Heart Of The Matter. Marta Perry
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there it was—the albatross that seemed to be hanging ’round all their necks these days. Ned Bodine, Granddad’s older brother. They’d none of them even known him, except Miz Callie. He’d left long ago, running off in 1942, never in touch with the family again. Every old-timer in the county believed he’d run out of cowardice, afraid to fight in the war.
Amanda’s cousin Georgia, the first one Miz Callie had trusted with her quest, had found out that what everyone believed wasn’t true. Instead, after a sad love story and a rift with his father, Ned had left the island to enlist under a false name.
And there the story ended, as far as they’d been able to discover. How could you trace an anonymous man who could have gone anywhere, used any name?
Miz Callie’s eyes grew suspiciously bright, and she patted Amanda’s cheek again, her hand gentle. “It’s all right, darlin’. You don’t need to say it. I guess it’s too much to hope for after all this time.”
Pain twisted her heart. “We won’t give up. There must be something else I can try.”
She glanced toward the deck where her cousin Georgia stood with her fiancé’s arm around her waist. Matt’s little girl, Lindsay, leaned against Georgia trustingly. Lucky Georgia. She’d not only found the first clues to what had happened to Ned—she’d found love in the process.
Miz Callie shook her head slowly. “Maybe it’s time to give up on learning anything more. The nature preserve is nearly ready to go. Maybe I’d best just make the announcement and be done with it.”
“But Miz Callie, the scandal…” She bit her lip. The family might be satisfied that Ned hadn’t been a coward, but they didn’t have the proof that would convince anyone else. Plenty of folks would be unhappy at Miz Callie’s plan to dedicate the nature preserve she planned for a small barrier island to a man they considered a disgrace to Charleston’s proud patriotic tradition. She had a vision of scores of military veterans marching down Meeting Street in protest. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard—they’d all had a presence here at one time or another.
“I reckon we can live down a scandal if we have to.” Miz Callie wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “I just want to get this done.”
“I know. But a little more time won’t hurt, will it?”
Please. They’d present a brave face to the world if it came to that. The family was agreed. But Miz Callie would be so hurt if folks she’d known all her life turned against her.
A fierce love burned in Amanda. She couldn’t let that happen.
“I’ll work on it. I promise.” She was the reporter in the family, after all. Finding out things was her job. At least it was more important than covering pet shows. “You’ll wait, right?” She looked pleadingly at her grandmother.
Miz Callie nodded. “I will. Don’t worry so much, darlin’. God will show us the way.”
She let out a relieved breath. She believed God would guide them, but she couldn’t help wanting to chart this course herself. “Good. I’ll…”
The sound of movement behind her stopped her words. She turned. Ross stood in the doorway. How long had he been there?
“I don’t want to take you away from your party, but I do need to get back to the office.”
“That’s all right,” she said quickly. “I’ll just get my things.”
Had he heard her conversation with Miz Callie or hadn’t he? It worried at her as she gathered her things. She had to say goodbye to everyone, had to endure all the teasing about being a year older and exchange a special hug with Annabel, aware all the time that her boss stood waiting.
Finally, she got out the door, walking to the car with Ross on her heels.
The air between them sizzled with more than the summer heat as she started the car and turned the air-conditioning on high. And that was her answer. He’d heard something of what Miz Callie said. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. It was just there, in his concentrated expression.
They passed the island’s park, the small collection of shops and restaurants, the old Gullah cemetery. Finally, as they approached the drawbridge that would take them off the island, she could stand it no longer.
“You heard what my grandmother said, didn’t you?”
If that sounded like an accusation—well, she guessed it was. She spared a fleeting thought for her fired colleagues. Maybe she’d soon be joining them.
Silence for a moment. She saw the movement of his head at the edge of her vision as he turned to look at her.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping, if that’s what you’re implying.” His tone was surprisingly even. “I realized that your grandmother was upset, so I didn’t come in. I’m not in the habit of listening in on the worries of elderly ladies.”
She wasn’t sure that she believed him. Still—
“You’d best not let her hear you call her elderly.” She managed an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I hate it when she gets upset.”
It was none of his business what Miz Callie had been upset about. Amanda had the sudden sense that the family skeleton had grown to an unmanageable size and was about to burst from its closet.
“You have a good heart.” He sounded almost surprised.
“I love her,” she said. “I’m sure you felt the same about your grandmother.”
He nodded, staring out the window at the marsh grasses and pluff mud.
There didn’t seem anywhere else to go with that conversation. She cleared her throat. “I hope meeting my people was helpful to you. For the articles, I mean.”
“Very. You’ll set up that appointment with your father as soon as possible.”
“Right.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced at him. “Don’t you want to talk to anyone else? My cousin Win is a rescue swimmer.”
She held out the prospect enticingly. Win, an outgoing charmer, would be delighted to be interviewed, and surely that would be more interesting to readers than Daddy’s desk job.
“What?” Her question seemed to have recalled Ross from some deep thought. “Yes, I suppose. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
Odd. Not her business, she guessed, how he approached the series of articles he said he was writing, but odd all the same.
She stole a sideways glance at him. His lean face seemed closed against the world, his eyes hooded and secretive.
Why? What made him so forbidding? The professional scandal they’d all heard of, or something more?
She gave herself a mental shake. This was the man who kept the entire news staff dangling over the abyss of unemployment. Maybe she felt a bit easier in his presence since this little expedition, but that didn’t mean she knew him.
Or that she could trust him any farther than she could throw him.
He was going to have to tread carefully with Amanda, Ross decided. Something had made her suspicious of him after that family party the previous day.
He stood back to let the high school student intern precede him into the newsroom, assessing the young woman as he did. Cyrus Mayhew had chosen the recipient of his journalism internship on the basis of her writing, not her personality.
C. J. Dillon was bright, no doubt about that. She was also edgy and more than a little wary.
Suspicious, like Amanda.
The new intern had no reason for her suspicion, other than maybe the natural caution of a young black woman from a tough inner-city school toward the establishment, represented at the moment by him.
Amanda, on the other hand…well, maybe she did