A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming (The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Book 4)

by Caroline Lee

  Her chin came up then. “Oh, like you haven’t been in love before? Like you’ve never touched another woman?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he started to protest, but she cut him off. “Where did you sleep last night? No, you don’t have to tell me, but it was… you were with a woman, weren’t you?”

  “I haven’t thought about touching another woman since I found you again.” And that was God’s truth.

  “Before then, though? You’ve been with other women?”

  “I wasn’t in love with them, Wendy. You said you fell in love in St. Louis. Who else have you been in love with?”

  “I was wrong.” When her shoulders slumped and she sunk down to perch on the edge of the couch, he felt like a jerk. “That wasn’t love, Nate. That was… false words and flattery and naiveté and manipulation. Love requires both parties to care for the other. It isn’t love if it’s all one-sided. But of course I didn’t know it was one-sided…”

  She drew a deep breath and, straightening her back, fixed her gaze on the tree, rather than him. “I went to St. Louis thinking I knew what I wanted. Thinking I could live on my own with no one to help or care for me. I thought I knew what was best. And then… And then I realized that I was a fool, and I couldn’t come home, and…” With a start, Nate realized that there were tear-tracks on her cheeks, and he was beside her before he felt himself move. “And I deserved every moment of my banishment.”

  He’d never seen another human being look as desolate as she did at that moment. Weeping, but refusing to crumple. She was too tough, too determined to let herself give into despair. Despite his frustration, Nate was gentle when he turned her chin, forcing her to see him. Really see him. “You think you were foolish for falling in love?”

  “I do. I believed him!”

  Ah. It was beginning to make sense. Some slick city bastard had oiled his way into her heart with his false promises, and Nate had a pretty good idea who it had been. “This was last summer? When you stopped writing me?”

  “I thought…” She pulled away from him with a sigh, and pulling off her glasses, pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. “I thought we were in love, and it would be better for you if I just dropped out of your life.” It was like she couldn’t look at him, and fixed her gaze on her lap, her back ramrod-straight. “But then I let myself be duped, and I was so ashamed, and I knew I couldn’t bring that shame home to you and my family.”

  She wasn’t the first woman to be tricked by a honeyed tongue and a handsome face. “It was Steven, wasn’t it?” She stared down at her hands, fingers twisted around the metal frames. “I hated him from the first time I read his name, in your last letter. I didn’t trust him.”

  “I was the one you couldn’t trust, Nate.” She took a shuddering breath, and two more tears dripped off her nose to land on her lap. “He was everything I thought a Hero should be, but he was the Villain, and I fell for his lies.” He placed a hand on top of hers, and slowly twined his fingers through hers. He didn’t know what to say.

  Turning tear-filled eyes to him, Wendy said. “Do you understand why I begged you to stop, that night in the Blakelys’ foyer? Because he was right.”

  It seemed to Nate that there was suddenly a thick band around his chest. It was hard to breathe. “Right about what?”

  “Don’t you see, Nate?” She swallowed, and pulled her hand from his. “I am a whore.”

  His mind went numb. Steven was a complete and utter bastard. He’d gotten off lightly when Nate beat him half to death; he deserved twice that. Nate wished he’d killed the son of a bitch when he’d had the chance. “He…?”

  “He seduced me. I invited him to my bed.” Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose again. “Whatever euphemism you want to use; I had intercourse with him.”

  She sighed and dropped her hand again, and turned away from him. Her voice sounded strained, like she was striving for nonchalance and failing, when she confessed, “And I liked it. Very much, which is why it kept happening. I was a whore.”

  He wasn’t sure what he should be feeling. He knew that he should be angry to hear her use that word about herself, but all he saw was the woman he loved in pain, and he wanted to comfort her.

  “I thought he loved me, that he would marry me. But when I confronted him, he laughed, and told me that he was engaged already. I’d just been a… a diversion for him.”

  Ah. Now he knew how to feel. Anger, white-hot, coursed through him.

  Nate cursed. And then, since it felt so good, he cursed again. Steven had turned her into a wh—no, he wouldn’t say it. She was nothing like Eve, like his mother. He wondered if they’d been put on the path to prostitution by a handsome face spouting fake words of love, and cursed some more. He stood up and paced to the fireplace, still cursing, and kicked the hearth a few times. It didn’t hurt enough to punch through his anger.

  “I’m sorry, Nate. Now you see why…”

  He swung on her then, no longer trying to keep his voice down. “It doesn’t matter, Wendy. Steven’s lies don’t change who you are.”

  “Oh, no. No.” She looked down at her hands again, and suddenly, she looked so small. Not at all the strong woman he knew her to be. “That’s not the worst of it.” There was more? “That’s not…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “My shame.”

  Seeing her like this opened a pit of dread in Nate’s stomach. “Wendy? You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Don’t you see, Nate? You told me that you love me, and you know that I love you. But you deserve to hear the worst of it.” He gripped the mantel, willing himself to calm and listen. He did love her, and if he had any hope of convincing her that they belonged together, he had to hear this. He had to hear this, and then persuade her that it didn’t matter.

  She took a deep breath, but still didn’t look at him. “About a week after I’d ended our assignation, I discovered that I… I was pregnant.”

  Thank God he was holding onto the mantel, because Nate’s knees suddenly refused to support him. She had a baby?

  “I confronted him, and he…” Her voice cracked. He watched her squeeze her eyes shut, and felt his heart break for her pain. “He told me it wasn’t his problem. That I was a whore who’d gotten herself ‘knocked up’, and I was on my own.”

  Nate had thought that his anger had cooled, but he was wrong. He found himself considering how quickly he could be on a train heading east again. He’d happily endure another few days of rail travel if it meant being able to kill Steven with his bare hands. The man deserved it.

  “I was so lost, Nate, so alone.” She turned a tear-streaked face to him, and Nate broke.

  He’d never seen Wendy like this; Wendy, who was normally so composed and brave. He’d never seen her so defeated, so empty. Without thinking, he jerked away from the mantel, and throwing himself in front of her, fell to his knees.

  Gripping her hands, he managed a choked “I should have been there.”

  She touched his cheek, still crying. “You might have been there, had I told you. But I’d cut you off because I thought I knew best, and then I was too ashamed to tell you the truth… It was my own fault that I had to face this alone.”

  Just like his mother had faced her pregnancy alone.

  “God, Wendy…” Nate pressed a kiss to her palm, and felt her fingers curl under his touch. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I prayed, Nate. I didn’t want the baby. I didn’t know what to do. I saw my life falling apart around me, and I didn’t want that future. I wished it away.” Oh God, if he could take this pain away from her, he would. He ached for her; what must it have been like for her, to face this catastrophe all alone? Nate gripped her hand harder, afraid that he was hurting her, but not wanting to let her go. Never wanting to let her go.

  “I prayed it had never happened, and I’d wake up one day and I wouldn’t be pregnant.” Was this how his mother had felt when he’d been conceived?

  She took another shudderingly deep breath, and looked straight into his
soul. “And one day I woke up, and I wasn’t.” What? Nate didn’t understand at first, and Wendy continued. “I’d lost the baby. I hadn’t wanted it, desperately hadn’t wanted it, and now it was gone. I prayed for my baby’s death. And it worked.”

  She’d lost the baby. She wasn’t pregnant, hadn’t birthed Steven’s bastard. How many other women had been in this exact situation, had prayed to be saved from a future of shame and scorn and poverty? Had his mother? Had his own mother prayed for his death, and been devastated when God hadn’t taken him from her?

  Nate’s stomach heaved, and he suddenly felt light-headed. She’d lost the baby, and had a second chance at the life she was meant to live. But she’d gained that chance at the expense of a child so much like him that he ached. He ached for her pain, and her child, and his own mother.

  His expression must have looked as nauseated as he felt, because she leaned towards him, as if trying to make him understand. “Do you see now, Nate? Why I couldn’t face my family, face you, after that?”

  He found his voice. “You don’t honestly think you caused your baby’s” he managed not to choke out the word, “death by praying, do you? Hell, if that worked, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

  Those gorgeous deep blue eyes widened, and he watched more sadness enter them. He winced, sorry that he’d compared himself to her child. “I’m sorry, Wendy. I shouldn’t have…”

  “No.” She touched his cheek again, and he leaned into her palm with her free hand. “If I could have had a son half as noble, and honest, and smart and kind as you, Nate, I would have gladly had that child. And loved him, because I’ve known you.”

  It was the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone had ever said to him. He wanted to tell her that, and as soon as he could make his throat work again, he would.

  “I wasn’t thinking about that then, though. And I didn’t have anyone to talk to. All I knew was that I was blessedly reprieved, and could continue my life as I’d wanted, but at the expense of my baby’s life. He or she had to die so that I could go on being a ‘good girl’.” Another shuddering breath, and she dropped her hand. Nate grabbed it as well, kneeling there before her like a suitor, desperate to make her feel better. “And I tried to. I didn’t let anyone know my shame, and I read your letters and accepted the pain they caused as my penance. I hoped that if I lived a good life, a quiet life, perhaps I might be forgiven. And then you arrived.”

  “I’m not sorry, Wendy.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Seeing you again, having you in my life after so long… it reminded me of what was important. It showed me that what I’d thought was True Love, what my characters felt for one another and what I thought I’d felt for Steven, wasn’t real. That was lust. In real life, True Love doesn’t hit you like a thunderbolt, or some other stupid analogy, when you see the other person. It takes time to build, to grow, to understand. It’s what I’ve felt for you since we were children together.”

  Nate took a deep breath, the first—it seemed—since she’d started her confession. “Yeah.”

  “And because I love you, I needed to tell you everything. And I…” She shut her eyes. “I understand if you can’t…”

  “I love you, Wendy. Your past doesn’t matter to me.”

  “It should.” She pierced him with her perfect blue eyes again. “Because you’re part of my past.”

  He swallowed. “I’d rather be part of your future.”

  “Oh, Nate.” Untangling her fingers from his, she reached out and traced his brow, his hairline. He shuddered slightly as her light touch skimmed the tops of his ears and down his neck. “You’re not allowed to say anything that wonderful, yet. You need time, time to think about and understand what I’ve just told you. Time to decide how you really feel about me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her middle then, pulling her towards him, and burying his face in her chest. She bent over his head, her arms wound around his neck. It might have been a sensual embrace, if it hadn’t felt so desperate. When they were kids, they’d been able to give and receive comfort this easily, easily borrowing one another’s strength as their own. And now, he tried to pour as much of his love, his passion, into this embrace, urging her to take it and make it her own.

  Their odd tableau in that dark parlor, with the Christmas tree twinkling behind him, seemed to last for an eternity.

  She loved him. She loved him. Right now, and in the future, that was all that mattered.

  A bit muffled, he finally spoke. “Nothing you’ve said changes anything, Wendy.”

  She straightened a bit. “It should. It should change everything.”

  “Nothing you could say would change how I feel about you.”

  “It should.”

  Pulling back far enough to see him, she placed one chaste kiss on his forehead. He wanted to pull her lips towards his and show her how he felt, but he refrained. He wanted to wipe out the memory of her past experiences with his own body, to teach her how beautiful things would be between them, to make her forget her pain and emptiness… but now wasn’t the time. Now, she didn’t believe him when he said that her confession hadn’t affected his love.

  He’d have to prove it to her.

  Gripping her spectacles, she stood then, pushing him aside gently when he remained kneeling in front of the couch. Her hand rested on his head, playing softly with his hair like some erotic benediction, and he closed his eyes on the sensation. “Thank you, Nate.” He barely heard her whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For listening. You’re the only person I’ve ever told. I knew it would be hard, but you…” He tilted his face towards hers, and she stroked one finger down her cheek. “I don’t feel as empty, somehow. Thank you.”

  I love you, Wendy. But his voice seemed to be stuck. All he could do was stare dumbly up at her and marvel at her strength.

  “Goodnight, Nate.”

  He found his voice. “’Night, Wendy. Merry Christmas.”

  Her lips curved into a smile then, welcome after so much despair. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? I’m finally home for Christmas, with my loved ones. With my friends. With you.”

  She was still smiling when she turned and slipped out of the parlor, and he listened to her footsteps on the stairs. It wasn’t the happiest of smiles, but at least she was no longer crying.

  Dropping his head to the crook of his elbow, Nate exhaled. How was he going to convince her that he still loved her? That her secret—what she saw as her shame—didn’t matter to him? He ached for her pain, and desperately wanted to punish Steven for using and abandoning her. But that was her past, and he had to come up with a way to get her to think about her future. Their future together.

  Well, he only had to look around the beautifully decorated parlor to remind himself that this was the season of miracles, the season of new beginnings. He needed a way to show her that together, they’d overcome their pasts, and sprawled there alone on the dark parlor rug, he had an idea that just might work.

  The tree sparkled in the moonlight, and Nate remembered what he’d thought when he’d first come into the room. That the tree represented the hopes and possibilities and magic of the season. Smiling slightly, he pulled himself up onto the couch, and flopped back to plan.

  With a little help from some of that Christmas magic, maybe he’d be able to convince Wendy that she was worthy of his love.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was Christmas morning! Wendy smiled before she’d even opened her eyes, enjoying the satisfaction of stretching under the thick blankets. After they’d moved with Molly to Cheyenne, and had been able to celebrate holidays again, Christmas morning had become all about anticipation. Pete, and later baby Noah, had taught Wendy that savoring anticipation was impossible to children, so Christmas morning had begun earlier. For the last three years, though, Christmas morning had been cold and formal.

  Today was going to be different.

  Thinking about her family reminded Wendy that she would see them today. Maybe th
ey were waiting for her right now! She scrambled out of the enveloping blankets, and steeled herself to face the cold air. Yesterday she would have said that she was dreading facing Molly again, knowing what pain she must have caused her sister. But last night, sharing her secret sin with Nate had been cathartic.

  Wendy took a deep breath. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel a knot of self-directed anger and white-hot shame sitting in the pit of her stomach. She felt empty, but also at peace. Like she’d been drained, and was ready to be filled up again, somehow. Had Nate done that for her? Had it been merely the act of telling someone, or was it something that he specifically had done? And after, after she’d told him everything, he seemed to still… care for her.

  She hadn’t lost his regard.

  But did he still love her? Could he still love someone like her? Because, even though she’d thought it impossible, she loved him even more than she had yesterday. Seeing his pain on her behalf, and his willingness to lend her his strength, had shown Wendy that he was a wonderful man. He was a man who deserved a better person than her, but she didn’t care; if he would have her, she’d spend the rest of her life trying to be worthy of his love.

  Suddenly anxious to see him—and her family—again, Wendy hurried through her morning ablutions, fluffing her hair with her fingers and pinching her cheeks for color. She looked—and felt—wan, but that was no surprise. It had been a stressful few weeks. It had been a stressful few years!

  But she was home again, for Christmas.

  There were noises coming from the front parlor, the room where she’d poured her heart out to Nate the night before. Swallowing, suddenly nervous, she pushed open the door, and saw her family for the first time in over three years.

  “Aunt Wendy!” Pete saw her first, and she was surprised that he still recognized her. But he barreled towards her, and she hunched and caught the sturdy seven-year-old when he threw himself into her arms. She buried her face in his hair and inhaled. He reminded her of Jeremy, and of home. Her heart simultaneously ached for what she’d lost, and rejoiced for what she’d found.