“Plenty. You loved me then, and you love me now.”
“You’ve got some nerve, Charles Tomaselli.” She glowered fiercely, hoping he’d back off. “What makes you so sure I’m in love with you now?”
“I know you better than you realize.”
“What nonsense!” She managed a light laugh. “You don’t know me at all, otherwise you—” She stopped abruptly.
“Otherwise what?”
“Nothing.” Otherwise he wouldn’t have believed the things she’d told him.
“Don’t you think it’s time we stopped playing games with each other?” he suggested.
“What games?” she snapped. “I gave those up years ago.”
Charles frowned as though he wasn’t sure he should believe her.
Hurt and angry, Steffie raised her hand and pointed at him. “That’s the reason I refuse to marry you,” she cried. Restraining the emotion was next to impossible and her voice quavered with the force of it. “I suppose I should be flattered that you’re willing to take me off Dad’s hands,” she said sarcastically. “Every woman dreams of hearing such romantic words. But I want far more in a husband, Charles Tomaselli, than you’d ever be capable of giving me!”
“What do you mean by that?” Before she had a chance to reply he muttered, “Oh, I get it. You’re afraid I’m going to be financially strapped with the newspaper, aren’t you? You think I won’t be able to afford you.”
Steffie was stunned by his remark. Stunned and insulted. “You know me so well, don’t you?” she asked him, her voice heavy with scorn. “There’s just no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there?” She drew in a deep breath. “I think it would be best if you left.” She walked across the kitchen and held open the back door. “Right now.”
Charles shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to leave.” He pulled out a chair and threw himself down. “We’re going to talk this out, once and for all,” he told her.
“You’re too stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“We’d make a terrible couple.”
“We make a good team.”
Steffie didn’t know why she was fighting him so hard—especially when he was saying all the things she’d always dreamed of hearing.
“I realize I’ve made some mistakes with this,” he said slowly. “It might have sounded callous, offering to marry you the way I did.”
“I’ll admit that taking me off Dad’s hands does lack a certain romantic flair,” she agreed wryly. She crossed over to the counter for a coffee mug, filling it from the pot next to the stove. If they were going to talk seriously, without hurling accusations at each other, she was going to need it.
“I was angry.”
“Then why’d you come here?” she asked, claiming the chair across from him.
“Because,” he answered in a tight, angry voice, “I was afraid I’d lose you again.”
“Lose me?” That made no sense to Steffie.
“You heard me,” he growled. “I was afraid you’d return to Italy or take off on a safari, or go someplace equally inaccessible.”
“Portland. I’m moving to Portland, but it isn’t because of what happened with you. I intended to do that from the moment I got home.” She folded her hands around the hot mug. “Why should you care where I go?”
“Because I didn’t want you leaving again.”
“Why do you want me to stay, especially if you believe the things I told you yesterday?”
His eyes held hers. “I don’t believe them.”
“You gave a good impression of it earlier,” she reminded him. A fresh wave of pain assaulted her and she looked away.
“That’s because I was furious.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
“No, it hasn’t,” he agreed, “but the simple fact is I don’t want you to leave again.”
“Unfortunately you don’t have any say in what I do.”
Charles frowned. “Now you’re angry.”
“You’re right about that! Did you really think I was so desperate for a husband I’d accept your insulting offer? Is that what you think of me, Charles?”
“No!” he shouted. “I’m in love with you, dammit! I have been for years. I had to do something to keep you here. I don’t want to wait another three years for you to come to your senses.”
His words were followed by silence. Steffie stared down into her coffee, and to her chagrin felt tears well up in her eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you.”
Charles stood abruptly and walked to the window again. Hands clasped behind his back, he gazed outside. “It’s true.”
“It couldn’t be.” She wiped the tears from her face. “You were so…so…”
“Cruel,” he supplied. “You’ll never understand how hard it was not to make love to you that first time in the stable. I’ve never been more tempted by any woman.”
“I…tempted you?” Her voice was low and incredulous.
He turned around and smiled, but it was a sad smile, one full of doubts and regrets. “I remember when you started hanging around the newspaper office. I was flattered by the attention. Soon I found myself looking forward to the times you came by. You were witty and generous and you always had an intelligent comment about something in the paper. I quickly discovered you were much more than a pretty face.”
“I never worked harder in my life to impress anyone,” she murmured with self-deprecating humor.
But it didn’t take Steffie long to get back to the point. “If that was how you felt, then why did you ask me not to come around anymore?”
“I had to say something before I gave in and threw caution to the wind. You’d recently lost your mother and you were young, naive and terribly vulnerable. I struggled with my conscience for weeks, trying to decide what I should do about you. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m six years older than you. That made a big difference.”
“The gap in our ages hasn’t narrowed.”
“True enough, but you’re not a girl anymore.”
“I was twenty-two,” she argued. “At least by the time I left.”
“Perhaps, but you’d been pretty sheltered. And you were still dealing with your grief. Your entire life had been jolted, and I couldn’t be sure if what you felt for me was love or adolescent infatuation.”
Steffie closed her eyes and let the warmth of his words revive her. “It was love,” she told him. A love that had matured, grown more intense, in the years that separated them.
“It probably doesn’t mean much to you now, but I want you to know how hard it was for me the night I came home and found you in my bathtub.”
“But you were so angry.”
“It was either that or take you into my room and make love to you.”
Steffie still felt confused. “You laughed at me when I told you how I felt that day in the stable….”
“I know,” he said simply. Steffie heard the pain and remorse in his voice. “I’ve never had to do anything that’s cost me more. But I never dreamed you’d leave Orchard Valley.”
“What did you expect me to do? I couldn’t stay—that would’ve been impossible. So I did the only thing I could. I left.”
Charles’s hand reached for hers, twining their fingers together. “I’ll never forget the day I learned you’d gone to Europe. I felt as if I’d been hit by a bulldozer.”
“I had to go,” she repeated unnecessarily. “It was too painful to stay.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “I know.” Slowly he raised her hand to his lips. “I’ve waited three long years to tell you how sorry I was to hurt you. Three years to tell you I was in love with you, too.”
Steffie attempted with little success to blink back the tears.
“If it had been at any other time in your life, if I could’ve been sure you weren’t just trying to replace your mother’s love with mine—then everything would’ve been different. But you were so young, so innocent. I couldn’t trust myself aro
und you, feeling the way I did.”
“And you couldn’t trust me.”
He nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry, Stephanie, for rejecting you. But it was as painful for me as it was for you. Perhaps more so, because I knew the whole truth.”
“You never wrote—not once in all that time. Not so much as a postcard. Not even an e-mail.”
“I couldn’t. I wanted to, but I didn’t dare give in to the impulse.”
“So you waited.”
“Not patiently. I expected you to come home at least once in three years, you know.”
“I dreaded seeing you again. I was thousands of miles away from you and yet I still loved you, I still dreamed about you. It didn’t seem to get any better. Even after three years.”
“A few weeks ago, you’d finished your classes and you were in the process of deciding if you were going to stay on in Italy.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Your father. He was the only way I had of getting information about you, and I used him shamelessly.”
“He told me you started coming by for visits shortly after I left.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t figure out how I felt about you. I don’t think I could have been any more obvious if I’d tried.”
“Dad didn’t have a clue until recently and then only because of the—” She stopped when she realized what she was about to tell him.
“Of what?” Charles prodded.
“I…it would be best if you let Dad explain that part.”
“All right, I will.” He looked away from her momentarily. “Although you never seriously dated anyone, there was someone in Italy, wasn’t there? A man you cared about?”
“Who?” Steffie frowned in bewilderment.
“A man named Mario?”
“Mario…a man?” He was four now, and the delight of her heart while she’d lived in Italy.
“He caused me several sleepless nights. Your father only mentioned him once. Said you ‘adored’ him. I went through agonies trying to be subtle about getting information on this guy, but your father never brought him up again.”
“Mario,” Steffie repeated, smiling broadly. “Yes, I did adore him.”
Charles scowled. “What happened?”
Still smiling, Steffie said, “There was a slight discrepancy in our ages. I’m more than twenty years older.”
“He’s a kid.”
“But what a kid. My landlady’s son. I was crazy about him.” Spending time with a loving, open child like Mario had helped her through a difficult period in her life.
“I see.” A slow, easy smile slipped into place. “So you like children.”
“Oh, yes, I always have.”
“I hope that young man appreciates everything he put me through.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t, but I certainly do. I know what it’s like to love someone and have that someone not love you.”
Charles considered her words for a moment. “I’ve always loved you, Stephanie, but I didn’t dare let you know. I couldn’t trust what we felt for each other then—but I can now.”
She avoided his gaze. She had to ask, although she was afraid to. “If that’s true, why were you so angry when Dad suggested we get married?”
Charles sighed. “Frustration, I guess. I’d intended to propose the night we went for dinner. I had everything planned, down to the last detail.”
“But why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t, not when the past still came between us. You made it clear you didn’t want to discuss our misunderstandings. So my hands were tied. I hate to admit it, but I was nervous—even if you didn’t seem to notice.”
“I made it one of my wishes—I didn’t want to talk about the past,” she recalled, experiencing an instant twinge of regret.
“And I had to go along with it,” he said.
“That still doesn’t explain why you were so offended when Dad suggested we marry.” His reaction was a mystery in light of the things he was telling her now.
“A man prefers to propose himself,” Charles offered as a simple explanation. “I don’t think I could’ve made my intentions any plainer if I’d hired a skywriter. Then to have first your father and then you—”
“Me?”
“Yesterday I suddenly felt so afraid that you weren’t lying about why you’d stopped by the house. To deliver the finishing blow, to get me to admit I loved you and then laugh at me…”
“I—I made that part up! I was so mad—”
“You were mad?”
“I know, I know. It’s just that I had to say something. I didn’t think you’d believe all those ridiculous lies, and then you seemed to and that made everything a thousand times worse. I was just beginning to hope we might have a future together.”
“I was, too. That’s why it hit me so hard.”
“I could never intentionally hurt you, Charles. Not without hurting myself.”
His eyes held hers, and everything around Steffie faded into insignificance. She was on the verge of disclosing her love when there was a knock at the kitchen door, followed by her father poking his head inside. “Is it safe yet? You two looked like time bombs about to explode twenty minutes ago.”
“It’s safe,” Charles answered, smiling at Steffie.
“I hope you’ve got everything worked out because I’m tired of waiting. The way I figure it, you should be married by the end of the summer. Your oldest—”
“Dad,” Steffie cut in. “I don’t think Charles is interested in discussing it right now. Why don’t you leave all of that to us?”
“Our oldest?” Charles asked, frowning.
“Child, of course. A girl, then a son and then another daughter. Sweethearts, all three of them. The boy will be the spitting image of you, Charles—same dark brown eyes, same facial features.”
Charles glanced at Steffie as though he was questioning her father’s sanity.
“I think you’d better tell Charles about the dream, Dad.”
“You mean you haven’t?” He sounded surprised.
“No, I didn’t want to frighten him out of marrying into the family.”
“What’s going on here?” Charles’s eyes roved from Steffie to her father and back.
“You may have trouble accepting this,” David said, pulling out a chair and settling himself. He grinned, happy as Steffie could ever remember seeing him. “But I got a glimpse of the future. It was a gift from Grace. She wanted to be sure I had a reason to live and so she—”
“But isn’t Grace—”
“She’s in heaven, but then so was I, briefly. It was what they call a near-death experience. You can ask Colby if you want.”
“Colby?” Charles repeated.
“I’m not convinced he believes me one hundred percent, but time will prove me right. Look at what’s happened with Valerie and Colby, just like I said it would. And with you two. You’re going to marry this little girl of mine, aren’t you?”
“In a heartbeat,” Charles confirmed.
Her father’s grin practically split his face. “That’s what I was counting on. You love him, don’t you, Princess?”
Steffie nodded. “More than I thought possible,” she said in a hushed voice.
David smiled knowingly and stood up from his chair. “In that case, I’ll leave you two to discuss the details of your wedding. I’d like to suggest midsummer, but as I said, I’ll leave that up to you.” He sauntered out of the room.
“Midsummer?” Steffie shrugged.
“Sounds good to me. Does that give you enough time?”
She laughed. “Sure, and I’ll be able to register for my courses, according to plan—if that’s okay with you?” At his enthusiastic agreement, she added, “Uh…what do you think about Dad’s dream?”
“A boy and two girls, he says.”
Steffie nodded shyly.
“How do you feel about that?” he asked.
“Good, very good.”
Charles reached for
her then, taking her in his arms with the strength of a man who’d been too long without love. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and breathed deeply. “I nearly lost you for the second time.”
“You’d never have lost me, Charles. I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t know how not to love you.”
“I love you, too, Stephanie. Give me a chance to prove it.”
In her eyes, he’d proved it when he hadn’t laughed at her father’s dream. She knew what he was thinking, perhaps because she was thinking the same thing herself. They were in love and had already decided to marry, so it didn’t matter what her father had predicted after his supposed sojourn in the afterlife. It was the course they’d willingly set for themselves.
He kissed her then, and her heart seemed to overflow with love, just as her eyes overflowed with tears.
“Stephanie,” Charles whispered, his lips against hers. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
“It’ll take at least fifty years, won’t it?”
“At the very least,” he murmured, kissing her again with a need that left her breathless.
David Bloomfield relaxed in his rocker on the front porch, his smile one of utter contentment. It was all coming to pass, just as he’d known it would. Just as Grace had told him. First Valerie, and now Steffie. His grin widened.
My goodness, he thought. Norah’s in for one heck of a surprise.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5599-3
ORCHARD VALLEY GROOMS
Copyright © 2010 by MIRA Books.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:
VALERIE
Copyright © 1992 by Debbie Macomber.
STEPHANIE
Copyright © 1992 by Debbie Macomber.
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 publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Orchard Valley Grooms Page 28