And Grace realized that, in her embarrassment, she’d misjudged him. But not entirely because he wouldn’t have the album in his hand now if her gut instinct hadn’t trusted him all along.
She intended to make sure he never regretted letting her in. “And now your mother can’t see the things she loves.”
He shook his head. “Only shadows.”
If she hadn’t been looking, she’d have missed the flash of pain and regret that crossed his face.
“Ben, you need to remember life goes on for her in other ways. The things she keeps with her in here.” She tapped her chest, near her heart. “And here.” She pointed to her head. “Even if she never sees a sunset again, the memory will sustain her.”
His gaze locked with hers. Surprise registered first, then gratitude flickered in his eyes. “I should have kno
wn you’d understand.”
She reached for his hand. “I’m not sure why you thought I wouldn’t. While we’re on the subject of your mother, what happened to your father? I’ve never heard you mention him.”
“He was a good man. He died when I was eight. Heart attack,” he added, answering her unasked question.
“I’m sorry. And here I was complaining about my parents ignoring me. At least both of mine were there.”
A scowl creased his forehead. “Don’t apologize for being unhappy with the hand you were dealt. A child has a right to expect love and concern from their parents.” He squeezed her hand back, and she realized they weren’t only sharing stories, they were sharing comfort. And it felt good.
It had been too long since she’d had someone to just hold onto. When she was young, she’d always had Logan to comfort her when things got rough at home. Her poor brother had spent too many late nights massaging her forehead to alleviate pounding migraines thanks to the incessant arguments between her parents. The ones behind the walls, the ones they didn’t think anyone could hear. Because Montgomerys didn’t argue in public where everything was picture-perfect. But Grace had grown up and she hadn’t had anyone to lean on for too long.
Now she had Ben. She rested her head on his shoulder and warned herself not to get used to it, but her heart, beating hard against her chest, refused to face the truth right now. Until he walked out, he was hers.
“I’m not saying I had a perfect life, but you must think I’m pretty ridiculous. Talking about mansions and Porsches, servants and money while complaining in the same breath.” She paused and let out a long sigh. “As clichéd as it sounds, though, money can’t buy happiness.”
“I don’t think you’re ridiculous. I think you’ve had a long road toward growing up. But you’ve gotten there and you should be proud.” He paused. “And to think all the years I thought I had it rough… looks like I was lucky.” He flipped open the album cover, exposing her pictures to the light of day.
But embarrassment around Ben was no longer an issue, and as he perused her collection, Grace wasn’t worried about what he’d think or whether he’d approve.
She already knew. With Ben occupied, she pondered this last conversation and the realization sank in. He both liked and respected her. All of her, no secrets, no hiding, everything laid out for him to see. And he hadn’t belittled her. He’d praised her instead.
“What you just said? That means more than you’ll ever know,” she whispered.
* * *
Ben knew—more than he should about Grace and what made her tick. Not only what turned her on, but what motivated her actions. Looking at the pictures from the park—the children on the swings being pushed by their fathers, the kids with ice cream dripping down their faces and into a puddle on the floor, and finally, the mothers holding crying infants in their arms—Ben knew Grace was as traditional, sweet, and guileless as they came.
She wanted everything she’d been denied growing up. The loving family. He’d even go so far as to say she desired the white picket fence, the 2.5 kids, and the dog. And damned if he couldn’t imagine her with all of that and more.
But in the meantime, she was trying to make up for having so much wealth when others did not. She wasn’t handing out money but something far more precious. She was giving these hardworking people memories to cherish. The kind of loving memories she’d never had.
“Today’s Sunday.” Grace’s soft voice cut into Ben’s thoughts. “Will you be visiting your mother today?”
He met her clear-eyed gaze. “Yeah. Around four. I usually stay for dinner.” And damned if he didn’t want to bring her with him. But he wouldn’t. He’d only be setting Grace up for disappointment and pain later if he allowed her deeper into his personal life.
And there was his mother to consider—his feisty mother who wanted to see him married and had even resorted to pumping her elderly neighbors for information about their single daughters. No way could Ben bring a woman around. Her sight was gone, not her mind. She’d draw the right conclusions about Grace, and then Ben would have to explain why he’d had to let her go—and suffer a motherly lecture on his improper behavior.
He glanced down at a photo of a bright, sunny day, the park aglow with the faces of happy children. No hint of poverty or disillusionment in sight. “Amazing how different the park looks through your eyes.”
He met her gaze. Her face had flushed pink and she beamed with pride in her work. He looked back down and turned the next page. The setting had changed to shadows instead of sunlight, an alley instead of the park. “Like the picnics my mother took me on. I’d forget all the bad things that ever happened to us.”
Ben felt the same peace and contentment around Grace. Uncomfortable with the thought, he glanced down. She had focused in on one child with her zoom lens. She’d captured a wide-eyed imp waving for the camera with an obvious look of glee on his face as if she’d caught him being naughty and enjoying it.
But it was the flash of red in the background that caught Ben’s attention. He gently pried the photo out of its holder.
“What are you doing?” she asked.