aherospromise_211-3e3.htm

by A Hero's Promise (lit)

  "Can I get you anything?"

  She stared at him, awash with conflicting emotions. In her mind’s eye she rushed him with a heart-smothering hug. Instead, she just ogled.

  The jeans were new and seductively snug, leaving nothing to the imagination; his snap-buttoned western shirt was carefully tucked in, and he was actually wearing leather boots.

  "You never told me you were a cowboy."

  "Let’s keep it our secret. How was the flight?"

  "Boring." She crawled off of the bed now and retrieved the first of her three suitcases.

  "Here, let me get that," Dane said, easily hoisting the heavy case onto the bed. "Jesus, woman, what the hell you got in here?"

  "Just clothes."

  "Planning to stay awhile, are you?" he asked with a grin.

  "Maybe." Jessica turned to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. "You did clear out all those other women’s clothes?"

  "All cleared." He stood behind her, and she was suddenly affected by his proximity. His outline in the mirror, taller and slightly to the side, melded with hers seamlessly, looking as natural as if… as if it had always been that way.

  Impulsively she whirled about and hugged him, then tore away to begin her unpacking. From the corner of her eye she watched as he left her, a bemused smile on his lips and shaking his head.

  Dinner was a cheerful affair, with everyone around a six-foot diameter, solid ash table. While it wasn’t immediate, Jessica began to relax as the night wore on, and she was more than ready for a restful night’s sleep at 10:30 p.m.

  It would be the first night Jessica would remember sleeping the entire night since Dane’s visit to the lighthouse.

  Twenty

  Cappen Catchup Pops the Question

  Wyoming was good.

  Without being intrusive, Dane saw to their every need, coming in and out of the frames that made up Jessica’s days and evenings. He made good his promise to teach Devon, on a small scale, the ways of the great outdoors, and with Alexander on his other side the three became a team of wilderness explorers not to be reckoned with by the females of the house.

  There was a happy camaraderie at the ranch. Peter and Lydia faced-off daily in a comic show of one-upmanship when it came to arranging meals, shopping and even deciding what occasional video the children would watch in the thirty-seat screening room at the rear of the house.

  Dane seemed delighted enough just having them there; he made no overtures, and Jessica decided her life had taken a turn for the better at last. Comfort was the by-word of the day, the week, the month.

  By May Day the snow was melting; only patches of the mostly dirty cold stuff remained along the sides of the narrow road leading to the ranch. A blindingly white sun splashed warmth on Jessica as she took a now daily walk to the stream just before lunch.

  In the pocket of her patchwork quilted jacket was the wrinkled scratch paper Nadine Carvey had given her. Finally mustering her courage, she had dialed the number early this morning and was now puzzling over the answer she had received.

  Expecting a business, a private residence or most likely, a blind answering machine, Jessica was completely tongue-tied when an automated voice offered to direct her call to the proper office at the Minnesota State House of Representatives. She hung up quickly, her mind tangled in confusion.

  "Bizarre," she whispered, jotting down the name carefully on the back of the paper and tucking it into her pocket.

  Now, as she walked along the creek side, she pondered the implication. Was it possible that Charlene was dating a politician?

  Dinner was to be pizza and root beer, Dane had decided, when Jessica returned to the house that afternoon. Peter had gallantly offered to escort Lydia to a movie in town, and Greg normally ate alone in his small caretaker’s quarters beyond the barn.

  The boys were entirely willing, as it was, to eat pizza until they could hold no more, and after the last slice had been consumed Alexander brought out a selection of board games.

  Reluctant at first, Jessica finally took the fourth seat at the game table and rolled the dice. Soon she was happily caught up in the game, delighted by her son’s shining eyes and her benefactor’s contented smile.

  She could not remember ever seeing Dane so at ease.

  "I think it was Captain Ketchup, he did it with the egg beater, in the… in the attic!" Dane announced.

  "Daa-ad…" Alexander complained, rolling his eyes. "There’s no Captain Ketchup."

  "Yeah Uncle Dane, there’s no Cappen Catch up…" Devon mimicked Alexander’s exasperated expression and Jessica giggled.

  "Aw, you guys just don’t know how to play this game," Dane admonished with a smile. "You gotta be creative."

  "How could you kill somebody with a egg beater?" Alexander demanded.

  "Well, it would be a lot more interesting than with a stupid ‘lead pipe’."

  "The candlestick is my personal favorite," Jessica said, folding her hands demurely.

  Dane winked at her. "A true romantic."

  Soon it was yawns all around and Jessica ushered the boys upstairs for a bedtime story. Devon did not make it past page three, and Alexander was fading by the end of the book.

  In her bedroom, Jessica washed up and changed into a satin nightshirt and matching shorts. Then, realizing she had left her magazine downstairs, she went down to the living room to retrieve it. As she was returning to her bedroom, she noticed a light coming from the office down the hall. Hoping to find Dane, she decided to investigate.

  The light was from the small, green-glass banker’s lamp on the massive oak desk. Dane sat with his back to the door.

  "Hey, Cappen Catch up," Jessica began, pausing in the doorway.

  Dane spun about in the broad, leather executive chair, a look of surprised delight crossing his face. "Come on in," he said, then turned back to the object of his attention.

  It was a wooden box, Jessica could see as she drew closer to the desk. It was about the size of a shoebox with a hinged lid, ornately carved with letters across the front spelling "Mother". Inside the box were photographs.

  "Whatcha doin’?" Jessica asked, hopping up to sit on the empty corner of the desk.

  "The old memory-lane thing. I was looking for a picture I told Alex about, a horse I used to ride when I was a kid--and I got hooked…" He swept up a handful of photos from the desk and handed them to her.

  Jessica could not keep the smile from her lips. "This is you? What an ornery little devil."

  "As you can see, I haven’t changed."

  "This is your mother…" Jessica leaned closer to the light to get a better look. "… and your dad. Wow. You look like him."

  "So they said." Dane began digging in the box again. "Here. This is my favorite." He withdrew a photo, its color faded and the corners worn.

  "They look so happy," Jessica said softly, her eyes looking from one face to the other and misting over in the process. "Were they?"

  Dane turned his own eyes briefly on to hers. "Blissfully. This was taken right before… you know, the accident."

  Jessica nodded. "You had a happy childhood?"

  "Yeah. I did, as a matter of fact. It was so good, I used to worry that something would happen. At night, I would lay awake hoping that a bomb wouldn’t land on our house, or a hurricane knock it down or something."

  "A hurricane. In Southern California."

  "I was neurotic, what can I say?"

  Jessica giggled at the rosy blush that colored Dane’s cheeks, then looked back at the photograph. "They really loved each other, you can tell even from the picture."

  "Yup. In a way, as bad as it hurts, it was at least good that they went together. Even though I would have given my own life for her to have survived, I know she would have been miserable forever without Dad. She always used to talk about how they would grow old together."

  "That is so sad," Jessica said.

  "I was going with Rita at the time. I once asked Mom about whether or not I should marry Ri
ta, and she asked me if I could see myself growing old with her."

  "And? Could you?"

  Dane shook his head slowly. "All I could think about was, years and years of guaranteed sex."

  Comically outraged, Jessica gave his shoulder a punch. "That’s typical."

  "I was twenty years old. Almost half my life ago." He paused, as if weighing his next words. "What about you? Did you think about that growing-old shit?"

  "I can’t tell you what I was thinking when I married Wes. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Of course my folks tried to talk me out of it, but I just wanted to be out, you know? But the night before the wedding, I had second thoughts."

  Dane nodded, and Jessica knew where his thoughts were heading. It was the same place her own were. "I guess I never expected that I wouldn’t grow old with Mac. I didn’t think too much about the future, really. Except that… oh, never mind."

  "Except what?"

  "It’s stupid."

  "Can’t be."

  Jessica looked down at her bare knees, avoiding Dane’s prying eyes. She wanted to confide, wanted badly to tell him about her fears. The power he had over her was almost palpable; she felt him drawing her in. "I had a worry, too. I was afraid, somewhere really deep inside, that he would leave me someday." Her own voice sounded like a child’s, and she swallowed. "If he ever got mad about something, I worried that it was my fault."

  "Did he get mad very often?" Dane’s words were guardedly concerned, gentle.

  "No. Not really." Jessica straightened, and squared her shoulders. Boldly she looked into his eyes. "I don’t know why I even brought it up. Anyway--" she continued, handing him back the photo, "that’s a love to be cherished."

  Dane nodded slowly, then sighed. "You know I’m going to be thirty-nine soon?"

  Relieved that he allowed a change in subject, Jessica laughed nervously. "Old man," she chided.

  "Indeed." Lightly he ran his fingertips across the glossy finish on the photo. "And I want that. I want that for myself."

  "That?"

  "I want what they had."

  "You’d better get busy and find somebody then," Jessica warned. "You’re not getting any younger."

  "Oh, I’ve already found somebody. There’s just one problem."

  The smile on Jessica’s face remained frozen there, but a very definite knot was twisting her stomach into a bow. "Problem?" her lips repeated, when inside her mind was racing around the words "I’ve… found somebody."

  Dane began gathering up the snapshots and carefully putting them back into the box. "I made this in wood shop for my mom. Back in high school. Maybe it was junior high."

  "It’s very nice. You were talking about a problem?"

  "Hmmm? Oh, yeah. This girl, uh, woman, she’s already told me she doesn’t ever want to get married again. I can’t say as I blame her, she’s had a really tough time."

  Jessica could feel every ounce of blood draining from her face, and a static hiss was growing in her ears. Dane was looking at her now, concerned, watching her expression intently.

  "You okay?"

  "Sure. Of course."

  "Oh. Good. Anyway, you know…" He paused, carefully peeling her white-knuckled fingers from the edge of the desk and smoothing her palm against his own. "If this lady was to reconsider that rather rash decision, I would promise her my very best behavior. I’d promise her a lifetime of devotion."

  As enlightenment filled her head, so did the blood rushing back into her face. Jessica’s lips parted slightly, her eyebrows lifting so that she knew she must look just like Lucille Ball.

  "‘Course, if she doesn’t reconsider, I’ll have to understand. I’m not much of a prize, after all." Despite the normally comic, self-depreciating comment, Dane’s voice was soft and completely sober. "It’s a big decision. There are kids involved… you know."

  Jessica struggled to find a voice. Her hand, now pressed gently between his, craved his warmth.

  "You’re really serious this time, aren’t you?" she finally managed.

  "I was serious last time. I’ve… always… been serious."

  "I see."

  Dane brought her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles and the bare space on her ring finger. "So, what say ye? Is the galley maid willing to take a chance on the dread pirate?" Then, more softly, "You wanna be my girl, Jess?"

  She brought her free hand up to her face, pressing three trembling fingers against her lips.

  "I’m just so--so stunned. I don’t know what to say, just yet…"

  "Think it over." Carefully he released her hand, then pushed back in his chair and stood up. He stared at her for a few moments, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "At the risk of sounding trite, we could have a real family." He paused to wet his lips. "You, me and the boys--it could be… really, really nice."

  Jessica felt rooted to the desk. But when Dane again approached her, she was able to drop her feet to the floor and stand before him.

  Dane placed a hand on each of her shoulders, looking down at her solemnly. "Look, am I on Mars or something? If I am, just tell me, Jess. I won’t get mad, I won’t hold you responsible, I won’t ever bother you about--"

  "Shut up," she said, placing her hand over his mouth. "I’m the one who’s been on Mars. Let’s--let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

  He smiled then, and they both felt the relief. Jessica hugged him, pressing her cheek hard against his chest and closing her eyes. As she started to draw away, he caught her forearm and gently pulled her back to him.

  "Oh yeah," he said, sliding his fingers firmly around the small of her back and pressing her lower half against his. "The proposal comes with this."

  The naked emotion in his eyes startled an already shaken Jessica, but she was ready for the kiss, willingly exchanging a little of her power for an equal portion of his. One long, sumptuous kiss, filling her with a passion she almost wished she didn’t feel. Almost.

  When at last he drew his lips away, Jessica dared one last look into Dane’s eyes before running from the room.

  ~ * ~

  Jessica listened as the small mantel clock in her bedroom counted off three bells. The storm had sneaked in during the night, and a steady rain fell upon the roof above. Back in her sweats, she tiptoed downstairs and curled herself into the rocker, the fireplace now only a glowing memory of an earlier blaze.

  She knew she would never sleep again.

  The few restful weeks she’d had with Dane in this house were now just a blur, a bit of unimportant history in light of the new challenge before her.

  Dane had re-entered her life in a big way. Not only had he effected untold benefits on her son, he had rocked her very core. And now, his talk of a future together had presented an enigma she was ill prepared to solve.

  "I want what they had." The words still rang in her ears, in her heart. A part of her was reeling with immeasurable joy; a part of her was filled with unbelievable remorse.

  She twisted in the chair, hoping to find a more comfortable position. In her hand she clutched a postcard. She pulled it out now, turning it over to read the words in the dim ember-light.

  "Wish you were here," he had written. "Love, Dane."

  Well, it didn’t really say "Dane". Rather, a large "D" followed by a squiggly line. But it clearly read "Love".

  And therein lay the problem, she finally realized. When someone asked you to marry them, shouldn’t they say, "I love you" first?

  She didn’t doubt that he loved her. His caring was obvious. But did he love her the right way, enough to sustain that lifetime of devotion he’d offered?

  Perhaps he was truly only seeking someone with whom to settle. A "growing old" partner. His mother’s legacy.

  No, Jessica labored under the possibly old-fashioned belief that to marry, you must be in love, and she wasn’t sure Dane was in love with her. No matter that she wasn’t quite sure she was in love with him.

  And even if she was… would it be right, considering
all that had happened? Would she ever be able to forget, or at least set aside the pain of the past?

  "You know, I almost like you Pierce, but you’re bad news--and I don’t ever want to see your face here again, you got that?"

  "Go ahead, MacKendall, finish the job. Finish what you started in Amande." Dane had baited. "Come on, if it’ll make you feel better."

  But nothing had ever made Mac feel better about Jessica and Dane’s friendship. Up until the very day he left for Minneapolis, the cloud had lingered above them, tainting their marriage to the smallest degree.

  Love or no love, could she even consider marrying the man responsible?

  Twenty-one

  A Matter of Commitment

  The woman pushed her shopping cart forward aggressively, impatiently dodging other carts as she gathered her week’s groceries.

  Packaged, single-serving frozen dinners. Soup For One. A quart of milk. Cup O’Lunch.

  It was the same every week. Except that this week, her cart held one additional item: a chocolate cupcake in a small pink bakery box. It was, after all, her thirtieth birthday.

  No one knew of course, except perhaps her sister. Her older, decidedly mean sister.

  At the cash register, she tapped her foot while waiting for a chatty couple to finish their business with the checker. Her eyes darted swiftly across the covers of the magazines displayed beside her basket. Tempted to buy TV Guide, her hand wavered; no. It was a waste of money when the newspaper gave her one for free. It was different than the days when she bought the magazine in hopes of gaining a new snapshot of him.

  Now, there would be no new photos. Not ever.

  Pushing her basket forward just enough to slightly bump the one ahead, she paused when a cover on the lower rack caught her eye. The tabloid section. She usually ignored them; this one she could not.

  Whipping the splashy periodical off the rack, she tossed it into her cart. She couldn’t wait to get home to read the front-page story.

  Irma Carvey lived on the third floor apartment across the street from her office. Edgy, she carried the bag of groceries up three flights rather than wait for the sluggish elevator.