All in the Family

by Heather Graham

  “You don’t have—”

  “I do. Go on, take your shower. I’ll be downstairs. And if you see anything, scream your head off. I may not be old, but I promise, I’m tough.”

  Kelly laughed, brushing his cheek with her knuckles. “I know you’re tough, hotshot. And, hey, I was proud of you today,” she added softly.

  He grinned. “I know, Mom. Thanks.” He gave her a quick hug, then turned back to his own room.

  A little nervously, Kelly threw off her dirty clothes and stepped beneath the shower. She was glad that Jarod had decided to wait with her. She didn’t touch the curtain; she couldn’t even bring herself to glance at the window.

  Maybe it had just been a raccoon, she said, trying to reassure herself. But she knew that it would be a long, long time before she would ever feel comfortable in this shower again.

  Alone.

  With that thought she started smiling, because she had been just fine when Dan had been in there with her.

  And they would have all night tonight. All night. Up at the cabin. Her cabin…

  She paused, remembering Jarod’s admission that they had used her cabin when Sandy had gotten pregnant. And, of course, Jarod had come into existence in that cabin.

  But it still meant everything good to her. Everything good in the world. Stillness, peace, beauty. The sound of the creek, the magic of the sky, the fearless ease of the deer and squirrels. The cabin had been David’s, and it represented everything good about David, too.

  “I loved you,” she whispered aloud. “I really loved you, David McGraw.”

  But he was gone, and he’d been gone a long time. They had lived together long enough to know that love wasn’t just a fantasy, that it was real. Could be real again.

  And then she realized that she was standing in the shower, not moving. She turned off the faucet and gave her head a little shake. Strangely, everything felt very good. David wouldn’t begrudge any of them the cabin. He would secretly have laughed if he’d known about Jarod and Sandy….

  Just as he had always smiled when the cabin and Jarod’s name had been mentioned together.

  He would smile now. He could be jealous, he could be possessive—he could be a lot like his son. But he would like Dan Marquette. Kelly felt it with certainty, and that made her feel very, very good about herself. And about the evening ahead.

  * * *

  Jarod let Dan in when he came to the front door. They talked about the game for a moment, and Jarod asked Dan if he wanted anything to drink, and Dan said no.

  Then, to Dan’s surprise—he’d been as careful as possible about the things he had said—Jarod let out a great sigh of relief. “I’m so glad my mother is spending the night with you!”

  “Ah—what?” Dan asked, sure that he must have heard wrong.

  “With this Peeper guy running around.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Jarod grinned. “Old Reeves can hear a pin drop, you know. I leaned over to give Sandy a kiss on the cheek when we were watching TV, and the next thing I knew, he was standing between us.”

  Dan looked over at Jarod and nodded. He was grateful when Jarod kept talking.

  “Thanks for letting us go on this trip. It’s going to be great. We’re going to have a wonderful time. Apart—I mean. That is, we’ll be together, but—”

  Dan swallowed and waved a hand nonchalantly. “I know what you’re saying, Jarod.”

  “Yeah. Well, if you’re here, I’m going to go, then. Is Sandy ready?”

  “I’m sure she is. Reeves was packing for her.”

  “Wish I had Reeves,” Jarod murmured, then looked at Dan guiltily. “I didn’t mean that she was spoiled, or anything.”

  “She probably is—in some ways,” Dan said.

  Jarod nodded. “Okay. I’m going. Have a good time. Well, don’t have too good a time.”

  “Goodbye, Jarod. And be careful.”

  “We will be.”

  Jarod waved to Dan. Dan heard him run up the stairs to say goodbye to his mother, then rush back down and out the front door.

  Kelly came downstairs a few minutes later. Dan could just see her through the doorway, and he stood, a bit awed despite the fact that he felt he was getting to know her pretty well.

  She looked…beautiful. She was wearing an emerald-green knit dress with a mandarin collar and long sleeves, and the hemline fell well below her knees. Despite that, it was one of the most sensual garments he’d ever seen. It fell over her breasts like a whisper, swirled around her hips, and made her waist something that he’d die to touch, to slip his hands around….

  He didn’t realize that the was staring until she smiled a bit nervously and hurried to him, clasping his arms and rising on tiptoe to kiss him, then twirling around in front of him and glancing back at him anxiously.

  “Well?”

  He laughed ruefully. “Lust is roaring through me,” he told her honestly. More than lust, Kelly, he added silently. Much, much more!

  She turned pink and smiled, and his body caught on fire. So much of what he saw consisted of lies, games, pretenses—but not Kelly. She was so honest. Honest about wanting him, honest about hesitating. So willing to give, but just a little shy about giving.

  He laughed again, reached for her hand, pulled her back to him and kissed her. She smelled like heaven. He didn’t know if it was a scented soap or an exotic and subtle perfume, but it was a temptation he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. Drawing a ragged breath, he set his hands on her shoulders and smiled ruefully.

  “We’d better get going. I made reservations.”

  She nodded, then said, “Oh! Wait!”

  He frowned and waited in the hallway while she raced back up the stairs, and when she came back down toting a massive suitcase he stared at her, puzzled.

  “For one night?”

  “Ah, but you don’t know what’s in it.”

  “A hot tub?”

  “Ha ha.”

  He took the suitcase from her and marveled at its weight. She was small, but strong and tough. “Hot bricks?” he asked.

  “Never you mind, Mr. Marquette.”

  He took her keys and locked the door as they left the house, telling her about Jarod’s comments while they walked to his car.

  Kelly shrugged, unhappy, but philosophical. “They’d just never understand the difference,” she murmured.

  “Is there really such a difference?” Dan asked her ruefully, once they were in the car and out on the road. “Kelly, think about it. They’re expecting a baby, and we all know how Sandy got that way! In another few months they’ll be married, living together. And we’re behaving as if they shouldn’t kiss!”

  Kelly looked down at her hands. “Dan, we can’t condone anything else!”

  “I know.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. He glanced her way several times and saw that she was still watching her hands, so he kept his silence.

  When they reached the restaurant he ordered champagne, and when he made a toast, it was to her dazzling, open, honest, beautiful blue eyes. She laughed, but then he made another toast, very seriously, to another kind of beauty.

  He took her hand across the table. “Kelly, thank you. Thank you very much…for tonight. For inviting me someplace that is really special to you.”

  She moved her fingers idly over his hand, tracing the pattern of the veins. She looked back up at him at last, and he knew that he was staring at her intently, too intently. But he loved her so much that he wanted to learn everything there was to know about her, yet at the same time he knew that the search might take him a lifetime.

  “Hey!” she protested. “People are looking at us.” She smiled playfully trying to break the mood. “I think it’s because I’m so short and you’re so tall.”

  “I think it’s because you’re beautiful.”

  She grinned again, still playing wistfully with his hand. “I think it’s because we’re beautiful—together. Dan, thank you. I feel beautiful with you. You
ng and beautiful.”

  He sipped his champagne, leaning back to study her with wry amusement. “You are young.”

  “Not that young. Just short.”

  “You’re not that short. Five-three is respectable.”

  “Wonderful. I’m only five-two. Against six-four.”

  He shrugged. “Six-three. See?”

  She nodded sagely. “I’m still short.”

  “Young and beautiful. Come on, Kelly, tell me. Just how young?”

  “Well, I’m not underage.”

  “Thirty-four to thirty-six?”

  She twirled her champagne glass, watching the liquid and not him. “Thirty-six in October.”

  He whistled softly. “Aha!”

  “Aha, what?” She stared at him, then flushed. “Well, it was never any massive secret. I made it through my senior year on a real wing and a prayer.” She took a deep breath. “David and I were married in June, and Jarod was born in August.” She stared at him suddenly, defiantly. “Just like Sandy. Sandy and Jarod. And that’s why I know how hard it’s going to be for the two of them.”

  Dan leaned toward her. He took her champagne glass and set it down, then took both her hands in his. “Kelly, you stayed married, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Kelly, people should never get married because of a child. There are options. More today than you had. If Sandy had become pregnant by the man in the moon and wanted to keep the baby, I would have stood beside her all the way, whether the boy did or not. But Jarod loves her. I believe that completely. And she loves him. They may be young, and hell, yes, it’s going to be tough. But love will keep them together. Your life might have been hard, but, Kelly, you two beat the odds. Hell, I had everything in my corner—and we didn’t make it. You did. I think that Sandy and Jarod will make it, too.”

  She smiled wistfully at him. “Think so?”

  He brought her hands to his lips and kissed both palms. “I know so. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I think their parents are going to make it, too.”

  CHAPTER 10

  There were at least fifty people on the ghost tour that night. It was something Kelly had done a dozen times, but she loved it every time. It was really called “Harpers Ferry Myths and Legends,” and the proprietress was a marvelous storyteller who didn’t swear that ghosts existed, but instead merely pointed out the unusual occurrences that had befallen the city.

  There was John Brown, of course. John Brown’s raid had made Harpers Ferry famous for generations to come. Kelly linked an arm through Dan’s and smiled while they listened to the tale of the old gentleman who periodically arrived in the park, and walked around dressed in nineteenth-century apparel. The rangers all thought he was an actor—the visitors all thought he was a ranger.

  He would pose with the visitors, but his image would never come out in the pictures they took. Dozens and dozens of those pictures had been sent to Washington by amazed visitors—people convinced that John Brown’s ghost had returned to the scene of his capture.

  Then there were those who thought that the ghost of Mrs. Harper still floated through the top floor of her house. Her husband told her to bury the family silver, and she had done so. Then she had fallen from a ladder to her death, and some thought that she was still keeping her eye on the buried family treasure—a treasure that had never been found.

  The night was beautiful. Dark, with scattered clouds. The spring air swept around them. They were with the group, but in a way Kelly felt that they had never been more alone.

  They climbed the steps to the church and heard about the priest who had returned to haunt his parish. Dan asked Kelly in a whisper if this was where the kids were going to be married, and she smiled and nodded. He told her that it was beautiful and traditional, and she was surprised at how glad she was that he liked it.

  They went on walking the old streets, and the tales covered the days of bootlegging and revenuers. Dan enjoyed himself thoroughly, and that made Kelly very happy, too.

  When the tour was over and people began to disperse, they stood on the dark, deserted street together, alone, holding hands, gazing at each other.

  “You liked it?”

  “It was wonderful.”

  “Even to a historian?”

  “Especially to a historian.”

  “You like this place?”

  “I love this place. It’s nice at night. It’s as if the entire world belongs to us, and only us, right now.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Kelly murmured. They were standing in back of the old Harper House. The cemetery hill, the Catholic church and the ruins of the Episcopal church were rising behind them, and it was as if that ancient darkness swept around them in a strange blessing. Below them were the river and the main street. By day the costumed rangers would be giving demonstrations on firearms or blacksmithing or day-to-day life in the nineteenth century, but by night it was just an old street, quiet and dark, with a cool breeze that felt like a blessing to Kelly. She wondered if she wasn’t actually a part of the place, West Virginia born and bred, a part of the valley and the mountain, and needing their blessing to take the final step.

  Fantasy, she warned herself. She spent too much time in a fantasy world of dragons and fairies and elves and knights on white chargers. She loved the old mountain tales, and she loved the ghost stories, and she had to warn herself again that romance and love and a relationship had to be much more than a delightful warm feeling when they walked beneath the stars….

  It is, she told herself firmly. Much more.

  They came to Dan’s car, and he slid into the driver’s seat, then looked at her with a grin. “I don’t have the faintest idea where we’re going.”

  “Oh!”

  Kelly gave him directions through the park to the highway and over the border. They actually drove through three states, but it took barely fifteen minutes, and in another five they were halfway up the mountain, parking the car beside the stream.

  “It’s dark out here,” Dan said.

  “Very!” Kelly agreed with a grin. She scampered out of the car, up the walk and into the cabin, thinking wryly that she hoped Jarod had kept the place clean.

  He had.

  It was just a rough-hewn, one-room cabin, the only addition being the bathroom. The fireplace took up almost an entire wall, and Kelly was delighted to see that Jarod had stacked plenty of wood. The spring night was just cool enough to call for a beautiful fire.

  Dan came in with the suitcase she had packed and set it by the counter that separated the kitchen area from the rest of the room. He gazed around at the comfortable sofa and chairs, at the rug in front of the fireplace, and the warm burnt-orange and brown curtains over the windows. Kelly watched him anxiously. His hands were on his hips as he studied the place for a long and careful moment, then turned to her. She hoped desperately that he didn’t think it was just a little nothing of a place she had dragged him to when a motel would have been just fine.

  “It’s wonderful,” he told her, moving to her, dropping his hands on her shoulders and touching her mouth with his. “It’s the warmest place I’ve ever been.”

  She smiled, relieved, and lowered her eyes from his, stepping past him quickly to pick up the suitcase and heave it up on the counter.

  “What…?” Dan murmured with a frown.

  But by then Kelly had opened the monstrosity to display her heavy wares: a stick of pepperoni, several cheeses, crackers and a vintage red wine.

  “Dynamite.” Dan laughed. He caught her hands and drew her against his chest. “Perfect. I’ll make the fire if you’ll cut the pepperoni and pour the wine.”

  She nodded. She didn’t seem to be able to do or say anything else for the moment. He pulled her more tightly against him, and all she could see was the dark fire in his eyes, all she could feel was the way that fire penetrated into her being, making her shiver when she wasn’t cold, making her yearn for the hardness of his body. She gaze
d at him with something like wonder; she had never thought she could feel this way. This wasn’t a fantasy. This was real life turning into magic. His touch could make her tremble, melt, yearn to join him in love.

  She stared at him, touched his cheek softly, drew lines against the strong planes of his face. He caught her hand, returning her stare seriously, intently.

  “I won’t be able to make the fire.”

  “I think you’ve already made it,” she murmured.

  He didn’t reply. She saw a shadow fall over his face, something taut and tense and older even than the mountain, something that sent a thrill racing up her spine. She felt his hands on the zipper of her dress, and heard the rasping sound it made as it skipped and skimmed over nerves already alive and vibrant. She felt the fabric slide down against her flesh. And then she didn’t notice anything at all. The dress had fallen to the floor, and she carelessly kicked it away.

  She wondered at his intentions for a moment when he lowered himself to his knees, and then she felt like Cinderella, discovered by her prince, except that this prince had knelt down before her to remove her shoes, rather than to bestow a slipper. She braced herself against his shoulders; then her fingers tightened, as his hands slid along her thighs to the top of her stockings. She caught her breath and cast her head back, dazed by the rising sensations inside her.

  He remained kneeling before her, and she realized that she had never known what it was to feel so adored. At first she felt strong and inordinately pleased at her power over his desires, and then incredibly weak, when he touched her so deeply with his caress, that she thought she would fall.

  He wouldn’t let her fall. Not fall, nor escape. Nor do anything other than receive. His kiss, his touch, his love…

  He stroked her with a heat and tenderness that filled her until she had no will of her own. He swept her again and again to the brink, eased her down, swept her up and up and…over.

  Panting, gasping, she stared down in amazement, slightly embarrassed. He had been so…intimate, and she was already quivering, drenched….

  “You—you shouldn’t—” she gasped.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I—I—”