Gwynne Forster - Swept Away

Schyler glanced first at his father, who was reaching for the dish of rice, and then at Veronica, who’d glued her gaze to their father. If they could get through the meal in peace, he’d be grateful.

“Have some rice,” Richard said to Veronica, as though he ate with her every day. “You can’t eat shish kebab without rice.”

Schyler thought his heart had stopped beating. Would she accept the dish his father held out to her?

“Nobody has to beg me to eat rice,” she said and held out her plate for him to serve her. “Saffron rice, at that. What kind of meat is it?”

He had to control his heavy release of breath or they would both know he’d feared her response.

Richard served her a large helping and laid two skewers of shish kebabs on it with pleasure so obvious that Schyler ached for him.

“It’s lean, tender pork, slices of sage sausage, mushrooms, onions and green peppers. And I marinated the meat in my special sauce all day.” He watched as she sampled it.

“Hmmm. This is fabulous.” A smile of pure contentment covered her face as she glanced up at her father. “I’m telling you, this is great.”

Schyler said a silent prayer of thanks, and he could see the hope written on his father’s face. He wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t move too fast or hope for too much. But how could he prick that fragile balloon of optimism? Veronica’s behavior was probably nothing more than good manners. The test was yet to come.

Veronica listened to the man she’d learned by age four to dislike say a prayer of thanks that he had been reunited with her, and she heard him express his hope and faith for a future in which she was a part. Her heart constricted at the sound of his words, and she’d never been more torn in her life. But when he passed her the rice, gazing into her eyes with a look that was part challenge and part prayer, he touched her deeply in an indefinable but life-giving spot. From the corner of her eye, she read on Schyler’s face a dread, even a fear that she would refuse the food her father held out to her. I’ve got decent manners, I’m hungry and I love rice, she told herself, handing him her plate.

And she was glad she did. She saw Schyler take a deep breath, close his eyes and let the air pour out of him. And for a second, Richard raised his eyes skyward before looking at her with a smile of delight on his face.

“You’re one terrific cook,” she told him and meant it.

“I like to cook,” he said, savoring morsels of meat and mushrooms. “That’s when I do my best thinking.” He glanced at his watch. “Schyler, it’s still light for another hour or so. Could you give her a tour of our little village? I’ll have the kitchen cleaned by the time you get back, and we can have dessert.”

Veronica looked at Schyler. “You don’t clean up when he cooks?” She shook her head. “Shame. Shame.”

Schyler’s eyebrows shot up with such speed that she knew she’d suggested the unthinkable. “Me? Clean up after he cooks? You’re joking. He cleans up his own mess, and when I cook, I do the same. Ready to go? The bay is spectacular about now.”

She settled into the passenger seat of Schyler’s cream-colored Buick Le Sabre, big and comfortable like the man who’s driving it, she found herself thinking. He backed out of the garage and headed for Front Street, and all she could see as he drove through the little village were white buildings.

“Is there an ordinance in this town that requires all the buildings to be white?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. This place is the bedrock of tradition, so it’s probably just copycatting. I think I’ll check that.”

“I can’t imagine growing up here, though I suspect it was more fun than where I lived, considering you’ve got the Chesapeake Bay at your doorstep.”

So she intended to keep their conversation impersonal, did she? All right. He was known for his patience. “The Seafarers Museum is our biggest attraction. Back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, this region was a pirate’s playground. They came to replenish their supplies and to ply their contraband goods. Of course, there was a great deal of legal trade as well. Spanish galleons used to take refuge in the bay from those powerful Atlantic storms. So we have a phenomenal cache of treasures from ships that were sunk in these parts. Maybe I’ll take you through the museum next time, but right now I want you to see the sunset over the bay.” He turned the car south, swung down Waters Edge to the bay and parked at the edge of the beach.

He looked down at her feet. “At least you’ve got on low-heeled shoes.”

He got out and headed around to her side of the car, but she opened the door before he reached it.

“Why didn’t I know you’d do that?” he asked.

She favored him with her sweetest smile. “Simple. Because you’re not omniscient. That’s supposed to be the Lord’s specialty.”

He stopped, stuck his hands in his pants pockets, emphasizing his broad chest and flat belly, rocked back on his heels and did what could only be described as a slow burn.

“I get angry about twice every couple of years, Veronica, but you’ve nearly shoved me to it twice this day. Try not to give vent to your sharp tongue and remind yourself what it feels like to hurt.” Before she could answer, he took her arm, walked along the narrow beach and paused. “Veronica Overton, the executive, is a far cry from the woman I’m looking at.”

She didn’t mind the comment; in a way, it was accurate. On the nose. “When I was that woman, I hadn’t skied the slopes of the Jungfraujoch, and I hadn’t hiked alone for miles over flower-strewn meadows in the lap of the Swiss Alps. Imagine being the only person for miles and miles around with God’s blue sky, towering white snow-capped mountains and flowers of every color for company. Not a puff of wind, and air as fresh as new life. It was truly a rebirth. So you’re right. I’m different, and I hope I stay that way. I’m not chasing fame or success, and I’m no longer hell-bent on becoming Secretary of Welfare. I don’t even give a snap about any of it. I’m myself. Free. I mean free!”

His stare didn’t make her uncomfortable, because she knew he was seeing her with new vision. “And you were yourself before,” she heard him say under the edge of his breath. He turned toward the water and stopped as though frozen in time. “Look! Would you just look at that?”

She followed his gaze to the long red rays that streaked across the rolling water, fanning out from the huge red globe that moved slowly downward against a navy blue and gray sky. At her gasp, he moved closer to her, and for the first time, the feel of his arm around her waist sent powerful shivers of sensual awareness plowing through her. Helpless to prevent her tremors and realizing that he was well aware of her reaction to his touch, she made herself look at him to brazen it out, as if trembling for him were of no consequence.

But he denied her that avenue of escape. “Months ago, when you were the consummate executive, I as much as told you we’d have to deal with this. Don’t count on its going away by itself and of its own accord. The chemistry between us is strong enough to cause an explosion, and nothing will make me believe you don’t know that.”

“I’m not going there right now, Schyler. That isn’t something that bears discussion.”

“Oh sure. If you talked about it, that would make it a fact,” he said. “Well, discuss it or not, whatever hooks men and women has its claws in us.” He laughed a deep tension releasing growl. “No point in worrying until it gets unruly.”

She stepped out of his encircling warmth and walked along beside him swinging her arms. The sun dipped into the Chesapeake Bay, and she couldn’t help reaching for him, clutching his sleeve.