Page 48 of Kiss the Bride

Her heart skipped a beat. His admission raised a prickle of goose bumps along her arms. Much as she wanted to explore that feeling, she set the thought aside. “No problem, honest,” she hurried to assure him. “You had to clear the air with your dad. How’d it go?” She didn’t want to pry, but that was why he’d asked her out here, wasn’t it?

“Not exactly like I expected.” Ryan kicked a pebble and sent it skittering. “You know I’ve never considered myself much of a builder. A fixer, yeah. A finisher, sure. But creating something from the ground up—not so much. My dad, my brothers, they’re the builders.”

For a kid whose family was in the construction business, that had to sting. But Ryan was good with his hands, and she felt she had to point that out to him. “You’ve said that before. I didn’t understand it then any more than I do now. You’re really talented.” He’d rebuilt their old wooden fort practically from scratch, and it had weathered several fierce Nor’easters since then. Thanks to the work he’d done at the Captain’s Cottage, her family home looked better now than it ever had. To say nothing of how he’d taken the dilapidated Boat Works and turned it into a stunning wedding venue.

“I’m not half as good as my brothers. When we were kids, they made my efforts look sad by comparison.”

“Um, they’re older than you, aren’t they?” She couldn’t explain why she felt the need to defend him, even from himself, but she did.

“Tom was eight when Mom had me. Bruce was six.” He canted his head to look down at her. “I see where you’re going with this, and you’re right. It does explain a lot. I don’t know why I never saw it before tonight, but there you have it.”

“Have what?” She squinted up at him. He hadn’t explained anything.

“Yeah. I skipped a few parts, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” When Ryan laughed to himself, the sound triggered another round of goose bumps. “Hold up a sec,” she said and stopped to untie the sweatshirt from around her waist. She tugged it over her head. “Tell me everything. This time, don’t skimp on the details.”

“You’re sure? It might take a while.”

“Take your time. We’ve got all night.” She couldn’t think of a single place she’d rather be.

Against the darkening sky, she saw him shrug. “Okay, but remember, you asked for it.” He seemed to settle into himself as they resumed their walk. “It all started one Christmas when Santa brought birdhouse kits for the three of us. Dad made a big deal of our presents. He promised we’d all work on them together. I was five at the time, and I remember being so excited, ’cause I rarely got to do anything with my brothers.” He hesitated. “Well, that’s not right. We sat at church together on Sundays. Ate dinner as a family most nights. But Tom and Bruce hung out with their own friends. They played sports and went to school, things I was too young to do.”

When she felt Ryan’s eyes on her, she nodded. “I know how that feels. You and Jason went off together and left me alone a lot, too.”

Sympathy shadowed Ryan’s eyes. “I never thought of it that way, but yeah, I guess we did. I’m sorry.”

“Water under the bridge,” she quipped. Spending time on her own had encouraged her to become more independent. In the long run, that had been a good thing. “Go on.”

“O—kay.” Ryan’s gaze flickered. “About the birdhouses. This one Saturday morning, Dad set up a worktable in the basement, and we all got started. Of course, Tom and Bruce, they finished theirs by lunch and ran off to go ice skating, while I still had a long way to go. I could’ve given up. I wanted to. But I stuck with it.” He showed her that sheepish grin she was so fond of. “My dad called me a ‘stubborn little cuss.’ Mom had just called us all to dinner by the time I finished.” His smile faded. “My brothers’ birdhouses were all sharp angles and straight sides. Mine just kind of … drooped. It had this sloped porch. The walls were crooked,” he said, demonstrating with his hands. “There was a big gap along the roof seam. I was so disappointed that, if Dad hadn’t been watching, I would’ve smashed it to smithereens.”

“Awww. I wish I could’ve seen it. I bet it was precious.” She imagined Ryan as a little tyke, his head bent over the project. She bet he’d concentrated so hard he’d bit the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. She’d caught him doing exactly that a couple of times this week when he hadn’t thought anyone was watching.

“Oh, it’s still around. That was the worst part. Dad took all three birdhouses to his office. He made a special shelf for them over his desk. They’re still there.” Hair fell onto his forehead when he shook his head. He brushed it back with a sweep of one hand. “Gosh, did Tom and Bruce tease me about that or what. They still do. ‘He can’t drive a straight nail to save his life.’ ‘What’s that hole in the roof supposed to be—a skylight?’”

She’d never had a brother or a sister, but plenty of flower girls and ring bearers had trooped through the Captain’s Cottage. While each and every one of them could be so sweet it made her teeth ache, she’d seen a few get into it with a younger sibling. Kids could be brutal. The lucky ones had parents who looked out for them. She sought Ryan’s eyes in the fading light. “What’d your dad say?”

“Dad’s always been a man of few words. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Well, you tried, son. That’s the important thing. You tried.’ I might’ve only been five, but on some level, I knew I’d let him down. I’ve been a disappointment to him ever since.” He inhaled like he wanted to suck all the oxygen out of the air. “Or I thought I was. Until tonight.”

“What happened?” She kept the question simple, hoping she wouldn’t disrupt his thoughts.

Ryan’s footsteps stalled. She slowed, matching his stride. Up ahead, a chest-high rock wall prevented unwary cyclists from missing a sharp curve and plunging over the side and down the cliff. Ryan walked to the edge. He waited until he’d braced his elbows atop the rocks before he continued. “I told Dad I heard he’d paid for my Wedding-in-a-Week entry and asked him why he’d do such a thing, considering I’d never lived up to his expectations. He got the strangest expression on his face. Like he didn’t have the faintest idea what I was talking about. I told him he couldn’t deny it. I knew how he felt. I pointed to the birdhouses on the shelf behind his desk and said I knew mine was a constant reminder that I’d never be the builder he and my brothers were.”

“Oh, Ryan.” Her heart ached for him. She was only a little surprised by how much.

“He put his hand on my shoulder like he had all those years ago and said that wasn’t why he’d kept the birdhouses.” Ryan’s voice tightened. “He said he’d kept them as a daily reminder of how proud he was of all three of his sons.”

Tears stung her eyes. She longed to put her arms around him. “I guess you didn’t expect that,” she managed.

Ryan shook his head. “Not hardly. Could’ve blown me away like so much sawdust when he said it.”

When Ryan grew quiet, she nudged him. “And then?” She wasn’t about to let him stop now. There had to be more to the story.

“Dad pulled all three birdhouses down and sat them on this huge antique desk he keeps in his office. He picked up Tom’s and said it was the best of the lot, but he’d expected it to be, seeing as Tom was the oldest. Then he pointed out the deck and window boxes that none of the others had. He said Tom had always been the one to go above and beyond. Today, Dad counts on him to improve every house they build, to look for add-ons that make life better for their customers.” Ryan lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “He’s right, too. Tom’s the best salesman in the family. He has a knack for giving clients more than what they asked for but always what they wanted. He and Bruce go toe to toe over that sometimes.”

“Why’s that?” She thought she might have some idea.

“When Bruce built his birdhouse, he followed the directions to the letter. Not one shingle out of place. The door precisely where it was supposed to be. Dad said as soon as he’d seen it, he’d known the day would come when he could hand Bruce a set of plans and six months later, he’d deliver the exact house the customer had ordered, right down to the number of shelves in the linen closet.”

---