Releasing Yesterday Page 6

  Rachel smirked, and Sara noticed that true amusement flashed in the beautiful woman’s green eyes. Her gaze flicked to her husband. “You owe me that charcoal.”

  Rob laughed, and the velvety baritone drew a smile. “Yes, yes, dearest one. Say, Chris, I don’t suppose any of these charcoals are for sale? Rachel made me promise I would do my best to purchase her the one of the child peeking into the garden. Says it reminds her of herself and April." Rob motioned to the wall on the north side of the dining hall. “I noticed the story-cycle you have here, so if you’d rather not break it up, I’m willing to purchase the entire set.”

  Sara softly gasped, embarrassment burning her cheeks as she tightened her hands on the punch tumbler.

  “Oh dear.” Rob’s gaze shifted from Sara to Christopher and back again. “I seem to have voiced a wrong request?”

  “No, you haven’t, Rob. I only don’t think she had decided whether or not to sell them. They tell—Is it fine for me to confess the story?”

  Sara wordlessly nodded, still noticing Rachel’s longer glances by the lifting of the hairs on the nape of her neck. In fact, Rachel Trent didn’t look away throughout the entire story of Sara’s journey from England. Though Robert asked the occasional question, and voiced the appropriate comment and encouragement, Rachel remained silent. If it hadn’t been for Sara’s history and her familiarity with being summed up by similar measuring glances, she would have been a bundle of nerves in the first few minutes.

  Then Christopher and Rob drifted off-tangent to talking of the proposed projects involving the children at the Richmond Gallery Lake and how they would so nicely pair with a proposed collection of historically-based field trips Rob and Rachel donated to the orphanage. That was when Rachel altered her scrutiny and Sara felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Would you care for a turn of the room, Miss Little?” Rachel asked, her low-soprano tone as lovely as it was terrifying.

  Sara glanced toward Christopher, noticing his deep involvement in conversation with Rob, and then tightened her hold onto her tumbler. “Yes. Of course." Sara didn’t understand why the prospect was so—

  “May I call you ‘Sara’?” After another sidelong examination, and before Sara could fully complete a thought, Rachel added, “Or would you prefer ‘Miss Little’, due to the fact I terrify you?”

  Sara paled, not sure if the lady was being mischievous or painfully sincere.

  “Ah. I see I was a bit too right that time." Rachel stopped, halting Sara with a gentle hold of her arm. “I apologize my intense nature. My training for business seems to have become second nature, though Robert and I have both attempted to soften it over these several years.”

  Blinking at the truly apologetic tone, Sara met Rachel’s emerald gaze. “Mum?”

  The small smile returned. “I won’t bore you with the details this evening, begging it off until we might share coffee, but suffice it to say the life I was trained for didn’t prepare me for the life I chose. Now I seek to ... repair broken bridges to a past girl I had forgotten existed." Rachel grimaced, but the action didn’t lessen her loveliness. “Dear Lord. That sounded a bit too melodramatic.”

  Sara recognized the shadow of a painful history in the woman's brilliant green eyes and felt her soul reach out to her. “No, mum, I understand." Had she not been suffering the same herself?

  Rachel regarded her for a long moment. “You do, don't you? Then I insist we set a date to exchange stories. Though I warn you, I’ve a competitive streak.”

  Sara laughed and accepted Rachel’s arm to fall into step beside her. "You will no' receive competition from me, mum. Even dear Christopher says I do no' fret over anything much at all."

  "Well, I think that highly unlikely. Consider how you fret yourself nearly to tears at the sight of his grief over Carla and the baby, but we will move beyond that subject in present company." She made a graceful wave of her black-lace fan as they mingled through the crowd to a quieter section of the gallery. "As to the charcoals, if you’ve no wish to sell them, I don’t at all blame you. Christopher has done superbly well in showing them to their utmost beauty.”

  Pride stained her cheeks crimson. "Thank you, mum."

  “When I first saw them, I could have sworn Christopher somehow persuaded April to part with her favorite sketches. April is my second child, currently studying art in London.” Rachel grimaced, though the twist of lips did nothing to detract from her delicate loveliness. “Good Lord. She’s turning seventeen the end of this year. I’ll need to remind Robert to plan a visit. And Rob Jr. will need to be contacted, he’s my eldest. He’s at Yale this year. Nineteen.”

  Sara blinked, eyes widening as she took in the youth of Rachel Trent’s face–she couldn’t be more than Christopher’s own age–while trying to reason how such a young woman had children of such advanced ages.

  Rachel suddenly laughed. “No one will believe I’ve three children, especially not when I confess their ages to be nineteen, seventeen, and Hank at seven years. I think of them all as my own, and thereby forget to inform that April and Rob Jr. are adopted.”

  “Oh how wonderfully lovely!”

  Rachel, still smiling, arched an eyebrow. “That I have patience for three children?”

  Giggling, Sara shook her head. “That you have a heart to adopt. So often the wee ones are forgotten and ushered to a distant corner, having no place to call home and no one to call family. What a blessing that you opened heart and home to two.”

  “I would adopt all, if Robert would allow it, but he informs me we’ve to wait at least a year before doing so. That man." Her wrist flicked her fan closed in a sharp motion, matching the mild irritation of her taut lips. "Robert is much too talented in the realm of finding homes for children. Not one child remains at the orphanage much longer than ten months.”

  “Oh, what a blessing! How I wish I had a gentleman like your Mr. Trent when in need of a family.”

  That drew Rachel’s attention. “Ah. So I was correct.”

  “Mum?”

  “You’ve been an orphan since the age of ... ten?”

  Sara’s face went blank moments before she almost absently corrected “Twelve.”

  Rachel hissed before admitting, “Rob Jr. was eleven when Robert led me to first meet him. I immediately fell in love with the boy." Then Rachel sighed and reached out to gently grip Sara’s upper arm. “I am sorry you did not have a ‘Robert’ to perform the same bit of leading for a waiting family.”

  Sara’s gaze lowered. “Thank you, mum, but I had my sweet Jesus. It was enough.” What other choice did she have, her mother gone and no knowledge of her father?

  “And now you’ve Christopher and his family.” Flushing deep, Sara inclined her head. Rachel gave her arm another pressure. “Congratulations, and I must say it’s about time. Christopher has waited too long to journey back from the grief, if anyone had bothered to ask my opinion, which they didn’t. Well do I know the taint and twist of the shadows of numbness and grief, and those aren’t for the like of Christopher Lake. You, on the other hand, seem to be a doorway back to the land of the living." She scoffed. “Good Lord. I’m full of prose this evening. Drat that Robert of mine for quoting poetry on the way here.”

  Sara couldn’t help but giggle.

  ~**~

  “You look better.”

  Christopher drew his focus back from Sara and Rachel Trent's somewhat deep conversation, Rachel leading Sara arm in arm. “Hm?”

  Rob’s smile twitched upward.

  A friend from his college days, Christopher still remembered the first day they met. Rob had stopped in Richmond with Rachel, still his fiancée at the time, to pick up a mutual friend and escort him to Charlottesville. Carla had been alive then, and Rachel looked to be a twin sister, so close were they in appearance.

  The quartet met at a restaurant quite by accident. That meeting led to a deeper friendship and a pairing of the gallery with their orphanages in Boston. Even going so far as to have Rob and Rac
hel become firm supporters of the gallery's mission to support struggling creative youths. In fact, Christopher and Carla had attended Rob and Rachel’s wedding and been present at the birth of their first son Henry, or Hank, named after her father.

  Now, Rob adjusted his hold on his flute of champagne and used it to motion toward Christopher. “I said you look better. True, I haven’t seen you since the funeral, but even then I could see the toll her death had taken. You had me worried there, old man. Rachel especially.”

  Absently nodding, Christopher allowed his focus to be drawn to Sara’s smiling face as she listened to Rachel. “I know.”

  Rob watched his expression a moment before adjusting his position to stand beside Christopher and follow his gaze. “A sensitive soul, that one. Reminds me of how I imagine Rachel before her schooling in France." Rob continued to examine Sara for a moment before focusing once again on Christopher. “Does she have family?”

  Christopher lowered his gaze to his punch tumbler. “Yes and no.”

  “Ah. A bit of a tale there, I am thinking. You sought them out, or they have discovered her I imagine? You have the tell-tale shadow of regret when results come slower than desired, or distress in that something is being left unresolved.”

  "She never knew her father, so I simply could not leave him to oblivion when she has grown into such a wonderful woman. I would want to know her fate if she were Gwyn. Wouldn't you?"

  “I see." Rob released a deep breath before gripping Christopher’s shoulder and drawing his gaze. “Should you require help, Chris, don’t hesitate to ask. You know Rachel and I are more than willing to do what is needed.”

  Christopher forced a smile. “I know, Rob, and thank you. I might take you up on that sooner than you like.”

  Rob’s lips twisted in a mischievous smirk as he gave another pressure to Christopher’s shoulder. “In thought to your feelings and to your recent venture past the grief, I’ll restrain any humorous comment.”

  Christopher chuckled. “Teddy will likely say it later anyway. You might as well say it first so I can tell him I’ve heard it before and ruin his moment.”

  Rob laughed. Then he motioned toward the pair of ladies, still smiling. “She’s lovely, and I see a definite resemblance in the silhouettes you showed me before. Damon and Teddy both were certain you knew the subject of those sketches, but you didn’t until recently, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Hm." Then Rob gave Christopher’s arm a nudge. “God certainly has a sense of mystery and drama in His blessings, doesn’t He?”

  “So I’ve noticed, and I wasn’t too thrilled.”

  “Only at first, I imagine. We always seem to fuss and fume ‘at first’. Then, when we see it isn’t as bad as we imagined, we grudgingly follow." Looking to Rachel just as she laughed, Rob’s smile softened. “And oh where the good Lord leads.”

  Christopher followed his gaze, focusing on the pair just as Sara sent him a glance. Her cheeks flushed as she lifted a hand and offered a timid wave, the lights twinkling on her engagement ring. Christopher released a soft breath, returning the wave with a simple lifting of hand.

  Rob chuckled. “Someone’s smitten.” Ears reddening, Christopher lowered his hand and looked away. Rob laughed and gave Christopher’s arm a somewhat playful punch. “I apologize, old man. I shouldn’t surrender to my twisted sense of humor. Rachel has noticed Hank picking up some of my bad habits. Though I still accuse Damon.”

  Christopher reluctantly chuckled, sending yet another glance toward Sara and meeting her lovely blue eyes. “I am indeed smitten, Rob." Sara looked away, focusing again on Rachel as Christopher continued to watch her. “This may be the reason it is so difficult to stand back as she is content to ignore the possibility of seeking out and repairing a relationship with an unknown father.”

  “Ah. Indeed, especially being a father yourself.”

  Christopher nodded. “But perhaps Father is right, and all she requires is time. Goodness knows we can keep her busy with teas, dinner parties, and art unveilings to pass the time before the wedding.”

  “Which is when you hope to have discovered a way to convince her of beginning a search, yes? " Rob absently nodded as he looked to his wife and his friend’s fiancée. “Hm. Yes. I think you might be right about that. She does seem a bit harried around the edges, though she hides it well." Rob motioned toward Christopher with his flute of champagne. “You know, old man, Rachel and I have been looking for a chance to spend a season or three here at her Brownstone. Hank wouldn’t mind at all the extended change in scenery, especially if Gwyn could be here, eventually, to keep him company." He smirked. “Chaperoning might be a fun adventure for us.”

  “I’m sure my parents would be more than willing to trade Hank for Sara, if you’re that eager. Mother mentioned how she misses the patter of feet around the halls.”

  “Then that is settled. Rachel has taken a liking to the girl, so she would more than likely have set up the adventure on the way home from this evening’s festivities. Now I can say that I thought of it first.”

  Christopher laughed. “You two have the oddest relationship.”

  “What? A bit of competition never hurt anyone.”

  “But you two compete in everything.”

  Giving a one-shouldered shrug, Rob looked to Rachel in time to meet her slight smirk and delicately arched eyebrow. “When competition makes green eyes glowing with a light that could start one thousand fires? Yes, old man, we compete in everything." His intense expression softened to a smile as he focused on Christopher. “Besides, it’s so much fun.”

  Christopher laughed again. “To each his own, I guess.”

  “You mean you and the lovely Sara Little don’t do the same?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “Intriguing concept.”

  “One that I prefer, Rob. Of course, I wouldn’t know how. It’s against my nature.”

  “Bah. Competition is easy. You’ve but to look for the opportunity to best her at something. A poem? A moving piece of art? A thoughtful gift? They can all be opportunities for competition, outdoing the other, et cetera.”

  One of Christopher’s eyebrows rose. He focused on his friend. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.”

  “Of course not!” Rob clapped Christopher on the back and cast him a wink. “And they love it.”

  “Thanks for the idea, Rob. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good for you, old man. Good for you. Ah. It looks as if my wife is returning with your lady of the hour. I believe I will take a turn or so around the room and recite some prose in a delicate ear.”

  Christopher chuckled as Rob lifted his champagne flute in a salute and then closed the distance toward his wife. When Sara once more stood at Christopher’s side, he smiled down at her, noticing how her features seemed more relaxed and her eyes brighter than before.

  “You like her." Sara nodded. “Rob asked if you would care to stay with them. What do you think? Would you mind switching places with their Hank?”

  “Would that be fine? I would love to meet him.”

  “All right then.” Christopher took her hand and kissed the knuckles. The Trents were a pleasant surprise, and it seemed you had a nice conversation with Rachel. I was a little concerned at first.”

  “Oh?”

  “She has a tendency toward ... assertiveness.”

  A smile melted the curiosity from her eyes. “Yes, but I was raised near woman more overbearing than she.”

  “Yes. I suppose you were." Though something inside nagged that Rachel Trent initially scared her more than she felt willing to confess, if only to prevent him from worrying.

  Sara’s smile softened as her gaze lowered to her clasped hands. “She has such a giving heart. A heart for children. A heart for her husband. There is so much love in her ... I am glad they will be staying in New York for a time.”

  “I am as well. Rob and Rachel are an ... interesting pair and I enjoy the inspirations they bring to mind, especiall
y when Rachel speaks on the subject of her children. Those of the orphanage, that is. Her eyes and face glow unlike many other women in my acquaintance, not that there are many. I wouldn't want you to grow jealous or threatened in any way."

  Christopher watched the laughter dance across her face and within her eyes, his chest tightening with all the desires and longings he had kept at bay for almost two years. He pressed his lips against the back of her hand, his gaze holding hers.

  Six

  Life Lessons

  Christopher glared at the telegram envelope, wondering if it contained seething words from Paul, Dix, or Roger at the unexpected and unexplained halt to the investigation. Perhaps all of the above? He scrubbed at the back of his neck, the accusation of being a coward tasting foul. He tugged open the envelope and blinked down at the words.

  Sara must return to England. STOP Inheritance requires physical presence. STOP Communication from mother included. STOP Please advise. STOP Paul

  The telegram fluttered to the desk, his unseeing gaze focused ahead. How could he possibly tell Sara they had to return to England because he acted outside her wishes and set Roger and Paul on the search for her father? Christopher groaned and grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

  "If this is a life lesson," he mumbled, "I beg to be let out of the end result."

  "Well, I must say this is not the expected reaction of an impromptu visit."

  Christopher sat upright, immediately setting to work straightening his hair as he stood and forced a smile. Robert Trent leaned nonchalant against the frame of the doorway into his small study which doubled as a sketching nook. "Ah, erm, good morning."

  "Indeed. I stopped by Lake House first, but they said you have been spending your nights here for some reason unbeknown to them. So, I thought I would stop by and make a nuisance of myself and leave Rachel with Sara." Rob lowered himself into the nearest chair as he regarded Christopher. "What seems to be the drama this morning? You mentioned a life lesson?"