Created In Fire (Art of Love Series)

by McDonald, Donna

  She was now seven hundred dollars poorer, but admittedly looking pretty incredible if you didn’t count the fearful expression on her face.

  She took in a deep breath, sneaking a peak at her father as she did so. He looked almost as nervous as she felt.

  “Won’t be long now, Dad,” Carrie told him gently, getting a weak smile in return.

  Carrie could hear music playing, but not the music yet. Yet she found herself waiting for it with an anxiety ridden gut.

  All those shows and events she’d staged hadn’t phased her. Yet waiting to walk down the aisle at her wedding had her thinking of criminals waiting for their call to the gallows to be hanged. Probably not a good sign, Carrie decided, to be comparing getting married to being hanged.

  “There was a big enough crowd when I looked out earlier,” Ethan said, looking down at his adult daughter, surprised to find himself picturing her as a young girl. “You look wonderful, honey.”

  “Thank you,” Carrie said, patting her father’s arm.

  A big crowd, she thought, her stomach rolling. People were still being seated and those seated were waiting—waiting on her.

  She didn’t know how, but evidently Michael had gotten the word out well. Some attendees were her clients. Most were family. A few—a precious few—were people she might have called friends, if she had been that kind of person.

  Carrie had never had many friends, much less a best friend or a girl friend. Her life hadn’t allowed for slumber parties or any of the normal things girls did.

  She had unemotionally recruited Brooke to be her maid of honor before even meeting her because she didn’t want to have to pick between her two sisters.

  Now Brooke, whom Carrie decided she liked very much, was standing at the edge of the vestibule door peeking out and reporting on what was happening while they waited in the queue.

  “I don’t think there’s going to be an empty seat if this keeps up,” Brooke said with laugh, then promptly stopped when she saw Carrie turn the color of her dress.

  This was her third wedding—third marriage, Carrie told herself, trying to calm her nerves. There was no reason for it to be making her sicker than she already was with the baby. Yet butterflies in her stomach told her the truth about how much the situation was getting to her.

  “Carrie—you’re such a wimp,” she whispered to herself softly.

  “No, I’m fine. It’s these dang shoes making me limp,” her father said, misunderstanding what she had said. “I don’t wear them enough to break them in properly.”

  Carrie smiled and laughed. “I didn’t say anything about limping, Dad. I was—I was just talking to myself because I’m nervous.”

  Her father’s gaze met hers. “Nervous about getting married or about being a wife to your husband? Don’t you still think Michael Larson is a good man?” he asked.

  Surprised by the timing and sincerity of her father’s question, Carrie answered off the cuff. “Of course Michael is a good man—not a perfect man—but a good one. He’ll be a good father.”

  “What about husband? Tell me truthfully, Carlene—do you love him?” Ethan asked his daughter, suddenly wanting to see some genuine emotion on her face, even if she got upset. He was surprised to see the truth flash across her face only to be followed by resignation. It—it made him sad and reminded him of Maggie.

  “Yes,” Carrie said, unwilling to dishonor Michael by admitting her fears when he’d defended her to her father before. “Yes. I love him, Dad.”

  “Enough to marry him?” Ethan asked more softly. “Carlene, you don’t have to do this. I can have you out the door and hid before anyone even knows you’re gone.”

  Carrie looked at her father in shock. “Gone? I thought you’d think I was doing the right thing marrying the father of my child.”

  “Part of me does think that,” Ethan admitted. “I can’t say differently, but—,”

  Carrie searched her father’s expression, astounded at what she saw in his gaze. It was a level of caring and concern that she’d never thought he would feel for her.

  She lifted a hand to his face without even being conscious of doing so.

  “I don’t have the faith you have, but I can tell you it’s the honest truth that Michael Larson is the only man I’ve ever truly wanted or loved. My—my trust in him is not what it should be as a wife, but this is as close to what you want for me as I am probably ever going to get. He’s a good man in most ways, Dad. The rest I’m trying to figure out. I need to marry the father of my child,” she said. “Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” Ethan said, his heart almost strangling him as her sense of rightness hit him full force.

  But Carlene wasn’t happy; she wasn’t joyful. She was as sad as her mother had been on their wedding day. A thousand, thousand times over the years he had wished he’d been a better groom to her mother. Now, like it or not, he was watching his daughter relive his life. And Ethan knew that one day—just like Maggie—Carlene would regret the lack of joy. He prayed for words to help him soothe her heart.

  “Carlene—I believe Michael when he says he loves you. I may not think he’s the best choice, but I’m surely convinced of that much. He would take on the world to take care of you. If you love him back, that’s enough to build a good life,” he said.

  Carrie nodded, blinked back tears and nodded again. “I know he would. So you and I are good about me marrying Michael?”

  Ethan blinked and nodded as well, shocked to realize it mattered to her way more than he had ever imagined. He was evidently as blind as his wife had said he was about Carlene. “Yes, honey. We’re good.”

  Carrie pulled herself together as the wedding march started. Brooke walked out of the vestibule and disappeared.

  “Dad, if you’re praying right now, would you please ask that I not throw up before this is over?” Carrie asked.

  Beside her, Ethan grinned. “Well, if you do throw up, make sure you hit these shoes. They are the most uncomfortable things in the world, but your mother bought them for me. I wouldn’t mind if they had a happy accident so I could get a new pair.”

  Carrie snickered. Her father had a sense of humor. Who knew? “That shouldn’t be a problem. My aim is lousy. I tend to hit everything when I spew.”

  “That’s my girl,” Ethan said, patting her hand and hearing her laugh as they stepped forward.

  Carrie’s breath caught as a church full of people stood. She looked around in amazement at everyone, smiling automatically at the faces smiling back at her. Butterflies rose in a mass from her stomach fluttering up to her throat.

  And then she looked at the man standing at the end of aisle, his dark hair drawn back and practically blending into his black suit. In all that blackness, Michael Larson should have looked like the villain she thought him for so long to be, but it wasn’t like that all.

  She hadn’t lied to her father. Michael was the only man, and his gaze on hers shut out everyone else. All Carrie saw as she walked with her father was the man she’d spent the last few weeks living with, sparring with, and making love with.

  Her feet took her closer. Really was there any other choice but to marry him?

  She was a bride. Michael Larson’s bride. In a white dress.

  She was walking to him, a man who had eyes for no one but her at the moment.

  A bride—her—marrying Michael Larson, the father of her child.

  Her head spun and she weaved a little until she felt her father’s grip right her. The dizziness passed, only to be followed by tears. It reminded her of the only reason she and Michael were even doing this. Without the baby, she might even be married to Tom, even after the night spent with Michael.

  She blinked rapidly as they got closer, trying not to be sick.

  Then her father stopped a couple feet in front of Michael.

  The reverend started talking, but she didn’t hear him. Carrie’s gaze, which had been fixed on Michael’s, swung to her father as his voice rang loudly through the congre
gation.

  “Her mother and I happily give our daughter Carlene Jean Addison into the love and care of Michael William Larson. They have our blessing for this marriage.”

  At the reverend’s nod, her father bent to hug her and kiss her cheek. Carrie put her arms around him, hugging him close, holding tight.

  Ethan started to pull back, changed his mind, and hugged his daughter even closer. He kissed her hair, uncaring of the time it was taking. He wasn’t turning loose of her until he had to—just this once. “Be happy, Carlene.”

  Carrie nodded and made herself left go of her father. As her father stepped away, Carrie saw Michael holding out his hand.

  “Marry me?” he asked, thinking Carrie looked like she was going to run back down the aisle to the door any second.

  To Michael’s profound relief, Carrie sniffled once and put her hand in his.

  Michael almost laughed at the audible sigh of relief from the entire congregation. You’re not any more worried about it than I am, he thought.

  Carrie looked at him and whispered. “Yes I want to run. No I’m not going to. Let’s do this before I start crying uncontrollably.”

  Michael held up his right hand before the reverend could go on. He couldn’t do it this way. He couldn’t marry her without knowing he had given some choice in the matter.

  The other hand he used to lift Carrie’s hand to his mouth for a kiss. Then he let it go and took one step back.

  “Run if you need to Carrie. Just know that I’ll eventually come after you and talk you into this again. You’re the woman I want for my wife. But if this is adding to the rest of the pressure you’re under right now, then we won’t do this today. We’ll work things out differently,” Michael said, trying to ignore his eyelid twitching and the muscle ticking in his jaw.

  Carrie looked at Shane standing behind Michael and noticed he’d shaved and trimmed his hair for the occasion. She didn’t look at his eyes.

  She looked at the reverend waiting for her decision. His gaze was fixed on the bible in his hands. The man looked more nervous and uncomfortable than anyone.

  She didn’t look at the people in the congregation who were also waiting on her to decide. They might not have heard the entire conversation, but the gist was clear.

  Her fear of marrying Michael was now a matter of very public record.

  Carrie just looked at Michael, whose gaze she knew had never wavered from her.

  He truly didn’t care what anyone thought, she realized. Michael would let her turn and run away, would let her break her agreement with him, because he followed some internal code of rules that was a complete mystery to her. That was who he was, and it was that same frustrating, unfathomable man who had very passionately put his child inside her.

  So it still came down to what she was going to do about it.

  This decision was hers, but it wasn’t. She had promised Michael his child and legal rights to his child. She’d signed a contract to make sure of it. She wanted him to have it.

  So why did this wedding feel like she was giving him rights to her? And why was that what she feared most?

  She had been divorced two times already and took precautions to guarantee her escape from this marriage as well. That was the problem, she thought. It was about the problem of leaving, she conceded.

  And today it was also about the problem of staying.

  Carrie was scared because she finally actually believed Michael when he said she was the woman he wanted for his wife, even if she also believed that she would never be able to be a genuine wife to him.

  At some point, she would want to run, and her therapy had confirmed it. She could tell the need was coming. Her therapist had suggested she stall the wedding, but she had convinced herself it was just a business proposition even though that’s not what it felt like at the moment.

  That’s how she knew she would run. But not today, she thought, holding Michael’s gaze.

  Today she would do what was right and what she promised.

  “Ask me again,” she ordered, swallowing hard.

  “Marry me, Carrie Addison. Be my wife,” Michael demanded this time, because it was beyond him to make it a question again.

  “Yes,” Carrie said clearly. “Yes—I will marry you, Michael. Yes—I will be your wife.”

  This time when Michael lifted his hand to her, she put hers in it and felt his tremble. She tightened her hold to reassure him of her resolve and felt him relax. It was like they had passed some sort of test together and could now move on.

  The rest of the ceremony was hazy to Carrie, but the weight of the ring on her left hand when it was over was a reminder of how real it had been.

  Dizziness overcame her, and her sisters went with her to sit on a pew for a few moments while Michael talked to well wishers. They whispered to ask if everything was okay and wanted to know what she and Michael had talked quietly about for the eight minutes before the ceremony actually started.

  Eight minutes, Carrie thought, amazed that it had been so long.

  Michael had faced her and everyone, and waited a whole eight minutes for her to make up her mind about what she needed to do.

  As wedding presents went, Carrie decided, it was the most unusual one she’d ever received. But then Michael knew her better than any man ever had.

  Later at the reception, when they had a few minutes alone while they waited for the cake to be photographed, Carrie stepped into Michael’s arms, tugging them around her for a hug so she could speak quietly to him. She raised her arms to his shoulders and stood on her toes when his hold tightened.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you at the church. I—I had a panic attack. Thank you for staying calm and seeing me through it,” she whispered.

  “I wasn’t embarrassed,” Michael whispered back fiercely. “I was terrified you really were going to run. There’s a big difference.”

  Carrie pulled back to look into his eyes. “That makes two of us then. I was terrified too. I’m still having trouble believing I really married you.”

  “Can we just rewind to the apology part and skip your doubts?” Michael said, holding her at arms length to keep from acting on it. “I need to reassure myself that this really happened and you went through with it.”

  “Sorry. No time for consummation now,” Carrie said, trying to tease.

  Michael gave her a narrow-eyed look as he ran a hand over her back and stepped to her side. He relived the abject terror he’d felt earlier and thoughts about consummating his marriage to Carrie had a haze of lust dropping over him that blocked out everyone but the two of them.

  “Consummation. I like the sound of that word. I’m feeling a definite need to stake a claim to the only field I intend to plow for the rest of my life.”

  Carrie lifted her chin, irritated that Michael chose that moment to show his possessive side. She looked around embarrassed, hoping no one heard what he said.

  “Shush. That makes me sound like a piece of property. That’s not very romantic or smooth.”

  “If you wanted smooth and romantic, you shouldn’t have made me sweat in front of a church full of witnesses,” he said, dragging her forward with a strong grip. “Time for cutting cake, Mrs. Larson. None in the face, mind you.”

  “For the record, I am not anyone’s field,” Carrie said, stepping ahead of him to the table. “I’m sorry I ever used that analogy.”

  “Oh, but you are a field. Today, you are a field of white lace covered peaks and valleys. I intend to go exploring later and find the perfect spot for sowing my seed,” Michael announced, smiling wickedly.

  “Then that would be very redundant of you,” Carrie said coldly, smiling at the camera snapping and capturing her furious glare as it was lifting to Michael’s hot, lust-filled one.

  Michael spun her to him and gripped her fiercely as he whispered to her. “Maybe I’m scouting for next time.”

  Carrie’s face flushed at the thought of Michael wanting more children. She hadn’t even accepted th
is one. He couldn’t seriously think she would have more with him, could he? A whole new round of panic set in about what she had gotten herself into by marrying him.

  Michael lifted one of Carrie’s limp hands in his and sliced cake as everyone clapped. He took a fork and cut a bite, lifting it to her mouth.

  “Open up, Mrs. Larson,” he commanded, smiling when she did as she was told.

  The audience laughed and clapped. The camera flashed. Her obedience was captured on an image that could last for several lifetimes.

  Oh no. No—Carrie thought. She was not going to let her need for Michael or even the baby make her stupidly complaisant with a man who called her his field. She was not his field. She was barely his wife and certainly wasn’t going to make a habit of tolerating his macho tendencies.

  Carrie narrowed her gaze on Michael’s laughing one. He was controlling and possessive, two traits that could be charming one minute and completely annoying the next. With anger rising, she picked up a handful of cake and shoved it in Michael’s surprised face.

  “Sure, Mr. Larson. Here’s your bite.”

  The audience laughed and clapped. The camera flashed. But so did Michael’s gaze on hers.

  Michael raked cake from his face as people laughed. There were many suggestions for him to retaliate, but he could think of only one way to soothe his ego and really even the score. He pulled a resistant Carrie to him and kissed her deeply and intimately while everyone clapped madly.

  “I’ll eat the rest of my cake later,” Michael said loudly to the people watching and laughing. “I can think of better places to put icing instead of all over my wife’s lovely face.”

  “Michael! Don’t you know everyone here can hear you?” Carrie asked sarcastically, her face turning a bright red.

  “Want me to repeat it louder?” Michael asked, licking cake and icing from his fingers as people nervously laughed and coughed behind their hands.

  “You jerk. I can’t believe I ever thought marrying you was good idea,” Carrie said fiercely.

  Then Carrie did run—well, not really. It was more like stomping away and fighting through the shocked onlookers. If she had stayed, Michael would have ended up with a whole wedding cake on his head.