She shut the bedroom door behind her and found Nita thumbing through one of the magazines Libby had brought.
“Finally asleep?”
“Finally.” She noticed a glow outside the kitchen window and looked inquiringly at Nita.
“Ace built a fire,” she explained. “He likes sitting outside, even in the dead of winter.”
Meg could imagine what he’d say if she were to ask him why. He would tell her about finding peace beneath the vast space after being confined behind bars for so long, or feeling closest to God when he was enjoying His creations. Or he might simply say that he liked to be alone.
“Why don’t you wrap up in a quilt and join him?” Nita suggested.
Memories of the times she’d tried to connect with Elton flashed through her mind, followed almost immediately by the memory of Ace telling her time and again that he wasn’t Elton. She knew that, but still, the thought of imposing on his alone time was a bit scary.
“Go on,” Nita urged. “He won’t mind. I’ll make you each a cup of sassafras tea with honey to keep you warm.”
Meg took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Nita told her, making a shooing motion toward the door. “Go. Get the quilt off my bed.”
Fearful that she might be overstepping her bounds, Meg nonetheless decided to do just that. After all, she was not the old Meg anymore. The new Meg needed to be more forceful, less fearful. Besides, Ace was too polite to say anything, even if he did feel as if she were intruding. Taking Nita’s suggestion, she tiptoed into the children’s room and got the quilt.
Chapter Eleven
Ace was staring into the fire when he must have heard the latch of the door catch. He looked up and watched as she made her way down the back steps. Knowing he was watching every step she took made her very uncomfortable. Trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, she settled onto one of the big chunks of wood that doubled as a stool. It was closer to his than she would have liked, but moving it would only draw more attention to the awkwardness they’d struggled with the past weeks.
“Kids down for the night?” he asked.
His voice was as smooth and dark as the sky spread out above them. She gave a little shiver that had nothing to do with the chilly air and drew the quilt closer. “Yes. I think between your story and the excitement over tomorrow, Teddy was just overly excited.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no! I didn’t mean to put the blame on you. It’s just one of those things that happen every now and then when you have children.”
“You’re a good mother.”
The compliment caught Meg off guard. No one except her aunt had ever told her that before. She felt pleased and strangely humbled. She loosed a soft, wry laugh into the night. “I don’t know if I’m doing a good job or not, but I’m trying.”
“That’s all anyone can do.”
“I hope they aren’t bothering you too much, demanding so much of your attention,” she said, daring to put her fears to the forefront.
He turned to face her, and the light of the fire gilded his angular features with molten copper. “Lucy and Teddy? Not at all. I remember being as curious as Teddy about everything when I was his age, and Lucy is such a sweetheart that no one could be angry at her about anything.”
“Elton could.”
The words escaped before she could stop them. Meg wished with all her heart that she could call them back, that she could reach a point where everything in her present life was not a comparison to the past.
“That was too bad for him,” Ace said.
The awkwardness passed and that peaceful silence they’d shared as they worked together stretched out between them. An owl hooted nearby, and a pack of coyotes began to yip in the distance.
Meg decided to raise a topic she’d wondered about for more than three long weeks—probably longer than that. It was a very personal topic, and probably one that was highly improper for her to bring up, but she hoped to gain some insight into the workings of the mind of the man with whom she feared she was falling in love. Taking a deep breath, she plunged headlong into uncharted waters.
“You’ve never married.”
* * *
The statement caught Ace completely off guard. He was surprised and wasn’t sure he wanted to comment. “No.”
Meg looked at him curiously. “I know it’s none of my business, but why? It’s pretty clear that you’d make a great husband and father.”
He couldn’t tell her that he’d cared for her since the first time he’d seen her, and he couldn’t say that for three long weeks he’d thought of little else but the moment he’d almost kissed her.
Though he regretted passing on the chance to see if her lips held the sweetness they promised, it was best for everyone that his sanity had returned in time. He knew that she’d wanted that kiss as much as he did, but he was also aware that sometimes in situations like theirs affections got misplaced. He didn’t want her to make the mistake of thinking she cared for him when in reality it was nothing but gratitude.
“How many women want to get involved with a man who’s been in prison?”
She frowned. “I don’t think people think of you in that way. More than likely they think of you as the man who rescued me and my children and saved Colt’s life.”
Ace nodded slowly. “Ah, so that’s what you’re calling it now instead of me killing your husband,” he said, determined to make her see the reality of what had happened.
“That’s not how it was. It was self-defense. Everyone says so,” she argued. “Besides, you saved lives besides yours.”
“Trying to make me a hero again, Meg?”
“You’re my hero.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Ace saw that she regretted them. So did he. He was no hero, and no one knew it any better than he did. Still, he wished the words were true.
He leaped to his feet so fast she gasped. Turning his back to her, he stared into the fire as if he thought he could find some sort of answer in its flickering depths. That failing, he drew in a couple of deep lungfuls of air to clear his mind and refocus his thoughts.
“The fair maiden isn’t usually afraid of her hero,” he said mockingly without turning to look at her.
He heard her small, embarrassed laugh.
“If you’re no hero, I’m certainly no fair maiden, but I am still a little fearful.”
“Only a little?”
“Only a little.”
“What else do you want from me, Meg?” he asked, needing to know, yet fearing the answer, since he knew that any way she responded would not lead to the conclusion he wanted.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you want besides my...help?”
“For starters, I want you to tell me what’s wrong with me.”
He turned to look at her. “Wrong with you? I’m not sure I understand.”
“Well,” she said with a hesitant shrug, “Elton...was never happy with anything I did, and you...you were going to...to k...kiss me and you stopped, so I figured there’s something wrong with me.” She’d stood as she spoke, leaving the quilt behind. She tipped back her chin to a determined angle as she faced him.
“Are we about to have the conversation about my...stuffiness?” he asked, unable to suppress a hint of a smile.
“I believe we are,” she told him, moving closer. “After what I went through growing up, I’d be the last person to look down on anyone that way. We’re not responsible for our parents’ sins and they aren’t responsible for ours.
“That may be what the Bible says, but that doesn’t stop people from feeling differently.”
“You have a point,” he told her, knowing that she was right.
“All right,” she said, forgin
g ahead in a way that surprised him. “You said the timing was bad. Why?”
“Because it was. Elton—”
“Had only been dead a short time,” she interrupted. “I know that. I thought you were saying in a nice way that I was too bold.”
“You, bold?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrows.
“Well, I did encourage...things. It’s just that I haven’t loved Elton for a very long time, so it didn’t seem too soon at all to me.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What a muddle! “Look, Meg,” he said, trying once more to make her see the reality of their situation—or maybe it was himself he was trying to convince. “When people go through difficult incidents together, their thinking can go awry and they sometimes misinterpret a situation.”
“Did I misinterpret?” Without allowing him time to reply, she took another step toward him, looking up at him in the dim light of the fire. “I don’t have much experience with men, but it felt...right.”
Ace closed his eyes. He was doomed, he thought, unaware that he reached out and curled his hands over her shoulders. Without knowing quite how it happened, he realized that he was holding her in a close embrace. Her arms were tight around his middle and her cheek was pressed against his chest. In the sweetness of that moment, when he let down his guard to reveal his own vulnerability, he knew without a doubt how much he loved her.
With a sigh of surrender, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. Her arms tightened around him and he wished she could stay in his arms forever, shielded from any harm. Safe.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, more to himself and the night than to her.
* * *
Love me.
Meg wanted to say it, but she knew she couldn’t make him love her any more than she could force the sun to rise in the west. He would either return her feelings or he wouldn’t.
She understood all that, but none of it mattered. Not now. Instead, she pressed closer. She was so wrapped up in the mixed emotions racing through her she almost missed what he said.
“No.”
“What?” she asked, drawing back to look at him.
Ace tucked a silvery strand of her straight blond hair behind her ear. “You didn’t misinterpret.”
Did this mean that he cared for her, too? Oh, she hoped so! Even though she had more healing to do before she was truly whole, Meg was pretty sure her feelings for him wouldn’t change, but there was no guarantee that he would ever feel more than this...whatever it was, for her.
She couldn’t let this moment pass by. It might be the only thing she had to remember him by. “Then don’t be stuffy,” she begged. “Please.”
“Meg...”
She curled her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “Please.”
He gave another of those soft moans, and then she felt his lips touch hers.
For such a hard man, the touch of his mouth was incredibly soft. A revelation. Accustomed as Ace was to physical demands, his lips communicated controlled longing as well as tenderness. She felt cherished, special, as if she had worth to him. It was her turn to groan in protest when his hands slid to her shoulders and he stepped back, lifting his mouth from hers.
Meg’s lips felt as if they’d been branded by his kiss. Was the wonder still coursing through her veins reflected in her eyes? Did he feel it? She stared at him, waiting for him to comment or to do something to let her know what he was feeling, what he’d felt.
No. She knew. For once he wasn’t hiding behind his expressionless shield. He looked as overwhelmed as she felt. He might have been reluctant to kiss her, but she was no innocent miss who didn’t know when a man’s emotions were involved. His had been, yet she couldn’t help wondering if she had somehow disappointed him as she so often had Elton. She wanted to ask him, but figured she’d been brazen enough for one night.
The sound of the door closing sent them jumping apart. Nita was coming down the steps with the tea. Had she seen them?
“Are you two freezing?” she asked, handing them each a large cup.
“It’s not too bad,” Ace said.
Was it Meg’s imagination, or was his voice huskier than usual?
“I’m warm enough,” Meg added.
Nita crossed her arms and tipped back her head to look up at the sky. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” she asked on an exhaled breath.
“It is,” Meg agreed, following her example.
“I never grow tired of looking at it.”
Meg didn’t want to admit that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d really looked up at the night sky. Probably not since before she married. Once she and Elton had tied the knot, she’d been too busy with work and babies, or just too plain worn-out to want to sit outside, drink tea and stargaze.
She remembered when she was about fifteen or so, Aunt Serena had told her to look up at the night sky. As Meg had been trying to take in its vast beauty, her aunt had told her that if God could make all of that from nothing, He could take care of any problems they might have.
Funny that she’d forgotten that until this moment. That she hadn’t remembered such a wise statement was a shame, just as it was a shame that she had so seldom looked up. She vowed to do better.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to your visiting,” Nita said, turning back toward the house and pulling Meg’s attention back to the present.
Once the door had closed behind her, Meg said, “She’s a wonderful woman.”
“She is,” Ace agreed. “She thinks you’re pretty wonderful, too.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Can’t you, Meg? How can you think of what you’ve accomplished in spite of everything you’ve been through and not know that there are few women who could do the same?”
“The same way you can’t see that in spite of everything you’ve been through, you’re a pretty remarkable man, I suppose,” the new, bold Meg dared to say.
He didn’t reply, and there was no hint of what he was feeling on his face. For several seconds they stood looking at each other and Meg was tense with anticipation that he might kiss her again.
Finally, when the silence stretched out unbearably, she took a sip of her sassafras tea and pasted a false smile on her lips. “So tell me again why you’ve never married.”
“Because until now I’ve never met a woman who was everything I wanted and needed.”
Meg froze. It felt as if the world were suddenly empty of air. He couldn’t possibly mean her, could he? Once again she was afraid to ask. So much for her newfound courage.
“Why do you look so confused?” he asked. “After that kiss there can’t be any doubt in your mind who I’m talking about or how I feel.”
“Are you saying that you care for me?” Her voice was so small the vast darkness almost swallowed it up.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to do anything about it.”
He sounded defeated.
“Why are you acting as if...caring for me is a bad thing?” she asked. “You must know that I...I care for you, too.”
Ace flung the contents of his cup into the night and set the mug on the log. “Do you, Meg?” he asked. “You’ve spent almost four years in a marriage that was little more than a prison. Now you’ve been let out and the freedom must be overwhelming. Maybe you just fancy that you care for me because I’m the first man to treat you well.”
She opened her mouth to deny the charge, but realized he had a point. The knowledge that Elton would never deal her any more grief was liberating in ways she was only now beginning to understand. She could do or be whatever she wanted, go wherever she pleased, without fear of punishment. But Ace was right. Sometimes that newly found freedom was a little frightening. How could he know that?
Because he’s been where you are
.
He could be right about something else. Was she mistaking her feelings for love when they were nothing but gratitude? She didn’t think so, but how could she know for sure? Her head spun with conflicting emotions as she struggled to put all the pieces together.
“You say you care for me. Why don’t you want me to care for you?”
“You’re very vulnerable right now, Meg. Everyone keeps saying it, but I’m not sure you really grasp that you can’t get over the things you’ve been through in a matter of weeks.”
Her mind whirled. Something else to consider. Maybe she should give more thought to what both he and Aunt Serena were saying. Maybe she did need more time to recover from her past, time to figure out who she was and what she wanted to do with her life. She was trying to build a future. She couldn’t make any more mistakes.
“It may take years,” Ace was saying, “and until you can stand on your own two feet and know in your heart and your mind that you don’t need a man to take care of you, I’m not sure you’ll be ready for involvement with someone else.”
* * *
Ace was up half the night reliving his conversation with Meg as well as the kiss. It was everything he’d expected, which was why he’d done his level best to nip anything more between them in the bud. A romance between them would never work. She might say she didn’t blame him for Elton’s death, but he wondered if she could ever truly forget it. Was that something she’d bring up every time they got into an argument?
Besides, he had his own reasons. As much as he cared for her and wanted to make her his wife, he couldn’t bear the thought of putting her and those sweet kids in a position where they would be talked about behind their backs, especially after he’d heard Meg tell his mother how much she hated being the subject of everyone’s conversation.
He remembered a talk he’d had with his father once after a particularly nasty incident in the town where they’d lived at the time. Yancy had been heartbroken because Ace and Nita had been the subject of whispers and ridicule. Ace, who had been fourteen or fifteen, had confronted his father.
“Why did you marry her if you knew people would make fun of her—and you?” he’d demanded, getting right up into his father’s face. “Why didn’t you marry an Irish girl?”
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