To Love a Stranger

by Adrianne Byrd

  “Mother, not now.” Madeline removed her black hat and veil and then kicked her pumps across the room. “I never wanted his money and I have no clue how to run all these businesses.”

  “It’s simple. You hire people.”

  Madeline sighed. Why did she even bother discussing this with her?

  “Of course, this also means you’re back on the market.”

  “Mother, if you mention Toby McDaniel. I swear, I’ll scream.”

  Cecelia rolled her eyes and handed her daughter her flute of champagne. “There’s that tone.” She waved a slender finger in reprimand. “Besides, Toby is no longer available. I hooked him up with someone else already.”

  Madeline arched an inquisitive brow and set her champagne down on her vanity without a sip. “Who?”

  Her mother fluttered a hand around. “Oh, just an acquaintance.”

  “Does this acquaintance have a name?”

  “Denitra Bell,” Cecelia mumbled into her glass.

  The name was familiar and it took Madeline a moment to place it. “That private eye’s girlfriend? The one you called a Spandex Queen?”

  “Yes, well, it turns out all she needed was some polishing.”

  Dubious, Madeline leveled her with a look.

  “Okay. It took some major overhauling.” Cecelia squared her shoulders. “But it was nice having a eager student. And if you ask me, it’s way past time to enroll Ariel into charm school.”

  “Then it’s a good thing nobody asked you.”

  There was a soft knock before Lysandra entered the room, as well.

  “Now, this one I’d like to get my hands on.”

  “What?” Lysandra asked, suspicious she’d been the butt of a joke.

  “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  Lysandra took her at her word and informed them, “The kids are taking their naps.”

  “Thank you. Losing their uncle like this on top of…” She sighed. No matter what, Madeline’s thoughts traveled back to Marcellus and, shortly after, her body ached from his absence. “I had no idea Christopher was suicidal. I knew he was taking the scandal pretty hard but…”

  Lysandra took Madeline by the hand. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

  “Lately it seems everything is my fault. And I don’t know how to fix any of it.”

  That included her heart. The one thing she tried her entire life to protect was now shattered into a million pieces.

  Lysandra walked over to the vanity and picked up Marcellus’s folder. “You still have this?”

  Madeline nodded. Hell, she had the whole thing memorized. Major Marcellus Cougar was born and raised in Seattle Washington. One sibling—a younger sister. His father died a war hero in Vietnam. His mother a school teacher. Not much information about his academia, other than he’d joined the ROTC, but Madeline suspected Marcellus was a good student. He joined the military the same year he married Pamela Cutler.

  Pamela. Madeline shook her head. She had never been prone to jealousy, but thinking of the woman who now warmed Marcellus’s bed threatened to do her in.

  The report did have some major gaps. Like whether the two had children. Or what Pamela did for a living as they bounced from one military base after another.

  The fascinating material revolved around Marcellus’s medical discharge from the military. During his extended deployment in the Middle East, he was a sole survivor of a Black Hawk crash that not only battered his body but doctors had diagnosed him with severe post-traumatic stress disorder.

  PTSD answered the questions about Marcellus’s insomnia, small bouts of depression and memory loss.

  “Well, I say, good riddance to him,” Cecelia said, pouring herself another drink. “I knew he was a fraud the moment I laid eyes on him.”

  Madeline and Lysandra rolled their eyes.

  “I told you. You can’t fake good breeding. All that rolling around in the yard. Just be happy you were too smart to let him in your bed.”

  Madeline and Lysandra’s gazes crashed. Neither corrected Cecelia or mentioned the child growing inside Madeline’s body.

  “And don’t think I bought that whole traumatic-stress nonsense.”

  Madeline closed her eyes and wished like hell she could put a muzzle on her mother.

  “Now, I know that you weren’t in love with the real Russell Stone, dear. But you can’t say he wasn’t a great provider. And really, that’s all a woman needs in a man. You start caring, or worse, loving them…and it’ll lead to disaster.” Cecelia’s voice quivered.

  When Madeline glanced over at her. She was stunned to see tears shimmering in her mother’s eyes. “Are you crying?” Had she ever seen her mother cry before?

  “Ah.” Cecelia waved the question off. “Silly emotions.”

  “You were in love once, weren’t you?” Madeline asked, stunned.

  Cecelia straightened her shoulders and knuckled away a tear. “Once. Which is why I’ve always warned you against it. Women…and our silly notions of knights in shining armor and our crazy nonsense of happily-ever-after. It should be against the law to read little girls fairy tales. They do more harm than good.”

  Madeline ignored her mother’s bluster and pressed, “Who was he?”

  More tears leaked from Cecelia’s eyes and Madeline grabbed a few Kleenexes from her vanity table and handed it to her. “Who?”

  “Your damn father, who else?” Her mother dabbed her eyes.

  “My father?” Madeline knew close to nothing about her father. Only that he was some Cape Cod summer fling who conveniently forgot to mention he was married.

  “I was young and dumb,” she said, downplaying the experience. “It can never be said that I didn’t learn my lesson.”

  Sighing, Madeline shook her head. “But I didn’t learn mine. No, I was never in love with Russell…but I do love Marcellus. I know that he doesn’t have all the qualities you expect out of a husband, but he had every quality that I wanted.” Tears resurfaced in Madeline’s eyes.

  “He doesn’t come from money or, as far as, I can tell, aspire to be the next gazillionaire. But there was no denying he had heart. He was patient, caring and loving. He’s a man who walked into our lives and turned it upside down. And before we knew it, he was gone again.

  “And you know what? I would give it all up for him to walk back into our lives. Walk in and call Ariel pumpkin or run around out side tossing the football with Russ. I want us all to gather around a fireplace and eat s’mores until it’s running out of our ears. And for once I want the father to be in the room when I deliver our child.”

  Madeline watched Cecelia’s eyes widen in horror. “But don’t worry, it’ll never happen.” Be-fore she knew it, she’d broken down again. However, this time, it was her mother’s arm that comforted her.

  Seattle, Washington

  Marcellus placed flowers against the tombstone of his wife’s empty grave and wiped at the silent tears. In the past two months, he’d suffered an incredible amount of guilt for having forgotten about his beautiful wife. Their life together, the dreams they shared and how they all abruptly ended during the 9/11 attacks.

  Pamela had never even been to New York before, but she always wanted to go to Broadway, Central Park and wave a sign in front of Good Morning America. So for her thirtieth birthday, Marcellus bought two tickets: one for Pamela and one for his mother. He couldn’t go because he had just received deployment papers for the Middle East.

  They left on a Friday, called him all weekend about the shows they caught and then waved their signs with Al Roker Monday. Tuesday morning, they’d decided, to have breakfast at the Windows of the World restaurant at the World Trade Center.

  Marcellus took his next batch of flowers and placed them across the few remains of his mother. Burying both women had been one of the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. That and trying to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault they were gone. He bought the tickets. He sent them that week.

  His baby sister, Va
lerie, had tried her best to help ease his guilt. But it hadn’t worked. What had helped, at least for a little while, was transforming himself into some kind of superhero during his three tours in the Middle East. What some of the guys on his squad called bravery, Marcellus called a death wish.

  And he nearly got it.

  His Black Hawk was shot down by small arms fire. Out of seven soldiers aboard, only he survived. After his physical injuries healed, the psychological ones began to pile. Post-traumatic stress syndrome had been his diagnoses and one month later, he’d received a medical discharge from the military.

  His sister had left the states, married a Canadian doctor in Nova Scotia. Being his last surviving family member, he went to see her—only to learn that she’d died in a car accident the year before. No one had contacted him.

  Looking back on it now. Maybe receiving the news on his in-laws’ front porch had finally snapped something within him while he walked along the Nova Scotia seashore. The lives he was responsible for continued to pile. And then this week, Christopher Stone’s suicide sent him reeling once again.

  For six weeks he had been Christopher Stone’s long lost little brother. He’d liked the man though now he knew they were from two different classes, two different worlds.

  Madeline belonged to that other world, as well. A woman of privilege and fierce ambition wouldn’t want anything to do with a man who had nothing. Hadn’t she admitted that she’d only married for money?

  Hell, he didn’t even have a life anymore.

  Marcellus had debated on whether to attend Christopher’s funeral, but knew the media still swarmed like flies around the family. His beard was growing in full now, his hair a little unruly. One thing for sure, he wouldn’t be wearing any Armani suits again anytime soon.

  Lowering his head, Marcellus waited for another wave of guilt. Why was he thinking about another woman while at his wife’s grave? The guilt never came. It had been over six years since Pamela’s death and the pain of his loss seemed to have a weaker hold over his heart. Not that he didn’t still love her, it’s just that…maybe it was time to move on.

  Maybe it was okay to fall in love again. It was just too bad, he could never cross back over to that other world. Never hold Madeline Stone in his arms, never kiss his pumpkin good-night or toss the football around in the yard with Russ.

  But for one moment in time, he did all those things. And it had been one of the happiest times in his life.

  April showers were more like torrential rain in New York. One night, Madeline and the children couldn’t sleep. As a treat, Madeline suggested they gather around the fireplace and eat s’mores. It’d also helped sate her massive chocolate cravings. But instead of cheering the children up, it seemed to depress them more.

  Marcellus’s presence was sorely missed.

  “Maybe we can invite his other family to come live with us?” Ariel suggested sheepishly.

  Russ huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Russ, don’t talk to your sister like that,” Madeline gently reprimanded.

  “Well, it was a stupid suggestion,” he complained.

  Madeline’s brows stretched high into her forehead to let her son know not to try her patience on this.

  “He said that he would never forget how to come home again,” Ariel complained pitifully.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry but we’ve been over this. Marcellus was not your father. He just looked like him.”

  “Does that mean that he never loved us?”

  “Oh, baby. Come here.” Madeline stretched out her arms and Ariel found room on her lap. “I’m sure Marcellus came to care for us very much. In his own way. It wasn’t his fault that he was sick.”

  “Because he had annameseah?” Ariel questioned.

  “Yes, baby.” Madeline finger combed her daughter thick locks. “You mustn’t hate him. You must never hate him.” She sniffed.

  “I don’t hate him,” Ariel mumbled. “I just wish that he could be our daddy again.”

  Madeline smiled through her brimming tears. “Me, too, baby.”

  Russ stood and ran to his room.

  Chapter 24

  New York Fashion week

  The House of Madeline’s first fashion show was minutes away from curtain call and they were opening to a packed house. Photographers, critics, celebrities and the just plain curious had turned out and packed the place.

  Despite being irritable, cranky and wishing her due-at-any-moment child would get off her bladder, Madeline painted on a smile and raced around models, makeup artists and stagehands like a madwoman.

  “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” Lysandra asked, trying her best to direct Madeline to a chair. “We agreed that I would take care of everything back here.”

  Cecelia rounded a stage corner with Ariel and Russ at her side, dressed to the nines in their own House of Madeline clothing.

  “Oh, look at my little angels,” Madeline cooed, and planted kisses against each of their dimpled cheeks. “You guys want to watch the show backstage with Mommy?”

  “Cecelia said we get to be models,” Ariel said, keeping to the rule not to call Cecelia grandma in public.

  “That’s right. At the end of the show, we will all walk out and wave to the audience with that little bow we practiced at home to thank everyone for coming.”

  Russ sighed and fingered his collar like it was choking him.

  “You okay, baby?” Madeline asked, though she sensed he’d rather do anything other than stroll down a catwalk.

  However, Russ nodded and chose not to complain.

  “How about we all go out for some pizza or ice cream after this?” It was clearly a bribe.

  “Can we have both?” Russ tested.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Thirty seconds to curtain!” Their stage director announced.

  “I better go take my seat,” Cecelia said, and then met Madeline’s gaze. “If I haven’t said it before, I’m very proud of you.”

  Surprised, Madeline smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

  They hugged briefly and Cecelia rushed off just as the house lights dimmed and the music grew louder.

  Marcellus had hoped to blend with the crowd at the House of Madeline fashion premiere. He still wasn’t certain whether it was actually a good idea to attend, but he had promised Madeline he would be here in support. Of course, that was when he was her husband.

  His suit wasn’t Armani, but he still cleaned up well. He’d gotten rid of the beard and hid his eyes behind a large pair of fashionable sunglasses. He was almost through the door, too, but then one photographer recognized him and began snapping pictures. Next came a barrage of questions.

  “Aren’t you the man who pretended to be Russell Stone?”

  “What are you doing here tonight?”

  “Do you feel that Christopher Stone took advantage of your illness?”

  “What’s your real name?”

  On and on it went until he made it inside the building. But even then the photographer’s lights continued to flash until he found his seat.

  In the next second, the lights dimmed and the house music pumped as loud as a rock-and-roll concert and the models hit the catwalk.

  Marcellus didn’t know much about fashion; he just liked what he liked. However, he had to admit after an hour of watching long-legged models strut like their lives depended on it, he liked a great deal of the clothing House of Madeline created.

  He recognized a few outfits from when they were just sketches on Madeline or Lysandra’s desk. He swelled with pride at seeing Madeline’s dream come to fruition and he hated, now more than ever, that he wasn’t there for the entire process…like he said he would be.

  Sensing that the event was drawing to an end, he stood, ready to slip out of the building and back into obscurity, when Lysandra, Madeline, Ariel and Russ hit the stage. Suddenly he was rooted to his seat.

  Russ looked as if he’d grown two inches sinc
e he’d last seen him and Ariel was even more adorable in her dark green dress…but what had absolutely captured his attention was Madeline’s extremely pregnant belly.

  The audience stood with thunderous applause. Madeline and the family waved merrily to the crowd and then gave a slight bow.

  Marcellus stared hard and long, willing Madeline to glance in his direction. Just as she and children pivoted to head backstage, it happened. Their gazes met and she nearly took a tumble. Lysandra helped her recover and then continued their journey.

  The houselights came up and Marcellus finally blinked out of his trance. “Oh, my God.”

  “Are you all right?” Lysandra asked once they were safely backstage.

  Madeline couldn’t catch her breath. “He’s here.”

  A crowd tried to form around Madeline to congratulate her, but Lysandra had to fend them off by asking for some privacy.

  “He’s here,” Madeline kept repeating.

  Lysandra led her to one of the makeup artist’s empty chairs. “Who’s here? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Mommy, are you all right?” Ariel asked.

  Realizing she was alarming everyone, Madeline elected to take a few deep calming breaths and paint on another smile. “Yes, baby. Mommy’s fine.”

  Lysandra looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Yes.” She considered the likelihood that she’d truly seen Marcellus in the audience and shook her head. “It’s just probably these raging hormones.”

  Her cousin’s worry lines deepened.

  “Really.” She patted Lysandra’s hand and stood from the chair. “I’m okay. Time to do a little meet and greet.” She turned to the children. “And then it’s pizza and ice cream.”

  The moment she left the makeup chair, Madeline joined the press and the congratulating critics. Though they smiled in her face now, it was too soon to know what would actually be printed about the new fashion line.

  “Congratulations, dear,” Cecelia gave dramatic smooches for the camera, her current boyfriend and future husband stood beaming behind her. “Absolutely stunning. You’re a hit.”