Chapter One
The mid-afternoon light streamed through the stained glass, bathing everything before it in a bright and lively lemon yellow. With Maisey in her arms, Celia stood in front of the artistic whorled glass, tilting her head to gaze up at the piece that was twice as tall as she was. In the swirls of the abstract glass, she wondered if she could see something that made her think of water, of ripples beneath the surface.
Before she could grow too lost in her thoughts, her one-year-old daughter smacked her lightly on the arm with a chubby little hand, blowing a delighted raspberry as she did so, and Celia laughed.
“Not to your taste, is it, sweetie?” she asked. “Let’s see if we can find one that is.” The Eastwick Museum of the Arts was certainly a respectable organization, but the stained glass exhibit, which called in pieces from all over the United States, was quite a coup. As she wandered around a piece of glass in violets and reds and another that showed the various phases of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, Celia felt a pang of pride. She might have been young, and there might have been curators and administrators who thought she was a little too occupied with motherhood to bring this exhibit to fruition, but she was pleased to have proved them wrong.
In her long, light blue dress and with her blond hair twisted back in a careless knot, Celia didn’t look too different from the other women touring the opening of the stained glass exhibit. Even the peaceful baby in the sling across Celia’s chest didn’t make her stand out too much. Mostly, Celia thought, what separated her from the other women at the opening were the facts that she was young and that she didn’t have a man with her.
At twenty-two years old, she didn’t look all that different from when she was a teenager volunteering at the museum. She was still leggy, still more slender than what might have been attractive for a classic beauty. However, Celia knew with a quiet certainty that she was no where near as shy or nervous as she was when she was even a few years ago. She no longer stammered and laughed nervously when someone told a joke that she didn’t like. Instead, she was now able to look them in the eye and tell them to go to hell. Some people might have wondered where she got the nerve, but she knew exactly where she had gotten it from.
She glanced down at her daughter with a fond smile, brushing Maisey’s dark hair out of her eyes. Even if she was a little smaller than her age-mates, Maisey had a quickness and a liveliness to her that left Celia with no doubts that her little daughter was going to be fine. Her cap of dark curls was as thick and fluffy as lambswool, and Celia had the feeling that those vivid blue eyes weren’t going to dim to brown or even Celia’s own gray.
The thought of Maisey’s father made Celia’s eyes dim a little bit, but even that was better than it had been. These days, he was a scar that was mostly healed, and she knew that she and her daughter would be fine. She never thought of him during the day anymore, and she counted that as a success. Of course, nights were a different story. At night, she could still remember that velvet voice whispering in her ear, those strong arms around her. Some dreams died hard, she knew that. But at this point in time, she was wondering if some ever died at all.
Celia shook her head to clear them of thoughts of Maisey's father. Right now, this was her triumph. This exhibit was going to be a roaring success; everyone at the museum could tell. They would remember how much attention the stained glass exhibit had brought in, they would connect her name with it, and there would be bigger and better things waiting for them. She smiled when she saw Joyce come up. Joyce, a large woman with an eternal grin, a strong business acumen and a good eye for talent, had always been one of Celia’s primary supporters. Now when she walked up, there was a purpose to her step.
“There you are, Celia,” Joyce said, her voice round and kind. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“Is everything all right?” asked Celia, slightly startled. A quick look around told her that there was nothing out of place, and she couldn’t hear so much as a patron shouting, let alone the terrible shattering sound of breaking glass.
“Oh yes, yes—I just wanted to tell you to be on the look out for some of the prospective investors. They’re impressed with the exhibit, and I want to make sure that they know who’s responsible for it all. Oh, here are some now...”Celia smiled and shook hands with the men her boss introduced her to. More than one looked slightly askance at the inquisitive baby strapped to her chest, but she lifted her chin, more than prepared to brazen it. After all, it wasn’t like she didn’t have practice in doing so, after all.
When it became obvious that she was pregnant with a child, there had been plenty of tactless comments that, while perhaps well-intentioned, were all meant to push her towards adoption. She was alone, she was young, there were plenty of people who would give a little child a good home. Through it all, Celia sailed her ship with determination and purpose. Maisey might have been unplanned, but Celia was determined that her child would always know that she had been wanted, right from the very start.
Joyce and her investors drifted off again, reminding Celia to keep herself available. There was at least one other investor Joyce wanted her to meet. Celia smiled a little at her boss’s enthusiasm and wandered through the panes of glass. She stopped under one that was a sweet soft violet, and she examined her daughter under the light, even as her daughter examined her.
Maisey was a beautiful little girl, her eyes fringed by a wild profusion of dark lashes, her face perfectly round and soft. During the first few months, Celia found it hard to take her eyes off of her daughter. Maisey had to be some strange visitor from a distant land, surely not something that Celia was meant to keep and love forever.The love that she felt for her daughter was deep and profound. She knew it would last the rest of her life. The only time she had felt something like that before, she had been very much mistaken, but she knew that this time she couldn’t be.Maisey, for her part, had no interest in her mother’s musings. She contented herself with exploring her mother’s face with her soft hands, and Celia only stopped her when those fingers got too curious about her nose. Maisey made a soft frustrated sound of displeasure, and before it could become a wail, Celia jiggled her slightly. She watched with amusement as her daughter’s pout turned into a grin, and she shook her head.
“May you always be so easy to please,” she said. “But for now, let’s get some food.” She started to make her way to the food stations, but some eldritch sixth sense made her turn her head. Afterward, she was never quite sure what prompted her to look in that particular direction, but when she realized what, or more appropriately who she was looking at, she could feel the blood drain from her face.
Maisey squawked with displeasure, and Celia apologetically loosened her grip, which had suddenly gotten tight.
“Sorry, Mama’s sorry,” she murmured, dropping a gentle kiss on her daughter’s head. Her eyes flickered back and forth as the adrenaline hit her system. She was ready for fight or flight, and this time, flight won out.
I can get out of here fairly easily, she thought. All I need to do is to get to the west staircase, and from there, I can get to the parking lot. And then... well, I guess I’ll be at home, and I should not actually pack up everything and head for the hills, no matter what my heart says.
For a moment, though, she simply stopped and stared at the man that she hadn't seen for almost two years. James Casey was tall with features that were sharp and unexpectedly handsome. His black hair was swept back from his forehead, but she knew what it would look like soft and falling over his brow in the morning. That was how she had always liked it best. She couldn't see his eyes from this angle, but she knew that they would be a deep and piercing blue, the same blue that Maisey had. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he smiled at what one of the curators was saying, as charming and at his ease in the crowd as he had ever been.All right, I can do this.
Celia took a deep breath and started to move, edging towards the place where the crowd thinned out. Maisey made a soft whine of protest, as if she could tell that something was wrong from the way her mother held her.
Just stay still a little longer, just for a little bit, Celia thought frantically. I’m just going to get us home, baby.
Celia had just reached the edge of the crowd. She thought she was home free, and maybe in the morning she would laugh at herself. She would think that she was just a silly goose for behaving like this, even if it was James Casey, the man who had once turned her world upside down. From the safety of her own home she would laugh, and then maybe she would cry a little bit more, but that would be that.
She could almost feel the nubby texture of the throw that she threw over herself and Maisey when they were watching television, and then Joyce appeared right in her way.
“Oh there you are, finally! I've been looking all over for you,” said her boss with a smile. “Come on, Cinderella, there are still some important people for you to meet. This can really make a big difference in the things that you want to do here in the future, some come on.”Joyce ignored her employee’s protests, and finally, Celia sighed, squared her shoulders, and followed along. She composed her face to the practiced stillness that she had learned so well over the past few years, and stroked Maisey’s hair for comfort. As if she could sense her mother’s distress, Maisey reached up to touch Celia’s cheek gently.
Well, we’re both in this together, Celia thought, and she went to meet her fate.
***
James was pleased that the museum opening was likely going to be over by the time the sun set. There were many things that he thought might be interesting to do in Eastwick, a small but elegant seaside town on the coast of Maine, but being at a stained glass installation was not one of them. The glass itself was pretty enough, and his assistant swore that it was in his best interest to be seen in more wholesome environments. But right this moment, James was bored out of his mind. The idea of putting up with one more proposal for the arts from one more overly-enthusiastic small-town wannabe was tiring, and if he didn’t get out of the museum soon, James decided that he couldn’t be responsible for his actions.
One more, he thought to himself. Just one more chat, and I get to fly the coop without feeling guilty about it.
He turned as the museum contact came up to him with a beatific smile, a small woman in tow. James readied his most charming smile, because if he was going to try to get out of this place, he could at least do it while making a good impression. The first thing he realized was that the woman who was being pushed towards him like a virgin sacrifice was carrying, or more appropriately, wearing a baby. The second rather absent thought he had was that for a mother, the woman looked rather young and quite attractive. That wasn’t a thing he often considered when it came to mothers, so that was rare enough.
Then the penny dropped, and James had to stop himself from staring.
I know you, he thought, and it was like no time had passed at all. His body felt too warm, and there were instincts coursing through him that would be incredibly inappropriate to allow at a museum opening, let alone with a young mother carrying her child.
Celia Breeland still had large gray eyes that made him think of some kind of woodland nymph and a slight figure that seemed to beg to be taken into his arms. Her blond hair shone gold in the museum’s strong lights, and James felt a pulse of heat go through him.
“And of course, this is Celia, who was responsible for so much of what’s going on here tonight,” pronounced the woman who had brought her over. James didn’t know her name, but a small part of his brain told him that this random woman, all unknowing, had just changed the course of the night for him.
“And with her is our museum’s smallest member, Maisey.” James’s eyes dropped to the baby Celia was carrying, and there was no doubt left in his mind. The baby had black hair and piercing blue eyes, and James felt a shudder run through his entire body. His world felt as if it rocked on its axis, and somehow, he managed to nod.
“Actually, Celia and I have met before,” he managed, and the woman looked at him curiously. “At this very museum, in fact.”
Celia gave James a look that he was certain he had never seen before. He remembered her as a sunlight girl, all sweetness and summer wonder. Now there was a stoniness to her gaze that he would never have considered before.
“That was long ago,” Celia said, her voice polite but distant. “I’m surprised that Mr. Casey remembers it at all.”
She turned to the woman who had brought her here, and when James realized what she was saying, he nearly recoiled in shock.
“Joyce, I’m afraid that I do not feel very well. Do you mind if I leave? I really should be getting home.” The woman—Joyce—looked surprised. She was already nodding her assent when James stepped in.
“I’m afraid I’m going to need just a moment of your time, Celia,” he said, his voice brusque. “I can’t have you running off just yet.”
When it looked like Celia was going to protest, James took her by the elbow and her sharp gray eyes narrowed slightly. She could tell from his grip that he was not going to let go anytime soon. James met her gaze with a calm look, and from the angry resignation in Celia’s eyes, he could tell that she understood.
Celia realized that James was going to get his way. She could make a fuss about how tightly he was holding her and keeping her at the event, or she could go along with him and listen to what he had to say.
Joyce’s eyes traveled between the two of them, and to her credit, she gave James a rather suspicious look. Celia, however, only shook her head.
“That’s fine, I certainly don’t mind discussing some museum policies and prospects with you, Mr. Casey. Just as long as you understand that I cannot stay long.”
“I’m sure whatever time you are willing to give me will be enough,” he said, his own voice clipped. “Joyce, if you will excuse us.”
Without waiting to hear an answer from the other woman, he marched Celia to one of the small alcoves set along the main wall. These small alcoves served as miniature galleries on their own, but tonight they were mostly empty as the large pieces were out on the main floor. All that James cared about right this moment, however, was how empty they were.
The moment they were in relative seclusion James released Celia, eyes narrowed to see if she would try to escape. Instead, she simply straightened to her full height, meeting his eyes squarely with her own steely gaze.
“Well?” she asked, and he felt a lick of that famous Irish temper flicker through him.
“‘Well’?” he echoed. “Is that all you have to say to me?”
The glance she gave him was completely unashamed. “What else should I say to you? I think we have said all that we need to say to each other two years ago.” Unbidden, the memories of their last assignation came back to him, and James flinched slightly.
“God’s sake, Celia, stop and talk to me for a moment,” he said impatiently. “The child you are carrying alone...”
“The child that I carried for nine months, I carried alone,” she snapped. “The daughter who I brought into this world through eighteen hours of labor, I brought into this world alone. It is my name and my name only on the birth certificate, and that is final.”
To James’s shock, she spun on her heel and tried to walk away. Acting on instinct, he grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around. The sudden motion startled the little girl she was carrying, who sucked in her breath and let out a howl that was all out of proportion with her size. James pulled back in surprise, and Celia turned to him with a glare. Her anger would not have halted him, but the bright glimmer of tears in her eyes did.
“Leave me alone,” she snarled, a catch in her soft voice. “Leave us alone. You’ve done enough damage.”
“You must know that I can’t,” he said, and no one was more surprised than James when his voice came out soft, almost regretful.
Celia blinked at him for a moment, and after a brief internal debate with herself, she nodded. “All right. If you need to pursue this, if you find that you cannot go on with an explanation, you can call me tomorrow. Here.” She handed him a card. James glanced at it briefly, bemused to see that her position was listed as liaison. She had climbed in the world since he had last seen her.
“And you will answer?” he asked, aware of how skeptical he sounded. Seeing Celia and the dark-haired little girl she carried had awakened something in him, something he could only guess at. Now that he had seen the child, he was extremely reluctant to let her leave his sight.
Celia’s arms were wrapped protectively around her daughter, and she gave him a long look up and down. James felt as if his soul was being weighed, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he felt distinctly unworthy.
“Yes, I will,” she murmured. “But right now that’s all I’ll promise, so stop fishing.” It was thrown down like a challenge. James was not a man who was challenged often, and when he was, he tended to meet them with the full-bore aggression needed to compete in the business circles in which he traveled. He had faced off against some of the toughest challengers in his field. How they would have laughed to see a young woman, practically still a girl, staring him down.
“All right,” James said, and after another wary look, she slid past him. He watched her go, and his heart clenched at the peak of blue eyes that seemed focused on him over her shoulder.