In Name Only (A Pine Falls Novel Book 2)

by Jennifer Peel

“We don’t have to stay too long,” I conceded.

  He gave me a crooked grin.

  I flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror to see the damage Brock had done to my hair and makeup. I smoothed down my hair and applied a layer of gloss to my lips. “Does it look like we—”

  “Had amazing sex? Yes.”

  I playfully smacked his arm.

  “What? It’s not like they won’t know why we’re late.”

  “You’re not making me feel better.”

  “I’d be happy to make you feel better.” His sexy undertones weren’t lost on me.

  “I’m sure you would be, and I look forward to that . . . later.” I threw up the visor. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” He tugged on my arm. “I want to give you something.”

  My brow quirked.

  “Not that. Now who has the dirty mind?” He chuckled.

  I shifted my body toward him, giving him my full attention.

  “I planned on doing this in a more romantic setting, and before we made love for the first time, but you surprised me tonight.”

  My cheeks flushed. Not because I was embarrassed—because it was perfect.

  Brock reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet black box I’d been keeping in my nightstand drawer. “I hope you don’t mind; I took this back because I wanted to give it to you the right way. The way I should have a long time ago.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t mind at all.”

  With a smile, he opened the box, and there shone my ring, brighter than I remembered in the light of the lamppost.

  “Dani,” his voice broke with the sweetest emotion, “please be my wife.”

  “I am your wife.” I loved saying that.

  He carefully took the ring out and delicately slid it onto my finger before pulling it up to kiss it. “I love you.”

  I stared down at my ring. It felt so different from the one he had placed on my finger the day we had wed. Though it was smaller, there was no dollar amount high enough to explain how much it was worth. How much it meant to me. The only words I could think of were, “I love you.”

  “If you want, we can renew our vows. I want to give you the wedding you deserve.”

  “You know those kinds of things don’t matter to me.”

  “I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much. However, I do insist that I take you on a honeymoon.”

  “If you insist.” I grinned.

  “Turks and Caicos Islands for News Year’s sound good to you?”

  “Very good.” I kissed his lips.

  He rested his hand on my cheek. “I need to tell you something else before we go in.” His tone became more serious, making me anxious.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just Jonah called me earlier today and . . . Ariana is pregnant,” he said, gently.

  I blinked back the tears. I knew it shouldn’t, but it felt like a punch to my gut. I was happy for my sister, truly I was. But, it was a reminder of the pregnancy I’d lost.

  “Ariana has been afraid to tell you.”

  That made me feel worse. A few rogue tears escaped.

  Brock lovingly wiped them off my cheek. “I know this can’t be easy for you, and this in no way will ever replace Charlotte, but I want you to know that when you feel ready—physically and emotionally—I would love nothing more than to make a baby with you.”

  I rubbed my chest and the pearl necklace where it sat under my sweater. For some reason, I couldn’t go a day without wearing it. It was like an amulet, granting me comfort. “I’m happy for Ariana and Jonah,” I responded, numbly. “Any baby would be lucky to have them as parents.”

  “Dani,” he tenderly spoke my name. “Our babies will be lucky to call you Mommy.”

  “What if I never get pregnant again or I have another miscarriage?” It had been a constant worry ever since I’d lost the baby.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’ll adopt a dozen kids and become foster parents, like you’ve always wanted to.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You don’t mind if I want to help you save the world, do you?”

  That sounded like a dream to me. “Not at all.”

  “One kid at a time, right?”

  “Right,” I whispered.

  He kissed my nose. “Let’s go wish our best friends well. Then we’ll make plans for our own family, however that’s going to look.”

  I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked so tenderly.

  “Yes,” I answered honestly now that the initial shock had worn off. Ariana deserved my happiness. And I loved her for being so sensitive to my feelings, though I felt bad that she felt like she couldn’t tell me herself. I wondered how long she had been keeping it secret. I was going to find out and be there for her, the way she had always been there for me.

  Brock and I walked into Jonah and Ariana’s home, hand in hand, to the stares and poorly hidden snickers of our friends and family. Yes, we were late because we were having sex. Finally.

  Everyone was gathered around the large fresh-cut pine tree in the great room, already decorating it. I didn’t blame them for not waiting on us. We were quite late.

  I left Brock’s side and immediately went to Ariana, who was glowing more than the white Christmas lights strung around her tree. I put my arms around her, and she reciprocated with a fierce kind of hug. Without a word, she knew that I knew, and we both began to cry.

  “Congratulations,” I whispered in her ear.

  “Thank you.” She seemed reluctant.

  “I’m so happy for you.”

  She leaned away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to—”

  “I know.” I didn’t need her to explain. “When are you due?”

  She smiled and bit her lip. “July seventh.”

  “Perfect.”

  Jonah and Brock joined us, both looking tentative. Thankfully, Whitney saved the day. She wiggled her way between us. “I’m going to be a big sister.”

  I rested my hand on her head. “The best one ever.”

  Whitney held up her pink stained glass brontosaurus. Ariana had been working tirelessly on making custom ornaments for their tree. “Daddy, will you help me put this on the top?”

  “Absolutely.” Jonah picked her up with ease and helped her hang her ornament.

  Grandma, Grandpa, Kinsley, and Brant gathered near with mugs of Kinsley’s adult wassail in hand. Brant and Kinsley made sure to keep their distance from each other, though Brant’s eyes frequently drifted her way. Regret and longing swam in their depths.

  I was grateful when Grandpa patted Brant on the back. “Too few men know you have to lose sight of the path every once in a while to find your way.”

  Brant’s smile said he appreciated the sentiment.

  Grandpa made his way to me and Brock next. He stopped right in front of me and gave me a good once-over. “Looks like someone finally remembered who she was.” He gave me a wink and walked off without another word. It was just like him.

  “What did he mean?” Brock asked me.

  I thought back to a conversation Grandpa and I had had many years ago when I’d first come to live with them. He had told me I was the master of my own destiny. That I needed to learn how to act instead of reacting. When I’d married Brock, I’d been reacting to my circumstances. Grandpa must have known. But choosing Brock now was an act of my own agency.

  I put my arms around Brock’s waist. “I think he was referring to how good Dani Holland sounds.”

  “I know it’s my favorite name.”

  I laid my head against Brock’s chest. He was home. He was my choice.

  Brock rested his chin on my head. “You know, we need to get a Christmas tree so I have somewhere to place your gift. I’m almost finished with it.” He sounded so proud of himself.

  “I can’t wait to see what
it is.”

  “I hope you like it. It might not be what you expect, especially now.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t matter. “I know I’ll love it.”

  “It’s time for a toast,” Jonah called, to no one’s surprise.

  We all laughed and groaned.

  Jonah paid no attention to us as he and Ariana handed out steaming hot mugs of wassail to those of us who didn’t have one. Except to Whitney, of course, and Ariana. They both got sparkling cider.

  With drinks in hand, we all stood around the decorated tree that was now filled with stained glass dinosaurs of all types and colors. Coordinating bows were woven in. It was the cutest tree. One for the books, for sure.

  I loved looking around at all the faces lit up by the Christmas tree lights. These were all the people I cared for most in the world, minus Sheridan. An indescribable joy could be felt in this room with all of us together. Even Brant’s eyes didn’t look so hollow surrounded by such love.

  Jonah raised his Santa mug. “What a ride this year has been. I know we have all had our ups and downs. Great triumphs and crushing defeats. We’ve won some, and we’ve lost some. We’ve laughed and cried. But this I know: I couldn’t imagine a greater group of people to go through life with.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  “May we each have a Merry Christmas,” he continued. “And may the New Year bring us happiness and peace and”—he gave his wife a sly grin—“a healthy, happy baby.”

  “Hear! Hear!” we all roared.

  A great hope swelled within me. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t fear it. I welcomed it with open arms, anxious to see what the future held for me and my family.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Robert Frost wrote, ‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in,’” the pastor’s words rang through the chapel during Christmas Eve’s midnight service. There was a smattering of laughter among the congregation.

  “For some of us, home brings thoughts of warmth and happiness. For others, it can inflict painful memories. Regardless, each of us can find a home with God. He welcomes all into his house. He takes everyone in.”

  I stared at the stained glass starburst dove I had been infatuated with. Tonight, it was particularly beautiful in the glow of all the candles burning throughout the church. The effect made the dove look as if she were soaring, free of the chains that had been holding her to the ground. Or maybe it was only a reflection of how I felt. It was the first time in months I had felt at home in this chapel. The pavilion that had kept me from God had finally shattered because I’d remembered who I was and that I had worth even though I made mistakes, big and small. The pastor’s words spoke reassurance to my soul that God would take me in too. That he had the power to heal and to forgive. And if he could forgive, I should certainly forgive myself.

  “Because of his son, a babe born in Bethlehem, we have all we need to come home.”

  I snuggled closer to Brock. Thoughts of home and babies swirled in my mind. I thought about how much I wanted a baby with him, but also of all the babies who needed good homes. I reflected on the day we’d had before we made it to church. Brock and I had spent most of our day and into the night delivering gifts to many kinds of homes. Some of them were filled with several children anxious for Santa Claus to visit them while they slept. Smiles were plenty and feelings of joy abounded. In other homes there was a stark difference—the atmosphere was sterile, and hope was squashed. One little three-year-old girl kept coming to my mind—Gemma. Her deep-brown eyes, begging to be loved, had been haunting me all day.

  When Brock and I entered the unkept home where Gemma lived, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter weather. Her foster parents didn’t seem like cruel people, yet they didn’t seem to offer any sort of comfort either. Gemma had immediately run to me and wrapped her tiny arms around my legs. I’d smoothed her dark tangled hair, and, without asking her foster parents, I’d picked her up. When I had held her, it was as if I could see the baby I’d dreamed of, only a few years older, right down to her olive skin. I hadn’t wanted to let her go. And she’d clung to me to the very last second, even crying when we had to leave.

  “Brock,” I whispered in his ear. “I want to find out more about Gemma.”

  He smiled. “I had a feeling you would.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder. It gave me a glimpse of Sheridan, sitting on Brock’s other side between her two sons. She was closing her eyes as if making a wish. I wished I could grant whatever it was she was asking for. Regrettably, only one man had that power, and he wasn’t here. The rumors had begun that there was trouble for the Hollands. They were added to the rumors about the breakup of Brant and Jill. Infidelity was the loudest rumor in both cases. Neither Sheridan nor Brant did anything to quash them. They both had kept their heads held high and their mouths shut, at least publicly.

  Privately, they were reeling. Shattered dreams and families are hard to repair. I had warned John. Perhaps, though, he took comfort in Holland Industries’ banner year. Profits were high and shareholders happy, according to the local news. I hoped the trade-off was worth it for John. But how could it be?

  I admired Sheridan and Brant’s grace in how they handled it all. I, for one, probably wouldn’t have come to church knowing there would be those there who whispered behind my back—people I thought to be friends but who loved a juicy story, especially when it involved the great ones falling. But Sheridan and Brant weren’t going to let the naysayers and gossipers keep them from worshipping and celebrating one of the greatest events in the history of mankind. They reminded me of the dove, bursting forth amid great difficulty. Though wasn’t that how we learned we could soar higher?

  When the service was over, we said good night to Brant and Mom. We would celebrate with them and my grandparents tomorrow. Kinsley was in London, and Ariana and her family were in Chicago spending Christmas with her parents and brothers, so it would be a quieter affair.

  Brock was ever anxious to get home and sped as fast as he could on the clear, cold night. When we entered the garage, he threw the car in park and raced to pull me from the car. By the time we made it through the mudroom door, he already had me in his arms and half-undressed. He carried me so swiftly up the stairs I hardly had time to admire our very own Christmas tree twinkling in the dark, decorated with the angels Ariana had made for me to remind me of the angel we had lost.

  I unbuttoned Brock’s shirt while our lips tangled. This was turning out to be the best Christmas I’d ever had. When he walked me through the french doors, I remembered how I had longed for him to invite me in, to make me his wife in more than name only. Finally, he had done that and more. He had reminded me I had wings to fly and the power to soar.

  “I love you,” I whispered between kisses.

  “I love you more.” He laid me gently on our bed and showed me how true he was to his word.

  ~*~

  When the morning light came, I found myself being kissed awake. I burrowed my head into Brock’s chest hair. “What time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  “It’s too early. Let’s go back to sleep.” I snuggled my body closer, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against mine.

  “But Santa came.”

  “He did?” I giggled.

  “Yes, he heard you’ve been a very good girl.” His sultry undertones were easily detected.

  I kissed his chest. “Give me thirty more minutes,” I begged. I’d been running nonstop for a month, and I was exhausted. Especially since I wasn’t getting a lot of sleep lately. Not that I was complaining.

  “Come on, honey. I promise it will be worth it.”

  Brock had never used that term of endearment before; it must have really meant a lot to him.

  “Okay,” I groaned.

  He popped up so fast I was thrown to the side. “Wow, so is the honeymoon period over?” I teased.

  “Not at all. I
plan on unwrapping you after you see your gift.”

  I rolled my eyes but smiled.

  I slipped on Brock’s discarded dress shirt from the night before, and he threw on a pair of jeans. Shirtless with jeans was my favorite look. I wrapped my arms around him from behind and kissed all his raised scars. There were too many.

  “Merry Christmas,” I whispered, so thankful we got another Christmas together. His scars reminded me how easily we could have been mourning his life today.

  “Merry Christmas, Dani.” He pulled me around him. “Today, I don’t want to think about what might have been,” he said, as if he had read my mind. “I only want to focus on the here and now.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Now close your eyes.”

  I did as he asked, and he scooped me up into his arms. I wrapped my own around his neck.

  “Don’t peek,” he instructed me as he walked us carefully down the stairs.

  “I’m not peeking.” Though I really wanted to.

  I could tell when we landed downstairs, and Brock padded over to the tree near the unlit fireplace. My excitement was building.

  “I’m going to set you down, but keep your eyes closed.” He gently placed me on my feet and turned me in the right direction. “Okay, open your eyes.”

  My eyes popped open, and my vision was immediately consumed with the most beautiful Amish-style swinging cradle in dark mahogany I had ever seen. I dropped to my knees in front of it and touched all the handcrafted features, from the slats to the base. I lightly pushed it and let it swing back and forth. “You made this?” I was so overcome with emotion.

  Brock sat next to me and pulled me onto his lap. “I began making it after I found out you were pregnant. I thought it could help me feel like the baby was mine.”

  I was so overwhelmed by what a good man he was. “Did it?”

  “Not at first,” he seemed ashamed to admit. “I resented the baby and hated myself for it. Little by little, though, as I fashioned the pieces, sanded the wood, and began to put it together, I started to see myself watching over the baby as she slept. I wanted to protect her. I know I did a terrible job of showing you how I really felt, as I was constantly warring between feelings of resentment and acceptance. There was no telling each day which side would win.”