“Come here.” The look on her face was like a knife in his heart.
He drew her down to the fur rug in front of the fire. She hugged her knees and stared into the flames. Christmas carols played poignantly from the radio.
“Are you sorry?”
She shrugged. “No…not sorry.”
“You’re certainly not elated.”
“No, not elated.”
He smiled, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, then leaned forward and kissed her. “Why?” he questioned gently.
“I’ve never allowed myself to get this close to anyone before.”
“Why not?”
Her glance was full of personal pain. “Isn’t the answer obvious?”
“Aunt Harry?”
“Yes. Mostly.” She sipped her coffee. “What man would want to marry me with Aunt Harry standing in the wings.”
“Come on, now. A woman’s family doesn’t have anything to do with how a man feels about her.”
She turned to face him. “Normal women, Russ. Don’t you get it? I’m a package deal. Marry me, marry my Aunt Harry. It’s always been that way, and always will be.”
“Is that fair?”
She seemed surprised. “To whom?”
“To you.”
“Fair or not, that’s how it is.” She sighed. “Do I scare you?”
“Hell, yes, you scare me.”
“Sorry. I don’t want you to think that today will change anything, that I’ll make any demands on you. I know how you feel about your career. Frankly, I feel the same way about it. I don’t want you to leave what you’ve worked a lifetime to achieve.”
“My career is not compatible with home life as you know it.”
“I know.”
“I’m gone for…”
“Russ.” She put her hand on his arm. “You owe me no explanations, I understand. You’ve never pretended to want anything permanent in Morning Sun. I was under no illusion when I came here with you today.” She stood for a long while and stared at the flames licking the sides of a large log.
“I wanted this as much as you did.” She turned to him. “I don’t think I have to convince you that I don’t believe in one-night stands, nor sex without commitment, but like I said earlier, we’re both adults. What happened today was inevitable. You know I’ve always been a fool about you.”
He gazed at her solemnly. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“Well, you do now.” She kissed him and got up. “I have to go. It will be awfully hard to explain to Aunt Harry where I’ve been all morning.”
“Tell her the truth.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Right.”
“Who knows? Maybe she had scrambled eggs à la George this morning.”
“Not Aunt Harry!” Color flooded her cheeks.
Grinning, he got up and stretched. “Stay here with me. We’ll go outside, build a snowman, come back, make love, sit by the fire, catch up on each other’s lives.”
“I’d like that, really I would. But I can’t.” She disappeared into the bathroom to dress.
So, the relationship needed a little more work. Going over to the windows, he watched some neighborhood kids engaged in a spirited snowball fight. When had his life left the path of what was normal and somehow “right” for him? Every advancement, every pay raise, seemed a small step in his career, yet they were all giant leaps leading away from Morning Sun. Why did it take him ten years to realize his true goal was being left farther and farther behind?
He focused on a small, blond girl being pulled on a sled by her dad.
That was what he wanted.
He wanted those kids out there to be his kids, and that woman in there, to be his woman.
CHAPTER 8
“GOING OUT with that Foster boy again?” Aunt Harry asked, peering at Beth over her reading glasses.
“What makes you think that?” Beth checked her lipstick in the hall mirror for the third time.
“You’re dressed fit to kill, that’s what,” Harriet said, her eyes twinkling. “Uh-huh. I thought you two would get together.” She returned to the article she was reading.
Just what did Aunt Harriet mean by “get together?” Beth didn’t dare ask. For the present, she would enjoy Russ’s company and pretend “get together” meant simply that. She and Russ had definitely “gotten together” lately. They’d been “together” every night since she’d opened the bookstore. Russ had won two hearts that night. Hers, and Aunt Harry’s, when he’d shown up with flowers and a box of chocolates for her.
Goose bumps stood out on Beth’s arms when she thought of their nights. Russ was a consummate lover, caring, always concerned about her needs. His lovemaking fulfilled every fantasy she ever had. He walked her home at night and kissed her on the porch in plain sight of all the neighbors. He obviously wasn’t concerned about what others thought. For the moment, Beth had to admit that her life was nearly perfect. The dark cloud that hung over her love life was merely a shadow at the moment, but the time for Russ to leave was fast approaching. She shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
“Russ and I aren’t a couple, Aunt Harriet. He’s a terrific man, but he’ll be gone soon.” A lump rose in her throat and her chest tightened. Buck up, Beth. You’re no teenager. You knew the facts. Russ’s future awaits him in Washington; yours is here in Morning Sun. The miles that would soon separate them did nothing to lessen their mutual attraction—and there was an attraction, Beth couldn’t deny that. She was falling more in love with him with each passing day and she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to try. She’d face whatever was coming when it came. For now…well for now…she planned to enjoy every minute they had together.
Harry tore off a coupon, scribbled on it, then put it in an envelope and sealed it. “Put this in the mailbox on your way out, will you, hon? I’m entering a pickle contest. The grand prize is a week in Hawaii! Maybe I’ll win you a honeymoon.”
More likely, a forty-eight-jar case of kosher dills. But at least, she and Harry both liked pickles. A honeymoon without a groom would be a booby prize.
“Sure, be glad to. Any news from the bingo players?”
“Not a thing. They’re stubborn as a grass stain.” A smile hovered at the corners of Harry’s mouth. “George says the games are boring without me.”
“Oh? When did you see George?”
“He called last night. He wanted my marshmallow fudge recipe—the one with mustard in it. He has a sweet tooth, you know.”
Beth bent toward the mirror, smoothing her brows. “You two seem to talk on the phone a lot lately.” She was beginning to agree with Russ. George had a crush on Harriet—or Harriet had one on George. Either way would be nice. Harriet needed male company. They were both good people. It would be nice if they cared for each other, and they seemed to.
Beth checked her makeup. She wanted to look good tonight. Russ had seen her in jeans and sweat suits, a rumpled dress she’d slept in…and nothing. Now, she wanted him to see her at her best. The ivory wool dress should do the trick. It was always good for a few exaggerated compliments.
“Do you suppose Russ would like some of that casserole I made this afternoon?”
Beth frowned. “I thought you made punch for the church social tonight?”
“Punch? Is that what I made? Huh? No wonder that casserole was so runny.”
“And so sweet.” Beth smiled at her aunt. The dear old woman was wonderful. Very confused at times, but a better soul had never lived.
The doorbell rang. Reaching for her purse, Beth pressed a kiss on Harriet’s forehead. “Don’t wait up. I might be very late coming home.”
“Be careful dear, and tell David I said hello.”
“Hope you don’t mind the Jeep,” Russ took her hand and helped her traverse the icy sidewalk.
“We could take my car if you like.”
“No, Dave will be bent out of shape if he comes home to a dead battery. I’d better drive his.”
“I don’t mind. It’ll be fun.”
He was helping her into the front seat when Jasper suddenly bounded out of nowhere, knocking Beth aside.
“Jasper!” Russ yelled.
The dog wiggled into the truck and turned to poke his head through the seat opening. He panted, drooling down the side of the seat, then reached over to lick Beth across the cheek. She winced, wiping her face with a sleeve. “Jasper!” she groaned.
Russ stuck his head in the door opening. “Sorry. I’ll have to put him in the utility room.”
Beth laughed. “I think he wants to go with us.”
“Yeah, and if wants were candy, and nuts were wishes, we’d all have a dandy Christmas.” He backed the Jeep quickly out of the drive and wheeled up beside David’s house. Getting out of the truck, he latched onto Jasper’s collar. “Come on, mutt.” The dog went stiff-legged, and Russ pulled him over the seat and up the sidewalk. Beth laughed at the comical sight. This was going to put Russ in a great mood. She’d have to remind him Jasper was a social dog. And it was the holiday season. Her knuckles were stuffed in her mouth. She had to gain control before Russ got back.
When he returned to the Jeep, he climbed in, drew a deep breath, and thrust his fingers through his tousled hair.
“That damned hound.”
Beth burst out laughing, but his stern look silenced her.
“Sorry.”
Leaning over, he kissed her. “Shall we start over? Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How does Italian sound?”
“Spaghettieschee.”
“I’ll take that as yes.”
The parking space was almost a half a block from the restaurant. He reached for her hand as they walked there, their heads bent against the cold wind. Red and green Christmas lights blinked from the rooftops, and the smell of wood smoke hung in the hair. A bell tinkled as they entered the restaurant’s small, warm foyer. Tempting aromas mingled, and all of a sudden, Beth was hungry.
Russ helped her off with her coat. “This is very nice,” she said, admiring the large blue spruce decorated in greens and blues. “Have you been here before?”
The hostess stepped forward, greeting Russ warmly. “Mr. Foster. So nice to see you again.”
“Obviously you have.” She gave him a sideways glance as they followed the waiter to their table.
Russ smiled. He had found the small Italian restaurant a week earlier while prowling the streets of Morning Sun. Quietly intimate, the bistro held no more than twenty people. To top off the warm, inviting atmosphere, the food was spicy and delicious.
The waiter seated them and handed each a menu.
Russ quickly scanned the selections. “The lasagna is great.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re a traditionalist?”
“How do you get that out of lasagna?”
“An adventurous palate would go for…oh, cannelloni or something unpronounceable.”
“Then consider me a traditionalist.”
“Then I am, too,” Beth stated, laying the paper menu aside.
“The house wine is dry, but very good. I think they have their own winery.”
“Wonderful. I like my wine dry.” Her eyes roamed the cozy interior. “How did you ever find this? I’ve lived in Morning Sun forever, yet, I’ve never been here before this evening.”
His gaze searched her face over candlelight. “Then I’m glad I found it, and I’m glad you’re here with me.” He reached for her hand, and she felt a small, flat package pressed into her palm.
“What’s this?”
“Just a little something I want you to have.”
“Russ, Christmas is three weeks away.” His gift was home under the tree.
“It’s not really a Christmas gift. It’s kind of like this place. I found it, and I want to share it with you.”
She slipped off the gold stretch tie and tore off the wrapping. Inside the box, lay a beautiful gold locket. The chain was actually two tiny, delicate interwoven strands, and the front of the locket was engraved with her initials in fancy script. “It’s beautiful, but you really…”
He lay a finger across her lips. “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have. I wanted to, and I did.” He got up to come around behind her and fasten the chain. Lifting her hair, he secured the locket, then kissed her lightly behind the ear. “There’s an inscription on the back of the locket.”
She held it out and turned it to the light. It read, “Love is timeless.”
She raised her brow in question.
“Well, I told them to engrave ‘Better ten years late, than never,’ but it wouldn’t fit.” He laughed and kissed her temple before returning to his seat.
If it were possible to freeze time, this was the moment. If only she never had to face the fact of his leaving. If only this had happened years ago when her life and his were not so complicated. If only. It seemed she lived her life in “if onlys” these days.
After dinner, instead of taking her home, Russ drove to his place. The door was hardly closed before they were in each other’s arms. Coats fell to the floor, shoes kicked aside. Beth’s dress lay in a heap in the middle of the living room along with his shirt. By the time they reached the bedroom they were delirious with desire. Russ drew her with him across the bed, their mouths fused in a heated kiss.
“Oopht!”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s something—”
Russ fumbled for the lamp. Beth sat up and flipped back the rumpled bedspread.
“Bones!”
A wide assortment of rawhide bones was buried in the middle of the double bed. Most were ragged and well chewed.
“Jasper,” Russ breathed, rolling to his back. “The dog’s got a grudge against me. He has to have a demonic brain to cause me so much grief.”
Laughter began deep inside Beth. She tried to swallow it, biting her lip until it hurt. She giggled, then totally lost it. Her sides jiggled, and she doubled over, her body shaking with mirth. The laughter was contagious, and Russ couldn’t keep from joining her. When one stopped laughing, the other continued. It must have been a full ten minutes before they both caught a breath and gained control.
“Well, so much for ‘the mood.’” She pulled a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her.
He went into the bathroom and recovered a towel to fasten around his waist. “Yeah—do you know how to make eggnog?”
“Of course I know how to make eggnog. Doesn’t everybody?”
“I wouldn’t have a clue.”
Taking his hand, she led him into his kitchen. While she whipped eggs and folded thick cream into the mixture, Russ dumped Jasper’s bones into the dog’s bed. “I hope he sleeps on these and wakes up with stiff joints.”
“Have a heart. Quit mumbling about Jasper. The eggnog’s ready.” She poured two large cups, sprinkled nutmeg on top, and set them on the hearth where he stoked the fire.
“Let me help you with your sheet, Miss Davis.” He cupped her shoulders and eased his thumbs over the folds holding the material in place. “You’ll be much more comfortable without this.” The covering slipped down the length of her body to the floor.
His kiss was gentle, and Beth eased the towel from his waist
“Your eggnog’s getting warm,” she teased.
“Who cares? We can drink it now…or later.”
“Now…and later?”
Hand in hand, they went into the living room and sat snuggled together on the rug next to the fireplace.
They watched blue-and-yellow flames lick the logs. She sipped from her cup, and sometimes he held his mug to her lips and they both drank, cheeks touching. He pulled her to face him, and they lay back quietly, the heat from the fire increasing awareness of every nerve in their bodies.
“I’ve wanted you like this all night,” he whispered. “All through dinner, I thought about you here, in my arms.”
Those weren’t exactly her thoughts, but if she really analyzed what she wanted, that about sum
med it up for her, too.
He kissed her again, and this time, she forgot to analyze, or worry about the future, or to think about anything, for that matter. Anything except the pleasure of loving, and being loved. The embers burned low, and neither noticed the cold. It was long past midnight when Russ kissed her good-night at her door.
* * *
A RINGING PHONE jolted Russ from a deep sleep. Fumbling for the receiver, he answered, “Yeah?”
He shot to a sitting position and glanced at the bedside clock. It was 3:00 a.m. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine now. Almost back to normal. No, there’s no problem.”
What was he saying? Yes, there was a problem. And it didn’t have a thing to do with his injury. The problem was his heart, not his leg. He listened to the voice on the other end, mentally rejecting the summons. Washington? Immediately? He groaned.
“I’m not due until after the first of the year,” he reminded the caller.
A moment later he hung up. They needed him. Never, since he went to work for the government, had he failed to be there when he’d been called. He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes, trying to assimilate the summons. Beth. He thought he had more time with her. He needed more time. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t catch the first flight out in the morning. But he had to. There was no choice in the matter.
Rolling out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweats, then stepped into his running shoes. The clock blinked 3:12 when he let himself out the back door.
Two houses down, Beth struggled to come awake when she heard sleet hitting her window. More bad weather. Just what Morning Sun needed, another layer of ice. Rolling to her side, she burrowed deeper into the blankets.
Ice peppered the window. Or was that hail? Or rocks? Rocks! She opened an eye, then jumped up, and crossed the room, shivering.
Stones splattered on the window.
She pressed her face to the frosted pane, startled. A figure clung to a ladder propped against the sill. Russ? She flipped the lock and struggled to push up the window, then the storm sash. “What are you doing?”
“We need to talk.”
“Now? Three o’clock in the morning?”
“Sorry about the time, but it can’t wait until morning.” He cleared the sill and closed the window behind him.
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