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She stole a quick look at him, curious to gauge his reaction.
“Logical? Since when has art been logical? You used to say it was primal.”
Silence hovered in the air between them. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Tate’s question. Or had it been a dig? Was he making some negative statement about her career? Or was she being paranoid? At the moment she couldn’t even think straight. Being in such close confines with him was doing strange things to her insides. Her heart was beating a fast rhythm within her chest while butterflies were fluttering in her belly.
“You’re right. My relationship to art is very primal. I suppose over the years I’ve learned to be more practical about it. It’s a business after all.” She’d learned that lesson shortly after graduating from art school and searching for an art position that would provide her with a decent income. Although it had been her dream to work with children, circumstances had forced her to alter that dream in order to keep a roof over her head. But that dream had never died. It still lingered in her heart.
“As long as you’re happy,” he responded in a low voice.
Happy? It had been a long time since she’d considered her own happiness. Did her life in Phoenix bring her joy? Yes, at times it did. She had her gallery, a group of close friends, loyal patrons and her artwork. But there was still a gaping void in her life she’d never been able to fill.
She turned tow
ard him, admiring the strong tilt of his jaw and the masculine beauty of his face in profile. There was so much she wanted to tell him about her life and the path she’d been walking on for the past eight years. But the gap between them was too wide. They no longer had the type of relationship where such intimacies were shared.
“I still want to teach kids how to paint,” she explained, her voice sounding defensive to her own ears. “I just haven’t put the pieces together and figured out how to make that happen.”
“You will.” The simplicity of his words touched her in a place that hadn’t been breached in a very long time. He believed in her. Still, after everything that had come to pass between them. She felt a pang of longing so sharp it almost made her cry out. This is why she’d loved him. This is why she’d known at eighteen years old that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. This is why she still hadn’t been able to forget him and move past what they’d shared.
She shifted her body away from him and stared out the window, willing away the tears that she was holding at bay.
As Tate drove down Magnolia Drive, the street she grew up on, a feeling of nostalgia swept over her. So many memories were created on this very street—setting up lemonade stands with Regina and Jenna, selling Girl Scout cookies door to door with Holly and riding her bicycle with the neighborhood kids until night crept in and stamped out the sun. The street was still as impeccable as ever. A few things have changed, she realized, as she spotted a twentysomething couple pushing a stroller, as well as new construction under way on an older ranch-style home.
Tate came to a stop in front of her parents’ house. She let out a sharp intake of breath as she laid eyes on her childhood home. The white Victorian with the wraparound porch and the sea blue shutters looked exactly the same as when she’d left West Falls.
“Are you okay?” Tate reached out and placed his hand on hers. “It’s been a while since you’ve been back home. You’re bound to feel some kind of way about it.” His voice had softened, and although she longed to lean into his strong shoulders and rest her head there, she knew those days were over.
“It’s a little overwhelming,” she admitted. “But I feel fine. This is going to sound crazy, but it almost feels as if time stood still while I’ve been gone. I suppose that’s the beauty of having a place to call home. It seems like it was just yesterday that I was here, running out the front door to meet up with you or scrambling to get to school on time. I can’t believe it’s been so long.” She did her best to keep her voice steady and calm as the memories washed over her. Tears pooled in her eyes as she gazed at the place where she’d grown up. Home.
“Eight years is a long time, Cass. Give yourself a chance to soak it all in.” His words were warm and encouraging, serving as a memory of everything she’d left behind. Hearth and home. The people who loved her. The life she could have had with Tate.
As she stepped from the car, Cassidy’s eyes were drawn to the maple tree—it was still standing in the side yard, majestic and strong. A strong memory tugged at her—climbing up this tree with Regina and Holly while Jenna stood on the ground and watched. It had always been her father’s favorite tree, while her mother had favored the birch tree in the back yard. A few flowers were in full bloom in the garden on the side of the house—vibrant bluebells and white roses.
Tate pulled her luggage from the car and deposited it next to the walkway. He walked over and joined her in the side yard where she was admiring the garden.
“You know, I used to think you had the perfect life. Your father was the pastor of the biggest church in town. Your Mama was so devoted to your family. She reminded me of one of those perfect TV moms. And you...” His voice hitched a little and a wistful look settled on his face. “You were everything. Cheerleader. Prettiest girl in town. Prom queen. Beloved by all.”
Cassidy shook her head, lightly fingering one of the roses. “It was never perfect. I know it may have looked that way, but there were a lot of cracks in the veneer. And then those cracks turned into major fissures.” She let out a huff of air. “Being the pastor’s daughter was exhausting. I loved being a member of the congregation, but everyone in town expected so much from me, including my father. There was so much pressure to be perfect. I had to wear the right thing, say the right thing, do the right thing. And when I fell from my pedestal....” Her voice got small and a tightness seized her chest as the painful memories washed over her. “Well, I fell pretty hard. I was the town pariah.”
Cassidy looked up at Tate, and their gazes locked. He clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes swirling with turbulent emotions. A heaviness lingered in the air between them.
“You should consider yourself fortunate that we didn’t get married. I doubt you would’ve made sheriff if you’d been married to me.” She tossed the words out in a flippant tone, desperate to mask the hurt and pain that he’d uncovered.
The hurt and pain, she’d long ago realized, was always there hovering beneath the surface, waiting to rise up at moments like this.
Tate’s expression turned dark, and he gritted his teeth. “Like I said before, becoming Sheriff wasn’t my only dream.” He took a step closer to her. “And for the record, I’ve never considered it a blessing that you didn’t want to marry me.”
Her eyes widened. “Tate! It wasn’t—”
The sound of a slamming car door interrupted them and drew their attention to a dark stylish vehicle parked in front of her parents’ house. For a brief moment she wondered if someone had stopped by after hearing of her return to town. She began to bite her lower lip. Perhaps it was someone who wanted to yell at her. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin a few inches higher and prepared herself for battle.
Lord, give me the grace and courage to greet my enemies with a smile.
A tall, broad-shouldered woman dressed in a red sundress came into view, a big bouquet of flowers cradled in her arms. With her brunette pixie hairstyle and round face, she was instantly recognizable from where Cassidy stood in the driveway. Although it had been years since she’d seen her cousin Regina, a sense of familiarity swept over her at the sight.
“This day just keeps getting better and better,” Cassidy muttered.
Tate raised an eyebrow. “I think I should stick around for this.” He edged a little closer to her so that their elbows were touching.
