by Julia London
“We aren’t through yet.”
Finn kissed Macy possessively, sending a thrill through her.
“Finn, I—”
“Not this time, Macy. I’m going to do what I should have done the moment I got home and show you just how much I missed you, how much you mean to me.”
Macy’s blood raced, making her so weak with longing that she was powerless to do anything to stop him.
“Look at me,” he quietly commanded her. “I don’t have much that means anything to me anymore. Only you.”
Macy leaned back and braced her hands against the truck. She closed her eyes.
Acclaim for the dazzlingly romantic novels of Julia London
“London’s masterful ability to bring characters to life makes this romance entirely absorbing.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A depth of emotion that takes the breath away.”
—Romantic Times
Also by Julia London
Highland Scandal
The Book of Scandal
The Perils of Pursuing a Prince
The Dangers of Deceiving a Viscount
The Hazards of Hunting a Duke
Highlander in Love
Highlander in Disguise
Highlander Unbound
“The Merchant’s Gift”
in The School for Heiresses anthology
“Snowy Night with a Highlander”
in Snowy Night with a Stranger anthology
Guiding Light: Jonathan’s Story
with Alina Adams
Pocket Star Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Dinah Dinwiddie
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ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-6417-4
ISBN-10: 1-4391-6417-7
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In memory of a pair of yellow labs who enriched my life beyond measure for many years. I miss them very much. I have two wishes: That they are in a better place, and that they are not forgotten.
Maude
January 15, 1995–February 10, 2008
Hugo
January 15, 1995–January 11, 2009
SUMMER
of TWO
WISHES
Contents
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1
The first time two U.S. Army Casualty Notification Officers came looking for Macy, it was to tell her that her husband Finn had died in Afghanistan.
Suicide bomber, the taller officer said. Nothing left but a half-burned dog tag.
Macy didn’t remember much after that, except that she had been getting groceries out of the car when they’d arrived, and the taller officer’s eyes were the exact shade of the head of iceberg lettuce that had rolled away when she’d dropped the bag.
Three years later, when the third Casualty Notification Officer came to see Macy, she would remember Finn’s black lab, Milo, racing in between the tables they’d set up on the lawn, pausing to shake the river water from his coat and spraying the pristine white linen tablecloths. She’d remember thinking, Don’t panic, don’t panic, over and over again as she stared at those dirty brown spots on the tablecloths.
Everything else would be a blur.
The officer found Macy at her Aunt Laru’s limestone ranch house just outside of Cedar Springs, in the Texas Hill Country west of Austin. It was a beautiful spread, forty acres of rolling hills covered in live oaks, cedar, and blooming cactus on the banks of the Pedernales River.
Laru Friedenberg had married and divorced three times before the age of forty-five. The marriages had left her a little bit jaded and a little bit wealthy, and when Laru had learned Macy was hosting a luncheon, she’d insisted that Macy host it at her house. The luncheon was a fundraiser to benefit a nonprofit organization, Project Lifeline. Macy and a friend had founded the charity to help families of soldiers who’d been wounded or killed with financial aid or services. The organization was a success thus far, and Laru was eager to help.
“I didn’t put up with Randy King for six years to sit and look at this view by myself,” Laru had said with a flip of her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Have the luncheon here, Macy. A pretty setting and plenty of liquor will open up those wallets faster than the devil in a white suit.”
As it was June and not yet miserably hot, Macy had decided to have it on the grassy riverbank and had set up three large round tables beneath the twisted limbs of the live oaks. She’d dressed the tables in linen, littered them with rose petals and rose centerpieces, and set them with fine china from Laru’s second marriage. She’d enlisted Laru to make batches of her signature white and red sangria, and had food catered from Twin Sisters, which specialized in “discriminating palates.”
“If by discriminating they refer to gals who won’t pass over a single morsel that isn’t nailed down, then I think we’ve got the right caterer,” Laru had quipped.
The day was overcast and a slight breeze was coming up off the river. An hour before the guests were due to arrive, Laru insisted on tightening the halter of the pink sundress Macy had found on sale for the occasion. “You look so cute!” she said at last, her hands on her waist. “Very hostessy. Has Wyatt seen you in that?”
“Not yet,” Macy said as she donned the pearl earrings and necklace he’d given her. He was always giving her gifts: Pearls. An iPhone. A boat.
“Best make sure he doesn’t see you until after the luncheon. He’s likely to tear it right off your body.”
“Laru!” Macy said with a laugh.
“What?” Laru asked innocently. “It’s no secret that every time that man looks at you his eyes get as shiny as new pennies.”
“Well, he’s not invited. It’s ladies only. Rich ladies, and as we both know, that’s not his type,” Macy said, pointing at herself and making Laru laugh. “Besides, he’s in San Antonio for a couple of days.”
Satisfied with her appearance, Macy walked outside to check on everything once more. Ernesto, Laru’s handyman, was out front, sweeping the flagstone porch. “If you see a bunch of women in fancy hats, send them
on around, will you?” she asked, indicating the walkway around the side of the house. “Gracias!”
Macy followed the path around the corner of the house. Laru was right—the setting was truly lovely, and her tables looked perfect. But as Macy stood there admiring her work, Milo shot past.
“Hey,” Macy muttered. Milo was not the sort of dog to run. Generally, he was much happier lying in the shade. But when he emerged from between the tables, she saw that he had a grungy rope toy in his mouth. Out from beneath another table shot a beagle in hot pursuit.
“Hey!” Macy shouted as Milo headed for the river. “Milo, no!” she cried. But Milo dove heedlessly into the river, paddled around, then climbed up on the bank, taunted the beagle with his toy, and dashed up to the tables, where he paused to shake the water off his coat.
“No!” Macy cried again.
The beagle barked, and Milo was off again.
“Macy Clark?”
Startled by the sound of a male voice, Macy whirled around and came face-to-face with an army officer in full dress uniform. Her heart skipped a beat. What was he doing here? Finn was dead. Dead for three long, miserable years. Three years in which Macy woke up every morning to face the heartache of his absence all over again, missing her sun and moon, realizing that it wasn’t a bad dream, that he wasn’t going to come through the door with his tanned arms and his straw hat pulled low over his eyes, grinning like he wanted her with syrup for breakfast.
“Beg your pardon, ma’am—I am Lieutenant Colonel Dan Freeman with the United States Army,” he said. The bags under his eyes made him look like a sad old hound dog. “I need to speak with you, please.”
“Me?” she asked as Milo and the beagle dashed in between them. “Is it the fund-raiser?” she said, thinking wildly that perhaps the army didn’t approve. “It’s the fund-raiser, isn’t it?”
“The fund-raiser?”
“Project Lifeline,” she said. “My friend Samantha and I—we wanted to help the families of fallen soldiers because they really need more than just the death gratuity. Not that the gratuity isn’t generous. It is! But there is all this…this emotional stuff that money can’t fix. So we started Project Lifeline. That’s okay, isn’t it? Surely that’s okay.”
What was she saying? She didn’t need the army’s permission! Macy was rambling, which wasn’t like her at all, but there was something about the officer’s demeanor, his blank look, that made her anxious. “You’ve never heard of us, have you?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
Macy swallowed down a very bad feeling.
A barking dog and the sound of a car’s wheels crunching on the gravel drive in front filtered into her consciousness. Someone shouted, “Bad dog!”
“What is it?” Macy asked softly. “What has happened?”
“Would you like to sit down?” he asked.
Now Macy’s belly swooned. “Sir…I am about to host a fund-raiser.”
“It can’t wait, ma’am,” he said, and smiled. “Maybe we can sit at one of those tables.”
“How did you find me?” she asked, ignoring his gesture toward her tables.
“Your neighbor told me you were here and was kind enough to give me directions.”
“Okay,” she said resolutely, despite the rubbery feeling in her legs. “Okay, Lieutenant Colonel Freeman, you can’t tell me anything worse than what the army has already told me, right? So please, whatever it is, just say it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lieutenant Colonel Freeman said. He kept his hound-dog eyes steady on her as he reached into his coat pocket, took out an envelope, and held it out to her.
Her heart pounding, Macy stared at it. She didn’t want to touch that envelope. It was impossible that it could contain anything that had to do with her—Finn is dead! He’s dead, he’s dead! The officer shifted slightly, moving the envelope closer to her, and Macy reluctantly took it. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly open it; the envelope fluttered to the ground as she unfolded the letter.
“Ma’am, if I may,” the officer said. “The secretary of defense regrets to inform you that we have made a gross error in concluding Sergeant Finn Lockhart was killed in action because he has indeed been found alive. On June eighteen, at oh two hundred hours…”
Macy never heard the rest of what he said. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, and everything began to swirl around her. The last thing Macy saw was Lt. Colonel Dan Freeman lurching forward to catch her as she melted.
2
Everything after that was a chaotic blur. There were colorful hats bobbing around her, ladies tittering at the news—Macy Clark’s husband is alive!
Macy clung to Laru. In the chaos, she couldn’t seem to grasp that it was real. They’d said he was dead. The army had rolled right up to her house in their official car, with their official officers, with their official news, and their official death gratuity, as if they were tipping her for having given her husband’s life to the war. They’d told her he was dead while Finn’s horses grazed in the pasture beside them, while Milo sniffed at the officers’ shoes. They’d said he was dead. It was so final; he was dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.
And now, three years later, this man was telling her Finn was alive. Alive. The love of her life, alive! Not dead. Not in heaven as the pastor had assured her. Alive!
Macy wanted to know where Finn was; when could she see him; was he hurt; why, if he’d been rescued on the eighteenth, was she only hearing about it four days later; where had he been for three years; when could she see him, when could she see him, when could she see him?
It was a dream. It had to be a dream. How could it be real? After three years of mourning, how could it be real?
Someone thrust a glass of sangria into her hand. Macy put it down. Lt. Colonel Dan Freeman explained they waited to contact her until they verified Finn’s identity. He said Finn had been held captive by the Taliban (to which there was a loud and collective gasp) and had escaped. He said Finn was on his way to Germany, where he would undergo a complete physical evaluation and intelligence debriefing before returning to the States. He said Macy could speak to Finn as soon as he reached the air force base in Germany.
“Dear God, what will Wyatt Clark say to all this?” Mrs. Corley asked of no one in particular.
Macy had been so absorbed with the news that Finn, her Finn, was alive, not dead, not gone, that she’d momentarily forgotten about Wyatt. “Does he know?” she asked Lieutenant Colonel Freeman. “Does Finn know about my husband?”
“Ma’am, we think those matters are best left to the family, but we have trained personnel if you’d like for the army to tell him—”
“No,” she said quickly. “No, no, I’ll tell him.”
“There are some things you should know, Mrs. Clark,” Lieutenant Colonel Freeman said. “Some laws you should be aware of.”
Some laws. What laws? Why did she need laws? She didn’t need anything but to see Finn. When could she see him?
There were laws, her mother told her later; she’d already looked into it.
It was just like her mother to take charge right away. Jillian Harper, Esquire, was the toughest civil litigator in the county, and if you didn’t know that, she’d be sure to fill you in. She was tough, all right, and had even proven to be too tough for Macy’s dad.
Jillian and Bobby had met in high school—Jillian was in drama club and on the student council, and Bobby was on the basketball team. Macy and her sister Emma often wondered what Jillian and Bobby had seen in each other, because it was all gone by the time they came along. Their parents fought and bickered their way through their children’s early years. Bobby Harper was a land developer. He had some good years and some bad years. In the bad years, Jillian told him how she’d seen this coming and how he was going to have to do things differently. In the good years, Bobby believed money should be spent and he didn’t see anything wrong with rewarding himself with a new car, or a family trip to Spain. He argued there was
plenty of time to save for college.
There was never any peace in the Harper house and the Harpers divorced when Macy was twelve and Emma was ten. Macy and Emma didn’t see much of their father after that except at birthdays and the holiday visitations spelled out in the divorce papers. Their father always seemed to have more important things to do than spend time with them. Their mother told them he was too selfish. Their father told them she was too hard.
Bobby had moved to Dallas a few years ago and Macy didn’t hear from him much, except when he came back to Cedar Springs to see friends and family. Even then, their meetings were brief and superficial. He usually dragged them along to some dinner or party…someplace he didn’t have to really talk to them.
In his absence, Macy’s mother tried to run her and Emma’s lives.
It seemed like her mother had hardly absorbed the news that Finn was alive before she’d called a friend who specialized in family law. Then she’d come to Laru’s, fearing that Macy would not be able to drive after hearing such stunning news.
“You need to understand what this all means,” her mother said as she drove Macy home.
“Mom,” Macy said, closing her eyes, “can we…can we just celebrate the fact that Finn is alive? That’s the only thing I care about at the moment. Can you believe it? After all this time, he’s alive!”
“Yes, it’s…it’s unreal,” Jillian said. “But the moment Wyatt gets wind of it, he’ll want to know what his legal rights are. It comes down to this, Macy. You have what is called a putative marriage, which means essentially that you entered your marriage believing the first one was dissolved by death. Now, as your first marriage was not dissolved by death or appropriate legal action, your second marriage is essentially void. Practically speaking, that means you must file suit to declare your current marriage void. However, if you want to stay with Wyatt, then you must file suit to divorce Finn. When the divorce is granted, your marriage to Wyatt is automatically validated as long as you continue to live as man and wife and represent yourself as such.”