“MOM DIDN’T LIKE the burger?” Mickey asked.
Trace could hardly blame her; considering the way things were going, he had no appetite, either. “She wasn’t hungry,” he told Mickey gently.
“I suppose she’s too nervous to eat, huh, on account of the wedding is in an hour,” Jason theorized.
“I don’t think it was that, exactly.” Trace poured himself some juice.
“She’s upset about having to marry you, isn’t she?” Scott supposed quietly as he polished off an apple.
Trace nodded and, glass in hand, sat down at the kitchen table with the boys. “My uncle Max meant well when he cooked up this plan to get us back together,” he told them honestly, “but it isn’t working out the way he planned.”
“It could, if you weren’t so quick to give up,” Scott said casually.
“Who says I’m giving up?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Nate asked as he finished drinking the last of his milk. “I mean, you’re getting married in a little over an hour, but you still look like you lost out on the best deal in your entire life.”
“That’s ‘cause I have and we’re not just talking about Susannah,” Trace muttered.
Nate paused. The four boys exchanged glances. Finally, Scott asked, “Did something happen to the Farraday deal, too?”
Trace nodded, knowing they would all find out soon enough, anyway, and briefly explained. “It didn’t happen.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “How come?” he gasped.
“Because I left before it could be completed,” Trace explained.
“You’re kidding, right?” Nate said.
Trace shook his head. “The bottom line is that some things—like the safety and welfare of a man’s family and the happiness of the woman he loves—are more important than business.” Unfortunately, he had come to that knowledge too late.
“Did you tell Mom about giving up the business deal?” Scott asked.
In every situation, there was a time to keep going, and a time to admit failure. Though it killed him to admit it, this was one of the times when persevering would be about as helpful as spinning the wheels of his Jeep in the mud. Trace finished his juice, and pushed away from the table. “Look, guys, I know you’re trying to help,” he said as he began to clear the table.
“More than that,” Nate interrupted, leaping in to help, placing dishes in the dishwasher. “We’re trying to get you to live up to your responsibilities.”
“And follow through on this, all the way,” Scott chimed in as he too, began to load the dishwasher.
Watching the way Scott pitched in and also cared for the other guys, Trace could see that Susannah had done a fine job parenting their son.
“What was it you said when we had that water fight, that combining two families under one roof required a team effort and we weren’t doing our share,” Jason reminded.
“Well, what about you now? Are you doing your share?” Mickey asked with wide-eyed innocence.
It was all Trace could do not to flush guiltily. “I’ve already talked to her.”
“So?” Scott said.
“Talk to her again,” Jason suggested.
“Yeah,” Nate said. “Tell her you gave up that deal to come and save us.”
Trace wished it were that simple. But it wasn’t. Belatedly, he’d realized he had handled everything incorrectly from the beginning. Instead of demanding Susannah marry him, as some sort of vengeful punishment for the way she had once walked out on him and taken their son from him, he should have asked her why she had done what she did, and listened to what she had to say.
Because if he had done that right from the start, he would’ve understood how scared she’d been then, how scared she still was, and he would have courted her from the start, diligently and with tender loving care, and convinced her to marry him. Not because they had to get married, to share the rearing of their son, but because it was the right thing to do, because as different as they were, they still belonged together.
But he hadn’t done any of that. And he could not go back and change that any more than he could change what had transpired between them seventeen years ago. There were some wounds that were simply too deep to heal.
He swallowed. Aware that the boys were waiting for him to continue, he said with genuine regret, “I’m sorry, guys, but it’s too late. I’ve mishandled everything.” He shook his head sadly. “Susannah will never forgive me for the many, many mistakes I made where she was concerned.”
“You’re wrong, Trace,” Mickey said.
“Yeah,” Scott chimed in. “Our mom is the quickest person to forgive that we know. Take our water-balloon fight, or even our disobeying you guys this morning and going down to have a look at the river. She was upset with us, and she had a right to be, but she got over it really fast. And you know why? ‘Cause she loves us and she knows it’s okay to make mistakes, to be human, that when you do something wrong, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, right what you can and then go on.”
Trace shrugged as they finished tidying the kitchen in record time. “Sounds like good advice,” he said.
“You bet your bottom dollar it is,” Nate agreed.
“So what makes this situation any different?” Jason asked.
Trace realized the four boys just might have a point.
00:59
“DAD IS REALLY SAD on account of us,” Nate told Susannah the moment she walked out onto the deck to dry her hair in the sun.
Susannah perched on an adirondack chair and ran a comb through her hair. “What in the world makes you think that?”
“’Cause we messed everything up by running off to see the white water this morning,” Jason replied. “And made him blow his business deal and everything.”
Susannah blinked. “What are you talking about?”
All four boys exchanged trepidant glances. Finally, Nate said reluctantly, “He didn’t get that property he wanted.”
“Are you sure about that?”
The boys nodded solemnly. “He told us,” Mickey said, looking worried.
Susannah paused in the act of combing the ends of her bobbed hair into a bell-shaped curve. “He didn’t say anything to me about that.” Surely he would have, especially since she knew how much that deal had meant to him.
Nate shrugged, looking almost as perplexed as she felt. “I guess he figured it wasn’t important, with us missing and all.”
“Yeah, we’re sorry if we caused you any trouble,” Jason added, digging the toe of his sneaker into the deck.
“I’m sure your father can finish the deal with Sam Farraday if he just explains what happened,” Susannah soothed. She couldn’t imagine a business deal Trace could not achieve.
“I don’t think so,” Scott said glumly.
“He didn’t act that way,” Mickey agreed.
“Besides, it isn’t the business deal that fell through that has him really upset,” Jason theorized.
“It’s his fight with you, Susannah,” Nate agreed.
Was it possible, Susannah wondered, beginning to hope despite herself, that Trace cared more about her than any business deal? She regarded all four boys gathered around her. “How do you know that?” she asked steadily.
“The way you guys were glaring at each other when you came to rescue us,” Nate replied.
“It was pretty clear you’d been fighting about how come we were in that mess in the first place,” Scott added quietly.
“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “Dad thought it was your fault, you thought it was his, you know the drill.”
Once again, she was surprised at the accurate assessment of the situation. Knowing the only way to reassure the boys was to be as honest as possible with them, Susannah admitted softly, “That’s true, guys. We did think that way at first, but it was just because we were afraid something awful was going to happen to you kids. As soon as we knew you were all right, we stopped blaming each other for your temporary lapse in judgment.”
&
nbsp; “But you’re still ticked off at each other,” Jason persisted.
For reasons that went far beyond the morning’s mishap, Susannah thought. But not wanting the boys upset by any of the difficulties between herself and Trace, she hedged, “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
“It doesn’t matter if you say it or not,” Nate persisted.
“Yeah,” Scott agreed. “We can feel it.”
Aware her hair was nearly dry, Susannah stood. “I’m sorry we’ve upset you with our quarrel. That is something your dad and I never meant to do.”
“It’s not the quarrel that’s upset us, it’s your not making up after the quarrel that is getting to us,” Nate said. “Mom and Dad used to disagree about stuff. But they always talked about it and cleared things up right away.”
“How come you and Trace don’t do that?” Mickey asked.
“Don’t you want us to be together and live under one roof?” Jason persisted.
“’Cause we could’ve sworn by the way you two were always kissing and smiling at each other that you guys did want that,” Scott concluded.
Susannah flushed. “We did.”
“Then, what happened?” Jason asked.
“I don’t know,” Susannah said wistfully as she tightened her fingers around the teeth of the comb. “Things just sort of fell apart, the same way they did before.”
“Did you try to fix them before?”
“Not really,” Susannah replied slowly. Not the way I wished we had.
“Well, then, that being the case, don’t you think you should this time?” Nate said. “I mean, if you and Dad care about each other at all…” His voice trailed off unhappily.
“I do love Trace, guys,” Susannah told the boys. I always have and always will. And maybe if he had loved her, too, in the same way, they might have worked things out. But the way things had transpired, she didn’t see that ever happening. And who could blame him, after she had betrayed him not once, but two, even three times. First by leaving, second by not telling him they were going to have a baby, third by walking out at the last minute on their remarriage plans, after he had already sacrificed a business deal that meant a lot to him as part of the price of being with her and their boys. “But this time, I’ve done something unforgivable and he isn’t going to forgive me.”
“Have you asked him?”
Susannah flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not the kind of thing you ask, guys. Either it happens in here—” Susannah pointed to her heart “—or it doesn’t.”
Nate shrugged and pushed his glasses a little higher on the bridge of his nose. “Dad always says sometimes you gotta take a chance. And Dad can’t do anything for you if you don’t give him a chance. He’s not a mind reader, you know. He says that to us all the time. You have to tell him what you need.”
“Yeah, be blunt,” Jason chimed in. “Dad likes it when people tell him what they need to succeed, because then he can just go right out and make it happen.”
That did sound like Trace.
“Well?” all four boys asked breathlessly at once.
Susannah knew there was one thing she wanted from Trace, a second chance to do over this new beginning of theirs, and to do it right this time. But was it too late? Uncle Max had told them in his will there was no use crying over spilt milk. He had advised them to listen to their hearts, because if they did, they would know what to do. She knew what her heart was telling her to do.
Susannah glanced at her watch. She and Trace still had time for a private conversation. And more. That was, if he was willing to hear her out. “Is your father dressed?” she asked anxiously.
“Oh, we almost forgot.” Jason slapped his forehead.
“There’s a button on his shirt that got ripped off,” Nate said.
“Yeah,” Mickey chimed in.
“He asked you to come, and bring your sewing kit,” Scott relayed the message lazily.
Susannah blinked. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t imagine Trace asking her for any favors. Nor could she imagine the ever-efficient Cisco Kidd delivering wedding clothes to the lake house that were not in tip-top condition: Susannah’s wedding gown sure was. On the other hand, maybe it was just an excuse on Trace’s part, to talk to her, and try again. At least she could hope.
“But you better hurry.” Nate consulted his watch.
“Yeah,” Mickey agreed as Scott nodded solemnly at his side.
“We don’t want to miss the wedding,” Jason said.
Chapter Twelve
00:51
“Okay, where’s the button?” Susannah asked as she swept into the master bedroom, the full skirt of her white satin wedding dress rustling around her, her travel sewing kit in hand.
Trace emerged from the adjacent bathroom, starched white tuxedo shirt in one hand, a small white button in another. The hair on his chest glowed golden against the suntanned hue of his skin. As he regarded her curiously, the bunched muscles in his chest and shoulders tensed. “How’d you know about that?” he asked, his gaze drifting lazily over the fitted lacy bodice, short off-the-shoulder cap sleeves and portrait neckline of her dress.
Susannah drew in a whiff of his cologne as she neared. He was never sexier than when half-dressed. “The same way I know everything around here—” her lips curved in an amused smile “—our young grapevine of perpetual information. They said you needed some sewing help.”
Trace handed over both shirt and button. He sat down on the edge of his bed, watched as Susannah settled next to him. “I admit I wasn’t having much luck paper-clipping it closed.”
They turned at the sound of a door closing, and then a soft click and a thud. Trace quirked an eyebrow, as did she. Without warning, Susannah’s heart was racing.
“You part of that?” he drawled.
“No,” Susannah replied cautiously, wondering if he was feeling even half as reckless as she felt. “You?”
Trace shook his head.
Her heart pounding at this unexpected development, Susannah rose and gracefully retraced her steps. She cocked her ear and bent toward the door. The sounds of whispering and giggling could be heard on the other side. Generally speaking, this was not a good sign. “Okay, guys, what’s going on?” she demanded, trying hard not to be amused by the obvious matchmaking of their children.
Utter silence.
Susannah tugged on the knob. As expected, it didn’t budge. She turned around to look at Trace, a new wave of color sweeping into her cheeks. She cleared her throat delicately. “It would appear we are locked in.”
Trace scowled and started to rise.
“Guys, this isn’t funny,” Susannah warned lyrically through the closed door as Trace stealthily made his way to her side.
“Tell us about it!” Jason said.
“Yeah!” Mickey enthused.
“We’re taking matters into our own hands!” Nate vowed.
“You two are grounded until you make up!” Scott added.
More nervous laughter followed.
Listening, Trace looked more than a little irritated. “Guys, let us out,” Trace ordered.
“No way, Dad. We want you two together and we’ve all decided to do whatever it takes to make sure that happens,” Jason said.
There was a pause, and then Nate finished, “I know Uncle Max would’ve approved.”
“We’ll be waiting in our rooms,” Mickey said.
“The way we see it, you’ve got approximately ten minutes to make up, if we still want to get to the wedding on time,” Scott finished.
Footsteps receded down the hall.
Trace leaned against the door, suddenly seeming in no particular hurry to get out of there. His deep blue eyes lasered in on hers. “Sounds like they’ve planned this out well.”
“They are our kids,” Susannah smiled. “What could we expect?”
They stared at each other in silence. The silence gave way to sheepish smiles. Susannah knew Trace understood kids as well as she did. And their kids wanted them
together, too. The question was, what did Trace want? Suddenly, she was almost afraid to find out.
Chin high, she headed back to the sewing kit she’d left on the bed. “As long as I’m here, and we have a few minutes, I might as well sew on that button for you,” she murmured.
Trace followed her lazily and sat down opposite her. He watched her thread a needle and tie a knot on the end. “You don’t mind?”
Susannah centered the button on the shirt, and aware her hands were trembling just a tad, made the first stitch. “All you had to do was ask.”
Trace stood and paced to the window and back. “If only our relationship was this uncomplicated in all areas.”
“It could be,” Susannah replied, quickly moving the needle in and out of the buttonholes.
Trace’s glance fell to her hands before returning to her face. He eyed her determinedly. “I’m listening,” he said with a quiet implacability that sent shivers of awareness racing down her spine.
It was time to risk or spend the rest of her life regretting. “Remember when you asked me to help you draw up a marriage contract for us, so you would know what my expectations were?” she told him emotionally as she finished sewing the button and snipped the thread.
Trace grimaced apologetically. He held out his arms as she stood, stepped behind him and helped him into his shirt. “It was a dumb idea,” he said, turning around to face her. Nimbly, he began to button his shirt. “We don’t need to spell out what goes on in our relationship every minute of every day, in order to make our marriage work.”
Our marriage. Present tense. Did that mean he hadn’t entirely given up on them, either? Susannah wondered with trepidation.
“On the other hand,” she said, almost too casually, watching as he tucked the tails of his shirt into his black tuxedo pants, zipped them up and redid his belt buckle. “It helps to know your partner’s expectations, in business or personal life.”
She stepped nearer to help him with his tie. “It’s not so out-of-line to want to know what those expectations are.” She straightened the black satin bow. Dropping her hands to his shoulders, she drew a deep breath. “I was wrong to leave you before, without giving us a chance to work things out. And I’m sorry for that,” she told him on a trembling sigh.
The Maverick Marriage Page 19