Promise Forever. Marta Perry

      “May I help you?” Miranda asked, shoving through the inn’s swinging door.

      The tall stranger turned slowly. Afternoon sunlight coming through the front screen door lit broad shoulders, dark hair and an expensive suit that was far too formal for the island. Then he faced her, and her heart stopped entirely.

      Tyler Winchester, the man she’d never expected to see again. The man who’d broken her eighteen-year-old heart when their marriage had dissolved.

      The man who’d never known he’d fathered a son.

      “Hello, Miranda. It’s been a long time.”

      His voice was deeper than she remembered. More confident.

      “Tyler.” Pain ripped through the numbness of shock when she said his name. She hadn’t said it aloud in years. How could two syllables have such power?

      MARTA PERRY

      wanted to be a writer from the moment she encountered Nancy Drew, at about age eight. She didn’t see publication of her stories until many years later, when she began writing children’s fiction for Sunday school papers while she was a church educational director. Although now retired from that position in order to write full-time, she continues playing an active part in her church and loves teaching a class of junior high Sunday school students.

      Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania but winters on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. She and her husband have three grown children and three grandchildren, and that area is the inspiration for the Caldwell clan stories. She loves hearing from readers and will be glad to send a signed bookplate on request. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

      Promise Forever

      Marta Perry

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.

      —Colossians 3:12

      This story is dedicated to my wonderful editor, Ann Leslie Tuttle, with gratitude.

       And, as always, to Brian.

      Dear Reader,

      I’m so glad you decided to read this book. The love story of Miranda and Tyler brings the Caldwell Kin stories to a close. I’ve loved writing this series on the power of family, and I hate to see it end. So this has been a bittersweet story for me to write.

      Maybe it was fitting that Miranda and Tyler’s story closes out the family series, because their story is a tale of a broken family brought back to wholeness through the power of God’s love. My prayer is that you’ve experienced that love in your own life.

      Please let me know how you liked this story. You can reach me c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

      Blessings,

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      Tyler Winchester ripped open the pale blue envelope that had arrived in the morning mail. A photograph fluttered onto the polished mahogany desktop. No letter, just a photograph of a young boy, standing in the shade of a sprawling live oak.

      He flipped it over. Two words had been scrawled on the back—two words that made his world shudder.

      Your son.

      For a moment he couldn’t react at all. He shot a glance toward the office doorway, where his younger brother was trying to talk his way past Tyler’s assistant. Turning his back on them, Tyler studied the envelope. Caldwell Cove. The envelope was postmarked Caldwell Cove, South Carolina.

      Something deep inside him began to crack painfully open. The child’s face in the picture was partly shadowed by the tree, but that didn’t really matter. He saw the resemblance anyway—the heart-shaped face, the pointed chin. Miranda.

      The boy was Miranda’s child, certainly. But his? How could that be? He’d have known. She’d have told him, wouldn’t she?

      The voices behind him faded into the dull murmur of ocean waves. A seabird called, and a slim figure came toward him from the water, green eyes laughing, bronze hair rippling over her shoulders.

      His jaw clenched. No. He’d closed off that part of himself a long time ago, sealing it securely. He wouldn’t let it break open.

      The truth was, he didn’t know what Miranda might do. It had been—what, eight years? He stared at the photo. The boy could be the right age.

      He spun around, the movement startling both his brother and his assistant into silence. Josh took advantage of the moment to move past Henry Carmichael’s bulk. He looked from Tyler’s face to the photo in his hand, gaze curious. “Is something wrong?”

      “Nothing.” Nothing that he wanted to confide in Josh, in any event. He slid the photograph into his pocket.

      “In that case…”

      “Not now.” He suspected he already knew what Josh wanted to talk about. Money. It was always money with Josh, just as it was with their mother and with the array of step and half siblings and relatives she’d brought into his life. The whole family saw Tyler as an inexhaustible account to fund their expensive tastes.

      You can’t count on anyone but yourself. His father’s harsh voice echoed in his mind. They all want something.

      “But Tyler,” Josh began.

      He shook his head, then looked at Henry. He could at least trust Henry to do what he was told without asking questions that Tyler had no intention of answering. “Have the jet ready for me in two hours. I’m flying to Savannah.”

      “Savannah?” Josh’s voice suggested it might as well be the moon. “What about the Warren situation? I thought you were too involved in that contract negotiation to think about anything else.”

      He spared a thought for the multimillion-dollar deal he’d been chasing for months. “I’ll be a phone call or a fax away. Henry will keep me posted on anything I need to know.”

      “Whatever you say.” Henry’s broad face was impassive as always. Henry was as unemotional as Tyler, which was probably why they worked so well together.

      Tyler crossed the room quickly, pausing to pull his camel-hair coat from the mahogany coatrack. It had been a raw, chilly March day in Baltimore, although Caldwell Cove would be something else.

      Again the image shimmered in his mind like a mirage. Surf. Sand. A laughing, sun-kissed face. His wife.

      They