Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [183]
“Jenny,” Trey said, coming to stand next to her, “I don’t really think what you did was so terrible. Sure you stretched the truth a bit, but under the circumstances that’s understandable.”
“But hardly commendable.”
Trey didn’t agree or disagree. “What you did was burden yourself. It seems to me these New York theater people must have holes in their heads not to realize how talented you are.”
This was what Jenny loved about home the most. When it came to talent, the good folks in Custer believed none had more than Jenny Lancaster.
“Those responsible for the theater in New York meet lots of talented men and women with big dreams and a lot of ambition. That was a difficult lesson for me to learn, and I suspect that in some ways I haven’t completely accepted it. I’m good, Trey, and I know it, but there are any number of equally talented people just waiting for their big break, the same way as me.”
The ferry docked and the passengers disembarked onto the island. Most everyone headed directly for the Ellis Island Immigration Museum.
“There’s something I want you to see first,” Jenny said, leading Trey toward the flagpole. A brass railing-like border ran the circumference of the island. Embossed in the polished metal were hundreds of names, a small representation of the thousands of immigrants who’d made their way to America between 1892 and 1924. The first time Jenny had visited, she’d walked around the entire island until she’d found what she was looking for.
“My great-grandfather’s name is listed here,” she told him excitedly. Her fingertips ran over the raised letters. Anton Hellmich. A sense of pride moved her to know that this man’s blood ran through her veins. “You can’t imagine how excited I was when I discovered this. I called my mother that very night.” She doubted that Trey understood what a rare thing it was for her to phone home. With her finances so tight, Jenny usually wrote letters and made up excuses why it was difficult for her to phone. Talking to her mother, hearing her father’s gruff, loving voice, increased her longing for home and her family all the more.
“Anton Hellmich,” Trey repeated slowly. He placed his callused hand on top of hers and laced their fingers together. His skin was rough and hard from the long hours he worked his spread. Her skin was silky smooth.
Once again Trey ran the thick pad of his index finger over the raised letters with her. His touch, so warm and caring, so gentle, was like a healing balm to her wounded pride.
Barely realizing what she was doing, Jenny turned so that she faced him. Before another moment passed, before her heart could beat again, Trey’s arms were clasped around her as he brought her into his arms.
She watched the transformation come over him, as if he were caught in some winless battle. The muscles in his jaw clenched. Then, moving slowly, as though hypnotized, he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips over hers, moist and warm, were as gentle as lambskin.
Jenny closed her eyes as tightly as she could, seeking to blot out the world and everything around them. Everything but Trey. For the first time since her arrival she didn’t want to be subjected to the sights and sounds of the New York waterfront. She didn’t want to hear the buzz of aircraft overhead. For this one moment she wanted to be as far away from other people as she could get.
Trey’s kiss was everything Jenny had ever dreamed, everything she could have anticipated. She trembled in his arms, needing his strength, his comfort, more than she’d ever needed anything in her life. She clung to him, not wanting him to let her go. Not ever.
Snuggling closer, she stood on the tips of her toes. Her breasts nuzzled his chest, and a new brand of sensations shot through her. Trey recognized the difference, and his tongue went in search of hers as the kiss deepened. By the time they broke apart, Jenny’s knees were weak. It didn’t seem possible that anything would feel