“I did.” His mouth curved with a humorless smile. “Three times in the last three years. I swore to myself I’d get sober so I could help you through the treatments. The first time I lasted four weeks. The next time I made it for eleven whole months.”
“And the third time?” Alan asked.
“I’ve been clean and sober for almost two years. But I still want a drink every single day.” He looked at his hands. “I’m not sure I can make it, Alan. That’s why I never came to see you during your treatments. And why I almost didn’t come here tonight. I can’t stand the thought of letting you down.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m a weak man, Alan. And I’ve always believed a father should be strong for his son.”
“I didn’t need you to be strong.” Alan’s throat contracted. “I just needed you to be there for me. If you had just told me you loved me—that would have been enough.”
George looked at him. “I love you, son. I always have.”
Tears stung his eyes, and Alan realized how much it meant to hear the words spoken from the heart. Not flung out in anger, the way he’d said them to Rowena a short while ago.
Alan half rose from his chair to hug his father, but something held him back. Maybe all those years of distance between them. He really didn’t know his father at all. But for the first time, he believed that someday he would. And when that day came, a hug would be as natural as breathing.
“So if you didn’t come to Cooper’s Corner to see me,” George said, rapidly blinking back the tears gleaming in his eyes, “why are you here?”
He swallowed a sigh. “It’s a long story, Dad.”
“I’d like to hear it,” George said evenly. “But only if you want to tell me.”
Alan hesitated, then leaned back in his chair. “Well, there’s this girl....”
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING, Rowena found herself jumping up every time the telephone rang. But instead of Alan, it was always one of her customers ready to fill her schedule once again. So much for her fears that Alan’s inquiries about selling her shop had driven customers away. Most of them told her they’d wanted to wait to make an appointment to be certain she was fully recovered from her ordeal.
When the doorbell rang shortly after ten o’clock, her heart leaped in her chest. She hurried toward the door, telling herself not to get her hopes up. After the way she’d treated Alan on Saturday, he’d probably never come back.
Maureen stood on the other side of the door. She took one look at Rowena’s face and frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” Rowena forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She didn’t want to burden her friend any more. This was one problem she had to handle on her own. “It’s nice to see you. Come on in.”
“I can’t stay long,” Maureen told her, wiping her boots on the floor mat. “But I wanted to stop by because I finally have some news about Max Heller.”
Rowena took her coat. “Good news, I hope.”
“Unexpected news, anyway,” Maureen replied, then turned to face her. “He passed away a month ago, Rowena.”
She blinked in surprise. “But the letters...”
“Why don’t you sit down,” Maureen suggested, “and I’ll tell you everything.”
Rowena walked to the sofa, her mind spinning. This didn’t make sense. If Max was dead, who had sent those letters? And why?
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Maureen asked. “How is the baby?”
“We’re both fine,” Rowena assured her, even though it wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t been fine since Alan walked out the door. The problem was, she didn’t know how to get him back. Or if she should try. She kept waffling back and forth. Missing him terribly one moment and telling herself it was for the best the next.
Rowena settled back against the sofa. “Now tell me about Max.”
Maureen grew solemn. “He died of a drug overdose, Rowena. Apparently, he’s had a heavy cocaine and methamphetamine habit for several years.”
Rowena frowned in confusion. “He never touched drugs when I knew him. But if he’s dead, where did those letters come from?”
“My friend at the NYPD traced them to Max’s mother.” Maureen leaned forward. “She was devastated by his sudden death, Rowena. When the police confronted her about the letters, she broke down and told them Max began using drugs shortly after you broke up with him. She blamed you when his life started falling apart. After his funeral, she began sorting through his personal belongings and found letters he’d never sent to you.”
“But how did she know where to find me?”
“Mrs. Heller contacted the producer of Another Dawn on the pretext of notifying you about Max’s death. Her plan was to send you one letter a week. I still don’t quite understand why.”
“To make me pay for hurting her son,” Rowena breathed.
“Are you all right?” Maureen asked softly.
She nodded. “I will be. In fact, part of me understands Mrs. Heller. She loved her son so much, despite his flaws. That’s how a mother is supposed to feel, isn’t it?”
“Not if it ultimately hurts someone else,” Maureen replied. “Mrs. Heller wouldn’t allow herself to see the fact that her son had serious problems, so instead she blamed you for his death.”
“I still feel sorry for her.”
“I know.” Maureen folded her hands together in her lap. “Mrs. Heller isn’t going to bother you anymore, Rowena. She turned over the rest of the unsent letters to the police and agreed to see a grief counselor.”
“I hope she gets the help she needs,” Rowena murmured. “Thank you for coming here and telling me about Max.”
“You’re welcome.” Maureen stood to take her leave. “There’s something else. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but I thought you might want to know.”
Rowena rose to her feet. “What?”
“Alan Rand checked out of Twin Oaks early yesterday morning and headed for Toronto.”
Despair settled into the pit of her stomach. “He did?”
Maureen nodded. “He definitely wasn’t himself, Rowena. I take it something happened between the two of you?”
Rowena bit her lip to keep it from quivering. “He asked me to marry him.”
“And you turned him down?” Maureen ventured.
She nodded. “Only now I’m not quite sure why. I found a letter from Max, or rather his mother, in the kitchen drawer. Alan hid it from me while I was confined to bed. He told me he did it to shield me from more stress.”
Maureen slowly nodded. “I might have done the same thing under the circumstances.”
That didn’t make her feel any better. “He was also asking around town about the fair market price for my barbershop.”
Maureen frowned. “You’re moving?”
“No.” Rowena turned and walked to the window, staring out at the snowy brightness. “We talked about my living in Toronto after the baby was born, but nothing was ever settled. So when I found the letter and got the telephone call, it upset me. I accused him of trying to control my life.”
“Like Max,” Maureen said.
“No.” Rowena turned to face her. “Alan is nothing like Max. He tried to tell me that, but I wouldn’t listen. Max wanted power over me. If I defied him, he’d try to find some way to hurt or humiliate me—all in the name of love. Max told me a hundred times over how much he loved me.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “That’s what’s so ridiculous.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I told Alan I couldn’t marry him because he never said the words I love you. Words Max had said constantly, but never really meant.”
Rowena closed her eyes, remembering the pain she’d seen in Alan’s eyes. “I never should have compared him to Max. It was so unfair. I know in my
heart that everything that Alan did, he did because he cares about me. About my happiness. Two men could never be more different.”
Maureen moved to her. “So tell Alan how you really feel.”
Rowena shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“Last time I checked, love didn’t have an expiration date.” Maureen reached for Rowena’s hands, clasping them in hers. “If you lose Alan because of what happened in your past, then you’re still allowing Max to control you.”
Rowena blinked at her friend as the truth of her words sunk in. “You’re right.” Hope glimmered like a faraway star. “But how can I ever be certain Alan wants me for me alone?” she asked. “Not just because of the baby?”
“I don’t know the answer to that,” Maureen replied. “You may never find out. So you have to decide if Alan is worth the risk.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TWO DAYS LATER, Rowena opened the front door to retrieve her newspaper off the stoop. A creaking sound made her turn, and she saw Alan sitting on her porch swing. Her heart skipped a beat, and a dozen emotions skittered through her as she met his enigmatic gaze.
“Hello,” he said, rising from the swing, his ears red from the cold.
He sounded cordial enough, but she could feel the tension coiled between them. Remembered the hurtful words they’d exchanged. She pulled her robe more tightly around her, not certain she could stand to hear his voice raised in anger again. Or bear to see the raw pain in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked at last. “I thought you went back to Toronto.”
“I did.” He rose from the swing. “But I came back because I think we need to talk.”
“It’s only seven o’clock in the morning.” She couldn’t help staring at him. Feasting her gaze on his handsome face. He’d only been gone for four days, but it had seemed like an eternity.
Especially when she’d kept replaying their break up over and over in her mind, wincing at some of the things she’d said.
“I can come back later if you want.”
“If it’s about the baby,” she began, her body trembling, but not from the cold, “I’ve already talked to my lawyer and told him I want us to share joint custody. I think my baby will be lucky to have you as a father, Alan.”
“I hope so.”
An awkward silence settled between them. Rowena had to force herself not to reach out and smooth his rumpled hair. She had no right to touch him anymore.
Then Alan’s gaze skimmed from her face to her slippered feet. “You look cold.”
“Why are you here?” she asked, unable to stand the suspense any longer.
“To keep a promise.” He held out a small lavender gift bag, the top secured by an iridescent white ribbon.
She hesitated, then took it from him, almost afraid to open it. “I don’t understand.”
“Go ahead and open it,” he prodded, stuffing his bare hands in his coat pockets, “and I think you will.”
She hesitated, then took it from him, staring at the shiny ribbon adorning the gift bag. Rowena had never considered herself a coward, but she was suddenly terrified. Was this some kind of peace offering? She loved him so much. But could she let him back into her life when doubts still lingered? If it didn’t work out between them, she knew it could completely destroy her.
“I am not leaving here, Rowena Dahl,” Alan vowed, obviously sensing her apprehension, “until you open that bag and see what’s inside.”
Rowena knew he was just stubborn enough to do it. They’d both die of hypothermia if she delayed any longer. Steeling herself against the tidal wave of uncertainty that threatened to engulf her, she tore off the ribbon and opened the bag.
“What is this all about, Alan?” she asked, slowly lifting her head to look at him.
“It’s about keeping a promise.”
Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a stuffed purple giraffe. “I thought they’d sold the last one at the store.”
“They did.”
“Then where did you find this one?”
“San Francisco.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “How?”
A nervous smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. For a moment he looked more like a boy than a formidable man. “I asked Philo Cooper for the name of the distributor for that brand of stuffed animals. Then I called that guy, who told me he was sold out of them. But he gave me the name of the company that produced the giraffes. They faxed me a list of stores that carried their products.” He gave a small shrug. “I just called around until I found one.”
He made it sound so simple, but she knew it must have taken him hours to track it down. “I can’t believe it.”
“See,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching, “some of us controlling types can use our powers for good. I started looking for another giraffe the day after you were released from the hospital. I would have told you, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”
She clutched the giraffe to her chest, feeling a ridiculous urge to cry. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I do.” He moved closer to her. “Give me another chance. I love you, Rowena.”
Part of her feared this was all a fantastic dream. Feared she’d wake up to face the same emptiness that had engulfed her when he’d walked out the door last Saturday.
His gaze softened as it caressed her face. “And I want to prove it to you.”
Rowena swallowed, her throat tight. She’d accused Max of wanting to wrap her in a cocoon and protect her from the world. But wasn’t she doing the same thing to herself? Alan Rand loved her. Not just with words, but with deeds. Clearing the icy patch off her sidewalk. Holding her and encouraging her when she went into premature labor. Feeding her tapioca pudding. Drawing her a bath. Tracking down a stuffed giraffe at the opposite end of the country.
“You don’t have to prove it to me, Alan. You already have—in a million different ways.” Her breath came out in little puffs of frosty air. “I’m so sorry, Alan. I never should have compared you to Max. You are nothing like him.”
He moved another step closer to her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered, her heart beating double time in her chest. The fear inside her evolved into apprehension that she’d say or do the wrong thing, and shatter this fragile harmony between them. But the compassion she saw in his brown eyes gave her a glimmer of hope.
“I never want you to wonder if I only proposed to you because of the baby.”
“Alan,” she interjected, but he held up a hand to forestall her.
He knew this was his one chance. If he blew it now, he might never get another. He hadn’t slept for the last three nights, worried he was about to make a mistake he’d regret forever. But at this moment, he knew down deep in his very soul that it was the right thing to do. “I have something else for you.”
He pulled a legal envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“What is this?”
He sucked in a deep breath of cold air. “A reason you can trust me.”
She opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper he’d asked Brad to prepare for him. His friend had argued with him endlessly and almost refused to do it. But Alan had insisted.
Small snowdrifts filled the corners of the porch, and icicles hung from the eaves of the roof. He’d counted every one of them this morning while the sun had come up and he’d waited for her to appear. It had kept him from ceaseless worrying about how she’d react when she saw him on her swing.
She flipped through the sheaf of papers in her hand, and her gaze skipped rapidly over the lengthy paragraphs. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s a legal document, signed and notarized. I’m surrendering my rights to the baby.”
&nb
sp; She stared at him. “But, Alan...”
“I love you, Rowena,” he interjected before she could continue. “But even more, I trust you to make the right decision for our baby.” He cleared his throat. “I won’t say it was easy for me. In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
“Then why did you?” she breathed.
“Because I know one thing for certain,” he said huskily. “No matter what happens, our child will be much better off if we’re friends instead of enemies.”
Tears flooded her amethyst eyes. “I want to be more than friends, Alan. I want to be your lover. And more than anything, I want to be your wife.”
His heart leaped. “Then you’ll marry me?”
“Yes.” She smiled as the tears spilled from her eyes. “Any day you want.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and saying a silent prayer of thanks. Then he kissed her, trying to convey the depth of his love and passion.
At last, he lifted his head to see the tears on her rosy cheeks sparkling with tiny ice crystals from the cold. Circling his arm around her waist, he turned them both toward the door. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”
“Wait a minute,” she replied, holding back. “I have a present for you, too.”
His arm dropped away as he looked at her in surprise. “You do?”
She nodded, then took the notarized release he’d just given her and ripped it in two. He watched in astonishment as she tore it again and again, until the tiny shreds of paper were dotting the concrete porch like giant snowflakes.
Alan couldn’t believe his eyes. “Rowena, what are you doing?”
“Showing you how much I trust you.” She moved into his arms. “But there’s more.”
He wasn’t certain his heart could take much more. It was so full he was afraid it might burst. Watching her tear up that release had touched something inside his soul. He knew beyond any doubt that he’d done the right thing.
She took his hand and pulled him into the house. Then she picked up a packet on the coffee table and placed it in his hands.
“An airline ticket,” he said, slightly confused.
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