by Ami Weaver
He had just finished when there was a knock at the front door. He could guess from all the joy coming from the dogs that it was his mom. She always had a treat for them.
He was right. She smiled at him when he answered the door and petted the dogs, giving them their treats before greeting him with a quick hug.
“Nice that I rate below the dogs,” he said affectionately, and she patted his arm.
“Oh, don’t be silly. But you don’t slather attention on me the way they do.”
“Slather is the key word there,” he noted drily as Lilly attempted to lick his mother’s hand while she walked toward the kitchen. She washed her hands and set another bag on the counter.
“So. How’s Darcy?”
Mack winced at his mother’s question. “Fine, as far as I can tell.”
His mother made a harrumphing noise. “As far as you can tell? How can you not know?”
Floored Mack stared at his mother, whose narrowed gaze was lasered in on him. “Why would I know?”
Exasperation laced her tone. “Mack. Because you are working with her. Because you guys have a history—”
Mack held up a hand. “History or not, we’re not chatty.” He didn’t want to explain how trying to reconnect, even tenuously, kept resulting in dead ends. It bothered him. A lot. “We’re not—it’s been a long time, Mom.”
His mother opened the fridge and examined the contents as if all the answers to her confusing offspring resided inside, then turned and grabbed the bag she’d brought. “Maybe you can make it right with her.”
Mack frowned. “I thought you didn’t want her anywhere near me.”
“Why would you think that?” Seeming truly shocked, his mother set the bag back down with a thump. “You and Darcy were perfect for each other. I don’t think—” She stopped abruptly.
“Don’t think what?” he asked softly.
She pulled out the first container, paused, then turned to him. “Honestly, I don’t think she was ready to get married.”
Mack’s jaw dropped. “How can you say that? You were pushing me to do it!”
She nodded. “I was. But looking back, I see she wasn’t ready for any of it. Not like you were. She loved you—I have no doubt about that—but she wasn’t ready for the wife-and-motherhood thing.”
“She kind of didn’t have a choice,” he pointed out, even as his stomach soured. Could his mother be right?
She looked at him, her gaze serious. “That’s exactly my point, Mack. She didn’t have a choice. And before she could even adjust to any of it, she lost all of it. I wish—” She stopped and pressed her fingers to her lips. “I wish I’d seen it then. I wish we hadn’t pushed you to do right by her, when it was clearly not what she was ready for.”
Mack sat there, stunned. “She could have said no, for God’s sake. I didn’t force her to marry me.” Had he, inadvertently? He’d certainly worked to convince her. Maybe, in retrospect, that should have been his first clue.
She reached over and rubbed his arm. “She could have, you’re right. And you were a wonderful husband. If there’d been no—accident, I think you’d have worked it all out and stayed together.”
Would they have? As soon as the going got tough, she’d abandoned him emotionally, or so he’d always believed. Now it made sense, especially if his mom was right, and she hadn’t been ready.
God, he was an idiot. Worse.
“I guess we’ll never know,” he said, and heard the note of sadness in his tone. His mother did, too, if the soft look she sent him was any indication.
“Maybe you can start again,” she suggested.
“I don’t think so.” He thought of the pain in Darcy’s eyes, and the fierce longing he had to hold her. It was a bad idea. Mack shook his head and pushed back from the counter. “It was a long time ago. We aren’t the same people anymore.”
“Exactly,” she said, so soft he almost didn’t catch it. In fact, he decided to pretend he hadn’t heard her. Best that way.
Because if she was right, he had to rethink everything he thought he’d known.
Chapter Eight
Darcy ducked into the warm-up shack. Lori, the teenager working, gave her a smile. Christmas music played softly in the background and a fire crackled in the fireplace. The little building smelled of cider, coffee and hot chocolate.
“Hey, Lori. How’s it going back here? You got enough cups and cocoa and coffee?”
Lori smiled. “Yep, all good. Been pretty steady back here.”
“That’s good.” Darcy took a moment to check the supplies. “The snow brings people out.”
“Yes, it does.” The bell over the door jingled and a family came in. Lori greeted them with a smile, and Darcy slipped back out into the snow. It sifted lightly down, as if Mother Nature knew it was two weeks before Christmas and was giving her all to make some magic. Enough to be pretty, not enough to hinder anyone stomping around in it.
Perfect. She walked back up to the pole barn, hearing the roar of the baler, the laughter of kids, the notes of Christmas music here and there. Despite the snow, she wasn’t cold. And if it weren’t for the fact her uncle was in the hospital, her ex was about to buy her childhood farm—well, no, just for a heartbeat she was happy. In this moment, she was happy,
Her therapist would be so proud of her.
She skirted the busyness but noted the full parking lot as she made her way to the house. Uncle Joe was possibly to be released from the hospital today—seemed a little early to Darcy for someone who’d had heart surgery just a few days ago—but he was doing well and Marla didn’t seem alarmed, so she’d go with it.
“Ready?” she asked as she came in the warm kitchen. Marla was seated at the table, tying her bootlaces.
“I am. Let’s go.”
They left the house and got in Darcy’s car. She brushed the fluffy snow off quickly, and they were on their way. Darcy followed her aunt to the elevators and tried to breathe normally. The panic was there, pressing in her throat, but it didn’t have claws today. Marla squeezed her arm. She followed her through the maze of corridors. Marla’s stride was brisk and Darcy tried not to look at anything as they went. This was not the same floor she’d been on. It wasn’t even the same wing.
But it was still the same building.
Marla stopped in front of room 527 and went in. “Good morning,” she said, her voice quiet but cheery. Darcy followed her in, and her stomach clenched at the sight of her uncle.
He looked far more frail than he had a few days ago. His hair was mussed—he usually wore a hat from the time he got up until he went to bed—and his skin was pale. He had an IV running from one hand, and the skin around it was bruised and swollen. His eyes were tired, but he smiled at both of them.
“There’s my ladies.”
Marla went over and took his free hand, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and Darcy saw the look of relief that passed her uncle’s face. She came up and kissed him, as well.
“Things okay at the farm?”
In spite of herself, Darcy smiled. He was all business. “Yes. We’re moving along.”
He quizzed her on a few things and she answered. Fortunately, correctly. She was lucky that she’d grown up on the farm and had retained most of the knowledge from way back when.
He sat back after a few minutes and sighed. Marla touched his hand. “If you overdo it before they even discharge you, they won’t let you go today.” Her tone was part affection, part exasperation, and he nodded.
“I know. It’s just hard. To know I’m missing it.”
There was more to that statement than just her uncle wanting the season to go smoothly—more than his need to oversee it. This was the last season and it had to be perfect. And he wasn’t there to make sure it happened.
“Darcy and Mac
k know what they’re doing. They’ve got it all under control.” Marla looked at her for confirmation and she nodded.
“Absolutely.” Too bad she felt anything but under control since she’d been back here and Mack had reentered her life.
* * *
Mack was already at the farm when she pulled back in. This was the second day in a row he’d been out here early. She got out of the car and slammed the door, stomping through the snow to the barn. Kelly, one of the wreath makers, looked up when she came in.
“Hey, Darce. How’s Joe this morning?”
“Good. Ready to come home.”
Kelly’s smile was wry. “Marla will have her hands full when he does.”
Darcy smiled back. “Yes. She will. Have you seen Mack?”
By now, everyone knew she and Mack had been married. While she didn’t talk about it, it had made the rounds pretty quickly. But no one asked her about it, or pressed her. “Pretty sure he went to cut the trees for the delivery today.”
Of course he had. “Okay. Thanks.”
Kelly went back to work and Darcy went out back. She and Mack needed to have a little chat.
Sure enough, there he was, with four other guys, cutting the trees. She stood to the side for a moment, unable to take her eyes off Mack.
Dressed in old jeans and boots, with an insulated jacket and a hat, he looked right at home among the snowy trees. He didn’t hear the approach of the ATV over the sharp whine of the chain saw that felled the trees as if their trunks were made of butter. She pulled her own hat down closer over her ears and came up behind him, the snow crunching under her boots as she picked her way over the drifts to where the men were working. One of the guys saw her and gave a little wave. Mack turned. As soon as she caught his gaze, her insides heated up.
This was bad. A kiss, and now—now she was worried about being in over her head.
He strode through the snow toward her, his strides long and sure on the uneven path. “Hey,” he said when he reached her. She looked up at him, his face ruddy from the cold, and wondered what would happen if she kissed him.
No. She was here to ask him a tricky question. She needed to know. But shouting over the chain saw wasn’t the place for this conversation. She leaned in and he leaned down. “Why exactly are you here?” she said into his ear, trying not to breathe in his scent of spice and fresh air.
He turned his head, and his warm breath tickled her ear. She barely suppressed a shiver. “I’m getting the trees ready for the shipment.”
She shook her head and he straightened up. The chain saw had quit and the first few seconds of quiet after were almost more deafening in the ringing silence. “No. Mack, you’ve got a vet practice to run. Really, why are you here and not there?”
His expression turned cautious. “I told you before. Because your uncle needs the help, Darce. I’ve got my practice under control.”
She had to ask. “Are you trying to make up for what happened?”
He stared at her, then frowned. “What happened? With what?”
“You and me.”
Her words hung in the crystal-cold air for a second. The sounds of the guys dragging the trees to the wagon, their laughter and voices, all of it seemed to be coming through a kind of filter. Mack’s eyes widened and then he frowned.
“What do I have to make up for, Darcy?” The words were clipped and colder than the air around them. She winced when they almost physically struck her, like shards of ice. But she couldn’t say anything, because she could see she’d been wrong. Very wrong. “I’m not here for you, not in the way you seem to think. I’m here to help out, because I know your uncle is out of commission and this is important to him. He and your aunt are my friends, Darcy.”
“Okay,” she said, and turned to go back to the ATV. She’d read something very wrong there. But he caught her arm and, off balance in the snow, she teetered a little as she tried to turn to face him. He ended up with one hand on each of her upper arms.
“What do I need to make up for?” The intensity of his voice made her breath catch.
She blinked at him, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. “Nothing.” He didn’t get it, didn’t understand what she’d been through. He didn’t see his part in it. She’d made a mistake bringing it up. When his eyes narrowed she pulled away and he let her go. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
This time when she turned and walked away he let her go.
* * *
What the hell had that been all about?
All day the odd encounter with Darcy played through Mack’s mind. Over and over. He’d blamed himself for a lot that had happened with them, more maybe than he should have. He’d never viewed working with her uncle as atonement. Joe had never hinted he felt that way, either, so it caught him off guard that Darcy apparently did.
And the upshot seemed to be, it wouldn’t be enough to fix—it. Whatever exactly she blamed him for. Looking back, he could see any number of things. He’d failed her in almost every possible way, and no doubt there were more he didn’t even know about.
So, no. He wasn’t doing this for her. Or for him. He was doing it because it was the right thing, to help out a friend who needed it. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the need to make things right for her, as much as he could, but this wasn’t the way he’d do it.
He let himself in the house and absorbed the dogs’ ardent greeting.
He took care of the drying of paws and dishing out of food, then wandered into his bedroom to take a shower before he scrounged up something to eat. The bedroom he’d have shared with Darcy, if she were still his wife.
That wasn’t a line of thought he wanted to follow.
Bone tired, he showered and dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He waded through the animals to get a container of frozen stew from the freezer and popped it in the microwave. There was a knock at the front door and he frowned, glancing at the time.
He walked through the living room and opened the door to see Darcy standing there, in the dark on his porch. She gave him a tremulous smile and he shoved a hand through his hair before stepping aside. “Darcy. What brings you here? Is Joe okay?”
“Fine,” she assured him as she entered, her arm brushing him as she moved past him. “And I won’t stay long. I just wanted to apologize.”
He closed the door behind her. “For what?”
She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. Her cheeks were pink. He didn’t know if it was nerves, the cold or the fact she was too warm in her down jacket. “For my behavior earlier. I was wrong to come after you like that.”
The microwave dinged behind him, but he didn’t turn around, even when her gaze slid in that direction and back to him. “Bad time?”
“No. Just dinner. Darce. There’s no need—no need for apologies.” He wanted her to smile, to see her relax. One of the dogs came out and shoved his head against her leg. She patted him with her bare left hand and he wondered what she’d done with her rings. Did she still have them? He had his, wrapped in a plastic bag in the bottom of his underwear drawer. Classy all the way. “That’s Sadie.”
“Hi, Sadie,” she said, her gaze still on the dog, who sat down and looked up at her adoringly.
“Do you want to stay?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. And now it was too late to call them back. “I just reheated some stew, if you’re hungry. Otherwise you can just keep me company.”
She hesitated. “I’m not hungry. But I can stay a little bit.”
After he took her coat, she followed him through the house to the kitchen. He wondered what she thought of it, if he should tell her why he’d bought it. Seeing her wary expression as she seated herself at the breakfast bar, he decided not to.
She looked around and he saw the frank curiosity on her face. “This is really nice, Mack.
I like it.”
The words fill him with a silly gratitude. “Thanks. I do, too. Chase and I worked on it together.”
“How long have you lived here?” She nodded when he held up a bottle of wine. He opened a cupboard and took out a glass, then met her gaze and decided he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tell her the whole truth.
“A while now. Long enough to be settled in, I guess.” The evasive answer was kinder. If he told her, she’d do the math and realize when he’d bought the house. That might open up more guilt, and there was no point in either of them going there.
He slid the wineglass across the counter and watched as she fingered the stem. Nervous. He seated himself near her and started in on the stew.
“Do you cook?” The surprise in her voice made him laugh around a forkful.
“God, no,” he said when he’d swallowed. “My mom makes extra and drops it off. She caught me buying a TV dinner once when I ran into her at the grocery store.” He grinned at the memory. Her reaction hadn’t been much different than if she’d caught him buying condoms. “She was horrified. And then I started getting containers.”
Darcy gave a little laugh. “I bet.”
He forked up another bite. “I know I’m too old for my mother to be cooking for me. But she enjoys it. I guess it benefits both of us.”
“I guess so,” Darcy agreed, a slightly wistful look in her eyes.
“You should come to dinner sometime,” he said, and she drew back, already shaking her head.
“Oh, no. After everything...” Her voice trailed off.
“They’d love to see you.” That might be a bit of a stretch when it came to Chase, but after what his mom had said earlier, he knew she would be welcoming.
He wanted to ask her if it was true, if she’d felt rushed into their marriage, then decided now wasn’t the time. Besides, Darcy had always been straightforward. They’d talked about it at length when they found out she was pregnant. She’d never expressed any reservations about any of it at all.