by Sharon Sala
“Very good,” she said, although the guilt she was feeling threatened to choke her. “I wonder if this is from a mix.”
“Nope. It’s out of one of her old cookbooks. She collects them, you know. One of her favorite things to do is to prowl antique stores for cookbooks, although she hasn’t had a chance to do that for quite some time now. Hope is a pretty demanding little squirt.”
Mike chuckled. “Then she takes after you, boy. I well remember how many nights you kept your mother and I up. You had your days and nights turned around for a good four months. I used to tease Phyllis about finding a way to return the merchandise.”
Daniel laughed. “Yes, that’s the thing about having a family. You’d better be darn ready to give up every indulgence you once enjoyed.”
“It’s fine if you’ve had a hand in the decision to be a parent,” Phyllis said.
The smile froze on Daniel’s face.
“Mother, I’m going to chalk that up to the stress you were under tonight. But I better not ever hear you say another denigrating word to Mary or about her…do you understand?”
Phyllis paled. “I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did,” Daniel said. “And Mary didn’t tell me. I heard you myself, remember?” Then he looked at both of his parents and sighed. “She didn’t get pregnant…we did. And I couldn’t have been happier. I have been in love with Mary almost from the first date. I’d already put a down payment on an engagement ring when she told me she was pregnant. It didn’t change anything I’d planned except the date.”
Phyllis looked stunned. “But you never said…I didn’t know that—”
“Mom…I was twenty-six and long past telling you everything that went on in my life. The fact that I introduced you to Mary on our second date should have been warning enough that I was serious. How many other girls had I brought home before her?”
Phyllis frowned. “None.”
“I rest my case.”
She looked at Mike and then sighed. “And I apologize. I was wrong.”
“Fine…but I’m not the one who deserves the apology, am I?”
Phyllis stifled a groan. The last thing she wanted to do was face her daughter-in-law with this guilt. But she’d already lost a lot this night. She didn’t want to lose what was left of her family as well.
“I’ll tend to it tomorrow.”
Daniel gave her a cool look. “And I hope with more meaning than you just implied.”
Phyllis had the good grace to blush.
Chapter 3
Mary woke up on the sofa with the first rays of morning sun shining in her eyes. The last thing she remembered was sitting beside Daniel and—
Oh lord! Mike and Phyllis were here!
She sat up with a jerk and then jumped to her feet. What must they think?
When she dashed into the kitchen and found it neat and gleaming, she groaned. Another mark against her. Phyllis would find a way to insinuate how Daniel had to do all the work. She pivoted quickly and started down the hall, expecting the doors to open and see accusing fingers pointed in her direction. Instead, she was met with the soft, but familiar, sounds of muted snores from the spare bedroom.
Thankful that her in-laws were still asleep, she peeked into her bedroom. Their bed was empty and she could hear the shower running. Daniel was up and getting ready for work. His diligence at the law office was starting to pay off and she knew he didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to deny him a future partnership.
With a small sigh of relief, she moved across the hall to the nursery and pushed the door inward. Hope was lying on her back, waving her arms at the Mother Goose mobile hanging over her crib.
“Good morning, pretty girl,” Mary whispered.
The baby turned toward the sound of her mother’s voice and started to squeal.
Mary laughed as she picked Hope up and then laid her down on the changing table.
“A dry diaper and a warm bottle, in that order, little lady. How does that sound?”
Hope squinched her face into a tiny grimace and squeaked in disapproval when Mary began unsnapping the legs on her one-piece pajamas.
“Oh, it can’t be all that bad,” Mary crooned, as she deftly cleaned the baby and fastened a new diaper in place. “I’ll hurry. I promise. Okay?”
A couple of snaps later and Hope was good to go. Mary picked her up, cradling her against her chest as she walked out the door, cherishing the feel of baby curls under her chin as well as the satin-smooth texture of Hope’s delicate skin.
She met Daniel in the hall, and to her surprise, he was wearing sweats and a T-shirt, rather than his usual suit.
“Daniel, you’re going to be late.”
“I’m staying home today. I’ve already called in.”
Mary felt a small surge of panic. “Is that okay?”
He knew her fear stemmed from more than worry about his job, but there was nothing much he could do other than what he’d already done.
“It’s more than okay,” he said. “They were very sympathetic to what happened to Mom and Dad. I had no pending court cases and the paralegal is still gathering research for that brief that’s due next week, so my work will not suffer.” Then he wrapped his arms around Mary and Hope and gave both of them a quick kiss. “Besides, I’d rather spend the day with my two best girls than go sift through the constant mess of our judicial system.”
Mary nodded, but the frown on her face stayed in place as they walked toward the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep last night. What must your parents have thought?”
“That you were exhausted and that you make damned good coffee cake.”
She paused. “Really?”
He smiled and took Hope out of her arms. “Yes, really. Now go heat up Miss Thing’s bottle. I’ll feed her while you make us some coffee, okay?”
Mary’s heart swelled with love as she handed the baby to Daniel. Their dark hair and stubborn chins were so identical it was almost comical.
“Okay, and I think I should start breakfast. Your parents probably have a lot to deal with today and won’t want to be delayed.”
“Honey…take it easy,” he said. “My parents are still asleep and there are no deadlines to be met. Not in this house. Not today.”
She smiled and nodded, then took a bottle out of the refrigerator and began heating it as Daniel sat down in the window seat. Bracing his long legs against the other side of the window frame, he laid the baby down in his lap. When she stretched and then began kicking him in the stomach, he laughed. It occurred to him as he watched Mary busying herself at the sink that he was quite possibly the luckiest man alive. He thought back to yesterday—to all the turmoil that had been in their lives and how close he’d come to killing himself and Hope. If Mary hadn’t thrown herself on the hood of the car, he wouldn’t have stopped, and if he hadn’t stopped, he would have backed right into the speeding driver and the police cruiser that was in pursuit. As it was, two men had died horrible deaths, and they’d been spared.
It was still difficult for him to accept that his mother had been so mean to Mary. What was even worse was that Mary had been afraid to tell him. He tickled the little roll of fat under Hope’s baby chin and then looked up at his wife.
“Mary?”
The tremor in Daniel’s voice made Mary turn abruptly, thinking something was wrong with Hope. But the baby was momentarily pacified by the sunlight coming through the trees outside the window.
“What?”
“I love you.”
Emotion hit her like a fist to the gut.
“Oh, Daniel…I love you, too.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Do you understand?”
Mary sighed, unaware that her shoulders slumped slightly in relief. But Daniel saw it and knew that his decision to stay home today as a buffer between his mother and his wife had been wise.
“Yes, I understand,” Mary said, then lifted Hope’s bottle out of the water and dried it off before testin
g a few drops on her wrist. “It’s ready,” she said, and brought it to him.
Daniel lifted his mouth for a kiss, which she happily supplied, then groaned softly when he refused to relinquish the connection.
She knew what he wanted and the thought of lying beneath his beautiful hard body made her ache. But with their unexpected houseguests just down the hall, what they both wanted was definitely not going to happen. Finally, it was Mary who pulled back.
“Daniel…we can’t,” she whispered. “Your parents…”
He frowned as he took the bottle and poked it into Hope’s eager little mouth.
“I know. I know,” he muttered. “But this won’t be forever and when they’re gone…”
She hugged the thought to herself as she turned back to the task at hand, which would be making breakfast.
“What sounds good this morning?” she asked.
“You,” Daniel muttered. “But I’ll settle for bacon and eggs.”
She grinned and combed her fingers through his hair in a gentle, loving manner.
“And biscuits?”
He rolled his eyes in pretend passion. “Oh yeah.” Then he added. “Better double the recipe. They’re Dad’s favorite, too.”
“What about your mother?” she asked. “If she doesn’t care for them I can make her some—”
He frowned at the nervousness once again in her voice.
“Mary Faith, you do not worry about what my mother likes or dislikes again, do you hear me?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts, sweetheart. She will be thankful for whatever we serve and you will not suffer her disdain or criticisms again.”
Mary was too moved to answer. Instead, she took a large bowl from the cabinet and began assembling the ingredients for the biscuits. By the time Mike and Phyllis were up, she was dishing up the scrambled eggs and taking the biscuits from the oven.
“Man, oh, man,” Mike said, as he entered the kitchen. “A guy could get used to waking up to food like this.”
Daniel eyed the slight shock in his mother’s eyes and took no small amount of satisfaction in answering.
“I already have,” Daniel said. “Mary is a super cook.” Then he handed the baby to his mother. “Morning, Mom. Here, say hi to your granddaughter and see if you can get a burp out of her while I help Mary get the food to the table.”
Phyllis was torn between jealousy and devotion. It had been years since she’d gone out of her way to fix breakfasts like this, and the comment Mike had made went straight to her conscience. But the smiles of delight on her granddaughter’s face rechanneled her focus. She settled the baby on her shoulder and began patting her back as she took a seat at the breakfast table. As she sat, she watched and she listened, and not for the first time since their arrival, began to wonder if she could have been wrong.
“Mary.”
Mary jumped at the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice, then turned abruptly, almost dropping the load of clean bath towels she was carrying.
“Yes?”
Phyllis sighed. The anxious expression in Mary’s dark eyes was nobody’s fault but her own. She reached for the towels.
“Let me help do that.”
“No, please,” Mary said. “It’s just a load of laundry. I can do it.”
Phyllis frowned. “I’m well aware that you’re capable, girl, but it’s your third load, and frankly, I haven’t seen you sit down since breakfast. Besides that, isn’t your hand still sore?”
Mary glanced down at the bandage on the finger she’d cut yesterday.
“Well, yes, but it’s healing.”
Phyllis took the clean laundry from Mary’s arms.
“We’ll fold them on your bed, okay?”
Reluctantly, Mary followed her into the bedroom. When Phyllis dumped the towels on the bed, Mary took a deep breath and moved to the opposite side. For a few minutes, they worked in silence. It wasn’t until the last washcloth had been folded that Phyllis laid it aside and then sat.
“Mary, there’s something I want to say to you.”
Mary flinched. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation, but with Daniel and his father gone to the insurance agency, she was all alone. She gathered up the stack of clean towels and carried them into the bathroom, then put them away. When she turned around, Phyllis was standing there with the hand towels and washcloths.
“Thank you,” Mary said, and put them into the linen cabinet beside the towels.
Phyllis nodded. “You’re very neat,” she said, eyeing the even rows of linens inside the cabinet.
“Thank you. I suppose it comes from living in foster homes.”
“What do you mean?”
Mary shrugged. “Well, I never knew how long I would be allowed to stay, so always having my things neatly together made it simpler to pack when social services moved me.”
Phyllis frowned. “You never knew your parents, did you?”
“I remember my mother,” Mary said. “At least, I think I do. But I was so small when they took me away.” Then she turned, looking Phyllis square in the face. “She didn’t give me away, you know. She died of cancer.”
Phyllis sighed. “You’ve had a difficult life, haven’t you?”
“From your standpoint, I suppose so. But I never knew anything else.” Then her expression softened. “But now I have Daniel and Hope. They…and you and Mike…are my family now.” Then she took a deep breath, needing to get the rest of this said before she chickened out. “I know you and Mike wanted better for Daniel. But I love him. So much. And I would never do anything to hurt him or make trouble for him. He and Hope are my life.”
Phyllis felt like a heel. “Yes, I can see that,” she said. “I’ve not been fair to you and I’m sorry.” Then she turned away and walked back into the bedroom.
Mary hurried after her. “It’s okay,” she said. “Really.”
Phyllis turned. “No, dear, it’s not okay. I’ve been horrible to you, but given time, I will make it right. I hope you forgive me?”
Mary’s eyes welled. “Oh, Phyllis, thank you,” she cried, and impulsively threw her arms around her mother-in-law’s neck.
Phyllis hesitated briefly, then returned the embrace.
“It’s me who should be thanking you,” she said softly. “You have a generous heart, my dear. Daniel and Hope are lucky to have you.”
Lucky to have you…lucky to have you…lucky…
A car horn blared, followed by a burst of angry curses and then the squealing of tires on pavement.
Mary jerked.
Reality and fantasy were beginning to separate within her mind and all she could think was not yet. Not yet. But no matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t hold on to the dream. Her head was spinning, her legs weak at the knees.
“Daniel,” she moaned.
But there was no answer, only the smell of old wood and dust. In that instant, she knew it was gone. She opened her eyes.
The antique shop. She was still standing in the antique shop and Mike and Phyllis O’Rourke hadn’t spoken to her since the day of the funeral six years ago.
In that moment, what had been left of her spirit died, too. There was nothing in her life but an emptiness that all the jobs and all the busy work would never fill. The only people who’d ever loved her were dead and she wanted to be with them.
With a shuddering sob, she stared down at the ring on her finger. The engraving—I promise you forever—was a joke. Hating herself and life in general, she tore it off and flung it back into the case. There was no such thing as forever.
“No more,” she muttered. “I can’t do this…I don’t want to do this. Not anymore.”
She turned, only to find the old man staring at her from the end of the counter.
“I don’t want the ring. I put it back,” she muttered, and pointed in the general direction of the case. “I have to go.” But her feet wouldn’t move. She seemed helpless beneath the compassion of his gaze. Her eyes filled with te
ars. “You don’t understand. They’re dead, you know. They’re all dead but me.”
Then her composure broke and she started to cry.
Love doesn’t die.
Mary stared. Although she’d heard the words, his lips had not moved. When he started toward her, shuffling his tiny little feet on the dusty, planked floor, she wanted to run, but he was blocking her only exit.
“Don’t,” she muttered, although she didn’t quite know why she said it.
He’d made no move to harm her and had yet to say a word. When he reached in his pocket, she caught herself holding her breath. But when he pulled out a neatly ironed linen handkerchief and laid it in her hands, she felt shame that she’d feared him.
“Oh God,” she moaned, and bent her head.
At the same time, she felt a hand at the crown of her head and then the old man was stroking her hair, as he might have a child. Mary shuddered as she lifted the handkerchief to her face and wiped away tears. What had she been thinking, behaving this way in front of a stranger? When she looked up, he was gone. The only proof she had that he’d been there was the handkerchief she was holding.
“Lord,” she muttered. “I probably embarrassed him horribly.”
She laid the handkerchief aside and started to weave her way through the narrow aisle, anxious to be away from this place. She’d been crazy to come in here to begin with. All it had done was remind her of what she’d lost. She wouldn’t let herself think about why the dream had been different this time, because it didn’t really matter. Her reality was a living hell and it hadn’t changed.
The front door was open and she headed for it like a moth to a flame.
Out.
She needed out.
Away from the memories.
Away from the pain.
She fixed her gaze on the rug of sunlight spreading across the threshold and told herself that if she didn’t breathe until she passed it, all the pain would go away. It wasn’t the first time she’d played such a mind game with herself, but she was brought up short from escaping when a curly-haired little girl burst into the building.
“Mommy! Mommy!”