The Promise of Rayne Read online

  He should have known a coward like Cal would never be the one to lead her into the light.

  “I’m sorry.” Two words perched atop an iceberg of unknowns.

  “For which part?” Rayne’s voice was pitched low. “Exposing us to Cal or for using the naive Shelby to take a shot at my family?”

  “You can’t actually believe that,” he said.

  “Why shouldn’t I? Weren’t you the one who said, ‘Opportunity is either sweat or sacrifice’? Which one was I?”

  “Neither,” he bit out.

  “Then tell me the truth—all of it. Tell me I didn’t lose the lodge over your brainwash—”

  “I’m not the one who’s been brainwashed!”

  “Clock’s ticking,” Gia blurted. “You have ninety seconds.”

  He quieted the fury inside him. “You heard it from his own mouth. Cal’s been lying to you for eighteen years, and he’s still lying.”

  “A common theme, it appears,” Gia said.

  He shot Gia a look. “I am nothing like that man.”

  “Then tell me.” The crack in Rayne’s voice tore through him as she reached for a handful of pictures and held them out. “Tell me what you know about my grandfather’s will. About the farm.”

  A cold dread washed over him. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t be responsible for devastating another person I love—and telling you like this, in this way, it would ruin Ford. Your uncle made certain of that the day William died. I’ve already said more, done more, than I should have—”

  “So this is about protecting Ford, then.” She pursed her lips, glanced at the ceiling.

  “Rayne.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “If the consequences were only mine to accept, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening right now. But they aren’t. If I break Ford’s confidence, if I break my promise to him, he could lose everything . . . and he’s already lost so much.”

  “And I haven’t?” Tears gleamed in her eyes and the ache in his chest intensified.

  “I know you may hate me for keeping my word, but not more than I’d hate myself for breaking it.” He stretched his hand out to her. “Please, come with me. Let me take you to him.”

  How many more times could Rayne clutch the hand of a dishonest man?

  She stared at the olive branch Levi extended, his eyes pleading with her to make a move, to take his hand, to trust him in all the ways her heart desired.

  But her heart was a fool. “No.”

  Gia belted out a ten-second countdown.

  “You’ll never find what you’re looking for in that box of old photographs. There aren’t any bread crumbs.”

  “Truth always leaves a trail.” A saying her grandfather had used when any of her cousins were caught in a fib or sneaking an extra cookie from Delia’s special stash. If there was a secret to be found, there would be a trail.

  “Time’s up,” Gia announced, slapping a hand to his back. “Hope that was as productive for you as it was for me.” She pointed to the darkened stairway.

  When he didn’t flinch at the curt dismissal, Rayne averted her eyes, silencing the part of herself that yearned to be held more than she yearned to be right.

  She locked her arms around her middle and denied herself another chance to fall prey to poor instinct.

  “Let’s go.” Gia nudged his shoulder. “I have Chinese takeout to pick up.”

  He turned to exit but stopped just shy of the doorway.

  The determination in his gaze made Rayne’s heart shiver.

  “Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me,” he said before Gia ushered him out of sight.

  Ready? The word mocked her. No part of her had felt ready since the day they’d struck a deal over a hundred and thirty-six jars of honey all those weeks ago. She had been too enraptured, too enamored, too completely enchanted by a man she couldn’t love, but did anyway.

  Tears she refused to cry burned at the base of her throat. But this wasn’t the time to weep over her losses, or return the phone calls from her father, or answer another round of go-nowhere questions from Gia. She fingered the photograph she’d discovered just seconds before Levi had entered and then tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans.

  She’d find the truth on her own.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “I wondered when you’d come.” Delia’s plump cheeks and cinnamon-swirl hair were easy to spot, even in the expiring daylight. She sat on her porch swing, looking out over her wilted garden. “Not even an extra watering a day can take the place of a good rainstorm.”

  Rayne lifted the toes of her sandals, unveiling a patch of crusty foliage, as Delia rose and waved her closer. “Let’s go inside. I have some lemonade and biscuits cooling.”

  With a nod, Rayne trailed after her, taking note of the tiny terra-cotta pots that lined the inside of every windowsill visible to the outside. It’d been years since Rayne had visited the rusty red bungalow. Years since she’d seen the seat-less antique bicycle perched against the siding, opposite the porch swing.

  She stepped inside the entryway, the smell of rosemary and thyme filling the air. Something succulent was cooking in the oven. “Looks the same in here. Smells the same too.” Rayne dragged her fingers along a ruffled throw pillow on the gingham sofa chair.

  “You know I don’t care much for change.”

  Rayne smiled at that. She did know. Delia’s no-nonsense personality and candor hadn’t lessened over time. She wheeled back the rolling dining-room chair and sat, the contents in her back pocket burning a hole in her conscience. “I found something.”

  “A pot of gold?” Delia carried two glasses filled to the brim with lemonade and placed them on a small oak table between them. Next came the warm biscuits.

  “Sorry. I’m still looking for that.” This was their way. Their casual avoidance of deeper issues with the distraction of food and drink. Working in a lodge full of prestigious world travelers and uptight political acquaintances had taught them the art of speaking in code, of saying much with very little.

  Delia lifted the glass to her mouth and drank deeply, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. The glass clinked against the wood. “I should have stopped him.”

  Rayne swiped at the droplets of rolling moisture on the bottom of her glass. “Levi’s a grown man. He made up his mind before he ever stepped foot into your kitchen.”

  “That’s not who I should have stopped.”

  Rayne washed the rising swell in her throat with another sip of the cool beverage and then set it back in the sweat ring. “There’s no stopping Cal.”

  With a slight jostle of her hand, Delia clacked the ice cubes in her lemonade together. “True, but no part of me believes you quit.”

  Quit? “That’s what he told you?”

  “It’s what he’s told everybody.”

  Rayne slumped against the back of the cushioned dining chair. “I was fired.”

  “I know it. Teddy knows it. Any of us who have half a brain know it. The day you’d quit your granddaddy’s lodge is the day apple pie can be harvested straight from an orchard.”

  Interesting choice of metaphor, since there was only one apple orchard in Shelby Falls.

  Rayne reached into her back pocket and slid the photograph across the table. Two people dancing clung to each other in an embrace that spoke as plainly as the tenderness in their expressions. The female’s face in the picture was smoother, her waistline narrower, her hair longer, but there was no mistaking the woman in the photograph.

  There was no mistaking the man either.

  “Where’s it from?” Rayne asked.

  “When’s it from is a better question. And the answer to that is a very, very long time ago.”

  “Why are you dancing with Ford?”

  It was Delia’s turn to slump against her chair and pick at her biscuit. “Stirring this up won’t help you.”

  “At this point, there’s not much more I can
lose.”

  Delia’s mouth soured into a frown. “There’s always more to lose where your uncle’s involved.”

  “Delia. Please. I need to understand what happened between Ford and my family. Was something going on between the two of you?”

  “We had a . . .” She stared off into the distance, as if she could travel through time with a single blink. “Connection.”

  “Did you love him?” The thought hardly felt plausible.

  The fog cleared from Delia’s gaze. “I never expected to win the affections of any man after I lost Phillip, especially since I couldn’t have children. People just aren’t that lucky twice in a lifetime. Only I was. Ford doted on me. He brought me gifts every time he came in from working William’s land or running an errand for him. Most the time he gave me flowers, but other times he’d bring me artifacts he’d dug up from the old logging road behind the property.” She pointed to a rusted coil nailed into a warped board on her coffee table. A glass tube had been placed in the center, the stems of flowers stuffed inside it as petals spilled over the rim. “He found that old bed spring there—probably dates back to the first Shelby homestead. He knew how much I loved my antiques.” She sighed and shook her head. “You don’t remember much about him, do you?” The trace of sadness in her voice rubbed at Rayne’s conscience.

  “I was young.” A cover for the memories she’d been forced to forget.

  “You used to think he hung the moon.”

  Rayne dismissed Delia’s sentiment immediately. “The only man I’ve ever thought that about was my grandfather.”

  Delia’s stubby fingernails pinged against her empty glass. “Yes, you two had a special relationship. He loved you dearly.” Delia gave a soft chuckle. “I witnessed many moments at the lodge after you moved in, and my favorite were the celebrations. I remember one quite well. Your seventh birthday. Do you remember it?”

  “Yes, I remember.” And where her own memory had faltered, her family had been sure to fill in the missing holes. This was one legendary tale she could recite by heart.

  “So you remember what he gave you?”

  “An apple tree. Grandpa helped me plant it on my birthday in the orchard.” They’d spent an entire afternoon together, planting and then painting a garden stone to lay beside it, the words Rayne’s Tree brushed in bright-purple paint.

  Pity overtook Delia’s face. “He did buy you the apple tree, but William couldn’t be at your party that day. He was with your grandma Betty. She’d fallen again, and he didn’t leave her hospital bedside for nearly a week.”

  “But how could that be? I remember him there. With me.” Rayne shook her head as the memory unfolded. “He was with me in the orchard. He gave me a pair of work gloves, and I told him I wanted to use my hands. I told him I didn’t care about dirt in my nails. And . . . and I told him that purple was my favorite color. We painted the garden stone and he complimented my sad attempt at cursive.”

  “No, child,” Delia said with a surrendered tone. “William wasn’t there.”

  Rayne’s mind trailed down a familiar rabbit hole until she slammed to a stop. Her discovery reared back.

  No. No. Delia had to be wrong.

  Rayne had pictured those strong hands around hers a thousand times. She’d heard his deep laugh and his careful guidance. She saw his eyes, their kind and thoughtful gaze—

  She gasped.

  Ford’s eyes.

  “No, but how could . . . no, why would Ford be in the orchard with me? He was just an employee.”

  “William took fondly to him after he hired him to work on the remodel, when Ford was in his early twenties. They were like-souls, the same way you and your granddaddy were.” Her eyes shaded. “Unfortunately, jealousy’s an ugly thing between men.”

  “Cal.” It wasn’t a question but a certainty.

  “Cal and William never got on too well, and Ford’s presence muddied the waters for sure. Cal wanted your grandfather’s influence to grow, to take the family further into politics. But with your grandmother’s mental faculties failing her, William was content to remain in our small town, make a permanent life for him and Betty in Shelby Falls, and watch his grandchildren grow up in the lodge of his ancestors.” She tapped her tongue against her teeth. “After William stepped down as governor, Cal blamed Ford’s influence for stunting the family’s political trajectory, even though William argued otherwise.” Delia sighed. “Cal moved to Southern California after their last blowup and didn’t come back again until your grandmother Betty passed away. Little did we know then that your grandfather would die shortly after.”

  Rayne pinched her brows together. “Cal was estranged from Granddaddy all that time? Living in California?”

  “Cal made a fortune in real estate. He backed your father financially, of course, perhaps because he felt Randall could do what William had failed to do for the Shelby name.”

  “But if Cal was so hung up on politics, then why didn’t he run for an election?”

  The crooked twist of Delia’s mouth made Rayne lean in. “Guess he was smart enough to realize that he had the backbone but not the charm.”

  “And what did Cal do after Granddaddy’s heart attack?”

  Rayne inched forward, and Delia braced the glass between her palms. “There was a meeting.”

  “I think I remember that. Gia and I were peeking down from our hiding spot at the top of the stairs while the adults met in the Great Room and Cal talked about Granddaddy’s estate.”

  “No, that was the family luncheon.” Delia exhaled through her nose. “The meeting I’m talking about happened the morning before, predawn. I was in the kitchen prepping food, when I saw them come in. Just Cal, your father, and Ford. They were in that study for hours.”

  The air felt too thin to breathe. “My father was there too?”

  A hard nod.

  “What happened in that meeting, Delia?”

  “Child, as far as anybody else is concerned, that meeting never happened. But after that morning, Ford Winslow was never allowed to step foot onto Shelby land again. When he showed up for the luncheon the next day, Tony cuffed him and led him away.” Delia clucked her tongue. “A disgraceful sight.”

  “Somebody has to know what was said in that office.”

  “Three somebodies know, but I’d bet my best cooking pans that nobody will ever speak of it. As far as the Shelbys are concerned, Ford Winslow is a crook.”

  Rayne pushed the question out her throat, her stomach churning. “You don’t believe that?”

  “I never have, not for a second, only, I was too much of a coward then to do what I finally had the courage to do today.”

  “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

  “I quit.”

  The sky split open. Bright veins of light pulsed in the distance beyond and thunder boomed, echoing throughout the valley. The rumble vibrated Rayne’s rib cage, but even still, the windshield and the gravel turnabout she’d parked in remained bone dry.

  She tapped the highlighted contact on her phone screen and exhaled.

  “Nice of you to return my call.” Her father’s greeting tugged at her insides, but for the first time in years, she hadn’t returned his phone call out of obligation or obedience; she’d made the call out of her own necessity.

  “It’s been a busy week,” she said. There was no pretending Cal hadn’t already filled him in on her every transgression. Fraternization with the dark side would not be easily overlooked.

  “So I’ve heard. I assume you’ve been staying with Gia?”

  Had he really left all those voicemails to ask her where she was staying? “For now, yes.” Though she hadn’t a clue what later held.

  She opened her mouth to—

  “I’ve been concerned about you, Rayne. Actually, Cal and I are both concerned.” Cal’s concern had kicked her to the curb with a two-hour notice. She dug her fingernails into the rubber grip of her steering wheel as he continued. “Despite your most recent lapse in ju
dgment, I’ve spent the better part of two days securing an opportunity for you.”

  She blinked twice, tiny black dots obstructing her vision as lightning flashed for a second time. “What kind of opportunity?”

  “Your dedication to public service while I visited the shelter last week was commendable.” His approving tone awakened a childish hope long ago buried. “Which is why I’d like for you to join me here in Boise. I’ve recently partnered with an advocacy group for underprivileged children. I’m offering you a position on the committee.”

  Not even in the furthest reaches of her imagination could she have concocted such an offer from her father. Move to Boise? Work alongside him? Partner with a children’s welfare group?

  “The position comes with a reasonable salary, but more than that, you could finally put that degree of yours in public relations to good use.”

  How many years had she longed for her father’s approval, for his eyes to see her, for his heart to understand her? She’d ached for his acceptance, support, and love, yet foreboding and dread swirled in the pit of her belly.

  “Wow . . . I’m definitely surprised,” was the only response she could muster.

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve had a break from the lodge.”

  As quickly as her lungs had filled, they deflated. “I’m not on a break. I was fired.”

  “I’m well aware of the circumstances of your dismissal, Rayne. Were you hoping to rehash your mistakes with me or look ahead to your future?”

  Once again, Cal had taken on the role of disciplinarian while her father managed the cleanup crew.

  She pinched her eyes closed and forced out the only question on her mind. “Who planted the apple tree with me on my seventh birthday, Dad?”

  Silence and then he said, “You know that story frontward and backward.”

  “Who, Dad?” The punch of her voice rivaled the clap of thunder above.