DESTINY'S EMBRACE

by Suzanne Elizabeth

  "Matthew?"

  He blinked, and refocused on Amanda.

  "I asked if you'd like some cookies. I just made them."

  He managed a smile. "Sounds good."

  She rose from the rocking chair and headed for the kitchen. With an almost scientific curiosity, Matthew watched the subtle sway of her skirt until she disappeared through the swinging door at the back of the room. Amanda was pretty, shapely, and highly intelligent. Why then, if they’d been courting for three months, had he never had so much as a single desire to kiss her? He’d never once found himself transfixed by the shape of her mouth, or been captivated by the way the light hit her eyes when she looked at him.

  She returned a moment later carrying a small plate of cookies. She handed them to him, and then, once again, sat down in the rocker. "They're cinnamon,” she told him.

  But Matthew already knew that. His nostrils had flared the moment she'd handed him the plate. He now recognized the scent that was always clinging to Lacey Guarder’s hair. Cinnamon. The sweet, spicy smell instantly conjured up an image of copper hair and golden eyes and he tossed the plate to the sofa.

  Amanda frowned. “You don't like them?"

  Realizing what he'd done, Matthew smiled and reached down to rearrange the scattered cookies back onto the plate. “I…uh…cinnamon gives me hives."

  "Oh, good heavens. I'm so sorry, Matthew." She rushed forward to pick up the plate and set it on the sideboard a few feet away, but the aroma had already filled the room. It was as if Lacey was sitting right beside him now.

  "Can I get you something else?" Amanda asked. "A cup of coffee, perhaps?"

  Matthew closed his eyes. "No, thank you."

  "Are you sure you're all right, Matthew?"

  Amanda looked so distressed that Matthew suddenly regretted coming to her house. He should have known she wouldn't be angry at him for not being able to make it to dinner the night before—Amanda would never be that petty. He should have waited until morning, when he was rested and more in charge of his own thoughts and emotions, before coming to apologize to her.

  "You know, I am really tired." He stood from the sofa. "I just wanted to tell you I was sorry. I'd better get home and at least try to get a good night's sleep."

  "Try? Are you having trouble sleeping?"

  "Uh… It's the wolves," he offered with a smile. "I haven't gotten used to the howling yet."

  She frowned. "Yes. That can be disturbing."

  The fact that wolves rarely howled in the middle of winter either didn't occur to her, or she was just too polite to mention it. Knowing Amanda, it was likely the latter.

  She led him to the front door and offered him his coat. "Perhaps we can get together for dinner at the reverend's on Sunday night?"

  He draped the coat over his arm. “I almost forgot, the Martins have invited us for dinner tomorrow night. I told them we'd come. If you’re available.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”

  The fact that he'd accepted the invitation without checking with her first didn't seem to bother Amanda at all. But that didn't surprise him. Amanda was kind, honest, unassuming, completely uncomplicated, totally gracious—a saint, for God’s sake. Then why the hell was it Lacey Guarder making his heart pound?

  Maybe he’d been wrong in keeping things proper between he and Amanda. Maybe one simple kiss was all it would take to light a fire between them.

  He turned toward her and smiled. “Come here," he said softly.

  He reached for her. She looked bewildered, hesitant, but still allowed him to gather her into his arms. Her eyes were wide as he bent his head and had a brief, tender taste of her lips. She was graceful, pleasant to embrace, but didn't quite feel right in his arms. Something was missing.

  He released her, feeling as if he’d just kissed his cousin, and tried to read the emotion in her eyes. Their kiss didn’t appeared to have had much of an effect on her either.

  He gave her a kind smile. “I’ll see you at tomorrow at five.” He reached for his hat.

  "Yes. Good night, Matthew."

  He headed down the snowy walk toward the street with a rock the size of Texas in his stomach. The woman he planned to marry left him cold as an Arctic fish. But the woman he wanted out of his life as fast as he could chase her gone ignited a fire in him like nothing he'd ever felt before. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could control the flames.

  Chapter 10

  Lacey lay curled up on the Martins' sofa, keeping warm by the fire while she considered her next move. The chances of Matthew Brady allowing her to go along on the hunt for Lorraine Rawlins was about as probable as the Starship Enterprise landing in the Martins' front yard. But if she relented, gave him the information he needed and then stayed behind, how could she trust that he and his men wouldn't scare Lorraine away before they ever got within ten feet of the girl or the money?

  There were only five days left for Lacey to accomplish her mission, which didn't leave a whole lot of room for error. Her freedom was at stake. How could she possibly trust that to the whim of Marshal Brady and his deputies?

  With all this in mind, the best choice seemed simple: she would go to Fairhaven on her own and get that money back herself.

  George walked into the room. “Hazel's all settled in for the night. Told me to say thank you for helpin' us out today."

  Lacey smiled. “She was falling asleep on my shoulder on the way home."

  "Ah, we're gettin' too old to handle crowds like the one today.” He eased down into the leather chair by the fire. "The more this town grows, the more employees we're gonna need."

  Everybody knew the never-ending crowd that day had been her fault, but it was kind of George not to mention that. "I'll help out as long as I'm in town," she replied. It was the least she could do.

  "'Preciate the offer, Lacey."

  "Then I did all right today?"

  "Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  Lacey smiled ruefully. Her first day on the job had fallen a little short of sterling. She'd spilled more coffee, dropped more plates, and messed up more orders than the three stooges on a bad day.

  "The important thing is," George continued, "you did your best."

  "I guess we've both discovered that I'm not exactly the greatest waitress in the world."

  He smiled. "I'd say you were meant for somethin' other than restaurantin'."

  "Guess so," Lacey mumbled. Like stealing wallets and robbing jewelry stores?

  "I'll give ya this, honey, you've got a knack for standin’ up against adversity. Heard you did a real good job with the Rawlins brothers this afternoon. Everybody's talkin’ about it. Whole town appreciates it."

  "Not the whole town."

  "Ah, Matthew'll come around. He's a sharp fella. Gets that from his daddy. Gets his stubbornness from his daddy too."

  "I don't suppose his daddy tended to change his mind easily."

  George laughed. “Sooner gnaw off his own foot."

  "Great," Lacey grumbled. "I guess I'll just stick with my plan then."

  "What plan is that?"

  "Just talking to myself. So you and Hazel must have made a killing in the cash department today."

  He gave her an odd look.

  "You must have taken in a lot of money," she clarified.

  "Oh. Yeah. Couldn't a done it without you, though."

  "It was the least I could do considering all you two have done for me. I mean you're feeding me, sheltering me, clothing me. I never intended to be such a problem—"

  "A problem?!" he exclaimed. "Hazel was just tellin' me how much she wishes you'd stay around."

  "She was?"

  “My wife thinks you're the greatest thing since canned vegetables. We both do."

  A warm feeling flooded through Lacey. Nobody had ever said anything like that to her before. She was beginning to feel a connection to the Martins, and it made her both content and anxious at the same time. "That’s very sweet of you. I…I think ve
ry highly of both of you. You’ve both done so much for me, and I—”

  “Lacey, you don't have to feel beholden to us for bein' your friends. Friends are s’pose to be there when the goin' gets tough. Like you were there for us today. But, listen, the next time you help us out in the restaurant we're gonna have ta get you an iron bustle.” He chuckled. “With all the pinchin’ that was going on out there, your fanny must look like the bad side of a twice dropped apple."

  She was a little sore now that he mentioned it. "I'm surprised you'd consider letting me come back after I ran off so many of your customers."

  “Some of 'em needed runnin' off. They'll be back. The nearest restaurant is just outside of Fairhaven, and I doubt they'd be willing to ride twenty miles in the snow to get there."

  Lacey straightened on the sofa. "Fairhaven is only twenty miles from here?"

  "That's right. You got business there?"

  “I…an aunt, actually."

  George brightened. "Really? Well, I know just about everybody in Whatcom County. What's your aunt's name?"

  Lacey gave him a hesitant smile. "Uhhh…Aunt Jemimah." For a pancake lover like herself, the words "aunt" and "Jemimah" just naturally went together.

  "Jemimah,” George repeated, frowning thoughtfully. "What's the surname?"

  "Umm…Jones?"

  "Know a Carl Jones. He any relation?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "Well, I can't exactly say I've heard of your aunt. She a married woman?"

  "No," Lacey said, simply because she didn't want to have to come up with an uncle's name as well.

  "What does she do to get by?"

  "She, uh, owns a bakery.”

  “Bakery,” George said to himself, still wracking his brain.

  “Best cakes around."

  "Well, you'll have to ask her if she'll share some recipes with us."

  Lacey nodded. "I'll ask her tomorrow, when I go for a visit."

  George's brows arched in surprised. "You're goin' to visit her tomorrow?"

  "Is that all right?"

  "Well, sure. But isn't it a little cold for you to go traipsin’ down to the bay?"

  "But you said it's only twenty miles."

  "Only twenty miles?"

  At his incredulous stare, Lacey suddenly remembered where she was. It wasn't as if they had a four-wheel drive truck parked in the barn next to the cow.

  "I don't suppose it's an easy walk?" she asked meekly.

  George broke into laughter. "I'll saddle up Big Red for ya first thing in the mornin'. Who've you got goin' with ya?"

  "With me?"

  George broke into a disapproving frown. "You aren't plannin' on goin' alone, are ya?"

  Lacey could tell, by his censoring tone, that if she admitted she planned to ride to Fairhaven by herself he'd change his mind about lending her the horse. "No," she scoffed. "Of course not. Marshal Brady's going with me. He said something about checking into some leads onLorraine Rawlins and I figured that would be a perfect opportunity to see my aunt."

  George nodded, believing every word, and Lacey's stomach slowly tied itself into a knot. She hated lying to this decent, trusting man.

  "Well, it's good to see you and Matthew are finally tryin' to get along."

  "We're doing our best."

  "Matthew's a good man."

  "If you say so," she muttered.

  "He's just a bit headstrong and a tad stingy with his affections." George gave her a pointed look. "You two have a lot in common."

  Lacey's smile was replaced by wide-eyed affront. "I am not stingy with my affections. I’m cautious. And I’m not half as stubborn as he is—he can't even give me credit when I’m obviously right."

  George smiled, and stood from the chair. "No need to get your back up. Just makin' an observation. You got a temper like him, too," he added with a smirk.

  "I do not," Lacey grumbled.

  “Maybe just a little.” He stood. “I’m headin' off to bed. See ya in the mornin’.”

  She smiled up at him. “Good night.” She listened to the comforting sound of his footsteps as he walked through the entryway, entered his bedroom, and shut the door.

  She leaned her chin on the thick arm of the sofa and stared into the fire. "I am nothing like Matthew Brady.” The man was hotheaded and suspicious, stubborn and unreasonable—she was nothing at all like him.

  "Sounds to me as if you are protesting too much, Miss Guarder."

  Lacey straightened. Her spiritual guide was making herself at home in the leather chair George had just vacated. “Where have you been?"

  "Here and there. How was your day in the nineteenth century?"

  "You ask that as if you don't know the answer."

  “It’s not as if I spend my entire day watching you, Miss Guarder. I do have other duties.”

  Lacey frowned. “I was assaulted by a mob of lumberjacks. Ogled by a pair of smelly outlaws. Pinched until my butt turned black and blue. And repeatedly insulted by the man I am supposed to be helping. Oh yes." She narrowed her eyes. "I went ice dancing. And I have a sneaking suspicion you had something to do with that."

  The woman gave her an innocent stare. “Why haven't you told Mr. Brady where he can find Lorraine Rawlins?"

  "Don't avoid the subject, lady. I saw you just before that snow turned to solid ice. If everything you do has a purpose, I want to know what purpose that served."

  "Are you attracted to him, Miss Guarder?"

  To Lacey's ultimate horror, her entire face heated up. "Wh-what difference does that make?”

  "It makes a great deal of difference. Have you felt any desire for him?"

  "Sure. The desire to strangle him.”

  The woman sighed. "I created that situation so that you and Mr. Brady would stop fighting long enough to actually become aware of each other."

  Lacey leaned forward. “Aware how?"

  "Don't you see it in his eyes?" the woman asked.

  "I see anger in his eyes. I see animosity, dislike—"

  "Then you're not looking deep enough."

  "Maybe it would help if I knew what I was looking for."

  "When you find it, you’ll know."

  Lacey fell back onto the sofa. "Maybe I don't want to know."

  "You haven't changed your mind about staying, have you?"

  "Not if I'd still do a nosedive into a nine-by-twelve cell, no.”

  "Then I ask you again, why haven't you told Mr. Brady where to find Lorraine Rawlins?"

  "Because I've decided to go to Fairhaven and get the money back myself."

  The woman turned downright pale. "That is a terrible idea."

  "Why?"

  "You need each other, Miss Guarder. Neither of you can do this alone."

  "Look, I've lived my whole life doing things on my own, and I've managed just fine." The woman gave her a dubious look. “Just fine until recently,” Lacey conceded. “But if I tell him what I know, he'll go to Fairhaven without me. And I can't take the chance of him and his three caballeros scaring Lorraine off."

  "Perhaps you should ask—"

  "I already have. The man practically laughed in my face when I told him I wanted to ride with him. Trust me. He's no more interested in my help than I am in his. You said my priority was seeing that money returned to Tranquility, and that's precisely what I intend to do."

  "If you're determined, then I guess there's nothing else I can say."

  "No, there isn't. I'm going to Fairhaven tomorrow—alone—and I'm going to get that money back for the bank if I have to drag Lorraine Rawlins back here by her nose hairs."

  "If that's what you've decided. I am only here to guide you, Miss Guarder. I cannot force you into making good decisions no matter how foolish your own may be."

  "Good." The woman’s lack of enthusiasm was beginning to impact Lacey’s confidence. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Lacey paused, hoping the angel would agree.

  But the woman didn't. She just pursed her lips and disappeared.


  Matthew stood, stark naked, at the end of a long aisle as a woman in a sleek white dress and veil walked toward him.

  Everyone he'd ever known was there, gathered in a meadow beneath a bright blue sky. And they were all as fully clothed as the bride, making him feel a little disconcerted about his nudity.

  The woman in the white dress reached for his hand. He hesitated at first, not sure who he would be giving it to. Finally, he took a deep breath, grasped her cool fingers, and helped her step up beside him.

  They both turned and faced George Martin, who then proceeded to marry them before God and all mankind.

  Matthew thought it strange that George Martin, a simple farmer and restaurant owner, was presiding over his wedding, but his bride seemed all right with the idea, so he ignored the oddity. She said her vows in a gentle, sweet voice, swearing to love him till the day she died, and he slipped a golden wedding band on her finger. Then came the time for him to lift her veil and seal their future with a kiss. He was afraid to do it; afraid of who he might find beneath. But the crowd became restless. Finally, he finally raised the veil.

  Amanda Simmons smiled back at him. He heaved a relieved sigh and smiled back at her. But then Amanda suddenly turned into his late mother, then into his obese Aunt Elinor, and finally his childhood dog. Instead of kissing her, he tossed the veil back over her face, spun her around, and sent her back up the aisle to wherever she’d come from.

  Entrancing laughter filled the air, and he turned to find Lacey Guarder standing where George Martin had been. Like Matthew, she was wearing nothing—except the smile on her face.

  "Don't you see?" Lacey said to him. "I'm finally here, Matthew. And you can't get away from me.”

  Matthew sat bolt upright in his bed. His upper body was a sheen of sweat and he was breathing hard as he struggled to shake off the dream.

  He set his elbows on his bent knees, and pushed his fingers through his damp hair. “Hell,” he said, dropping his forehead into his hands. "I can't even get away from her in my sleep."

  He glanced toward his window, and noticed the dark sky beginning to brighten. Dawn was breaking. Time for all respectable folks to be climbing out of their respectable beds.