Honor's Promise

by Sharon Sala

  “No,” she whispered in his ear. “Just…” she struggled for the right words “…just happy, I guess.”

  “Oh, honey,” Trace moaned, and couldn’t stop himself from the urge to taste the happiness.

  His movements were slow, but Honor knew before he did that he was going to kiss her. She tilted her head just the tiniest bit and met his intentions with softly parted lips.

  He swallowed her sigh as their initial touch melted into an electrifying caress of sensuality. Her response to his kiss was just as open and giving as her response to life. Trace tried to block out the images that flooded his mind of how generous and giving Honor would be at making love. He felt his body harden and his knees go weak. He pulled her tighter into his arms as the final notes of the last dance softly disappeared.

  Honor knew what Trace was feeling. And she knew that if he could see into her heart, an answering emotion would be lying there in wait.

  “I guess it’s time for me to take you home,” Trace said, as he reluctantly released his claim on Honor’s mouth.

  He watched her blink in confusion and then look up at him with such a trusting expression, it made him want to cry. Tomorrow she was going to hate the sound of his name. He didn’t think he was going to be able to survive that.

  It was hard for her to answer; to find the words to express the joy this night had given her. Finally she spoke. “This has been the best night of my life, Trace Logan. I wish it never had to end.”

  She was puzzled by the expression that swept over his features, darkening his eyes with regret…and fear?

  “Me, too,” Trace growled. “Come on, before I forget I’m supposed to be a gentleman about these things.” He pulled her gently toward the door.

  The drive home was short and silent. Each of them seemed lost in the magic of their first date, both wondering if what they were feeling was shared or imagined.

  It wasn’t until Trace pulled to a stop in front of her darkened house that he forced himself to think of the consequences of continuing this night. He knew it was impossible.

  Honor sat quietly in the shared silence of the car’s dark interior and waited for whatever else the night would bring. She didn’t want it to end, but she knew it had to.

  “Come on, honey,” Trace said softly. “I’ll walk you to your door. I don’t like to think of you entering a dark house alone.”

  She let him lead her silently up the porch steps, handed him her key, and waited patiently as he turned it in the lock. She reached around in front of him as he pushed the front door inward.

  “I’ll get the light,” she said quietly.

  But Trace deftly caught her hand and stopped her.

  He didn’t speak. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then she was in his arms. Trace took one step in slow motion as he pulled them inside the privacy of her home and took the breath from her lungs with his kiss.

  She burned. His mouth scorched, his hands branded. Suddenly, his kiss was not enough. She leaned back against the wall and pulled Trace into the ache he’d created.

  Her soft little moan sent Trace’s hands sliding down her back. He cupped the curve of her hips and pulled her fiercely against him, grinding her into the swelling pain in his own lower body. He knew he needed to stop, but the sensation of holding this magnificent woman so tenderly was driving reason out of his mind. He wanted everything Honor would share with him, but it was not his to ask. Not after what he was going to do to her tomorrow.

  It was the thought of tomorrow that finally made him come to his senses, and he released his hold on her mouth and body with an angry rush of breath. Their foreheads met as he spoke harshly into the darkness.

  “I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not going to apologize, woman. So don’t ask me.” He cupped her face in his hands and whispered against her lips, “Honor, these have been the most special two days of my life. Whether you believe me or not is immaterial. I can’t put into words what I’m feeling. I don’t even know if there are words to fit. But I do know this. No matter what else you will ever think of me, you have to know that I’m telling you the truth. I don’t have the right to tell you what I’m feeling just now. Maybe tomorrow…” He let his words trail into the silence.

  Honor was slightly puzzled by the strange, almost fatalistic tone of his voice, but she interpreted his reticence as consideration. After all they’d only just met. She could hardly believe that was true. She felt as if she’d known him all her life. But it was the mention of tomorrow that reminded her.

  “I don’t know when you have to leave,” she whispered, and let her hand rest on his chest above his heartbeat. “But I hope you don’t leave without saying good-bye. These past two days have been more than special for me as well. I have to go to Big Springs in the morning. My mother’s lawyer called earlier today and asked me to drop in. I’ll be glad when all this will and estate business is finished. Each time I am forced to discuss it, it just brings back all the feelings of loss. I guess time will help that too, but…” She shrugged in the darkness and Trace felt the fragile curve of her shoulders as she whispered, “You know what I mean.”

  Suddenly he had a horrible, dragging fear. He didn’t want to turn her loose. He didn’t want tomorrow to come. What if they disappeared tonight? What if he never went back to Colorado? He knew when she walked through the lawyer’s door tomorrow, he was going to watch their future and her trust die. He couldn’t face the thought.

  “Oh, honey,” he moaned, and pulled her back into his arms, hugging her desperately. “Remember! No matter what else happens between us, you are more special to me than you’ll ever know.”

  Honor frowned in the darkness at the strangeness of his remarks. They sounded so final. When she thought to question him further, he turned and walked away. She started to call him back and then she stopped herself. Enough had passed between them for one night. Tomorrow was another day. She’d face it when the sun came up and not a moment sooner.

  She watched Trace’s car lights come on, watched him back out of the parking lot amidst the busy Sat-urday traffic at Charlie’s, and then closed and locked the door.

  * * *

  “Yes, I’ve seen the lawyer,” Trace growled into the phone, as he stared blindly at the ceiling above his bed. “She’s going in tomorrow. Thinks it has something to do with her mother’s estate.”

  “You sound mad, boy,” J. J. muttered.

  “You’re right. I do sound mad. I am. I don’t like being deceptive with someone, especially her. Hell yes, I like her.” Trace shouted into the receiver. “How could I not? She’s beautiful, honest, and trusting, and come tomorrow, she’s going to hate my guts. Yeah, right,” he muttered, as he hung up the phone. “I’ll get a good night’s sleep…but not in this lifetime.”

  J. J. frowned as he hung up the phone, and then an odd, engaging smile spread over his face. Wouldn’t it be something if his granddaughter fell in love with Trace? It sounded as if Trace was halfway there already. He rubbed his aching leg and cursed roundly at the fates for throwing him off that damned horse. If it hadn’t happened he wouldn’t be waiting while someone else did his work. Oh, well, he thought, as he lay back down on his bed, it’ll all work out. He’d waited too long to be disappointed now. Maybe by this time next week his granddaughter would be here where she belonged.

  Chapter 3

  The parking lot was full at the business plaza where Rolly Hawkins’s law office was located. Honor kept one eye on the flow of traffic and another on the possibility of a vacant parking space as she made a second turn through the area. She saw an opening and turned the wheel of her shiny black Cougar before someone else beat her to it.

  It was hot and windy. Not even a remote chance of rain teased the near-white cloudless sky as Honor dumped her car keys in her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for his office. This visit was still a puzzle. She couldn’t imagine there being anything left to sign. She thought she’d finished with all the paperwork weeks ago.

&
nbsp; The secretary looked up, then smiled broadly as she recognized the approaching client.

  “Honor! It’s good to see you. Where did you get that great outfit? I love it! I’d get one like it except I’m afraid my broad rear end and short legs wouldn’t do it justice.”

  She looked longingly at the loose, flowing legs of the black-and-white striped linen slacks and the voluptuous curves barely hidden beneath Honor’s soft, white blouse. She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, exaggerating her distress.

  Honor laughed and then replied, “Sometimes being tall isn’t all that great, Judy. It’s difficult to get romantic when the best view you have of your date is watching him go bald.”

  “Honey, you’re a caution,” Judy laughed, and then buzzed Rolly Hawkins’s office. “Honor O’Brien is here, sir.”

  “Send her in! Send her in!” boomed a loud, raucous voice.

  They smiled their good-byes as Honor walked into the inner office.

  “Come on in here, girl,” Rolly Hawkins said, as he greeted Honor with a hug and a peck on the cheek. He had to stretch, but he managed nicely. He never passed up a chance to kiss a pretty female. And he’d known Honor and her mother for years.

  “Mr. Hawkins,” Honor said. She returned the greeting and then casually seated herself across the desk from the rotund little man. “I was a bit surprised to get your call yesterday. I thought all this business was finished.”

  “Yes, well, sometimes dying is complicated,” he said with an obscure smile, and looked down at his watch. “We’ll get this meeting started just as soon as the gentleman arrives. And,” he said loudly as the door to his office opened, “speak of the devil, here he is now!”

  Honor turned and looked up at the tall, familiar figure of the man who entered the office. Her smile of amazement quickly disappeared as the sudden thought entered her brain: What possible reason would Trace Logan have for being here? One look at the solemn expression on his face told her she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “Mr. Hawkins?” Fright tinged her question.

  The look of concern and—pity?—on Rolly’s face frightened her even more. She looked back at Trace, desperate for a word that would put her fears to rest. There was nothing but a similar expression of concern along with traces of guilt.

  “I don’t understand,” Honor said, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice as Trace walked over to Rolly Hawkins’s desk and handed him a long white envelope.

  “Honey,” Rolly Hawkins began. “You know I’ve been your momma’s lawyer for years?”

  Honor nodded silently and wadded her hands together in her lap. She wouldn’t panic. There had to be a simple, logical explanation for Trace’s presence. She wouldn’t believe he’d be a part of any deception. She just couldn’t.

  “Just before Charlie went into the hospital the last time, she came to see me,” Rolly said.

  Honor couldn’t mask her look of surprise. She hadn’t known about that. She felt oddly betrayed. She thought they’d shared everything.

  “And,” he continued, “at that time she gave me some papers, including this letter, to be mailed after her death.”

  Honor swallowed hard, bit the inside of her lip, and stared blindly at a point just over Rolly Hawkins’s shoulder. She could see Trace’s face out of the corner of her eye. He looked as sick as she felt.

  “What does that letter have to do with him?” Honor muttered, and looked accusingly at Trace.

  Rolly Hawkins started to explain when Trace interrupted.

  “Let me,” he pleaded, and walked over to where Honor was seated. Kneeling before the hurt on her face, he grabbed hold of the knot she’d made of her hands.

  “The letter Charlotte O’Brien had Mr. Hawkins mail was addressed to my boss, J. J. Malone. He’d be here himself, but he’s still recovering from a fall.”

  Trace continued, his dark eyes pleading silently for Honor’s patience and understanding as he worked the knots from her fingers and covered them with his own.

  “The man your mother sent the letter to is your grandfather, Honor. I’m here on his behalf.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect “O.” “My grandfather! I didn’t even know I had one. But why all the secrecy? I knew I was illegitimate. I knew my father had family in Colorado. I don’t understand why you’re both acting this way. If he doesn’t want to acknowledge an illegitimate child, I don’t care. I’ve managed all these years without an extended family. I don’t think I’ll perish without one now.”

  Sarcasm tinged the panic she was trying to ignore. She didn’t understand their pity.

  “Your grandfather has no desire to ignore you,” Trace replied vehemently. “Quite the contrary. In fact, he was ecstatic when he received the letter.”

  “Then, I don’t understand,” Honor said. Her heart thumped loudly against her breast.

  “I know,” Trace said softly. “There’s no easy way to tell you. I think the letter will speak for itself.” He took the letter from Hawkins’s desk and handed it to Honor.

  She stared at the envelope in her hands and then back up at the two men who watched her with varying expressions of pity. She glared, took a deep breath, and yanked the letter from the envelope. With shaky fingers, she unfolded the paper and began to read.

  Almost instantly tears pooled and began to flow down her flushed cheeks. Her mother’s handwriting was unmistakable. It wasn’t long before a quick frown pulled a tiny furrow across her forehead.

  Trace watched the frown deepen, saw the shock, then the disbelief, then the pain and betrayal take physical possession of her body. She sat in frozen silence as her eyes grew stormy and her mouth tightened in the denial Trace knew would come. It was evident, and it was inevitable.

  “This is a lie,” Honor said quietly. Too quietly for Trace’s peace of mind. “I can’t believe you’d be a party to this, Rolly,” Honor accused, as her voice grew stronger and her posture stiffened.

  She stood up, crumpled the letter into a ball, and threw it at Trace’s chest. “As for you, I guess I don’t know what you’re capable of. After all, you’re nothing but a lying stranger.”

  Her anger enveloped him. At this point he couldn’t do or say anything that was going to make her believe him, or make her understand.

  “Now, Honor,” Rolly Hawkins argued, “you know better than that. I have no reason on God’s earth to lie to you. You’re like a daughter to me.”

  “Daughter?” Honor shouted, and leaned over his desk. “That’s a good one. I’m not your daughter! And you want me to believe I’m not even Charlotte O’Brien’s daughter. If I’m to believe this bull, I don’t even know who I am.” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands.

  Trace leaned down, picked up the crumpled letter, and spoke softly as his heart broke into tiny, painful pieces.

  “Your name is Mary Margaret Malone. You were born on July 4, 1965, to Johnny and Madeline Malone. You were snatched from your stroller while on an outing with your nanny when you were nearly eight months old. Your natural parents are dead. You have a grandfather, an aunt, and an uncle in Colorado Springs.”

  Honor gasped and turned to argue, when Trace’s quiet repetition of facts convinced her that this was not a bad dream.

  “No,” she moaned, as her legs gave way.

  Trace caught her just before she hit the floor.

  “Here, lay her on the couch,” Rolly said, and looked wildly around for help. There was none to be had. “Damn it, I knew this was going to be hard on her. She worshiped Charlie. And,” he looked sharply at Trace as he gently lowered Honor’s limp body onto the black overstuffed leather couch, “I don’t care what you say, Charlotte O’Brien was a damn fine woman!”

  “I’m sure she was,” Trace said softly. He pulled his handkerchief from his pants pocket. “Here, dampen this for me,” he ordered.

  The lawyer quickly responded, and then handed the dripping cloth back to Trace.

  “But the fact remains,” Trace conti
nued. “She stole someone else’s child. Unfortunately, the child is the one who’s going to have to suffer, and ultimately pay the price of the crime. Look where this has left Honor! Instead of finding a new family, she’s just lost her mother twice. And,” he muttered to himself, “I’m probably going to be the one she’ll blame. In her eyes, I’m the one who tore her world apart. Dammit to hell, anyway,” he said, and gently ran the cool damp cloth across her forehead and down her neck.

  Honor moaned and her eyelids fluttered. She felt herself coming back through a long black tunnel, and struggled weakly as she fell from it, back into the light. And with the light came the memories. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. They were frozen somewhere in her heart and mind.

  “Honor…” Trace called softly, gently wiping the cloth across her forehead and down her cheek, trying to clean away the pain.

  Honor heard her name, heard his voice, and slowly opened her eyes.

  Trace watched her gray eyes cloud and darken like the thunderheads over the Colorado Rockies on a hot summer day. He braced himself for what he feared was coming. His fears were confirmed as Honor spoke.

  “Get away from me,” she said slowly, and began to push herself from the couch, away from Trace Logan’s reach. “I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to talk to me. I don’t even want to look at your lying face. You snuck around, prying into my life with your casual questions and your false concern.”

  “I wasn’t lying about being concerned, Honor,” Trace said quietly. He couldn’t defend himself further. He knew he shouldn’t have become personally involved with her. But knowing and doing are two different things. And it was too late to worry about it now.

  Honor glared, and then in a slow, dignified movement, turned her back on Trace and ignored him.

  “Honor,” Rolly Hawkins remonstrated. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say except that it doesn’t change your ownership of anything Charlie left to you. It’s still legally yours.”

  He held up his hand, stopping the angry words she started to toss his way. “She also asked me to give you this.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a faded blue book with an embossed flower border. “It’s a journal. It was your momma’s. Take it home and read it before you do anything else.” He shoved it in Honor’s hands. “You do what I say, girl. You go home, and you read your momma’s words. Maybe they’ll help. Maybe not. But it’s the last thing you can do for her.”