The High Price of Secrets(72)
Only time would tell.
* * *
Back at the house, Finn asked Tamsyn to move into his room and heaved a sigh of relief when she agreed. He might not be able to offer her what it was she wanted most, but he could openly give himself as much and as often as she’d have him.
Over the next two weeks, they settled into a pattern together, one interrupted only by her volunteer work in town. For the rest of the time, he’d invited her to help him with the early planning stages of the respite center.
Her experience at The Masters proved surprisingly useful as they discussed the construction and outfitting of the family chalets. Her work in restoring and converting the old laborers cottages on their family property into luxury accommodation gave her insights and ideas that he found integral moving forward.
They made a terrific team. So terrific that he could barely sleep at night, wondering when it was all going to fall apart. What would Tamsyn do when she found out the last secret—that Ellen had not chosen to bar Tamsyn’s access to her after all but was, instead, dying…and that he’d known it all along? Would she ever forgive him when the truth came out? Was there any way he could keep from losing her?
Christmas loomed in just ten days’ time. He’d half expected Tamsyn to at least want to head home for the holiday but she’d shown no inclination to want to be with her family. Instead, she’d teased him into buying a tall tree and festooned it with lights and decorations, some of which were ones his mother had carefully collected, spared in the house fire since they’d been stored in the detached garage.
He’d forgotten he had them, to be honest, until she’d started in about the tree. Decorating it with her had brought happier memories back to the surface in his heart. Memories of times with his parents when they looked forward to the festive season and made a huge fuss over him. Memories of Lorenzo, Ellen, Alexis and him sharing Christmas meals and the spirit of giving.
Each night he and Tamsyn had begun their own ritual, turning on the tree lights as soon as they finished their work, even though dark didn’t come until closer to eight-thirty in the evening. Before they prepared their evening meal together, they’d share a glass of wine and share stories as they sat by the tree, his peppered with vignettes of life with Ellen and Lorenzo, as well.
Tonight, though, she’d become quiet before eventually asking him to stop talking about Ellen.
“I’ll never find my peace with the fact she doesn’t want to know me if I’m constantly wishing for what I never had—for what she gave to you.”
Her words had cut him to the bone, scourging him anew with guilt. He wondered whether the gift he’d chosen for her for Christmas, the one he had yet to place under their tree, was still the right thing. A self-portrait, Ellen had done the painting about ten years ago. It was one of his favorite pictures of her and he’d believed Tamsyn would appreciate having it. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Would it just reinforce the loss she felt all over again?
He had quietly cursed Lorenzo’s dictates and his own promise to the man who’d raised him from adolescence into adulthood. But he’d held his tongue, and would keep his word to both Tamsyn and Lorenzo inasmuch as he was able.
One thing he knew above all others now, though. He loved Tamsyn. She’d inveigled her way into his life, but he’d welcomed her into his heart and his home, and now he never wanted her to leave. How they could work that out going into the weeks and months ahead was a problem.
Finn drifted to sleep no closer to finding an answer today than he’d been in all the days and nights before.