She didn’t take it. She barely even looked at it. Suddenly his heart seemed to still and then outright panic set in. She was going to turn him down, he realized as his heart thudded dully in his chest.
Finally she glanced at the ring, then at the precariously tilting angel on the top of the Christmas tree. Pam’s angel. Her expression filled with dismay and Ken cursed his decision to propose to her in the very room where Chelsea had so recently rejected her.
He studied her face and wished he had done things differently. Gazing at last directly into her troubled eyes, he thought he saw longing. Longing and dread.
In that moment he realized that the dread would win. All of her doubts hadn’t been erased. Even a blind man should have been able to tell that. Even a fool would have had sense enough to wait. He also saw now that no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she loved Chelsea, she would never agree to marry him until his daughter gave them her wholehearted blessing, as well.
That fragile glass angel, too recently shattered, stood between them as staunchly as a wall made of stone.
Chapter 16
Ken was at a loss. How was he going to convince Beth that Chelsea would be happy about their marriage? She would never just take his word for it. She might not even take Chelsea’s word. It might require more solid proof, more bedtime stories, more spontaneous, similarly trusting gestures on his daughter’s part. In time those would add up, but Ken was impatient. He desperately wanted to find a way to prod things along.
He sat downstairs long after Beth had gone up to sleep in one of the guest rooms, alone, refusing to even consider his company beneath the pile of down comforters. He considered a dozen schemes to charm or seduce her, then dismissed them. It was past time for schemes, charm or seduction. Only honesty and straightforward actions would accomplish the results he wanted.
Ken thought he knew how Chelsea had come to feel about Beth, but it was clear that Beth didn’t trust her own assessment of the child’s feelings. An image of that shattered angel came back to haunt him.
And then he was struck by the realization that a replacement, bought with nickels and dimes and a little parental monetary assistance, and wrapped with loving if inept hands, was sitting right under the tree. Would it be enough? Would that send a message to Beth as nothing else had?
Finally, a plan beginning to form in his mind, he climbed the stairs. Hesitating outside the door to the guest room, he sighed and moved on to the beautifully decorated but incredibly lonely master suite. Despite what she thought when she chose the room down the hall, he knew that Beth would be in that king-size bed with him tonight. He would feel her presence, ache for her, as if she were physically right beside him.
Sure enough, no sooner had his head hit the pillow than his imagination went wild. He pictured her pale skin touched by moonlight, the tips of her breasts hardening beneath his touch, her legs wrapping around him as her hips rose to meet his. His body throbbed under the vivid spell she had cast over his senses.
“Damn,” he muttered, cursing her for a passionate witch.
He could see her laughing at the curse, taunting him to come closer, closer, and then holding him at bay. He moaned and buried his head under a pillow, as if that would keep out the images.
It didn’t. He was still tossing and turning, tormented by a restless, unfulfilled longing when dawn broke on what he knew was going to be the most important day of his entire life.
* * *
Beth slipped downstairs on the morning following Ken’s proposal and made yet another desperate call to Gillie.
“This is getting to be a habit,” her friend said fifteen minutes later when she had pulled up in front of the house and Beth was in the car. “I wonder if I should charge taxi rates.”
“You owe me,” Beth reminded her curtly. “I would never have gotten involved with the man in the first place, if you hadn’t neglected to tell me that Ken had a daughter.”
“I know. I thought once the two of you got to know each other it really wouldn’t matter. I figured the kind of disaster you’d been through with Peter couldn’t possibly happen a second time.” Gillie regarded her with obvious regret. “I’m sorry. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“I’ll let you know when you can stop,” Beth said dryly.
Gillie glanced away, but not before Beth caught her smile.
“Are we going for coffee?” Gillie asked.
“Might as well, unless you have to get home to take the kids to school.”
“Daniel said he’d get them there this morning.” She glanced at Beth. “Would it be considered extremely indelicate of me to point out that a woman sneaking out of a man’s house at dawn does not seem like a woman who’s protesting too much over the state of their affair?”
“There is no affair,” Beth said bleakly. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“But you stayed there last night.”
“In a guest room.”
Gillie shook her head as if to clear it. “Maybe this better wait until I have coffee.”
Beth scowled at her. “I can almost guarantee it won’t make any more sense then.”
“Let’s just see about that,” Gillie said, pulling into a space in front of Lou’s bakery. “Not another word until I have caffeine pumping through my veins.”
Beth would have let the conversation lag a whole lot longer than that, but the instant her friend had her coffee and a heavily frosted cinnamon bun, Gillie said, “Okay, what’s going on?”
Beth gave her the short version, which included only the call from Pam, the deliberately shattered angel, and Ken’s proposal.
“I see,” Gillie said slowly. She shook her head. “No, I don’t see, at all. He loves you. He proposed to you. Chelsea apologized. What do you want? If you’re waiting for a guarantee carved in stone that nothing like this will ever happen again, forget it. It will. Kids fling hateful words at their birth parents, too, whenever things don’t suit them.”
Beth regarded her with skepticism. “Jessie and Daniel Jr. have never said they hated you.”
“Jessie told me just last week she hated me and would never speak to me again,” Gillie countered.
“Why?” Beth asked, shocked.
“Because I wouldn’t let her wear her shorts and a T-shirt to school. She didn’t want to hear that it was below freezing outside.”
Beth waved it off. “But that’s just plain silly. Of course she didn’t mean it.”
“At the time she meant it. And when she said it, it hurt,” Gillie admitted. “But over the course of a lifetime, it was an insignificant, meaningless bit of rebellion. I suspect I’ll hear it again and again, especially when she wants to date, wear makeup and take the car.”
“What about Daniel Jr.?” Beth asked. The preschooler was the most placid child she’d ever seen. She couldn’t imagine him getting riled up enough to hate anything. He’d never even splattered his baby food in protest over the abominable taste.
“We exchanged several heated words during potty training,” Gillie said, grinning at her.
Beth sighed. “You think I’m making too much out of all this.”
“No. Given your past, I’d say you are being sensibly cautious.” Her gaze turned serious. “Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love Chelsea?”
Beth grinned ruefully. “Most of the time.”
“Will giving them up now hurt any less than giving them up if it doesn’t work out?”
“Probably not,” she admitted.
“Nothing of value in this life comes without risks,” Gillie observed. “You could wait around for some bachelor who’s never been married, who doesn’t have kids, and then discover that he’s still tied to Mama’s apron strings. It’s hard to find anyone our age who doesn’t come
without some sort of emotional baggage. You included, I might point out. Ken knows what you’ve been through. Isn’t he making a real effort to prove that it won’t be the same this time? Isn’t he disciplining Chelsea? Hasn’t he done everything in his power to build the bond between the two of you?”
Beth thought of all the engineered meetings, of all the space he’d given to her and Chelsea, putting his own desires on a back burner for the sake of a long-term relationship. “He’s been wonderful,” she admitted.
“Not like Peter?”
“Nothing at all like Peter,” she agreed, and suddenly she could feel hope blossoming again. Ken was infinitely wiser than Peter. He had the patience to mediate, the strength to discipline, the determination to find answers rather than to place blame. She smiled as relief and a sudden buoyant optimism sighed through her. “Thank you.”
“Does that mean I should start dieting so I can fit into a dress suitable for a fancy wedding?”
Beth shook her head. “Start looking for one you can wear as matron of honor.”
* * *
Right up until Christmas Eve, Ken worked on his plan. He’d been dismayed when he’d realized that Beth had slipped out of the house the morning after his proposal, but then he’d decided it was for the best. It would give him time to do it right the next time. He wanted the time, the setting, everything working in his favor. What could be better than Christmas morning?
He waited until he and Chelsea were exiting Christmas Eve services to approach Beth. The smile she turned on him was just a little uncertain and yet there was an unmistakable air of serenity about her. He wondered what that was all about. He could only pray that it would prove beneficial for achieving his goal.
“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Guess what?” Chelsea chimed in. “Santa Claus is coming tonight.” A worried frown suddenly puckered her brow. “He wouldn’t come while we’re not there, would he, Daddy?”
“Nope. He makes his rounds in the middle of the night, when good little boys and girls are sound asleep.”
Chelsea reached for his hand and tugged. “Then let’s hurry. I want to go to sleep, so Santa can come.”
“In just a minute. I need to ask Beth something.” He turned back to her. “Will you join us in the morning? We would really like you there when we open presents.”
“Please come,” Chelsea chimed in.
Ken was grateful for the spontaneous accord. He knew the invitation would be more likely to be successful if it clearly came from both of them.
Beth’s eyes sparkled. “I would love to. What time?”
“The earlier the better. I’m not sure how long after dawn I can contain Chelsea.”
“Then I’ll be there at dawn,” she agreed.
As she walked away, Ken uttered a sigh of relief. So far, so good. He wasn’t about to kid himself, though. The hardest part was yet to come.
* * *
On Christmas morning Ken had coffee perking by 6:00 a.m. This was one year when his impatience outpaced Chelsea’s. He’d already showered and dressed. He’d turned on the tree lights, built a fire, and played some music on low, filling the downstairs with carols.
Every five minutes he paced to the bottom of the stairs to listen for Chelsea, then walked back to the window to peer out into the darkness, hoping to see Beth’s car. He wanted Chelsea downstairs first, all dressed and ready for their guest. In another five minutes, he’d go up and wake her, he decided.
Fortunately, excitement and the softly playing music did the trick. Chelsea appeared at the top of the stairs. “Daddy, did Santa come?” she asked sleepily.
Ken met her halfway up the stairs. “He certainly did. Why don’t you put on some clothes, so you’ll look really pretty when Beth gets here? Then we can see what Santa left.”
Within minutes, Chelsea was racing down the stairs in a new dress and her best patent leather shoes. Just as they reached the living room, where piles of presents waited beneath the tree, he heard Beth’s car drive up, then the sound of her footsteps crunching through the snow. He knew that at any second she would walk through the front door.
Silently mouthing a heartfelt prayer that he could pull this off, he placed the engagement ring on the coffee table in front of Chelsea. His daughter regarded it with a frown creasing her brow.
“What’s that?”
“An engagement ring.”
“For Beth?”
He heard Beth’s footsteps come to a halt just inside the front door, which he’d left ajar for her. “Actually Beth turned it down,” he said loudly enough to be heard by anyone who happened to be eavesdropping.
Chelsea’s eyes widened. A satisfying expression of disbelief spread across her face. “She doesn’t want to marry you? Why not?”
“I think she’s worried about how you’ll feel about having her as a stepmother,” he said bluntly. It was a calculated risk. He’d learned the hard way that Chelsea could be unpredictable. But he also believed with all his heart that she adored Beth as much as he did. And an uncensored response was the only kind Beth would ever trust. He waited, his breath caught in his throat.
To his astonishment, Chelsea climbed down from the sofa and walked into the foyer. Ken followed and saw her facing down the woman in question, hands on tiny hips. Her whole body was practically quivering with indignation.
“Is it true?” she demanded.
“Is what true?” Beth asked with amazing aplomb for a woman being cross-examined by a pint-size interrogator who could hold the key to her future.
“That you don’t want to marry my daddy?”
Beth’s gaze came up and met his. “That’s not what I said.”
“Will you or won’t you?” Chelsea demanded impatiently. “He’s a great daddy.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shortstuff,” Ken said, his gaze locked with Beth’s. “So, what’s it going to be?”
Beth looked from him to Chelsea and back again. Then she hunkered down in front of the child. “Are you proposing to me on your father’s behalf, or is this what you want, too?”
Chelsea considered the question thoughtfully, while Ken held his breath. His daughter’s answer was going to make all the difference in how this unorthodox proposal turned out.
“You don’t yell at me much,” Chelsea conceded. “And you picked out a great Christmas tree.” Her gaze narrowed. “Will you ever punish me?”
“Only if you’re bad.”
“Oh,” Chelsea said, then seemed to accept the honest answer. “Can you bake chocolate-chip cookies?”
“They’re my favorite,” Beth admitted, rising to stand beside Ken.
Chelsea nodded. “Then I guess you’d make an okay stepmom.”
“Is that a yes?” Ken inquired hopefully, looking from one to the other.
“Yes,” his daughter said, and held out the ring to Beth. “Want it?”
So much for flowery words, Ken thought ruefully. Beth’s reply was so long in coming and so softly spoken that at first he wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
“Was that a yes?” he asked.
She knelt down and took Chelsea’s hands in her own. “Are you sure?”
Chelsea nodded and Beth’s gaze rose to meet his. “Then the answer is definitely yes. Yes, I will marry you.”
“All right!” Chelsea whooped. “Can we bake cookies right after we open Christmas presents?”
“We can bake them every day for the next month,” Ken said as he drew Beth and then his daughter into his arms. “First, though, don’t you have a present you’d like to give Beth?”
“Oh, yeah,” Chelsea said, running ahead of them into the living room and plucking the awkwardly wrapped gift from the pile under the tree. “This is for you from me.”
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There was a glow in Beth’s eyes that Ken could have sworn he’d never seen before.
“I wonder what this could be?” Beth said, shaking the box gently as Chelsea watched worriedly.
“Open it.”
Beth undid the ribbon with slow deliberation, almost as if she couldn’t quite bear to have this special moment end. She was just as cautious as she slipped off the paper.
Chelsea rested her hands on Beth’s knees and watched her intently. “Hurry,” she urged.
When Beth finally lifted the lid from the box and saw the angel cushioned in its nest of tissue paper, tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
Chelsea regarded her with dismay. “Don’t you like it? It’s just like the one I broke.”
Shaking her head, Beth gathered the child into her arms. “No, it’s not,” she said gently. “This one is truly special.”
“Why?” Chelsea asked.
“Because it came from you.” She tilted her head until her gaze met Ken’s. “I love you. Both of you.”
Ken swallowed hard against the emotion clogging his throat. Before he could find the words to express how it felt to share Christmas morning with the woman he loved and the daughter he adored, Chelsea broke free of Beth’s embrace and raced back to the tree. She stood there staring indecisively at all the presents, then turned back to Beth.
“I think you’re the very best present I’m going to get this year.”
“Oh, baby,” Beth whispered. “You are definitely the very best present I’m getting.” She glanced up at Ken and smiled. “And you, of course.”
He sighed. Upstaged by his daughter again. “Of course,” he said, then leaned down to kiss his bride-to-be. This, however, was one area where he definitely had the edge.
* * * * *
Once Upon a Proposal
Allison Leigh
Also by Allison Leigh
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A Weaver Christmas Gift
A Weaver Beginning
A Weaver Vow
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