by Sherry Lewis
A rush of affection swept through him for this woman who showed such concern for his children. He stood uncertainly and rounded the island. Some logical part of his brain warned him to think, but he was tired of thinking, and so very tired of fighting life’s battles alone.
He cupped her face in his hands and leaned in close, half expecting her to pull away but praying she wouldn’t. He brushed her lips once. Twice. Then covered them with his and poured everything he was feeling into the moment between them.
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, the rapid rise and fall and the unsteady breaths that spoke of her own emotions. He’d never been good at speaking his heart. He was much better at showing what he felt. But he could put everything he was feeling into one word, and he whispered it softly as he ended the kiss and pulled away slightly so he could look into her eyes.
“Stay.”
Her eyes were closed, but they flew open at the sound of his voice and searched his for an explanation.
“Stay here for a while,” he said hoarsely. And then, because she still looked confused, he added, “Stay, even if you find out what happened with your mom and dad tomorrow. Stay for Thanksgiving. Share Christmas with us. Spend New Year’s Eve with me. Maybe with enough time, you and I can figure this thing out.”
When she didn’t immediately respond, he made himself be even more honest. “I never expected to feel something like this so soon after Heather. I don’t want you to leave. Stay, and give us a chance to see where things go.”
She put her hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she splayed her fingers and studied them as if she wanted to memorize the way they looked there. Warmth spiraled through him from those places where her skin made contact with his, and he wished they were at the cabin, alone, instead of standing in his kitchen, about to be descended upon by the kids he could hear stirring overhead.
“It would also give us a chance to confuse your kids more than they already are,” she argued reasonably. “And to hurt them all over again when I leave.”
“There’s no law that says you have to leave at all,” Beau reminded her. “Serenity’s a good place to live. Good people. Beautiful scenery.
“And zero opportunity,” she said with a little shake of her head. “I haven’t worked in nearly six weeks, and I can’t count on Mom’s jewelry to get me by.”
“So get a job here.”
She smiled softly, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes. She pulled her hands away and put some distance between them as the kids began to come down the stairs. “I don’t want a job, Beau. I want a career.”
“And you can’t have one here?”
“Where? At the FoodWay? It’s a nice town, and most of the people are wonderful, but it’s not exactly a hub of industry. There’s no call for a graphic-design artist here, and the market’s so glutted I can’t hope to get anywhere on my own. I need to be out there where the action is.”
“Serenity’s not the end of the world.”
“I know that, but I’m just not interested in waiting tables or checking groceries.”
He swallowed his disappointment and shoved aside the flicker of irritation at her attitude toward the town he loved. Much as he wanted to argue with her, she was right. Serenity was small and out of the way. Too far from anywhere to have any allure for someone like Molly.
“What about the jewelry?”
“It’s a nice hobby. It might even add to my income a little. But it’s never going to support me.”
He turned away and tried to get his disappointment under control. Her argument was logical. It made perfect sense. But it didn’t change the way he felt. He just had no idea how he’d ever convince her to stay when he had nothing to offer but himself.
A LITTLE AFTER noon the next day, Molly paced the foyer of the Chicken Inn as she waited for Elaine to arrive. She had a million things to share with her friend, beginning with the simple pair of earrings she’d made before she left the cabin and ending with Beau’s unexpected request last night.
In spite of what she’d told him, she’d spent hours toying with the idea of staying. Beau’s sense of humor delighted her. His obvious love for his children, his never-ending service to the city and that streak of self-doubt that she glimpsed occasionally all worked together to create an incredible man who captivated her at every turn.
Could she? Should she? The temptation was almost too strong to resist.
Elaine arrived just a few minutes later, and almost immediately the hostess led them to a table. There were a few other customers at tables scattered around the dining area, but no one sat at the neighboring tables, and Molly was glad for the chance to talk freely.
Elaine draped her napkin across her lap and smoothed it thoughtfully, then, tilting her head, she studied Molly and said, “You look happy. Things are going well?”
“Very well.” Molly pulled the small box holding the earrings from her purse and handed it over for Elaine’s inspection. “What do you think? Not bad for a first effort, huh?”
After studying the earrings carefully for a moment, Elaine agreed. “Not bad at all. You made these?”
“I did.” The waitress arrived with salads, and Molly unrolled the napkin holding her silverware. “Beau thinks I can make a living at this, but I’m still not sure. Still, it’s a nice hobby, and I actually felt kind of connected to my mom when I was making those.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Elaine said, closing the box and passing it back to Molly. “It would be really nice if this worked into a little business for you. My mom always said that Ruby Lane made the best jewelry around.” Elaine speared her salad with her fork, but didn’t eat. “Have you found out anything more about her accident?”
“Just what I told you the other day on the phone. I know I need to keep digging, but Clay’s news really rocked me. It’s going to take a while to come to terms with it, I guess.”
“So how long will you be staying?”
“I don’t know. A while.”
Elaine turned her attention to her salad. “And how are things with Beau?”
Molly grinned like a teenager. “Things with Beau are just fine. He’s really great, isn’t he?”
“He always has been.” Elaine worked the salt and pepper grinders over her salad, then settled them back in place slowly and deliberately. “He was pretty torn up when Heather left, you know.”
“I’m sure he was.” Molly realized that sounded almost patronizing and checked herself. “I know he was. There are times even now when you can tell how much it hurt him.” She wondered if Elaine knew the truth about why Heather left, but she wasn’t going to betray Beau’s confidence. “The kids have had a rough time, too, but I think Brianne is actually starting to like me, and Nicky’s just a great kid.”
“Yeah, he is.” Elaine looked up at Molly. “He and Jacob play together sometimes.” Her expression seemed almost cool, and Molly shifted with a sudden uneasiness.
“Is something wrong?”
Although Elaine smiled, there was no warmth in it. “Wrong? I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re angry with me, I can tell. Why? What did I do?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m angry. Just cautious. Concerned.” Elaine stabbed her fork aimlessly into her salad bowl several more times. “I don’t know, Molly. This whole thing with Beau just seems wrong to me. I mean, it’s kind of like you’re over there playing house, isn’t it?”
Molly froze. “No! It’s not like that at all!”
“Isn’t it? You’re over there in Beau’s cabin, making stuffed French toast for his kids, and lasagna for the family, but you don’t have any intention of staying and making this thing between you real.” She put her fork down. “What would you call it?”
Feeling a bit ill suddenly, Molly put her own fork on her plate and locked her hands in her lap. “That’s not what I’m doing. Beau and I have become close, but he knows I’m not planning to stay. I told him so again last night.”
“And the kids? Have you told them?”
“Of course I have.” But a pang of guilt zapped her when she realized how long it had been since she’d brought it up.
“Look,” Elaine said. “You’re my friend and I want you to be happy. But Beau’s a friend, too. A good friend. I know you want a family, Molly. I know you want children of your own. It’s obvious every time somebody else talks about their kids. But if all you’re doing is using Beau’s kids to ease your longing, that’s not right—for any of you.”
Molly recoiled as if Elaine had struck her. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
Elaine looked her straight in the eye. “You know I love you. And if you were doing this with anybody else, I probably wouldn’t say a word. But that family’s been through enough. If you’re not planning to stay, then all you’re doing is playing with their feelings. If you’re serious about Beau and the kids, then I won’t say another word. But if you’re not in this relationship for the long haul, I’m asking you—as your friend and Beau’s—to walk away and let them heal.”
Molly’s first response was to argue, but she knew in her heart that Elaine was right. She wasn’t in this for the long haul. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stay. There was nothing for her here, and much as she’d enjoyed pretending she could live this kind of life forever, she knew she’d never be happy if her days consisted only of laundry, dishes and dinners.
Elaine had circled the wagons to protect Serenity’s Golden Boy, and there would be others. No one would want to see him hurt again—especially Molly. Much as she hated to admit it, Elaine had a point. She couldn’t continue to pretend that Beau and his kids had any place in her life. Even more important, she couldn’t continue to pretend that she had a place in theirs.
IT WAS A WHOLE LOT easier to make the decision than to act on it. When Molly woke up the next morning, Brianne was waiting in one of the porch chairs, ready to help sort supplies and interested—though she didn’t want to admit it—in learning how to make jewelry. Even with her own arguments ringing in her ears, Molly hadn’t been able to turn the girl away. Not that day. Nor the next day after school or any day of the following two weeks.
With Brianne at the cabin every afternoon, Nicky was never far away. When the weather was good, he’d ride his bike, play football with imaginary playmates or bring neighborhood friends by to show off in front of the windows. After dark or when the weather was too cold, he’d construct towers out of building blocks on the rug in front of the fireplace or sit beside Molly and chatter about things that happened in school. At the end of every day, Molly promised herself that she’d make the break first thing the next morning.
Beau spent long hours away from home, flying charters or working with the committees on Christmas and WinterFest plans. He took the kids with him when he could, and she could tell he felt worse than they did when he had to leave them.
By mid-November she and the kids had established a daily routine. While the kids were at school, Molly created sketches of the jewelry women around town had lent her, did research on the Internet and read everything she could get her hands on that dealt with starting a small business. In the afternoons she’d throw dinner together, do a load of laundry, dust, vacuum or tidy a corner while the kids did homework, then they’d all scurry across to the cabin, where they’d stay until Beau came home.
Whatever housework she did was a small price to pay for continued use of the cabin.
One weekend, she and Beau had had breakfast at the diner while the kids had their piano lessons with Gwen. Beau’s mother, Vickie, had invited her for dinner on Sunday, and both she and Gwen had treated Molly like one of the family. Beau’s dad, and even Beau’s younger brother, Lucas, who was too busy dating to spend much time at home, had welcomed her without batting an eye.
Molly hadn’t forgotten that she still had questions about her mother’s accident, but every day she found a reason not to ask them. As long as she still had questions, she also had an excuse to stay.
The kids were only part of her reason for hanging around. Beau might not have many free moments, but she certainly got her fair share of the ones he did have. Long walks along the creekbed, dinners at the Chicken Inn, stolen kisses in the moonlight, evenings spent with the kids, rented movies and popcorn… Add the friendships she’d renewed in town, and it was heaven on earth. Molly went back and forth, one day convinced that she really could stay, the next irritated with herself for letting the situation continue.
On a cold Wednesday afternoon, she bundled herself into the coat she’d borrowed from Beau a few days earlier, stuffed her feet into the hiking boots she’d ordered online and trudged across the frozen lawn toward the house. Beau had flown a charter to Idaho Falls, but the kids would be home any minute, and she wanted to have cocoa ready when they arrived.
It was only a short walk from the cabin, but arctic air was blowing into the valley from the north, and the temperatures had dropped to nearly freezing overnight. Today, for the first time, she was having to face grim reality. The cabin was comfortable as long as she kept the fire burning, but it became uncomfortable quickly if she got distracted and didn’t replenish the firewood soon enough. Much as she might like to, she wouldn’t be able to stay in the cabin all winter unless Beau followed through on his plans to winterize it.
Inside the kitchen, she draped her coat over a chair and set to work. She filled the kettle with water and turned on the burner, then settled in with a paperback novel to wait for the kids. After only a page or two, the phone rang. Someone had left the cordless phone on the table, so she glanced idly at the caller ID screen. When she recognized Beau’s cell-phone number, she lunged for the phone and punched the talk button, hoping she’d gotten to it before the call transferred to voice mail.
“I’m here,” she said. “Don’t hang up.”
Beau laughed softly. “I was hoping you might be. What is it, laundry day?”
She’d been using his washer and dryer for weeks, and they’d fallen into a rhythm with laundry, as well. “Not today. Probably tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “I thought you’d be in the air by now. Is everything all right?”
“Change of plans,” he said. “There’s a bad storm rolling in and there’s no way I’ll get out of here tonight.”
She felt a pang of disappointment followed by shock at how much she’d grown used to being around him.
“I have another charter in the morning,” he said, “so I probably won’t be home until late tomorrow.”
Molly got up to turn off the kettle. “Do you have someplace to stay?”
“I have a room at a motel near the airport. I’ll make sure you have the number before I hang up. I hate to do this, Molly, but do you think you could stay with the kids for the night? They’d probably be okay there on their own, but I’d feel a whole lot better knowing they had an adult with them.”
“Of course I’ll stay. You don’t even need to ask.”
“Great. Use my room. There are clean sheets in the linen closet. Tell Brie I said for her to help you change them.”
The thought of sleeping in Beau’s bed lit a flicker of anticipation in her belly. “I’m capable of changing a set of sheets on my own,” she said with a laugh. “If it’s too difficult, I’ll just make up a bed on the sofa.” Which might be smart, but not nearly as much fun. “Is there anyone you need me to call? Don’t you have a meeting with the planning committee tonight?”
“Canceled, but Rosetta Carlisle might drop off some information she’s found about the snowball toss. If she does, just put it on my desk and I’ll see it when I come home. And if you have a minute while you’re online, could you check my e-mails?” He rattled off his screen name and password, and Molly scribbled them in the notebook he now kept near the phone. “The supplier we’ve always used for Wiffle balls went out of business during the summer, and I’m hoping bids from a couple of new companies will be there.”
Molly folded the note and tucked it between the pag
es of her novel. “You mean that people still walk off with the ‘snowballs’?”
“It’s worse than ever. We lose so many every year you’d think people needed them for food.”
“What if the bids are there? What would you like me to do?”
“Accept the best one. We need three hundred balls by this time next month. I’ll fill out the purchase order when I get back.”
“You trust me with your Wiffle balls? I’m flattered.”
“I trust you with a helluva lot more than that.” His voice was low and intimate, and it sent the most delicious curls of anticipation through her. “I’m also trusting you not to drool on my pillow.”
Molly laughed, and the rush of affection she felt for him nearly overwhelmed her. “I’ll use my own. Then you don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. Just a little annoyed by my rotten luck. I finally get you into my bed, and I can’t even be there to enjoy it.” A beep interrupted and he muttered something she didn’t understand. “My battery’s shot,” he said. “I’ll call later to talk to the kids.”
The connection died suddenly and Molly hung up. Thanksgiving was in just two weeks, she realized as she returned the phone to the table. In a month, WinterFest would be in full swing. Two weeks after that it would be Christmas, then New Year’s, and a whole new year would be under way.
She’d intended to leave Serenity eventually, but she’d been dragging out her visit with one excuse or another for weeks. Crossing to the window, she stared out at the yard, the frozen fields stretching away on one side, the roofs of neighbors’ homes on the other. Low clouds hugged the mountains rimming the valley, and she realized suddenly what she must always have known—she didn’t want to leave.
Not now. Not in a few weeks. Not ever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE BIDS CAME through just before noon the next day. Molly had moved Beau’s laptop to the kitchen table after the kids left for school so she could work without disturbing the notes and files spread all over his study. She considered both bids carefully, settled on the one that looked best to her, then sent the e-mail placing an order for three hundred Wiffle balls.