Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics) (17 page)

The chicken was simmering on the stove as Carly dressed for work. The aroma of the bacon had made her feel weak with hunger. The small glass of orange juice had constituted her
entire breakfast, and dumplings were out. To be on the safe side, she stepped on the scale. Two pounds. She’d been starving herself for ten miserable days and was only down two pounds.
Some
women were naturally svelte and others had to work at it. There wasn’t any justice left in the world anymore, she grumbled on her way out the front door.

*  *  *

On her lunch break, Carly savored an apple, cutting it into thirty pieces in an effort to take her mind off how hungry she was. As part of her lunch break, Carly drove into town and bought Sara a doll, and Shawn a book on Mount McKinley. She knew so little about these two who were destined to be a major part of her life. Her nerves were crying out with vague apprehension at the coming meeting. Fleetingly, she wondered how they felt about meeting
her
.

Before returning to the office, Carly stopped off at the apartment and checked on the dinner. She reread the cookbook instructions, confident that she had done everything properly.

On the way out she stopped at the mailbox and collected the mail. Another letter from Jutta had arrived, and she ripped it open eagerly. Jutta sent her congratulations and claimed to be working on another oil painting that she thought Carly would like. She said she’d sell this one cheap.

Carly smiled, folded the letter, and placed it back inside the envelope. Jutta seemed to think the only interest Carly had in her was because of her artwork. As their friendship grew, she was certain that Jutta would feel differently.

Because she wanted Brand to be pleasantly surprised with her dinner, Carly left the office early. George was being a dear about everything, including the extra days off she needed. Carly felt like giving him a peck on the cheek as she rushed out the door, but hesitated, knowing he wouldn’t know how to react to her display of affection.

Brand got home a half hour after she did. “I’m home,” he called cheerfully.

“Hi.” She stepped from the kitchen. The corners of her mouth trembled with the effort to hold back her tears.

He stopped in the middle of the living room and sniffed the air. “Something smells bad.”

“I know.” She swallowed tightly. “I tried to cook you a special dinner. It … it didn’t work out.” She gestured with one hand in angry bewilderment. “I … I don’t know what I did
wrong.”

“Let me see,” Brand offered as he headed for the kitchen.

“No!” she cried theatrically. “Don’t go in there!”

“Carly.” He gave her a look she felt he must reserve for misbehaving children.

Bristling, she cradled her stomach with her arms and shouted at him, “Go ahead, then, have a good laugh.”

Brand’s eyes softened. “I’m not going to laugh at you.”

“Why not? It’s hilarious. How many husbands do you know who come home to be greeted with the news that their dinner’s on the ceiling?”

Brand did a poor job of disguising his amusement.

Anger swelled like a flood tide in Carly until she wanted to scream. “I’m sorry I can’t be as perfect as Sandra. I tried.” Sobs took control of her voice. “I really tried.”

“Carly.” He went pale and reached for her.

She broke from his grasp and gave way to huge hiccupping sobs, warding him off with her arm. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Each word was enunciated clearly.

Brand looked as if she’d struck him physically. He moved to the sofa and sat down. “I wondered.” His voice was husky and raw. “But I didn’t want to believe what was right in front of me.”

The tears welled up and spilled down her face as she held her breath in an effort to stop crying.

“You did all this because of Sandra?” Brand asked flatly.

Carly nodded.

“And this insane dieting is because of her as well.” It was a hard statement of fact and not a question.

“She was svelte.”

“She was
gaunt
. Cancer does that to people.” He rubbed his hand over his face. He was upset and didn’t bother to conceal it. His mouth was pinched and his eyes narrow. “What do I have to do to make you understand that I don’t want another Sandra?”

“I thought …”

“I know what you thought.” He paced the floor. “For two years I grieved for Sandra. The ache inside me was so bad I ran from my children and separated myself from the world.”

She kept her face averted, burying her chin in her shoulder. A dark curtain of hair fell forward.

“I love you, Carly. Your love has given me back my children and a reason to go on with my life. I don’t want to bury myself in the past again. With you at my side, I want to look ahead at the good life we can share.” He turned and walked over to her. “I want you. None other.” Holding her, he wove his fingers in her hair and forced her to look up at him. She couldn’t bear it and closed her eyes. Fresh tears squeezed through her lashes. Every breath was a sob.

“What I feel for you is entirely different from my love for Sandra,” he continued. “She was an only child, pampered and loved all her life. Even as a little girl she was sickly. Her family protected her, and when we married I took over that role.”

Carly made an effort to strain away from his hands, but her attempt did little good She didn’t want to hear any more about Brand’s first wife. Every word was like a knife wound.

“With Sandra, I felt protective and gentle,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “But with you I’m challenged and inspired. My love for you is deeper than anything I’d ever hoped to find on this earth. Don’t compete with a dead woman, Carly.”

She groaned with the knowledge that he was right. There was no winning if she set herself up as a replacement for Sandra. Trying desperately to stop crying, she put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she wept. “So sorry.”

“I am, too, love,” he breathed against her hair. “I should have recognized what was happening.”

“I wanted to be perfect for you and the children.”

“You are,” he whispered tenderly. “Now, let’s see what can be salvaged from your dinner.”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” She inhaled a steadying breath. “It may be far worse than you realize,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I think my dumplings may have dented the ceiling and we’ll be out the damage deposit.”

He started laughing then, uncontrollably, and soon she was laughing with him, free and content with the knowledge that she was loved for herself.

Carly’s fingers tightened around Brand’s arm. “Are you sure I look okay?”

“You’re beautiful.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re perfect. They’re going to love you.”

Carly wished she had the same unfailing optimism. Shawn and Sara would be meeting them at the Portland Airport and the FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT sign was already flashing in preparation for landing.

A thin film of nervous perspiration broke out across her upper lip and forehead, and she wiped it away with her free hand. A thousand nagging apprehensions crowded their way into her mind. The tightening sensation that attacked the pit of her stomach was identical to the one she’d experienced as a child whenever she’d been transferred into a new foster home. If she couldn’t fit in with this new family, her life would be a constant battle. The identical situation was facing her with Shawn and Sara. So much of her happiness with Brand depended on what happened this weekend.

“Carly.” Brand squeezed her hand again. “Relax. You’re as stiff as new cardboard.”

“I can’t help it.” Even her whisper was tortured. “What will we do if Shawn and Sara don’t like me?”

“But they’re going to love you,” Brand argued.

“How can you be so sure?” She knew she sounded like a frightened little girl. How could anyone who’d leaped headlong into as many adventures as she had be so terrified of two small children?

Brand tightened his hold on her fingers and raised them to his mouth to tenderly kiss the inside of her palm. “They’re going to love you because I do.”

A flood of emotion clouded her eyes. “I want to make this work, Brand,” she said, and she lowered her eyes so he couldn’t see how overemotional she was becoming. “I really do.”

“I know, love.”

Carly’s heart fell to her ankles when the plane touched down. A few minutes later, they were walking down the jetway that led to the cavernous terminal and the baggage claim area.

“Daddy, Daddy.” The high, squeaky voice of a young girl came at them the moment they
cleared the secure area.

Brand fell to one knee as blond-haired Sara threw herself into his arms. Shawn followed, and squeezed his father’s neck so tightly Carly was amazed that Brand was still breathing. With a child on each hip, Brand stood.

“Shawn and Sara, this is Carly.”

“Hi, Carly.” They spoke together and lowered their eyes shyly.

“Hello.”

“Daddy told us all about you,” Sara said eagerly.

“Did you really climb a whole mountain?” Shawn queried, with a hint of disbelief.

“It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life,” Carly confirmed. “By the time I made it down, my nose was redder than Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer’s and my lips had blisters all over them.”

“Wow.” Shawn’s big blue eyes were filled with awe. “I’d like to climb a mountain, too.”

“Someday, son,” Brand promised.

“Welcome home, Brand.” A crisp, clear voice spoke from behind them.

Carly’s attention was diverted to the older woman who stood apart from the small group. Her hair was completely gray, but her eyes were like Brand’s—only faded and with a tired, faraway look.

Brand lowered the children to the floor. “Mom, this is my wife, Carly.”

“Hello, Mrs. St. Clair.” Carly stepped forward and extended her hand.

Brand’s mother shook it politely and offered her an uncertain smile. “Please, call me Kay. With two Mrs. St. Clairs around, there’s bound to be some confusion.”

Carly’s spirits plummeted. Brand’s mother didn’t bother to disguise her lack of welcome. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

The older woman’s eyes centered on the children and softened. “Say hello to your new mother, children.”

“Hello,” they cried in unison, with eager smiles.

“I imagine you’re tired,” Kay St. Clair said conversationally on the way to pick up their luggage. “How was the flight?”

“Fine.” Carly’s mind searched frantically for something to say. “The weather certainly is nice.” Bright, sunny skies had welcomed them to Oregon.

“But then this must be paradise compared to Alaska,” Kay returned in the same bland tone she’d used earlier.

The sky had been just as blue and beautiful in Anchorage, but Carly let the subject drop. There wasn’t any reason to start off this relationship with a disagreement by comparing the two states. Indeed, Oregon was beautiful, but Alaska was equally so, only in a different way. But Carly doubted that she could explain that to Brand’s mother.

Lunch was waiting for them back at a stylish two-story brick house with a meticulously kept yard and spotless interior. The entire house was so clean that Carly thought it had probably been sterilized. Framed pictures lined the fireplace mantel in the living room. There were photographs of Brand’s two younger brothers and their families—and a picture of Brand with Sandra on their wedding day. Carly’s gaze was riveted to the picture, and the color washed from her face. Abruptly, she turned away, unable to bear the sight. By keeping the photo on the mantel, Brand’s mother had made her statement regarding Carly.

If Brand noticed how little she ate, he said nothing. Shawn and Sara carried the conversation beautifully. Their joy at seeing their father again was unabashedly enthusiastic. Carly discovered that it would be easy to love those two, and she silently prayed that they could come to love and accept her.

Kay St. Clair cleared her throat before addressing Carly. “Tell me, what did your family think of this rushed marriage?”

“My family?” Carly knew just by looking at Kay St. Clair that she was a woman who put a lot of stock in one’s background. “I’m afraid I don’t have any, Mrs. St. Clair … Kay,” she amended.

“Don’t be silly, child, of course you do. Everyone has family.”

“Carly was raised in foster homes, Mother,” Brand explained for her.

“You were orphaned?” Kay St. Clair disregarded her son and centered her full attention on Carly.

“Not exactly. I … I was taken from my mother by the state when I was Sara’s age.”

“What about your father?” Shock had whitened the aging face. Lines of disapproval wrinkled her brow as Kay St. Clair set her fork aside.

“I never knew my father.”

A soft snicker followed. “Are you sure your parents were married?”

“Mother,” Brand barked. “You’re insulting my wife.”

Carly placed a hand on his forearm and shook her head. She didn’t want to cause any discord between Brand and his mother. “As a matter of fact, I’m not completely sure that they were.”

Shawn and Sara had lowered their heads at the sound of raised voices. They sat across from Carly looking so small and frightened that her heart ached with the need to reassure them.

“I hope you like surprises.” Carly directed the comment to the children. “Because I brought you each one.”

“You did?” Shawn’s face brightened with excitement. “Can I see it?”

“Can I see mine, too?” Sara’s eyes found her grandmother’s, and some of her eagerness faded. “Please,” she added politely.

“After we finish lunch,” Carly promised, and winked.

“Both Shawn and Sara have to brush their teeth first,” Kay St. Clair inserted with a heavy note of censure.

“We never brush our teeth after lunch. Why do we have to do it today?” Shawn asked, a puzzled look in his eyes.

Their grandmother bristled noticeably. “Because we were too busy this morning. And until you move in with your father and … Carly, you must do as I say.”

“Yes, Grandma,” Shawn and Sara returned, like finely trained puppets.

Carly watched as a frown worked its way across Brand’s face. His mother’s reaction to Carly seemed to be as much of a surprise to him as it was to her. Brand hadn’t told her a lot about his mother, and she’d pictured her as the round, grandmotherly sort. Kay St. Clair certainly wasn’t that. She obviously cared for Shawn and Sara, and they returned that love, but she wasn’t the warm, open person Carly had expected. But then,
she
wasn’t the bride Kay St. Clair had anticipated, either.