The secure pressure of his hand filled her with contentment. “Okay.”
“And,” he added with a conniving wink, “we have several good, professional dance companies in the nearby cities.”
“Bribery will get you everywhere!” Sloan laughed happily. Wes was magic. He could work everything out.
Their sandwiches arrived, and Sloan found she had a good appetite for her ham and cheese. She was going to miss Wes terribly, but as he had said, his absence would be for the best. When he came back, there would be less than twenty-four hours left for anything to go wrong!
They discussed a few more details as they ate. The wedding would take place at Wesley’s house with just their families and a few close friends in attendance. Sloan was to cater whatever she wanted, as long as she didn’t put a strain on herself. After a quick reception, they would fly overseas right away.
“Oh! One more thing,” Wesley added, his green eyes twinkling like gemstones as he reached into his vest pocket for a small jewel case. Flicking it open with one hand, he gently took her slim fingers with the other and slid the ring from the velvet box. “I’d like you to start wearing this,” he said, extracting first the plain gold band which had adorned her finger since the day Terry had put it on. Then his ring went on, and Sloan stared at her finger with a mixture of nostalgia and joy. Terry’s ring was gone. But Terry was gone, and somehow it didn’t hurt so badly anymore. Oh, his memory would always sadden her; he had been her youth, her first great love, the father of her three children. But nothing could bring him back. She would always remember him with love, but...her eyes widened with shock. Water filled within them, but she was laughing too, with pure happiness. The loss of her love didn’t hurt so much anymore because she had found new love without even knowing as it snuck up on her. She wanted to scream and shout with the joy of her realization, but Lord! Wes would never understand. Instead, she clutched his large hand in hers and covered it with tearstained, sloppy kisses. “Oh, Wes!” she murmured breathlessly, mindless if the other patrons of the coffee shop thought her crazy or not, “I do love you so!”
“And I love you, my dearest princess,” he whispered in return, taking her hands tenderly to his mouth to kiss them reverently. Then the teasing glimmer leaped back into his eyes as he studied the ring objectively. “Perfect, if I do say so myself.” It was a diamond, probably about two carats, Sloan judged, surrounded by a bed of sapphires. He traced the circle of blue stones with his fingers. “For your eyes, love. They match incredibly well.” He released her hand reluctantly. “You’d better get into work so that you can quit, and I’d better head out of town. Or else, darling,” he said huskily, one sensual dark brow raised in a rakish angle, “I shall carry you from this table and savagely ravish you in the back seat of the Lincoln.”
Sloan half smiled with a rueful quirk of her lips and angled a furrowing brow herself. “I don’t think I’d mind being ravished in the Lincoln,” she murmured in teasing reply, fully aware that she now meant her words with no qualms. Love may not conquer all, but it did sweep away her doubts and insecurities. “But I’ve got a problem, Wes. I can’t just quit my job. I’m a teacher. Jim can cover me for a couple of weeks, but I have to go back, at least until the quarter ends, which will be the end of summer. I have finals to give,” she apologized lamely, hoping he would understand her commitment.
“Sloan,” Wes reassured her quickly, sensing her distress, “the end of summer will be fine. I can set up an office in your house somewhere and catch up on paperwork. And phone calls. And I can fly in and out for emergencies. Just make sure they know you won’t be back for the fall term.”
Sloan smiled, astounded that he would so willingly arrange his life-style around hers. “Thank you, Wes,” she said softly. “I promise I won’t always be this difficult.”
He laughed. “I promise I won’t always let you be this difficult! Oh—one more thing,” he added quickly. “How could I forget. It’s about the most important thing!” He handed her a business card. “My attorney,” he explained. “I’ve drawn up adoption papers for the children. I don’t want to try to take Terry’s place with them, but they can take back his name as adults if they choose. It will be to their benefit to be my legal heirs, insurance and all that. If you have any objection, I’ll understand, but I knew we didn’t have much time, so I set the wheels turning last night. Hopefully we can get a judgment by Friday.” He grinned a little dryly. “Sometimes it helps to be well known.”
Sloan suddenly felt as if she were shattering, breaking apart bit by bit. She had been so strong for so long, and now it was all being lifted from her shoulders. She was off-balance with the weight of burden gone, stunned by the depths of caring Wes showed her with his every thought. Tears glazed her eyes; she didn’t deserve this wonder that she had schemed and deceived to bring about, but it was hers now, and she would cling tenaciously to it.
“Sloan,” Wes began, his brow tight and features tense as he misread her silence. “If you prefer that I don’t adopt the kids—”
“Oh, no!” Sloan protested hastily, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she fought to weld the pieces of her self-control back together. “I think it’s wonderful that you thought of such a thing,” she said hastily. “I’ll see the lawyer today for sure.” She summoned up a sturdy smile. “And I’ll get Florence on to the moving, and get George on to selling your house. And”—her voice fell deep and husky—“I’ll have everything set for the wedding, and I’ll be missing you like crazy until Friday night!”
Their eyes met across the table, Sloan’s for once covered by no shields to hide deceit. They were star-glazed and incredulous...She had never known simple feeling and happiness could be so damned good.
A moment later she was kissing him good-bye, clinging to his powerful frame with the real pain of parting. “It will only be a few days, sweetheart,” Wes mumbled gently, his face buried in the silkiness of her hair. “Just a few days...”
Then he was gone, and Sloan was drifting on a high plateau of clouds. “Just a few days,” she repeated to herself, and then she would have her newfound love forever, sanctioned by the laws of God and State. She didn’t think it possible to be any happier.
Jim accepted her news with calm and pleasant resignation. “I admit,” he said with a grin, “I didn’t expect this all to come about so quickly, but”—he gave her a broad grin—“I wasn’t really planning on having you for the fall quarter. You know,” he mused, “I might not be here myself.”
“Really?” Sloan queried, surprised. “Why not?”
“If I can swing the financing, I’m going to open a school and perhaps form a professional company.”
“That’s marvelous!” Sloan applauded him. “Maybe you’ll let me ‘guest’ teach when I’m in Gettysburg!”
“There will always be a place open for you, Sloan,” he assured her. “Anyway, at this time, it’s only talk...So when is the wedding? Saturday, you say? Do I get to be there?”
“Of course.” Sloan grinned. “Family and adoptive family. You fit the latter category!”
The children—Jamie being the only one with a coherent memory of his real father—thought the idea of their mother marrying Wes and providing them with a new father was wonderful. They were thrilled that both Florence and Wes would be living with them, enthusiastic about moving to Kentucky where they could keep a pony.
The only person who accepted Sloan’s news dubiously was—oddly enough—Cassie. Sloan wasn’t sure exactly what went on in her sister’s mind; Cassie didn’t say much, but that was why Sloan was bothered. Cassie should have been as ecstatic as she—after all, Cassie had practically thrown them together.
Despite her unusual quiet and reserve, Cassie spent the days helping Sloan. She promised to handle all the catering arrangements for the wedding and also handle the details like cleaning, flowers, liquor, etc. George was happy to handle the sale of Wes’s house; Wesley’s attorney was a pleasant sort who seemed to take everyth
ing in stride, as if instant adoptions were a daily thing. He wished her the best of luck, smiling sheepishly as he told her he could well understand his client’s rush.
With all that going on, Sloan didn’t worry overmuch about her sister. She was determined to take all of her classes each day, since she would be putting such a burden on Jim when she was gone. Along with working, she was busy helping Florence move in and packing the few personal items Wes had in his house. They wouldn’t be back in it once the wedding had taken place.
On Thursday morning Cassie called her at work. “I think you’ve forgotten something,” she advised.
“What?” Sloan asked, frowning into the wire. She’d kept checklists on everything she was doing, and as far as she could tell, things were going fine.
“Shopping. If I’m not mistaken, your wardrobe isn’t going to make a European trip.”
“Oooooh.” Sloan had been standing and she sat. Cassie was right; her wardrobe was practically nonexistent—she had been carefully pulling together her few decent outfits each time she saw Wes.
“I’ll pick you up at work,” Cassie said. “George can bring the kids to Florence for you, and you and I can have dinner and do a little spending.”
Sloan thought for a moment. She had her paycheck in her purse, and now there wasn’t any reason why she shouldn’t spend it. By habit she hadn’t cashed it, mentally balancing mortgage payments and bills. And now, suddenly, what was a huge sum to her was pennies to Wes. She chuckled softly. She could easily spend the entire sum, and Wes would still think her thrifty.
“Thanks, Cass,” Sloan said. “Sounds like a good idea.”
It wasn’t until she set the receiver down that she realized Cassie had sounded funny. She wasn’t really interested in shopping—she was interested in having dinner together and...talking?
Maybe she had been wrong, Sloan thought later as she and Cassie both decided on spinach salad at a local restaurant. Cassie was remaining as reserved as she had been about the whole thing. Several times as they chatted she was sure Cassie was going to say something about the problem bothering her, but she didn’t. Still, it was odd. They talked about everything but the wedding.
Cassie livened up when Sloan went on her spending spree, giving harsh sibling advice on colors and styles. “This is fun,” Cassie commented after helping Sloan put together several outfits that matched from the panties on out. “Buying anything you want...” Her voice trailed away. “Negligees!” she interrupted herself with a giggle. “I don’t guess you get to wear them long, but that boutique across the street has some stunning pieces!”
Sloan followed her sister with her pile of boxes, frowning. She was ready to stop in the street and demand to know what was wrong, but Cassie was well ahead of her, and then they were surrounded by salespeople. By the time Cassie had made her try on a dozen garments, she was tired, and her sister’s peculiar behavior had drifted to the back of her mind. She didn’t think of it again until Cassie was dropping her at her car. “Sloan,” Cassie began, stopping her as she walked the few feet in the school’s parking lot.
Sloan turned back to her, balancing her stack of packages. “Yes.”
“Oh...never mind.” Cassie waved with a weak smile and drove away.
“What is with her?” Sloan mumbled to herself, shrugging as she fumbled to open the car door. When Cassie was ready to say something, Sloan figured, she would. Until then there wasn’t much she could do.
At home she displayed everything for Florence’s oohs and aahs and sternly told herself to go to bed. Once there, however, she was too nervous and excited to sleep. One more day and Wes would be back, then a single night before the wedding...
She was still nervous when she awoke after her restless night. Knowing that he was coming made her want to see him desperately. Consequently, the day dragged. Classes which usually sped by for her seemed to be interminable. At three o’clock Jim caught her in her office and insisted she go home.
“I can’t,” Sloan wailed, “I have an intermediate ballet—”
“Which I can handle,” he assured her.
“That’s not fair to you, Jim,” she objected softly.
“Ah, but the world isn’t fair!” Jim chuckled. “Go home. You’re driving me insane, and the students may never be the same again. They’re limping around as if they’ve been working out for the Olympics! They aren’t all floating on clouds of ecstasy, you know.”
Sloan blushed. “I guess I did drive them pretty hard,” Sloan murmured.
“That’s okay.” Jim chuckled. “It’s good for them. But do us all a favor and go home! What time is Wes coming in?”
“I don’t know,” Sloan replied with a sigh. “But since you’re being so magnanimous, I guess I will go home. Thanks, Jim.”
“Thank you,” he told her seriously. “I’m glad you’re coming back to finish the quarter.”
Sloan shrugged. “I like teaching,” she murmured. “I like the students, and, well, I certainly owe you that much!”
“You owe yourself, Sloan, and you owe Wes,” Jim advised softly. “Remember that. Now—” He stared at her sternly. “Get out!”
“Okay, okay!” Sloan laughed. “I’ll get everything going smoothly!”
Her shower went smoothly; that was all that did. She burned dinner, knocked her iced tea all over the table, and put Terry’s sleeper on inside out. After she stubbed her toe viciously while pacing the living room, Florence finally spoke up in the stern voice she used occasionally on the children.
“Settle down, young lady,” she commanded. “You’re wearing yourself to a frazzle. You’ll be a pathetic-looking bride in the morning if you keep this up! Wesley will get here, but you can’t make him get here any faster by chewing off your manicure.”
Wincing while she held her toe, Sloan had to agree. “I think I’ll fix myself a scotch and see what’s on TV.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll even join you!”
Florence kept up a stream of chatter as they sat over scotches, tactfully keeping Sloan’s mind busy. They slowly went over all of the arrangements together and arrived at the conclusion that nothing had been forgotten. Then, as the eleven o’clock news came on, Sloan caught her new housekeeper-friend yawning and winced. She had been so embroiled with her own thoughts that she had given no consideration to Florence!
“Okay, young lady,” Sloan said gruffly, imitating Florence’s own tone. “Up to bed with you! You’ve been a doll! An absolute doll. But I’m fine now, I really am, and I can wait by myself.”
Florence was uncertain. “Are you sure?”
“Believe me.” Sloan laughed. “I’m calm! Three stiff scotches and I’m not just calm—I’m almost out on my feet!”
“All right, then.” Florence stifled another yawn and sheepishly admitted she was half-asleep already.
“See you in the morning,” she said, kissing Sloan’s cheek affectionately. “Give Wes my love and a piece of my mind when he gets in! Although I don’t think you’ll get much chance to yell at him”—the housekeeper chuckled—“he’ll probably just say hi and bye until tomorrow. It is getting dreadfully late, and it will be a full day.”
Sloan grinned in return. “I’m not sure yet if I’m going to yell, hit him, or keep my mouth shut and kiss him in relief! Oh!” she asked, concerned for the graying lady who had cheerfully made her own life so much more pleasant with her courtesy, “Shall I turn off the TV? Will the noise disturb you?”
“Don’t be silly,” Florence protested, shaking her head. “In fact, you could blast it, and the neighbors would know before I did. I’m a heavy sleeper—you’ve heard my alarm clock. It’s worse than a power drill because that’s about all that will wake me up.” She yawned again. “And all that scotch! My dear, I will probably pass out rather than fall asleep!”
Sloan chuckled. “Well, good. Then I won’t worry if I do decide I’m going to yell at Wes.”
“Yell away.” Florence yawned, moving toward the stairs with a mischievou
s twinkle in her eyes. “Straighten him out on these late hours of his before the wedding!”
It was a good thing, Sloan thought wryly as she watched Florence walk up to bed, that she and Florence had imbibed in the scotches. Her emotions were running the gauntlet—from eager anticipation to anxious worry to frustration and therefore to growing anger. She really might be ready to yell her head off by the time he came in.
What was taking so long? Wes had called on Wednesday night, and everything had been fine. The “farm,” as he called it, was running smoothly; his brother and sister-in-law were going to be able to make the wedding. The man had definitely said he’d be in on Friday night.
She was going to have a thing or two to tell him about phoning in the future if he was held up!
“Ummmph!” she said aloud to the clock with disgruntled anger. “He only has forty-five minutes of Friday night left!”
Sloan watched the clock for a few more minutes as she listened to the news drone on. With a sigh she despondently sauntered into her bedroom and changed into a slightly worn peignoir set. Her new ones were packed, but if she was going to wind up sleeping in a chair as she fitfully waited, she might as well be dressed comfortably.
Tiptoeing, she checked on the kids and then Florence. Chuckling softly as she reclosed the older woman’s door, Sloan had to agree that she slept like death; her soft snores were already deep and steady.
Downstairs, she curled into the sofa before the TV and, turning up the volume, convinced herself that she was going to pay attention to the old Boris Karloff movie coming onto the screen. It was something about a mummy, she realized, yawning with exhaustion herself. Then, somewhere along the line, she drifted into a doze. She awoke ecstatically to see car lights flashing across the walls through the drapes. The sound of tires on gravel assured her she hadn’t been dreaming, and she leaped to her feet to throw open the front door with eager relief and an excitement that quickly turned to stunned surprise.
Quiet Walks the Tiger Page 10