The Way Home (13 page)

“Hold on, Kate,” Amy interrupted with a laugh. “Trust me, that isn't his style. We'd be staying with his grandmother.”

The relief in Kate's voice was obvious. “Well, thank goodness! You're going, aren't you?”

“I don't know.”

Again there was a moment of silence. “It wouldn't be because you're afraid, would it?” Kate finally asked, her voice gentle.

Amy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know if I can explain exactly,” Kate said hesitantly. “It's just that…well, all these years I've watched you single-mindedly go after what you want. I've admired you in many ways, even envied your drive and commitment at times, as well as your ability to stay focused. You just didn't let anything into your life that could deter you from capturing the golden ring. But I honestly can't say that you've ever seemed really happy or…or content. And I think maybe you've missed some good things along the way, all in the name of your career. I'm not saying career isn't important, Amy. You've worked hard and done well, and I know that means a lot to you. But it's not ev
erything. And maybe it's not even the most important thing.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I guess what it comes down to is this. I don't want you to pass up a chance at love just because the guy came along at the wrong time or is a little different than what you expected.”

Kate's comments mirrored her own recent thoughts so closely that for a moment Amy was too surprised to speak.

“Amy?” Kate's concerned voice came over the wire. “Listen, I didn't mean to offend you, but…”

“It's okay,” Amy assured her sister. “You just hit a little too close to home. I guess maybe I am afraid. After investing so much of my life and myself in my career—pretty much to the exclusion of all else—it's pretty scary to think about changing course. Especially when I've been so sure about my destination.”

“I know it's hard for you. You've always been the type to hang on tenaciously once you set your mind to something. Remember the violin?”

Amy chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You drove us nuts at home. Even though the teacher kept telling you that it just wasn't your instrument, you were determined to be the next Itzhak Perlman. We all deserve a special place in heaven for putting up with that screeching for…how long? Four years? Five?”

“It was only two.”

“Well, it seemed at least twice that long.”

Amy laughed. “I must admit, you guys were pretty good sports. And you're right. I have a hard time
letting go, once I make my mind up to go after something.”

“Well, let me tell you, we all got down on our knees and thanked the Lord when you took up quilting. It was the answer to our prayers. And you would never have discovered you had a talent for it if you hadn't gone to that meeting for Mom. In fact, until then, whenever she brought it up you just laughed it off. You said it wouldn't be a good fit. But you found out differently once you tried it. I guess all I'm saying about Cal is that maybe it's the same kind of thing. It might not look like a good fit on the surface, but you might be surprised if you give it a chance.”

“You know something, Kate?”

“What?”

“You're one sharp lady.”

Kate chuckled. “I wish you'd thought that when we were teenagers. It would have prevented quite a few squabbles. So you don't mind the advice, then?”

“No.”

“Then can I give you one more piece?”

“Sure.”

“I know you haven't kept up with your faith these past few years. But it wouldn't hurt to ask for a little guidance. The Lord always comes through, you know.”

“Frankly, Kate, I don't think He even remembers my name.”

“Of course He does. That's the nice thing about the Lord, Amy. Even if we ignore Him, He never ignores us. But enough preaching. You'll let me know what you decide about the trip, won't you?”

“Absolutely. Just as soon as I know myself.”

Amy sat there for a long time after she rang off, weighing the pros and cons of accepting Cal's invitation. When the minutes ticked by and she didn't seem to be any closer to a resolution, she decided to take Kate's advice and try asking for guidance from a higher power.

It had been a long time since she'd prayed, and at first she felt awkward. But as she closed her eyes and struggled to express her chaotic thoughts in the silence of her heart, the words suddenly came.

Dear Lord, I know You haven't heard from me in a while. It's not that I stopped believing. I've just been too busy to take time for prayer. Or, I guess more truthfully, I just haven't made time for prayer, the way Cal has. Anyway, he's the reason I'm coming to You now. I like him, Lord. A lot. But I'm afraid if I let him get too close, it could change my life forever. On the other hand, Kate could be right. I might be letting something really good slip away if I don't pursue this. I'm confused, Lord. I need Your help. I know I've been a wayward soul for too long, but I'm going to try to find my way back to You. And in the meantime, please guide me to make the right decision about this.

When Amy opened her eyes, she had no magic solution to her dilemma. But somehow her burden seemed lighter. And she had a feeling that by the time Cal arrived that evening, she'd be ready to give him an answer.

 

As the first blue-hued mountains appeared on the distant horizon, Cal drew in a slow, deep, cleansing
breath. The familiar and comforting sense of homecoming swept over him, and he turned to glance at Amy, anxious to share this moment with her. But she was still sleeping soundly.

His gaze softened as it lingered on her face, and only with great effort did he turn his attention back to the road. He was glad she was sleeping. She'd looked exhausted when he'd arrived to pick her up this morning. Though her wound seemed to be healing nicely, the skin around the abrasion was badly bruised from the trauma. Apparently she'd inadvertently turned on her back a few times during the night, and the pressure on her tender skin had rudely—and painfully—jolted her awake. Though she'd tried to keep up a breezy conversation during the first hour or so of the trip, the gentle lulling motion of the car had eventually made her drowsy, and she'd drifted off. That had been almost three hours ago.

Cal didn't mind. He was just glad she'd accepted his invitation. It had seemed touch-and-go for a while, and he'd been prepared to press her if she'd turned him down when he'd arrived with the pizza. But surprisingly she had said yes with no further discussion. She'd mentioned that she'd talked with her sister that day, and if Kate was responsible for Amy's decision, then he owed her. Big time. Because the more he'd thought about it, the more confident he was that his middle-of-the-night inspiration to invite her home was sound. Though they'd never discussed—or even acknowledged—the attraction between them, it was as real as the mountains looming ahead. And it was time
to face it. Here, away from the distractions of their everyday lives, perhaps they could both come to grips with their feelings.

Amy made a soft sound, and he glanced toward her just as her eyelids flickered open.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” he teased with a smile.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes in an endearing little-girl gesture that tugged at his heart.

“Hi.” She peered at her watch, and then quickly straightened up, her eyes widening. “Have I been asleep for three hours?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, Cal, I'm sorry! I meant to keep you company during the drive.”

“You needed the rest. And I've made this drive alone more times than I can count. It's only five or six hours. It gives me a chance to unwind and let the cares of the city slip away.”

Amy gazed out the window and scanned the landscape appreciatively. “It's beautiful here.”

“We're just in the foothills. It's even better closer to the park. We should be at Gram's cabin in less than an hour.”

They chatted companionably during the remainder of the trip, and in what seemed only a few minutes, Cal turned into a gravel driveway that led toward a cabin.

“This is home,” he said quietly, stopping the car for a moment to gaze at the scene.

The cabin was fairly rustic, separated from the road by a large meadow. Colorful flowers spilled from planters along the porch railing, and a grove of pine
trees seemed to come right up to the back door. In an adjacent pasture a horse grazed contentedly against a serene backdrop of misty blue-hued mountains.

The peace of the scene stole over Amy, and for the first time in a long while she felt the always-present tension in her shoulders begin to ease. There was a calmness to this place that made the location seem far away from the hustle and bustle of her world—not only in miles, but in spirit. The quiet—broken only by an occasional birdcall—and the beauty of nature were like a balm for the soul, and Amy drew in a long, slow breath.

When she turned to Cal, he was watching her with an enigmatic expression on his face. She sensed that he was waiting for her to comment, and she struggled to find the words to capture her first reaction.

“I think I already understand why you love this place so much,” she said softly. “It's like a world apart. There's so much beauty and calmness here, and a kind of…I don't know how to describe it exactly. It's like a special tranquillity that you just breathe in.”

His smile warmed her to her toes. “I hoped you might see it that way.” Their gazes held for a long moment, and then he turned and nodded toward the porch. “I think the welcoming committee is waiting.”

Amy followed his gaze. Two people stood by the railing, waving.

“Gram and my dad,” Cal explained as he put the car in gear.

As they closed the distance to the cabin, Amy studied the two people who were so special to Cal. Inter
estingly enough, neither was exactly what she'd expected. Though there was a resemblance between Cal and his father, the older man was much shorter than his son, and slightly stooped. His thinning hair was mostly gray, but there were enough sandy-colored strands left to provide a clue to its original color. He had a nice but careworn face and kind eyes.
Quiet
and
gentle
were the words that came to mind as Amy looked at him.

Cal's grandmother was also thin, but she radiated energy. She was dressed in jeans, her white hair closely cropped, and anticipation flashed in her eyes. Amy could almost imagine her hopping from one foot to the other in her excitement, an image so “ungrandmotherly,” it brought a smile to her lips. By the time Cal stopped the car and started to alight, the older woman was waiting at his door.

“My, it's good to see you, son!” she said, hugging him fiercely. “You've been way too scarce.”

Cal's father followed more slowly, a pipe in one hand, and patiently waited his turn to greet his son. When Cal at last stepped free of Gram's enthusiastic embrace, he reached out and pulled his father into a bear hug.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Hello, son. It's good to have you home.”

The two men stood like that for a long minute, and Amy could sense the bond of love between them. In fact, the three of them shared a circle of love that suddenly made her feel like an intruder. She didn't belong here. Cal should have used this rare break to spend time with his family, not entertain her. Maybe
he was already regretting the invitation. Maybe she should…

As if sensing their visitor's sudden discomfort, Gram leaned in the open door of the driver's side and smiled warmly.

“You must be Amy.” She held out her hand, and Amy's was engulfed in a firm clasp. “I'm Gram. Or Amanda. Whatever you prefer. I hope you'll excuse us. We're kind of a gushy bunch when we haven't seen each other for weeks. Usually we have a little more decorum when it comes to public displays of affection.” She turned back to the two men and clapped Cal on the back. “Break it up, you two. Let's go inside so our guest can settle in and I can get dinner on the table.”

Cal smiled and leaned in to look at Amy. “Sit tight. I'll get your door.”

Before she could protest, he strode around to her side and pulled it open, Gram and his father close on his heels.

“Gram, Dad, this is Amy Winter. Amy, I'd like you to meet my family.”

Cal's father stepped forward shyly and took her hand. “I'm very pleased to meet you, Amy. Cal has told us a lot of nice things about you.”

She smiled at the older man's courtly manner. “I've heard good things about you, too. I'm glad we had this chance to meet.”

Gram stepped forward next and enveloped her in a hug. She was small and wiry, but there was strength in her arms—and in her face. “We're mighty glad you came to visit, Amy. And honored. Cal told us all
about how you got hurt saving that little boy. You feeling okay after that long ride?”

Before she could reply, Cal spoke up. “She's tired. And I'm sure she's hungry. We didn't stop to eat on the way up.”

“Well, say no more. Dinner's on the stove. Some good food and rest will fix you up in no time, Amy. And the mountain air will do wonders for you. Clear your lungs of all that smog you breathe down in Atlanta.”

Cal smiled. “It's good to be back, Gram.”

She returned the smile, and when she spoke, her voice was warm and rang with a quiet sincerity. “Well, we're mighty glad to
have
you back. Welcome home—both of you.”

Cal glanced at Amy. For a moment their gazes met and held. And as he wondered if Gram's words were somehow prophetic, Amy had the oddest feeling. She'd never been anywhere near the Smokies before. But for some inexplicable reason, it really did feel like coming home.

T
wo hours later, stuffed with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade biscuits with honey and warm-from-the-oven apple pie with ice cream, Amy thought she was going to explode.

“I haven't eaten that much since…well, maybe never,” she groaned as she and Cal rocked gently on the porch swing.

He smiled. “Gram's a great cook.”

“Agreed. I feel guilty about not helping with the cleanup, though.”

“Don't. Hospitality is Gram's middle name. We'll have more luck pitching in after we've been around for a few days.”

The slowly-sinking sun cast a golden glow on the landscape, and Amy sighed contentedly as the swing moved rhythmically back and forth. “It's nice here,” she murmured.

“I thought you'd be missing the city lights by now,” Cal teased.

“I'm used to rural life, remember?”

“But you don't like it.”

“I wouldn't want to go back to the farm,” she conceded. “But this is different.”

When he didn't respond, she turned to find him studying her, a cryptic expression on his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked curiously.

He seemed momentarily taken aback by the question, but he recovered quickly. “Just wondering how you're feeling. How's the head?”

She glanced away. “Okay.”

“Amy…”

She looked back at him, caught off guard by his gently chiding tone. “What?”

“The truth.”

She tilted her head and studied his deep brown eyes, a frown creasing her brow. “How do you know I'm not telling the truth?”

He shrugged. “Your tone. Your body language. I don't know how I know. I just know.”

She shook her head. “No wonder you're such a good attorney. You have amazing powers of perception.”

“Only with certain people.” Before she could ponder that remark, he distracted her by draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Lean your head against me and relax.”

Relax? With her cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear? With the faint scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils? With the angle of his jaw brushing against her forehead, the faint end-of-day stubble cre
ating a sensuous texture against her skin? He must be kidding!

But as they swung gently back and forth, and dusk slowly deepened, she did relax. Cal could feel the gradual easing of her tense muscles, knew exactly when she finally dropped her defenses and simply gave herself up to the moment. He also knew she was afraid, just as he was, and he understood her caution. But he also knew—in fact, was even beginning to hope—that perhaps their fears were groundless. And before they left the mountains, he intended to find out.

 

“Amanda, these are gorgeous!” Amy held up yet another intricate hand-stitched quilt, her eyes alight.

Gram looked pleased. “The ladies do a wonderful job,” she agreed. “But all of our craftspeople are talented.”

Amy carefully laid the quilt down and glanced around the attractive and bustling craft co-op. Cal had told her how Gram had started it years ago to give locals an outlet for their work—as well as a chance to supplement often meager incomes—and how she had worked tirelessly to build it into a thriving business that visitors now sought out. Amy could see why. The quality of the merchandise was excellent, as was the variety.

“I'm impressed, Amanda,” she said honestly. “Cal told me about this, but I had no idea it was anything on this scale.”

Gram waved the praise aside. “I like to keep busy. And if I can help my neighbors at the same time, all the better. I'm glad it worked out for everybody.”

“Ready to go?” Cal came up beside Amy and draped an arm across her shoulders, something he'd been doing quite a lot of since they arrived.

She turned to look up at him, melting in the warmth of his eyes. Her voice suddenly deserted her, and she simply nodded.

“We'll be home in a couple of hours, Gram,” Cal said.

“Don't hurry. I'll be here awhile yet, and your dad's at a church committee meeting. You give Amy a good tour, show her some of our great scenery. But don't wear her out,” she warned.

Cal smiled. “Don't worry. I'll take good care of her.” He let his arm drop from her shoulders, but in the next instant captured her hand in a warm clasp as they headed for his car.

It was just another manifestation of the change that Amy had sensed in him almost from the moment he'd picked her up at her apartment. Until then, he'd held his feelings carefully in check. She figured that, like her, he'd probably overanalyzed the situation and arrived at the logical conclusion that nothing could develop between them. But neither had reckoned with the power of the heart or the strength of their mutual attraction, she admitted. She was still waging the fight between logic and emotion, but it appeared that Cal, at least for the duration of this trip, was letting his heart dictate his actions. Which suggested some interesting possibilities, Amy realized, as a delicious shiver of excitement swept over her.

Once they were on the road, Cal took on the role of tour guide as they drove along some of the many
scenic roads in the park. Finally he pulled into a parking area and turned to her.

“Do you feel like a little walk?”

“Sure. I even dressed for outdoor activity.”

“I noticed.” Her cotton blouse softly hugged her curves, nipped in at her slender waist by a hemp belt that emphasized her trim figure. Her long legs were encased in formfitting jeans that highlighted her lean, athletic build. But despite the ruggedness of her attire, she looked incredibly feminine—and very, very appealing. Yes, he'd definitely noticed, he thought wryly.

“I'm not exactly up to mountain climbing, though,” she cautioned, redirecting his train of thought.

“What I had in mind was a nice, easy walk along that stream.” He nodded to a tumbling brook, just visible through the trees.

“Sounds just my speed.”

As they set off, he once more took her hand, and Amy felt a lightness of heart that was at once strange and wonderful. Here, in this place, so far removed from the normal routine of her life, she suddenly felt free to let her feelings bubble to the surface—and to savor them instead of fear them. She liked being with Cal, liked the feel of his strong, sure fingers entwined with hers, liked the sense of being cared for that his presence invoked. They were good feelings, new feelings, feelings that at once both frightened and stirred her. And though she still didn't know where this was leading, she did know one thing with absolute cer
tainty: her decision to accept his invitation had been the right one.

They walked quietly for some time, the silence broken only by the splashing water and the call of birds. When at last the stream widened into a small pool fed by a tiered waterfall, Cal paused and looked down at her.

“This is one of my favorite spots. The waterfall isn't as dramatic as others in the park, so it gets fewer visitors. Usually I have the place to myself. Would you like to sit for a while?”

“Yes. It's lovely here.”

Cal led her to a large, flat rock dappled by the sun. She sat and drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and sighed contentedly.

He chuckled as he joined her. “My sentiments exactly.”

She turned to look at him. He, too, was dressed in jeans that hugged his slim hips and outlined his muscular legs. The sleeves of his cotton shirt were rolled to the elbows, revealing an expanse of sun-browned forearm flecked with dark hair. As he leaned back, putting his palms on the rock behind him, his shirt stretched tautly across his broad chest. Amy swallowed and, with an effort, transferred her gaze to his face. He had closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the sun, and she was struck again by the change in him since they'd arrived in the mountains. All evidence of strain had vanished, and he seemed completely happy and at ease—like this was where he belonged, she realized, inexplicably troubled by the thought.

He turned at that moment, and his eyebrows rose quizzically. “Why the frown?”

She dismissed his question with a shrug, unsure of the answer herself. “This place is good for you, you know.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem more…content here, I guess. And laid-back. In the city you always seem a little tense and on edge, like you never really relax.”

“I have a demanding job.”

“Yeah, I know all about demanding jobs,” she replied wryly.

“Yours seems particularly demanding. Not to mention dangerous.”

She shrugged. “Demanding, always. Dangerous, rarely.”

“Forgive me if I can't quite accept that. Not after this.” He leaned over and gently touched her head.

“That's the exception, Cal. I'm not in this work to get killed. Trust me.”

“But you don't hold back, either. Do you ever do anything halfway?”

She tipped her head and considered the question. “I've never thought of it quite that way before, but no, I guess not. I'm the type who does everything full-out—you know, the old ‘Anything worth doing is worth doing well' philosophy. And I can't just stand by when people are in trouble, either. That's always been one of my weaknesses.”

“I'd hardly call it that.”

“It is in my business. We're supposed to report stories—not become part of them.”

“Then maybe you're in the wrong business.”

His quiet remark hit too close to home, but she forced herself to smile. “Well, if I switched careers you'd have one less reporter to hate,” she countered, striving for a light tone.

He looked at her, and the intensity of his gaze made her breath catch in her throat. “I was wrong to make such a sweeping generalization, Amy. And I was especially wrong about one particular reporter. In fact,
hate
is the last word that comes to mind when I think of you.”

The husky cadence and intimate tone of his voice, along with the sudden warmth in his eyes, scared her, and she glanced away nervously.

“I liked your grandmother's shop,” she said with forced brightness. “Some of the things are so…”

The touch of his hand on her arm made the words stick in her throat.

“Amy.”

His voice was gentle but firm, and she drew a shaky breath. They'd been dodging this thing between them for too long, and Cal was finally facing it. But it took her several more moments to gather the courage to look at him. When she did, the tenderness in his eyes made her heart catch, then race on.

“Don't be afraid,” he said quietly.

Her throat constricted, and she swallowed with difficulty. “You sound like Kate.”

“How so?”

Amy broke eye contact and dropped her cheek to her knees. “She told me I was afraid, too. And you—you're both right.”

Cal slid closer and took her cold hand, cradling it in the warmth of his clasp. “You know what? So am I. But there's something between us too powerful to ignore. I've seen it in your face. And I've spent too many sleepless nights grappling with it. We need to deal with this thing.”

She looked at him again. “We're too different, Cal.”

“I used to think so. I'm not as sure anymore.”

“But we want different things out of life.”

“Do we?”

She drew a ragged breath. “Even if we had the same priorities, this isn't a good time for me. I'm still trying to build my career.”

“It's not the best time for me, either. I'm struggling with some pretty heavy decisions and, frankly, I don't need the distraction. But I've got it whether I want it or not. Because you, lovely lady, are one big distraction.”

He reached over then and touched her face, his gaze locked on hers. The feel of his fingertips against her skin sent her pulse off the scale, and she closed her eyes as he slowly traced the line of her jaw and the curve of her cheek. When he let his fingertips glide over her lips with a feather-light touch, she moaned softly.

“Oh, Amy, I've wanted to do this for so long,” he said hoarsely. And then he pulled her gently into his arms, one hand in the small of her back, the other beneath her hair, cradling her neck. For several long moments, he just held her tenderly, taking time to simply relish the long-dreamed-of closeness. He could
feel her trembling, but she didn't pull away, and he stroked her back reassuringly.

“It's okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips against her hair. “I'm just as scared as you are. We'll take this slow and easy, okay?”

Amy wasn't at all sure it was okay. This whole thing was moving far faster than she'd anticipated. But she could no longer deny her feelings for this man. She cared about him—deeply. Okay, so maybe this wasn't the best time in her life for romance. Maybe Cal didn't exactly fit the profile she'd created of her “ideal man.” She'd always imagined that someday she'd be half of a “power” couple, living a glittering, jet-set type life. Yet Cal had no interest in that. He liked things simple and unpretentious, and his priorities clearly didn't include power or prestige or worldly success. Amy's did. Or had. Oddly enough, she wasn't so sure they did anymore.

But she put those thoughts aside for the moment. As she savored the feel of Cal's strong arms about her, she felt safe, protected, cherished—and free. Which was odd. Even in a perfect relationship, she'd always imagined that one was less free because the partner's needs always had to be considered and accommodated. But for the first time, she considered the possibility that maybe she'd had it all wrong. Because here, wrapped in his arms, she sensed a love so supportive, so unconditional, that it was liberating, freeing her to take risks she might otherwise not consider because she always knew she had the safety net of his arms—and his love—to catch her if she fell. It was an astounding revelation, one to be carefully
thought through later, when her mind was behaving rationally. Certainly not now, when the feel of his hard chest against her soft curves was driving all lucid thoughts from her brain.