Hearts Divided (Cedar Cove #5.5)(67)

“Anytime. Including dawn. Wasn’t that what you and Gram had planned?”

“Only,” Clara said, “because Nick knows I’m an early riser when I don’t have my granddaughter to chat with through the night. We should be up by noon, though, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d say so,” Elizabeth replied. “I’d also say I’ve never slept past eight in my life, Gram, and neither have you. So if you’d like to come by earlier, Nick…”

“Noon’s good,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

The downpour was a suitable companion for Nick’s thoughts.

As he left the farmhouse, he headed away from Center Street, not toward it. He needed to walk for a while. Run for a while.

And think—for a while.

Clara and Charles hadn’t forgotten the boy who’d rescued their granddaughter. And Elizabeth’s vanishing act in pursuit of brightly lit apple trees was a cautionary tale remembered by every MacKenzie old enough to recall the terror of that evening.

All MacKenzies knew that a nameless youngster had carried their girl to safety. But Charles and Clara alone had been waiting for his return. They’d seemed to know he would return, and even when, since the kitchen Charles had designed for Clara was ready for Nick to build.

Nick had always known that the rescued girl would have no memory of her Yuletide misadventure. Much less of him.

Nick wouldn’t have recognized Elizabeth, either, if he hadn’t seen photographs of her in her grandparents’ home. Despite that, the Elizabeth who rushed into the Keeling Clinic on the evening of Charles’s stroke had been a surprise.

The camera had captured her elegant bones and wholesome allure. But it had failed to capture her. She didn’t have a freeze-frame sort of face. Or a freeze-frame sort of life. She was beauty in motion, as vibrant as the bright colors she chased. As bold as the emotions it wouldn’t occur to her to hide.

Until that evening at the clinic, Nick figured it was just a matter of time before he and Elizabeth were introduced. The well-bred heiress would offer a gracious hello, while the granddaughter-turned-prosecutor searched for proof that he meant no harm to the grandparents she loved.

He’d pass inspection, and that would be that. From her standpoint, anyway.

Nick had known, even before seeing her, that the protectiveness he felt toward Charles and Clara would extend to their only granddaughter.

It did, but with a twist.

Elizabeth needed his protection, all right. Protection from him.

The attraction he’d felt for her was immediate. And powerful.

But as powerful as the physical desire was, it paled in comparison to a longing that was entirely new. He wanted to be with her. Simply be. For better, for worse. In sickness and in health. Forsaking all others.

Forever.

Nick dealt with his longing in a way that was best for Elizabeth, most protective of her. He kept his distance, avoiding any and all opportunity for the two of them to even meet. And, on a sunny day in early May, Clara told him Elizabeth was engaged.

He ached at the revelation. And, at the same time, he felt relieved. Elizabeth had found the kind of man she should marry.

And now…

Now.

Nick could run all night in the storm. Until his every shattered bone screamed for mercy.

But Nicholas Lawton couldn’t outrun, could never outrun, his feelings for Elizabeth.

They were part of who he was.

The best part.

Five

Gram insisted that her rain-soaked granddaughter change into slumber-party attire before they convened in the kitchen for hot chocolate and a chat.

“I will if you will,” Elizabeth had said.

They’d gone to their separate bedrooms, the one where Clara and Charles had slept for more than sixty years—and where Charles had died in his sleep—and the guest room down the hall that had always been Elizabeth’s.

Her farm clothes were there, the wardrobe from the final teenage summer she’d spent at Sarah’s Orchard. The wardrobe had been baggy even then. She’d liked wearing loose clothing over her plumpish frame.

The plumpness had gone the way of carefree summers. The jeans and T-shirts would be baggier now.

When Gram, in robe and slippers, emerged from her bedroom, Elizabeth, similarly dressed, emerged from hers.

“He wasn’t what I expected,” Elizabeth said as they walked down the stairs.

Gram’s hand slid along the satin-smooth railing Nick had made. “You only dated him for four months before getting engaged.”

“I meant Nick.”

“Oh?”

“Not that my expectations mean very much. Witness Matthew.”

“Matthew’s history.”

“That’s definitive.”

“Well, isn’t he?”

Elizabeth’s mind’s eye viewed again the image she’d glimpsed through his bedroom window. “Yes. He is.”

“Good. Let’s talk about Nick. In what way wasn’t he what you expected?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought he wouldn’t be so…”

“Handsome?”

“Gram.”

“Gorgeous?”

“Gram.”

“What then?”

“Solemn.” Intense.

“Nick is solemn. He reminds me of Granddad in that way. In many ways, come to think of it.”