The Wedding Promise. Grace Green
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over-spilling tears. ‘Oh, I hate you,’ she sobbed. ‘I just hate you.’
She spun around and took off along the trail, back the way she’d come. Her sneakers kicked up spurts of dry dirt with each step, leaving faint dusty clouds in the air.
Logan stood, as if too stunned to move.
‘Go after her.’ Shakily, Sara folded her arms around herself. ‘Hurry.’
He jolted to life. Shoving his feet into his trainers, he fastened the laces, and grabbed his shirt. About to leave, he glanced at her, his eyes dark. Unhappy. ‘You’ll be OK?’
She nodded.
‘Sure?’
‘Go.’
After a brief hesitation, he did as she bade. He took off, fast, his steps thudding hard on the sun-baked trail.
Sara stood where she was till he was out of sight, and the sound of his steps had faded away.
Only then did she hitch her backpack more firmly over her shoulders, and start the long trek home.
‘Sweetie—’ Logan tapped on his daughter’s bedroom door ‘—you can’t stay locked in there for ever. And hey—’ he tried for a touch of humour ‘—I’m starving... it’s almost seven o’clock. What about that stir-fry you promised?’
No answer.
He muttered frustratedly under his breath. He’d soon caught up with Andy that afternoon, on the trail from the swimming hole, but she’d refused to listen to him. And when they’d reached the house she’d raced furiously upstairs and slammed the bedroom door in his face.
She hadn’t come out since, despite his repeated efforts to coax her to unlock the door.
He sighed, and was about to turn away, when he heard her call, sulkily, ‘The door’s not locked.’
It had been, earlier. His spirits rose a notch.
He opened the door and walked into the room.
She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with a book spread out on her lap.
She didn’t look up.
‘Let’s clear the air,’ he said quietly, and crossed to the cushioned wicker chair by the bed. He sat down, and grasped the curved arms of the chair. ‘Andy...?’
‘What?’ She still didn’t look up, but now he could see that her eyes were red-rimmed, the lids swollen. He resisted the urge to reach out to her. She wasn’t ready for that yet; her body was rigid with hostility, every taut line of her young face screamed defiance.
‘Have I ever lied to you?’
Her lower lip jutted out, and she shrugged.
‘Please answer me.’
She picked at a scab on her knee. ‘I guess not,’ she said sulkily.
‘Yes or no?’
‘No,’ she muttered.
‘OK.’ He relaxed—a little. ‘So here’s what happened. I went to the swimming hole, alone, expecting to be there alone. I didn’t see Mrs Wynter; she must have been sunning herself on the grass at the far side of the rock. At any rate, when I was in the water, she stole my shoes and shirt...but I spotted her. I chased after her, and grabbed her...’
Andy was looking at him now, her eyes gleaming. ‘She was going to make you walk home in your bare feet?’
‘Yeah.’
He could see she was trying not to smile. ‘Go on.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘what happened next...’ He cleared his throat.
‘The kiss.’
He met her gaze squarely. ‘That’s the hard part to explain. I was darned annoyed at her for disturbing my swim. I guess I wanted to...well, show her!’
‘Dad—’ Andy cupped her hands around her knees and fixed him with an oddly adult gaze ‘—I sometimes think you’re living in the Dark Ages. If you kissed Mrs Wynter against her will, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sue you for sexual harassment. That would teach you a lesson.’
She scrambled off the bed, and, tucking her arm through his, looked seriously up into his face. ‘But I don’t think she will. She probably wouldn’t want Zach Grant to know she’d been kissing anybody else. But the best thing would be for you to keep right away from her. Keep your distance, Dad. Play it safe.’
‘That’s very good advice,’ Logan muttered. ‘And I intend to follow it to the letter.’
Next morning, Sara woke around eight. She was in the kitchen, enjoying a mug of freshly brewed coffee at the kitchen table, when she heard the throb of an engine.
When she looked out of the window, she saw a luxurious silver craft coming alongside the jetty. Three people were on deck: a couple, and a fair-haired girl about Andy’s age.
A movement closer at hand drew her attention, and, turning her head, she saw Logan and his daughter walking down the beach. The teenager was wearing a backpack.
As Sara watched, the fair-haired girl leaped onto the dock and with a scream of excitement ran to greet Andy, squealing with surprise over Andy’s cropped hair. Logan, after pausing to exchange a few words with the girl, ambled on and stopped alongside the craft.
The adults chatted for a minute, and then the two girls boarded the vessel, but not before Andy had hugged Logan.
The morning was quiet, the kitchen window open, and she heard him call, ‘See y’all in a couple of days. Bye, Andy.’
‘Bye, Dad...’
It would. seem, Sara mused with a wry smile, that Andy had forgiven her father his trespasses of the previous day!
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