Christmas in July

by Debbie Mason

  “No, it’s just… I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I keep forgetting you have absolutely no memory of us.” While she stirred the sauce, she glanced at him. “We spent our honeymoon at this amazing bed-and-breakfast in Casperia, Italy. Roberto, one of the owners, taught us how to make these incredible dishes. Everything was fresh. They produced their own olive oil and cheese. We’d pick tomatoes from the garden, and they were warm from the sun and smelled real, you know.” She scooped up a meatball with the spoon and cupped her hand beneath it. “Close your eyes and see if you can guess the secret ingredient.”

  There was something incredibly sexy about Grace at that moment. It was the way she talked about the food. Her eyes lit up with passion. Her face captivated him. He could look at her all day and never get tired of it.

  “You have the most amazing eyes. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  “You.” She smiled and lifted the spoon to his mouth.

  He rested a hand on the curve of her hip and opened his mouth, then did as she asked and closed his eyes while savoring the moist, spicy meatball. “Hot Italian sausage,” he guessed, although he wasn’t sure it was a guess. Somehow he’d known, even before he said it, that hot sausage was the secret ingredient.

  Her eyes widened. “You rem…” she started, then corrected herself. “You’re right. I was going to bet you that you couldn’t guess. Good thing I didn’t.”

  “What would I have gotten if we had?” Answers, that’s what he wanted. An answer as to why his sister had lied. But he liked this playful, lighthearted side to Grace and didn’t want to ruin the moment. No sense in upsetting her when he could just as easily ask Jill.

  She cast him a sidelong glance, her delicate jaw setting in a determined line before she said, “A kiss.”

  “Sounds good to me.” It did. He hadn’t been able to get the kiss he’d shared with the woman in the meadow out of his head. A woman who looked like his wife.

  “It does?” she asked in a surprised tone of voice.

  He took the wooden spoon from her and rested it across the top of the pot before placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Yeah, it does,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned in to him. Her body a warm, supple weight. He smoothed his hands down her back, brushing his lips, slowly, gently, over hers, drawing her closer. He wanted her closer.

  A needy whimper escaped her parted lips as she wound her arms around his neck. Bringing her body snug against his, she tangled her fingers in his hair. Jack had thought to take it slow, to get one small taste of her, but from the way she drew the tip of her tongue across the seam of his lips, she wanted more. She coaxed him to open, short-circuiting his brain with the feel of her tongue caressing the inside of his mouth with hot, greedy strokes. It was an unbelievable kiss—passionate and uninhibited.

  Grace was the woman in the meadow.

  She rose up on her toes, and he looped one arm around her waist, threading the fingers of his other hand in her soft, sweet-smelling hair. Mine. The thought echoed in his head at the same time the phone rang.

  Her frustrated groan reverberated against his mouth. He wanted to voice his own frustration when she drew away from him. Cheeks flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with passion, she gave him an apologetic smile and went to answer the phone. “It’s probably little Jack.”

  By the time she finished talking to Jill, he’d laid their dinner on the table.

  Jack pulled out a chair for her. “He okay, or do you want me to go get him?” He’d made some progress with his son today, but selfishly, he wanted Grace to himself tonight. Especially after that kiss.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking her seat. She placed a napkin neatly across her lap. “Jill doesn’t think he’s going to last through the night. But he’d probably pitch a fit if you went to get him now. She said she’ll bring him home in a while.”

  “Inherited the infamous Flaherty temper, did he?”

  She smiled and nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t see any signs of it today.”

  “Nope.” The kid might be Houdini and a little stubborn, but he hadn’t thrown a tantrum.

  They talked while they ate, mostly about their son. As he’d noticed yesterday, his wife was an entertaining conversationalist. But unlike last night, it was harder for him to stay focused on the conversation. He’d catch himself staring at Grace’s soft lips, reliving that kiss.

  “Would you like some coffee and dessert?” she asked as she got up to clear the table. “I made tiramisu. It’s one of Roberto’s recipes.”

  “That would be a definite yes, then. Do you have any pictures of the place?”

  “Tons. I’ll get them.” She set the dishes on the counter and went into the living room, coming back with three albums in her arms. “I should’ve done this yesterday. Dr. Peters thought it might help you remember.”

  Once she served coffee and dessert, she pulled her chair closer and opened the first album. It was of their honeymoon. She worked her way backward to the wedding. “If this is hard for you, we can stop,” she said as she closed the second album.

  It wasn’t easy. Charlie, as Jack’s best man, was in most of the photos. But Jack instinctively knew he had to do this. He wanted his memory back, and somewhere in these albums might be the key to unlocking it.

  He knew the instant she opened the third album that he’d found the key.

  She turned the page to a picture of her wearing a feminine white sundress, her arms held out from her body as she twirled in a lush meadow of vibrant red Indian paintbrush and white columbine. Her honey-blonde hair swung across her shoulders, her face lifted to the sun. “This is when you proposed. You planned a picnic for us. I had no idea what you were up to.”

  One by one, the memories flooded his senses: the night he met her, the first time he kissed her, the first time they made love, and the day he realized she was the only woman for him. He had fallen so completely in love with her that his reasons never to marry no longer mattered or made sense. Her military upbringing made her his perfect match. He knew whatever happened she wouldn’t break. She’d stick by him, never give up on him.

  Emotion swamped him as he looked at Grace, a soft smile playing on her lips, a strand of hair falling across her cheek, her delicate, fine-boned fingers tracing the photo. He loved her now as much as he did then. Theirs was a forever kind of love, an unforgettable love.

  But he had forgotten her. If the situation had been reversed, he knew how that would’ve made him feel. He opened his mouth to tell her, and that’s when the final memory clicked into place.

  He remembered their last night together and what she’d said to him.

  Chapter Eight

  Grace was so caught up in the bittersweet memory that it took a moment before she realized Jack hadn’t said anything. She glanced at him and caught the wary look in his eyes, the muscle pulsating in his clenched jaw.

  “Is something wrong?” Of course there is, you’ve pushed him too hard. Dr. Peters had warned her it could take time, but selfishly she wanted Jack to remember her now. The kiss they’d shared had left her greedy for so much more.

  He held her gaze, an emotion in his intent blue eyes she couldn’t read. And for some reason, it set off a flutter of nerves in her stomach. “Jack, what is it?”

  “I remember.”

  His low, flat tone of voice should have been her first warning that something wasn’t right, but she was too happy to pay attention. She reached for his hand. “That’s wonderful,” she said, barely able to contain her tears. “If you remember that day, it’ll only be a matter of time before the rest of your memory returns.”

  “It’s back. All of it. I remember everything, Grace.”

  She briefly closed her eyes and released his hand. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But deep down she’d known this would happen, hadn’t she? Known they’d eventually have to deal with that night. Emotion tightened her throat, both joy and sorrow, and it took a moment for h
er to be able to say, “I’m sorry. As soon as I said the words I wanted to take them back, but I couldn’t. You left.” As she should’ve done that night, she swallowed the anger that welled up inside her. It wasn’t easy. No matter the guilt she’d lived with for the last seventeen months, there was a part of her that hadn’t forgiven him for leaving.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why what, Jack? Why did you leave when you promised you wouldn’t? Why didn’t you answer your phone when I called? Why was fighting for your country more important than fighting for us?”

  Stop it, Grace. For goodness’ sake, stop it before you say something you can’t take back.

  She caught the stunned expression on his face and drew in a shuddered breath. Pushing the chair from the table, she said, “I shouldn’t have said that. Would you like more coffee?” She cringed as the inane words came out of her mouth. She sounded like her mother.

  Jack reached for her as she picked up their half-empty cups. “Dammit, Grace, don’t apologize. And don’t you dare shut down on me, not now. I’d rather you be honest than that.”

  She turned and walked to the counter, setting the cups beside the coffeemaker. The room felt like it was closing in around her, and she opened the window. Folding her arms across her stomach, she breathed in the rain-scented air as the damp breeze cooled her heated cheeks. She heard Jack’s chair scrape across the ceramic tile, felt the heat from his hard, muscular body as he moved in behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his face to the side of hers. “I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

  For seventeen months he had. She bowed her head, a tear escaping beneath her closed lids. “I love you, too.” She did; with every fiber of her being, she loved him. But it hadn’t been enough to keep him with her. “If I could take back what I said, I would, but I can’t. I missed you from the moment you walked out the door. I missed the man I married.”

  Against her back, she felt his chest expand. “I know. I was angry. Angry that Charlie was gone, angry that my grandmother had left us the damn bakery and that you were determined to keep it. I never wanted to live here, Grace. You knew that.”

  “You’re right, I did. But the thing is, Jack, while you had a lot to deal with, so did I. I needed support, and I got lots of it in Christmas. And be honest, you weren’t just angry about Charlie’s death, you blamed me.” It was the first time she’d voiced her suspicion. She hadn’t wanted to believe it then, but she’d had a lot of time to think about his reactions since he’d been gone.

  “No.” He blew out a ragged breath, and his arms tightened around her. “Okay, yeah. Maybe. I thought if I had been the one in the pilot’s seat instead of home with you, I could’ve kept the chopper in the air, and he wouldn’t have died. It was survivor’s guilt, Grace, and the only way I knew how to work through it was to get back there.”

  “Even though I asked you not to go.”

  “Yeah. I was no good to you the way I was. You or little Jack.”

  “I don’t believe you gave our son a second thought. I could hardly get you to hold him or spend any time with him.” She hadn’t meant to say that, but it was true. The way he’d avoided their son had been painful to watch.

  “I think I was afraid of him. He was so small and…” He hesitated.

  “He never stopped crying,” she finished for him. Grace had tried every remedy in the book to soothe their colicky baby, but nothing had worked. She’d been a permanent fixture in Dr. McBride’s office. The man was a saint for putting up with her. She’d been a nervous wreck, and Jack hadn’t helped. Dr. McBride had assured her that little Jack’s colic would clear up. It did. Coincidentally, right around the time his father left.

  Jack stepped back and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for either of you, but I’m here now. Do you want me to stay?”

  “How can you even ask me that? Of course I want you to stay.” She blinked back tears. She couldn’t lose him so soon after getting him back. Not again.

  He cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “That night you told me if I left, you wanted a divorce. That you wouldn’t be here when I came back.”

  “I was hurt and—”

  A shocked gasp cut Grace off. Jill stood in the living room with little Jack in her arms.

  * * *

  Jack looked from his sister to his wife. From the furious expression on Jill’s face and the distraught one on Grace’s, it was obvious his wife hadn’t shared their problems with his sister. This wasn’t going to be pretty, Jack thought. Jill had been defending him since they’d moved in with their grandmother, and she had no qualms about fighting dirty. Jack knew how much she loved him, but he wasn’t about to let her protect him at his wife’s expense. Grace had been through enough. And no matter what his sister thought, he’d deserved everything she’d said to him that night. He was just glad she hadn’t given up on him and moved on with her life.

  “You asked him for a divorce? How could you? I thought you loved him. All this time—”

  “Jill, that’s enough,” he interrupted her with a pointed look in his son’s direction. “I’ll take care of this, Grace. You get little Jack settled.” He took his son from Jill’s arms.

  “No. Mama,” little Jack cried and held out his hands to Grace, shooting a worried look at the adults in the room.

  “How can you—” his sister began, temper flushing her cheeks.

  “Knock it off. You’re upsetting him,” Jack said, giving his son to Grace.

  “I do love him, Jill. Very much.” Grace said quietly, patting their son’s back. She held Jack’s gaze, as if to make sure he knew it was true.

  He smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “I know you do.”

  “My mama. No kiss.” Little Jack pushed him away.

  Jack sighed. It looked like winning his son over would take some time. Lucky for him, he now had all the time in the world.

  “You want a coffee?” he asked his sister, once Grace had closed the door to little Jack’s room.

  His sister scowled at the closed door then returned her attention to him. “Coffee? No, I don’t want coffee. I want answers. This is bullshit, Jack. How could she do that to you?”

  “Settle down, shortstop. I got my memory back. And Grace didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t deserve,” he said, leading her to the couch.

  She pulled her hand from his. “You got your memory back?”

  “Yeah.” He raised a brow. “You’ve got some explaining to do. Since when do you lie to me?”

  She threw up her hands and flopped down on the couch. “What does it matter anymore? Grace was going to leave you.” Jill gave her head a disbelieving shake. “She really pulled one over on me. Acting like the grieving wife when all along it was her fault you left. It was her fault those bastards held you prisoner for seventeen months.”

  “What’s gotten into you? She’s your best friend. She had nothing to do with my decision to re-up. That’s on me, not her. And she had every right to be upset about it.”

  “Upset? She asked you for a divorce. You’re a frigging hero going to fight for his country, and she asks you for a divorce.”

  Murray’s comment earlier today about men who stood by their wives being the real heroes made some sense now. Not that Jack wanted to give the old man credit for having any, but he did have a point. “It was in the heat of the moment. She tried to call me a couple of hours after I left, and I was too angry to answer.” Scared that he’d screwed up the best thing in his life because he was afraid to be honest with her. The Flaherty temper that he’d learned to control through his years in the military had come back to haunt him and had nearly cost him his wife. “When I’d cooled down enough to think straight, I was going to call her. Only I didn’t get the chance.” He’d been going to get in touch with her after they’d returned to base from their mission. “She’s here, Jill. She loved me enough to wait for me. She didn’t give up on me. Seventeen months is a long
time.”

  “She didn’t…” His sister chewed on her bottom lip and glanced toward the kitchen. When she returned her gaze to his, her eyes filled. “I never gave up on you, not for a single second.”

  He put his arm around her and tugged her close. “I know you didn’t.”

  “I don’t care what you say,” she murmured into his chest. “It’s not right that Grace gave you an ultimatum. You don’t do that to someone you love. Are you sure you want to stay, Jack? Are you sure you still love her?”

  He frowned, pulling back. “Yeah, I am. What’s gotten into you? Weren’t you the one who reminded me just the other day how much I loved her? That hasn’t changed.”

  “But you deserve someone who loves you, someone who knows how lucky they are to have you.”

  His sister had a serious case of hero worship. She always put him on a pedestal, and he was getting tired of it. He didn’t deserve to be put on one. He was about to tell her that when she said, “Maria seemed to feel that way about you. And you—”

  He shot an alarmed look toward the kitchen. All he needed was for Grace to overhear his sister’s comment. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. No matter how it looked, Maria doesn’t love me, and I don’t love her. Nothing happened. I didn’t want it to,” he said. He only wished that was true.

  “That’s not how it looked to me,” his sister muttered.

  “Jill, I swear to God, if you say anything about this to Grace, I’ll never forgive you. I love my wife. I don’t want to lose her.” And he was afraid if she found out about Maria, he would. That’s why he didn’t plan on saying anything. He hadn’t responded to any of Maria’s texts or phone calls, and he wasn’t going to. Eventually, she’d give up.

  “Then you better make sure your wife doesn’t invite them all to the Fourth of July celebration. Because no matter what you think, big brother, Maria DeMarco wants you. Even Brandi commented on it during the meeting. What did she…” Jill tapped her chin. “Oh yeah, she said in the photos Maria was on you like white on rice. Called her a man-eater.”