accommodating. I’m a bit distracted,” Lucien said in the way of an apology before he saw the man out. He closed his door and poured himself three fingers of Scotch. He wasn’t one for drinking during the day, but he needed a drink now. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize the gift that had been bestowed on him when Darcy arrived at St. Agnes. For those two years as he watched Sister Anne slowly lose her battle with cancer, he’d had Darcy. With everything that Sister Anne had been to him, it was Darcy who became his salvation.
Sixteen years earlier . . .
Lucien didn’t cry, hadn’t shed a tear in years, but he was damn close to it now. Sister Anne was dying. There weren’t even words to express the desolation that filled him. He wanted to rage at the world, but what was the point?
She moved so soundlessly that he didn’t hear her until she spoke from behind him. Darcy.
“I just heard about Sister Anne. I am so sorry, Lucien.”
He wasn’t able to answer and Darcy seemed to understand that when she continued. “A bird fell out of its nest once outside our building. The superintendent took it in, but he said he was too old to care for it. He asked if I would help and immediately I jumped at the opportunity. Every day I would visit, offering it food and company. It was so thin, you could see his bones and he had no feathers yet. He looked pathetic, but I loved that bird. For weeks I would run home from school and head straight to the super’s office to look after my little bird.
“One day, when I arrived, the box was empty. He told me the bird miraculously grew very strong and flew off. I wanted to believe that, but I knew he was only trying to make it easier for me. My bird had died, not because he wasn’t loved and offered the nourishment he needed, but because sometimes we can’t stop the inevitable. Though I was heartbroken, there was a large part of me that was grateful. For that short time in my life, I found a reason to get up in the morning. For those few weeks, I had a purpose and felt pride in what I was doing. Even losing my bird, I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything.”
She reached for Lucien’s hand. “You can’t stop what’s coming, but you were and are so lucky to have her in your life. We aren’t all that fortunate.”
Lucien lowered his head so she wouldn’t see the brightness of tears in his eyes.
She graciously changed the subject. “Join me for dinner?”
His head lifted and his gaze met hers. “Yeah.”
A slight smile touched her lips. “Don’t worry, Lucien. When you fall, I’ll be there.”
“Why?”
“Because you gave me a purpose again.”
He didn’t want charity and his voice reflected that. “And what purpose is that?”
“To make you happy—when you’re happy, so am I.”
Her answer rendered him speechless. And then she added with a grin, “Feeding you is a good place to start.”
And just like that, he lost a bit of his heart to her.
Lucien was holding his Scotch glass so tightly he feared he was going to shatter it. She’d left him. Not long after Sister Anne died, she’d abandoned him too. It was no wonder that he was so conflicted about having her back in his life. That one woman had the power to make him feel both profound joy and gut-wrenching agony. What the hell was he supposed to do about that?
For eighteen months Ember had been working in some capacity with Charles Michaels. This last year, Michaels had been mapping out the nuances of his campaign strategy to run against Nathaniel Carmichael, who had held the post of senator for three consecutive terms. It wasn’t just about the politics, but the need to make his name and face a household name. With the election in November, it was crunch time.
She might not like the man, but working with him for as long as she had, she’d learned he was an excellent politician. He stood behind what he believed in. She had to give him credit for that. He didn’t talk out of both sides of his mouth, and when he made commitments, he followed through. It was a damn shame he couldn’t have shown that kind of character when Trace and Chelsea were younger and had needed someone in their corner when