Matter Of Trust (14 page)

Jenny studied her refection in the mirror then wrinkled her nose. “You’re right.”

Still waiting for the salesgirl to return, Kayla perused a nearby aisle before another dress caught her eye. “Look at this one.”

Kayla ran her fingers across the satin material. The fitted bodice featured a U-shaped neckline and pearl accents. Roses and a trail of silver leaves ran down the skirt. If she was the one looking for a wedding dress, this one was close to perfect.

Except, of course, she wasn’t looking.

“You should try it on.”

Kayla’s brow puckered at her friend. “I’m not engaged.”

“You practically are.”

“This is your day.” Kayla studied the detail in the embroidered stitching across the bodice. It was completely different from the one she’d bought a year ago—but then she and Ty were completely different people today.

Jenny nudged Kayla with her elbow. “Try it on.”

“Would you like to try that one as well?” The saleslady appeared behind them.

“No, but my friend would.”

Before Kayla had a chance to argue, the two women steered her into the dressing room. Moments later she stood in front of the mirror, the bodice and slimming waistline fitting to perfection. Small pearls graced the sleeves as well as the bottom edges of the dress.

“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Kayla could hardly believe her own reflection. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and she looked like a princess who’d just stepped out of the pages of a fairytale book. It took little imagination for her to picture Ty as her knight in shining armor coming to rescue her.

“Now you just have to get Ty to pop the question,” Jenny said.

Reality smacked the air out of Kayla’s lungs. She wanted him to ask her, but life had turned into a complicated muddle of confusion between caring for her mother and running her mom’s business. Keeping up a relationship in the twenty-first century had nothing to do with castles and handsome knights. It had everything to do with honesty and trust.

“Our relationship isn’t as simple as yours and Greg’s.”

“No relationship is simple.” Jenny handed Kayla a gauzy veil with rhinestones and drop pearls surrounding the headpiece, then helped her slip it on.

It was a perfect fit for the dress. “If he does ask, will you be my bridesmaid?”

“You know I will.” Jenny reached around the layers of satin to give Kayla a hug. “He makes you happy. I can’t deny that.”

He’s guilty
.

No! Kayla stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried to ignore the words that had continued to repeat over and over in her mind. “You’re right. Ty does make me happy. Very happy.”

If that were true, though, why did it sound as if she were trying to convince herself?

Ty rang the doorbell to Kayla’s mother’s house, then took a step back on the wide porch. Six months ago he never would have considered coming to Rosa Marceilo to talk about her daughter. She would have kicked him out in an instant. Today he stood at her front door, ready to wave the white flag if necessary. No matter what her stance, he was determined to do things right this time. And despite the obstacles that still seemed to stand in their way he wasn’t prepared to put off their wedding any longer.

A home nurse opened the door then escorted him into the living room where Mrs. Marceilo sat in a recliner.

“Ty?” While her speech had improved tremendously with therapy, her left arm and leg still hung limp. “Kayla’s not here right now. She—she’s out with Jenny.”

“I know.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets. “I came to see you, actually. Do you have a minute?”

A crooked smile crossed her face. “I’m not going anywhere, and I … I can’t get up to kick you out if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The plump nurse stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “May I get the two of you some tea?”

Mrs. Marceilo nodded. “That would be nice, Hillary. Thank you.”

Ty sat across from Kayla’s mom on the faded blue couch, and it struck him how much Kayla had given up to move in with her mom. The country décor of the living room was a far cry from Kayla’s more traditional tastes. She loved her dark mahogany furniture bought from local auctions, brightly colored wall murals, and shelves filled with books and photos. Most of the pieces she’d collected now sat in storage.

He fiddled with the edges of the embroidered pillow beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“My speech is improving, but I forget what I want to say … half the time. Physical therapy’s a … nightmare, but they’ve tried to … convince me it’s the only way I’ll walk again.” She grasped her limp arm, then let it fall onto her lap.

“Kayla told me they expect a full recovery.”

“P–possibly. I suppose that depends on … on how hard I work.” Mrs. Marceilo repositioned the afghan on her legs. “You … don’t have to bore us both with a bunch of small t–talk, Ty. I’ve never hid the fact I … disliked you, and I’m b–betting you’ve felt the same way.”

Ty stared at the framed quilt hanging on the wall behind Mrs. Marceilo’s head and sent up a prayer for guidance. Apparently his regular visits to the hospital had done little to ease the strain of their relationship. Not that he’d expected to be received like the prodigal son, but something had to be done to ease the tension between them, for Kayla’s sake, if nothing else.

The woman brushed a wisp of auburn hair from her forehead. Despite Kayla’s heavy workload, he knew she managed to fix her mother’s hair every morning, help her dress, and put on her makeup. It was a gift that had helped to build back the woman’s confidence.

She pushed up her glasses and eyed him closely. “Even I have to admit … something’s changed about you.”

Her statement caught him off guard.

“Excuse me?” Ty leaned forward. He’d expected her to continue shooting barbs at him, not handing out hope for a truce.

“The Ty I knew wouldn’t have made … daily visits to see some old woman unless it … unless it somehow fit into his agenda to get … what he wanted.” Her expression softened slightly. “As hard as it is for me to admit … you’ve been there for my daughter.”

Hillary brought in a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of cookies. She held the smaller drink in front of Mrs. Marceilo. “Can you handle this? It’s hot.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you.” Mrs. Marceilo took the cup with her good hand and drew it to her lips.

Ty waited until the nurse had left the room before continuing. “I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I love your daughter, Mrs. Marceilo.”

“And for whatever reason … she says you make her happy.” Mrs. Marceilo set the tea down and reached for a chocolate chip cookie from the end table beside her. “These are my weakness.”

Ty smiled and took one for himself. “Your daughter makes me happy, too. That’s why I’m here.”

“I had a feeling this … this visit didn’t have anything to do with me.”

He cleared his throat, wondering if the momentary truce would last once he stated his real reason for coming. “I want to ask Kayla to marry me, and I would like your permission.”

A frown appeared on her face, deepened by the droop on her left side. “I don’t recall you taking the time to ask my—my permission the last time you asked her.”

Ty tried to ignore her disapproving gaze, wondering if she enjoyed making him squirm. Christ might have forgiven all his past mistakes, but that didn’t always take away the sting of guilt. Or the burden others placed on him. “There are a lot of things I regret in my past. I want to do it right this time.”

Mrs. Marceilo took another long sip of tea before saying anything. “Three months ago I—I would have thrown you out of the house at this point.”

He noted the slight gleam in her eye. There was no doubt about it. She was enjoying herself.

Ty relaxed a bit. Two could play the game as well as one. “And today?”

“Somehow you’ve managed to convince me … you care about my daughter. And not only … her, I might add, but her decrepit mother as well.”

“I beg to differ with that description.”

“Always the diplomat, aren’t you?” Mrs. Marceilo laughed, but a warning flashed in her eyes. “Don’t ever walk out on her, Ty Lawrence, because if you do, I–I’ll come after you. I won’t have my daughter set up like a … like a trophy on some mantel … then forgotten. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” While he intended to keep his promise, he also took her warning seriously.

“You’d better.” Her hand began to shake, and she set the cup down. “I have to admit … I don’t understand the changes.”

“Or believe them?”

“Not completely.”

Ty rubbed his jaw and prayed for an answer. “Christ, and the sacrifice He made, changed everything for me.”

“That is what Kayla keeps trying to tell me.” Mrs. Marceilo shook her head. “I used to believe … God cared about me. Then my husband left … me alone with a seven-year-old daughter and a trail of grief.”

“I spent a lot of time blaming God for man’s mistakes. Or more often than not, for my mistakes. He does care, Mrs. Marceilo. And so do I.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she remained silent.

Ty leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “I’m not one to make promises lightly, Mrs. Marceilo, but I do have one—no, two—that I want you to hear. I promise to take care of your daughter and always put her first. And I also promise to take care of you.”

Mrs. Marceilo blinked away the tears. “I never planned to like you … let alone allow you to marry my daughter.”

And for the first time in a long time, Mrs. Marceilo smiled at him.

Two hours later Ty sat across from Kayla at the small table in the back of the restaurant, wishing he’d chosen a more creative way to propose than over dinner. The soft music and candlelight were nice, but nice couldn’t compete with the first time he asked her to marry him. Sailing around Nantucket Island with caviar and a hired musician wasn’t easy to compete with.

Ty squeezed the lemon into his water, then took a sip. “I visited your mother today.”

“I really appreciate the effort you’ve made with her.” Her smile confirmed the fact that swallowing his pride and talking to her mother had been worth it.

“A box of chocolate truffles now and then goes a long way.”

“I’ll settle for prawns and shrimp tonight. The menu looks divine.”

A pony-tailed waitress approached their table. “Are you ready to order?”

Kayla told the waitress what she wanted, then scooted her chair back from the table. “I’m going to run to the restroom and wash my hands before they bring out the appetizers if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Ty felt for the small velvet box in his sport coat pocket as she walked away and thanked God for second chances.

Kayla pushed her way through the crowded bar, wondering why they couldn’t place the restrooms in a more convenient location for those in the restaurant. The lobby was filled with people waiting to be seated. Four years of waitressing in college made her sympathetic toward the employees who’d go home after closing with sore feet and aching backs. Not that she didn’t still get her fair share of aches and pains after being on her feet all night for a catered event, but it still had to be easier.

Past the bar was a narrow hallway. A woman wearing a black dress and high heels stopped in front of Kayla, blocking her way.