by Holly Jacobs
“Drooling. You said you wanted him drooling.”
“Maybe. But I decided I want love more, not just a marriage of convenience.”
“Convenient. Are you so sure that’s all this marriage is to Gabriel?” Blossom asked softly.
“For now.” She pulled the last of her grandmother’s linens from the box. They’d been packed in a closet at her apartment. Joy had never seen the need to unpack her grandmother’s treasures since she basically had used the apartment as merely a place to sleep. But now, she hoped that she could build a real home with Gabriel and Sophie, and unpacking the lace tablecloths and china seemed right.
“Do you really think Gabriel and I are destined for a happily-ever-after?”
Joy hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud. She didn’t even mean to think the question, since the fairies weren’t above mind reading. But it was the question that weighed most on her mind.
Blossom answered, “We’re your godmothers. Our job is to see to it. Getting you married was only half the battle. Getting you happy is the rest of it.”
“Tell me which box you need,” Gabriel called from the living room.
“The one marked china. Hang on, I’ll help you.” She’d had the movers put the cupboard in the dining room, but most of the boxes still lined one living room wall.
“I’ve got it,” Gabriel said. He was in the doorway, a large box in his arms.
“Let me help,” Joy said, trying to take one side of it.
“I said, I’ve got it,” Gabriel snapped and gave a little tug.
“Gabriel,” she said, still clinging to her side.
Joy was so caught up in arguing about which one of them would carry the box that she failed to remember Blossom was in the room.
And Blossom was their downfall.
Literally.
Gabriel, Joy and the box went tumbling over Blossom. The sound of breaking china reverberated in the quiet house.
“Oh, my,” Blossom said. “Honey, are you okay?”
“Joy, are you okay?” Gabriel asked. He stood and looked from Joy to the box.
“I’m fine.” Joy surveyed the damage. “I have a feeling I’m in better shape than the china,” she said to both Gabriel and the fairy godmother.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I know this was your grandmother’s and it’s all you have of her things.” Blossom patted Joy’s shoulder.
Fairy godmothers might be invisible, but they weren’t without substance.
Gabriel put his hand on her other shoulder. “Joy, I’m so sorry.”
“Never mind,” she said to both of them. She shrugged out of their grasp. “It was only some old dishes and cups. I’ll go through the box and see if anything’s salvageable.” She remembered the tea parties she’d had with her grandmother when she was little. She’d always been allowed to pour the tea from the big, hideously ugly teapot.
“Joy,” Gabriel said and then stopped, as if he didn’t quite know what to say.
“Would you mind carrying those boxes of books up to my room? The movers put the shelves up there, but they didn’t get all the boxes upstairs.”
She wanted to cry, and though she wouldn’t allow a full-fledged cry-fest, she needed at least a couple private sniffles as she searched the debris for survivors. Later, alone in her bedroom—her very lonely bedroom—she’d drain herself of tears.
“Okay,” Gabriel said.
Joy was too caught up in all the emotions of the day to notice he had agreed much too easily. She opened the box, another casualty of her klutziness.
“This time it was my fault.” Blossom’s voice sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. “I should have gotten out of the way.”
“No, it was me. Accidents and I are intimately acquainted. Look at my poor smooshed truck, or when I spilled the coffee on Gabriel, or—” She breathed out a sigh of relief when she removed the first few dishes, whole and complete. As she worked her way through the box, she found a teacup with a broken handle.
“You can super glue it,” Blossom offered.
Next came two salad plates that were shattered. No hope of salvage there. As she neared the middle she found the tea pot, an ugly monstrosity that represented so many happy memories, in pieces. Too many pieces for super glue to work its magic. Images of the past played before her eyes as she glanced at the shards.
Joy’s eyes filled with tears, despite all her good intentions. It was her wedding day, a day for champagne and roses and . . . She smothered a sob. There was no champagne, no roses and no and in her future. She was married to a man who thought she was comfortable, and her grandmother’s teapot was broken.
“Oh, Joy,” Blossom murmured, holding her, rocking her.
Joy’s sobs were muffled against Blossom’s shoulder, but as they gained momentum she held herself in check. She didn’t want Gabriel to hear her crying. It was bad enough Blossom knew.
She couldn’t bear the thought of Gabriel feeling sorry for her. Though things were far from perfect, she knew that was the one thing—the one thing out of all the trials she was trying to hold up under—that she couldn’t bear. It would be her undoing.
“Let me call the others.”
“What?” Myrtle, a shower cap on her head and wearing a big white robe, asked. She surveyed the scene and said, “Blossom, what did you do?”
“They tripped over me, and Joy’s grandmother’s china got broken. But I don’t think it’s the china she’s crying about.”
“Of course it isn’t.” Fern was wearing a hunter-green riding habit and snapped the whip against her boot. “This isn’t how a girl dreams about spending her honeymoon, with a man who sees her as a convenience rather than as the woman he loves.”
“You three set this up,” Joy reminded them, a small hiccup punctuating the sentence. “Why couldn’t you just find me someone who loved me?”
“We told you at the beginning that this was a troublesome case. Gabriel is the man for you. We’re hoping in time that he’ll learn to love you.” Myrtle’s soothing voice had the opposite affect on Joy.
“Hoping?” They were hoping? “I figured the three of you wouldn’t find me a man to love who was never going to love me in return.”
“We think he’ll love you soon,” Fern offered.
“Sparks,” Blossom said, jumping on her sparking bandwagon again. “Don’t forget the sparks. And comfortable isn’t so bad.”
“Bad?” Her heart suddenly felt more shattered than the teapot. “It’s worse. Why don’t the three of you just get out? I think you’ve made enough of a mess of things today.”
“Joy, we really think things will work out,” Myrtle offered.
“But you don’t know.”
“We’re fairies and have a sense of things that could happen, but we’re not omnipotent.”
“Just go.”
“Joy,” Blossom started, but Myrtle cut her off.
“Let her be.” The three fairies disappeared.
Joy was left with the task at hand. Somehow she made it through the box, finding more casualties as she neared the bottom. There was no use crying over broken china. Leaving the broken pieces in the box, she rose and started moving the pile of survivors up to the table.
“Joy,” Gabriel said.
“What?” she asked without turning to face him.
His hand was on her shoulder, and he gently turned her. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” she asked. She shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant. “It was an accident. I’m used to them.”
“I’m sorry for the china, but I’m sorrier I got you into this mess. I used you. It’s something I’m not proud of. You’re good for Sophie and me, and I used that goodness to trap you. What I never asked myself is, are Sophie and I good for you?”
&
nbsp; He pulled her into his arms, but Joy held herself stiff, unwilling to weaken her defenses, slim though they were.
“I’d like to be,” he murmured into her hair. “I think I could be very good for you if you’d just let me. Don’t hold me at arm’s length, Joy.”
“I’m not doing it to hurt you,” she whispered against his chest. “I need to maintain some distance.”
“I’m your husband now. You don’t need to be distant from me.”
Joy didn’t know how to explain it to Gabriel when she hardly understood it herself. “Gabriel—”
“I need you, Joy. As selfish as it is, it’s true. I don’t think I’ve ever needed anyone as much as I need you.”
That simple statement was her undoing. Maybe he wasn’t declaring his undying love, but he needed her. It was enough . . . for now.
“See, we told you,” the fairies said as they reappeared in the room.
“Go away,” Joy muttered.
“Please, don’t send me away,” Gabriel whispered as he started to release her.
Joy embraced him, tilted her head and searched for his lips. When she found them, she poured all her frustration, all her longings . . . all her love into that one kiss.
“Wow,” he whispered when they finally came up for air.
“Wow, yourself.” The fairies were still standing behind Gabriel, grinning like crazy. Joy shooed them with her hand. Sporting thumbs up signs, they finally left.
Looking at Gabriel—the man she loved, the man she had married—any wall she’d hoped to build and maintain crumbled. And somehow it didn’t bother her. Maybe it would later, but at that precise moment she wanted nothing at all standing between her and her husband.
“Are you sure that you want . . . I mean, you said you wanted to wait, and I will. But Joy, I want you—need you—more than you can know.”
She broke free from his arms and saw the look of disappointment on his face. Rather than flee, she took his hand and led him towards the stairs. “I think it’s time I truly became Mrs. Gabriel St. John.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, dragging his heels.
Eleven
JOY TURNED AROUND and smiled. “Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
Gabriel laughed, a husky, seductive laugh that made Joy’s stomach flutter. “Honey, I might be slow on occasion, but I’m not stupid.”
“Well, let’s go see how slow you can be,” she quipped, pulling him towards the stairs. “But we’ll try for slow after we try for fast.” She pulled harder, moving towards the bedroom and her fate, before she changed her mind. “Very, very fast.”
Gabriel’s laugh wasn’t seductive this time, it was just plain wicked. When they reached the top of the stairs, he scooped her into his arms. “I think I can oblige.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she whispered.
He kicked open the bedroom door, and murmured, “You’re so beautiful.”
“I’m not.” Joy knew she wasn’t beautiful. Would he be comparing her to other, more fashionable women? She felt shy and slightly embarrassed.
She tried to disengage herself, but he would have none of it. He held fast and whispered, “Tonight I’m an expert on Joy, and let me tell you that you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever experienced.” He kissed her then, and, at that moment, Joy felt truly beautiful, as if she finally was right where she belonged.
Being with Gabriel, Joy found out what true joy was.
AWKWARD.
Joy was the survivor of many mishaps and had felt awkward countless times in the past, but never more so than she did lying in bed next to Gabriel the next morning. He hadn’t moved, but Joy hadn’t, either. She lay there, trying to understand how she’d ended up in Gabriel St. John’s bed. It wasn’t where she had intended to be, at least not until he loved her.
And yet, Gabriel’s bed was exactly where she was. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She loved him. There were so many things to work out in their relationship, but the one thing that Joy was absolutely sure of was that she loved him. Being with him last night had been a natural outgrowth of that love.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Gabriel said. He rolled to his side so he was facing her.
“Good morning,” Joy said, hiking the covers a bit higher.
“So, what deep thoughts have you been thinking so early in the morning?” His hand reached out and toyed with a stray piece of her hair.
She shivered and managed to stutter, “I . . . I . . . don’t know what you mean.”
His hand left her hair and trailed down her cheek. “You’ve been lying here awake for the last half hour, and I don’t think you were thinking happy thoughts.”
“Gabriel . . .” She didn’t know what to say. In all honestly, she wanted him to tell her that what she’d done wasn’t a mistake. If she couldn’t hear the three words she longed to hear, then she would settle for hearing some words of comfort at least.
As if he had the fairy godmothers’ ability to read her thoughts, he pulled her into his arms and murmured, “Last night was right, if that’s what you were worrying about.”
“Gabriel, all the reasons I had for not wanting this side of our relationship to develop are still valid.”
“Joy, we were meant to be together, meant to be here in each other’s arms this morning.”
“I’m afraid,” Joy whispered.
“Of me?”
She wanted to say she was afraid the fairies were wrong and Gabriel would never learn to love her. But she settled for saying, “Of everything. It’s all happening fast. I don’t think I can keep my head above water. And I need to keep my head because if I slip I’m going to drown.”
“Honey, I won’t let that happen. We need you, Sophie and I. Maybe I was selfish rushing you into this marriage, but I truly think that Sophie and I might fill some need in you, too.”
Joy knew he was right. She needed them even more than they needed her. She just wasn’t ready to tell him how deep that need went. There was so much she could tell him, so many words to be said. But she was afraid. Afraid to tell him that she loved him, afraid of his reaction. Worse than rejection would be his sympathy. Having Gabriel pity her would be too much to bear.
Joy filled a need in Gabriel and Sophie’s life. She was his wife, and she was wrapped in his arms. What Gabriel had given her was more than she’d ever thought to hold. She’d save her worries for later when she was alone. For now, she just wanted to be with him.
“Gabriel,” she said, wrapping her arms around him as well. “How do you feel about making love in the morning?”
Gabriel chuckled. “I think you can guess the answer all by yourself.”
The feelings building within him had nothing to do with sex. They were too big and too new to properly analyze, but holding Joy, teasing her, being married to her felt . . . right. He looked at the woman he was married to. How on Earth had he gotten so lucky? Like magic, this woman had appeared in his life and become as much a part of him as breathing was.
He needed Joy. Gently, he stroked her hair. He needed her so much.
“Well, if I asked you sweetly, do you think we could give it a try?”
“I like the way your mind works, Mrs. St. John. I like the way other things work as well.” God, he wanted this woman. Not just sex. He wanted to be more than the man she was married to, more than Sophie’s father. He wanted to be her heart and soul. He wanted her to be his heart and soul.
He wanted her to love him, because . . . because . . .
The feelings that had been growing stronger since the moment he’d met Joy suddenly made sense. He loved her!
Before he could analyze it and try to decide how Joy would react to hearing those words, she said, “And I like the way your . . . well, the way you work, Mr. St. John,” she assured him with mock serious
ness.
Gabriel turned to his wife—to the woman he loved. “Well, let’s see if I can make it work first thing in the morning.”
He’d make love to her now, and he’d find a way to tell her he loved her soon. And then he’d find a way to make her love him back.
TWO DAYS LATER, Joy looked around the house as she took Sophie’s hand to lead her up to bed. The house bore her touch now. Her family pictures stood beside a picture of Sophie and Gabriel on the mantle. What was left of her china lined the cabinet in the dining room. Her grandmother’s quilt and rack were neatly tucked in a corner.
Gabriel’s home was now her home, too. The thought was satisfying.
She climbed the stairs, passing what had been her room, on the way to Sophie’s. Just as she shared a life and a home with Gabriel, she now shared his room. Her clothes hung next to his, and her personal items were intermingled with his. Part of her was thrilled at the thought of spending every night in his arms. Another part was afraid. She’d lost her heart to Sophie, who was so very easy and safe to love. She’d lost her heart to Gabriel as well. Joy very much feared that loving Gabriel wasn’t going to be safe at all.
Sophie climbed onto her bed and looked at Joy expectantly. Joy hugged her and asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind that I married your daddy?” She needed some reassurance that she’d done the right thing, even if the reassurances came from a six-year-old.
Sophie nodded and squeezed Joy tightly. “You’ll tuck me in every night?”
“Well, there might be nights that I have to go somewhere, and every now and then I’ll still have to travel for Ripples, but not too often,” she hastened to add. “Other than those few times, yes, I’ll tuck you in every night.”
“And read to me?” Joy nodded. “And do the voices?”
Joy cackled a wicked cackle and said in a scary voice, “You can be sure of that, my pretty.” She let out a peel of rusty laughter.
Sophie’s delight was evident in her laughter. “I love you, Joy, er, Mommy. I can call you that, can’t I? I mean, I know you’re not my real mother. I never called her Mommy. She didn’t like it.”