by Cara Colter
He wouldn’t even look at her now. “Did you ever think of what you were doing, Jennifer, in making three motherless kids love and depend on you? If you never intended to give us a chance, why didn’t you keep a professional distance with them, like you do with the other kids?”
Her mind totally spaced on that. Suddenly it wasn’t about her, but the kids—if she’d hurt them … “I … I didn’t mean to … to—I thought …”
“What?”
“They—needed me more than the other kids,” she faltered. “I just wanted to help. I thought of myself as a transitional mother—someone to help them heal. Then when you found them another mother, they’d be ready …”
“Very noble of you,” he mocked quietly. “No, I’m sure you even believed it, for a while. But you must have seen how dependent they were becoming? You knew I wasn’t playing games, either. I’m not that kind of man. So at what point did you start blinding yourself to the damage you could do to them, because you loved playing house with us? When did we become your disposable family? Did you set a date for when it would end, or was there a plan to introduce me to the kids’ new mother at the right place and time?”
It was as if he was holding a mirror up to her face, and she could see herself clearly for the first time since Cody’s death. She’d indulged in playing house with the Brannigans, without thinking of the long-term consequences to those adorable, motherless children—or to a man who had struggled for years on his own.
All she’d wanted to do was help, to be close to them; but without meaning it, she’d played God with the Brannigan family, and it was they who would pay the price.
“Don’t come back here, Jennifer. Don’t come near me, or my kids, unless you intend to stay for life. Don’t play house with us anymore. My kids aren’t your dollies.”
She’d never heard him so harsh, or inflexible. He meant every word. There’d be no more midnight kisses in her kitchen or on blankets; no more smiles, no hugs or childish chatter to fill her life. No Noah. No more words of love, whether she was the love of his life or second best.
It was over. She didn’t deserve them.
With a tiny cry she turned and bolted out the door, and even made it to the back field before she started throwing up.
Six weeks later
“Dad, that’s hot. You need the oven mitt.” Tim raced over from the table to give Noah the protective cover.
“Thanks, mate,” Noah said, realising what he’d been about to do. He put on the mitt before getting dinner out of the oven. He served up the food for them, and sat at the table, correcting the kids when they needed it, cutting up Rowdy and Cilla’s food—but he didn’t eat himself. The kind of kiddie food they liked best had lost its appeal six weeks ago.
He felt Tim watching him, with the same anxiety he’d been watching the past two weeks since coming back home from Sydney, where they’d had the funeral for Belinda. “Tim, you’re not eating enough, matey,” he said, to distract him.
“You aren’t eating at all.”
The aggressive tone startled him; Tim had been so quiet since they came home. Noah frowned and looked down at the food and pushed it away. “Just not hungry tonight, I guess.”
“You haven’t been hungry since we got home,” Tim shouted. “You’ve been all weird for weeks, since you stopped being friends with Jen. If you want her back so bad, why don’t you just go and get her?”
Rowdy burst into tears. Cilla sucked hard on her thumb … and they all looked at him like they expected him to make their lives right.
He was failing them all over again. Nothing was damned right since Jennifer refused him. His family was falling apart again …
Noah felt the blood drain from his face. “Stop it, Tim,” he said, very quietly. “Stop it.”
And he pushed back his chair and went outside to run again, up and down the field. He didn’t leave them alone, but stayed where they could yell for him, but he ran and ran, and ran …
Five minutes later, Tim climbed out his bedroom window.
Noah was running again.
Jennifer closed her eyes. She had to stop watching the Brannigan house from the window, or she’d go insane …
But moments later, she was looking again. What else did she have to do?
It was only now that, when it was too late to change things, she knew how empty her life was without them. She’d gone back to quilting circle, took on more kids, went to church and the fundraising sessions and town improvement meetings, but none of it helped the tightness in her chest and the feeling that she wanted to be sick all the time. Veronica and Jessie had stopped making jokes about the sexy man next door weeks ago. They didn’t mention him at all after the first night, when they’d seen her reaction.
There was nothing to say, nothing could help, and the ache in her heart just grew and grew, because unlike Cody, the people she loved were alive. She could be with them all now, if she hadn’t been so blind and so stupid.
So go to him, go to them.
And say what? I’m the world’s prize idiot, I don’t deserve any of you but I need and love you and please, please accept second best?
Suddenly she squinted, concentrating. Yes, even from this distance, in the light of a strong full moon, she could see the small figure climbing out his window …
Jennifer closed her eyes, throwing up a brief prayer for him to come to her, and not to run away again.
It seemed she was answered. He came straight to the boundary fence and hopped over it, and ran to the verandah. “Jen! Jen,” he whispered urgently. “Jen!”
She was at the door before the last call. Seeing the blazing intensity of his eyes—Noah’s eyes—she gathered him into her arms. “Tim, what is it, sweetie?” She drew him inside the house. “Would you like a cookie?”
Tim shook his head, his gaze fixed on her. “Why aren’t you our friend anymore?” he asked so bluntly Jennifer caught her breath. “Don’t you love … um, Cilla and Rowdy anymore?”
Even amid a pain so strong it clawed at her heart, she wanted to smile; but she kept a straight face and said, “Of course I do, Tim—I love you all.”
“Then why don’t Cilla and Rowdy stay with you anymore? Why did Dad get someone else to finish the verandah and cubby house while we were gone? Why are you selling the house and going away? Why don’t we have dinner here and play now? We—Cilla and Rowdy, I mean—miss it here! They miss you!”
The words were fierce with the pain he was trying so hard to hide—and her heart melted. “If your dad will let you come, Tim, you are always welcome here. Always.”
But he didn’t let her off the hook. “Why does Dad get so—so sad and white when we want to see you? He—he’s as sad as Mummy used to be.” The glitter in his eyes became full-blown tears and his mouth trembled. “I’m scared, Jen!” he wailed. “Daddy’s not the same, and I can’t make him better. He doesn’t eat much and he just runs and runs and is sad all the time!”
Jennifer held him close, rocking him. “Oh, baby. Oh, Tim. I’m so sorry.” She hesitated. “Is Daddy really so sad?” The boy nodded, his head against her breast, and she ached with sweetness—she loved this strong, vulnerable boy so much! “Do you think he’s sad because of your mummy?”
Tim wrenched himself out of her arms. “No. I know it’s ‘cause he misses you. He won’t even look over here. Cilla and Rowdy miss you. Why don’t you come over, Jen?”
There was no way to avoid it; she must be honest. “Your dad wants to marry me, Tim, but I—I thought I couldn’t do that.”
“Why? Is—is it ‘cause of me? ‘Cause I’ve been so naughty?” Pleading eyes turned to her. “I can be good, Jen. I—I promise I’ll be good.”
“Oh, Tim!” She wrapped him close in her arms, kissing his forehead, his cheeks. “You are a good boy. It wasn’t that—”
Tim’s voice came out all muffled when he finally spoke. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Jen. I know you love Dad, ‘cause you always look at him all goofy.” Jennifer had to c
hoke back the laughter and tears at once. “Why won’t you be our mummy?” he cried again.
She hesitated. “It wasn’t you, or your family. It’s—it’s me. I have a problem …”
“Can’t you make it go away?” His voice was half-muffled in her shoulder.
“No,” she said, sadness touching her soul at speaking of Cody, but with Tim in her arms, it didn’t have that exquisite agony. “I—I lost my little boy a few years ago, you see. Cody died, like your mummy died. He was very sick. I have something wrong with me, you see. If I have more babies they could be sick, too. And—and that made me sad. I thought I’d miss it too much.” But not as much as I’ve missed all of you, she suddenly thought.
Tim pulled back to look at her, his eyes desperate. “But that’s not fair! Can’t—can’t Rowdy be like your little boy? Can’t he hug you and—and be like him? And Cilla could be your little girl? We need a mummy, Jen!” he cried, trembling all over with emotion. “Dad doesn’t smile anymore, and—and Cilla’s sucking her thumb all the time and climbin’ trees again, and Rowdy just cries. He doesn’t even wanna play anymore …” His tears spilled, and he dashed at them with a fist. “They need you, Jen. Please, won’t you be our—I mean, their mummy? And be nice to Daddy again, and make him happy? If—if you want more hugs, I’d even give you some,” he finished, his face filled with brave determination. “If you want two little boys, I can be your little boy, too.”
Oh, the courage of this magnificent, hurting child! Out of the mouths of babes came truth—a truth that did indeed set her free.
She might never have the baby her heart craved, but if there was something the past six weeks had taught her, it was that life with the Brannigans held a joy that stopped it ever being second-best. She missed the hugs and kisses from the children, so much more so than any of the children she minded—
And it wasn’t because they needed her: she needed them. From the first day, her heart had known what her stubborn mind refused to see. She’d loved them like a mother all along … and she loved Noah, loved him so much she felt dead inside without him.
She had two choices: she could have almost everything she’d ever wanted, or nothing at all—and nothing meant emptiness and regret for life. Almost everything was far better than second best. Just having Tim with her now, she felt like a mother. She felt loved.
“So you think your dad’s missing me, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her heart racing. With joy. She was going home, home to her babies, to her beautiful Noah …
“I know he does. He gets so sad when we want to see you, and—” Tim’s face lit up. “Jen?” he whispered, trembling with excitement.
Jen nodded, smiled and kissed him. “Tim, you are the best boy in the whole world, and I would be so proud to have you for one of my boys—but never a little boy. That can be Rowdy’s job.” She laughed at the relief lighting up his expressive eyes. “Can you climb back through that window, and do exactly what I ask you to do?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE fire had gone out again.
With a savage sound of impatience, Noah got out the box of fire-lighters again, and, giving up on economy, put four cubes under the logs at once, screwed up newspaper as well and put it everywhere, and lit it all. He stepped back, locked the fire guards into place and stood there watching, hands shoved in pockets and kicking at a piece of coal.
How could a life so full, with so little free time, still feel so empty?
Tim’s words had been bashing around in his head like a hollow drum for the past hour or more. If you want Jen back so bad, why don’t you go and get her?
Six weeks—such a short time, yet it felt like a year since he’d seen her.
He didn’t look up the hill. He didn’t look for her lights at night, and wonder if she’d come to him. It was obvious she was avoiding him. He knew better than to look. She hadn’t changed her mind. She loved him, but not enough.
He might have looked for her during the first few days after they’d come back from the funeral, but not now.
What funeral? He thought grimly. What he’d done was formally identify his wife from her wedding-ring and rotten wallet, and arranged a travesty of a service because the police wouldn’t release the remains for burial. She was still an open case, because of the letter … but the kids didn’t need to know that.
Now Peter and Jan had begun a new crusade: finding Belinda’s accidental killer. He didn’t blame them for it. Parents always wanted justice and right for their children, and Peter and Jan’s whole life had revolved around their daughter. He had more immediate priorities: his kids. He wasn’t going to let his former parents-in-law damage the kids by talking of justice, or say their Mummy wasn’t at peace yet, and why.
There were times when the fight just wasn’t worth the cost.
He felt that Belinda was finally at peace with the finding of her body—but he wasn’t. He’d said he could handle losing Jennifer—but all the way through the ordeal of looking at the wedding ring, the rotten wallet and the skeletal remains, and through a sham service with an empty coffin, a wailing son and dry-eyed, vengeful parents-in-law, all he could think was why, Jennifer? Why the hell didn’t you love me enough to be with me now?
He’d thought he was strong enough. He’d lost the love of his young life and survived, and brought up his kids the best he could … but the pain of losing Jennifer was getting worse every damned day. He’d done all he could. He’d fought for her, he’d—
Hadn’t he?
He blinked, and again. Had he fought, truly fought for Jennifer?
He hadn’t been passive; he’d fought to make her love him—but had he left something, anything undone?
The past three or four years had taught him to put the kids above his own needs—they must come first. In submerging everything that made him a man for too long, he’d buried his wants, his desires—his love—for the sake of Tim’s fears …
Even when he’d met Jennifer, and knew she loved him, when she’d made her decision to walk away, he’d let her do it. He’d let her go rather than risk it all, instead of truly fighting for her, because the kids would be hurt—
Rubbish. They were your excuse and you know it. You were too scared to be a man again …
If you want her so bad, go and get her!
With that the man in him roared to life—the man he’d lost to the father three years ago—and he would no longer be denied. What was he doing here alone, when the love of his life was five hundred feet away, loving him as he loved her?
Before he thought it through, he stalked through the door toward Jennifer’s house. He’d do whatever it took to make her say yes. Failure wasn’t an option.
“Dad!” called an imperative voice from the house. “Dad!”
Noah turned, but only for a moment. “No, Tim. Go back to bed. You’re fine, and the kids are safe. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I’ve got my phone if you need me.”
“But I’ve got a surprise, Dad—it will make you happy—”
“It can wait,” he shouted back, resuming his relentless stride.
“Where are you going, Dad?” Tim yelled, sounding frantic.
“To get Jennifer!” He didn’t care at this point if Tim rebelled; his son needed Jennifer, even if he didn’t know it yet.
But after a moment, a cry of “Waahoo!” came from the house. “Go, Dad, go get her!”
Despite his grim determination, a smile curved his mouth.
Lights were on in her house, but he didn’t care if he woke her, or knocked the door down. If she was anything like him, she wasn’t sleeping anyway. He hopped the boundary fence—
“Jennifer!” he roared as he strode up the stairs to the back door of the house he’d known as home from the first day. The woman he’d known was his the first day. “Jennifer!” He pounded on the door.
Moments later the door swung open, and a breathless woman in the throes of putting on lipstick and combing her hair at once, by the look of the things in her hand, gaz
ed at him. The smile wavered on her lips, fear and joy at once, her whole face filled with love … with love. “Noah,” she whispered, her eyes drinking him in with wide-eyed wonder and joy, like she was a kid having her first glimpse at Disneyland.
Without a word he scooped her against him and kissed her, deep, drugging kisses filled with demand. “You’re mine,” he growled between kisses. He moulded her body to his, curving his hand around her waist and hip until she moaned, dropped lipstick and hair comb, completely melted against him and kissed him back with the same insatiable hunger he felt. “I love you, and you love me and you’re going to marry me. I won’t give you up for a dream you can’t even have. I won’t give you up because you think you’re not enough for us. You are—you love my kids and they love you, and it’s more than enough. We belong together—you, me, the kids—all of us. I’m not asking you to marry me—I’m telling you.”
She pulled back, her eyes shining. “Yes, Noah,” she said softly. “Yes.”
He made another growling sound and kissed her again. “You’d better mean it, because I’m taking it as a promise. We’re getting the rings tomorrow, and I’m calling my parents to fly home. We’ll need them to mind the kids while we’re on our honeymoon.”
Jennifer gave a low, throaty laugh that made his body tighten even more. “Yes, darling,” she murmured with a teasing wink. “And are you going to tell me when the wedding is and where? My brother and sisters and their families might want to come to my wedding, and my parents will need to fly home, too.”
He grinned and kissed her again, deep and hot, until they forgot the questions for a while. “Thirty-four days,” he whispered against her mouth. “We get the licence tomorrow, and marry the day we legally can. And—” thinking on his feet had worked quite well in the past half hour “—how does the Barrier Reef sound for a honeymoon? We could get my parents to mind the kids on a family-friendly resort, and we could sail around the islands. We could visit them every few days, and be close enough for contact …”
“And still have time alone,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “I can’t wait.” Her kiss was deep, with an urgency that told him the past weeks had been as hard for her as for him. “I love you so much, Noah. I’ve missed you like crazy.”