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‘Not everyone is like you, Carrie. Not everyone is compassionate and willing to forgive.’
‘If your aunt didn’t want you there she wouldn’t have called. That was her telling you that she loves you and is there for you. Family is important, Damon. You have people who love you. Don’t shut them out. And if not for yourself, do it for our child. Because he or she deserves to have family and love in its life.’
He looked away, but she knew he was thinking. Considering.
‘Would you come with me?’ he asked.
Carrie hesitated. Having trained himself to rely on only himself, Damon asking for her support was monumental, but as much as Carrie wanted to help him reconnect with his family, she was wary.
‘Is that such a good idea? Me with your father’s family?’
Nerves rattled beneath her skin at the thought. She didn’t think anything could be as bad as Damon’s reaction to her identity, but walking into a room where every single person had lost a cherished family member because of actions kick-started by her father would be unpleasant.
She would beSterling Randolph’s daughteronce again.
‘You’d have nothing to fear from anyone in that house tonight,’ he promised.
The weight in her stomach lessened only slightly, but she smiled anyway. ‘Of course I’ll go with you.’
The truth was, she realised in that moment, she would go anywhere with him that he asked her to. Any time he asked. Even if it meant facing her own fears and experiencing discomfort.
Because supporting him was more important.
It was a depth of feeling that scared her, because whenever she had allowed herself to feel with such ardency in the past, her heart and her spirit had been crushed. And, with the way her feelings for Damon grew so rapidly each day, any damage to her heart by him could prove irreparable.
Damon had been right when he’d said she had nothing to fear from his family.
Everyone was warm and welcoming from the moment she walked through the door. If they were surprised that she, of all the women in the world, was accompanying Damon, they didn’t show it.
She was ushered inside, the strawberry shortcake she had made especially for the dinner was gushed over and added to the waiting table of culinary treats, and her bakery business was queried with immense interest. Immediately put at ease, she transferred her attention to Damon, watching his interactions.
He was tentative at first, falling into what she imagined was his usual pattern of holding himself back and keeping everyone at a distance, but eventually he grew easier, laughing fondly with his cousin Noah and reliving long-ago boyhood exploits. And in watching his family, Carrie saw her words had been right. They were delighted to have him there and to have more of him than he’d previously been willing to share.
Happiness warmed her insides. Knowing how tough it must be to face that fear of loving and losing, she couldn’t be more in awe of him for attempting to break the habits engraved in him over a lifetime.
After dinner, when the family had dispersed to different areas of the house, Carrie found herself admiring the display of family photographs on a sideboard in the large hall. In a gold frame was a picture of Damon and Noah, young and tanned, heads pressed together, smiling at the camera with such joy and the lightness that Carrie now knew Damon had lost when he’d lost his father. Then her gaze snagged on a different photo at the back of the display—a photo boasting a face that was easily recognisable: Jacob Meyer.
As she took in the lively eyes, bright smile and broad shoulders, the lump growing in her throat felt as if it was wrapped in barbed wire. Standing in front of him, with his father’s arms loosely draped around him, was a young Damon.
‘Damon’s quite like him, don’t you think?’
Carrie jolted. She hadn’t heard his Aunt Bree approach, and to be caught red-handed, holding the picture of Jacob... ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...’
‘It’s fine.’ Bree offered her a reassuring smile. ‘You’re only looking at the photographs. It’s why I have them out.’ She picked up the frame Carrie had set down in a panic, looked at it lovingly.
‘You must miss him terribly.’
‘I do. He was a good brother.’
‘I’m sorry for what happened to him...for the part my father played.’
‘Thank you.’ Bree touched a hand to her arm. ‘Although you have nothing to apologise for—you were a little girl. And your father—whatever part he played—didn’t pull the trigger. It was a tragedy, and no one suffered for it more than him.’ She stared intently at the snapshot of Damon. ‘It’s wonderful to see him finding some happiness at last—to see him letting himself be happy’
‘I want him to be happy,’ Carrie heard herself say, unsure why the subject of his happiness brought such sadness crashing down on her.
He had opened up to her and let her in, but there was still so much she didn’t know, and the future seemed so unclear. Was Damon really ready to let go of the past and the animosity he carried because of it? Would he be able to regain the spirt of that laughing, carefree boy in the photograph? Would he ever fully open his heart?
And was Carrie risking her own heart by opening it to him?
