He waded out of the surf, his footsteps marring the smooth wet sand as he walked toward the two figures on a blanket near the weather-worn cottage in the dunes. He didn't have to think twice about the identity of the child. The little girl must be about six, the age Allison had been that first Christmas, and she looked the way Ally had then hair the pale platinum of the sea oats, a delicate heart-shaped face, and huge blue eyes. Just like the angel on their Christmas tree.
"Allison." He stopped short of the blanket. "Merry Christmas." It was what he'd said then.
She shaded her eyes against the December sunshine with her hand. "Hello, David."
He grinned. "You're supposed to say, 'Hello, boy.'"
Her answering smile was as cool and brittle as a shell washed up in the tide. "You're not a boy any longer."
She'd changed. Fine lines spelled worry on her face, and her lips were stiff. Even her hands, thin and elegant, seemed clenched for battle.
David squatted, careful not to track sand on the blanket. "What happened to you, Allison?" That was blunt, but he and Allison had always been able to speak their thoughts, as if they'd known each other forever and always would.
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned to the child. "Kristie, this is David Caldwell. He lives here on the island. David, my daughter, Kristie."
"Hi." He held out his hand. The child hesitated, then nodded and put her small hand in his. It was like holding a sand dollar, soft and quivering on his palm.
He didn't let his gaze stray toward the heavy brace on her leg, nor the child-size wheelchair at the edge of the blanket. But maybe he understood what had wiped the sense of wonder from Allison's blue eyes.
"So you've come to spend Christmas at the beach, just like your momma used to do when she was your age."
Her eyes lit. "Did you know my mommy when she was little?"
"I sure did. I taught her everything she knows about the ocean." He glanced at Allison. No wedding band on her left hand, only the faintest pale line. "Didn't I?"
"I'm afraid I've forgotten most of it." Her smile brushed him off as coolly as a sweep of her hand would a sand fly. "It's too long ago."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Is it?"
"Yes." Her mouth clamped shut on the word, dismissing their friendship as if it had never been.
Well. He sat back on his heels. Allison clearly didn't want to go back to the way things had been.
But as for him
He hadn't changed. He wanted to see his angel-girl again.
David didn't look as if her rebuff had had much effect on him, Allison decided. He sat barefoot in the sand, much as he had at ten or twelve.
He was sun-browned, as he'd been years ago; his hair streaked to a sand color, and his eyes the changeable blue-green of the ocean. And he still had that easy lopsided smile that had once lodged itself in her heart.
But he wasn't that boy any longer. The height and breadth of him startled her, as if some trick of photography had taken the boy she knew and turned him into a man.
David sifted sand through his fingers, apparently content to laze on the beach all day. A spurt of irritation hit her. Was that what he'd turned into a beachcomber?
"What brings you back after all this time?" he asked.
It had been a lifetime, but he didn't need to know that. "I promised to show Kristie the island. What are you doing these days?" Besides walking on the beach. She didn't add that, but he probably caught the implication in her tone.
His eyes crinkled, as if he laughed at her on the inside. He'd always done that when she'd betrayed her ignorance of this natural space between mainland and ocean that he called home.
"A little of this, a little of that. I help at the inn, run dolphin tours for the tourists."
Exasperation filled her. "You're a bright person, David. You could have done anything with your life."
The moment the words were out, she regretted them. Her own track record wasn't exactly stellar.
"This is what I want to do." His voice was gentle. "Maybe you and Kristie would like to go with me one day to see the dolphins."
"I'm afraid we won't have time for that." She glanced at the cottage, her only tangible asset she'd held on to since the divorce. It was a wonder Richard hadn't tried to take that, too. "I'll be too busy getting the cottage fixed up."
She'd have to work quickly if she wanted to get the place on the market soon. At least she had her priorities straight now: sell the cottage so she'd have a nest egg; get Kristie through her next surgery; start the new job in Atlanta that would make her and her daughter independent. That left no time in her schedule for something as frivolous as a dolphin tour.
"I guess you'll want the cottage in shape for a real sea-island Christmas. Maybe I can give you a hand."
"I can take care of it myself." She stood, brushing sand from her slacks. "Time to go now, Kristie."
David picked up the wheelchair. "Let me."
She snatched it from him. "I don't need any help, thanks."
No help, no one to depend on. She'd learned that the hard way. From now on she would be tough and practical, and she'd depend only on herself.
"If that's the way you want it." A hint of sadness showed in David's eyes.
"It is."
He shrugged. "See you around, then."
No, she wouldn't see him. She'd been rude enough that David wouldn't come back again, and that was for the best.
So why did she feel as if she'd just lost something important?
"Are you sure she won't come over to supper?" David's mother turned from the stove to give him a perplexed frown. "There's plenty, and we'd love to have them."
He couldn't help but smile. There was always plenty to eat at the Dolphin Inn, even when there were no guests checked in. His mother and his gran were used to cooking for a horde of Caldwells.
"Not today, Momma. Maybe later." Maybe not at all, judging by the way his angel-girl had brushed him off.
Gran, her blue eyes wise behind her wire-rimmed glasses, handed him a cookie tin. "You take these cookies for the little girl, then. She won't turn down something for her child."
He kissed her firm cheek. "What makes you so smart?"
"A lot of livin'." She swatted him gently on the arm. "You remember, boy. Whatever's wrong there, Christmas works wonders on the heart."
* * *
Gran's words lingered in his mind as he drove down the lane to Allison's cottage. Christmas works wonders. Would even Christmas be enough to bring back the friendship he'd cherished?
He pulled into the drive, turned off the engine, and hesitated, recognizing the tightness in his belly for what it was. When had he ever been nervous about seeing Allison?
Something's hurt her bad, Father, he prayed silently. Something even worse than the child's problems. Show me what I can do.
He went to the back door.
"David." Allison clearly hadn't expected to see him. "I'm rather busy."
"This won't take a minute." He edged past her into the kitchen. The child sat at the round oak table, looking at him warily. "I brought something." He held up the tin.
Allison stiffened. "I don't need "
"It's not for you." He handed the tin to Kristie. "My gran was baking Christmas cookies. Thought you might like some."
"For me?" Her cheeks grew pink when she lifted the lid and saw the iced bells and reindeer. "May I, Mommy? Please?"
Allison's shell seemed to melt when she looked at her daughter. "Just one now. I'm making supper." She glanced at the elderly gas range. "If I can get that monster lit, anyway."
He'd learned his lesson when he'd picked up that wheelchair without permission. "May I?" he asked.
She studied his face before she nodded. "Okay."
She watched him as he got the burners going, her attitude that of someone looking at a museum piece. "Are you sure it's safe?" Her glance toward Kristie was fiercely protective.
"Seems okay. But you'd best not use the oven until I can check it out."
Her face tightened. "I can hire someone to do that."
"Sure you can. But why should you?" He leaned against the stove. "Way I see it, you've got a lot to do to get this place ready for Christmas. I'm not busy just now. I'd like to give you a hand."
There. He'd said it. He held his breath, waiting for the rejection he was sure would come.
David's offer of help hung in the air between them. Instinct told Allison to reject both his help and his friendship.
He reminded her too much of the girl she used to be the dreamer who'd expected promises would last forever.
But she already felt overwhelmed by the amount of work that had to be done on the cottage, and despite her quick words, she really couldn't afford to hire someone.
"Maybe you'd better see how bad the cottage is before you make an offer like that."
She didn't miss the relief on his face, and it gave her a twinge of shame. David couldn't help it that he reminded her she'd once seen the world with a foolish sense of wonder.
She led the way into the living room. Showing him around didn't commit her to anything, after all.
"This doesn't look bad." He tugged at a piece of dangling wallpaper. "The paper will come off, and a coat of paint will do wonders."
A wave of relief swept over her at his assessment.
He nodded toward the steps. "How's the upstairs?"
"Not as bad as this." She hesitated, caught between what she wanted and what she needed. "Are you sure you have time to help?"
His smile was like sunlight on the water. "Absolutely. It'll be pure pleasure getting this place ready for you and Kristie to enjoy. It's been empty too long."
She almost told him she wasn't getting it ready to enjoy. She was getting it ready to sell.
Some instinctive caution stilled the words. David might not be so eager to help if he knew she had no intention of staying. Thoughts of her dwindling bank account and Kristie's upcoming surgery hung heavy. Perhaps it would be best if David didn't know her plans.
She wasn't lying to him. She just wasn't telling him everything.
"Well, that's great." She managed to produce a smile. "Since you're here, maybe you'd give me a hand with these windows." Anyone buying the place would want to enjoy the ocean breezes. "They're stuck."
"Sure thing." He gave the nearest window an experimental tug. "Do you have a knife I can use to loosen this paint?"
She should not be noticing the way his muscles flexed, nor the glint of sunlight on his tanned arms. "I'll get one."
She scurried to the kitchen and back. She gave him the knife, then started to step away. David took her hand.
"Just hold this for a minute " he pressed her palm against the frame " until I can wedge the blade in place."
Inches separated them. He was so close she could count the sun wrinkles around his eyes, smell his fresh masculine scent, hear the quick intake of his breath.
She was not attracted to David Caldwell, she told herself sternly, trying to control her own breathing. He was nothing but an old childhood friend.
So why couldn't she get her pulse under control?
"Please, Kristie." Allison's voice floated down the stairs of the cottage the next day. "You have to exercise to get well."
The child's answer was muted, stubborn, and uncooperative.
Clearly Allison had a basketful of troubles. Talking with an old friend might help, if David could get her to open up.
He resumed scraping as she came down. "Hey, Ally."
"I see you still say 'hey' instead of 'hi.'" Her smile flickered. "I guess things don't change on the island."
"Not much. Folks get married, have babies, have troubles, but life keeps on going."
She picked up a scraper and started working next to him. If she'd seen his words as a conversation opener, she ignored the invitation.
Maybe he'd best be a bit more direct. "Sounds like that little girl of yours is as stubborn as her momma."
Allison ripped a strip of paper loose. "She won't exercise. The doctors say she has to build up strength for her next surgery."
"Next surgery?" Poor child. Poor mother, too.
She was silent for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to confide in him. "Kristie was born with a malformed hip. She's had a series of operations. The one next month should be the last."
His heart hurt for them. "So you feel like you have to push her."
"It's not just the exercises. She doesn't want the surgery." She shoved the scraper so hard it dug into the plaster. "I understand that, but we can't give up now."
He leaned against the wall, studying her determined expression, trying to understand. "So you brought her here."
She turned, her arm brushing his as she looked out at the beach. "I remembered how peaceful the island is."
He had a brief, fleeting memory of the angel-girl who'd loved the island so much on her vacation visits. She wanted Kristie to have that, too.
"I thought this place would be good for her that the change in scene would encourage her to try again."
She was talking to him as easily as she always had. Maybe that meant he could ask the question that was haunting his thoughts.
"What about Kristie's father? Doesn't he help with her?"
Her face tightened. "No."
He waited, sure there was more.
"Everything always had to be perfect for Richard. His wife, his car, his apartment. When his daughter wasn't he walked away." She looked at him, blue eyes direct. "Was that what you wanted to know?"
Maybe she'd been wrong to come back to the island. Allison unloaded groceries from the car, frowning. She'd thought this would be good for Kristie, but Kristie hadn't responded.
She longed to see her daughter running along the beach the way she used to, arms spread wide as if to take flight with the gulls. No classes, no dance or music lessons, no approved play dates with children from her mother's social set. Just freedom.
And David. She seemed to see two figures on the shining sand left by the ebb tide. Always the tanned gangly boy had encouraged, taught, shared the wonders of his world. How much credit was David's for the happiness she'd found here?
That was past. This was now. She hauled the remaining bag from the truck and slammed the lid. David had his life, such as it was. Peaceful, probably, but certainly lacking in ambition.
And she had hers. She had to keep her eyes pinned on her goals. Sell the cottage. Get Kristie through her final surgery. Start the job that would make them independent.
Repeating the words in her mind, she went into the cottage.
She set groceries on the table, registering the sounds from the living room. David seemed to be using her absence to play a game with Kristie instead of getting on with the painting.
She couldn't complain, she supposed, since she wasn't paying him. But still
She stopped in the doorway, her annoyance draining away.
"Simon says, 'Put your hand on your head,'" Kristie said importantly, doing the motion. "Sit on the floor."
David, smiling, sat down.
"I caught you!" Kristie crowed. "I didn't say 'Simon says.' You have to be it."
"Maybe your momma should," he suggested.
For a moment Allison's throat was too tight to respond. Kristie, moving as if the heavy brace on her leg weighed nothing. Laughing as she hadn't laughed in what seemed like months.
"I'll be it," she managed finally. "Just let me put the cold things in the fridge first." She turned away before either of them could see the tears in her eyes.
"I'll give you a hand." David followed her to the kitchen. "Hope you don't mind," he said softly. "I didn't let her do anything too lively."
"Mind?" She reached to him impulsively. "I'm grateful."
He caught her hand in a strong grasp that warmed her to her heart. "No need. She's a great kid. Just like her momma."
She tried to ignore the way her heart thumped. Perhaps David's low-key approach would be as good for Kristie as it had once been for her.
"Mommy, guess what?" Kristie stood in the doorway, bracing herself with her hands. "David's going to take us out on his boat tomorrow to look for dolphins. Isn't that great?"
Allison pulled her hand away from his, her gaze chilling. Maybe David was good for Kristie. But he had no right to make plans for her for them without talking to her first.
David steered the Spyhop slowly into the channel. Kristie, life jacket bright over her navy jacket, bounced with excitement. Allison clasped her daughter, every tense line of her body saying she didn't want to be here.
"I've never run you aground before. I won't today."
She turned a startled face to him. "I don't think that."
"You grip that rail any tighter, you're going to bend it."
"Not unless I've been eating my collard greens."
The unexpected response took him back to evenings when Allison had joined the Caldwells for supper. Gran had teased her to try things her own mother wouldn't have served on her table.
"Come to supper and you can have some." He liked seeing her face relax at his teasing. Allison shouldn't have to go through life tensed up as if waiting for a blow to fall.
"When will we see the dolphins?" Kristie edged forward.
"We're headed for the sound on the other side of the island. The pod is usually there about now."
"And if not?" Allison smiled as she got in a little teasing of her own. "How will the dolphin expert explain that?"
He shook his head in mock sorrow. "I don't know. They might make me give back my degree."
"Degree?"
He enjoyed her surprise. "Oceanography. Sorry, sugar. I know you had me pegged as a beach bum."
"I did not." But the flush in her cheeks said differently. "I remember you talked about college that last Christmas."
He nodded, making the wide turn around the end of the island. They skimmed over the waves toward the sound.
He remembered that last Christmas, too especially the look on her mother's face when she'd seen them walking along the beach, hand in hand. "You never came back. I was sorry."
"My mother always had other plans for Christmas." She smoothed her hand along Kristie's hair, ruffled by the wind. "And then well, college, marriage..."
"Life intervened," he suggested.
"I guess." Her face tightened again. "I haven't had much time for vacations. I've had to be practical."
Practical. It seemed a sad word in connection with the girl who'd danced along the beach, hair flowing in the wind.
"Look." He throttled back, letting the Spyhop idle on the waves. "There they are." He pointed as first one, then another dolphin made a silver arc through the waves.
"Oh." Eyes shining, Kristie clasped her hands in awe.
She should look that way more often. The child needed a sense of wonder to sustain her through the difficult times ahead. Didn't Allison see that?
He looked at Ally, and his heart seemed to stop at her expression. Ally needed to regain that sense of wonder, too, just as much as her daughter did.
And if he thought all he wanted from Allison was friendship, he'd been kidding himself.
Allison held her breath as the dolphins cartwheeled through the waves. How could she have forgotten that incredible sight?
"They seem so " she sought for words " free."
David leaned on the rail next to her, letting the boat rock gently. "They are that. I remember you always loved them."
His voice was soft, recalling the past they'd shared. Somehow in the busy stressful years she'd forgotten that, but now it seemed to be here, waiting for her.
"Look at that one, David." Her daughter's face was lit with wonder. "Do they live here always?"
"They travel, but they always come back to us."
He bent close to Kristie as he began telling her some fanciful story about dolphins saving a shipwrecked sailor. Their faces wore identical looks of childlike innocence. Allison had felt that way, too, when she was Kristie's age. A longing swept over her, powerful as a riptide, to feel that way again.
No. Her rejection was almost panic-stricken. She couldn't go back. She had to be practical. She had to take care of herself and Kristie, because no one else would.
"Do you remember counting dolphins with me, Ally?" David's smile invited her back into that world she'd left.
"No." That was a lie. She remembered. But she shouldn't. "Is this what you're doing with your oceanography degree?" She wielded the question like a weapon to push him away.
He shrugged, refusing to take offense. "Maybe the degree helps me appreciate it more."
"You can't build a career on appreciation. Or dreams."
"You can't build a life without both."
He didn't seem to expect a response to that. He just leaned on the railing next to Kristie, watching the dolphins, apparently content to let the day slip away with the tide.
She should be telling him how improvident he was. Instead all she could think was how secure he seemed. "You're happy, aren't you?"
The fine lines crinkled around his eyes. "Why not? I live in a place I love. A place my family has loved for generations. Gran says that Caldwells always come back to Caldwell Island, because this is where we belong."
Suddenly, Allison realized he wasn't searching for anything, because he already had it all.
"You're a lucky man, David. You have everything you want."
Some emotion she couldn't identify touched his eyes. "Nobody has that. Maybe someday." He stretched, muscles flexing under his denim shirt. "Today, I'll settle for this." His gesture took in the sea, the dolphins, even her and Kristie.
That sense of freedom she'd felt when she caught her first glimpse of the dolphins seized her again. Maybe today she could push away all the things she should do in favor of what she wanted to be here, right now, with David and Kristie.
Just for today.
David eased the boat toward the dock, watching Allison's relaxed expression harden. Her cares were a visible weight, making his Ally into the brittle, determined woman she'd become.
"Thank you." Her voice surprised him with its softness. "I guess you were right. We both needed this."
"A little relaxation never hurt anyone." He had to keep it light, or he'd give in to the longing to try and take her cares away permanently, and that was beyond him.
He nodded toward the dock. "You'd better get ready. Looks like they've sent out the big guns."
"What are you talking about?"
"Gran's waiting for us. My loving interfering family thinks you should stay for supper. Nobody ever refuses Gran."
"I can't. I have to go home and get some work done."
He shrugged. "Don't tell me. Tell Gran."
He busied himself tying the boat while Ally and his grandmother skirmished. The result was predictable.
* * *
"Have another piece of key lime pie," his mother urged.
Allison shook her head. "I couldn't possibly."
They'd had dessert and coffee in the living room, watching as his sister Miranda and her boy, Sammy, lured Kristie into making Christmas tree ornaments out of shells. Kristie, shy at first, had thawed under the flow of warmth from his family.
Ally had, too, but she was fighting it. "I really have to go home and get some work done," she said for the third time.
"No need to hurry off." His father stretched long legs out toward the fire. "If David's not giving you enough help, you say the word and I'll bring Daniel and Theo over to work."
Allison looked a little overwhelmed at the thought of all those Caldwell men in her small cottage. "Thanks, but we're doing fine. I do need to get Kristie home before she falls asleep."
"I'm awake." Kristie's words were interrupted by a yawn.
David grinned and got up. "I'll drive you."
Daniel and Theo embarked on a mock battle over who got to carry Kristie to the car that had the child giggling. David's mother shoved a plate of pie into Allison's hands.
"Come again tomorrow," she urged. "Or if you can't do that, at least promise you'll spend Christmas Eve with us."
Ally evaded the invitation politely, and they finally escaped the clutch of family. David paused for a moment on the porch, waiting while Theo put Kristie in the backseat.
"Do you remember telling me once you wanted a family like mine?" He looked at Allison, laughter in his voice.
"I remember." For an instant, unguarded longing shone in her eyes.
David's heart clenched. Was that what she'd tried to have with Richard?
And after a failure like that, would she ever be willing to try again?
What on earth had gotten into her? Allison stared at live oaks draped with Spanish moss as David drove them back to the cottage. She'd practically agreed to spend Christmas with the Caldwells.
She was as drawn to their warmth now as she had been years ago, when she'd seen the contrast with her cold, barren home life. But now she had Kristie and her own independence to hold on to.
The car pulled up to the cottage. She'd left lights on, and they showed yellow and welcoming through the new curtains.
"It looks like home," he said lightly.
"Yes." She shook off the tempting thought. "I'm afraid our apartment in Atlanta isn't quite so cozy."
"How soon will you go?" He sounded as if it mattered.
"I promised Kristie we'd stay until her surgery. Mid-January." She glanced toward the backseat. "She's asleep."
"I'll get her."
He was lifting Kristie before Allison could get out. Having David around didn't do her drive for independence a lot of good. She opened the front door and nodded toward the couch.
"Just put her there. I'll take her up in a bit."
David settled Kristie on the couch, tucking the afghan around her gently. He smoothed her tousled hair. "What a sweetheart she is."
There was a lump in her throat the size of a baseball. He saw the beauty in Kristie that her own father had never discerned.
"Yes. I wish " She wished so much for her child.
"She's going to be fine."
"Yes." She had to believe that. She cleared her throat. "Thank you, David. For everything." She held the door open.
He started through, then paused on the threshold and touched her arm, nodding toward the ocean. "Look."
She stepped out onto the porch with him. A nearly full moon cast a shimmering silver pathway across the dark water, mesmerizing in its beauty.
"Your grandmother used to tell us a story," she said softly. "Something about sailing off on a stream of moonbeams to wonderful adventures. I dreamed about that for years."
"Good dreams, I hope." He was very close, his voice a low baritone rumble.
"The best." An odd, somehow familiar longing touched her. She wanted What? She didn't know.
That sent a tinge of panic through her. She knew what she wanted sell the cottage; get through Kristie's surgery; start her new job. Why did she feel so uncertain? She shivered.
"You're cold. You should go in." David touched her, his palms warm on her arms.
She should. But somehow her gaze tangled with David's; somehow his hands were drawing her close, his lips finding hers, and the world went spinning away along the path of moonbeams.
She pulled away, her lips cold where his had been. This was crazy. She turned and bolted into the cottage before she could do something even crazier, like kiss him again.
David whistled as he drove down the lane. Ally was going back to Atlanta in three weeks, but she and Kristie would come for weekends, maybe longer while Kristie recuperated.
Even Allison's rapid retreat after their kiss didn't discourage him. They had plenty of time for their relationship to grow, and they had years of friendship to build it on.
He parked and took the box he'd brought into the cottage, finding Kristie at the kitchen table.
"Hey, sugar. I have something for you from Sammy."
Kristie slid from the chair, grabbed her crutches, and went into the living room without even acknowledging his presence.
So much for all his good cheer.
"I'm sorry." Ally kept her voice low. "Kristie woke up when we were on the porch last night. She saw us."
"Saw us kissing, you mean."
Her gaze evaded his. "I tried to explain that we're just friends. That it didn't mean anything."
He put the sand dollar he'd brought on the table, then arranged the glue and glitter in a neat row. "Didn't it?"
"No." That sounded firm, but she didn't meet his eyes.
"Maybe I should talk to her."
"I think it's better to forget it." She did meet his gaze then, and he saw that she didn't just mean Kristie.
She might be able to forget, but he didn't think he would.
"Well, guess I'd better get to work, then." He carried a paint can into the living room. Kristie was curled on the couch with a book. "Sammy sent you a sand dollar shell and some glitter and glue. So you can make a Christmas ornament if you want."
Kristie put the book down, still not speaking.
He bent to open the paint can. "If you need any help, just tell me." He started painting.
By the time Allison got her brush and joined him, Kristie had made her way to the table and was bending over the shell.
"Thank you." Allison concentrated on the paint she was applying. "And tell Sammy thanks, too."
He suppressed a smile. Ally and her daughter were alike in more than just looks.
By the time they'd finished the woodwork along one wall, Allison was talking normally again, as if determined to show him that she had forgotten that kiss.
"David?" Kristie's voice was small. "Could you help me?"
"Sure thing." He found her ready to attach the hanging string. "Hey, great job. Do you know why we use the sand dollar for Christmas?" He felt Ally move, standing behind him.
Kristie shook her head. "Tell me."
"See, on this side is the shape of an Easter lily, and inside it is a star." He turned it over. "On the other side is a poinsettia. So the sand dollar is perfect for Christmas."
Kristie dangled the ornament from one finger. "Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry I acted mean."
He touched her cheek lightly. "Friends help each other."
Kristie's smile flashed. Apparently their crisis was over.
But Ally he could feel the tension that went through her at his words. And he didn't have the slightest idea why.
Allison had felt guilty all afternoon, and nothing she had said to herself seemed to help. She scrubbed paint off her hands at the kitchen sink, trying to ignore the feeling. She couldn't.
David had gone home after painting all day, whistling as happily as if she'd given him a gift by letting him work. She didn't feel that carefree, unfortunately.
His innocent comment to Kristie about friends helping each other had stung her. David helped because he had a good heart, and because he lived in a place where such simple acts of kindness were routine.
And all the while she was deceiving him carefully avoiding the truth about why she was fixing up the cottage. If he knew she intended to sell it
Well, what? Did she imagine he'd stop helping her if he knew that? That was silly. David wasn't that kind of person.
Maybe she was just afraid of the disappointment in his eyes if he knew she'd kept it from him. David's honesty had always made her want to measure up. Somehow that hadn't changed.
A car pulling into the drive brought her to the window with a ridiculous leap of her heart. It wasn't David. His grandmother came toward the door, carrying a basket.
She opened the door. "Mrs. Caldwell, how nice to see you."
"Just dropping by with a little something for your supper. I know you and David have been painting all day." She bustled in, put the basket on the table, and started unloading it.
"You didn't need to do that." She felt helpless in the face of all this goodwill. She couldn't very well close the door to keep out kindness, but it only increased her guilt.
"This is chicken pot pie, and that one's pickled beets. And I brought another tin of my Christmas cookies, 'cause David said your little girl really enjoyed them."
"You're all being too kind."
"I don't reckon there's such a thing as too kind." Her faded blue eyes, sharp behind her glasses, inspected Allison.
"David's here every day helping, and now you come with food." There was a ridiculous stinging behind her eyes.
"David comes because he wants to. After all, the two of you were always special to each other. Now that you're back, it's only natural he wants to help."
Special to each other. "I'm not here to stay for good, you know. I'll be starting a job in Atlanta in a few months."
Gran Caldwell just smiled and shook her head. "You still belong here, even if you spend some of the time away."
"I don't "
But David's grandmother was already picking up her basket. "I'd best get home. Don't you worry about David. Land, that boy was over here fixing the roof when we didn't know if you'd ever come back. He's not going to mind a bit of painting."
She whisked out the door before Allison could say anything, even supposing the huge ball of guilt in her throat would have allowed her to speak. David had fixed the roof, and he'd never even mentioned it. How much more did she owe him?
Allison waited, nervous but determined, for David to arrive. She had to find out how much the materials had cost to fix the roof, even if he wouldn't take money for labor. And she also had to tell him the truth about why she was fixing the place.
This was no big deal, she assured herself. But that didn't seem to erase the sensation of dread in her stomach.
It was just as well that she had to be out for the rest of the day. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and they'd skip working. By the time the holiday was over, they'd both be back to normal.
The sound of his footstep on the porch sent her pulse accelerating. Yes, indeed, normal was certainly a good idea.
"Hey." He stopped, taking in her business suit. "What's happening? You don't look ready for painting."
"I have to go to Beaufort today. The firm I'm going to be working for asked me to take care of something for them."
"The day before Christmas Eve? Can't they wait until after the holiday?"
She'd asked herself that, but it annoyed her coming from him. "This job could take me right to the top. I can't refuse the first thing they've asked me to do."
His gaze assessed her. "Fine. Kristie can stay with me."
"No, I'll take Kristie along." She swallowed. Just say it. "But I wanted to ask you something. Your grandmother said you fixed the roof on the cottage. I'm sure that must have cost something for materials, and I want to pay you."
He looked just as offended by that as she'd thought he would. "You don't owe me a thing," he said flatly.
"But the roofing materials "
"We always have stuff like that around the inn for repairs. We don't want money for doing a neighbor a good turn."
Her frustration probably didn't make sense, but she felt it anyway. "But I wasn't even here then. And after the way my parents let the place deteriorate, I'd think you'd be glad to see it fall down."
"I knew you'd want the cottage someday."
"How?" She wanted to shout at him. "How did you know?"
He shrugged. "I knew. People don't change all that much. You always loved this place, even though your folks didn't. I knew you could never sell it."
Now was clearly the moment to tell him that she was doing just that. Unfortunately the words seemed lodged in her throat, unwilling to come out.
As little as she wanted to acknowledge it, she knew why.
She didn't want to lose what they had. It could never be anything but friendship, but she didn't want to risk it.
Kristie appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas.
"Kristie, what are you doing? I said to get dressed."
"I don't want to go. I want to stay with David."
"You can't." She glanced at her watch. This had taken more time than it should, and she was already late.
"She can stay with me." David smiled. "No problem."
No problem for him. For her, it was just one more reason to feel grateful to him. And one more reason to feel guilty.
"The wise man built his house upon the rock," Kristie sang as she patted sand onto her sandcastle.
David grinned. "We just have sand to build on here."
Kristie glanced toward the cottage. "Do the houses fall down, then?" Her small face was serious.
"Not your house," he assured her. He patted the sandcastle. "The tide will take this away, but your house is structurally sound. That means it's strong inside, even if we did need to do a little painting to make it look nice."
His thoughts slipped to Ally, as they had a tendency to do too often. When he'd seen her dressed in her power suit instead of her jeans and sweatshirt, every hair in place, she'd been a different person smart, ambitious, determined.
But that brittle sophistication was on the surface, wasn't it? Underneath, where it counted, Ally was sound.
Kristie scraped at the sand with a shell. "I wish we didn't ever have to go away from here."
I wish that, too, sugar, David thought. But he couldn't say it.
"Your momma told me you don't want to have your operation," he said carefully. "But it sure would be nice if next time you come, we could play sandpiper tag."
Kristie looked up, intrigued. "What's sandpiper tag?"
"Your momma and I used to play that." He saw Ally running, laughing, happy. He pointed to a row of sandpipers strutting along the wet sand. "It's like tag, but you can't tap someone without running between the sandpipers first."
"I can't do that." She frowned at her brace.
"After you have your operation, you will." Please, God.
"But if I'm well " She paused, digging her fingers into the sand. "If I'm better, Mommy will go to work all the time."
He hesitated, aware that Ally probably wouldn't appreciate his interference. But the child deserved someone to listen.
"I guess maybe she'll have to, so she can earn money to take care of you. She'll still spend a lot of time with you."
Kristie shook her head, her silky blond hair obscuring her expression. "She'll work all the time, like Daddy. I heard her one time. She told him he was doing it to stay away from me."
"Oh, honey." His heart hurt for them. "That's not true for your momma. She loves you more than anything."
Her lower lip came out. "Maybe that's why Mommy wants me to have the operation. So she can go to work every day instead of staying with me."
He took her sandy hand in a firm grip. "Now, that's just plain silly. Your momma wants you to have that operation so you can be better. So you can run and play and have fun. I know that as well as I know that the tide's gonna come in."
Kristie looked up at him, fear and hope battling in her blue eyes. "You sure?"
"Positive." He made it just as strong as he could, relieved when hope won out in her expression.
He'd talk to Ally. He'd help her understand Kristie's fears. They'd find a solution to make both of them happy.
To make all three of them happy.
If Allison's mind whirled any faster, she wouldn't be able to drive. She crossed the bridge onto the island, trying to think this through rationally. The firm actually wanted her to start her new job two days after Christmas.
Her initial reaction had been that it was impossible, but that wasn't an option. Needing someone in the office immediately, her future boss had made it clear: She started, or the job went to someone else.
So she had no choice. She'd have to put the cottage on the market tomorrow, if she could find a Realtor open. Get a nanny for Kristie
Kristie would not be happy. She'd remind Allison of her promise to stay on the island until the time of the surgery. Somehow, Allison would have to make her daughter understand. This job would secure their future.
She had to tell someone else, too. David would be what? Sad? Disappointed? Angry?
She didn't know. But as she pulled in next to his car, she knew she was about to find out.
They were sitting at the table in the kitchen, playing a board game. She paused for a moment. They made a nice picture.
"Mommy!" Kristie's face lit up. "I beat David two times!"
"That's great, honey." She put her bag down and took a deep breath. The moment was here, and she didn't know how to say it.
"Has something happened?" David read her too easily.
"I have some news." She took another breath. It didn't help. "I talked to my new boss today. He wants me to start my job right away. Right after Christmas."
Kristie went from smiling to tearful in a second. "Mommy, no! You promised we'd stay here until my operation. I don't want to go back."
"I know I promised, Kristie, but I have to do this. It'll be okay. I'll find someone really nice to stay with you."
"I don't want someone nice. I want to stay here!" Kristie slid off her chair and lurched toward the other room. "I hate you!"
"Kristie " Allison started after her, her eyes swimming with tears. But David caught her hand.
"Wait."
She tried to shake him off. "I have to go to her."
"There's something you have to hear first." His eyes were very serious. "Something Kristie told me today."
She stopped, held by his expression. "What?"
Now David looked reluctant to speak. "She talked about why she doesn't want to have the operation."
She seemed to feel his heart beating through his hand. He was going to say something she didn't want to hear she knew it.
"Kristie said she doesn't want to have the operation because if she's well, you'll leave her to go to work. She said that's what her father did. He worked a lot, so he didn't have to be around her."
The words stabbed straight to her heart.
David didn't want to cause her pain, but however it hurt, Ally had to know why Kristie was so opposed to the surgery.
"I'm sorry." His words were inadequate.
"Why did she tell you? What did you say to her?"
"I tried to reassure her that you love her, that's all. We were talking about all the things she could do when you come back to the island after her operation."
"We won't be back."
Now it was his turn to stare, stunned. "What?"
Her face had lost all the softness it had acquired since she'd returned. "I'm selling the cottage. I can't afford a vacation house, and our future is in Atlanta, not here."
He shook his head slowly, trying to take it in. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought you wouldn't help if you knew."
"Ally " He didn't know what to say to that. "You know that's not true. We're friends."
She rubbed her forehead, and for an instant he thought her eyes shimmered with tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just couldn't figure out how to tell you."
He tried to push away his own feelings long enough to figure out what she needed. "Look, are you sure this is what you really want? A job so demanding it will consume your life?"
"It's a good job," she said, looking as stubborn as Kristie sometimes did.
"Good for you and Kristie? Or good because it will bring in a high salary?"
Her temper flared. "That's not fair. I have a child to support. I can't afford to work only when I want to. I need a real job."
This was probably not the moment to say that his job was real, even though it wasn't as prestigious as the position that waited for her in Atlanta.
"You don't have to go back to the city for that. You could work in Beaufort and live right here in the cottage. Kristie could have friends around her and the kind of life you always said you wanted."
"I was twelve when I said that. I didn't know anything." Her mouth firmed. "I've learned, believe me. I can't count on anyone else. I've made my plans, and I'll follow them."
"Gran would say we're not in charge of planning our own lives."
"Your grandmother is a lovely person, but I have to do what I think is best for my child."
With her face hard and determined and her voice brittle, she didn't look anything like the girl he remembered.
"All right, Ally." He felt a flicker of anger. "But while you're doing what you've planned, just be careful you don't turn into the same kind of person your husband was."
"Come on, Kristie. Help me put some ornaments on the tree." Allison had run out on Christmas Eve to get a small tree, in spite of the fact that they'd be leaving soon, hoping that might make her daughter happy. It wasn't working.
"I want to go to David's house." Kristie shoved her lower lip out. "They invited us, remember?"
"I know, but " But what? She could hardly tell her daughter that she wasn't sure of her welcome there. Or that she didn't want to be confronted by David, challenging her decisions.
I'm right. I know. I have to take care of my daughter.
But David's words kept coming back to her every moment that she wasn't actively pushing them away. Are you sure you're doing what's right for Kristie? That was what his argument amounted to. Are you sure you aren't turning into the same kind of person your husband was?
Of course she wasn't. Was she arguing with David or with God?
You gave me this special child. Surely You expect me to take care of her as best I can.
Turning into the same kind of person your husband was? Had she really begun measuring herself by Richard's standards?
She rejected that, a little panic-stricken. If she didn't have the plans she'd been relying on, what did she have?
Help me. Please, she prayed. Show me that the decisions I've made are right for us.
The knock at the door came on the heels of her prayer, almost like an Amen.
She opened it to find David standing on the porch. For a moment she could only stare at him. "David."
He lifted an eyebrow. "It's Christmas Eve. You promised to spend it with us, remember?"
"I don't remember promising anything."
"Mommy, you did. You promised." Kristie's pout had vanished as she hobbled to the door. "We have to go to David's. I want to put my sand dollar on his tree."
David smiled at her. "You go get it, okay?"
"Okay." She hurried toward the kitchen, eyes shining.
David looked at Allison, and she felt a ridiculous longing to step forward into his arms and rest her head on his shoulder.
"Well?"
"I wasn't sure you'd want us to come now."
He reached out, taking her hands in both of his. "Sugar, if that isn't the silliest thing I ever heard, I don't know what is."
His warmth flowed along her skin.
"Come on," he teased. "You know we're friends, no matter where we are."
She did know that, didn't she? "Okay. Christmas Eve with the Caldwells it is."
The whole downstairs of the inn overflowed with Caldwells sisters, brothers, cousins. And kids, running around, dodging between adults, filled with all the excitement of Christmas. His mother, Gran, and Miranda had filled countless trays with more food than anyone could possibly eat, but everyone who came through the door brought more. The air was filled with the mingled scents of pine, cookies, baked ham, roast turkey.
David spotted Kristie in the living room near the tree. She wasn't running, of course, but she seemed to be having a good time. Sammy, bless his good heart, was sitting on the rug playing a game with her.
When David had lifted her up to hang her sand dollar on the tree, she'd put her arms around his neck and squeezed. He'd felt as if she was squeezing his heart.
He'd managed to put himself in a position so he could see Ally wherever she moved. Right now she was helping his sister arrange cookies on a platter. Their heads were together, and they were laughing.
In a few days she'd be gone. She and Kristie would go back out of his life as suddenly as they'd appeared, and he might never see them again.
There's nothing you can do, he told himself. Ally's changed. She's not the girl you remember.
Had she changed? Maybe. Or maybe he was being a coward.
He'd given her every reason she should stay on the island. Except the real one.
Don't go. Stay with me. I love you.
He couldn't say that to her. She hadn't given him any indication that she would welcome it.
Except for the kiss. That had been real.
It wasn't very practical of him, falling in love on the basis of one kiss.
But it hadn't just been one kiss it had been a lifetime of knowing her.
And she already thought he wasn't very practical.
His gaze found her again. Now she stood in the archway, chatting with his grandmother. As if she felt his gaze, she looked up at him. Her eyes, wide and startled, were the eyes of the girl he'd known.
Ally was actually the one person who might understand if he came right out with what was in his heart. They'd always been able to speak to each other heart to heart, without worrying about what they should say or how it would sound.
He'd tell her. He owed it to both of them to say it at least once before she left.
He shoved away from the mantel he'd been leaning against. It shouldn't be hard to detach her from Gran. Gran always had a sixth sense about things like that.
He'd taken one step toward her when he heard a clatter, a crash, and a cry. He spun around, searching automatically for Kristie.
One of the running children had bumped into the Christmas tree. Kristie stood, hands pressed against her lips, eyes desolate. Her sand dollar lay shattered on the floor.
Allison would have recognized that cry anywhere. Kristie. She turned toward the living room, gaze searching for her daughter.
She was all right. At least, she didn't seem to be hurt. Allison hurried across the room toward the tree, weaving through the running children.
David had reached Kristie first. He knelt next to her, drawing her into the circle of his arms. Allison was caught by the tender expression on his face and by the way her daughter leaned against him.
She vaguely heard Miranda shepherding the other children into the dining room. The room grew quiet around them, and she moved closer to David and Kristie.
"I know," David's soft drawl was even softer than usual. "I know how disappointed you are, sugar. It was a beautiful ornament, and you made it yourself."
Kristie sniffled. "You gave me the shell. I wanted it to be on your tree forever and ever, so you wouldn't forget me."
Allison tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn't work. David had been more of a father to Kristie in one week than Richard had in her whole life.
"Honey, I couldn't forget you." David sounded as if he had trouble with his throat, too. "No matter how far away you go, I could never, ever, forget you. We're friends for always. And I'll find you another sand dollar. Promise."
Kristie wiped tears with the back of her hand. "It won't be the same." She looked down at the shattered shell.
David held her closer. "You remember the story I told you about why we use the sand dollar for Christmas?"
"Because it has the poinsettia on it."
"That's right. But there's something else I didn't tell you." He leaned over the broken shell, pointing. "See those five white things that came out of the shell?"
Kristie nodded. "They look like little birds."
"That's what they are. There are five tiny doves inside each sand dollar, and when it's broken, they go free."
Allison knelt next to them carefully, as if the moment might shatter like the shell. "That's a beautiful story, isn't it, Kristie?"
Her daughter nodded slowly, as if unwilling to give up her sorrow. "I guess so." She leaned closer. "They really are like little doves."
Free. The thought confused Allison. They're free.
Kristie's smile flickered, lighting her face. "Can I get Sammy and show him?"
David tousled her hair. "Sure thing."
Kristie hurried toward the other room, her brace thumping.
Allison's vision blurred with the tears she hadn't wanted her daughter to see. Oddly enough, she could still make out the doves, flying free. They gave her an odd sensation, the way she'd felt when she'd watched the dolphins arcing through the waves.
She'd asked for a sign, hadn't she?
David saw the tears on Allison's cheeks. He caught her hands, drawing her to her feet, wanting to wipe away the tears and not quite daring to.
"She's going to be all right."
"Thanks to you."
It looked as if he had the chance he'd wanted. "Can we talk?"
She nodded. "There's something I need to tell you."
Kristie was coming back into the living room, accompanied by a flood of kids who slowed their steps to hers.
"Looks like privacy's going to be in short supply in here." David nodded toward the door. "Let's step out onto the porch."
The wraparound porch was dim and cool. Out in the darkness, the Christmas lights strung on the boats reflected the stars. This was Christmas for him not sleigh bells and snow, but lights shimmering on the water.
He turned to Ally. "You said you wanted to tell me something." Whatever it was, he couldn't let it deter him from telling her how he felt.
"I couldn't get away from what you said yesterday." She looked at him, her eyes troubled. "I kept thinking about it all day. That I was turning myself into someone like Richard."
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Yes, you should." She hesitated, and he heard the whisper of her breath. "I'd begun to see that the life I had with Richard wasn't right, even before Kristie. But I intended to hold our marriage together. I was devastated when it broke apart."
The Ally he remembered didn't give up once she'd started something. "It wasn't your fault."
"No. But I didn't realize until you said what you did. I've been trying to rebuild that same world for Kristie, even though it was never what I wanted. I didn't realize I could be free. I could create a different life for us."
Like the doves. Freed by breaking.
She drew a shuddering breath. "I'm not taking the job. It wouldn't be fair to Kristie. I need to get her through the surgery before I do anything. Then we'll see."
That was his cue, wasn't it? He took her hands.
"Don't go away, Allison. You belong here. Stay." He breathed a silent prayer. "I love you. No pressure. I know you're not going to rush into anything. You have Kristie to consider. But I love you. Both of you. And I'll wait as long as I have to."
She tilted her head back, her hair flowing over her shoulders. The starlight seemed to be reflected in her eyes.
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled. "You don't have to wait." She lifted her face for his kiss.
He had his angel-girl back to stay.
The End