“Do you care if I take this stuff with me?” Missy closed the box and turned away.
“Sure. Can I ask why?” Arianne’s sister instincts were buzzing.
Missy’s fingers curled into fists, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “The blood stains might be a way to test for paternity.”
Air fled Arianne’s lungs. This whole thing was nuts, yet scarily possible. “It could be fish blood. Or the test results could be inconclusive. Are you sure you want to do this? What if…?”
Missy stood tall. “I have to know.”
Arianne nodded.
“I found the decorations.” Emma’s smile chased the dark cloud from the room.
~*~
Emma squealed and flung tissue paper into the air. Like little parachutes, they descended to Huck’s living room carpet.
He laughed. “Like it?”
The girl ran to him, jumped in his lap, and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s ‘zactly what I wanted.”
That made all the embarrassment of asking the store clerk for help worthwhile.
Arianne shook her head. “Huck, those things are outrageous.”
He shrugged. “It’s what she wanted.”
Emma released his neck long enough for him to catch a breath. “Did you like your present?”
Huck glanced at the framed picture of him waving from the doorway of a beehive. She’d said it was his honey house. “I do. I’ve always wanted to live in a beehive.”
She hopped down from his lap. “Me too. Maybe someday we can all live in one together.” Emma picked up her doll and admired the red velvet dress, unaware of the gravity of her words.
He’d love that.
Arianne rose from her spot on the floor and started picking up tissue paper, then paused when something caught her attention on the muted TV.
“What’re you gonna name her?” Huck pointed to the doll.
“She already has a name. It’s Sydney.” Emma whispered something in the doll’s ear then put its plastic mouth up to her own. “Sydney wants to see my old bedroom. Can I show it to her?”
“Go ahead. It’s probably cold on that side of the house, though.”
Doll in hand, Emma skipped away, a hum trailing behind her.
Huck tossed the gift bag on the couch and joined Arianne by the TV. Her face had paled, and unshed tears clouded her eyes. He put a hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “Darcy.”
He turned up the volume in time to hear the reporter say the footage was previous coverage from Darcy’s Christmas Eve wedding at a historic Portland parish. The ending clip showed a bride and groom dodging birdseed as they hurried down the concrete steps to their waiting limo.
“My dress.” Arianne sighed and swiped a tear. “That’s my design.”
“She can’t do that.”
“She did.”
Huck took a breath and blew it out, knowing there was nothing they could do now. “She looked fat.”
Laughter spewed from Arianne’s lips. He pulled her against him and gently rocked, aching for her. Arianne was too talented to allow someone else to steal her creativity.
“Will I ever win?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t give up. If you don’t get the scholarship, we’ll find another way.”
She pulled back just enough to see his face, her arms remaining circled at his waist. “We?”
He catalogued every line on her face from her slender nose to the dip above her upper lip. He wanted nothing more than to lean over and prove his love without words, but not until after he’d offered his gift. “We.”
Reluctantly, he released her and walked to the tree poised in the center of the large window, revealing small flakes drifting in the air. This was the first Christmas tree he’d ever owned, and there wasn’t anyone he’d rather share it with.
He plucked a small box from between the branches twinkling with white lights. Heart in his throat, Huck offered it to her, nervous about how she’d react.
“What’s this?” she asked, voice shaky and breathless.
“Open it.”
Her fingers trembled as she clasped the box and opened the lid. “A key. I…I don’t understand.”
“It’s the key to your new shop.”
She searched his face with an intense gaze. Did he detect disappointment?
Huck brushed away a thick strand of hair that had found its way into her shirt collar and let his fingers play with the ends. “It’s not much. More of a shack really. ‘Bout the size of your apartment. But it’s in great condition and right on the highway. I got a good deal on it.”
He’d only had to use the insurance money from his busted motorcycle and a chunk of his savings to make the down payment. He’d also promised the blueberry farmer who owned it free hive rental for his crop from now until the end of the century. Thankfully, the hospital was allowing him to make interest-free payments on his bill so he’d been able to afford the building.
Arianne remained quiet, unmoving, staring at him as if he’d committed a crime. What was running through that mind of hers? Wasn’t this the answer to her dilemma? The longer the silence, the more uncomfortable he grew. He stood tall and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Merry Christmas.”
Why wasn’t she jumping into his arms? Or at least smiling?
“You won’t have to worry about rent. Do whatever you want with it. It’s entirely yours.”
Emma’s humming echoed down the hall as she made her way back to the living room.
Say something.
Arianne looked down at the box and fingered the key. “Why would you do this?”
Blast it, the woman was gonna force him to get mushy and the things he wanted to say he couldn’t say in front of the kid. “I appreciate your help after my accident and all. It’s not the first time you’ve been there for me when I needed help. I wanted to return the favor. Make sure you had a nice place to relocate.”
She nodded, slowly, and turned to face the window. His gut twisted. Why was she displeased?
He glanced at Emma, entertained with the tiny tea set that came with the doll, and ran a hand up Arianne’s back until it reached her neck. He massaged, attempting to chase the tension away, hoping she’d see how much he cared for them. “What is it?” he whispered.
She put a hand to her stomach and shook her head as though clearing away the fog. “I’m just shocked. Thank you. I…don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He kissed her temple, breathing her in before he pulled away and continued rubbing her shoulders.
In the window’s reflection, Huck saw Arianne close her eyes and her body started to relax. Uncle Marty had brought them all together for a reason, and Huck believed he was starting to understand.
~*~
“She didn’t make it.” Arianne pointed to Emma asleep on the floor, curled up in a blanket, still wearing her New Year’s party hat.
Jack tipped his mug to swallow the last drops of his hot cocoa. “She gave it good effort.”
He leaned forward on the couch. The ceramic cup rested with a clunk against the coffee-table-turned-snack-buffet. Two open potato chip bags, a bowl of half-eaten chip dip, cookie crumbs, and four empty soda cans were all that was left of their feast.
Jack was handsome tonight in his brown sweater with a small zipper at the neck and his brown and red plaid shirt peeking from around his sleeves, neckline, and waist. His left hand rested on a leg of his dark jeans. Arianne marveled at the missing ring. How was this guy not taken?
The mass of bodies gathered in Times Square swept across the television screen, noise-makers, cheers, and music emanating from the speakers. Five minutes to go. Colored bulbs from the Christmas tree reflected on the wall.
She glanced at Jack whose face had grown serious. The skin between his brows creased, and his eyes narrowed. She suspected even though he was looking at the TV, he wasn’t really watching it.
He
turned his head and locked those green eyes with hers. “I missed you while I was in Pittsburgh.”
Arianne’s heart shifted into second gear. She’d missed him too, but she hadn’t been lonely for him. “How are your parents?”
“They stay busy, I’ll say that. Between Mom’s quilting classes and bridge club and Dad’s bowling league, I hardly saw them the whole time I was there.” He stared at her hand, then reached for it and laced his fingers with hers.
A tingle ran up her arm. “What about your sisters?”
His mouth pursed. He seemed discouraged that she was more interested in his family than telling him she missed him too. Why wasn’t she saying it? He was a good, steady man, a hard worker, devout Christian. She had missed his company.
“Same as they’ve always been. I got to meet my new nephew for the first time. He’s a tiny thing—head’s smaller than my palm.”
People bundled in hats and mittens holding homemade posters told the home viewers where they were from. The emcee chose random spectators to chat with. One couple, whose sign said, “Louisiana woman, Mississippi man,” held hands as he knelt and proposed. Mississippi reminded Arianne of Huck. Where was he spending New Year’s Eve?
Oh, who cared? Though his gesture was huge and much appreciated, it had business partners stamped all over it. He could open his sporting goods store now guilt-free.
She’d mentally told herself she was moving on and would stop caring where Huck went and who he spent his time with. After all, she had a good man sitting right next to her who desired a relationship that could potentially lead to marriage. Now she was just waiting for her heart to catch up.
She hadn’t told Jack about the building yet. They were still getting to know each other, and it’s not like they’d declared any kind of status. Besides, it almost felt like Huck’s and her secret, and that pleased her way more than it should.
The tenderness in Huck’s gaze that day, his soft touch seemed to say he wanted more than friendship. But if that were true, why wouldn’t he say so? What was holding him back?
Two minutes to go.
Jack’s hand squeezed tighter around hers. “I enjoyed the time with my family, but when the house got quiet, I’d think about you.”
His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. Goose bumps covered her arms. She could be happy with Jack. He was nice, attentive, responsible. Sometimes love didn’t come right away. Sometimes it grew over time. She’d be an idiot to pass this by.
The emcee announced one minute left.
Jack held their entwined hands against his hard chest, studying her so fully that she wondered if he could read her thoughts. “I really missed you, Arianne.” His deep voice was barely above a whisper.
The crowd gathered in Times Square counted down the seconds. “Ten, nine, eight…”
Jack’s gaze fell to her lips. She didn’t pull away. This was it. He was going to kiss her for the first time, and it’d be so wonderful she’d never think of another man again. His warm lips met hers as he wound his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Tranquility washed over her like a bubbling surf swishing around her ankles as she stood on the shoreline.
Where was the spark? Where were the fireworks? The bells of Notre Dame?
They were all on TV. Cow bells, horns and sirens blared…from Times Square.
Jack broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, his thick fingers cupping the back of her neck. “Happy New Year.”
Arianne forced a smile through her disappointment. Huck’s kiss had ruined her.
She was so stupid. She craved a happily-ever-after. The best prospect she’d had in a long time—possibly ever—was holding her in his arms at this very minute, and all she could think about was her lackadaisical reaction to his kiss? Relationships didn’t survive on such things. If they did, she’d still be married to her ex-husband.
That’s what was wrong. The past three years had been so full of turmoil, she couldn’t find her balance. Life had blindfolded her and spun her by her shoulders until she was so dizzy she couldn’t stand. Then, when the blindfold came off and she’d found her footing, her equilibrium couldn’t catch up. She refused to sabotage this just because Jack’s lips didn’t cause her to go into cardiac arrest. She kissed him again. “Happy New Year, Jack.”
What would this one bring?
After Jesus’ resurrection, his disciples offered him fish and honeycomb.
—Luke 24
30
Huck twisted the doorknob and stuck his head inside Arianne’s new shop. “It’s me.”
“Come in.” Arianne’s muffled voice drifted from another room.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The temperature inside wasn’t much warmer than outside. Her footsteps from the next room grew louder.
“Hey.” Pink dusted Arianne’s cheeks and nose. Her hat sat low over her ears, and she rubbed her mitten-wrapped hands together.
Before he could ask why the place was so cold, she grabbed his arm and dragged him from room to room. She told him her plans with animated gestures like Emma on Christmas morning. He didn’t try to hide his amusement, or the fact that he enjoyed her touch.
Daylight spilled into the windows in the main room, illuminating the dust on the dark laminate floor. Arianne patted the light gray wall, trimmed in white. “After a fresh coat of paint, Jack’s going to build shelves for me and stain them to match the floor.”
Huck’s smile fell.
She tugged him to the window by the front door. “Jack’s also going to help me redo these flowerbeds. He said the ground slopes at an odd angle and needs to be restructured to prevent water from pooling around the foundation.”
Whoa. When did Jack weasel his way into this? Huck tugged her hand to spin her around. “If you need shelves, I’ll build them.”
Her head tipped to the side. “Thanks, but Jack said he’d make them.”
This property didn’t fall under Jack’s jurisdiction. Neither did Arianne. “I know how to build shelves, Arianne.”
His voice came out rougher than he’d intended. Her excitement wilted, as did her grip on him. “I wasn’t insinuating that you couldn’t. Jack wants to help, and you’ve done more than enough already.”
Apparently not. “Where’s squirt?”
Arianne crossed her arms against the cold. “With Missy.”
Her words were barely above a whisper. He’d just won the Jerk-of-the-Year award. But Jack wiggling in on his plans smarted. It was Huck’s job to see that the girls were secure and happy. Not Jack’s. “How’s Missy doin’?”
Arianne shrugged. “She’s so obsessed with finding out who her father is, it’s almost scary.”
He spread his feet shoulder width apart and tucked his hands in his coat pockets. “What do you mean?”
“She goes off on these strange escapades, looking for clues—including going through my things.” She made a face. “It’s weird. She’s talked to everyone in town who’s ever known Dad or Martin. There’s this desperation I don’t understand. It’s eating her alive.”
“Do you think she’s Uncle Marty’s daughter?”
She gazed out the window at the bare, gnarled branches of an old oak. “I don’t know. Martin was a good man. I don’t think he’d have children and not raise them. He adored Emma and detested the situation Adam left me in. Martin didn’t seem the hypocritical type.” Arianne pinned her eyes on him. “Then again, people surprise me every day.”
The comment was obviously directed at him, but was it a compliment or an insult?
“Why’s it so cold in here?” Huck glanced around the former coffee shop and bookstore, satisfied with his purchase.
Arianne buried her hands in her coat pockets as well. “I haven’t had the utilities turned on yet.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Why not?”
Arianne sighed. “Because my tire blowing the other day was an unexpected expense. I’ll get them turned on soon. I promise.”
“Your tire blew? Why didn’t you call me?”
She suddenly found his boots interesting. “Jack picked us up and fixed it.”
That did it. Couldn’t she see how he felt about her? He’d bought her a new shop for crying out loud.
It was this whole stupid mess with her sister. She’d started retreating as soon as the ridiculous paternity issue had popped up. He’d get it settled and bury it along with Uncle Marty—before a life with Arianne vanished like his uncle’s ghost.
~*~
“He didn’t tell you?”
Huck paced in front of the window in his office. “No.”
Ice glazed over the glass, along with the bare tree branches from the maple beside the house. The wind howled, pushing a slight draft past the trim and into the room.
Daryl Peavey, Uncle Marty’s lawyer and childhood friend, blew out a loud breath on the other end. “This goes against oath, but…” Another sigh. “He had mumps.”
“He died of pneumonia.”
“Yes, he did. Marty contracted mumps while overseas during Vietnam.”
Huck sank into his leather chair and propped his socked feet on the desk. “And you think that has something to do with why he couldn’t have kids?”
“It was a bad case from the start. For him, the virus caused swelling and inflammation in his reproductive system, which led to scar tissue damage. Not long after he arrived home from war, he showed up at my house in a drunken stupor and told me everything. I think that haunted him more than the flashbacks. “
“If you love something, you’ll let it go.” Words Uncle Marty truly lived by. The chair groaned as Huck settled his weight against the reclining back. “I had no idea.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”
“Me too.” Though Uncle Marty had come close that night in the garage. Huck couldn’t imagine giving up Arianne. How did his uncle do it?
Huck ran a hand down his face. “So you think this paternity case is bogus?”
How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart Page 23