by Mary Campisi
“I know.”
Was that resignation in her voice? If so, it would make it easier to spit out what he needed to say before he changed his mind. “She expects us to go through with this charade.” He could not say marriage.
A nod and then “She does.”
Great. Words that meant nothing. This wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. Actually, he thought she’d pounce on him the second he closed the door and hit him with a barrage of pleas to talk about their situation. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d gone stone cold; the glaciers he’d seen in Alaska had nothing on her. Fine, just fine. “Since we can’t produce any documents, I guess we’ll have to head to the courthouse and apply for a license.” A marriage license, but hey, why not pretend it was a license for something else? Yeah, they were both getting good at pretending...why not pretend around this?
“I’ll call and see if we need an appointment. Just let me know when you’re available.”
Wow, she made it sound like she was scheduling a dentist appointment. Luke shoved his hands in his back pockets, fixed his gaze on the floor. Isn’t this what he wanted? No emotion, no tears, no begging for another chance. No nothing. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“Luke?”
His belly still did flip-flops when she said his name. Damn it, when was that going to stop? Crap, would it ever stop? He dragged his gaze to hers, forced a gruffness into his voice. “Yeah?”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do? I know you’re worried about your mother, but...”
“But this is a real marriage as opposed to a fake one?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “My mother can’t handle the truth, not yet.”
“But at some point, we have to tell her.”
Was that misery in those words? Luke homed in on her face, tried to pick out the emotions, but she’d buried them so deep, he couldn’t see anything. “At some point.” He paused, added, “If you’re not comfortable with this, then you need to say so now.” Of course, he had no idea what he’d do if she didn’t want to go through with it...
“It’s not that at all.” She sucked in a breath, said in a quiet voice, “What happens after next Saturday? Where do we go from there?”
So, she couldn’t say after we get married or after the wedding either. “I’m not sure I understand.” What a lie. He understood what she was asking and that was the problem.
Her cheeks turned pink, her voice wobbled the tiniest bit. “We’ll be married for real and as far as your mother and the rest of the town is concerned, we’ll be husband and wife. And then there’s the baby.” The pink on her cheeks spread, her voice cracked. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to keep pretending we’re a couple.”
Exactly. That was going to be a huge problem and he didn’t have any answers. He was beat up, disillusioned, and tired, and if he could rewind his life, maybe he’d have asked more questions when he first met Helena instead of ignoring the spaces in her story. But he hadn’t asked because he hadn’t cared, and he’d never in ten million years believed she’d lie to him.
And look where that foolishness got them? He would not be foolish or trusting again. Luke opened his mouth and spilled out words meant to protect him from ever getting hurt by this woman again, even if the words weren’t true. “Here’s the way I see it. We’ll share a house and the baby, but the open-up-and-bleed-for-me stuff? That’s done, not happening.” He sucked in a breath, finished with “Same with sharing a bed. Those days are over.”
“I see.”
“Good. Glad we understand each other.” He turned to leave before he changed his mind and asked why she’d become so agreeable. Part of him wanted a fight, at least a few more questions. Anything but the dead space between them and the lack of emotion. That wasn’t the Helena he remembered. Had he done that to her? Forced her to withdraw so deep inside herself he couldn’t find her? Luke made it to the door, had his hand on the knob when she called to him.
“Luke?”
He swung around, faced her. She moved toward him, the shirt clinging to her middle revealing a small bulge where their baby rested. When she was an arm’s length away, she stopped. “I’m so sorry we’ve come to this. I’d hoped with time, you’d at least consider giving us another chance, but I see the truth now.” Her voice shifted, filled with regret. “You’re not the kind of man to forgive someone who’s betrayed your trust, no matter the circumstances. So, I ask only that you consider how next Saturday will affect us because life in the same house with a partner who isn’t really a partner won’t be as clear-cut or easy as you may think.” She paused, licked her lips. “It could destroy us both and I’m not sure we’d survive it.”
He wasn’t coming. Luke had changed his mind and wasn’t going through with it, even if it meant telling his mother the whole sordid tale. The Donovans were a strong family and they’d be there for their mother, no matter what happened. Just as they’d be there for their brother, even if they didn’t agree with his decision or his behavior.
Helena sat in a living room chair, tried not to notice the sympathy on everyone’s face. Rogan stood in the corner wearing a dark suit and pale blue tie. The man had checked his watch three times in the last five minutes. She guessed that’s what brothers did when they realized they were about to witness a disaster and couldn’t do anything to stop it. Elizabeth clutched his arm, the other hand resting on her very large belly as she leaned toward him in a gesture Helena had begun to notice that meant unity, love, and family. Charlotte and Tate did that, too, whether they were talking from across the room or sitting next to each other. The action was almost imperceptible, but Helena noticed it, as someone does when her own situation is lacking.
Rose hurried about in a flurry of green taffeta, a pale pink rose corsage pinned to her dress. Poor, dear Rose. The woman did not deserve the disappointment that was about to happen. Helena wished it could be different, had tried to make it different, but Luke Donovan was an unbending man. She clasped her hands in her lap, noted the nakedness of her wedding finger. She’d removed the ring last night, placed it in a box, and handed it to Rose saying something about not wanting to jinx herself by holding onto it. Luke hadn’t worn his ring since the day he learned their marriage wasn’t real and when his mother had asked about it, he’d told her that in his line of work, it was too dangerous to wear a ring. Of course, that was true, but she’d guess it was also true that he had no desire to ever put it on again.
Charlotte and Tate sat next to each other on the couch, thighs touching, holding hands, whispering in each other’s ear. Love and happiness swirled about the room, clung to everyone but Helena, the bride-to-be. Mayor Olanski busied himself patting Winston and chatting away as though the dog understood every word. She’d never owned a dog growing up but could see the value of having one to provide comfort, compassion, and unconditional love.
Rose said Camille Alexander had been invited but Helena doubted the woman would show. Why would she when she’d been the one who hired the investigator and revealed the truth about Helena? The woman must be delighted that her instincts regarding Helena’s background had proven correct.
Rogan crossed the room, bent toward her, and said in a gentle voice, “Let’s give him another few minutes and if he’s not here, I’ll call.”
She nodded. There was compassion and kindness in the man she hadn’t noticed before, but she saw it now. “Thank you.” His smile reminded her of the old Luke, the one who promised they’d figure life out together—no matter what.
“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to let him change at my house.” Rogan shook his head, muttered, “He’d better not do anything stupid. Damn fool.”
“I think Luke will do exactly what he wants to do. Doesn’t he always?” A tiny part of her waited for Rogan to tell her Luke did what was right, at least some of the time. But he didn’t because they both knew nobody could persuade him to do anything he didn’t want to do.
“I’m really sorry, Helena. I wish things could be different.” He laid a hand o
n her shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. “We’re all here for you. Please know that. We love our brother but you’re family now, whether you have a ring and a name or not and we aren’t going to turn away from you.”
Family. That’s all she’d ever wanted. If she could find one glimmer of happiness in this tragic situation, it was that the Donovans had accepted her as family. Her smile spread, filled her with hope for herself and the baby. “Thank you.” The Donovans would see that they—
“Hey! Why all the sad faces? Isn’t this a wedding?” Luke stood in the entrance to the living room, bright eyed, hair mussed, tie askew.
Had he been drinking? Oh, please, no. He spotted her, sauntered across the room, and stopped when he was a touch away. The smile he offered fell out in a lopsided jumble. “Well, hello there, beautiful.”
Rogan grabbed his arm, said in a not too soft voice, “Damn it, Luke, have you been drinking?”
Luke thrust Rogan’s arm away, spat out, “No. What kind of jerk do you think I am?” He tilted his head, studied Helena. “Are you ready to get married?”
“What the heck are you doing?” Charlotte clutched Luke’s other arm, leaned on tiptoe, and whispered something in his ear. Whatever she said made him scowl, rub his cheek. Then his gaze skittered back to Helena, softened, and he held out a hand. “Let’s go find the mayor so we can get this shindig started.”
Helena eyed him, placed her hand in his. She should refuse. Yes, she should snatch her hand from his and walk away. What respectable woman would exchange vows with a man who’d needed to ply himself with alcohol to get through his wedding? But she couldn’t just walk away. What about Rose? Who was she trying to fool? It wasn’t concern for Rose that made her clutch his hand and walk with him toward Mayor Olanski. It was the small, almost impossible hope that Luke really did want to go through with the ceremony, and another equally almost impossible hope that his reason for doing so wasn’t all about preserving his mother’s sanity. Maybe there was a speck of hope that he did want to marry her for the chance to find joy again.
There was no fanfare with this ceremony, no violins or harps; just a soft background melody that sifted through the room, complemented the mayor’s words as Rogan and Elizabeth stood next to Luke and Helena, a true testament to love and happiness. When it came time to exchange the vows, Helena met Luke’s gaze and shared the words she’d written last night, ones that lived in her heart.
* * *
“Love did not exist before you
Hope was but a dream
Happiness a wish
Joy an unknown
Until you walked into my world
Opened your arms
And your heart
Covered me in happiness
Showed me joy
Gave me hope
Loved me.”
* * *
When she finished, Luke cleared his throat, eyes so bright they glittered. She slid the ring on his finger, waited for him to say something. They hadn’t talked about this part of the ceremony because she’d wondered if he’d even show up, and until ten minutes ago, was certain he wouldn’t.
Mayor Olanski cleared his throat. “Luke, would you like me to fill in here?”
Luke shook his head, his gaze burning Helena. Then he reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper and read:
* * *
“Love, happiness, misery and sadness have all come into my life because of you.
You saved me, you tortured me, you made me feel again.
Life will never be the same because of you.
You taught me about love and loss.
Taught me about hope and despair.
Joy and sadness blended with love and hope.
They forced us together, pulled us apart, made us whole.
Together.
Forever.”
* * *
When Rogan handed Luke the ring, he eased it onto her finger, clasped her hand in his. And when Mayor Olanski pronounced them husband and wife, he leaned in, took her mouth in a kiss so gentle it tore at her heart. The moment shifted, and congratulations followed with hugs, toasts, and well-wishes for ever after. Helena watched as her new husband made his way to the liquor table and downed a quick shot, then another. He spent the next twenty minutes with a bottle of whiskey and Rogan’s attempts to steer him from it.
Charlotte touched Helena’s shoulder, eyes bright with tears. “Welcome to our family. As messed up as it is sometimes, we’re all still family.” She hugged her, whispered, “Don’t give up on him, please. My brother loves you. He just doesn’t realize it yet.”
Chapter 18
When Helena was younger, before the ex-fiancé who’d shredded her heart, she’d dreamed of her wedding day. Would her gown be fitted with seed pearls decorating the bodice and the fabric hugging her hips like a mermaid? Or would it flow in a sweep of satin or taffeta, swirling about her as she danced, the train adorned with lace? And the color? White, cream, or perhaps ice-blue? The flowers would be calla lilies with a few roses tucked in because what was more romantic than a rose? The groom would wear one on the lapel of his black tuxedo and it would match the color of his vest and bowtie. Oh, yes, she’d had it all planned out, and the desire to live it had been so strong, she’d convinced the ex-fiancé—without much difficulty, which, in retrospect, made sense since he hadn’t planned to attend the wedding.
But those wedding dreams had exploded the day her fiancé informed her he loved someone else. Gone were the dreams of seed pearls, satin, and calla lilies, a stark reminder that wishing didn’t make it true. Like now. Helena stood in Rose Donovan’s sunroom, taking in the signs of spring. Clusters of tulips, hyacinth, and daffodils burst in the gardens: yellow, red, pink, lavender, white, even a deep purple. Two forsythia bushes sprawled along the back corner of the garden, their yellow limbs graceful and delicate. Elizabeth had told her she and Rogan were married in the Donovans’ backyard, and Helena could picture it. Of course, she could picture them exchanging vows just about anywhere because they belonged together...
“Hey. How are you holding up?”
Tate Alexander moved next to her, drink in hand, concern etched on his face. The man had the kind of looks and class that made a woman take a third look and catch her breath, but it was his compassion that made him special. He cared about what happened to other people, and he tried to help, even when it could cause him grief. “I’m doing okay.” Not exactly, but he already knew that.
“You look beautiful. I like the T-length on you, and the lace. I knew you could pull off a lace overlay if it was the right pattern. The ivory’s perfect with your hair and complexion.” His lips pulled into a slow smile. “And you can never go wrong with pearls. The long sleeves are a nice touch, too.”
“Thank you.” How did he know so much about her dress? Charlotte had brought her two choices the other day, both similar, but she’d said it was a gift from her—an apology in the shape of a wedding dress. “You seem to know an awful lot about this dress. Quite a bit more than Charlotte, who didn’t comment on the lace or the reason ivory would look good on me.” She studied him as a possibility settled in her brain. “Now why is that?”
A dull red seeped through his tanned cheeks and spread to his forehead. “Maybe I helped a little.”
“A little?”
Tate shrugged, slid her a look that said he did not like her questions. “Okay, more than a little.” Another shrug, followed by a long sigh. “Camille and I picked out the dresses.”
“You and Camille?” She guessed she could see where Tate might get involved. The man did love his clothes and he had a sense of style that Rogan and Charlotte did not possess. But Camille? The woman who’d ruined Helena and Luke’s chance for happiness? That was impossible to believe. “I’m sorry, but your aunt would rather see me halfway around the world than marrying her nephew. She made that clear when she hired a private investigator.”
“Don’t think I didn’t let her know about her ill-advised meddl
ing.” His voice shifted, turned cold. “There’s no excuse for my aunt’s behavior, but I do believe she’s sorry. She’s the one who suggested we find you a dress. I knew you wouldn’t accept anything from her, and it would seem awkward if I gave you the gift, so we turned Charlotte into the messenger.” His lips twitched, pulled into a faint smile. “If you haven’t noticed, my wife is not familiar with clothing styles or designers.” He cleared his throat as the blush deepened. “I’m a little addicted to it.”
It was her turn to smile. “No kidding?” Helena glanced at the navy suit with the tiny gray pinstripe and the gray silk handkerchief in the breast pocket of his jacket. Style, grace, and flair—the man had it, no doubt about that.
“Just do me a favor and don’t let the rest of the family find out, okay?”
Helena let out a small sigh. “Sure, but trust me, they already know. So, what about Camille? Where does she fit in? Was this her attempt at an apology?” And if it was, why would the woman ever think Helena would accept it?
“I don’t know what it is, but I’m pretty sure she regrets ever contacting that guy. If she didn’t think she was responsible for this mess, she’d be here right now, front and center, eyeing you in that way she has that assesses and dismisses at the same time.” He sipped his drink, nodded. “My aunt’s got a screwed-up life right now, and she let her disaster cloud her opinion on what constitutes happiness.” A smile, a shrug. “Obviously, she should have minded her own business and realizes that now.” He pointed to Helena’s dress. “Hence, the wedding dress.”
“And you got involved because...?”
Another smile, this one wider. “Because I can’t resist a good design.”
His confession made her laugh. “Thank you for your honesty. Your secret is safe.” Though one look at the man and anybody would know he knew his way around designer fashions.