A Gift from the Past (8 page)

So, he bit back the words and instead spoke of his love and his passion with his actions. As his mouth moved down her neck, across her collarbone to her naked breast, her fingers tangled in his hair.

He felt her swift intake of breath as his tongue teased the rosy tip and her fingers tightened their grasp on his hair. He moved his fingers to the waistband of her jean shorts, his intention to unfasten them and sweep them down her long legs.

As his fingers touched the snap, her hand covered his and the glaze in her eyes cleared. She pushed against him and he immediately sat up.

“I'm sorry,” she said as she crossed her arms over her naked breasts. “I…I'm not ready for this…I can't…”

“No, it's all right,” he said despite the vast disappointment that swept through him. Too fast, he told himself. He'd tried to move things far too fast. “I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do.”

“I shouldn't have allowed things to go as far as
they did,” she said, her cheeks pinked and her gaze averted from his.

“It's all right, Cookie…really.”

Awkwardly, she scooted past him and off the bed and quickly grabbed her bra and her tank top, then disappeared into the bathroom.

He grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it on, wondering how long he'd have to stand beneath a cold shower to douse the desire that still rocketed through his veins.

He should have known that it was too soon for lovemaking. He'd been back just a little over a week and in that time they'd had few occasions to recreate the bond they'd once had.

What he needed to do was romance his wife. He needed to court her, to bring back the magic they'd once had. He needed to make her fall in love with him all over again.

 

“I got pains where I didn't know I had body,” Sarge complained as they finished up dinner that evening. Joshua had gone to get him soon after the scene in the bedroom and Claire had been grateful for the time alone to sort out her feelings where Joshua was concerned.

“That's good,” Joshua said. “That means they were working muscles that needed to be worked.”

“Hmm, it's nothing more than a legal form of torture,” Sarge replied.

Claire smiled and got up to begin clearing the
table. Sarge might be doing a lot of complaining, but his color was good and he seemed more animated than he had in weeks.

“I made arrangements for one of them fancy vans to pick me up in the mornings and take me to therapy, then bring me home in the afternoons,” he continued. “Figured that way I wouldn't be putting anybody out, and besides, the folks at the hospital told me it was a free service.”

“That's great, Sarge,” Claire replied. “And now, why don't you two go on into the living room and let me clean up in here.”

“Yeah, I'm ready for a little television,” Sarge said.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief as the two men left her alone. She'd thought she'd been sensitive to Joshua's nearness in the past week, but since their afternoon intimacy, she was on edge as she hadn't been before.

Fortunately, Joshua hadn't pressed the issue when she'd come out of the bathroom after dressing, and within minutes, had left to get Sarge from the hospital.

Before she could get the table cleared off, Joshua returned to the kitchen. “Let me help,” he said and picked up the last two remaining glasses.

“That's not necessary,” she protested, not wanting to spend a second alone with him. At the moment she felt far too vulnerable.

He placed the glasses in the sink with the other
dirty dishes. “How about you rinse and I'll load the dishwasher?” he said.

What could she say? It would be churlish for her to reject his offer to help. She began rinsing off the dishes and handing them to him one at a time.

“I think it's a great sign that Sarge has arranged for his own transportation to and from the hospital,” he said.

“It shows he's starting to think about a little independence.”

“It will make it easier for me to work at City Hall without having to worry about getting him to and from therapy,” she admitted, then added, “I worry about him, you know. He just hasn't been himself since the stroke.”

She couldn't help but notice that each time Joshua took a dish from her his fingers seemed to linger a nanosecond too long on hers.

“Sarge is going to be just fine, Claire. He's a survivor. He'll get out of that wheelchair in no time now that he's going to therapy.”

She nodded. All she wanted to do was get the dishes done and get out of the kitchen, away from Joshua's nearness.

However, even after they'd left the kitchen, his presence continued to disturb her peace of mind. As they watched television she felt his gaze lingering on her and when their eyes met, she saw desire shining from the depths of his.

She was more than grateful when Sarge asked
her to help him to bed. Once she got him settled in she would be able to escape to the privacy of her bedroom.

She helped Sarge into bed, then returned to the living room. “I think I'm going to call it a night, too,” she said to Joshua, who had moved from a chair to the sofa.

He frowned, obviously disappointed. “So early? I thought maybe we could watch a movie together. You used to love watching movies in the evenings. I could pop some popcorn…extra butter,” he cajoled.

How tempting it was to curl up on the sofa in his arms and watch a sappy movie while eating popcorn. How many nights had they spent doing that very thing when they'd first gotten married? A hundred?

“Thanks, but I'm really tired,” she said. “Good night, Joshua.”

“Good night, Claire.” His voice held a wistful appeal that tugged at her heart, but she turned and raced down the hallway to her bedroom.

Once there, she undressed and pulled on her nightshirt, seeking the same kind of comfort from the familiar cotton material that she'd found that afternoon in his arms. But of course, the two couldn't really be compared.

She moved to the window and peered out at night falling. Deep-purple clouds chased across the sky, banishing the last of day's light.

Painfully, she contemplated the realization that she was still very much in love with her husband. Heaven help her, she didn't want to be. She'd been fighting against it from the moment she'd seen him standing at the Dragon Tree, attempting to dig up the treasure she sought.

She moved away from the window and sat on the edge of her bed, the same bed where she and Joshua had come precariously close to making love that afternoon.

She still loved Joshua—as deeply, as profoundly as she had over five years ago. When he'd left her, she'd believed her love had disappeared, died beneath the anguish of his desertion. But she'd been wrong.

It would have been so easy to give in to their lovemaking that afternoon, so easy to lose herself in her desire for him. But she knew that was the worst possible thing that could have happened.

She leaned forward and opened the drawer next to her bed and pulled out a small snapshot. It was a picture of the three of them—herself, Joshua and Sammy. Sammy was in one of Joshua's arms and his other arm was thrown around her shoulder.

It was a picture of a happy family. But the picture was outdated, for the happy family no longer existed. The little boy had died, the man had gone away and the woman had been left alone to cope with the bitter remains.

She traced a trembling finger over Sammy's lit
tle face, then drew her finger back as if it had been burned. She put the picture back in the drawer, unwilling to look at it for too long a time, afraid of the emotions staring at the picture might evoke in her.

Joshua had said that Sarge was a survivor and that was true. But she was a survivor, too. She'd survived the loss of her son and abandonment by her husband, and she had sworn that she would never again put herself in a position to suffer that kind of loss.

She knew that part of Joshua's dream for the future was children, and she had made the decision that there would be no more children in her life.

She didn't know what had driven him back here to Mayfield, but assumed it had to be loneliness and the fact that their marital status was, for all intents and purposes, in limbo. It was also obvious from the way he'd been acting that he wouldn't mind resuming their life as a married couple. But she couldn't do that.

Joshua had married her because she was pregnant, and when there was no more baby, there had been no more Joshua. Yes, she was still in love with her husband, but there was no way they'd ever share a future together.

She couldn't forget that he'd left her before and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't walk away from her again. And the next time she just might not survive.

“I
want to cook dinner for Sarge this evening and I'd like the two of you to get lost.” Wilma Iverson looked at Joshua, then at Claire, her cheeks reddening as she waited for a reply.

Joshua was just grateful she didn't wink at him. They'd met earlier that morning as they'd both gone outside to get their papers and together had cooked up a scheme that might serve both their interests. Wilma wanted some quality time alone with Sarge, and Joshua wanted the same with Claire.

Claire frowned. “Sarge is so tired after his physical therapy sessions, I don't know if tonight…”

“I reckon he's got to eat whether he's tired or not,” Wilma replied. “Now, all I'm asking is that
the two of you let us old folks have a little time alone.”

She smoothed the skirt of her blue-flowered dress, then reached up to pat an errant gray hair into place. “And I've got your evening all planned. I made reservations for the two of you down at the Onion Patch. And don't give me any nonsense about not going. I had to twist a few arms to get the table for you.”

Joshua eyed the older woman with surprise; she hadn't mentioned that she intended to arrange where he and Claire would go.

“The Onion Patch? I'm surprised that place is still open.”

“Still open and one of the most popular places in this one-horse town,” Wilma replied. “Most evenings it's almost impossible to get a table for dinner.”

Joshua looked at Claire. It was obvious from the expression on her face that she wasn't pleased with this turn of events. “I don't think…” she began.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Claire. It's just a couple of hours,” Wilma interjected before Claire could finish her protest. “I've already gone to a lot of trouble to see that you and Joshua will be taken care of while I take care of your grandfather.”

Claire threw her hands in the air. “All right.” She looked from Wilma to Joshua. “Then I suppose we'll go to the Onion Patch.”

“Good. I'll be over here about five to start cook
ing. I know Sarge likes to eat around six.” Wilma picked up her purse from their kitchen table. “And now I'm off to the grocery store to pick up a few things. I'll see you two this evening.”

“I told you I smelled a romance brewing,” Joshua said when the front door had opened and closed, indicating that Wilma had left the house. He gestured toward Claire's empty glass. “Want some more iced tea?”

Joshua had been working out in the yard most of the morning and had come inside for a cold drink. He and Claire had been at the table when Wilma had arrived.

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I need to get back to work. I've got laundry to do and I want to change Sarge's sheets on his bed while he's gone.”

“Need some help?”

“No.” She got up from the table and placed her empty glass in the dishwasher. “I can't believe I'm being shoved out of my own home by my pushy next-door neighbor.” Her nose wrinkled, a gesture Joshua remembered always indicated she was cranky.

“We don't have to go to the Onion Patch if you don't want to,” he said. “We could just walk around downtown then get a bite to eat in the café.”

She sighed, her frown deepening. “No, if I have to leave the house I might as well get something good to eat, and the Onion Patch has the best food
in town. And now I've got to get to work.” She left the kitchen and Joshua stared down into his iced tea.

Claire had been extremely distant and cool toward him from the moment she'd gotten out of bed that morning. He wanted to romance her, to court her, but it was difficult when she remained aloof.

Tonight he intended to tell her he still loved her with all his heart. Tonight he meant to tell her that he wanted the two of them to try again, to resolve their past issues and build a future together forever and always.

He just hoped that little wrinkle in her nose was gone by this evening. If she were cranky, she wouldn't want to hear anything he had to say to her. And what he wanted to say was too important for her not to listen. It wasn't just his feelings he wanted to talk about, it was the rest of his life.

The rest of his life.
The words resounded in his head, mingling with the beat of his heart. He couldn't imagine the emptiness of his life without Claire.

He'd already wasted far too much time, allowing pride and anger and heartache to keep him away. It was past time to move on with the rest of his life and the only way he wanted to do it was with Claire at his side.

He worked in the yard until three that afternoon, then went inside to shower and prepare for the evening with Claire.

Sarge had gotten home a few minutes before and sat in the living room listening to talk radio. He turned his head as Joshua came into the room.

“I hear you two are leaving me at the hands of that woman next door tonight,” he said.

“She wanted to cook dinner for you this evening,” Joshua said. “I think she likes you, Sarge.”

Sarge snorted. “What on earth could she like about a grouchy, old, half-crippled blind man?”

Joshua laughed. “I'd say that, despite all that, you have a certain charm about you. Would you rather Claire and I stay here?” Although Joshua didn't want to stay, he would never put Sarge in a position where he might be uncomfortable.

“Nah, I suppose I can tolerate Wilma for a few hours alone. Despite the fact that she can be opinionated and stubborn, she cooks like an angel, and I suppose she likes having somebody to fuss over. Besides, she can be good company. We remember the same things, come from the same era.”

He didn't sound like a man who was dreading the night to come, Joshua thought with relief. “I'd better go get into the shower.”

“Where are you and Cookie heading?”

“The Onion Patch.”

Sarge nodded. “Good. As I recall, the two of you used to like to go out there and kick up your heels a bit.” He nodded his head. “Dance with her, Joshua. Take her dancing and make her laugh.”

“I'll do my best, Sarge,” he said.

“You do better than that,” the old man said with surprising firmness. “You love her, don't you?”

“More than anything or anyone else in the world.” Speaking of his love for Claire aloud filled him with a rich elation. “I want it back, Sarge, the life we had. I want a future with her.” Emotion welled up inside him, clogging his throat for a long moment. “I love her, Sarge, and I can't imagine a future without her.”

“She needs you, boy. She might not know it, but she does. She hasn't been the same since you left here. Something broke inside her and I don't think anyone can fix it but you.”

Sarge raked a hand through his thin white hair. “Life kicked you in the teeth when little Sammy died. You were just kids, not equipped to handle something as horrible as having to bury your child. I don't know exactly what happened to drive you two apart, but I do know that Cookie needs you now more than ever.”

“I hope you're right,” Joshua replied fervently.

Minutes later as Joshua stood beneath the shower spray, he thought of everything Sarge had said. Sarge seemed to think Claire needed him and Wilma had intimated the same. But Joshua wasn't sure about anything…especially not about what Claire had ever needed.

He fought a wave of guilt that washed over him.
Sarge's request that he take Claire out dancing and make her laugh was similar to what Wilma had said, that Claire had spent far too long a time cooped up in this house acting as caretaker.

If he hadn't left her all those years ago, he might have been here to help her cope, to ease her burden. Sure, in the years he'd been away he'd become a wealthy man, but no amount of money could replace the years she'd lost—the years
they
had lost.

He was suddenly struck by the fact that she hadn't had a phone call or a visit from a friend in the time he'd been here. What had happened to the girlfriends that had once called her daily, the friends she'd often met for lunch? He made a mental note to ask her about them.

He'd take her to the Onion Patch tonight; they'd dance on the old straw-strewn floor and eat the best steaks in the world. He'd tell her bad jokes, sing her silly ditties, do whatever it took to make those smoke-gray eyes of hers dance with laughter.

After they'd danced, and eaten and laughed, then he'd tell her his dream for their future. He hoped and he prayed that her dream was the same.

 

Although Claire tried to tell herself she didn't want to go out, that she was going to hate every moment spent in Joshua's company, the truth was that there was a tiny part of her that was looking forward to getting out of the house on a beautiful
summer evening. Tonight would be a gift to herself. She would allow herself to enjoy being at the Onion Patch, she would have fun and not think of the past or the future.

She frowned at her reflection in the mirror, an ache piercing her at this thought. She'd married Joshua with the desire for the two of them to enjoy a happily-ever-after. But Sammy's death and Joshua's desertion had changed everything. She no longer looked for a happily-ever-after.

She shoved these thoughts away and focused on her appearance. She'd chosen to wear a turquoise sundress. The neckline was square-cut, the bodice was fitted and the skirt was flared, ending at her knees. Her hair was braided down her back and tiny gold hoops decorated her dainty earlobes.

As she turned away from the dresser, her gaze fell on the tin box that contained the photo of Sarah and Daniel. An impulse to open the box and take out the picture swept over her, but she ignored it.

She was half-afraid to look at it again, knowing that it was possible it might have changed yet once more. She no longer asked herself how it was possible that an old photograph could transform itself.

She didn't know how it was possible, she only knew that it was. And somehow she had begun to believe that the photo was a reflection of her relationship with Joshua.

When they had first found the photo, on the day that Joshua had arrived back in Mayfield, the cou
ple in the picture had shown an emotional distance from one another. Then, when she'd gotten the feeling that Joshua still cared for her, when she'd seen the look of desire shining from his eyes, the photo had changed to reflect the same thing in Daniel's posture and expression.

She didn't want to look at the picture again because she feared she'd see her own love for Joshua shining from Sarah's eyes where it hadn't been before. As crazy as it sounded, she didn't want a magic picture to confirm what she felt in her heart for Joshua.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door. “Yes?”

“Wilma is here. Are you ready to go?” Joshua's strong voice came through the closed door.

“I'm ready.” She grabbed her purse from the bed then opened the door to see him standing there.

Her breath momentarily caught in her throat at the sight of him. He wore a pair of navy dress slacks and a light-blue short-sleeve dress shirt. The color of the shirt intensified the green of his eyes and accented the darkness of his hair. He looked as handsome as she'd ever seen him.

“You look beautiful, Cookie,” he said softly, his eyes caressing her with a heated gaze.

“Why, thank you, sir. You clean up right nice, too,” she said with a forced lightness of tone.

As they walked down the hallway, she could hear the clang of pots and pans coming from the
kitchen and Wilma chattering about a recipe she'd seen on a television cooking program.

“We're leaving,” Claire said as they entered the kitchen where Wilma bustled from the counter to the stove and Sarge sat at the kitchen table, a be-mused expression on his face.

He raised a hand and nodded. “Have fun.”

“And don't worry about a thing here,” Wilma said. “I've got a gourmet meal planned for the two of us and after dinner I brought some tapes of some old radio shows I thought we might listen to.”

She apparently had the entire night planned, Claire thought in surprise and realized Joshua had been right. It seemed that Wilma had set her cap for Sarge.

Murmuring their goodbyes, Joshua and Claire left the house. Joshua's car awaited them in the driveway. Joshua opened the passenger door for her and she slid in, then watched as he walked around the front of the car to the driver's door.

The last thing she wanted to be doing was going to the Onion Patch with Joshua, but because Wilma had made the arrangements it had been difficult for Claire to say no.

Surely she could enjoy the evening despite the company she kept, she told herself.

He slid behind the wheel, bringing with him the evocative scent that made her pulse beat just a little bit faster than normal. She fastened her seat belt
as he pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the north edge of town.

“I was surprised when Wilma said she'd made reservations for us at the Onion Patch,” he said. “I figured the place would have closed down long ago.”

She smiled. “It's the only place to go to dance and hear live music.”

“Does Freddy still own it?”

“Freddy is as much a fixture as the onions he's got hanging from the ceiling,” she replied.

“He was always good about letting us come in even though we were underage,” Joshua said.

“But he would have killed us if he'd ever caught us with a drink in our hands.”

“You've got that right,” Joshua said with a laugh. “And he had the reputation that made me think he could kill us without blinking an eye.”

“I think Freddy's reputation is all of his own making.” She felt herself relaxing with the innocuous topic of conversation. “He has all those awful-looking tattoos and he's big as a horse, but for as long as he's lived in town, nobody has ever had any problems with him.”

She relaxed even more as he began asking her about other people in town. “What about Susan Kelly? The two of you used to be really tight. What happened to her?” he asked.