Plain Jane MacAllister

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “Trevor Mark?” Mark said, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. “He carries my first name because you believed it would have destroyed my future, if he had my last name, if I’d come back to Ventura and married you when you found out that you were pregnant?”

  “Wow,” Emily said. “You finally got it. For a brilliant man, you sure are slow sometimes. Not that you believe that I really loved you. Oh, forget this. I’m going to go look for Trevor and—”

  “I believe,” Mark said. He closed the distance between them and framed Emily’s face in his hands. “I believe that you loved me then and that you love me now. I believe that I was so wrong and said such cruel and hateful things to you that I should, and am, begging you to forgive me.

  “And I know,” he went on, his voice raspy with emotion, “that I love you, Emily MacAllister, and that I never stopped loving you.”

  Emily blinked. “Pardon me?”

  “I…love…you,” Mark said. “And, oh, man, you love me. We can have it all, don’t you see? I want to marry you, Emily. I want to be your husband and Trevor’s father, be a family, the three of us. Forgive me, please, for the hateful things I said to you. I truly love you and will for the rest of my life. And I love Trevor, too, and will love the brother or sister we’ll give him if you’re willing. Marry me, Emily. Please. Say that you’ll be my wife. Please? Say yes?”

  Emily drew a shuddering breath that seemed to come from the very depths of her broken soul. She looked at Mark with tear-filled eyes and spoke one word that held an echo of pain so deep, so chilling, it defied description.

  “No.”

  Ten

  Time stopped.

  Mark felt as though his world was tilting on its axis, dumping out his life like a scattered jigsaw puzzle. All the pieces were there, but none of them were fitted snugly together the way they belonged in order to complete the desired picture.

  “Emily…” he said, reaching out one hand toward her. “Come on. Please. Let’s sit down and talk about this and—”

  “No,” Emily said, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to discuss.” She drew a shaky breath. “Mark, I made decisions so many years ago that I thought were right for everyone involved. But I was wrong, so terribly wrong.

  “Because of those choices my son is suffering the pain of what he sees as a horrendous betrayal by his mother. He now knows that I lied to him and…and he hates me, hates what I’ve done to him, and he has every right to be hurt and angry.

  “It doesn’t matter how I might feel about you, or you about me. I have to focus on Trevor, on attempting to somehow repair the damage I’ve done. I can’t think about anything else…only Trevor. I hope, pray, he’ll forgive me for the lies, learn to trust me again.”

  “We’ll approach Trevor together, Emily,” Mark said. “You’re not alone, not anymore. He’s angry at me, too, but we’ll work it out as a family, put all the pieces of the puzzle together so it’s right for everyone. Oh, don’t you see? We can have—”

  “No,” Emily said, her voice rising. “I made the wrong decisions alone. I’ll attempt to repair the damage I’ve done to that little boy alone. I want, I need, to do it this way. If you want to try to mend fences with Trevor you’ll have to do it on your own. You and I are not together, Mark. I don’t have emotional room for an us. I’m concentrating on Trevor, nothing more. If this hurts you, I’m sorry, but it’s the way it has to be.”

  “You’re doing it again,” Mark said, with a flash of anger. “You’re making decisions for everyone, especially for me, without my input, my ideas, thoughts, my help. Didn’t you learn anything from the last time you did it this way? You were wrong back then, and you’re wrong now. Stop and think about what you’re doing.

  “Damn it, Emily, I’m not a couple of thousand miles away this time, I’m right here, willing, wanting, needing to stand by your side through this. Don’t shut me out. Not again. God, Emily, not again.”

  “I have to do it this way, Mark. I…”

  The telephone rang and Emily turned and ran into the kitchen with Mark close behind her. She snatched up the receiver.

  “Trevor?” she said.

  “No, dear, it’s your grandmother,” Margaret MacAllister said. “Trevor is here. He’s terribly upset, but your grandfather and I have been able to piece together what has happened from the things Trevor is saying.

  “He knows that Mark is his father but feels that Mark having kept that truth from him indicates that Mark isn’t certain he wants Trevor as his son.”

  “Oh, Grandma, that’s not true,” Emily said, blinking away fresh tears.

  Margaret sighed. “My darling, Trevor is devastated over the lies you told him about his father being dead. He’s a very confused, unhappy little boy.”

  “I was wrong about so many things, Grandma,” Emily said, giving up her battle against the tears. “I’ll spend the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes, trying to make amends, begging him to forgive me, to trust and believe in me. Love me again.”

  “Let’s just take one step at time,” Margaret said gently. “Everyone needs to calm down and sort things through. Trevor is going to spend the night here with us. He’s exhausted, isn’t thinking clearly right now. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Yes. Yes, okay,” Emily said, a sob catching in her throat. “Tell Trevor that I love him and… No, he doesn’t want to hear that now, won’t believe it. Oh, God, what have I done? So many lies.”

  “That have a way of coming back to haunt a person tenfold, my darling,” Margaret said. “Well, what’s done is done. Try to get some sleep, Emily. I’m afraid the new day will be filled with difficulties and you’ll need to be at your best. Good night.”

  “Good night, Grandma,” Emily said, crying openly. “Take good care of my baby for me.”

  Emily replaced the receiver, then covered her face with her hands as she gave way to her tears. Mark raised his arms to reach out for her, wanting to hold her close, comfort her, let her know she wasn’t alone in her misery, but then dropped his arms heavily to his sides, curling his hands into tight fists.

  “Do you…do you want me to leave, Emily?”

  Emily nodded, then stumbled to the chair at the table and sank onto it. She folded her arms on the top of the table and buried her face in the crook of one elbow, weeping as though her heart was breaking into a million pieces.

  Never in his life, his entire life, Mark thought, staring at Emily, had he felt so impotent, so useless. His physical size and strength meant nothing. The love he possessed for Emily and their son meant nothing.

  The pieces of the puzzle were being scattered by the wind of despair, and he had the sinking, chilling fear that he’d never be able to gather them all together again.

  A steady drumming sound reached deep into Emily’s mind and pulled her from the darkness. She’d finally fallen into a restless slumber of nightmares. Now she raised her head slowly, foggily deciding that she was in the midst of a strange dream where she was sleeping while hunched over the kitchen table. It was pitch-black except for the tiny lighted numbers on the microwave that declared it to be just after midnight.

  The drumming noise continued in a maddening rhythm and Emily got to her feet. She was tired and achy in this dream and she had to quiet the beating tempo so she could rest again.

  Hardly realizing she was moving she made her way toward the sound, crossing the dark living room, then opening the front door.

  Mark was there.

  She could see him clearly in the silvery glow of the moon and stars. Because this was a dream, she didn’t have to think, she was allowed only to feel and she lifted her arms to welcome him into her embrace.

  Mark stepped forward and drew her close, burying his face in her silky hair as he pushed the door shut with one foot.

  “I couldn’t stand it another minute,” he said, his voice muffled slightly. “I was pacing the floor in my hotel room, kept hearing you crying, so sad, so… I had to come back, Emily, because I love
you so much and…”

  “Shh,” she whispered. “I’m not crying. I’m dreaming. It was a nightmare, I think, but now it’s a wonderful dream because you’re here, and I love you, and I want to make love with you and… Oh, this is a glorious dream.”

  Mark raised his head and frowned. “Are you all right? Are you awake? I mean really awake, Emily?”

  “Tired. I’m very tired. I can’t think now because I’m much too tired, but I can feel, and I am, and I want you, Mark.”

  “No, I won’t take advantage of you, Emily. You’re not yourself. You’ve been through so much tonight and… I’ll tuck you in bed, then leave. Come on. Let’s go down the hall to your room.”

  Mark encircled Emily’s shoulders with one arm and led her to the bedroom, aware that she was weaving on her feet. In her room, he snapped on the lamp on the nightstand, swept back the blankets on the bed, smoothed them, then fluffed the pillow.

  When he turned to Emily again she was dropping the last of her clothes to the floor to stand naked before him, the small lamp casting a golden glow over her.

  “Ah, Emily, don’t,” Mark said with a groan, as heated desire rocketed through his body. “You’re killing me. You’re groggy, not thinking clearly and I won’t… No. Get in bed and I’ll cover you and… Quickly. Okay? I’m not made of stone. Crawl in here.”

  “I’m awake now. I really thought I was dreaming when I answered your knock at the door. Mark, I can’t dwell anymore tonight on the terrible mess I’ve made of everything. I’ll face it all again in the morning.

  “But tonight? I just want to be me, Emily MacAllister, the woman, special, beautiful and yours. I love you, Mark, so much and I refuse to think beyond that fact. Not now. Can’t we have this night together, knowing we love each other as we did years ago, never really stopped loving each other? Just one night before the world comes crashing down on me again?”

  “I…”

  “Please?” she whispered.

  It was that one word spoken in such a soft, feminine voice that was a combination of a woman who knew her own mind and a little girl asking for something only he could give that was Mark’s undoing.

  He closed the distance separating him from Emily, framed her face in his hands and kissed her gently, reverently, pushing into oblivion the knowledge that this might be the last night they would have together.

  Emily encircled Mark’s neck with her arms and deepened the kiss, savoring the taste, the aroma, the strength and power of Mark, cherishing it all.

  Mark broke the kiss only long enough to step back and shed his clothes, then they tumbled onto the bed, reaching for each other eagerly as the heat of desire within them burst into raging flames.

  There was no world, no worries or woes, nothing, beyond the two of them and what they were sharing. Their lips met, then tongues met in the sweet darkness of Emily’s mouth, as Mark skimmed one hand over her body, igniting a path of fiery need.

  He shifted to draw one of her breasts deep into his mouth and Emily whimpered with the want of him. Mark moved to the roundness of her stomach, then lower, kissing, licking, tasting, savoring.

  This night, Emily thought hazily, is ours. She was making love with the man she loved so much there weren’t words yet invented to describe its intensity. This night was Mark.

  Emily, Emily, Emily, Mark’s mind hummed. How he loved her. This night was a gift, a chance to use stolen time to put the pieces of the puzzle together and hold fast to the glorious picture they created until the light of dawn blew the jagged pieces apart again.

  Emily touched the tip of her tongue to Mark’s shoulder, marveling at the salty taste of his moist skin. She splayed one hand on his back and was awed once again by the tight muscles that moved beneath her palm.

  What a wondrous man Mark had become, she thought dreamily, and she was his equal, his partner, a woman matching with femininity his incredible masculinity. She was beautiful.

  Oh, the heat, she thought. She was consumed by it, was going up in flames of desire so hot she was going to be nothing more than cinders if Mark didn’t hurry, quell the fire burning within her. Oh, dear heaven, yes, he had to come to her. Hurry, hurry, Mark, hurry…

  “Hurry,” Emily said, a sob catching in her throat. “Oh, please, Mark, I can’t bear it another second. Hurry, my love. I want you so much.”

  “And I want you,” Mark said, his rational mind buried beneath the heat of passion soaring.

  He moved over and into her, filling her, instantly starting a pounding, thundering rhythm that stole the very breath from their bodies. Heat swirled and coiled deep within them, tightening, carrying them up, closer to where they wanted, needed, had to travel to…together.

  And then they were there.

  “Mark!”

  It was all, everything, and more than they had ever experienced together before as they were flung into a place of unbelievable splendor. They clung tightly to each other, held fast to the one they loved, wishing with hearts nearly bursting with love never again to let go.

  They floated. Unable to speak but mentally calling the name of the other. Down. Slowly. Gently. Returning. Sighing with sated contentment. Etching indelibly in their minds what they had shared.

  Mark kissed Emily, then moved off her to settle close to her side. He fumbled for the blankets, drew them over their cooling bodies, then rested his lips on Emily’s forehead as she nestled her head on his shoulder.

  “I…” Mark started, then paused. “Forget it. I’ll never find the words to say how wonderful… No, I can’t describe it.”

  “I know. It was… No, I won’t be able to find the words, either.”

  They were silent for several, reliving-it-all minutes, then Mark suddenly stiffened and shifted up to rest on one forearm, staring at Emily.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, hell. Oh, man,” he said. “Emily, I didn’t protect you. I don’t believe this. I never made a mistake like that when we were kids and…”

  “…and I got pregnant with Trevor despite your precautions.”

  “There’s no excuse for what I just did,” Mark went on. “I’m a grown man, for crying out loud. I’m so stupid. I didn’t give one thought to—”

  “Shh,” Emily said, placing her fingertips on Mark’s lips. “It’s all right. It’s the wrong time of the month. Don’t worry about it, Mark.” She smiled. “Besides, this night is…yes, it’s a dream. We’ll go back to when I thought I was dreaming when I opened the door and saw you standing there in the glow of the moon and stars. It’s all a glorious dream.”

  Mark matched her smile. “You’re crazy and I love you, Emily MacAllister.”

  “I’m in the midst of a dream of ecstasy and I love you, Mark Maxwell,” Emily said, then her lashes drifted down and she gave way to blissful slumber.

  Eleven

  They woke at dawn and reached for each other to make slow, sweet love in the shadowy light. Afterward they lay close, not speaking, not wanting to break the loving spell encasing them in a safe and sated cocoon.

  “Well,” Mark said finally, “when I blow it, I do a great job of it. Not only did I make love to you twice…strike one, strike two…without protecting you, but I also spent the entire night here. The neighbors can have a field day with the fact that my vehicle was in front of your house from dark until dawn. That’s strike three. I’m out.”

  “Not yet,” Emily said, snuggling even closer to the warmth of Mark’s body. “Soon, but not yet.” She sighed. “I wonder what frame of mind Trevor will be in when he wakes up at my grandparents’.”

  “Back to reality,” Mark said, frowning. “Emily, I know you said that you wanted to talk to Trevor alone, then leave me to speak to him on my own. I really believe it would be better for him, for the three of us, to sit down together and discuss this. I’m guessing that his hurt, anger, at you and me is all intertwined. Why put him through it twice?”

  “Well,” Emily said slowly, “maybe you’re right. Yes, that makes sense. But what
if he feels we’re ganging up on him, two against one?”

  “He’s so upset already,” Mark said, sifting his fingers through Emily’s silky hair, “that we’re in a damned-if-we-do, damned-if-we-don’t mode anyway. We’ll be honest and up-front, answer all of his questions. That’s all we can do, Emily.”

  “He hates me.”

  “No, Trevor does not hate you. That screamer of his was typical adolescent behavior. We hurt him, he hurt us back. Harsh words were the only means of defense he had available.”

  “How do you know all this? You sound like an expert on the subject.”

  “I was an I’m-almost-thirteen-years-old boy myself once, remember?” Mark paused. “We’re all supposed to be at a birthday shindig at your grandparents’ house this afternoon, aren’t we?”

  Emily wiggled free of Mark’s embrace and sat up in the bed. “I forgot all about that. It’s at one o’clock. Oh, this is terrible. We can’t attend that party with Trevor glowering at us from the opposite side of the room.”

  “Then I suggest we meet with him well before the scheduled time for the event.”

  “I’ll call my grandparents and tell them we’ll be coming over there early to talk to Trevor and…”

  “Emily, could we stop a minute here and focus on the fact that we’re in love with each other?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Mark said, then flipped back the blankets on the bed. “I’ll get dressed, then go back to my hotel and shower and change. You can call me there and tell me what time to pick you up to go to the summit meeting of the century with our son.”