Dane's Storm(78)

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dalila, I didn’t realize you were here. I can come back.”

She turned to leave, but I gave Dalila a small smile and a nod and called, “Actually, Luella, I was hoping to speak to you for minute.” Luella had come by a few times over the past week, but she’d only really ducked in and out, and always while other people were visiting, so I hadn’t had a moment alone with her, nor had she made any effort to speak to me privately or in front of Dane. He’d told me how and what he’d yelled at her when he first woke up. I think it shocked both of them.

Dalila smiled, patting my hand. “I need to get going anyway. Audra, see you tonight? Six thirty-ish.”

“Sounds great.”

She breezed out the door on a smile, stopping reluctantly to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. We hadn’t caught up fully, but she understood the gist of how Luella’s actions nearly cost our lives. I almost felt sorry for Luella. Many in the family, who had previously respected her, felt angry toward her now. I suspected it would take some time to heal that rift.

Luella stepped into the room and I nodded to the chair sitting next to my bed. She took a seat, her fingers moving over the hem of her short, silk jacket. Nerves raced along my spine, but this talk was one both necessary and overdue.

“You were in love with my grandfather,” I stated bluntly.

She lifted her head, her eyes filled with shock. “I . . .” She paused, a myriad of emotions flitting over her face before she took a deep breath, sitting back in the chair, and looking over my shoulder for a moment before meeting my eyes. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I found a letter in the attic right before I left for San Francisco.” I turned, reaching into my purse on the table next to the bed. I’d asked Jay to retrieve it for me a couple of days before. “He broke your heart.”

She regarded me for a weighted moment, her gaze flitting to the paper in my hand, and suddenly I saw that that frosty stare also held a well of hurt. She looked down to where her fingers continued to play with her hem, ceasing their movement when she realized what she was doing. “Yes. I met him on the street on my way to lunch with a friend. My hat flew off and he”—she smiled a sad smile, her eyes staring off behind me, into the past—“ran after it. He brought it back to me and we talked, he insisted on walking me to the restaurant. I fell in love. It only took four blocks.” She smiled again, though it wavered, and helplessly, my heart squeezed. “He was all wrong for me. A welder who barely made ends meet. My parents never would have approved. We met in secret after that, planned to run away together. I waited that day by the pond on my property, my suitcase in my hand, and he never showed up.”

She took a deep breath. “I waited for hours, thinking he must have been delayed . . . but, no, he never showed.” She sat up straighter, clasping her hands in her lap. “I thought . . . there must have been an accident . . . some explanation. I went to his job the next morning. He was outside the factory with some other men and he saw me”—she took a shaky breath—“and then he . . . turned away.” She was silent for a long moment, her gaze cast downward. Finally, she looked back at me, straightening her shoulders. “I was determined to put him out of my mind after that, to move on. I began dating the man my parents had been pushing me toward. We married that same year.” She gave a small shake of her head. “I did come to love him. Not with the same fiery passion of that first love, but I was very fond of Dane’s grandfather. He was a good man.” She tilted her head. “I suppose there’s never another love like that first one, is there?”

“No, I suppose not,” I said, my chest hollow as I pictured her waiting alone next to the pond, a suitcase full of clothes, a heart full of hope that slowly drained away as the sun moved across the sky.

“I heard that Wallace married a couple of years later. I told my husband I was sick and cried in my room all day. I convinced myself I hated him, vowed to hate him forever.”

“And then I showed up.”

She nodded. “Yes, then you showed up.”

“To do to Dane what my grandfather had done to you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I couldn’t bear the thought of looking at you at my dinner table, the product of his marriage to another woman, for the rest of my life.”

I tilted my head, trying to understand, trying to imagine the bitterness—the deep pain—that had festered for so many years, warping her heart so that she saw me as an adversary. “Is that why you’re trying to take my building? Because of what my grandfather did?”

She regarded me for a moment, before saying quietly, “I never tried to take your building. That was a ruse.”

I frowned in confusion. “A ruse? A ruse for what?”

Luella took another deep breath. “Last year, Dane came home to visit. I was certain he was going to ask for my diamond so he could propose to Winnie.”

I winced, biting my lip as I looked down, the thought of him marrying someone else still a tender bruise inside me.

She sighed. “But he looked so torn up when he arrived. There was no happiness in his expression, only . . . this look that reminded me . . .” She shook her head. “Anyway, he went out and when he returned, his face was so full of longing. That same longing he’d always had in his eyes when he looked at you. He said he’d changed his mind about marrying Winnie. I knew, I just knew he’d gone to see you. He didn’t deny it, told me he’d just caught a glimpse of you from across the street.” She paused and I remained silent as she organized her thoughts. “After that, I thought a lot about Wallace. I cried. I realized the part I may have played in the demise of Dane’s and your relationship, how very selfish and unfair I’d been.”