“It was my pleasure, believe me,” Mack said. “This was really a great evening.” He paused. “I’ll remember everything that happened here tonight.”
Heather’s head snapped around and she looked at Mack, but before she could speak, the twins returned, clad in matching pink cotton nightgowns.
“That was quick,” Heather said, getting to her feet. “Are you sure those teeth got a good brushing?”
“Yep,” Melissa said, then opened her mouth wide to show her mother.
“Dazzling,” Heather said. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Come on, Uncle Mack,” Emma said, taking one of his hands.
In the small bedroom Mack glanced quickly around, frowning as he saw the cramped quarters the girls shared. There were twin beds, each set against a wall; a battered dresser between them. Mack’s jaw tightened when he saw a framed photograph, on top of the dresser.
No, he wasn’t going to comment on the fact that that must be a picture of his half brother, Frank, the twins’ father, the man who had caused such hardship and heartbreak in Heather’s life. Frank didn’t deserve to have his name mentioned during this night that belonged to Heather, Melissa, Emma and Mack.
He continued his perusal of the room and saw the meager remaining space along the wall that contained toys and books on narrow shelves constructed of cinder blocks and boards that had been painted with white enamel. On the center of the top shelf was a pale pink piggy bank about the size of a football.
“This must be the dream piggy,” Mack said, giving it a friendly pat.
“Yep,” Melissa said. “That’s it.”
“You need to get a—” Emma started.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Heather said. “Don’t start with the business of how Uncle Mack needs a dream, Emma. It’s bedtime. Prayers, please, ladies.”
The girls got into bed, laid down, then folded their hands.
“God bless Mommy,” they said in unison, “and my sister, and all the people I love. Amen.”
“That means Uncle Mack too, please, God,” Emma said. “Amen, again.”
A sudden tightness gripped Mack’s throat. These little girls sure knew how to throw a powerful emotional punch.
“Thank you,” he said, then cleared his throat.
Blankets were straightened by Heather and Mack, hugs and kisses were exchanged, then the light was turned out.
“Good night,” Heather said. “I love you to pieces. See you in the morning.”
“’Night,” Melissa said.
“’Night,” Emma echoed. “Love you.”
Back in the living room, Heather began to straighten the new clothes, mumbling something about not wanting to have to iron everything before the girls could wear them. Mack settled back onto his spot on the end of the sofa and watched her, not speaking.
“There,” Heather said finally. “That’s better.”
“Are you finished avoiding looking at me?” Mack said quietly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Heather. I’m not going to pounce on you.”
Heather sighed, then crossed the room to sit in the rocking chair.
“I know that,” she said, meeting Mack’s gaze. “You wouldn’t attempt to…to take anything from me that I wasn’t willing to give. Would you, Mack?”
“No, I wouldn’t, and I’m relieved that you realize that.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, “but it puts a tremendous burden on me. I can come to you right now, make it clear that I want you to kiss me, or I can tell you never to touch me again while you’re visiting us.”
Mack nodded. “That’s true. It’s up to you. I know where I stand on the issue, but I’m not going to pressure you in any way. I’m sorry that you feel uncomfortable, burdened, as you say, by…this. Believe me, that wasn’t my intention. I was just being completely honest with you and…” He paused. “I think that’s enough said on the subject for now. When would you like to go out to dinner in your princess dress?”
“You really don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I want to. Don’t you?”
“Well, I…yes, of course, I do,” Heather said. “It has been years since I’ve gone out to a fancy restaurant in a pretty dress. In fact, if I’ve ever done that, I don’t remember. I’ll feel like Cinderella for a night.”
“Good.” Mack nodded. “When?”
“There’s a teenage girl on the street who baby-sits,” Heather said, “but it shouldn’t be on a school night because I’d really be like Cinderella, watching the clock to be certain I didn’t get back too late for her bedtime.”
“Fair enough,” Mack said. “Why don’t you see if she’s free Friday night? I’ll pay her whatever she charges. Let me know when it’s set so I can make a reservation at a restaurant fit for a princess.”
Heather leaned her head back on the high top of the rocker and stared at the ceiling.
“A princess,” she said softly. “And Cinderella. Fairy-tale characters. That’s who I’ll be on that night. A make-believe person, someone I’m pretending to be in my beautiful dress, dining at an exclusive restaurant in the company of a handsome man.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, Heather.”
She lifted her head again and looked at him. “No, there isn’t, as long as I don’t forget who I really am during those hours.”
“I doubt seriously that Cinderella was thinking about the hearth she had to clean at home while she was dancing with the prince at the ball,” Mack said. “And why should she? It was her night. Her memories to keep.”
“Well, yes, that’s true.”
“Do you think you could do that when we go out?” Mack said. “Just be Cinderella at the ball? No hearths to clean, no income tax returns to prepare, no household budget to worry about?”
Heather smiled. “That sounds heavenly. A few hours with no responsibilities, nothing on my mind except having a lovely time.”
“There you go,” Mack said, matching her smile. “Can you do it?”
“I’m certainly going to give it my best shot,” she said, laughing. “I’d be crazy not to.”
“Good.” Mack got to his feet. “I’d better be on my way. Where did my camera end up?”
Heather stood. “I think it’s under all those pretty clothes on the sofa.”
Mack retrieved his camera and went to the door with Heather following behind him.
“May I see you tomorrow?” he said, turning to look at her.
“I have to work all day,” Heather said. “The girls will be with Buzzy and his mother, Susie. It’s not my idea of a relaxing Sunday, but at this time of year I have no choice but to glue myself to my computer every spare minute I can find.”
Mack nodded. “I see.”
“Why don’t you come for dinner on Monday? Are you in the mood for a home-cooked meal?”
“Sold,” Mack said, smiling.
“Five o’clock?” Heather said. “The girls are used to eating early.”
“I’ll be here.” Mack paused. “Well, it was a great evening. I really enjoyed it. Every minute.”
“Thank you again for the…”
“Shh,” he said, placing one fingertip gently on her lips. “No more thank-yous. Let’s just say that a good time was had by all, and leave it at that.”
“All right.”
“So, good night, Heather.”
“Yes. Good night, Mack.” Heather sighed. “Oh, I’m such a muddled mess. Part of me says I should shoo you out that door, and another part wants you to kiss me before you go. I could stand here for twenty minutes and probably not be able to reach a decision because it’s all so new, so confusing.”
“How about a compromise?” Mack hung the strap to the camera on the doorknob, then took a step forward and cradled Heather’s face in his hands. “We’ll share a…a quick, little kiss. A short, good-night type of kiss. There. How’s that?”
“That sounds like a feasible solution to my dilemma,” Heather said softly.
Mack looked directly into Heather’s eyes for a
long, heart-stopping moment, then lowered his head and claimed her lips with his own.
The kiss was an explosion of senses, of heat that rocketed throughout them instantly. Heather encircled Mack’s neck with her arms, being careful to not bump his left shoulder as she nestled against him, savoring his taste and aroma, the steely strength of his body.
Mack raised his head a fraction of an inch to take a rough breath, then slanted his mouth in the opposite direction, capturing Heather’s lips once again.
The kiss went on and on, and desires soared to a fever pitch of want and need.
Enough, Marshall, Mack’s mind whispered, then increased in volume. He was losing his grip on control, was running the risk of frightening Heather, of pushing her into a place where she might very well tell him to never touch her again. He had to stop kissing her now. Right now.
Mack broke the kiss and gripped Heather’s shoulders, easing her slowly away from his aroused body. She blinked, as though coming out of a trance, then stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her.
“So much for compromise,” she said, then took a shuddering breath. “That was definitely not a quick, little kiss.”
Mack dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I…”
“Oh, no, Mack, don’t apologize,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly beating you off with a stick. I was an equal partner in…no, I’m not going to talk it to death. I’m just going to say good night now.”
“Good night, Heather,” Mack said. He retrieved his camera and opened the door. “I’ll see you Monday night. Five o’clock sharp.”
Heather nodded, then Mack left the house, closing the door behind him with a click. Outside he stopped with his back to the door, then stiffened as he heard the lock being snapped into place, the sound seeming to be magnified tenfold.
Locked out, he thought, starting forward slowly. Locked out of that shabby little house that was filled to overflowing with warmth and laughter. Locked out, until the next time he was allowed to enter and bask in what was within those walls.
Locked out of Heather’s heart, as well?
When Mack reached his vehicle that was parked at the curb, he turned and looked back at the house just as the lights went out inside.
A chill swept through him and he frowned in self-disgust. Locked out of Heather’s heart? he mentally repeated. Man, that was corny. He didn’t want the key to Heather Marshall’s heart, for cripe’s sake. He didn’t want her to fall in love with him any more than he intended to fall in love with her. That would lead to guaranteed heartbreak when he left Tucson.
No, love—falling in love—wasn’t part of his plan. Not even close. He desired Heather more than any woman he’d ever known. And she desired him, too. He knew she did.
Sure, making love was risky. But they were aware of those risks now, would each hold fast to the keys to their hearts, and not allow the other to take possession.
No one would get hurt.
Chapter Seven
The next day Mack was able to find a photography shop that was open and willing to rent him darkroom time. He developed the pictures he’d taken the previous night at Heather’s, smiling as he clipped the wet photos on the line strung across the small room.
Melissa and Emma, he thought, looking at the prints, were definitely happy little girls. He’d captured the pure joy on their faces as they saw each new article of clothing that he had bought them. The picture of Melissa hugging her baseball shirt was fantastic, would tug at the heart of anyone who saw it.
Mack switched his attention to the developing tray and his heart began to thunder as the photograph came slowly into view. It was Heather. Heather holding the princess dress. Heather with tears shimmering in her eyes and a soft smile on her face.
Look at her, Mack thought as he clipped the picture on the line. She was so beautiful, the emotions radiating from her lovely face so real and honest.
He had caused Heather to have that expression. He had caused her dark eyes to glisten with tears of wonder and awe over the dress that was fit for a princess to wear. He had made Heather happy, and he felt about ten feet tall.
Still staring at the photograph, Mack allowed the memories of holding and kissing Heather to fill his mind. He felt the heat of desire begin to coil deep within him and welcomed it, wanted to relive every moment of what he had shared with Heather Marshall.
This was what it would be like when he left Tucson, he thought suddenly, a frown replacing his smile. He’d replay memories of Heather in his mind, would look at her photograph, attempt to recall the exact sound of her laughter, the sweet taste of her lips as he kissed her, her aroma of soap and flower-scented shampoo.
That was all he would have…memories.
Damn it, he knew that, had in fact made a sincere attempt to convince Heather that the memories they would each possess would be enough, would be worth taking the risk.
So why was he suddenly feeling so chillingly stark and empty, and very, very lonely, as he envisioned the future? Hell, he didn’t know, but he’d better figure it out fast, because this dark mood was unsettling, to say the least.
Mack frowned as he began to clean up from the processing of his film.
In the past, he mused, whenever he was developing his photographs, his entire focus was on what he had captured on film. Even when he’d processed the rolls of film from the time he’d been shot, he hadn’t dwelled on what had happened to him, he had centered his attention on what he was seeing, what pictures might have potential to be published.
But today? The pictures of Heather and the twins had brought the trio right into that small room with him as though they were actually standing there watching him.
Why? He didn’t know. Did it make sense? No. Was it driving him nuts? Definitely.
“Get a grip, Marshall,” he said out loud. “Think it through.”
Okay, wait. A thought was forming in his mind. Yes, there it was. Sure. The reason he’d felt the nearly tangible presence of Heather and the girls in the dark room was that, unlike the people in the thousands of pictures he’d taken over the years, he knew Heather and the twins. They were more than just faces in a photograph; they were living, breathing human beings whom he interacted with beyond the lens of his camera.
“Bingo,” Mack said, nodding decisively. “That’s it. I’m not crazy, after all.”
He began to slide the now-dry photographs into individual clear-plastic page covers, which he placed in a leather-bound notebook.
As far as the future looking bleak because of having only memories of Heather, that was becoming understandable, too. At the moment, he didn’t have to settle for just memories. That was why they seemed totally inadequate.
But once he left Tucson and returned to his usual busy routine, the memories would take on greater significance.
“Double bingo,” he said. “Damn, you’re good, Marshall. You’ve got it all figured out.”
After one last check of the room, Mack opened the door and left, enjoying his renewed sense of well-being.
That night, for the first time in his life, Mack dreamed about his father. In the dream, the man was so tall he towered over Mack, who seemed to be no more than inches high. His father’s voice was like thunder, causing Mack to curl into a ball in an attempt to escape the threatening noise as his father loomed over him.
“You better listen to me, boy,” his father bellowed. “We’re not like other people, and don’t you forget it. We can’t be tethered, not us Marshalls. We have to be free in order to live.
“Don’t fool yourself into thinking you can have roots, a family, a woman to love until the day you die. That’s not who we are.
“Are you listening to me, boy? If a woman tries to get her claws into you and keep you shackled, you hightail out of there. You’re just like me. We have to be free and on the move. You’ll live your life alone. Understand, boy? Alone…alone…alone—”
Mack sat bolt upright on the bed, immediately groaning from the pain that sho
t through his shoulder and down his arm from the sudden, rough movement.
He was drenched in sweat and his hands trembled as he dragged them down his face. He took a shuddering breath, then left the bed to get a pill for the hot pain that was beginning to consume his entire body.
When he returned to the bed, he willed himself to relax, to let the pill do its job so he could go back to sleep.
Alone…alone…alone, his mind echoed. Damn it, why had he had that dream? From the time he was in his early teens and could comprehend what his father continually harped about, he’d understood the message, accepted it, and had lived his life accordingly.
He had inherited a wanderlust gene from his father, and could not, would not, stay in one place for any length of time. He wasn’t meant to have roots, a home, a wife and family, because he was his father’s son.
He was alone, and he would always be alone.
The vivid image of a smiling Heather flitted across his mental vision, then settled in crystal clarity. She appeared so real, it was as though he could reach out and touch the soft skin of her cheek, slide his thumb over her lush lips.
But then the image began to fade, Heather’s smile changed to a frown, then tears filled her eyes.
“No, Heather, wait,” Mack said, lifting his right hand. “Please, don’t go. Heather? Don’t leave me alone and lonely and…” He dropped his arm heavily onto the bed and closed his eyes.
What was the matter with him? Mack thought, a chill sweeping through him. It was the pill. The drugs were really packing a punch this time.
He needed to just blank his mind and try to sleep, forget the dream, forget the tears that had shimmered in Heather’s eyes, forget how empty and lonely he’d felt as she’d begun to disappear from his view.
Mack stared into the darkness and waited for sleep to take him into the oblivion he yearned for. But the first colorful streaks of dawn were lighting the sky before he finally slept.
During what Heather considered her lunch hour on Monday, she dashed to K mart and purchased a strapless bra and a pair of panty hose.
Her next stop was the used-clothing store where she always shopped, a smile of relief forming on her lips when she found a pair of evening sandals with tiny straps and a two-inch heel.
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