Love's Haven

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Love's Haven Page 25

by Catherine Palmer


  “It’s okay, Brock. I understand now.”

  “I don’t have the power to make you stay with me, Mara. I can only hope you want to. I hoped…and I prayed. Believe me, I’ve prayed so hard. But tonight I was sure I’d lost you.”

  She laid her cheek on his broad shoulder and tightened her arms around his back. He was so solid and strong, she wished she could hold him this way forever.

  “I want to stay with you, Brock,” she murmured. “I don’t ever want to go.”

  He swallowed hard. “What about Todd?”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s Abby’s father.”

  “Todd gave Abby life. He gave her that red-gold sheen to her hair and that funny smile on her lips. But Todd isn’t the father she knows. Only one man can be that to her.” Mara looked up at him. “You’re Abby’s father now, Brock. And Todd would want you to be.”

  He lifted his eyes to the stars as if in disbelief. “I’d do anything for that little girl.”

  “I know.”

  “I love her, Mara, and I don’t know how it happened. Look at me—I’m not equipped to be a decent father. I don’t have the training. But I’ll tell you, I’d give my life for her.”

  “I’m not worried about your qualifications for the job, Brock,” Mara declared. “You’re a natural.”

  “You reckon?”

  She ran her hand down the side of his face, reveling in the rough brush of his whiskered jaw. “No doubt.”

  “But what about Todd?” he asked again. “Todd and you?”

  Mara let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been so afraid to let go of him. I’ve tried to forgive, but I’ve been unable to let go of my anger, my hurt, my grief. Somehow it seemed like if I kept all that, Todd wouldn’t ever really leave. I could keep him real and alive. But he’s gone, Brock.” She looked at his face through the blurring mist in her eyes. “I want to let him go.”

  “I’ll never forget him,” he said, “but I want to let him go, too.”

  “Tell me what happened. Tell me about that day on the cliff.”

  He turned away from her and sat down on a fallen boulder. Burying his face in his hands, he was unable to say anything. Only when she slipped to his side and settled on the ground at his feet could he speak.

  “It was getting dark because we’d been climbing all day,” he began, his voice just above a whisper. “As I told you before, we made the decision to down-climb the cliff without ropes. Rappelling can take a lot of time because you have to secure the equipment or it’s not trustworthy. You have to abandon some of your stuff. Todd thought it was wasteful to leave things behind. He never liked to do that.”

  Mara nodded, picturing the thrifty Todd.

  “We checked to see that the route was free of loose rock, and we started down. I’d been there before a few times, so I led. We started down, face-out with our backs to the wall.” He paused, shaking his head. Then he let out a breath. “You want me to go on?”

  Mara tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded.

  “When the angle got steeper, I knew we needed to turn around and face the cliff wall. I wanted to use a rope at that point, just to be safe. I tossed my rope to Todd. He caught the end of it. We stretched it between us, and he was trying to anchor it”

  Waiting for him to continue, Mara could feel the pain of memory racking through his body. For the first time since Todd’s death, she became the comforter. She laid her cheek against his leg and kissed his knee.

  He didn’t speak for more than a minute. When he did, his voice was rough and broken. “He had hammered in a piton, and he put some weight on it to test it. The thing popped out, and Todd started sliding. He cried out to me, ‘Brock!’ I reached for him, but he tumbled past me too fast. I grabbed for his hand. I missed.”

  He shook his head. “I missed, Mara. I missed!”

  She knew her tears were soaking through his jeans. “Where was the rope?”

  “I thought he had it. I jerked at my end to bring him up tight and steady, but he had lost hold of it. I shouted at him, but he kept falling. He rolled and rolled, and I saw him hit his head. When he came to a stop, I was already halfway down to him. I don’t know how I did it without ropes. It was like I flew, seeing this blur of rock rushing past me as I scrambled down, screaming at him.”

  “Oh, Brock.”

  “When I got to him, I knew it was over. I lifted his head and held it in my lap. He was gone, Mara. Just like that. Gone.”

  He sat weeping as she stroked his back. “It’s okay, Brock.”

  “I should have put in the pitons myself. I should have reminded him to secure the rope. I’ve down-climbed cliffs a thousand times, and I didn’t warn him! I should have caught him. I should have reached out just that much farther and grabbed him, Mara. Why didn’t I? Why?”

  “Brock, it’s all right.” She molded her hands around his damp face and lifted his chin. In the moonlight, she read his anguish. “It’s over. It was an accident. I forgive you, Brock. You didn’t even have to tell me the story.”

  He brushed his eyes with his sleeve. “I needed to tell it.”

  “Brock—thank you. Todd’s life was richer for having you as his friend.”

  “I love you, Mara.” He glanced upward, then at her. “And I don’t have to climb that cliff.”

  As his lips met hers, she responded with all the pent-up emotion of the last hours. Peace…the feeling descended over her like a warm cape. She felt at peace with this man, at peace with herself, at peace with their future. His hands caressed her shoulders, and his fingers threaded through her hair. Wanting more of him, she kissed his neck and tasted the salt on his cheeks. He lifted her onto his lap and together they drank in the moment of promise.

  “Mara,” he murmured, tilting her face into the moonlight. “I love you, you know.”

  “Keep telling me,” she said softly. “Take me home and hold me and tell me again and again.”

  “I’ll show you how much I love you.”

  They stood and started toward the old trading post. Suddenly, Brock stopped. “Oh, yeah.” He unsnapped the flap of his shirt pocket and fished around in it for a moment. “I almost forgot. I’ve been carrying this thing around for a week.”

  Mara stiffened as he held out his hand. A circle of diamonds caught the moonlight—so shimmery she felt as though a spell had been cast over her.

  “I’d like my wife to wear a ring,” he said. “If she will.”

  “It’s beautiful, Brock.” She held out her left hand. Gently, he slid the sparkling circlet over her ring finger.

  “I’d like a church wedding, too. It’s the only way I can think of to let everyone know neither of us is up for grabs. Besides, I want to announce my promise to love you forever so the whole countryside can hear it.”

  “Forever, Brock?”

  “As long as we both shall live.” He gave her a quick kiss. “What do you say to that?”

  “I say, Amen.”

  At that, he swung her off her feet and lifted her into his arms. As he started back toward her car, he shook his head. “First we have a pregnancy, then a marriage, then a baby, then a honeymoon, then an engagement, and last of all a wedding. We’re a mixed-up pair, you know that?”

  “I want the honeymoon again,” she whispered.

  He laughed. “Oh, yeah!”

  They were almost to the car when Mara heard the distinctive sound of her daughter’s restless wake-up cry. “Oh, dear,” she said softly.

  “You brought Abby?” His face broke into a grin.

  Brock put Mara down and opened the door of her car. She watched him edge his big shoulders into the open space. As he bent to unbuckle the crying baby, she heard him murmur.

  “It’s okay, honey. Don’t cry anymore. Daddy’s here.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5341-8

  LOVE’S HAVEN

  This is revised text of a work first published as HIS BEST FRIEND’S WIFE by Harlequin Enterprises in 1995

  Copyright ©
1995 as HIS BEST FRIEND’S WIFE by Catherine Palmer,

  Copyright © 2005 as LOVE’S HAVEN by Catherine Palmer

  This edition published May 2007

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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