Anything for Danny

by Carla Cassidy

  That night when Danny had stayed in the clinic and Sherri and he had almost made love, he'd thought so. He'd believed that it was love that had sparkled in her eyes. He'd thought it was her heart reaching out to his.

  When she'd turned down his proposal, he'd just assumed he'd been wrong, that he'd mistaken what he thought she felt. She'd been trying to comfort him and he'd mistaken it for something more.

  Now he was confused…more confused than he'd ever been in his life and he knew the only way to end the confusion was to talk to Sherri.

  He looked back on his years without her and saw them for what they were…empty years without meaning, lonely years without her. And somewhere in the back of his mind had always been the thought that eventually he and Sherri would be together again.

  But the one thing Danny had made him suddenly realize was how precious time was, and he wasn't willing to waste another minute without Sherri if Danny was right and she did love him.

  He increased his speed, anxious to discover if they had a chance to be together again, correct the mistakes and finally find the forever that had been elusive the first time around.

  Chapter Eleven

  Silence. The house was silent around her. Before the trip, Sherri had always reveled in the silence of the house when Danny had gone to spend the weekend with Luke. She'd spent the time reading, doing needlepoint, watching rental movies she'd particularly wanted to see. However, since the trip, the silence in the house during those weekend visits had been stifling.

  Those were the terms she thought in now…before the trip and after the trip. Her life had divided itself into those two time periods.

  Before the trip, she had been, if not completely content, then at least at peace with her oneness. Now, even a modicum of peace was difficult to find. She felt only a deep, abiding loneliness.

  With a sigh of disgust, she flipped on the television, the room immediately filling with the audience laughter of a sitcom. At least it was noise, she thought.

  She could have gone out. Some of her fellow teachers had gotten together to go to the theater and she had been invited, but the invitation had held absolutely no appeal. Besides, the weather was messy. The snow that had been absent in the month of December had appeared in force for the month of January.

  However, it wasn't the weather that bothered her tonight, nor was it Danny's absence. She knew what was wrong with her. She was feeling sorry for herself. Today would have been their tenth anniversary—the aluminum or tin one—and she was being a baby and indulging in self-pity and thoughts of what might have been. It was stupid, it was masochistic, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

  If she was going to be self-indulgent, she might as well go all the way. She went into the kitchen, opened the freezer door and pulled out the carton of chocolate-chip cookie-dough ice cream. If anything could make her feel better, it was a dish of the sinfully rich ice cream topped with thick hot fudge.

  Dish in hand, she returned to the living room and flopped onto the sofa, trying to concentrate on the inane sitcom on the tube. However, the sitcom characters couldn't begin to compete with her thoughts of Luke.

  Luke. Since returning home from their trip, she felt the pangs of losing him all over again. She hadn't seen him, had only talked to him on the telephone four times since their return. They were back to their separate lives, with Danny providing their only link.

  She started as the doorbell rang. She looked at her wristwatch and frowned. Who on earth would be ringing her bell at ten o'clock on a Saturday night?

  Pulling her robe more firmly around her, she opened the door and stared at the man who stood there. "Luke! What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Danny?" Fear clutched at her. Danny had been fine for the past month, but always the fear was there…fear of the disease that hid inside him.

  "Danny's fine," he hurriedly assured her. "He's visiting my neighbors."

  She looked at him in confusion. "Why is he doing that? What are you doing here?"

  "Sherri, we need to talk…but first I want to give you something." He held out a roll of aluminum foil. "It's not the roses I once envisioned, but the flower shop was already closed."

  Sherri looked at him blankly, wondering what on earth he was up to…what was going on. She took the roll of aluminum foil, strangely touched that he'd at least remembered their anniversary.

  "Can I come in, or do you want me to conduct the heart-to-heart I've got planned right here on the front stoop?" He smiled, that lazy, sexy grin that pierced right through her skin and directly to her heart.

  "Come on in," she muttered in confusion. She opened the door and allowed him entry, then led him into the living room. "Are you sure everything is all right with Danny?"

  "Danny is fine. Would you take that worried look off your face?" He took off his coat, then flopped onto the sofa, his hand automatically seeking the pulled tuft of material he'd often worried with his fingers when thinking. It was like a blast from the past, merely serving to add to Sherri's confusion.

  She sank onto the chair opposite the sofa. "Luke, you want to tell me what's going on…exactly why you're here?" She folded her hands together in her lap and looked at him expectantly.

  His fingers caressed the sofa tuft and his forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. "How much do you think we've changed since our divorce?"

  "I can't answer that for you…but I know I've changed a lot." Sherri looked down at her hands, then back at him. "Luke, for goodness sake…would you please tell me what this is all about? You show up on my doorstep at ten o'clock at night with a box of aluminum foil and questions I don't understand."

  He held up his hand to still her. "Please, Sherri…indulge me for a moment."

  She looked at him anxiously, then heaved a sigh of resignation and settled back in the chair. She knew Luke, and when he got that particular look on his face, it meant he was going to do things his own way. Now all she had to figure out was exactly what he was doing.

  "I know I've changed," he began slowly, thoughtfully. "My priorities are different. What once was very important to me is no longer important. Did Danny tell you I opened the studio?"

  She nodded. "He also told me you already have more work than you know what to do with."

  He smiled, a boyish enthusiastic grin that lightened his features and instantly made her heart flip-flop in her chest. "I'd forgotten how much pleasure could be derived in taking pictures of happy, smiling babies and couples in love. I'm finding it more satisfying than I ever thought possible."

  "I'm happy for you, Luke. I really am." Sherri tilted her head and gazed at him in bewilderment. She had no idea why he was here, but as crazy as it seemed, she was enjoying his presence. He filled the room with his masculinity. The sofa seemed to shrink beneath him. He'd always complained that it was much too small to stretch out on.

  His familiar scent wrapped around her heart, trying to seep through the defenses she had erected. She steeled herself against it, against him, but it did no good. Her love for him was too strong to fight, too deep to overcome.

  She wanted a second chance with him. She was a different person than she'd been before. She was stronger, and even though she didn't need Luke anymore, more than anything she wanted him back in her life. She didn't know why he was here, but she refused to guess, to entertain any hope at all. It hurt so much to think of living the rest of her life without him, but she knew it would hurt worse to invite any false hope.

  "Now tell me how you've changed," he said.

  "Luke, I don't see—"

  "You said you'd indulge me in this," he reminded her. "Please, tell me how you've changed since our divorce."

  She knotted her hands more tightly in her lap. "I don't know…I'm not quite as rigid as I used to be. I've learned to roll with the punches." She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes slightly. "I've learned to depend on myself, to like myself and most important, I've learned that I don't need anyone but myself." She refolded her hands, her gaze unwavering as it ling
ered on him. "I don't need you."

  His smile froze on his face for a moment, then he slowly nodded his head. "Danny seems to think you still love me."

  Sherri felt the blood leave her face and she forced a small burst of laughter. "What does he know? He's just a little kid. He sees what he wants to see, believes what he wants to believe."

  "Then it's not true? You don't love me?" He leaned forward, his gaze so intent she felt as if he probed into her very soul.

  She flushed and stood up. "This is a silly conversation," she snapped. Dear God, she couldn't tell him. All she had left was her pride. She couldn't tell him that she'd done the stupidest thing and fallen back in love with him. "I already told you I don't need you. What else is there to say?"

  He jumped up off the sofa and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Just answer the question, Sherri. Do you still love me?"

  She stared up at him, wanting to lie, to tell him that she didn't love him at all, that she hated him. She wanted to tell him that her life was wonderful without him, that she didn't lie in bed at night and think about him, dream about him. But she couldn't lie. "Yes, damn you. Yes, I still love you." The words seeped out of her on a sigh of despair. She dropped her head, unable to look at him any longer.

  Gently, tenderly, his hand touched her chin, forcing her to look at him once again. A smile curved his lips as he gazed at her for a long moment. "The strangest thing happened on our trip to the Grand Canyon. I began the trip thinking I knew my ex-wife. I knew how she thought, what was important to her. I knew her strengths and weaknesses. But as the days passed, I realized that she wasn't the woman I thought she was. This new woman was stronger, more assured, and the strange thing that happened was that I fell in love with her all over again."

  Sherri stared up at him, afraid to hope, afraid to believe what she thought she'd heard. She looked in his eyes, expecting to see a sparkle of humor, the hint of a very bad joke, but she saw nothing except the beautiful blue eyes she loved, would always love.

  "I love you, Sherri," he repeated and pulled her against him. "It's crazy and heaven knows it wasn't what I expected, but I do love you." His lips sought to connect with hers.

  The kiss, so sweet, so loving…so full of suppressed desire and need finally broke the paralysis that had gripped her.

  A sob rose in her throat, choking her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. "Oh, Luke, I love you, too. I love you with all my heart and soul."

  They kissed again, then Luke led them over to the sofa. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as her cheek lay against his chest. For a long moment, Sherri couldn't speak, so full was her heart. She merely remained in his arms, listening to the sound of his heart beating.

  "It's scary, isn't it?" he finally said.

  "Terrifying," she agreed. She knew her own heart was beating as quickly, as frantically as his pounded.

  He fell silent again, still caressing her hair, stopping occasionally to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Do you think we could make it together this time? You know, if we got married again?"

  She pulled away and sat up and looked at him. Her beloved. The man she had loved first…last and always. "I don't know," she admitted candidly. "I think we both have changed…grown up. That's a plus." She reached out and swept a strand of his dark hair away from his forehead. "But we can't do it for Danny's sake. If we decide to try it again, it has to be for our own sake, not for his."

  "Sherri, I want to marry you for my sake." He framed her face with his hands, his gaze boring deeply into hers. "Because if I have to spend one more day without you, one more night without you in my arms, I feel I'll go crazy."

  "I feel the same way," she whispered, reaching out to touch his strong jawline.

  He pulled her back into his arms and for the next hour they talked. They mourned their old dreams…ones that had been shattered beneath youthful selfishness, neediness and fear. They talked of new dreams…ones that had blossomed from growth, maturity and love.

  They spoke of mistakes made and lessons learned and discovered that they had grown into their love. It was a time of healthy healing, and they realized they couldn't completely put the past behind them, rather they had to hang onto pieces of it, learn from it.

  "I still make lists," Sherri warned him.

  "I'll love your lists," he replied indulgently. "And there may be nights I work late at the studio and miss supper."

  "I'll keep it warm for you."

  They spoke of compromise and commitment, and fear slowly faded, being replaced with the certainty of deep and mature love. "Marry me, Sherri. Marry me as soon as possible," Luke said.

  "Yes, oh, yes, Luke," she replied. "I want that more than anything in this world." She threw herself back into his arms and they kissed in wonder, awed by the second chance they'd been granted.

  When the kiss ended, she stood up and held out her hand to him. "Come on," she said. "There's one more thing we have to do."

  "What's that?" he asked, reaching out to take her hand in his.

  She smiled. "We need to go tell our best man that his wish is going to come true." Her tears misted with happiness and she saw that his blue eyes reflected the same wealth of emotion. "We need to tell him that we're finally going to be a family again."

  He stood up and gathered her in his arms. They kissed and in his lips Sherri tasted the past, the future…their forever.

  Epilogue

  "Sherri, it's almost sunset."

  Sherri smiled at Luke and nodded. For a moment, she didn't move from the table. Instead, she reached out a finger and lovingly touched the paper bird that nestled in the branches of the little treetop table. Then with a resigned sigh, she put on her coat and picked up an object from the table. She left the motor home and joined him on the observation platform overlooking the Grand Canyon.

  As she moved to stand next to him he threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her tightly against his side. Sherri leaned against him, noting how the lowering sun was just beginning to cast its myriad colors on the walls of the canyon.

  "It's hard to believe that it's been two years since we were last here," Luke observed quietly.

  Sherri sighed. "Yes, and yet it's just exactly as I remember it. I guess some things never change."

  "Oh, it's changed. Subtly, it's changed. The wind and the river have cut the canyon a little deeper, time has stamped its presence on it." He smiled down at her…the smile that still had the ability to make her weak in the knees, cause her heart to stir with overwhelming emotion. "Some things change in that they just get more and more beautiful…like this canyon." He touched her cheek softly. "And our love."

  Sherri smiled tremulously at his words, then leaned her head against his shoulder, thinking back over the past two years…years that had passed so quickly.

  They had married the Saturday after the night Luke had come to her house. It had been a small ceremony with close friends. Danny had been ecstatic in his role as best man and had guarded the wedding ring like a miser protecting his gold.

  Sherri closed her eyes for a moment. Danny…sweet Danny. It had been their son who had taught them the value of time, the preciousness of each and every moment.

  For a year and ten months, they had been a family…laughing, loving, living every one of those precious moments together. Last year they'd had the Christmas of their dreams…together. Danny had jumped into their bed, awakening them at dawn. They'd spent the day laughing with one another, loving one another…replacing the memories of the Christmas Danny had spent in the hospital with new ones, better ones.

  Danny had been well for a year, eight months and fourteen days, then he had gotten sick again. Even with the visits in and out of the hospital, he'd remained cheerful and accepting, giving his parents the strength to cope, to survive.

  Then, a month ago, Danny had gone to sleep and in the middle of the night he'd earned his angel wings. He'd gone peacefully, quietly, with a smile of contentment on his face
.

  Sherri squeezed her eyes more tightly closed for a moment, allowing her grief to assail her. Luke tightened his arm around her and she knew he was feeling the same emotion.

  And now it was Christmas again. Their first without their son. They had come back to the place where they'd rediscovered their love, to say a final goodbye to their child.

  She looked up, her gaze seeking Luke's, finding in the blue depths the love she knew would get them through their grief. Karen had been right so long ago. The only way to survive the loss of a child was to hold tight to each other, give and gain strength from the love between them.

  She reached up and touched his cheek softly, lovingly, then returned her gaze to the canyon.

  They stood for several minutes, watching as the sun sank lower, the pinks and oranges brightening until the sky and the canyon were ablaze.

  "It's time," Luke said, his voice a low rumble.

  "Yes." Sherri carefully took the brass urn from the large velvet pouch, for a moment holding the container close against her heart.

  Danny had been adamant in what he wanted to happen following his death. He'd wanted to be cremated and he'd wanted his ashes thrown across the Grand Canyon at sunset. And he'd made Luke and Sherri promise there would be no tears. Sherri realized now that it would be the most difficult promise to keep.

  As she removed the lid, Luke tightened his grip on her. She looked up at him and realized that for the second time in her life she would have to be strong for him. She straightened her shoulders. She could do it. She could be strong for Luke and for Danny.

  "It's all right." She smiled at Luke and with his arms still wrapped around her, she turned the urn over and Danny's ashes scattered, winging on the wind and disappearing out over the canyon.

  "Fly, Danny," she whispered. "Fly." A sob rose in her throat but she swallowed it.

  She suddenly remembered the last day of their trip, when Danny had given them the self-portrait of himself as a Christmas angel.

  "I'll be smiling all the time when I have my angel wings." The words swept through her and for a moment she could smell Danny's little-boy scent, feel the essence of his soul as it winged through her, then lifted into the heavens. And for just a moment, the wind sounded like a chorus of angels.