by Day Leclaire
Meg took a step backward, staring in confusion. "Just what in the blue blazes are you up to?"
"Do it. Give me your left hand."
The instant she complied, he slipped the ring on the fourth finger. He didn't give her a chance to protest, but started speaking. "I Alessandro Vittorio Salvatore, take thee, Margaret Mary Williams, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
"What are you doing, you crazy man?"
His jaw acquired a stubborn slant. “I'm marrying you. It may not be legally binding, but it joins us as far as I'm concerned. Now where was I? Oh, right. To love, honor and cherish until death do us part." For the first time, he felt a faint hesitancy. "It's your turn—assuming you want to marry me."
"Of course I want to marry you. How can you doubt it?"
Taking a deep breath, she repeated the vows in a voice at one with the mountains surrounding them. The minute she finished, he sealed their promise with a desperate kiss. The hell with it. He would stay, even though it meant leaving her bed long before daybreak in order to make his flight. If it gave them another few hours together, it would be worth it.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're my wife. You got that?" he demanded fiercely. "I’m not even going to say goodbye. Because this isn't a goodbye.”
A gentle breeze washed over them and the setting sun broke through the rich verdant canopy of the ancient oak, encircling them in its waning rays of light and warmth. Meg flung her arms wide in sheer joy and spun in a circle. Her hair spread around in a flowing, silken cape, the silvery highlights glittering like fairy dust. Dizzy, she tumbled into Alessandro's arms. And finally she looked at him.
"My husband," she whispered, her soft, powder-blue eyes brilliant with passion. "How I love you."
He was helpless to resist. He wanted her. Needed her.
He left her.
The following week was the most frustrating of Alessandro's life. He'd never realized how big Asheville was, or how many mountains surrounded it. Or how difficult it would be to find a woman who didn't want to be found. Even attempting to hire a private investigator had proven fruitless. It was the holidays and quite a few businesses had closed for the week. Those few who answered the phone, didn't have time to take on the job.
Strangely, the dreams had stopped. But he suspected that was because he understood them now, that he'd figured out what had happened during those missing two weeks and what he was supposed to remember. And still he searched, refusing to give up. Unable to give up.
His luck finally changed on New Year's Eve.
He'd taken to driving aimlessly around the outskirts of Asheville whenever he felt particularly dispirited. Nick, strapped into a car seat in the back, made life easier by considering the rides a treat. Cruising along a small back road, Alessandro continued a full mile past the restaurant before the name clicked in his head.
LuLu's.
Pulling the car to the side of the road, he made a cautious U-turn and returned to the diner. A Closed sign sat askew in the window. But he knew the place, could see brief flashes of images. Meg pausing by his table, a sassy grin on her face. Meg chatting with the regulars and asking after their families. Meg, her face sheet-white, begging for a ride to the hospital, her sister clutched in her arms.
"We found her, little buddy," he whispered to Nick. "We found your momma."
"Ma-ma," he repeated, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Not long now. I promise. Momma will be home soon."
Now all he had to do was utilize a bit of logic and reason. First, he'd try and find the owner of the diner and ask for directions to the Williams’s place. Or if that didn't work, he'd explore each road from here outward, progressing in a methodical search pattern. Or... He closed his eyes. Or he could go with his gut instincts, something he couldn't ever remember attempting before.
He didn't hesitate. Putting the car in gear, he exited the parking lot and started driving. Until that moment he'd never realized how difficult it was to not think. He had to pull over several times and clear his mind. Trying to force the memories flat-out didn't work. In the end, he made three wrong turns. But the instant he saw the little dirt road darting off the main drag, he knew he'd done it. He didn't even need the white sign that read "Williams"—a sign held by a combative family of stick elves—to tell him he'd found his way back home.
He eased along the winding drive, not rushing anymore. With every twist and dip more and more memories returned. Long walks through the forest. The picnic. The snowstorm that had stranded him at the cabin with Meg, while Lauren had been forced to stay with a friend in Asheville. Making love in front of the fireplace.
The woods surrounding the cabin were alive with stick figures of all sizes. Herds of deer peeked from behind bushes, creative birdhouses that looked like the birds they'd been designed to house clung to tree trunks, trolls and elves and dragons, skunks and raccoons and possum cavorted on top of fallen logs, in the crooks of trees, and along every ridge and hollow. He knew from having methodically counted his way through the woods that the "critters" numbered in the hundreds.
Pulling up to the front door of the cabin, he stared across the mountaintop. The trees were naked without their springtime apparel and he could just make out the ancient oak on the next hillside, its barren branches flung wide like a woman awaiting her absent lover's embrace. That's where he and Meg had consummated their relationship on the first day of spring, the place his son had been conceived. And that's where he and Meg had made the vows that bound them still. It was also where, he was willing to bet, he'd find a lovingly tended grave site. It would be adorned with masses of sleeping purple crocuses, the petite flowers awaiting spring's rebirth to lift their cups of hope heavenward in prayerful supplication.
He turned toward Nick, shaking his head when he realized his son had fallen sound asleep. Perhaps it was for the best. This would give him an opportunity to talk to his "wife" in private. Gently, he unstrapped the carrier and lifted it, baby and all, from the car. He didn't bother to knock on the cabin door, but walked right in. At first he didn't think anyone was home. But then a small movement by the fireplace drew his gaze.
"Hello, Meg," he said simply.
For a minute he didn't think she'd answer. "Hello, Alessandro.” Her prosaic reply sounded tired. Dispirited. "I assume you figured it out?"
"It took a while, but the message you left with Luc helped. Once I was quiet enough, I found your special secrets. They came as quite a surprise." A gross understatement, if he'd ever heard one.
"I wondered whether or not you'd come once you learned the truth."
"More doubts?"
She remained cloaked in gloom but he could just make out the flash of silver as she nodded. "Guess I’ll need to work harder on breaking that habit."
"Yes, you will." He set the car seat on the floor. "Aren't you going to say hello to your son?" he asked, knowing the question would drive her from the shadows. Sure enough she darted forward, hesitating at the last minute when she saw Nick sleeping. "How is he?"
"He misses you. Hell, sweetheart. I miss you, too." Still she hesitated and he spread his arms wide. It was all the encouragement she needed. She flung herself into his embrace and burst into tears. "You are the cryingest woman I ever did meet," he whispered against the top of her head. He wrapped her up in a bone-crunching hug. "And if you ever pull another stunt like this, you and I will be having a serious difference of opinion."
"I’m sorry, Alessandro," she managed between sobs. "I'm sorry. I lied to you. I'm sorry I left."
"Shh. I'm not angry. Confused. Worried. A bit hurt. But not angry."
"I thought you'd be nail-bitin' furious."
"Well…" He shrugged. "I might have been somewhat peeved when I first discovered you'd taken off."
"I didn't have any choice. I had to tell child welfare about Nick. And... And I had to give you time to make a decision about us."
"There's never been any question about us, though I have one or two about child welfare." He ran
his fingers through her shorn locks. "Then there's the question of why you cut your hair. And why you used your sister's name instead of telling me who you were from the start. And then there's the small issue of Nick and his conception."
"Have you gotten the results of the paternity test yet?"
"Probably. Or I would have if I'd been home. Instead I've been wandering around Asheville for a week trying to find a wife who's gone missing.”
She pulled away, not that he let her go far. It would be a long time before he felt comfortable having her out of arm's reach. "Then you don't know for sure Nick's your son."
"Oh, I know he's mine. I seem to recall our making love once or—"
"Your memory?" she interrupted eagerly. "It's come back?"
"Bits and pieces. Flashes. Dreams.” He gathered her close again. "I doubt I'll ever remember everything. But I'll have you to fill in the gaps."
She immediately looked away, fighting to control the slight quiver of her chin. He could guess what had upset her. She was afraid that once he knew all her secrets, he wouldn't want her anymore, that he'd turn on her. Maybe if he hadn't deserted her or if she hadn't lost faith in him as a result, she'd have been spared some of her current torment. But then, after what she'd gone through in the past year and a half, it was a wonder she remained so loving and generous. A lesser woman would have become embittered.
He swept a hand down her spine and up her arms before forking his fingers deep into her hair. He couldn't restrain the urge to touch her, to reassure himself that he'd actually found her and held her safe within his arms. "What I've never understood is how Nick was conceived."
She flashed him a speaking glance. “The usual way tends to get the job done."
He chuckled. "Cute. What I mean is, what happened to the birth control? I'm usually a fanatic about it."
To his private amusement a hint of a blush tinted her cheeks. He'd never known a woman who could go from earthy to shy over so little provocation. "It was when we made love in the woods."
"The first day of spring?"
"Yes."
"We forgot to pack the picnic basket with all the bare essentials?" he inquired with impressive diplomacy.
"Bingo." She held up a hand. "But all was not lost or so you thought. You had your wallet with you.”
He looked blank for a moment. “Oh, right. I forgot my wallet came fully equipped."
"Yes, well... Apparently the equipment in question had been in there since that oak we were dining under was a mere acorn."
"Didn't hold up to minimum acceptable standards?"
"It split cleaner than an overstuffed sausage," came her succinct reply.
He winced. “Your imagery leaves something to be desired."
Her scrutiny turned unexpectedly intense. "Do you recall your reaction at the time?"
"No. But I can guess."
"I don't think you can."
"I'd have apologized with great charm." He offered a teasing grin. "A Salvatore characteristic, you understand, even if I'm not as slick as some of my brothers."
She didn't respond to his humor. He could feel her tension and wondered at the cause. "And then?"
Meg didn't deserve anything less than absolute honesty. "And then I imagine I'd have reacted the same way I did Christmas Eve when I realized we'd screwed up on the birth control. I'd have been quietly pleased."
She stared in wonder, her tension dissipating. "How did you know?"
"Because it would have forced the issue between us. I'd just come off a divorce and I suspect you were reluctant to make a commitment, worried that my feelings for you were transient." He shrugged. "It was a reasonable assumption given the circumstances."
"Reasonable for someone who lacked faith."
"Stop it, Meg." He tilted her face to his. "We all have our failings. It's what makes us human. What's happened between us will also strengthen our commitment. Neither of us will doubt the other again, will we?"
"Not a chance." She caught her lip between her teeth. "We did mess up on the birth control last week, didn't we?"
"Do you mind?"
She shook her head. "No. I'd prefer waiting a bit before having another baby. But, no."
That was all he needed to hear. "Now tell me the rest. Why the hell did you cut your hair?"
It was the wrong question to ask. She burst into tears. Picking her up, he carried her to a nearby chair, one of the few sticks of furniture remaining in the cabin. Settling her on his lap, he held her until she'd cried herself out. Or cried herself out for the next few minutes.
"I gave my hair to Lauren."
Aw, hell. "Tell me about it."
"My sister cut her hair before she started radiation treatment. It would have fallen out anyway, she told me, so why not save what she could? I thought she’d make it into a wig. Instead she donated every last strand to a charity for children with cancer."
"I gather when you discovered what she'd done, you cut yours and gave it to her as a gift?"
"Yes."
He couldn't speak for a full minute. "I'm so sorry.”
"Do you remember her, Alessandro?" Meg dropped her head to his shoulder. "Do you remember her sweetness? Her laughter? Her generosity? She was such a special person. And she never gave up hope that you and I would find each other again. If she hadn't made me promise, I probably wouldn't have gone looking for you. After all, my phone calls had never been returned, so I assumed your feelings for me had changed. Why should I hunt you down? It was clear you didn't want me anymore. I'd lost every bit of faith. But Lauren hadn't. Not once. Not ever."
"We owe her a lot don't we?"
“It was her last gift to us."
Silence reigned. "What happened after Lauren died?" Alessandro eventually asked. "I gather that's when child welfare got involved."
The breath shuddered in Meg's lungs. "You know about that, too?"
"I'd like to hear your version."
"It was the same as Christmas Eve at your cabin." She curled into him, clinging. "I'd fallen asleep and Nick tried to pull himself up using the tablecloth. Everything came crashing down on him. Oh, Alessandro. I was so scared. There were dishes and glasses. There was even a knife. He could have been killed."
"Instead he was bruised."
"And cut. One of the glasses got him." She shuddered. "I was terrified. I grabbed him, ran for the car and drove as fast as I could to the hospital."
"And when they asked what had happened, you told them."
She nodded. "The doctor believed I'd been negligent because I'd been sleeping when I should have been tending to him. He reported the incident to the child welfare people. When I found out what he'd done I panicked. I bundled Nick up, loaded Babe with as many of our possessions as would fit and lit out of there. I knew if I could just get to you, you'd take our son and keep him safe."
"You knew that?" he asked in a rough voice. "Even after you hadn't heard from me in close to two years, you were sure enough of my reaction to work your way across country to find me?"
"Yes." Her answer was simple, absolute and utterly sincere. "If there was one thing I did have faith in, it was your feelings toward family. The Salvatores may have charm, but more than that they have a deep and abiding love for family. I knew you'd care for Nick and make sure no further harm came to him. Besides, I'd promised Lauren."
"Weren't you afraid I'd take him away from you?"
A tiny tremor shot through her, confirming his guess. "I didn't know what would happen or how you'd react. But even if you were granted legal custody, at least Nick would be with his daddy instead of in a foster home. I couldn't risk losing him to social services, Alessandro. Not after what you'd been through as a child. You'd never have forgiven me."
"Speaking of social services, why the hell didn't you tell them about Lauren? Why didn't you explain how you'd spent the last several months nursing your dying sister while caring for a baby?"
"Do you think it would have made a difference?"
"Wo
uld it...?" He thrust a hand through his hair. "Yeah. It would have made a difference. The government doesn't want to take babies away from their mothers, sweetheart. Not without just cause. They much prefer finding ways to help. When I described the circumstances to the social worker, she was shocked. They had no idea what you'd been through."
"You spoke to the people at child welfare?"
“The minute I hit town. I was trying to find you."
"Didn't they give you my address?"
"A small matter of red tape. We're not married, remember?"
For some reason that amused her. "I assume your Salvatore charm has its limitations?"
"Maybe if I'd thought to bring Marco or Stefano or Luc with me," he confessed with appropriate humility. "Luc in particular has a way with social workers."
“I could have used his help, too. They were furious with me when I met with them this past week."
"Something to do with your folding your arms across your chest and refusing to give them any information about yourself other than your name and social security number?" His brows pulled together in a frown. "Maybe that's why I couldn't wheedle an address out of them. They probably didn't have it."
She winced. "I suppose that might have been part of the problem. My attitude did seem to annoy them a tad. I did give them everything they needed to know about you so they could satisfy themselves that Nick was in good hands."
"In that case, you'll be pleased to learn that I explained the events of the past year and the matter is officially closed."
Relief lightened her expression. "Really?"
"Really. Which brings us to the most crucial question of all."
"Why didn't I tell you I was Nick's momma right from the start?"
"Yes." Regret underscored his words. "It was because I didn't recognize you, wasn't it?"
"For the most part." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "It hurt to think that the time we'd spent together meant so little that you didn't remember it. Or me. But I figured establishing Nicky's paternity was the most crucial issue, not my hurt pride, so I decided to play the part of his aunt instead of his momma. If I'd told you we'd been lovers then we'd have been dealing with our past relationship instead of with what was best for our son."