To Protect Her Son

by Stella MacLean

  “When two people care for each other, the rest is easy,” he said, standing straight and tall beside her, his eyes searching hers, the heat of his body drawing her to him.

  A flash of light outside the door caught Gayle’s attention. “Somebody’s out there,” she said.

  “I’ve never heard that excuse before,” he said, not turning to confirm what she was saying.

  “It’s not an excuse. Look.” She pointed to a woman silhouetted by a light shining behind her.

  Nate opened the door, and before he could speak the woman identified herself as a reporter from the local TV station in Portsmouth. “I understand that Harry Young’s ex-wife and son live here. I’d like to speak to...” She pushed past Nate and shoved a microphone in Gayle’s face. “Are you Gayle Sawyer?”

  Horrified, Gayle stared at the woman, then at Nate, pleading with him to make the woman go away.

  Nate gave a slight nod, and put his arm out, blocking the woman from coming farther into the house. “No comment.”

  “Just a few words,” the reporter insisted. She pushed the microphone at Gayle. “What was it like to live with Harry Young before he became a Christian? Was your relationship a loving one?”

  She’d been dreading a moment like this all her life. The press had invaded the one place she’d ever felt that she really belonged. Gayle’s body began to shake.

  Nate whispered close to her ear. “Go back into the kitchen. I’ll handle this.”

  As Gayle turned away, the reporter’s hostility was aimed at Nate. But Nate didn’t budge, and in a few minutes the woman and her cameraman left. Nate locked the door, and returned to the kitchen where Gayle waited at the counter.

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said, looking up at him, feeling his support like a cloak, warm and protective.

  But if this reporter persisted, and others followed, how would Nate feel about being caught in the spotlight with her? She’d seen the news on various occasions when reporters dogged someone until they gave an interview, and she didn’t want that to happen to her or Nate, and especially not to Adam.

  Again, she felt the urge to flee to avoid any further conflict. Oddly enough, in the middle of this craziness, she became frighteningly aware of how much she wanted a relationship with Nate. She’d hid behind her fears far too long. It was time she made her feelings clear to this man.

  But what if Harry’s reappearance in her life affected Nate’s feelings for her? The press were chasing Harry for his story, and that meant they’d learn about his life with Gayle in Anaheim. Shame made her cheeks glow hot at the memory of the squalid little apartment they’d lived in.

  “You don’t have to be sorry about anything, especially not that,” he said, nodding toward the front hall, placing his powerful hands on her shoulders and looking straight into her eyes.

  She loved Nate, a love she couldn’t share with him or anyone else. Her old insecurities wouldn’t let her. She needed him here with her tonight, to stave off the loneliness of facing the world on her own. “Will you change your mind and stay for dinner?” she asked, resisting the urge to put her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest. To feel the comfort he offered.

  His hands gently kneaded her shoulders as his mouth took hers in a kiss that made her knees weak and her breath halt in her throat. She clung to him, her mind reeling with the idea that this man she loved was kissing her, and taking her last bit of willpower from her.

  He eased away from her. His hands released her. His gray eyes shone darker than before as they ranged over her face. “I think we’d better call it a night. You and Adam need time to talk over your feelings, your day. I need to check in on Anna.”

  He was leaving her after what had just happened between them right here in her kitchen, after the incident at the door with the reporter—obviously not giving a thought to how she’d cope if another reporter showed up. Or how close she’d come to asking him to stay with her tonight. She went back over the evening, searching for what happened that made him decide to leave.

  Something had changed. What had she done? Sure, she was insecure about being in a relationship, but Sherri had told her that Nate was perfectly at ease with women, that he knew how to win over any woman he wanted.

  Any woman he wanted.

  Had she been living out her fantasy right here in her own kitchen? A one-person dream with the trappings of real life?

  She pulled back behind the shelter of the counter, resting her hips on the edge.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, shielding herself from the hurt gnawing at her stomach. She stood her ground against the memory of what might have been. “Yes. I think it is time for you to leave. But before you go, I want to thank you again for everything you’ve done for Adam and me.” She could feel the stiffness in her words, words meant to push him away. Words meant to hurt him, but it was she who felt the hurt.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Nate stood in front of the long gilded mirror in one of the elegant suites that made up the Kingston Inn, the most formal wedding venue in Eden Harbor. His cousin Sherri was marrying Neill Brandon today at two o’clock. Because of their rocky path as lovers and the long period of time they’d spent apart while married to other people, the whole town was anticipating today’s service. Everyone agreed that love had finally won out.

  Yet as much as he wanted every bit of happiness possible for his cousin and her fiancé, his heart wasn’t in today’s festivities. And it all had to do with the past two weeks. He hadn’t seen Gayle, and she hadn’t asked for his help. She’d canceled Adam’s appointment with the excuse that he needed to study. There had been no mention of any more incidents of the press bothering her, but he had heard that someone from the Bangor Courier had been going around town asking people what they knew about Gayle and Adam.

  The rehearsal dinner had been awkward with them having to sit next to each other. He’d tried to engage her in conversation, and she had been polite, but that was all. She never once made eye contact, and that hurt. Yet he felt the urge to touch her, to find a way to include her in an intimate moment between them. All efforts failed. By the end of the evening he was irritated by her behavior and couldn’t wait for the event to be over.

  Gayle didn’t need his support, and the way she had all but dismissed him from her house a couple of weeks ago had hurt him in a way he’d never experienced before. Having spent these past weeks without seeing her, he was acutely aware that he cared for her very much. She was so different from his usual girlfriends, and he’d tried to explain that to her the day Harry had shown up on her doorstep. He thought she’d understood what he’d been trying to say, but obviously she hadn’t.

  He fastened his tie and smoothed his hair, determined to make the most of the day ahead regardless of what happened between Gayle and him. And he was pleased that after the ceremony he would be walking down the aisle between the rows of chairs under a white tent with Gayle on his arm. His golden opportunity.

  He had never given up on anything or anybody he really wanted. He wasn’t about to start now. He had a plan, and he would see it through, prepared to accept the outcome whatever it was. Weeks ago, when he’d believed that he and Gayle were becoming close, he’d foolishly made a reservation here at the inn for tonight. He’d thought about canceling it, but decided not to.

  He’d seen the emotion in her eyes the last time he’d been with her. The anxiety. She cared for him. He cared for her. His plan would start with that.

  Opening the door to his room, he could hear laughter across the hall from him—a woman’s lighthearted laugh that made him feel unreasonably happy with life. As he descended the winding staircase to the main floor reception area, he put aside his thoughts and feelings, prepared to be part of the wedding everyone in Eden Harbor had been waiting for. To witness Sherri and Neill’s love and happiness gav
e him something to believe in.

  If this were just another wedding of a family member, he’d simply sit back and enjoy. But his role as groomsman meant he’d be walking down the aisle with Gayle and his cane. The bride had insisted, her matchmaking efforts still alive and well. He felt a ping of unease shoot through his chest and settle in his stomach.

  For a second he wished he could join the wedding guests and enjoy the admiring glances of the females in the wedding party while he decided which of them he would take out on a date in the coming weeks.

  What a smug, self-satisfied man he’d become. In the beginning he’d blamed the breakup of his relationship on his fiancée. She’d been the one who had called off their wedding. And he’d decided to let his hurt feelings dictate his approach to his dating life.

  Yet in this quiet moment, seeing his reflection in the full-length gold-edged mirror at the bottom of the stairs, he’d come to realize how empty and stuck in a holding pattern his life had become. He had been treating women like objects placed in his path, not real people who might have a chance of making him happy.

  He grimaced at his reflection.

  Gayle made him happy, and she was sexier than any woman he’d dated in a long time. He’d had two weeks to think about how their last evening had ended. He’d wanted to make love to her. Yet that night hadn’t been about having sex, but about something else.

  That was the part that had him confused.

  He’d wanted to talk to her about the two of them, about going out on dates, learning more about each other. He’d wanted to plan a future for them, yet he hadn’t been able to convey that idea to Gayle. When he couldn’t find the words, he’d kissed her and dropped her as if she were some undesirable object.

  His shortcoming with women had always been his need to keep an emotional distance. Sure, the sex was mutually satisfying, but what did he offer by way of emotional support to the women he slept with? When it came time to really share in an intimate, caring way, he chose to keep everything light. No room for commitment.

  As he moved into one of the main reception rooms, he could see the guests gathering on the lawn, ready to enter the tent.

  “Are you lost?” Anna asked as she came up to him and kissed his cheek.

  He chuckled, hugging his sister. “I look that bad?”

  “No, of course not. You look absolutely handsome.”

  “Where are the boys?”

  “They’re with Mom. I’m going to find them in a few minutes and take our seats. See you later, and good luck doing the groomsman thing,” she said, making her way to the steps to the lawn.

  He glanced around for other members of the wedding party, knowing full well the only one he was looking for was Gayle.

  The minister walked up to him. “That was a lovely rehearsal dinner last evening, wasn’t it?” he said. They made small talk for a few minutes about the weather, the day ahead and the subject on everybody’s mind—how the bride and groom had found their way back to each other.

  Nate was giving his full attention to the minister when out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone standing quietly, looking out over the front entrance onto the veranda. She was dressed in a spectacular green sheath that followed every curve of her body until it fanned out just before touching down on the floor. She was talking quietly to Morgan Brandon, whose conversation was accompanied by a lot of arm movements and wide smiles. Morgan’s dress was pretty, but it was Gayle he couldn’t take his eyes off. With her mass of dark curls swept up off her face and fastened back with silver combs, she was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his entire life.

  The minister stopped speaking. Nate didn’t respond. He’d lost track of the conversation, completely focused on Gayle. “Would you excuse me?”

  “Certainly,” said the minister. “I have to get ready for the service. Only a few minutes to go.”

  Nate strode across the foyer of the inn, stopping only when he reached Gayle’s side. A thousand words rushed through his mind, but only four managed to pass his lips. “You look so beautiful.”

  Her smile was shaky as she looked up into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  He couldn’t stop his hands from touching her arm. “We’re on in just a few minutes.”

  “Hope I remember what I’m supposed to do,” Gayle said, sounding genuinely anxious.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Morgan interjected. “I’ve got you covered. If you forget anything, like to take Sherri’s bouquet, I’ll give you a nudge.” She turned to Nate. “Hi, Uncle Nate. You are my uncle now, right?”

  “Being your uncle would be a great honor,” he said, but his eyes never left Gayle’s face.

  “That’s good. I’m busy collecting new relatives.” She clapped her hands together and laughed.

  “Collect to your heart’s content,” he said, following Gayle’s gaze as Adam ambled toward the group in a typical teenage gait. “Here’s Adam,” he said, suddenly aware that Morgan’s face had gone a shade of pink and Adam was nervously adjusting his tie.

  These two really like each other.

  The two teenagers moved away from Nate and Gayle as if they didn’t exist. “Well, what do you suppose is going on there?” Gayle asked.

  “Is it still called ‘puppy love’?” Nate asked.

  “I thought it would be years before I used in love and Adam in the same sentence. He’s too young to date, isn’t he?”

  “I’m not an authority on the subject of teenagers in love.” After two of the most frustrating, unhappy weeks of his life, Nate decided that it was time to put an end to this impasse between them. “Love can be tricky. Just when you least expect it, you’re suddenly caught in its glow,” he said, aware of the catch in his voice. Damn! He sounded like some sort of advertisement for one of those online dating sites.

  She looked up into his face, her heart pounding in the V of her throat. He had never wanted to touch any woman the way he did Gayle, to caress her throat, feel her pulse fluttering under his fingers.

  “I’m not sure I believe in love. The rush of feelings we call love, possibly, but not the kind of love that means a lifetime commitment.” Her voice was warm and gentle, her eyes trapping his.

  “I do,” he blurted.

  “You do?” Her lips lifted in a soft smile. “So this is the new Nate Garrison?”

  Before he could respond, she turned from him and started back toward the stairs. “Aren’t we supposed to be waiting here?” he asked, desperate to keep her with him for as long as possible.

  “I have to check on the bride,” she said, hurrying up the staircase.

  He watched helplessly, his body tightening at the sight of her straight back, the deep V opening the dress almost to her waist, the sexy sway of her hips under the luscious green fabric. There was a new addition to his plan. If he managed to get his act together, he’d take great enjoyment out of removing that dress. Yes, he would...

  * * *

  CONFINED BY HER tight skirt, Gayle made her way up the curving stairs. Once out of sight, she stopped to catch her breath. She couldn’t talk to Nate about love, or about anything. She’d spent the past two weeks in an agony of wishing and hoping that he would call, or that she’d bump into him somewhere.

  During the rehearsal and the dinner, she’d experienced a different form of agony—the agony of being so close to the man she loved, yet so far out of the orbit he lived in she might as well have been from outer space.

  She had watched the way his whole family had come together last evening, and how Sherri and he joked with everyone. No one could miss the fact that people loved Neill and Sherri and wanted them to be happy. The pain of feeling like an outsider had made her unable to make conversation at the dinner, and Nate’s attempts to draw her had out only made her feel worse.

  Nate had been kind and thoughtful,
like a friend would be. But being around him brought all her lonely feelings rushing to the surface, heightening her feelings of isolation.

  She had always protected herself from feeling left out around others by not becoming too deeply involved in their lives. Last night at the rehearsal dinner her isolation felt complete. She would never have what the Garrison and the Brandon families had—a sense of feeling part of something solid and real.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Sherri appeared. Her dress was the same pattern as Gayle’s, but it was covered in lace and pearls over shimmering satin, with a headdress of pearls holding a train that flowed to the floor.

  “Doesn’t she look wonderful?” Colleen Lawson asked as she followed her daughter out of the room.

  “Absolutely gorgeous,” Gayle said, meaning it with all her heart. She went the rest of the way up the stairs and took her best friend’s hand. “I am so happy for you, and so pleased to be your maid of honor.”

  Sherri’s eyes glistened with tears. “Me, too.” She tilted her head back to keep the moisture from touching her makeup. “Mom, can you pick up my train while Gayle walks with me down the stairs? I didn’t realize how tricky it is to walk in a dress like this.”

  They went down the stairs together and waited in the archway leading to the dining room while the photographer followed them and took more pictures. Morgan was busy helping to arrange the train on the wedding dress while the hairdresser fussed over Sherri’s hair.

  Finally, they were ready. The florist passed the bridal bouquet to Sherri, and a white satin pillow with the rings nestled together on it to Morgan. “This is it,” Sherri said as Morgan moved ahead of them toward the steps leading down to the lawn and the white tent shining in the brilliant sunshine.