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turned to disbelief that anything in the last twenty-four hours had happened. Had he really come here to measure for a glass fixture and learned the story of his father? An incredible story and a sad one.
    What had his dad thought after leaving this place? Knowing the love of his life was here and what had happened to her yet powerless to do anything about it. He’d obviously tried to move on. His own life was the result. But his dad had failed in part, and his mom had paid the price.
    She was happy in her own way though, and intensely proud of him. She had friends and hobbies. She hoped to have grandchildren someday.
    He made a face. What would she think of Cerise? Given whom she was, would she accept her or would it be too painful?
    H e didn’t know the future, but he wanted Cerise in it. If he believed in fate, he’d say it was destined to be – him and her. He’d say what their parents endured was for their benefit, because they needed to find each other. And maybe, though chance and fortune weren’t part of his personal views, maybe in some small part that was still true. Maybe what had happened was for their benefit, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t have met her, and already, he couldn’t picture that.
    The snap of the lock preceded Cerise’s return to the room. Her pink skirt flared out behind her in the draft of her movements. Balancing a breakfast tray in her hands, she kicked the door closed and carried it over to the bed. “Sit up.”
    He did so, scooting upward and leaning on the rolled edge of the elaborately carved bed frame. She set the tray in his lap.
    “What’d I do to deserve this?” he asked.
    She smiled and turned the handle of a fork his direction. “You are so cute.”
    He gave a short laugh. “I’ll do cute more often if it earns me favors.”
    Her smile straightened then and her eyes became introspective.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    She rose from bed and made to turn, but stopped. “I brought you food because you haven’t much time.”
    “Much time?”
    She waved at the window. “The sun has returned. My grandmother wants to see you downstairs in half an hour.”
     

CHAPTER 6
     
    Andre Garner never ceased to take her breath away. His eyes were captivating, their clear blue depths as crystalline as the glass he was known for. But it was more than their color that held your gaze. It was the spark in them, some impertinent expression that dared you to find one flaw. She couldn’t. From every view, in every conversation, he’d shown a certain confidence, a manner that said he knew who he was and offered no apology.
    But without pride. He wasn’t conceited, simply sure of himself, making right choices because they were right. He was right to turn her away the night before. She would have regretted it, but not from a moral standpoint. She hadn’t his belief in abstinence. No, for her it would have been that he wasn’t strong enough to refuse her. Except he’d shown he was. He’d faced down the horrible story of her life and cared for her enough to deny himself anyway.
    Her heart beat tender in her ches t, every pulse squeezing tighter, forcing more and more of her breath out aching lungs until she was left a shell, her life minus Andre Garner nothingness.
    Yet he’d walk through those doors and be gone. He had no choice.
    Cerise clutched the staircase railing tighter and forced her feet downward. She couldn’t look back because he was standing there. She felt his presence as strong as the apparition that had visited his room last night.
    He hadn’t been scared of that either, but angry. Of even the spectral world, he demanded respect. Who did that? Who dared the devil to cross some line in the sand?
    Not her. She was weak. She catered to an old woman, whose mind was going, living a life of solitude she no longer wanted, in a house that held nothing but hatred and violence, all made darker by the brief light he’d given. She was weak. Like her mother unable to