Callaghan's Way

by Marie Ferrarella

  He grinned. She looked slightly messy, reminding him of the way she’d been when they all played together. And rather breathtaking for it. “You have a twig in your hair.”

  Automatically she reached up to brush it away, even though she hadn’t the slightest idea where it was. She missed completely, and the bit of twig stubbornly clung to the strands of her hair.

  “I did some yardwork before dinner. When I was a kid, I thought evergreen meant that they never lost their leaves, not that they lost them all the time. They should be called ever-falling, not evergreen.”

  She shook her head slightly. The twig remained lodged. “We missed you at dinner tonight.”

  “I had something to take care of.”

  Which was a lie. There hadn’t been anything to take his attention away. When he had seen her come home today, he’d realized that he welcomed the sight of her a little too much, looked forward to her arriving home too much. It was a dangerous habit, a dangerous frame of mind to allow himself to fall into. One way or another, their lives were becoming as entwined as ivy growing up a trellis. He was becoming too dependent on seeing her, which was bad. For her.

  When she took another swipe at the twig and missed again, he took pity on her.

  “Here, let me,” he offered.

  The twig was stuck in her hair just above her ear. Kirk gently brushed it away. How, then, his fingers came to be tangled in her hair, he didn’t know.

  It was as if his hands had a life apart from him. As did his eyes, which were fastened to the tempting curve of her mouth.

  He couldn’t seem to take his hands away, so he left them there, framing her face. The words came on their own. “You know, most of the time I see life through the eyepiece of a video camera. Everything is gray. When I’m with you—” his voice lowered until it was almost a whisper, almost a prayer “—it’s like looking through the eyepiece of my camera. All the colors come into focus.”

  Rachel was certain her heart was lodged in her throat. Speaking was difficult. Not speaking was impossible. “That’s very poetic,” she breathed. “Have you ever thought of doubling as a writer?”

  He felt his mouth curving in a grin. She could still get in a dig when she wanted to. “You’ve seen what I can do with letters.”

  The rest of the world was swiftly fading away into the darkness around her. All she could see was Kirk. “Maybe poems will come easier for you.”

  He shouldn’t be feeling these things, he told himself. He shouldn’t be wanting her this way. It wasn’t fair to her. “Nothing comes easy for me, Funny Face.”

  Her mouth was dry, and she had to force her next words out. “Should make the getting of it all the sweeter for you, then.” As she spoke, Rachel raised herself ever so slightly on her toes. She realized that she was holding on to his arms for balance.

  “There’s nothing sweet about life, Funny Face.” God, but he wanted her, wanted to lose his soul in her sweetness, to lose himself in her. “Except for you.”

  Her breath was in very short supply by now. “More poetry.”

  Slowly he shook his head, his eyes remaining on hers. “More truth.”

  She couldn’t take it anymore. If he didn’t do something soon, she was going to explode. “Are you going to kiss me, or am I going to have to throw myself at you?”

  He couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips. Honest, even now. She was incredible. “Can’t have that, can we?”

  If her heart pounded any harder, it was going to fall out of her chest. “Nope.”

  Hesitation overtook him. Whatever his needs, they shouldn’t be allowed to hurt her. “But—”

  Her patience vanished like a drop of water in the desert. “Damn you, Kirk Callaghan. For a man who doesn’t talk much, you can’t seem to shut up.”

  Rachel brought her mouth up to his, but at the last moment, it was he who lowered his mouth to hers.

  The explosion, she later judged, could probably have been felt for miles.

  By making the initial contact, Kirk had meant to control the action. To provide the brakes that would be necessary to end it. It was as simple as that.

  There was nothing simple about it.

  Something crackled through him as he tasted her mouth. Electricity, gunfire, something. It had no name, other than Rachel.

  It was like tumbling off the edge of a cliff. Exhilaration and fear warred within him, and he could do nothing but pray that there was something out there that would break his fall.

  Nothing could have prepared him for this, not the women who had come before, not the anticipation that had preceded this.

  Nothing.

  His mouth worked feverishly over hers. Each pass fed on the last and increased the passion that went through him a thousandfold.

  Her lips parted, tempting him, admitting him.

  Dreams tangled with tongues as her blood heated to the point where she didn’t know why she didn’t just boil away, evaporating into the clouds overhead.

  She delved her hands into his thick hair, losing herself in the infinitely wonderful sensation of his mouth hot on hers. It was like riding the largest roller coaster ever created. Each plunge had her hurtling to the next crest, hanging on with both hands to keep from falling out.

  She felt his body seal against hers, felt the hardness of his desire. She could taste it on his lips, feel its mate singing in her veins.

  It was everything she had ever expected, everything she had ever dreamed of, but multiplied by an exponential factor too large to conceive.

  By now her heart was hammering so hard against her chest that she was convinced it had slammed out of her body and gone into his. Which was as it should be, she thought. Her heart had always belonged to Kirk, one way or another.

  This was temporary. She knew that. Knew he wouldn’t stay with her. When the time came, he would leave again. But that knowledge made no difference to her now. Whatever he had to offer, she would take and treasure. Whatever would happen tomorrow, she’d have this moment.

  Chapter 11

  Kirk drew away, even though everything in his being urged him to continue. To hold her soft body against him and drink in the wild, intoxicating wine of her lips. With considerable effort, he forced himself to take his hands away from her. Regret, for what he had done and for what he could not do, filled him.

  Rachel saw it in his eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he told her.

  Until it had happened, Rachel hadn’t fully realized just how long she had been waiting for Kirk to kiss her. And how much she had wanted it.

  “On the contrary, you should have done that a long time ago. And as I recall—and you did burn out a few of my brains cells just then, so I might be wrong—we did it together.”

  Very softly, he stroked the back of his hand along her cheek. Whatever excuse she gave, it took two, and he shouldn’t have been one of them. “I’m no good for you, Funny Face.”

  Sometimes he made her so mad she could scream. But reason, not emotion, was called for here.

  “If I was mature enough at six to know you needed someone, I think I’m mature enough now to judge what’s good for me and what isn’t.” She saw the doubt in his expression and did what she could to alleviate it. “Kirk, you just kissed me. You didn’t plight your troth. There are no consequences for this.”

  But they both knew that there were. Singularly or together, they’d opened a door that had never been opened before.

  Kirk avoided her eyes as he edged away. “I’d better go.”

  “I know that you will,” she told him quietly. Her tone made him turn around to look at her. “Eventually. I’d never try to stop you.”

  That made it all the harder, because she was so good. He didn’t want to hurt her. “Rachel, there are things you don’t know about me.”

  She laid a hand on his arm, mutely communicating things she couldn’t quite put into words yet. He could never tell her anything about himself that would make her back away from him. Anything
that would make her feel any differently about him.

  “I know all that I need to know about you, Kirk. I always have.” As she said it, she knew that she had never stopped being in love with Kirk, not really. It had just been dormant all this time. “The rest, you can tell me. Or not,” she added simply. “The choice is yours. I won’t pass judgment on you. I never have.” She smiled her encouragement. “I’ll just be here when you need me. The way I always was.”

  He knew she was telling the truth. She had always been there for him, even when she hadn’t realized it. It felt so one-sided. He couldn’t take, not when he had nothing to give. He was so empty inside. “And what about you? What about your needs?”

  She wanted to hold him, to hug him and make whatever doubts he had go away. She remained where she was, afraid of pushing him even farther away.

  “Silly.” Affection flooded her voice. “Don’t you know that you’ve always helped me, no matter what was wrong, just by being there? By listening when I talked. By making me feel special? You gave me a great deal.”

  “Gave.” The word hovered in the air like a eulogy. “In the past.” Didn’t she understand what he was attempting to tell her? “I have nothing to give now, Funny Face.”

  How could he underestimate himself so much? “Don’t be so sure of that.” Resigned for the moment, Rachel stepped back. “Good night, Kirk. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “I—”

  She looked up sharply at the hesitant note in his voice. He was going to change his mind, she thought suddenly. Fresh fear surged through her. He couldn’t back away, not from her son. Ethan would never get over having Kirk break his word to him.

  Rachel struggled to hide the emotion she felt. “Ethan said something about you taking him out for a shoot early tomorrow. It was the only conversation we had, actually. He talked about you. Just you.”

  Her eyes held his, pleading with him not to turn her down. Not to turn Ethan down because of her.

  “I have to tell you, he was more animated with me tonight than he’d been in a long time.” Her hand slid from the doorknob, and she stepped forward again until her eyes were almost level with him. “He’s trying very hard not to appear excited, but he is. You’re slowly giving me back my son, Kirk.” Her expression grew serious. “Don’t tell me you have nothing to give, Callaghan. I won’t have you beating up my best friend that way.”

  She stopped, realizing that her voice was growing in intensity. Rachel leaned over the step and brushed her lips lightly over his. It wasn’t easy restraining herself when she desperately wanted to lean into him and let things progress naturally from there.

  She stepped back. “And you are, you know, and always will be—my best friend.”

  He couldn’t remember ever aching for a woman the way he was for her. Kirk couldn’t remember ever aching for a woman at all. Sex had always been casual—no strings, no desires beyond the physical. He couldn’t remember the face of a single woman he had slept with.

  Though he had done nothing more than kiss her, it was different between Rachel and him. There was another dimension shimmering between them. There was tenderness, and a need to protect her at all costs. “Best friends don’t hurt each other.”

  “No,” she agreed softly as she moved away, “they don’t.” She stood framed in the doorway of her house, a hazy, warm light shining at her back. “And you never will.”

  Rachel closed the door behind her.

  He wanted to follow her inside. To take up where they had left off a few minutes ago. For a moment, he was certain that if he didn’t give in to the overwhelming desire that was racking his body and pounding in his brain, he’d die.

  But he had been to hell and back more times that he could count, and he knew that deprivation wouldn’t destroy him. It never had before. Only then it had been the deprivation of love. The deprivation of even the slightest bit of human kindness from either parent.

  In a way, it had helped him, he thought. It had hardened him for the sights he was to endure in his travels.

  As Kirk turned and began walking toward his own house, he didn’t know just how much longer he could go on like this, harnessing what begged to be set free.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could go on wanting her and not give in, especially since she was so willing to let him.

  With a sigh, he shoved his key into the lock of his door and turned it. Nothing but dark and cold greeted him. It was no different from all those years when he had been growing up.

  Kirk thought of leaving again. Permanently.

  But he knew he wasn’t ready yet. There was unfinished business here for him. There were ghosts to finally confront and lay to rest. The peace he’d sought, he’d found, in part, in Rachel. But what she gave, she also took away, because his desire for her broke up his peace like ice melting beneath a hot sun.

  But there was a different, greater peace to be won. One he had to attain if he was to go on. One he wasn’t certain he could attain. But he had to try. No, he couldn’t leave, not yet.

  Kirk closed the door behind him and flipped on a light. The sheets, thanks to Rachel, had been removed. The barriers had not. That needed more time. He needed more time.

  He had been on the phone to the publisher who handled most of his work, and had extended his leave for a little while longer.

  He had time.

  But was time alone enough?

  He stared off in the direction of Rachel’s house, seeing past the walls between them as if they didn’t exist. He really had no answer to his own question.

  He could only hope. She had done that for him, allowed a tiny kernel of hope to nestle in his soul. He owed her so much.

  Which was why he could never allow himself to make love with her. He couldn’t begin to repay what he owed her. He was empty inside, and she deserved a man who could love her. A man who could be good to her and her son. And Kirk knew he wasn’t that man.

  * * *

  Ethan had been ready since five o’clock. He had gotten up, made his own breakfast and planted himself on the sofa near the front door, all before Rachel ever got out of bed.

  She had come downstairs and found him like that, sitting on the sofa, poised and ready. “Big day?” she asked affectionately as she fought to drive sleep away from her system.

  Ethan shrugged, though the gesture was growing less pronounced each time he employed it. “You said it wasn’t polite to keep people waiting.”

  “That I did.” Rachel struggled with the urge to press a kiss to his serious brow. Not yet, she told herself. Soon, soon, he’d let her back in. Rushing him wouldn’t make it happen any faster.

  She heard the doorbell ring. “That would be your mentor.”

  Ethan had popped to his feet like bread being ejected by a faulty toaster. “My what?”

  “Mentor,” she repeated, moving to the door just ahead of him. “That means teacher. He is going to be teaching you how to take photographs, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. He said I had a good eye.” Ethan turned to Kirk as Rachel admitted him in. “Didn’t you say that? That I had a good eye?” he prompted impatiently when Kirk said nothing in response.

  Kirk’s greeting had evaporated on his tongue when he glanced in Rachel’s direction. She was wearing a worn baseball jersey, and what seemed like nothing else. His mouth felt dry as dust.

  “Yeah,” he finally said, his eyes still on Rachel, “and so does the man across the street, as I recall.” The mailbox before the door still read The Hendersons.

  Rachel looked at him, amused. Their kiss had kept her awake half the night. It was nice to know that it wasn’t all one-sided. Kirk was jealous. “Are you politely telling me to get out of the doorway?”

  “Unless you want to torture the man.” He nodded toward the Hendersons’ house.

  Rachel didn’t attempt to hide her grin. “I do believe you’ve just given me a compliment.” Prudently she stepped to the side.

  “I’ll give you whatever you want,” h
e muttered. “Just go put something on. For everyone’s sake,” he added, and saw a wide smile taking over her lips. He looked down at Ethan. “Ready?”

  Ethan nodded, his blond hair bobbing to and fro. He darted through the open door.

  “How long are you going to be gone?” Rachel called after them.

  “As long as it takes,” Kirk answered. “Don’t expect us back before evening.” He looked down at Ethan. “Okay with you?”

  Ethan was surprised at being consulted. “Super with me.” He had to work at forming a frown. “I mean, yes. It’s okay.”

  “See you,” Kirk said over his shoulder. And he certainly was, he thought. Far more than he had reckoned on.

  Ethan was already at the minivan, eagerly shifting from foot to foot.

  Kirk had nothing definite planned as he got in behind the wheel. He intended to drive around the town, which was slumbering beneath the early-morning sun, until something struck him as worthy of being captured on film. For the past few days, he’d been toying with the idea of compiling a book of photographs of Bedford as a present for Rachel. He knew how much she loved the place.

  Having Ethan help him, and perhaps even take some of the photographs, would undoubtedly add to her enjoyment of the gift.

  Ethan remained quiet as they drove along the empty thoroughfare. He stared straight ahead, trying to guess where it was they were going. Finally, he couldn’t hold his questions bottled up any longer.

  He turned toward Kirk as they approached a long, empty stretch of road. “How do you know?”

  “Know what?” Kirk replied, turning left onto University Drive. He could remember when there had been deer here instead of a network of houses crawling up the hill. The town had grown up while he’d been gone.

  Ethan waved his hand about airily to indicate the immediate world outside the van. “How do you know when to take a picture?”

  Kirk decided to drive down a little farther, toward a fenced-in field he remembered seeing. Untended, sun-bleached grass waved on the crest like the delicate fringe on a newborn’s head.