“You’re a sweetheart,” Willa replied, wishing she could explain things to him. “Listen, I’ll be here through the weekend, but I know I’ve got to move on to avoid the press. And I’ve got some personal things to take care of. So…you have my cell number. You can track me down if something urgent comes up. But, Samuel, I’d really appreciate it if you could just back off for a while.”
“Okay, all right. I’ve sent out a press release explaining why you had to pull out of the benefit show—exhaustion, fatigue, the usual. I only hope people don’t think—”
“That I’m sick, that I’m hooked on drugs or alcohol?” She shook her head even though Samuel couldn’t see her. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Yes, we know that, but you have to understand how the press takes these things. Just like that two-bit tabloid, they make up what they can’t prove.”
Willa closed her eyes, letting the tiredness wash over her. “Yes, I know. But I need some privacy. I need to work through this without the press hovering around. I’ll be in touch.”
With that, she hung up, then tossed the phone on a nearby white wicker table.
How could she ever explain this to anyone?
She thought of Lucas, remembering his gentle touch this morning as he’d doctored her bug bites. He was such a kind man. So different from any man she’d ever been involved with.
Was she becoming involved with Lucas Dorsette?
Willa closed her eyes, wondered how to pray. She’d never been taught how to talk to a higher source, had never been encouraged to attend church on a regular basis. Her parents, so aloof, so worldly, had been inclined to look on religious practices as something to be tolerated, something to be used when time and circumstances called for it. As far as she knew, they didn’t even attend church.
Then Willa thought of Lucas and his sisters, of Aunt Hilda and the Babineaux family. All so devout, all so sincere and secure in their faith.
Why did she feel so safe with them? With Lucas?
She didn’t want to depend on him. She’d always depended on herself. Knowing she’d been adopted caused her to put up a shield around herself—distancing her heart from the tormenting questions that had always haunted her.
Did her real mother love her? Had she been forced to give up her child? Did her adopted parents really love her, or had they only taken her in to put up a facade of being the perfect family?
Lucas had lost his parents so long ago. Her heart went out to him. How he and his sisters must have suffered. And yet they carried on. They believed God would show them the way.
She got up to stand at the intricate iron and wood railing, a railing that had been forged and created right here on this land long ago, according to Lacey.
Tradition. Heritage. Roots. Family.
Willa longed to have those things, not a nomadic facsimile. She was plain tired of running from the truth. And she knew that healthwise, her own time might be running out.
She closed her eyes again, tried to form the words to ask the God she didn’t really know or understand to help her find her path in life.
And then she opened her eyes and looked down to find Lucas standing under a great oak tree, staring at her. Her heart stopped, lifted out in the wind to fill with a great, heavy longing.
“You look like a princess in her tower, standing there, love,” he called to her.
Willa leaned over the balcony, waving at him. “Are you my prince, come to rescue me yet again?”
“I just might be, at that.” Then he lifted himself off the tree’s ancient trunk, his head tilted back as he smiled up at her. “Or maybe that should be the other way around. Maybe you’ve come to rescue me.”
Willa wondered what he meant by that statement. He did seem in need of some sort of emotional rescue. But at other times he seemed content, living here far from the madding crowd. She could almost be content here herself.
Except I can’t stay. Except you don’t know the truth about me.
She should have shouted those words at him.
But she didn’t.
Because it suddenly occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, Lucas did need a bit of nurturing companionship, at least. It couldn’t hurt to extend the hand of friendship.
If only she had the courage to offer it to him.
Willa wasn’t accustomed to rash, impulsive decisions. But something in the mid-morning air urged her to follow her heart just this once. Just for the time she had left here.
“Stay there, my prince,” she called, laughing. “I’m coming down from my tower.”
Lucas watched as she strolled down the garden path toward him, her smile as radiant as ever. Even if she did have shadows underneath those brilliant blue eyes.
He reached a hand out to her. “Did you get your business taken care of?”
“Yes and no.”
“And none of my concern, I suppose.”
She shook her head, causing her long ponytail to loop over one shoulder, which only made Lucas want to pull her hair out of its trendy barrette and pull it through his fingers. “No, it’s not that. I talked to my agent, and he’s fussing for me to come back to New York. Obligations and all of that.”
“Ah, obligations.” Lucas gave her a quick sideways glance as he tugged her down the path. “We do have to live up to those, don’t we?”
“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “But I told him I need a few more days here. I’m staying until Sunday, at least.”
“Or until the reporters return, at least.” He gave her a direct stare, watched as her skin blushed pink. Wondered just what was going through her mind.
“Well, I don’t want to involve you and your family in my crazy lifestyle. So, yes, if the reporters return, I’ll have to leave sooner.”
He tugged her close, bringing her around so he could hold her in his arms. “Then we’d best make good use of the time we have together. Are you afraid of flying?”
She looked puzzled, then amused. “I’ve flown in airplanes all over the world, Lucas. No, I don’t think I’m afraid of flying. In fact, it’s become a way of life.”
“Oh, really now?”
“Really.”
“But you’ve never flown with me, now, have you?”
“Well, no.” She grinned, then glanced around as they neared a large white barnlike building, where vehicles and yard equipment were kept. “And I don’t recall seeing a plane in the garage.”
“Come with me, then,” he said, coaxing her toward his Jeep. He had some obligations to fulfill, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come along with him.
“Lucas, last time I checked, that was an automobile, not an airplane,” she said, pointing toward the sleek black vehicle.
“Yep. That’s correct.” He opened the passenger side door and bowed gallantly. “Your carriage awaits, milady.” When she stood there, he said, “Last time I checked, the private airport on the other side of town had a pretty little single-engine top of the line Ag Cat with my name on it.”
“What’s an Ag Cat?”
“A crop-dusting plane.”
“You’re teasing, right?”
“Not at all. I do a little aerial application on the side. And a few loopty-loops when the mood hits me. Want to come along