Claiming the Single Mom's Heart (19 page)

“Care to talk about it?”

“Not really.” But he might need Grandma Jo's help to piece together irrefutable documentation that Walter Royce had never owned so much as the foundation his cabin had been built on. Reluctantly, he moved to shut the door to the hallway, then sat down at his desk once again. “Your grandson's legendary ability to spot a woman taking advantage of him took another hit.”

Concern darkened Grandma Jo's eyes, but she didn't say anything, so he continued.

“It's a long story, but almost unbelievably, Sunshine is Walter and Flora Royce's great-great-granddaughter. You know who I'm talking about, don't you?”

“Of course I do. How extraordinary.”

“She came here to prove a story she'd heard from her grandmother—that Hunters cheated Royces out of the property that's now Hunter's Hideaway. She came here not only to prove it, but to cash in on it. And some of the information she gathered to help her she got straight from me. She played me, Grandma, just like Jasmine did.”

“I'm sorry to hear this, Grady.”

“No more sorry than I am.”

“You were coming to care for her, weren't you?”

“Oh, yeah. And her daughter.” The hopes and dreams he'd harbored for a too-short time filled his mind. “I can't believe this happened again. What is it about me that tells women I'm a sitting duck to be taken advantage of?”

“The problem isn't you, Grady. It's the women.”

“I'd like to believe that, but evidence to the contrary is mounting.”

“Sunshine confessed to you, then, that she intends to press the family for money if she can prove this family story?”

“She admitted that's why she moved here in the first place. Of course, she now denies that she'd have gone through with it.”

“Do you think she's telling the truth? That perhaps meeting you—even falling in love with you—could have changed her plans?”

“You have no idea how much I'd like to believe that, but it's a little hard to swallow, don't you think?”

“Maybe not. You're a fine young man, Grady. One most women would find it difficult
not
to fall in love with.”

Yeah, right.

“She admitted her original plans in coming here. That's a point in her favor.”

“After I almost dragged it out of her.”

“I imagine it wasn't something easy to admit. We all make mistakes, wrong decisions, but we don't always have to confess them to someone we want to think highly of us.”

“You sound as if you believe her.”

Grandma rose from her chair to look down at him. “I don't know whether to believe her or not. I just don't want you making a decision based on pride and misunderstanding.”

But the decision had already been made.

And after he'd pushed Sunshine away that night, reeling from the blows both she and Jasmine had dealt him, he didn't deserve another chance even if he wanted one.

Chapter Nineteen

“A
re you saying what I think you're saying, Grady?” A scowling Uncle Doug, standing among those crowded into Grandma Jo's living room after lunch on Sunday, sounded none too pleased. Undoubtedly he wouldn't be the only one who'd resent Grady's decision once word got out.

So be it.

“I think I've made myself clear,” Grady concluded as he looked around the room where he'd gathered his extended family and a few of Mom's closest supporters. “I appreciate your confidence in me and that you believe I'd serve our community well if voted in during a special election. I understand, too, the honor it's been for our family to have had a long, unbroken tradition in Hunter Ridge leadership.”

Uncle Doug folded his arms. “You understand that honor, yet you're letting us down.”

He didn't want to argue with his uncle. He'd prayerfully made his decision, and nothing would dissuade him. “You can view it that way if you choose to. But I don't think anyone in this room will argue that in the past I've been willing to make sacrifices I've believed to be in the best interests of a family I love. This time, however, I'm being true to myself—and to the God I answer to.”

Uncle Doug snorted, eyeing the room to look for those who might share his sentiments. “You're following your heart and sticking this town with the likes of Irvin Baydlin or Sunshine Carston?”

“As always—” Grady refused to sound defensive, knowing what he was about to say wouldn't set well with some “—our family and friends will make their own decisions. But I truly believe that Sunshine Carston will serve this community with fairness and integrity. I encourage you to vote for her. I will be.”

As the old saying went, you could hear a pin drop.

With a meaningful glance at Grady's mother—looking fragile this morning, but nevertheless as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders—Dad rose from where he'd been seated next to her on the sofa. He approached Grady and thrust out his hand.

“Thank you, son. You've made what your mother and I also wish to share that much easier.”

What was he talking about?

Dad looked at Grady's mother with love in his eyes, then at those gathered around them. “I'm here to officially announce that Elaine will be resigning from the town council Monday morning—and withdrawing from the election, as well.”

Several in the room gasped.

“See what you've done?” Uncle Doug took a step forward, angry eyes fixed on Grady.

“Now, Doug.” Dad held up a halting hand to his younger brother. “Elaine and I made this decision last night, before Grady had come to any conclusions of his own. You can't hold him at fault. Blame me and Elaine if you want to blame someone. We decided if God wants her whole and healthy, we're going to do all in our power to keep her that way. And the town council just doesn't fit in the picture.”

“I can't believe this.” Uncle Doug turned incredulous eyes to Grandma Jo. “Mother? What do you have to say about this? You're just going to let Dave and Grady make this ill-advised decision for all of us?”

Everyone turned to a grim Grandma Jo rising to her feet, and Grady once again admired the regal, almost aristocratic bearing of his grandmother.

“I do have something to say, Doug.”

Relief momentarily passed through Uncle Doug's eyes before he shot Grady an I-told-you-so look.

Grandma Jo gave Grady's mother a tender smile, then fixed her gaze once again on her second son. “What I want, Doug, is to keep Elaine with us for as long as God grants us that privilege. If that means the Hunters relinquish the town council seat, then so be it.”

“Now, Mother—”

She turned abruptly from Uncle Doug's appeal to look at Grady, her steady gaze filled with love. “Thank you for your courage, Grady. Courage to stand up for what you believe in despite opposition from those you love and admire most. You've not allowed yourself to be pushed down a road where God doesn't want you to go. I love you and I'm proud of you.”

Her gaze continued to hold his as he returned her smile.

“Thank you, Grandma. I love you, too.”

* * *

She'd won.

Still stunned at the news, Sunshine's smile remained frozen following her acceptance speech as supporters cheered and high-fived each other, hugged her and each other. The atmosphere in the restaurant's private room where her campaign team had awaited the election's outcome was euphoric, but standing in the middle of the celebrating crowd, it seemed nothing but surreal. And meaningless. She'd won by default, Elaine Hunter having abruptly withdrawn from the race on Monday morning.

“We did it!” Benton Mason's wife, Lizzie, gave her a hug. “Maybe things will start looking up for the artists in this town.”

“I have no doubt,” a smiling Benton chimed in, his even white teeth flashing in contrast to his dark beard, “that by next summer an art-in-the-park event will become a reality.”

“Hear! Hear!” others around them shouted.

Numb, Sunshine cringed inwardly. She hoped that would be the case. But there were no guarantees. She'd be one voice among five others and Mayor Silas. Half a dozen who might not be pleased to have her in their midst for the next four years. Would people expect more of her than she could deliver? Be disappointed when she might not make a significant difference?

And what about the Hunters? Had the family gotten word of the election results? Were they disappointed that Irvin Baydlin had been beat out by a newcomer?

“Sunshine?”

She stiffened at the familiar voice behind her, then fixing a smile on her face she turned to Gideon Edlow who somewhat reluctantly thrust out his hand.

“I guess congratulations are in order.”

“For all of us, Gideon. While I can't make guarantees as to what the next four years will bring, I give you my word that I'll represent the artists and other community members to the best of my ability.”

He squinted one eye. “No hard feelings?”

The likelihood that he was done with challenging her and that she'd ever be able to trust him were slim, but bearing a grudge would serve no good purpose. “None.”

To her relief, he was apparently satisfied, for he stepped aside to allow other well-wishers in to offer their congratulations.

The remainder of the evening sped by with the mayor and other council members stopping in to offer good wishes and welcome her to the team. Even Irvin came by to concede defeat with surprising graciousness, and Tori allowed Tessa to make a late-night phone call to her mother. Elaine Hunter didn't put in an appearance, but she did make a congratulatory call and explained that it had been a rough day health-wise, which was why she wasn't there in person.

There had been no mention of her son.

It was after midnight before Sunshine, restless and tense, could slip away from the noisy, crowded, too-warm room. In the quiet of the restroom she stared into the mirror at her reflection—into the face of an expressionless stranger. Where was the triumphant, glowing countenance of someone who'd just been elected?

Well, I won, Lord. Now what?

Although Elaine had pulled out at the last minute, her own win hadn't been
entirely
by default. A surprisingly healthy number of votes cast in her favor had by far trumped Irvin's, so at least that meant others outside the artists' community had backed her. Supported her. Clearly, a number of Elaine's supporters had switched loyalties when she'd bowed out, as well.

But although Sunshine hadn't expected to win, the victory felt hollow without Grady at her side. She clearly recognized now that searching for the truth of her grandmother's tale and running for office hadn't been about money or winning. It was about a need to belong. To have roots.

But it wasn't to Hunter Ridge that her soul truly longed to be connected. It was to her Lord.
I am the vine, you are the branches...for apart from Me you can do nothing.

Reluctantly, she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the chatter and laughter of those still celebrating coming from the main room. Maybe if she went outside, got a breath of fresh air, the tension that gripped her would ease?

Pushing open a glass door, she exited onto the shadowed porch, grateful for the stillness of this postmidnight hour. It was chilly, but the wind wasn't blowing, and her wool skirt and jacket provided an element of protection.

She moved to the edge of the porch to gaze up at the starry night. At this high elevation, the pinpoints of light glittered more sharply than in lower regions, a breathtaking sweep across the dark expanse above. A reminder of God the Creator, who was in control. A God who still had plans for her—good plans—even though that seemed far from her reality now.

Hey, girl
, she chided herself as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them,
you won a seat on the Hunter Ridge Town Council.

That had to be a God thing, didn't it?

But, ungratefully, it wasn't enough. If only she could go back in time and rearrange her life. Purify her motive for coming to Hunter Ridge and abandon the selfish pursuit to unearth the truth about the Hunters and her great-great-grandparents before she'd even gotten started.

Stop herself from hurting the man she loved.

“Sunshine?”

Startled, she spun toward Grady as he stepped up on the far side of the shadowed porch.

“I was hoping to see you. To offer my congratulations.” His words came hesitantly. “But I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome.”

“You'll always be welcomed, Grady.” Always. But how stupid to have said that. As if expecting him to casually brush off the deep wound she'd inflicted. “I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. I understand why it's difficult for you to believe it, but I never intended—”

He held up his hand to halt her. “I know that now.”

A spark of hope flared as he moved closer, but she tamped it down. It would be too much to bear if he'd solely come here tonight to seek closure. To say a final goodbye.

He looked down the concrete porch and scuffed the toe of his boot against it. “We've both grown up with different versions of the same story, haven't we?”

“We have.”

“You wouldn't think that something that happened a hundred years ago would trickle down through the generations to impact us now. Influence who we are. But I know for my part, I grew up with tales of how my ancestor generously supported a friend facing hard times and was taken advantage of. Then when Uncle Doug's wife divorced him and did him and the town dirty when I was a little boy, well, that was another layer of distrust and fear of betrayal that carved itself into who I am.”

“And then Jasmine.”

“Yes, and then Jasmine.” He looked skyward for a long moment, then back at her. “But you've been impacted by a story, as well. An often-told story shared with you by someone you loved and trusted—your grandmother. A tale that, as with me, seeped inside and planted itself in how you perceive the world. As betraying. Untrustworthy. And your ex-husband's abandonment reinforced that.”

“It did.”

“I guess what I'm trying to say here is that we both blindly walked into a relationship carrying a ton of personal baggage. Heavy baggage we weren't fully aware we were carrying until now. Some of it with century-old roots.”

“Kind of crazy.”

“Major crazy.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I'm confident, Sunshine, that the evidence you've discovered can easily be explained. That it can be proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that your great-great-grandfather never owned Hunter's Hideaway. But I don't expect you to take my word on that. I'm willing to research it further with you and, if the Hunters did your family an injustice, we'll make it right.”

“I don't want anything from the Hunters.” Except Grady's trust, his heart. “Please believe that.”

“I believe you'd come to a decision that you wouldn't press my family for financial gain. I've thought long and hard about what you said or, rather, what you were trying to say when I refused to listen. When I was being stubbornly sure you were no better than Jasmine. Than Aunt Char. Than your ancestors.”

Despite his assurance that he believed her, she cringed inwardly at the string of past betrayals carving a path into his future. Was it any wonder he'd reacted the way he had?

“But God—and Grandma Jo—opened my eyes, Sunshine.”

“Your grandmother?”

“That's a story to be told later.” He reached for her hand, his gaze intense. “I had to ask myself if something that happened or didn't happen a hundred years ago to people long dead even matters. To us, I mean. Here. Now.”

“Only if we choose to let it.”

He swallowed, his hands tightening gently on hers. “Will you forgive me, Sunshine? For not believing in you? I can see now that my betrayal of you was every bit as harsh as the one I'd imagined inflicted on myself.”

“Of course, Grady. But I owe you an apology as well, so please hear me out. My original motives for coming here were wrong. Very wrong. I was intent on being compensated for an injustice done to my family—an injustice I'd clung to so tightly, but now realize was a fabrication.”

The lines of tension in his face eased.

“I now also realize,” she hurried on, “that coming here and then running for a town council seat wasn't all about money or fighting for justice. Those things masked a search for the fulfillment of another deeper need. A need for roots, a sense of belonging. But this past week I've come to better understand that true belonging can only be found by not withholding pieces of my heart from God.”

The stillness of the night pressing in around them, they stood facing each other in the dim light. Despite words of reconciliation and a desire to put the past in the past, he'd said nothing of wanting to see her again. To start over. Was it too late for that?