A Love So Strong

by Kathryn Shay

  Jase shook his head. Suddenly he seemed old, and weary, too. "No, I'm remembering when my wife died. I knew then that I'd give anything to keep her with me even for one more day. I had no control over that. But you do with this situation. Fate took Mary away from me. You can alter this thing with Jill."

  Riley just stared at him. Jase stood. "Well, think about it anyway. Oh, and Mick called. He asked if you could come over."

  “To his house?"

  "Yeah, as soon as you got in."

  "Do you think Jill's there?"

  "I don't know, Riley. But the look on your face tells me I'm right about reconsidering the divorce." With that, his friend left him alone.

  He wouldn't reconsider divorcing her, or at least he tried not to. He got out some work, made some phone calls—not to Mick—and refused to think about Jill. Stricken. Jittery. Damn it! About ten, he got up and went to the break room for more coffee.

  Where he bumped into Rafe Santilli. The guy was pouring some of his own brew, and stepped away from the pot when he finished. He and Riley had been forced to be civil to each other because they were colleagues, but the sight of Jill's lover caused a sick feeling in his stomach. Usually Santilli made himself scarce. Not today. Instead, he leaned against the wall, and scanned the area. No one was around.

  "I heard," Santilli said, his voice gravelly.

  No use pretending. "About her resignation?"

  "Yeah." Riley would give the man credit; he didn't look away. "I feel bad about all this," Rafe said awkwardly, in that way men had when talking about personal things.

  "It's water under the bridge."

  "No, not since she came back last week. Marietta said Jill told her she wanted another chance with you."

  "It's too late for that."

  "I'm sorry, man." He ran a hand through his thick hair. "I don't know what I would have done if Mar hadn't forgiven me."

  Riley swallowed hard. "You're one of the lucky ones, I guess."

  "Yeah, I guess." He started to walk away, but turned at the doorway to the break room. "She cried, you know."

  "Who? Your wife?"

  "No, yours. Afterward. She was horrified at what she'd done. So was I, but she was almost destroyed. She told me how much she loved you, asked why we'd done something like this. Something neither of us really seemed to want."

  Riley's heart clutched in his chest. "Why did you?"

  "Because we were confused. And stupid. And human, I guess." He hesitated. "I know those reasons can't account for what we did. Marietta already told me that. Still, in the end, she forgave me. All I can do is spend the rest of my life trying to atone for my actions with Jill." He stared hard at Riley. "I wish you'd give her the same chance."

  Rafe left the break room, and after a bit, Riley followed him out. When he got back to his office, he was surprised to see that his grandfather was there, by the window, staring out.

  Pivoting, Mick faced him. "Why the hell didn't you come over like I asked?" he said angrily.

  Shaken by his conversation with Rafe, Riley crossed to his desk. "I'm raw. I don't want to talk about Jill." But it was a lie. He did.

  "Well, that's too bad. I've got something to say and you're going to listen." He glanced at his watch. “I just hope it's not too late."

  “Too late?"

  "She's leaving town this morning. She was headed for her sister's and then the airport."

  "Where's she going?”

  "Back to Paris."

  Paris, where they'd spent their honeymoon. And promised to stay together in sickness and in health, in good times and bad.

  "Her plane leaves in a couple of hours." Mick's expression was pitying.

  Riley swallowed his disappointment. "What do you want to say to me?"

  The old man reached down and picked up his briefcase. From inside he withdrew something. "First look at these."

  oOo

  In his office, standing by his desk, Riley stared at the stack of letters Mick held in his old and weathered hands. There had to be at least fifty of them there, tied up with string. "What are they?" Riley asked.

  His grandfather straightened his shoulders and placed the pile on Riley's desk. "Jill's letters to me the last year."

  Mick and I corresponded while I was gone.

  Riley was astounded by the volume.

  Mick said, "Sit down and read those, boy. Maybe it will knock some sense into your head. I'll go get coffee." Mick left him alone. With Jill’s letters.

  Riley dropped down at his desk. Gingerly he untied the stack and picked up the first piece of correspondence. It was dated October. A month after she left. He opened the envelope.

  The words were handwritten, not typed, and so it was more personal. Her lovely feminine scrawl made his heart clench. So did what she'd written. I hurt so much, Mick. What have I done? How could I have cheated on the only man I ever loved?

  Another, a week later…I can't stop the pain. Is he feeling this bad? Help him, please. I can't stand the thought of him suffering like this.

  Slowly, he perused some of the others. Why is it that you don’t realize what you had until you lose it?…I keep thinking about all the good times and wondering why we let the problems get so out of hand.

  Riley had wondered that, too. Some things had been so right between them. He read another…I can't bear the thought of going out with anybody else…Is he dating?…Does he ever talk about me?

  Riley had tried dating, tried to get close to other women physically. But it didn't work for him. Or for her, apparently. Another letter…This morning, I saw a little boy by the Seine. He looked so much like Riley I cried all day thinking about never having his baby.

  They should have had a child. It would have forced them to stay together, forced them to have been more flexible and understanding with each other. They should have been able to accept their differences.

  He read several more, then found the last ones…I'm beginning to feel better, stronger, but I'll never get over him…I've been giving your suggestion a lot of thought…Do you really believe I should come home before the divorce is final? Is that what's best for him, Mick?

  Riley looked up, his eyes stinging, his throat tight. Mick had come in and was standing on the other side of the room drinking from a mug. "This was going on the whole time she was gone?”

  "Yes."

  He tried to sound stern, but even to his own ears, his voice was raw. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You weren't ready to know."

  "You suggested she come back to Hyde Point."

  "Yep."

  "You knew it would hurt me."

  "I knew you were making a mistake. I raised you from the time you were six, boy. I have a right to try to keep you from ruining your life." He glanced at the clock. "So, if you're going to rectify this whole situation, you'd better get to the airport. She'll be gone soon."

  Riley swallowed hard. Could he do this? Could he risk his heart again with the very woman who had trampled on it?

  oOo

  Jill sat inside the airport at a table with her sister. "Don't do this, honey." Molly's voice pierced the daze Jill had been in since she'd left Riley this morning. She preferred the fuzzy lack of awareness to the pain that settled upon her as soon as her head cleared.

  "I have to leave. It's the least I can do for him." She sat back in the blue vinyl chair, her eyes gritty, her shoulders aching. She tried to relax, but every time she let her mind go, she thought of last night and Riley's tender lovemaking, his need, his passion. She could hardly catch her breath with the sense of loss.

  "Just stay for a few weeks. Give him a chance to reconsider."

  "No, that wouldn't be fair."

  Damn it, she would leave here. Just as she promised him she would. Because she had changed. She wasn't the selfish young woman of ten months ago who didn't put Riley's needs above her own. He wanted her gone and she'd go. She'd do this if it killed her. Which it very well might.

  Molly grasped her hand. Her eyes were
worried. "I don't think you should give up."

  "He's given up, Mol. After all I've done to him, I don't blame him." She gripped her sister's hand. "Now, I've got to get to the gate, and you can't come that far without a ticket." They stood and Jill felt her knees wobble; she reached out and hugged Molly hard. "Come see me soon?"

  Molly's voice was threaded with tears. "I will. Take care, sis."

  Jill couldn't answer. Instead, she headed through the terminal, endured the search and baggage check of the security monitors and made her way to the plane. It was all so final she could barely contain her feelings.

  She reached the gate just as the PA came on. "Flight 786 to New York and on to Paris is now boarding. First class passengers…"

  Jill tried to listen to the directions, tried to blank her mind of Riley. Maybe once she got out of Hyde Point, she'd start forgetting him. What his face looked like before he kissed her. How his baby blues darkened when she touched him intimately. The way he turned to her in the night. Arrgh…she had to stop this.

  She made her way to the counter and had just gotten to the entrance. As she was about to hand the flight attendant her boarding pass, she heard, "Jilly!"

  Her whole body froze.

  "Miss, are you all right?" the attendant asked.

  Jill pivoted.

  And couldn't believe her eyes. Riley stood about twenty feet away. But that couldn't be. He couldn't get to the gates. She blinked. He was there. Coming closer. His big masculine strides quickly ate up the distance between them.

  "Miss, you'll have to board or step aside." The attendant's voice was concerned.

  Jill obediently stepped aside. Riley stopped a few yards from her. He looked beautiful, dressed in a lightweight navy suit, white shirt and tie. His hair was windblown, his cheeks ruddy. From running? And those eyes…they were shining with something she didn't dare name, didn't dare hope was in them. She said simply, "Rye?"

  He held up his hand. "I had to buy a ticket to get in here."

  She gulped. "Why…why are you here?"

  "Because I couldn't…I need…" He shook his head, let the ticket fall to the floor and dragged something out of his breast pocket.

  “What's that?" she asked.

  Slowly, his big hands, that had loved her so tenderly just hours ago, ripped the papers in half. In quarters. Soon the sheaf was in shreds. Like confetti, he tossed them into the air, astounding her with the mess he made. “They’re our divorce papers."

  Emotion erupted from inside her. Her eyes moistened and she began to tremble again.

  He held out his arms. "Come here, Jilly."

  He didn't have to ask twice. Dropping her carry-on and purse, she bolted to him. He grabbed her and lifted her up. Her arms headlocked him. Her legs clamped around his waist. He held her like a drowning man finally finding purchase. Kissing her hair, her jaw, the fold of her neck, he pulled her so close she almost couldn't breathe.

  Like that, they stumbled to the chairs on the side of the terminal. He sat down, still holding her, and nestled her on his lap. She was crying now, and she felt the tremors go through him, too. For a long time, they just held on to each other, her face nuzzled in his chest, his buried in her hair.

  Then he whispered in her ear, "Don't go. Don't leave me. I want to try again."

  She cried so hard at that she soaked his suit. She clutched at his lapels, probably ruining them.

  He soothed his hand down her hair. "We'll do better, okay? We'll talk, we'll share our fears." His voice was throaty. "We won't be stubborn or stupid about things that don't matter."

  Unable to speak, she just nodded.

  "We'll go back to Paris, and start over." His mouth found her ear, his breath as sweet as his words. "Maybe we'll make that baby there."

  Finally, Jill could look up at him. There was so much love shining in his eyes, on his face. But she had to ask. "Can you?" She choked on the words. He pulled her close to his heart again. "Can you forgive me? What I did?"

  Leaning back so he could see her face, he whispered the second-best words in the world. "Yes, I can." Then he said the first best. "I love you, Jilly. I always have and I always will."

  Opposites Attract

  Jase McKay hadn’t made many mistakes in his life. His strict minister father had seen to that. But as he looked across the small chapel in Hyde Point, New York, where his friends Riley and Jillian Sullivan were renewing their vows, he was confronted with a reminder of the biggest blunder he’d ever committed.

  Molly Kimball, Jill’s sister. Letting her go six weeks, three days and some odd hours ago had truly been the most foolish, destructive, hurtful thing he’d ever done.

  You didn’t let her go, asshole. You booted her out of your life carelessly and callously. Because he’d been afraid of what she was doing to his orderly existence. Because the importance of control, of appearances, had been irrevocably drilled into him as a youth.

  Today, all that paled in light of the ramifications of leaving her—sleepless nights, an inability to enjoy the things in life he’d worked so hard to get, and utter misery every time he saw her, like now.

  He couldn’t even think about what their abrupt split had done to her. He knew unquestionably that she’d loved him.

  Telling himself to stop with the pity party, he focused on the Sullivans. He was happy for them. God knew, they’d suffered over their own split a year ago. As Riley’s divorce lawyer and best friend—they’d been college and law school roommates, too—Jase was privy to all of it. Amidst the flickering bayberry scented candles, he listened to their pledges to each other, on the sixth anniversary of their wedding.

  "Having lost you once," Riley said in a deep voice, husky with emotion, "I promise never to do anything again to make you leave me."

  Blond and pretty, Jill wiped uncharacteristic tears from her eyes. Of course, she’d come back from their second honeymoon—two months in Paris—pregnant, so that was part of the reason for her sentimentality. "And I promise," she said softly, "to share myself with you. To let you in, no matter how hard it is."

  Jase remembered his own vows, his own wedding seven years ago. Mary Stevens had been his savior, helping him to build the life he’d wanted for himself, on board with his need to be straight arrow and conservative. He’d loved her deeply. When she’d died in a car crash, he’d wanted his own life to end with her. But he had a son, so he kept going for Tommy. And her parents, Thomas and Thea Stevens, had been a godsend. In time, the wounds of the loss of his wife had healed.

  As if drawn by a magnet, his gaze settled back on Molly. Just the sight of her made him feel as raw as knuckles scraped on sandpaper. Her waist-length, curly hair the color of caramels shone in the candlelight; her deep chestnut eyes were misty with joy. And he could swear the scent of wildflowers that always surrounded her wafted over to him. Tonight, her voluptuous body was covered with a coppery brown dress, long and flowing like most of the clothes she chose.

  Hippie clothes, he’d teased once as he unbuttoned a fringed top with beads on it.

  She grinned. I know. I belong in the sixties.

  You got that right, lady.

  He winced at the memory. He’d teased her a lot, but there was always an edge to the words. He didn’t like her clothes. Her whole lifestyle was foreign to him, and those petty grievances had driven them apart. That and her absolute refusal to compromise. In truth, Molly couldn’t accept him any more than he could accept her. Still, he’d been the one to end it. She’d wanted to work on their relationship.

  Watch this movie with me. She held up Barefoot in the Park, an old film with Robert Redford and Jane Fonda. We’re like them. Different as snow and sun. But we can make it, Jay, like they did.

  He’d watched the film and been hurt by the comparison of himself to the Redford character. I am not that inflexible…that stuffy…Hell, they’re so unmatched, why are they even together?

  Molly had just laughed and tumbled him into bed. Well, they have this in common. Like us.

&n
bsp; Her words moved him. He’d brushed the hair off her flawless face. There’s more to us than this, Mol.

  What is there, Jay?

  I love being with you. You make me feel things, see things so intensely.

  I love being with you, too. You center me.

  In the end, it hadn’t been enough, and after two months on a roller coaster of emotion, he’d broken it off, just before Jill and Riley came home. He’d been distraught in those dark days after he’d left Molly sobbing in her apartment. Abject misery had forced him to wonder if they could try harder to mesh their disparate lives. It took courage and resolve, but he finally decided living without her was untenable.

  So he’d gone back to her place, two weeks after their split, to tell her he was sorry for what he’d done, he wanted to talk more, that he’d made a mistake. Logan Kane, her friend and goddamned protector, had answered the door in her apartment over the store she operated.

  The guy had growled when he saw Jase.

  Get the hell out of here before I beat the shit out of you.

  I need to see Molly.

  You can’t.

  Look, I know you care about her. So do I.

  Kane had let loose with inventive expletives, then grabbed Jase by the shirt and thrust him against a wall outside the apartment. She’s sick, McKay. She’s been vomiting and shaking and sobbing since you dropped your little bomb a few weeks ago. I’m considering a hospital, she’s so overwrought. I swear to God, if you go near her now, I’ll take you apart.

  And because Jase loved her and still knew he might not be able to give Molly what she needed, he’d left. In the weeks since, he’d missed her so much he ached with the loss. But when she’d recovered and seemed her old self again the few times they’d bumped into each other around town, he did stay away from her. It was the only decent thing he’d ever done for her.

  Now, though his life was pretty colorless in Molly’s absence, he’d gotten back on an even keel. Thomas Stevens had even introduced him to a new attorney in town, Sarina Matthews, whom he was dating, who was here with him tonight.

  Molly looked up and caught Jase staring at her. She gave him a half smile that cut him off at the knees. There was no bitterness on her face. No indictment. Only forgiveness. And the wariness residing in a doe’s eyes when faced with a hunter’s gun. Of course there was. Molly Kimball was well aware of the fact he could—almost had—destroyed her.