Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics) (19 page)

Carly closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “The family I moved in with when I was fourteen had a natural daughter the same age. She hated me. It wasn’t that I’d done anything. But I was there. I took away from the attention and love she felt was
her
due—not mine. I was a stranger with a murky past.”

Brand brought her into his arms. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Carly. You can’t compare that to what’s happening with my mother now.”

Her smile was sad. She wouldn’t argue with him, but in her heart, she knew. The situation was no different—and in many ways it was worse.

That night Carly lay awake. She could tell by the way Brand was breathing that he wasn’t asleep either. The space between them seemed greater than just a few inches. In some ways whole universes stretched between them.

“You awake?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She turned to cuddle him, nestling her head against his shoulder. The need to feel his arms around her was strong. “I’m cold.”

Immediately, Brand’s arms brought her more fully into his embrace. “Tell me what happened in that foster home you were talking about earlier.”

“Why?”

“I need to know,” he returned in a slow, uneven murmur.

“Her name was Joyce,” Carly murmured softly. “She never did learn to like me. I was a threat to her. Not with just her family, but at school as well. When we were allowed to date, it didn’t matter who asked me out, Joyce had to prove that she could take that boy away from me.”

“Did she?”

Carly shrugged. “Sometimes. But it didn’t matter.” The only man Carly had ever really loved was Brand.

“Did you compete with her?”

“I tried hard not to,” she admitted and smiled wryly. “But she was intimidated, simply by my being there.”

“Her parents couldn’t see what was happening?”

“I’m sure they could, but their hands were tied. If they’d intervened, then Joyce would have had all the more reason to hate me.”

“So you were left to sink or swim,” he said dryly.

As he spoke, Carly’s fingers playfully tugged at the hairs on his chest.

“If you don’t stop doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens,” Brand ground out near her ear.

Carly giggled, releasing the tension that had stretched between them only seconds before. “That sounds promising.”

“I can offer you a lot more than promises,” Brand mumbled, and stopped her fingers, capturing one arm. Twisting, he repositioned himself so that he was holding her hands down at either side of her head. “Do you surrender?”

“Never,” Carly said, and laughed softly. “I’d be crazy to give up when I’m winning.”

“Winning?” he asked incredulously.

“You bet.” She lifted her head just enough to press her mouth lightly to his. In a short, teasing action her tongue moistened his mouth. Brand released a short sigh and melted against her. His hands no longer pinned her to the bed as they sought softer, more feminine areas. Carly wasn’t given the opportunity to move as his mouth ravaged hers. Pressing her into the mattress, he buried his face in the hollow of her throat, teasing her with his tongue.

“See?” she whispered happily. “What did I tell you? I’m winning.”

“You’re mighty brave in my mother’s house.” Brand knew how uncomfortable she’d be making love with only a thin wall separating them from Kay.

“Wait until you see how bold I can get!” Carly said, with a soft, subdued laugh.

“Daddy?”

The sound of the soft voice startled Carly. Brand rolled aside and Carly sat upright.

“I can’t sleep.” Sara stood in the doorway, tightly clutching her new doll under her arm.

“Did we wake you up?” Carly wanted to know, tossing Brand an accusing glare.

“No. I had to go potty and then I heard you giggle and I wanted to giggle, too.”

Carly motioned with one finger for Sara to come to her. The little girl scooted eagerly across the floor to Carly’s side of the bed. Leaning over, she whispered in Sara’s ear and the child broke out in delighted laughter.

“What’d you say about me?” Brand demanded mockingly.

“How’d you know I said anything that had to do with you?”

“You had that look in your eye.”

Carly threw back the sheets and Sara crawled under the covers with her. “You can’t blame me if women often react to you with laughter. Isn’t that right, Sara?” The little girl agreed with an eager nod.

“What’s all the noise about?” Shawn stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“Did your father wake you up, too?” Carly asked.

“No, Sara did. She was giggling.”

“That was Carly,” Brand corrected.

Shawn hesitated. “How come Sara gets to sleep with you?”

“That wasn’t my idea,” Brand said, and lifted the covers. “Might as well get the whole family in here.”

Shawn climbed in beside his father. “I’m sleepy. Good night,” he whispered.

Brand looked at Carly, with Sara snuggled close in her arms, and the tenderness in his eyes was enough to make her want to cry.

“Good night, family,” Brand issued softly, and reached for Carly’s hand.

The float plane veered to the left after taking off from Dutch Harbor. The small settlement was in the long tail of the Aleutian Islands, which stretched like a graceful arc of stepping-stones between two continents. The Aleutians spanned hundreds of miles to the farthest western extension of North America. Carly gazed out of the window at Unalaska Island, which was wedged between the frigid North Pacific and the storm-tossed Bering Sea.

June had arrived, and Alaska had shed its cold winter coat, stretching and waking to explode in flowers and sunshine. To Carly, with Brand at her side, it was paradise.

She had only flown with him a handful of times, and usually on short trips that were accomplished in less than a day. Now, high above the dark waters, she was amazed by the harshness of the terrain below. The islands had few trees, all of stunted growth. Grass grew in abundance and covered the ground. The contrast with the magnificent cliffs and the forests thick with life on the Alaska mainland was striking.

Looking around her now, she was struck again by the serene mountains. Capped with snow, they stretched for miles in a land called “America’s Siberia.” Brand had explained that the Aleutian Islands contained the longest range of active volcanoes in the United States. Forty-six was the number he’d quoted her.

Brand turned his attention from the controls. “You’re very quiet,” he said, above the roar of the engine. Reaching for Carly’s hand, he kissed her fingertips.

She offered him a dry smile.

“Are you tired?”

“Not at all. I’m overwhelmed by Alaska’s diversity.” What she was really thinking was how much she wanted Brand to teach her to fly. His reluctance was more obvious every time she brought up the subject. Carly didn’t kid herself. She knew why.

“Dutch Harbor’s got quite a history,” Brand remarked. “During World War Two, when Japan was preparing for the battle of Midway, they bombed Dutch Harbor.”

“Did their bombers fly off course?” Carly teased. “Midway’s in the
South
Pacific.”

“No, they’d hoped to draw the Pacific fleet north. The United States spent fourteen
months and hundreds of lives in liberating the islands. Most of those men never saw the enemy. They died from the weather and disease.”

Carly’s mind filled with images of young men bloody, shaking, and freezing. She recalled having read something about the war in the Aleutians.

“How long before we arrive at Lake Iliamna?” She wanted to direct her thoughts from the unpleasant paths her mind was exploring.

“Not long. Are you anxious for our honeymoon?”

“What I want to know is what you had to promise George for me to get all this time off. I thought he’d explode because I wanted to attend Diana’s wedding. Now he’s given me time off two weeks running.”

“What makes you think I promised him anything?”

“I know George.” In some ways she knew him better than she did Brand.

His gaze roamed possessively over her face. “Don’t ask so many questions.”

Carly had faced a lot of unanswered questions this past week. Brand’s children were beautiful, delightful. But she couldn’t look at them without seeing Sandra. Brand knew that, and had tried in some illogical way to make it up to her all week. His mother had reminded Carly forcefully that she would never fit into Kay’s image of a wife and mother. For a time Carly might be able to fool herself, but it wouldn’t last long. She was an intruder in their lives, just as she had infringed on other lives as a child. There were no dreams for her. Only the borrowed ones of others.

Brand had sensed her qualms. All week he’d been watching, waiting. For what, Carly wasn’t sure. He might have thought she was going to leave him, but she wasn’t. At night, he’d reach for her. “I love you, Carly,” was all he’d say. Their lovemaking was volcanic. With his arms wrapped securely around her, he fell asleep afterward. Carly wasn’t so fortunate. She’d slept fitfully all week, waking in the darkest part of the night that precedes dawn. Often she was up and dressed when Brand awoke. They were both praying with a desperation born of silent torment that this time alone, this honeymoon, would set things right.

Lake Iliamna was as beautiful as Brand had described. The male proprietor of the log-cabin lodge welcomed them like family. He’d known Brand since childhood—which meant he’d known Sandra as well.

Carly tried not to think about that as they climbed the polished stairs that led to their
suite. The honeymoon suite.

The moment the door closed, Brand reached for her and kissed her hungrily. His mouth lingered to tease the curve of her lips.

“Carly,” he whispered, as he lifted the thick Indian sweater over her head. “I need you.” His fingers hurried with the buttons of her blouse, pushing it from her shoulders.

Carly’s fingers were just as eagerly working at his clothing, and when they fell into the bed, she kissed him and whispered, “I do love you, Brand.” Her voice was small and filled with emotion.

“I know.” The desperate ring of his response spoke of his own fears. As if afraid he had admitted something he shouldn’t have, Brand kissed her. The hard pressure of his mouth covered hers as he pushed her deep into the comfort of the mattress. It wasn’t long before Carly lost herself in the golden sensations of his lovemaking.

*  *  *

Carly stood in her silk robe, gazing out of the window onto the serene, blue lake in the distance. Brand continued to sleep peacefully, undisturbed by her absence. She turned and studied him for an instant as she tried to swallow back the doubts that reared up to face her like a charging enemy. After they’d made love, Carly had lain in his arms and thought how much simpler life would be if she had become his lover instead of his wife. Shawn and Sara were due to arrive in Anchorage in less than two weeks and she wasn’t ready. Not emotionally. Not in any way that mattered. These two wonderful children expected a mother … a family—not some emotionally insecure little girl who was struggling to reconcile her past. Shawn, Sara, and Brand deserved much more than what she could give them. At least, what she was capable of giving them now.

“Morning.” Brand joined her at the window, slipping his hands around her slim waist. His mouth came down to lightly claim her lips and nibble on their softness.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” His warm breath mingled with hers.

Carly wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to respond, but her body refused to relax.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” His hands rubbed her back in a soothing, coaxing motion as his eyes lovingly caressed hers.

Whenever Brand called her by that affectionate term, she bristled and wanted to scream at him. “Don’t call me that,” she returned stiffly, hating herself for being so petty.

“ ‘Honey’? Why not?”

Carly inhaled sharply. “Because that’s what you used to call Sandra.”

The morning light accentuated the frustrated, tired look in Brand’s dark eyes. He released her and walked to the other side of the room. Jerking his hand through his hair, Brand expelled a hard breath. “Yes, sometimes I did. But that was then. You’re now. Sandra has no part in our lives.”

“But ultimately she affects us.”

“Carly, please,” he said, his fists clenched as he struggled to control his anger. “Sandra is
gone
. How long are you going to compete with a dead woman?”

Her arms cradled her stomach as she turned from him and stared sightlessly out the window. Arguing the matter was useless. Her heart was breaking. She couldn’t let them continue as they had this week—stepping around each other, avoiding confrontations, pretending nothing was wrong. “I should never have married you, Brand. We would’ve been wonderful lovers.” Her voice became a low, aching whisper. “But what we have now isn’t going to work.”

“I don’t accept that. You’re my wife and I won’t let you go.”

“You’ll have to,” she said gently, hating the emotion that moistened her eyes. “It isn’t in me to let Shawn and Sara arrive feeling the way I do.”

“They’re coming, and there’s nothing that can be done about it now.” Frustration thinned his mouth. Her heart cried in anguish, but for a moment no sound came from the tight muscles of her throat.

“Do you think I enjoy feeling like this?” she cried. “I’d give anything to be different. Shawn and Sara are beautiful, warm children. But they’re
Sandra’s
children.”

“They’re our children,” he returned.

“Then why do I see Sandra every time I look at them?”

“Because that’s all your self-pity allows you to see. If you’d look past your own insecurities, you’d recognize how much they want and need you. All three of us do, Carly.” The desperate edge to his voice was painful to listen to. “Sandra has nothing to do with us,” he said in a pleading voice.

“Then you can’t recognize what’s right in front of your eyes,” she whispered, fighting
back the emotion. “What makes you so uncomfortable about me learning to fly?”

Dark eyes narrowed harshly. “It’s dangerous, and any one of a hundred things could happen—”

“And I could be killed,” she finished for him. “Sandra died and you’re afraid I will, too.”