He drank his entire glass of watered-down Coke without saying a word. But he didn’t leave.
“I’ll finish up, Lacey,” Rosy said. “Go ahead and go.”
She untied her apron and left it on the counter. Noah slid off the stool. He fell into step beside her, held the door for her, then clamped his fingers around her wrist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m giving you a ride home.” It was the first words he’d spoken since ordering that Coke.
Lacey stood looking at him on the sidewalk in front of The Hill.
There were only a few people on the sidewalk. If Lacey had chosen to scream, someone would have come to her rescue. She wouldn’t scream. She wasn’t the least bit afraid. She was curious and a tad nervous, but she knew Noah wouldn’t hurt her.
He had something to say. He’d told her he loved her and that he wished Joey were theirs. The least she could do was listen. So she let him lead her to his passenger-side door. When he opened it, she got in.
Absently rubbing the wrist he’d just unhanded, she buckled her seat belt and turned the tables on him, her gaze now stalking him. He caught every green light. It would be cruel of her to say this was his lucky day. It would also be a lie.
He pulled into the alley and parked next to her borrowed car. She got out. And he did, too.
“Upstairs,” he said.
“Do not order me around.” She raised her fighter’s chin and started up the newly painted steps.
Noah followed her up the stairs. She unlocked her door, opened it and went in. He closed it quietly. She dropped her purse on the coffee table and raised her eyes to his.
“Okay,” he said, as if a minute had elapsed since she’d told him about her surgery, instead of six hours. “Your appendix ruptured, and there was an infection and some scarring. What else did your doctor say?”
She made a sound of impatience then set about opening windows. She hadn’t intended to end up in her bedroom, but it was too late now because he’d followed her there. He turned on a fan, rested his rear end on the edge of her dresser and settled in.
She looked beyond him at her reflection in the mirror. As usual, her hair had defied the metal clasp. Dark tendrils had escaped, framing her face and falling over the collar of her ivory-colored blouse.
“You want to know what my doctor said?” she parroted.
He nodded and crossed his ankles and arms.
Her long-suffering sighs didn’t seem to faze him.
“My doctor said my appendix had ruptured several hours before my surgery began. There was an infection.”
“And the infection caused internal scarring,” he prodded. “How much scarring?”
She folded her arms, too. “You want a percentage?” she asked.
“Actually, I do.”
“I don’t know what percentage of my innards are scarred, all right? But I can tell you that my fallopian tubes were damaged, the right one more than the left.”
“How much more?” he asked.
“Noah, what in the world? My doctor told me there is a ninety-two-percent chance I’ll never conceive.”
The fan whirred and the barest hint of a breeze jostled the blinds at her window. He uncrossed his ankles, unfolded his arms and stood up. “Just so there’s no confusion,” he said, moving stealthily toward her, “I would have done this if you’d told me the number was a hundred percent.”
“You would have done what?” she asked.
Oh, she talked tough, but she heard the little telltale hitch in her own breathing, and she felt the flutter of hope in her chest. He took another step toward her. He reached into his pocket, and held his hand out to her.
“Would you marry me, Lacey?”
She couldn’t believe her ears or her eyes. She was pretty sure Noah had just proposed. If she could have looked into his eyes, she would have known whether or not she’d heard right, but she couldn’t take her gaze off the ring he held delicately between his thumb and one finger.
Her hands went to her cheeks before she could stop them. She didn’t even try to check her tears. The ring, made of gold, was caught in the lamplight. On the dainty side, it contained a swirl of what looked like diamonds, sapphires, rubies and an aqua-colored stone she couldn’t identify.
She finally looked up at Noah. The glint in his eyes was more inspiring than the ring.
“But, Noah, I can’t give you children.”
“Why do you always have to look on the negative side?”
Her chin came up a notch. “I’m being realist—”
“There’s a ninety-two-percent chance you’ll have trouble conceiving. I did the math. There’s a good chance you will.”
“You call eight percent good?”
He smiled, and eased a little closer, the ring still in his outstretched hand. “Honey, eight goes into a hundred, what, twelve-and-a-half times? That means we’ll have to make love twelve times more than normal. I don’t know about you, but I’m up for the challenge.”
The scathing look she gave him would have brought some men to their knees. It invigorated Noah.
Lacey almost couldn’t help smiling. The man was inspiring, no doubt about it. She held up one hand. “All challenges aside, Noah, there’s a chance, a good chance, I won’t conceive. You want children. You deserve them. I won’t blame you if you walk out the door right now and find somebody who can give you better odds.”
She held her breath, terrified that he might do just that.
“We’ll try,” he said. “We’ll try hard. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll see a specialist. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll adopt, or spoil our nieces and nephews rotten. We’ll be a family of two or three or ten. As long as I have you, I’ll be happy.”
A tear ran down her face.
Wiping it away with the pad of his thumb, he said, “I want to hear you say it.”
She started. “Say what?”
“That you’ll marry me.”
A smile bloomed on her lips. Just below it a butterfly lit at the little hollow at the base of her throat. Below that, a thousand wings fluttered. She tipped her head to one side and studied this man who was as stubborn as she was, as wild as she was, as crazy as she was. “Fine, I’ll marry you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She was about to throw herself into his arms. Luckily one of them had the sense to remember the ring. He took her left hand and slid the ring on her finger. She had to help him get it past her knuckle. It fit her as if it was made for her, the way the glass slipper fit Cinderella in the fairy tale.
“This isn’t just any ring,” Noah said. “My dad gave it to my mother when he proposed. His father gave it to his bride before that. It comes down through a long line of tenacious, determined people—people with deep roots and long memories.”
She sniffled. Admiring the colors in the stones, she said, “Do you think you could kiss me now?”
His arms came around her. In that moment before his lips touched hers, he said, “I can do a hell of a lot better than that.”
Her arms went around him, too, and she lifted her face to his. The thing about Noah was that he kissed with everything he had. He poured everything into it, his heart, his soul, and he had a lot of both.
She drew her arms tight around him, holding him to her, and her to him. Slowly, her hands glided up to his shoulders, and back down again. She loved his back, loved the corded muscles and sinew, loved his narrow hips and rear end. Her hands went there, squeezing.
Something crinkled in his pocket. She reached in like a street urchin and brought out a sheet of paper.
She gave herself up to his kiss for another full minute. She moaned into his mouth, and sighed at his touch. His fingers went to the buttons on her shirt.
She spun around, fitting her back to his front. Never one to pass up any opportunity, he covered her breasts with his hands. He seemed to know instinctively how much pressure to exert, squeezing without hurting her, kneading until she arched her
back and brought one hand to the nape of his neck.
She opened her eyes, and once again noticed the piece of paper in her hand. She unfolded it, and scanned it. It was the itemized bill from the hospital in Chicago. She’d gone over it dozens of times. The PAID IN FULL scrawled across the columns was new.
“What’s this?” she asked.
He groaned at being interrupted in the middle of kissing her neck. “Oh, that.”
Something about those two words breached the haze of her desire. “Why does it say paid in full?”
“Because I wired the money to the hospital a few hours ago.”
“You what?” She turned around. And looked him square in the face. “How?”
“Modern technology.”
That wasn’t what she was asking. “This was for tens of thousands of dollars. How could you have paid it off? Even if you sold your truck, you wouldn’t—”
Her breath caught. There was only one thing he could have sold for this much money.
“Oh, Noah, you didn’t sell your airplane.”
Noah took a deep, fortifying breath. He couldn’t do anything about what was happening below his waist, but he attempted to clear his mind by blinking his eyes.
“I thought maybe we could talk about this later—” He made a little jerking gesture toward the bed with his shoulder. “But obviously you want to talk about it now.”
A circle of pink appeared on her cheeks. He knew what it meant. She was miffed.
“Look, I had three offers before I took her for a test flight. I accepted the best one. There will be other planes.”
“How could you? This was my responsibility. I had every intention of paying this off as soon as the tavern sells. Someone’s interested in it, by the way.”
“Fine,” he said, adopting her favorite word and stance. “When it sells, you can buy us that house with a picket fence you’ve always wanted.”
“You would accept that? You would live in a house I bought? You wouldn’t have a problem knowing you were a kept man?”
He supposed he shouldn’t have grinned, but he couldn’t help it. “As long as you’re the woman keeping me, oh, yeah, I’d be as happy as a clam.”
It must have been the right thing to say, because she tipped her head and gave her shoulders a little shrug. “I guess we would be even then, wouldn’t we?” she asked.
Darkness had fallen. The only sound in the room was the whir of the fan behind them and a moth beating its wings incessantly against the screen in its never-ending quest for the light. Noah had never understood such a quest better than right now.
“Are you done talking?” he asked.
She shrugged again, then stepped back into his arms. He curled his body around her, and said, “Can I get that in writing?”
She moaned deep in her throat. “Get what in writing? That we’re done talking?”
“No, that you’ll marry me—the sooner the better.”
“Why don’t we just elope so I can’t change my mind?”
He smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
She opened her eyes wide. “I was being sarcastic.”
“I know. You sound like a wife already. Let’s do it. Let’s elope.”
“Now?”
He nodded.
“But how? Who would marry us at this time on a Tuesday night?”
Their gazes met, held. They had the same idea at the same time. “The judge,” they said in unison.
She chortled. “Can you imagine what Ivan the Terrible will say if we wake him up?”
Imagine it? Noah had been waiting ten years for an opportunity like this. “Come on.” He took her hand.
“Wait.” She looked down at her mussed shirt and faded jeans. “I’m only going to get married once, Noah Sullivan. Give me ten minutes to change my clothes and fix my hair.”
“I’ll give you ten minutes if you’ll give me one minute to do this.”
He tipped her face up and kissed her.
Lacey gave herself up to the moment, a moment that lasted far longer than a minute. Somewhere, somehow, while his lips melded with hers, and his breath became her breath, she heard a clock strike midnight. Breathless with wonder after the kiss ended, she fairly floated to the closet and brought out the dress she would wear to become Noah’s bride.
The houses on Jefferson Street were some of the oldest and largest in all of Orchard Hill. Noah parked at the curb and peered at the dark windows of his uncle’s intimidating mansion.
He ran around and opened the door for his bride. He’d waited longer than ten minutes for Lacey to get ready, but when she’d emerged from her bedroom, a vision in that aqua cloud of a dress, her face serene, her eyes shining with anticipation and happiness, it was worth every minute he’d waited.
Hand in hand, they ran up the sidewalk. They couldn’t believe they were doing this. He pressed the doorbell. From somewhere on the second floor, a yappy dog started barking. Noah stood holding Lacey’s hand, fireflies flitting above the rosebushes on either side of the front door. When the barking stopped and no one came, he pressed the doorbell again.
Just as he was about to ring the bell the third time, the foyer light came on. “Who is it?” a grumpy voice asked.
“Why, it’s Noah, dear.” Noah’s plump, gray-haired great-aunt opened the door and blinked in the bright light, a little gray dog on one arm.
“What are you doing here?” the judge groused, blinking owlishly, too.
“We’d like to get married,” Noah said.
“Come to the courthouse in the morning.” He started to slam the door, only to have his efforts thwarted by his wife.
“Don’t you kids mind his fe-fi-fo-fumming. Come in. This is so romantic. Isn’t this romantic, Ivan, dear?”
“What’s romantic about being awakened out of the best sleep I’ve had in weeks?” He peered up at Noah, his comb-over sticking out, his eyes watery behind his smudged wire-rimmed glasses. He gave his great-nephew a look that usually made even the toughest, thick-skinned people fidget. Tonight, Noah held the judge’s gaze unwaveringly. In that moment, something passed between them. And even though the judge heaved a condescending sigh, Noah realized it covered genuine affection. “I guess I’m awake now,” the old man said. “I might as well make an honest man out of you. Maude, bring me my—”
She’d already thought of that, and came bustling back into the room before he’d finished the command. In her hands were a worn leather-bound book and two legal-looking documents, her satiny robe and fluffy dog fluttering behind her.
“I don’t remember the last time some young couple woke us up to marry them. There’s just a dab of paperwork to fill out so it’s all nice and legal,” she said, beaming up at Noah and Lacey. “By the way, I’m Aunt Maude.”
Lacey smiled so warmly even Ivan noticed.
“Why, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” Maude exclaimed, wetting the tip of her pen with her tongue.
She asked them pertinent questions, and filled in the blanks with their answers. And then the judge led them to the living room.
He stood with his back to the stone fireplace. And Noah took Lacey’s hand.
There was no violin music, no candlelight, no flowers, no church filled with guests, or bridesmaids in taffeta and pearls. Lacey had never wanted any of those things. All she’d ever wanted was the love of the man holding her hand.
And Noah did love her. She believed it with her whole heart. She loved him, too, just as much.
As she stood waiting for the civil ceremony to begin, she thought she heard her father’s voice whisper, “Didn’t I tell you you’d find the hidden treasure?”
Feeling almost as light as the air she breathed, she smiled and whispered back, “Thanks, Dad.”
The judge cleared his throat and began. He asked the Do you’s and said the Repeat after me’s. The ceremony lasted five minutes at the most. Noah and Lacey had no wedding rings to exchange. They had something greater. They exchanged promises to love, honor and cher
ish each other as long as they both lived.
“By the power vested in me,” the judge said, “by God and the State of Michigan, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Great-Aunt Maude sniffled. When the judge forgot the best part, she whispered, “You may kiss your bride.”
Noah eased his face closer to Lacey’s. And he kissed his wife for the very first time. Lacey closed her eyes and kissed her husband, too.
She forgot her camera, but Great-Aunt Maude snapped several pictures before they left. Already Lacey knew what she would write at the top when she put them in her scrapbook.
A Bride & Her Groom Before Dawn.
And just like that, the beginning of their brand-new beginning began.
Epilogue
Three days before Christmas…
Noah turned up his wool collar against the morning chill and watched as a few more guests arrived for this morning’s traditional wedding ceremony. Well, he thought, sliding a hand into the pocket of his full-length black coat, this was as traditional as he and Lacey could be.
Having another wedding ceremony with his closest friends and family in attendance had been Noah’s idea. Having it outdoors on a cold winter morning beneath an arbor decorated with pine boughs and holly at the orchard had been Lacey’s.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
The notion to have a second ceremony had occurred to him in the middle of the night a week ago. By the time Lacey had awakened beside him at dawn’s early light, he’d had an entire night to revel in the wonder that he and Lacey were going to have a baby—two, actually.
But of course there would be two! Noah’s three-step plan had had a mind of its own from the start. Why would he have thought that had changed? He loved the way everything had worked out. His genes and Lacey’s had found one another in a petri dish. Now, nine weeks later they were snug as two bugs in a rug inside their mother’s uterus. Noah had lain awake in awe the entire night following their first ultrasound appointment.
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