Always in Her Heart (5 page)

Well, given all the things they'd disagreed about, this was a fairly benign one. A good thing, too. They'd set off entirely too many explosions in each other over the past few days. She'd let Link past her emotional guard too often. She had to find a way of dealing with the situation without that.

Link looked down at the faded photos as he paged his way through the book that had belonged to Davis's parents. His dark hair, usually under such strict control, had become tousled, making him look younger. Absorbed in the album, he seemed relaxed,
as if the strain of his grief and his worry over the building project had temporarily been dismissed.

“There. Look at that.” Link, grinning, pointed to a photo of a diaper-clad baby proudly holding himself upright against a piano bench.

Annie recognized the bench—it still stood at the spinet in the living room. She bent to look closer and her hand brushed Link's, setting off a wave of warmth. She moved her fingers away carefully and tried to concentrate on the picture.

“Well, there's a little resemblance, I guess,” she conceded.

“A little? She's the image of her daddy.” Link leafed through the pages, apparently oblivious to that touch. “Let me find another one.”

“No fair.” She pulled the album toward her. “You're not letting me see all of them.”

He smiled, letting half of the heavy pages rest on her lap. “Go ahead, look. You'll see the same resemblance in every picture.”

“We'll see.” She turned pages. Davis with his parents, who'd been gone for five years now. They'd died within a year of each other—his father from cancer, his mother from heart failure, as if she hadn't wanted to go on without her husband.

Davis in a Scouts uniform…a football uniform. The story of his life was played out in the series of photos.

She touched one of Davis in a graduation gown.
“It looks as if his illness didn't keep him from participating in plenty of activities.”

“Pictures can be deceiving.” Link flattened his hand against the page, and his voice had gone flat, too. “He spent several weeks in a hospital during his senior year.”

She leaned back against the buttery-soft leather, watching his face. “You didn't know him then, did you?”

He shook his head. “We met in college, freshman year. Roommates by the luck of the draw. His mother told me about it later.” He flipped another page or two. “There. That's Christmas break our freshman year.”

Again, she recognized the setting—the living room of this house. Davis's mother, elegant and composed, stood in front of a Christmas tree, flanked by Davis and Link.

Link had been thinner then, as if he hadn't yet caught up with his height. He looked—she tried to find the right word. Happy, but somehow almost surprised at that happiness, as if thinking it didn't belong to him.

“You didn't go home to your family?” She ventured the question cautiously, remembering that he seldom spoke of his people.

“No.” The curt monosyllable closed the door on that subject. “Davis's parents invited me to Lakeview with him.” He touched the picture gently. “His par
ents made me so welcome. I'd never had a Christmas like that.”

She wanted to ask why he hadn't gone to his own home, what his other Christmases had been like, but his attitude had already warned her off the subject of his family.

“I never really got to know Davis's parents well. They seemed very nice.”

Nice.
The truth was, she'd always felt uneasy around them, always mindful of the fact that they hadn't wanted their son to marry Becca.

“They treated me like one of their own. I don't think I could ever repay their kindness.”

“You tried.” She regretted the words the instant they were out. Why did she want to spoil the momentary harmony between them by bringing up something on which they'd never agree?

Link's jaw tightened, a tiny muscle twitching. “I made a promise. I told you that.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” Instinctively, without thinking, she put her hand over his. “Really. I shouldn't have said that. I realize you were doing what you thought you had to.”

And whatever had begun between us didn't measure in the balance with what you thought you owed them.

She couldn't say that, of course. But she couldn't help thinking that perhaps Davis's parents had used Link's sense of obligation to put a burden on him that wasn't rightfully his.

Link's fingers closed around hers. “They were kind to me, and Davis was my best friend. I'd have done anything for him then.” His fingers tightened. “And I'd do anything now for that little girl, because she's Davis's child. You know you can trust me on that, don't you?”

Trust.
He'd put his finger right on the root of her uncertainty.

“I know you'll do all you can for Marcy because of Davis,” she said carefully. He'd let her down before, but this time they were on the same side, weren't they? “I'd like to think you can love her for herself, too.”

He stared down at their clasped hands, and his shuttered face hid his thoughts. “I love her,” he said. “The reason doesn't matter. I'll keep her inheritance safe, no matter what the cost.”

“I believe you.” It was almost like a vow.

He looked at her suddenly, and his face was very close to hers. Their hands, clasped atop Davis's picture, seemed to bind them together.

“We're going to do this, Annie. Don't doubt it.”

His voice was very soft, but she had the sense she'd be able to hear him even if he just thought the words.

“I know.”

He was so close that the slightest movement would bring his face against hers. For a second she thought he'd move, thought he'd lay his cheek close against hers and fold his arms around her. She didn't—she couldn't—

Then he was drawing back, closing the album, putting cool space between them. His head was turned away, and she couldn't see his expression.

Just as well. She leaned back, trying to still her chaotic thoughts. Link had shown her depths within himself, had touched her at a level she didn't want to expose. What had happened to the guard she kept around her emotions? What would happen if she let him get too close again?

L
eaving Marcy in the church nursery on Sunday morning had been harder than Annie had expected. She'd felt as if she were leaving part of herself behind, and the fact that Marcy had happily toddled over to the toy box hadn't really helped. She still hadn't wanted to leave her.

Overprotective? Probably.

Annie sat erect in the pew next to Link. She tried to concentrate on the Psalm reading, tried not to feel as if every person in the sanctuary watched them, but her effort was useless. The back of her neck prickled with the effect of those stares.

Naturally people were curious. Lakeview was a small town, where everyone knew everyone else. When two prominent citizens died and a custody battle started over their young child, people would won
der, especially when they heard about her sudden marriage to Link.

Frank and Julia were members here, although Becca had said they seldom attended. Still, that might be another reason why the Lesters would garner support.

She glanced at Link, sitting quietly next to her in the heavy walnut pew where Davis's family had sat for generations. Everything about the church—the stone exterior in the same style and material as the courthouse, the massive pews and pulpit, the soaring Gothic arches—proclaimed that this church had served the people of God in this place for a hundred years and would do so for a hundred more. Even the stained-glass windows with their memorial plaques for congregants long dead announced stability and tradition, reminding her that she didn't belong in Lakeview.

If Link felt out of place or disliked the stares of the congregation, it didn't show. He looked up at the rose window above the pulpit, apparently listening intently as the choir began the anthem. He seemed as distant from her now as he'd been since the night they'd looked at the photo albums together, the night she'd thought he was going to kiss her.

Since that night he'd put in long hours at the site and the office, then come home and closeted himself in Davis's small study. Had he been avoiding her or just stressed with work? She wasn't sure. The trouble
was that avoiding her meant that he avoided Marcy, too.

She gave him another sidelong glance. What lay hidden by that square, determined jaw and firm mouth? Link had revealed something of himself when they'd looked at those pictures of Davis's family. Maybe he'd been regretting that ever since. He wasn't a person to give away his feelings, any more than she was.

The choir finished on a chord that vibrated to the arched ceiling, and sat in a rustle of robes. Garth stepped to the pulpit, grasping its sides the way he had the day he'd spoken at Davis and Becca's funeral.

Next to her, she saw Link's hands clasp each other until the knuckles whitened. She glanced at her own and saw that they looked exactly the same. The common grief she and Link shared had created an intimacy between them that she didn't know quite how to handle.

Garth read the second scripture passage—the story of Samuel's anointing of the boy David to be king of Israel. God had passed over the older, taller, stronger sons of Jesse until Samuel reached the boy.

Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.

At this moment, God could see into Link's heart far better than she could. He understood the grief they shared, saw the feelings that drove Link.

Father, you know how worried I am about this sit
uation. I keep feeling my way, afraid each step will be a mistake. Please, guide me.

The words Link had spoken floated up to the surface of her mind.
I love Marcy for Davis's sake. I'll protect her inheritance no matter what.

That was what troubled her. She suddenly saw it as clearly as if God had printed it out in large letters for her to read. Link was focused on preserving Marcy's inheritance, rather than on loving Marcy. That was why she couldn't quite bring herself to trust him.

She looked up at Garth, realizing she'd been so intent that she'd missed part of his sermon. But maybe God had opened her mind to what she really needed to hear.

By the time the final
Amen
was said, Annie knew what she had to do. She had to help Link love Marcy for herself alone. If he did, she could stop fearing that he'd do the wrong thing out of his zealous determination to save the company for the child at all costs.

The only question was, how could she bring that about?

She followed Link out of the pew. Nora Evers, fluttering in a black-and-white dress that matched her black-and-white hat, caught her arm as she moved into the aisle.

“Don't forget about the Bible study tonight.” Nora pressed her hand. “I'll stop for you at about quarter of seven.”

Nora had invited her to the study group Garth led
on Sunday evenings. She hadn't actually said she'd go, but Nora seemed to assume it. She glanced at Link. If she went, he'd have to stay with Marcy. He wouldn't have any choice about getting to know her better.

“I'll be ready.” She smiled at the older woman. “I'm sure Link won't mind.”

Link eyed her as Nora moved off. “What is it Link won't mind?”

“Watching Marcy tonight while I attend Garth's Bible study class.”

He frowned. “I have a lot of work to do. Can't you get someone else?”

“Who? Nora's the only one I'd feel comfortable leaving her with, and Nora's going to the study.”

Link glanced around, as if making sure no one in the throng moving out the aisle was paying attention to their conversation. “Look, I've got to leave work early tomorrow as it is for the social worker's visit.”

“I'm sure the social worker will be impressed when she learns you're comfortable enough with Marcy to take care of her alone.”

His eyes narrowed, as if he prepared another argument. Before he could speak, a small figure hurtled into his legs and bounced back.

“Stop that, Jeremy.” A slight woman who didn't look old enough to be the child's mother grabbed him.

The woman straightened, pushing a strand of auburn hair away from her face, and Annie recognized
her. One of Becca's close friends, but which one? Names rattled through her mind.

“Jenna Elliot,” the woman said quickly. “I'm sure you don't remember me—”

“Of course I do. You brought dinner over the night I arrived.” The wheels had begun to turn now. Becca and Jenna had started a play group together for their toddlers.

Jenna nodded, ignoring the way the four-year-old tugged at her hand. “I've got to pick up the baby from the nursery, but I just wanted to remind you of play group at my house this week.”

“Well, I—”

“I'll call you.” Jenna let the little boy pull her down the aisle. “See you Wednesday.”

She worried at it as Link piloted her to the side door that led into the church's education wing. She ought to be happy to participate in the play group. She wasn't.

Link stopped next to a bulletin board decorated with Noah, the ark and a variety of colorful animals that had obviously been created by small hands. The corridor was empty, although voices echoed from the nursery. He looked down at her, a question in his dark eyes.

“Why don't you want to attend the play group?”

Could he read her mind? “What makes you think I don't want to?”

Link's straight brows lifted. “Do you?”

She concentrated on a zebra whose stripes were,
for some reason, red and green. “I guess I should go. It would be good for Marcy.”

“But you don't want to. Why?” He propped his shoulder against the bulletin board, plainly prepared to stay there all day until she answered.

“It makes me uncomfortable.” The words came out reluctantly. “It feels like I'm trying to take Becca's place.” Tears suddenly stung her eyes.

Link gripped her hand in quick, wordless sympathy. “You are taking her place, Annie. But it's not as if you chose this.”

She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. “I just—” How could she explain something she didn't understand herself?

“They were Becca's closest friends. They'll want to be your friends, too.”

That had a familiar echo. Becca had made friends so easily. People couldn't help responding to her warmth and joy. She'd always moved into friendship more cautiously, feeling more comfortable being the onlooker.

“Tell you what.” Link's grasp tightened, compelling her attention.

She looked up, to find him half smiling. “What?”

“I'll put my doubts aside and take care of Marcy tonight. You put yours aside and go to play group on Wednesday. Deal?”

Apparently God wasn't the only one who could see into her heart.

“All right,” she said reluctantly. “It's a deal.”

 

How had he gotten himself into this? Link tried to keep Marcy from wiggling off the changing table while he put her into her pajamas.

That process was a lot easier said than done. He'd get one foot in, and while he was putting the other one in, the first one would pop out.

“Come on, honey, give me a break!”

For some reason, Marcy seemed to find that funny. She giggled, grabbing at his face, and he quickly pulled the pajamas up.

“Okay, we're going to get this done.” He'd noticed that Annie always talked to the child while she was doing something. Maybe that was the solution.

Marcy looked up at him while he snapped the pajamas, her blue eyes wide and round. “Nan?”

“Nan had to go out for a while.” Had she? Or had that been an excuse to get him involved with the baby? “She'll be back in a little bit. Link will put you to bed.”

Marcy looked doubtful. Well, no more doubtful than he felt.

He'd jumped into baby-sitting impulsively, driven partly by his sense of obligation and partly by his desire to see Annie do something he thought would improve their chances with the social worker.

It hadn't taken much thought to decide Annie ought to belong to the play group. All he'd had to do was question whether his mother ever would have done such a thing.

Of course not. So the answer was that a good mother would do exactly the opposite of what his had done.

He picked Marcy up, and the child settled comfortably in his arms. Annie's hesitation had hinted at a shyness behind her cool composure. He hadn't guessed at that. Still, she'd be fine. Jenna and the other women had been Becca's friends. They'd make her feel welcome for Becca's sake.

“Okay, sweetie, time for bed.” He swung the baby over the crib railing as he'd done once before. She clung to him, letting out a cry that nearly pierced his eardrums.

“Hey, what's wrong? You always go right down for Link and Nan, remember?”

Apparently not. Marcy wrapped small arms around his neck and held on tight.

He patted her back. “Come on, sweetie. Link has work to do. Be a good girl and go to bed. I'll sing you a song.”

That didn't work. Neither did three stories in a row or four more lullabies.

He tried plopping her in the crib and making a hasty retreat. In the hallway, he leaned against the wall. He discovered that his tolerance for heart-rending cries was only about a minute and a half.

He pushed open the door and switched on the light. “Okay. I guess we're just not ready to go to bed yet.”

He gave a fleeting thought to the work he'd expected to get through tonight—the record-keeping
he'd taken for granted when Davis was doing it. Well, Annie shouldn't be too late. He hoped.

An hour later he and Marcy were still on the family room floor. He'd build a tower with blocks, she'd knock it over. Simple way of keeping her entertained, except that she was so tired she lay on the rug, reaching out with one chubby hand to knock the tower down.

He heard Annie's key in the lock with a mix of relief and annoyance.

“Why on earth is she still up?” Annie put her Bible and a notebook on the side table and slid her jacket off. She knelt beside Marcy. “What are you doing, sweetpea?”

“Mostly she's been crying every time I try to put her in bed.”

Annie pulled the baby onto her lap. Marcy snuggled against Annie's soft yellow sweater. He shouldn't be noticing that the color brought out unexpected gold highlights in Annie's brown eyes. She dropped a kiss on the baby's curls, then looked at him, brows lifting.

“Did you try singing to her?”

“Every lullaby I know. And I read her favorite stories. Nothing doing.”

He hated the defensive note in his voice. Why should he be defensive? This wasn't part of their deal. He was supposed to take care of the company, not the baby.

Annie stroked Marcy's back. The baby's eyes closed. “Did you try patting her?”

“I tried everything. She was fine until I put her in the crib, and then she'd scream as if I were deserting her.”

Deserting her.
His father had taken off as soon as he'd learned Link's mother was pregnant. If you needed a role model in order to be a decent father, he was out of luck.

“Well, let's give it another try.” Annie started to rise, holding the baby, and he caught her elbow to help her up. The yellow sweater was as soft as it looked, and her hair swung against his arm like dark silk.

Okay, he definitely shouldn't be thinking things like that about Annie. He shouldn't be thinking about Annie at all. This was a business partnership. He took care of the construction company, and she took care of the baby. They would be safer if they didn't mix the two.

He let her go, and she took a step away, then looked at him questioningly.

“Aren't you coming up with us?”

“You'll do better without me. I've got work to do. I have a company to run, remember?”

Annie's mouth seemed to tighten, as if he'd said the wrong thing.

“Just don't forget that we have a meeting with the social worker tomorrow.” She turned toward the stairs.