Double Wedding Ring

by Peg Sutherland

  Betsy sat in an empty chair across from Tag. “The two of you might just as well go back to Sweetbranch. The girls and I can manage fine from here.”

  Tag decided that any answer he gave would end up sounding antagonistic. He wasn’t in the mood for Betsy. He wasn’t in a mood to tolerate much of anything, truth be told. What in blue blazes had happened last night? he kept asking himself. How had things gone so quickly from feeling right to feeling uncertain?

  “What exactly do you hope to accomplish with my daughter, Eugene?”

  For spite, Tag wanted to snarl that he was going to marry her daughter. But the words stuck in his throat, jammed up by his memory of the awkwardness that had surfaced once that engagement ring lay in the palm of Susan’s hand.

  “That’s between Susan and me, Betsy.” He told himself to keep calm, but he doubted he’d been able to keep the resentment out of his voice.

  “You do realize, of course, that Susan is not quite...right. And she may never be.”

  “She has a lot to relearn,” he said. “And she’s doing fine. No thanks to you.”

  Betsy set her coffee cup down on a plastic table littered with six-month-old magazines. “You’re living in a dream world, Eugene. And I’ll thank you not to hurt my daughter through your own selfishness.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “As bad-tempered as your father, I see,” she said, smug satisfaction written all over her face.

  Tag wanted to deny that he was anything like his old man, but those words stayed balled up in his chest, too.

  “Eugene, let me ask you one thing. What kind of life do you plan for yourself?”

  “Your interest is touching, Betsy.”

  “Does that mean you have no plans? Or do you plan for more of the same?”

  “I have the store now.”

  “Mmm-hmm. And I suppose you plan to settle down in Sweetbranch?”

  Tag wasn’t sure which made him feel more like squirming, Betsy’s interrogation or the idea of settling down in Sweetbranch. As often as he’d longed for a family, for normalcy, he’d never quite imagined finding it in Sweetbranch.

  “I wonder how long that would make you happy, Eugene. How long it would be before you wanted to get back into that tacky little trailer of yours and go off on some more little adventures.”

  “Listen, Betsy—”

  “No, you listen, young man. I know the way you’ve lived. I know what it did to your mother, too. Her only living son tramping around the country like some no-account, never doing a useful day’s work in his life. Why, if it weren’t for my granddaughter, you would have run that store into the ground by now.”

  True, true, all of it true. Tag had no defense.

  “Can you honestly tell me you want to spend the rest of your life living in a backwater town like Sweetbranch, renting out backhoes, selling fertilizer and taking care of a crippled woman?”

  The images bore down on Tag relentlessly. He told himself the picture she painted wasn’t accurate, but Betsy’s vision of the future—and her assessment of him—filled his mind, nonetheless.

  “How soon before you start hankering after a little excitement, Eugene? Before you get tired of the burdens on your shoulders? How long before you run out on my daughter?”

  “It won’t be like that,” he said, but he knew his protest was weak.

  When he looked up and saw Susan sitting in the doorway of the waiting room, he knew she could see the uncertainty on his face, had no doubt heard his hesitation in the face of Betsy’s questions.

  He wanted to hate Betsy for the hurt he saw in Susan’s face. But he knew that this time Betsy didn’t bear the blame. This time, he had caused the pain.

  * * *

  AS CODY SLEPT STRAPPED into his carrier on the van’s back seat and Malorie sat huddled against the passenger door, Sam wondered how he could convince Malorie the three of them belonged together. He only knew he had to try. That’s why he had insisted on driving them home from the hospital, although Malorie had seemed reluctant to be alone with him.

  He decided to plunge right in. “I love you, Malorie.”

  His heart began to pound faster as he realized she had no intention of replying.

  “No matter what,” he added.

  “I was nineteen,” she said. “I thought I was pretty grown-up, but I guess I wasn’t.”

  “Mal, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do,” she said with a determination he knew better than to question. “It was just dumb, that’s all. I’d gone away for college. My first time away from home. And I wanted to be so sophisticated and so mature. So when one of the graduate assistant instructors started paying attention to me, I knew exactly why—because I was so sophisticated and so mature.”

  Sam wanted to pull over to the side of the road, wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. He wanted not to hear this story, but he knew she needed to tell it. And that need far outweighed his need to pretend it hadn’t happened.

  “He was furious when he found out I wasn’t doing anything about birth control.” She laughed softly. “But not nearly as furious as I was when I found out he was engaged to some law student in Boston.

  “Anyway, I found out I wasn’t sophisticated and I certainly wasn’t mature. I was just plain scared. And when Grandmother suggested that Mother and Daddy take my baby... Well, it made sense at the time. Better for the baby, everybody said. Better for me.”

  “But it wasn’t better for you?”

  Again, she was silent. Then, “I’ve made a mess of everything.”

  “Every life is difficult,” he said softly. “We all screw stuff up. I like to think we aren’t measured by how many things we manage to get right, but by how we handle our problems.”

  “If that’s the measure,” she said, “I come up pretty short.”

  “You were young.”

  “That’s a cop-out.”

  “So maybe it’s time to be measured again.” From the corner of his eye, he could see that she had turned to look at him. “I love you, Malorie. No matter what,” he repeated.

  “But you’re so...admirable,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. “You wanted to wait. And here I’m...”

  “Not perfect?”

  “Far from it.”

  “Good. Look what being perfect has done to your grandmother.”

  She groaned in response, but paused to think it over. “But how could you ever forgive me?”

  “It isn’t my place to forgive you. You did the best you could. The only person you need forgiveness from is yourself.”

  He glanced at her in time to see her skeptical look. She looked into the back seat and said, “And from Cody.”

  * * *

  SAM CARRIED CODY up the stairs when they reached the house. By the time they got him ready for bed, the little boy was awake. Mustering her courage, Malorie asked Sam to leave them alone for a few minutes. He nodded and closed the door behind him. But she didn’t hear his footsteps on the stairs and knew he was waiting for her.

  She almost wished he would leave.

  “Arm hurts,” Cody said, snuggling his stuffed bear against his cheek as Malorie tucked the covers around him.

  “Want me to kiss it and make it well?”

  He nodded and offered her the arm that was bruised from the IV needle and scraped from his fall. She kissed it thoroughly.

  “Cody, you’re a pretty big boy now, and I have a very important question for you.” Her mouth was dry and she wasn’t sure she could continue. “I want to be your mommy from now on. Would that be all right with you?”

  He frowned. “Aweady have a mommy.”

  “She’ll be your grandmommy. And that means you’ll have something you never had before. A great-grandmommy.”

  “Who’ll be my sissy?”

  “Someday, we’ll get you a new sister. Or even a brother.” Surely, she told herself, it would happen sometime. Surely, now, thanks to Sam and a strange quirk o
f fate, she could get on with her life. “How would you like that?”

  Cody seemed to consider the possibilities, then his eyes began to drift shut. “And a new kitty, too? For Butch to play with? Jake has a kitty.”

  Malorie chuckled. “We’ll see.”

  “Okay, Mommy,” he murmured, and then he was asleep.

  Telling herself the worst was over, Malorie watched her son sleep for a few more minutes. She knew the adjustment might take some time; she knew there might be repercussions from Betsy. But at least she had started down the right path. And if Sam was right, she might measure up a little better once she reached the end of this particular branch in the road.

  Sam. She still had to face him, tell him what she’d done.

  She waited for a moment, hoping her heartbeat would slow. But it didn’t. Maybe the worst wasn’t over, after all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SAM LEANED AGAINST the wall, wondering what was happening now. He wanted answers, but he didn’t know what questions to ask.

  From behind Cody’s bedroom door, he heard the soft murmur of voices. He wanted to be in that room with Malorie, that was the only thing he knew for certain. He loved her—maybe even more so now that he understood what she had been through.

  But did she love him enough to accept his support?

  When the bedroom door opened, he stood upright and faced her. She looked into his eyes, and he saw that all her fear was gone. In its place was a new determination, and a certain serenity that lifted his own heart.

  “Marry me,” he said.

  “Don’t. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  She raised her chin in that defiant way she had learned from her mother and looked him squarely in the eyes. He knew that, whatever she said, it couldn’t possibly make a difference.

  “I’ve decided to raise him myself. I already asked him if I could be his new mommy.”

  Joy wasn’t something Sam had much experience with; but if he’d had to put a name to what he felt fluttering to life within him, that’s the word he would have chosen. What a joy to see the woman he loved growing in courage and strength. “Will this confuse him?”

  “He’s young. We’ll go slow.” She sounded so calm, so sure, that Sam didn’t have a moment of doubt she was doing the right thing. “All I know is, what we’ve been doing will never work. Someday he would’ve learned the truth. And by then it might’ve been too late to make things right.”

  He could have kissed her for her wisdom. “How will Susan feel about it?”

  “She understands. I think she agrees it’s the right thing to do.”

  “So do I.”

  She smiled softly. “Do you?”

  “Absolutely.” Now, he thought. If I sound as rational as she sounds, maybe this won’t strike her as crazy. “Do you think it would be too much all at once if Cody suddenly had a new father, too?”

  Malorie shook her head. “No, Sam. That’s not necessary. And it’s not the right reason. I’ll be okay, you know.”

  He took her hands in his. “There’s only one reason I want to marry you. I love you. I want you to be my wife.”

  “But now—”

  “Now I’ll be doubly blessed. I’ll have a wife and a son.”

  She hesitated, searched his face. He saw the moment when her decision came, saw the impish gleam that suddenly came into her blue-gray eyes. “He wants a kitten, too. For his puppy to play with.”

  Sam laughed. “Whatever he wants.” He pulled her into his arms. She felt soft and giving in a way she never had before, when there were secrets between them. “Whatever you want.”

  “You wouldn’t feel...cheated?”

  “No, Malorie, I won’t feel cheated. But I don’t feel especially patient, either. How would you feel about a Christmas wedding?”

  * * *

  THE ANNOUNCEMENT of the wedding was the only bright spot in Susan’s day. And she was grateful when Malorie and Sam left, hand-in-hand and chattering enthusiastically, to talk to the minister about a Christmas wedding. Their departure made it easier for Susan to sneak off into her room. She wanted to be alone.

  She should have known better.

  Tag came in without knocking. Susan’s chair faced the side porch, and she pretended to watch the rain trickling down the screen.

  “I’m tired.” She didn’t turn around. “You should go home.”

  He put something on her bed. Her bag, she supposed. Her bag with the engagement ring tucked inside.

  “We should offer Sam the ring,” she said. “That would be a nice touch, don’t you think? Sort of a family heirloom.”

  He came and knelt beside her. She tried not to register his presence.

  “Don’t do this, Susan.”

  “It’s best.”

  “How can it be best?”

  His voice commanded her attention, and she looked at him. Twenty-five years of emptiness and betrayal and broken dreams shone in his eyes, and she looked away quickly.

  “Susan, when I was talking to Betsy, I—”

  “I heard it. She’s right.”

  “No, she’s not. I—”

  “She is. Who are we fooling?”

  “Didn’t we just have a wonderful day in the mountains together? Didn’t we?”

  “I’m tired.” She rubbed her forehead, felt the scar beneath her fingertips. Whenever it started to hurt there, she knew she would soon be reacting irrationally, behaving childishly. She didn’t want Tag to see her that way. Not now. Not ever.

  “Go away, Tag. Go away and leave me alone.”

  * * *

  SUSAN LOST HERSELF in frenetic wedding plans over the week and a half that remained before Christmas. She hadn’t the heart for much physical therapy, and completely avoided work on her reading and writing. It reminded her too much of Tag.

  “Mother, you can’t put everything on hold,” Malorie said one day after a discussion of using the traditional wedding vows versus writing her own. She had come home at lunchtime to discover that Susan and Addy Mayfield had spent the time they normally spent quilting planning a reception menu. “Your progress is a lot more important than this wedding.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Susan said briskly. “There’ll be plenty of time to worry about reading and writing after your wedding. But my only daughter just gets married once.”

  Malorie dropped to her knees beside her mother’s chair. “Oh, Mother, sometimes I get scared. It’s all worked out too perfectly.”

  Susan brushed her daughter’s cheek with the back of her hand. Soft, almost as soft as Cody’s cheek. “Sometimes life treats us that way. Makes up for all the times it shoves us around, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “First love is a treasure,” Susan said. “Always remember that.”

  Despite the misery dwelling in the center of her being, she did find happiness in watching Malorie blossom. She also found a certain peace in having recovered the treasured memory of her own first love. Over and over, she allowed herself to revisit those memories and tried to accept the fact that was all she would ever have.

  But it’s enough, she told herself. She almost believed it.

  Susan also watched with satisfaction as Malorie stepped into the role of Cody’s mother. Although she hated admitting it, even to herself, at least part of her satisfaction came from Betsy’s grim-lipped disapproval of this change in their lives.

  “Guess what, Mommy!” Cody had flung himself into Susan’s lap the morning after he came home from the hospital, once again apple-cheeked, despite the ugly scrapes on his face, arm and leg. “You’re my gramma now! I love you, Gramma!”

  She hugged him back and, for the first time since her accident, felt the fullness of her love for this little boy. “That’s wonderful, Cody!”

  “And I have a new mommy and soon I can have a new sister and a new brother and a new kitty like Jake and—” he paused for dramatic effect “—best of all, a new daddy!”

  Susan gave him an
other hug before he toddled off to be lifted into his high chair. Betsy plopped him into place without a word. But later she leaned over Susan and hissed, “What kind of insanity has taken hold of you and that daughter of yours?”

  “Malorie has decided to—”

  “Malorie. How very unlikely. More likely Eugene has talked you into abandoning the boy because he’d be a hindrance.”

  “Mother, I won’t discuss Tag with you. And I suggest you get used to the idea that Malorie and I are no longer going to live our lives under your thumb. We’re both grown now. It just took me a little longer than it took my daughter.”

  Susan calmed her seething temper by reminding herself that she, at least, would count the blessings in being a mother and grandmother. Anyone lucky enough to be in her place, she told herself, shouldn’t spend her time pining for the loss of her childhood sweetheart. And that’s all Tag Hutchins was. A part of her lost youth.

  * * *

  RUMMAGING THROUGH the toolbox on the ground, Tag sensed a presence and peered over the seat of his motorcycle. He gasped. Sixteen-year-old Susan, dressed in a flowing skirt and a tie-dyed peasant blouse, walked toward him.

  “Hi, Mr. Hutchins.”

  Tag braced his bad knee and stood. “Afternoon, Mal.”

  She looked shy, but not as uncertain of herself as she had six weeks ago when she first walked into his store. She’d taken on a certain mature dignity since claiming her son. That made her look even more like Susan, he realized, because his young Susan had never been plagued with uncertainty.

  Damn it all, he thought. Forget her.

  Oh, yeah, his ill-temper snapped back. And while you’re at it, why don’t you stop breathing for the next few hours. That’d be a helluva lot easier.

  Malorie stared at the ground, where he’d scattered his bike-maintenance tools. “I wondered why you hadn’t come into the store today. Getting ready for a race?”

  Tag wasn’t sure what he was getting ready for. He only knew that it had seemed like the right time to get his bike tuned up again. Maybe even time to check on his trailer, which he’d left in the two-bit town where Sam found him after his mother’s stroke. The road kept calling; the familiar pull was the only thing that counteracted the powerful lure of the woman in the house across the street.