Adding Up to Marriage

by Karen Templeton

  Yes, indeedy, no worries there.

  Yay.

  Chapter Ten

  “You told her?” Noah said, setting another bundle of shingles on the conveyer belt to haul them onto Eli’s roof, where the laughing, gabbing crew were divvying them out. “For two years,” he huffed, bending over to heft the next case, “you’ve refused to talk about what really happened.” The shingles thumped onto the belt; he reached for the next batch. “Never mind the hell we all went through when we realized Amy’d basically stolen the kids.”

  At the disconcerting blend of curiosity and aggravation darkening his brother’s eyes, Silas said, “You think I should’ve kept my mouth shut?”

  That got a rough laugh. “Hell, no. About damn time you opened up to somebody about it. No, the question is—” another piercing glare “—why now? Or more specifically, why Jewel?”

  For a hundred reasons that would only make sense to Silas. For five hundred more even he couldn’t figure out. However, to admit to his brother that he was falling for the woman, big-time would be the dumbest thing he’d ever done. Strike that: to admit to Jewel he was falling for her, that would be the dumbest thing he’d ever done. If not the dumbest thing any man in history had ever done.

  Granted, when Jewel gave Silas the opening to talk about Amy and the boys a few days ago, all he’d seen—at first—was a way to show her how much he empathized with what she was going through with Aaron. However, reliving the experience had breathed new life into old objections, making him remember why, for so long, he’d been completely uninterested in “getting out there.” What was at stake if he did.

  And that, in turn, had made him understand all too clearly the fear he’d seen in Jewel’s eyes after that kiss.

  “Dunno. Maybe because, after what had happened with her brother, I just thought…it would help.” His shoulders bumped. “No more to it than that. So…house will be all done by Monday, you said?”

  “That’s the plan,” Noah said after a telling pause, then gave Silas one of his no-good grins. “Because I know you cannot wait to get the woman out of your hair, right?”

  Homeboy had no idea.

  Hunched against the sudden stiff breeze rustling the last-gasp leaves, Silas walked back to his Explorer feeling as if he was trying to navigate a tiny sailboat in the middle of a raging typhoon at sea—desperately fighting to stay upright, to fend off the emotional storm raging inside him, around him, while Jewel was waaaay off on the shore, thanking her lucky stars she wasn’t in the boat.

  Oh, sure, she’d responded to that what-was-he-thinking? kiss. And quite nicely, too. No surprise there, considering her whole living-life-to-the-fullest bent. But she’d made it patently clear she wasn’t looking for forever, and why, and Silas wasn’t so much of a fool as to think one kiss was going to magically undo a lifetime of insecurities. Unfortunately, that this woman should be the one to get to him in ways nobody else had been able to—okay, to be fair, what he hadn’t allowed anybody else to do—was the Why, God? part of things. But her not knowing what she had, what she was, her blindness to her own strengths, just made him want to…to…

  He sighed: to take care of her. The one thing she’d made plain she didn’t want, because that was the one thing she didn’t, or couldn’t, trust. Not that she didn’t deserve being done for the way she’d apparently done for others since she was a child. Nor was Silas defining “taking care” in terms of protecting her. Grown women didn’t need protecting. But they did need, and had a right, to be supported. Cherished. Given the space and opportunity to be who and what they needed to be.

  So the irony was that space was the one thing, if not the only thing, he could give her that wouldn’t freak her out. Which left him no choice but to step aside and let her get on with it.

  Even if it killed him.

  “So,” Noah said through Jewel’s cell phone as she navigated Winnie Black’s steep driveway through a bobbing cloud of chickens, “house will be all finished by this afternoon. You can move back anytime.”

  She stopped, idly petting Annabelle, who’d sauntered over to herd her the rest of the way up the hill. A frigid mountain breeze teased the lightweight scarf loosely draped over her short jacket, her thighs through her dark tights. Maybe the denim miniskirt hadn’t been such a bright idea. “Wow. Already?”

  Noah chuckled. “I would’ve figured that news would have you jumping for joy. I lived with my brother, remember. Biggest pain in the butt in four states.”

  “Oh, he’s not that bad,” Jewel said, her seventy percent off cowboy boots loudly clunking against the already weathered wood when she reached the porch.

  “Yeah, well, I’m guessing he doesn’t torment you like he did us.”

  Wouldn’t be too sure about that, Jewel thought, finally ringing the doorbell. “Well. Thanks. It will be good to sleep in my own bed again,” she said, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

  But then, what did her heart know?

  “Hey. Everything all right?”

  A good guy, that Noah. And a good friend, despite his player rep. Donna and Gene Garrett had done a knockout job with all their boys. She briefly thought of Aaron, who’d sent her a miserable, clandestine e-mail on his school computer that morning, pointlessly wishing—

  “Enough,” Jewel said, hugging one arm to her stomach and shivering. “Worrying about my brother, though.”

  “Yeah, Si told me about Aaron. That sucks. How’s he getting on?”

  She sighed. “Not well. His step-mom-to-be’s not exactly his best friend, and his father…” Another shiver tracked up her spine. “Just not a good situation all ’round. And the worst of it is…I can’t even send him cookies or anything because I’m not supposed to be communicating with him!”

  “So give our mom his address, let her send cookies. There’s ways around this crap, Jewel. Always.”

  “I know, but…it would be nice not to have to sneak, like we’re outlaws or something.”

  “Si said you’re really worried about him.”

  Jewel twisted back around, facing the view of the valley sweeping away from the porch, an impressionistic blur of dusty golds and browns and greens through her waterlogged eyes. Si said this, Si said that…every day, he asked about Aaron, his genuine concern shredding her heart, her common sense. Her resolve. Thank God she’d be out of the house soon, before she did something stupid.

  More stupid, anyway.

  “Worried sick,” she finally said. “He got such a raw deal, Noah, it breaks my heart…oh, here’s Winnie. Catch you later.”

  For the next half hour, Jewel somehow managed to immerse herself in the only part of her life that wasn’t making her loopy, after which Winnie insisted on giving her a cup of tea in the Blacks’ large, homey kitchen while Robbie let Seamus climb all over him in the nearby den and tiny Aisling slept peacefully in her swing, oblivious to all the goings-on.

  “First off,” Winnie said, sliding a check across the table along with a cup of English breakfast tea, “we wanted to give you this.”

  Jewel glanced at the check for half Patrice’s fee, only to frown when she noticed Winnie had made it out to Jewel by mistake. She handed it back. “I’m guessing you’re not getting a whole lot of sleep, you need to make this out to Patrice, not me.”

  “Already paid Patrice,” Winnie said, easing herself into the chair opposite, her long fingers cradling her own cup of tea. “That’s for you. And not one word from you, Miss Thing. We can afford it and I know how little you gals make. Besides, you deserve it. We gave Patty a hefty tip, too, if that puts your mind at ease.”

  Blinking, Jewel stared at the check. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about ‘thank you’?” Winnie said, and Jewel nearly spewed tea through her nose. Then she got up to give Winnie a big hug, before sitting again and picking up her purse off the floor beside her chair, glancing at the check one last time before tucking it inside.

  “Thank you. And bless you. Now that Eli’s house is fixed
up, I suppose he’ll be wanting to sell it. So the money’ll help me get a place of my own….”

  And why on earth that should get her all down in the dumps, Jewel had no idea. Especially since she should be over the moon about the unexpected windfall….

  “Okay, what’s up, cutie?” Winnie said, bringing Jewel’s eyes to her bright blue ones. “You are definitely not your normal, perky self. Or is sleep deprivation making me hallucinate?”

  Since Jewel thought of Winnie more as a friend than a client, it wasn’t as if she took offense at the woman’s prying. But her emotions about Aaron and Silas and, well, all of it were so close to the surface. And the last thing she wanted was to sound like She Who Must Not Be Emulated.

  So she smiled and said, “It’s nothing” before the pity demons could get a foothold, and then the baby woke up squawking for her lunch and Jewel mumbled something about having another appointment anyway, which was a big fat lie but a chicken’s gotta do what a chicken’s gotta do. Bawk, bawk.

  So she got outta there by the hair of her chinny-chin-chin—or feathers, whatever—even though she was still kinda shaky when she ducked into the town’s tiny supermarket to pick up something to cook for dinner. Where she neatly dodged Silas’s sister-in-law Tess with her two kids and pregnant glow, partly because all this happiness stuff was wearing on a person, partly because Winnie and Tess were best buds and she could hear the conversation now:

  “Got any idea what’s up with Jewel?”

  “Not really, but I’ve got my theories…”

  Because in a small town people always had theories, even if they were based on air. Then Tess would say something to Eli, probably, who’d undoubtedly blab everything to Silas, since the four brothers were tight as ticks. So, the bawk-bawk-bawking about to split her head in two, Jewel grabbed some pork chops and elbow macaroni, swiped her card through the self-serve dealie and got the heck out of there, picked up Ollie from school and Tad from Mrs. Maple’s, grateful the day was warm enough to send them out back to play in the tree house. Not because she didn’t want them underfoot, but because Ollie had rushed into her arms when she came to get him, reminding her so much of Aaron when she used to pick him up from school she ached.

  Except no sooner had she plunked the pork chops into a casserole dish with a mess of stuff she found in the pantry than the weather did a one-eighty, a sharp wind blowing in a herd of ugly, angry clouds to smother the sun and sending a pair of panting, shivering little boys back inside.

  “S’cold,” Tad said, diving for the sofa and wrapping his arms around a snoring, comatose Doughboy, who didn’t even flinch.

  “C’n we have hot chocolate?” Ollie said, only to roll his eyes practically up underneath his bangs when Jewel raised her brows at him. “May we have hot chocolate?”

  “Only half a cup, ’cause it’s too close to dinner—”

  “Daddy!” the boys yelled in unison, rushing him, and the dog slid off the sofa with an ungainly thump and wriggle-waddled over to join the joyous reunion, and Silas—his arms full of smelly children and even smellier dog—lifted his eyes to Jewel’s and smiled, all honey-I’m-home and whatnot…and the goodness and loneliness and not-even-gonna-try-to-hide-it desire she saw there flat out stole her breath, making her ache all the more. And in a way totally inappropriate with children in the room.

  Jewel was stronger than the ache. She knew that. Knew, too, she could resist the reciprocal longing in Silas’s eyes. Knew it, because she’d done it before, when opportunity alone hadn’t seemed like a good enough reason to get naked with somebody.

  Except the longer he held her gaze, the sweeter and hotter his became and the louder the little imp in her head sniggered, urging her to…to…

  Do something for herself, for once.

  Not that anybody said anything—couldn’t, anyway, with kids in the room. But she guessed Silas was thinking the same thing, that after two years of putting the boys first he yearned to do something for himself, too.

  Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad.

  Especially when he peeled off kids and pooch and said, “Go play, okay?” and they did and he came into the kitchen, leaned against the counter and quietly said, “What’s wrong?” Except not in that irritated tone of voice most people did when what they really meant was “Would you please get over whatever this is so things can get back to normal?” but as if he honest to God wanted to make it better. Or at least try.

  Not that she was about to confess about all the aching, no sirree. Pride and all that. And in any case the moment he asked she realized the crazies in her head had as much to do with her stepbrother as they did Silas. That, she could talk about.

  So she told him about the stealth e-mail, then said, “Oh, God, Silas—he’s so unhappy it breaks my heart. Keith won’t let him hang with his friends at all, or even get rides home with them from school. Then when he’s home, he’s pretty much confined to his room because he and his dad’s fiancée don’t get along at all, but Keith disabled his wireless access on his computer so he can’t even talk to his friends online. He has his phone, but Keith is keeping real close tabs on all his calls and texts. It’s horrible,” she pushed past the lump in her throat. “He’s acting like, like a prison guard, not a father! And I’m not supposed to be crying!”

  “Says who?” Silas said, folding her into his arms, resting his chin atop her head. “Because you think it’s a sign of weakness?” When she nodded against his shirt, he chuckled. “Bull. My mom’s one of the toughest gals I know, she cries at the drop of a hat. So you go right ahead and let it out, not gonna bother me—”

  “Why’s Jewel crying?” she heard Ollie ask, worried. But when she tried to pull away, Silas held fast.

  “She’s just having a sad,” Silas said over her head, and then both little boys wrapped their arms around her legs and hugged her, too. Tad even patted her butt—since he couldn’t really reach her back—and told her it would be okay, making her softly laugh…making her yearn for far more than…the other thing.

  So it was with profound relief that, right before she served dinner, Patrice called—Abby Iglesias’s water had broken ten days early. With any luck, she thought as she kissed the boys goodnight, assiduously avoiding eye contact with their father, it would be hours and hours before the baby came and Silas would have been asleep for hours and hours by the time she got back.

  Except, when she let her still-andrenalized self into the house sometime after two in the morning, the flickering light from the TV pulled her into the living room. His hands laced behind his head, Silas sat on the sofa in his robe and PJ bottoms, watching a movie. Despite the chill in the house, the robe gapped on top, partially exposing his chest and provoking that weird craving-something-but-no-idea-what feeling in the center of Jewel’s.

  Except she knew darn well what.

  In theory, she could have returned to Eli’s. In fact, if she hadn’t gone out on that delivery, she would’ve probably hauled her stuff back there tonight. But she had, so she hadn’t, so here she was.

  Having cravings.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” she whispered, a small shiver tracking up her spine.

  Still focused on the screen, Silas shrugged. “Apparently not.”

  “Want anything?”

  Finally, his eyes shifted to hers. “You have no idea.”

  The shiver turned to a rush of hoo-Mama heat over her face, her chest. “I take it we’re not talking hot chocolate and toast.”

  His gaze locked in hers, he shook his head, then released a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “And you probably are.”

  She took a deep breath, then another, knowing the next move was hers. That Silas was far too much of a gentleman to come right out and ask. “Just so you know? I’m on the Pill.”

  Loooong silence. “You sure?”

  “That I’m on the Pill—?”

  “No,” Silas said with another laugh. “About wanting—”

  “To sleep with you? Yes.”

  His head angled
slightly, his gaze so steady she half wondered if she’d misread him. “Why?”

  “Because I think…it would be…fun.” And because it might be nice to do this with somebody I actually liked, for a change.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Me, too. Unless…you’re too tired…?”

  Ohmi-freaking-gosh. This was really happening.

  “Are you kidding? I got to catch another baby, I’m so wired I could send signals to Mars.”

  “Okay.” Then he smiled. “So…wanna make out?”

  Jewel clamped her hand over her mouth to smother her laugh, lowering it to whisper, “What is this, high school?”

  “Except I never made out in high school.”

  “Seriously? Never?”

  “If you’d seen me in high school, you’d understand.”

  “That’s so sad,” she said, and he chuckled, all low and sexy and full of promise; and then she said, “you know, if you’d chuckled like that back then, you’d’ve had to fight ’em off with sticks,” and he laughed again and patted the space beside him.

  “Come here,” he murmured, setting his glasses on the end table, and she went thinking…she could handle this, right?

  And the imp’s sniggers morphed into full-out guffaws.

  Ignoring it—them, whatever—Jewel ditched her own glasses, her boots, her qualms, sinking into the deep cushions with a sigh when Silas eased her back into the sofa, shielding her with all that steady, quiet strength as their mouths met in a kiss that was serious flame-to-pilot-light time. Whoosh.

  Almost startled, she pulled back only to realize his crooked, barely visible smile in the dim light, the Hah! look in his eyes was far more dangerous than his mouth.

  Or so she told herself as she skimmed her fingers through his hair and kissed him again.