If the Stick Turns Pink...

by Carla Cassidy

  The back door was open, and as he approached the screen door he heard the faint murmur of their familiar voices and the creak of the porch swing.

  He was about to open the door when he heard his mother giggle. It was a low, girlish sound he’d never heard from her before and it was followed by a long silence, then a sigh.

  They were smooching. The thought struck him like a pit bull biting his midsection. His parents, the two people he’d thought were miserable with each other, were sweet-talking and kissing each other as the sun disappeared in the west.

  Bailey backed away from the door and stealthily made his way back through the living room and out the front door. His thoughts raced as he got back into his truck and drove off in the direction of his own place.

  For years Bailey had believed his parents were two miserable people trapped together by their marriage vows. Over and over again Mellie had tried to tell him that his parents’ bickering and fussing with each other was good-natured, a form of foreplay.

  But Bailey hadn’t listened to her. He felt as if his entire world had been kicked out from under him, first by Mellie and now by the knowledge that his parents’ marriage contained not only a lot of differences of opinion but apparently a love that had lasted through the years.

  As he pulled in front of his house, his headache found a foothold and pounded across his forehead. He needed to go inside. He needed the peace and quiet of his house. He needed…he needed…hell, he had no idea what he needed.

  Melanie had discovered in the past week that she hated sunset—that blurred time between day and night when it was too early to go to bed and too easy to fall into the purple gloom of the twilight.

  And there was no gloom so deep and dark as that of a friendless one, she thought, as she sat at her kitchen table with a pad and a pencil in front of her and a cup of coffee within reach.

  Tomorrow she positively, absolutely had to go grocery shopping. She’d spent the past week eating whatever canned goods had been in her pantry, not wanting to chance running into anyone in town. Now that she and Bailey had had their final parting of the ways, so to speak, she’d simply have to be prepared to tell anyone who might ask that they were separated and seeking a divorce.

  It would be bad enough answering those questions now, but it would be far worse when a few months had passed and her pregnancy started to show.

  Her pregnancy. She placed her hands on her abdomen, thinking of the baby growing inside. Despite her anguish over Bailey and how things had turned out, she wasn’t sorry about the baby. Rather she was thrilled. She would always have a piece of Bailey in her life—his little girl or little boy to love and cherish.

  She got up from the sofa and headed for the bedroom, deciding it was okay to get into her pajamas before 7:00 p.m. She’d just entered her bedroom when she heard a knock on her door. Who could that be?

  She didn’t think anyone knew she was here. Maybe one of her friends or a neighbor had seen a light on in here and was checking up on things.

  Apparently the time for answering nosy questions had come. Wearily she left the bedroom and went to the front door. She gasped in surprise as she saw Bailey standing there.

  “I know you said you didn’t want to see me anymore,” he began without preamble.

  “I didn’t exactly say I didn’t want to see you anymore,” she returned, irritated that her voice sounded uneven and fragile.

  “I need you to come with me, Mellie.”

  “Come with you where?” She held the door tightly, as if that would not only keep him out of her home but also out of her heart.

  “Back to my place. It’s Squirt.”

  Melanie’s heart fell. “Squirt? What’s wrong? Is he hurt?” She grabbed Bailey’s hand in a painfully tight squeeze, tears leaping into her eyes.

  “No…no,” he said hurriedly. “It’s nothing real bad. He…he just isn’t eating. I think he misses you. I thought maybe you could come out and visit with him for a few minutes and get him to eat.”

  Although the last place she wanted to be was at Bailey’s, where memories of loving him could only torture her, she couldn’t ignore Squirt’s needs.

  “All right, I’ll come for just a little while,” she agreed. “Jut let me grab my purse.”

  A few moments later she was seated next to Bailey in his truck, the scent of him whirling in the air with a familiarity that ached inside her.

  After making love with Bailey for a week or two, she’d worried that she might be a nymphomaniac because she’d believed it was the sex that she liked so much. But it had been making love to Bailey that she liked, and the thought of making love with any other man was repugnant.

  She shot a surreptitious glance at Bailey, who was humming just under his breath. Humming…which meant he had something on his mind. There was a time when she would have been able to guess what he was thinking about or concentrating on, but no more.

  He must have felt her gaze on him. He glanced at her quickly, then back out the window. “I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier,” he said.

  She wanted to be angry with him. Anger would make it so much easier to deal with him. But she couldn’t sustain any anger. She’d never been able to stay mad at him.

  “It’s all right,” she said softly. “We both got rather emotional.”

  They fell into a silence. The silence wasn’t the companionable kind they once enjoyed, but rather an uncomfortable quiet that begged to be broken.

  But Melanie had nothing more to say. She’d said everything earlier to him, and apparently he’d said all he needed to then, as well.

  So the silence grew, and in its wake Melanie’s heartbreak built once again to a near crescendo. She stared blankly out the window, her heart wrapped in pain as he turned down the lane that led to his house.

  The sun had set, and dark shadows had taken up residency, but his porch light burned bright, illuminating the porch and the swing that had never been there before.

  As he pulled the truck to a halt, she turned to stare at him, remembering that he’d told her the day he got a porch swing would be the day he’d be declared insane.

  “You’ve lost your mind?” she asked softly.

  He shut off the engine, unbuckled his seat belt, then turned to face her. “I have.”

  “Is this what you brought me out here to show me?” She didn’t understand what the swing implied, why he had bought one. Was this some crazy attempt to apologize for yelling at her earlier? Was it some misguided effort to make her be friends with him once again?

  “Let’s get out and have a swing. I have a few things to tell you,” he said.

  How cruel could he be? Didn’t he realize part of her fantasy had been the two of them sitting in a swing, watching their children play in the yard? Didn’t he realize she’d dreamed of sitting on a porch swing with him each evening, sharing the events of the day, sharing the passion of their hearts?

  Still, even knowing it would be torture, she got out of the truck and followed him up to the porch. He waited until she was seated in the swing, then he eased down next to her, his thigh warm and firm against hers.

  “Mellie, from the time I left your place this afternoon I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I drove for hours, angry that things had turned out the way they had.” He drew a deep breath and set the swing moving to and fro.

  “I finally stopped at my parents’ place. I’d decided it was time for me to tell them that we were separated.” He didn’t look at her, but rather stared off in the distance before them.

  “What did they say?” She knew how difficult it must have been for him, knew she would be facing the same difficulty when she spoke to her parents.

  “I never got a chance to talk to them.” He turned to look at her. “When I got there, they were on the back porch, sitting in the swing and making out like a couple of teenagers.”

  Despite everything, to Melanie’s surprise a giggle escaped her lips. “Henry and Luella making out?”

  Bailey grinned wry
ly. “I know, just the thought of it might leave me scarred for life.” His smile fell and he reached up and swept a hand through his hair. “I left before they realized I was there. I was so stunned to realize they obviously love each other…that it’s love that has kept them together.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years,” Melanie chided.

  “Yeah, but I never really got it until today. My parents are best friends and oftentimes the worst of enemies, but at the end of each day they come together to share tenderness and caring and passion. They’re friends and lovers.”

  Melanie tensed, wondering if what he was getting at was that he still wanted the divorce, but he wanted not only friendship privileges with her but sex as well. “Bailey, if you think…”

  “Shh, let me finish. That’s your problem, Mellie, you’re always rambling on about something or another when a guy has something important to say.” He smiled at her, a smile that threatened to steal her breath away.

  “You know how I’ve always felt about being an only child. No kid should be an only child,” he continued. “And I sure don’t want my kid to be an only child.”

  “Bailey, you’re the one doing the rambling,” she exclaimed in frustration. “For goodness sake, tell me what I’m doing here.”

  His gaze held hers intently. “I told you when we first pulled up and you saw this swing that I’d lost my mind. I lost it when I thought of a life without you.”

  He grabbed her hand and wrapped his fingers tightly…warmly around it. “I thought back over all the years we’ve known each other. I thought about the fact that whenever I felt lonely or sad or happy or scared, you were always the one I wanted around me.”

  She gazed at him, his handsome face, his beautiful eyes, and her heart beat just a little faster in her chest as she listened to what he had to say. But for the first time she could ever remember, she was afraid to guess where, exactly, he was going with it all.

  “When I graduated from college, Mellie, it was your face, not Stephanie’s, that I looked for in the audience. Stephanie was supposed to be the woman I loved, but it was your freckled face I most wanted to see.”

  He released her hand and instead stroked a finger down her cheek. “Skinny, minny Mellie, I realized today that I’ve been in love with you since the second grade and I don’t want a divorce and I don’t want to spend one minute of my life without you in it.”

  Melanie stared at him…afraid to believe, afraid that somehow her sense of hearing was playing tricks on her. “If this is one of your sick jokes, Bailey, I’ll never, ever forgive you,” she finally said.

  “When have I ever played a sick joke on you?” he asked indignantly.

  “In sixth grade when you slipped worms into my sandwich, then bet Mike Moore that I could eat mine faster than he could eat his. Thankfully I saw the worms before I took the first bite.”

  Bailey’s eyes lit merrily. “Okay, so I’ve played a sick joke on you before…but that was when we were kids.” He sobered and his eyes grew darker. “We aren’t kids anymore, Mellie. I want to be your best friend, but I also want to be your husband, the man you build dreams with and sit on porch swings with…I want to be the man you make love to every night for the rest of your life.”

  “Oh, Bailey, if you don’t kiss me this very moment I swear I’m going to die,” she cried.

  He complied, drawing her into his arms and kissing her with such a sweet tenderness that every broken piece of her heart came back together in joy.

  When the kiss ended, she looked at him solemnly. “Bailey, this isn’t about the baby, is it? I mean, you aren’t just staying married to me so that we can have another baby and we won’t have an only child?”

  “My sweet Mellie, there’s only one thing that could make me remain married to you, and that’s love. And I’m not talking about the love of a friend for a friend, I’m talking about the love of one soul mate for another. You are my soul mate, you know.”

  She nodded, momentarily too filled with emotion to speak.

  “I think I was in love with you when I beat up Harley Raymond in the fifth grade for you.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Harley beat the tar out of you, but it was the thought that counted.”

  He captured her face in his hands, his eyes caressing her with a heat that was tangible. “No, Mellie, it’s the love that counted. And I want to spend the rest of my days loving you and being in love with you.”

  His mouth captured hers again. This time his kiss tasted of the trust and laughter of friendship, the passionate desire of a lover and the lifetime commitment of a soul mate.

  “I love you, Mellie,” he whispered softly against her ear.

  “And I love you, Bailey,” she replied.

  He stood abruptly, and she squealed as he picked her up in his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Doing what I should have done two months ago,” he replied. “Some things just need to be done right to stick, and I figure if I carry you over the threshold all proper-like, then that makes our marriage real and forever.”

  Real and forever. The words echoed inside her, wrapping her heart with happiness. “You might be the judge of the Miss Dairy Cow Contest, Bailey Jenkins, but when you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now, I feel like I’m the queen of the Miss Dairy Cow Contest.”

  He laughed, his eyes burning into hers with a blaze of love and desire. “One thing is for sure—you’re the queen of my heart.” With these words he kicked open the front door and carried his wife over the threshold.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8373-6

  IF THE STICK TURNS PINK…

  Copyright © 2003 by Carla Bracale

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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