Higher Than Eagles (Donovans of the Delta) (12 page)

“Childbirth.”

His hands slid downward, causing shivers to skitter along her skin.

“I can still almost span your waist with my hands.”

She chuckled, a soft, light sound in the darkness. “Thank you. I work at it.”

“The legs . . .” Words failed him. He knelt on the hard wooden floor, letting his caresses do the talking.

His warm breath fanned against her stomach. The need rose high into her throat, making speech impossible. She clutched his shoulders and arched. He met her halfway, and his touch was balm to her soul.

For Rachel, Jacob was all the music she’d ever sung, swirling madly through her body. For him, she was the sky at its most magnificent, wild and beautiful and free. She took him up, higher and higher until he was soaring.

“Jacob.” She called his name, shattering the pulsing stillness of the room.

“I’m here, Rachel. And we have the rest of the night.”

He lifted her onto the cot, lowered her to the sheets with a tenderness beyond imagining. He soothed her with his lips and hands, gentling her, easing her back from the ragged edge of the wild passion that had driven them.

She pulled him down to her fiercely, as if she could hold back the morning with her passion. At that moment, she didn’t want tomorrow to come.

“I want every minute of it with you,” she whispered.

His hands separated her legs, lifted her hips. When she was cupped around him, silky and smooth and welcoming, they began the slow, languorous rhythm that would pace them through the night.

As the first blush of dawn glowed against the windowpane, pale gold and soft pink, Rachel stirred in Jacob’s arms. He lay on his back, red hair tumbled, eyes closed in sleep. Lifting herself on her elbow, she looked down at him. Her hair made a curtain against his cheek.

She touched his face softly, like the kiss of a summer shower on rose petals. Her hair whispered upon the pillow as she dipped her head down to gaze into his beloved face.

The truth welled up inside her, pushing against the six-year-old barriers. Instinct warred with desire. At that moment, warm with the heat of his body against hers, she wanted desperately to tell Jacob the truth. She wanted to bare her soul, to confess that he was Benjy’s father. The need to tell was so great that she bit her lower lip to keep from waking him up and spilling the truth. Deep down inside her, instinct born of self-preservation warned her to keep quiet. Either way she was doomed. If she kept quiet, as she had all these years, he’d walk away thinking her love hadn’t been strong enough. And if she confessed, he’d never forgive her. Never.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted the blood. The truth was best left unsaid.

“Goodbye, my love,” she murmured.

Jacob stirred, a smile curving his lips. For a heartbeat, she thought he’d heard. Then he settled back into deep slumber, and she realized he’d only been dreaming.

Bending lower she pressed her lips against his cheek softly, like cloud mists against the sun. Tears blurred her eyes as she rose silently from the bed. It was best to go quickly, she decided as she buttoned her nightshirt. Words wouldn’t make any difference. Not now. Not ever. Last night had been their goodbye.

She walked across the room, intending to leave without looking back. When she reached the doorway, she paused, the steady sound of his breathing thundering in her ears. One last look, she told herself. That’s all she wanted, all she needed.

The sheet made a tangled loin cloth around his naked body. He was truly splendid lying there, his broad chest and muscled arms as deeply tanned as his face. Even in sleep the laughter couldn’t be entirely erased from his face. Laugh lines fanned out from his eyes and humor softened his mouth.

A wave of tenderness swept through her. If ever a man was suited to fatherhood, it was Jacob Donovan. He had such riches to share—a vital, joyous spirit, an infectious laugh, wit and charm and intelligence. She could go on and on, listing his assets. But that didn’t outweigh the stark reality: She had kept the most precious gift in all the world from him—his son.

Turning softly so as not to awaken him, she left the room, left the cottage, walking out into the pearly shield of dawn.

 o0o

Jacob knew she was gone even before he opened his eyes. He reached for her and clutched only emptiness. Rolling over, he pressed his face into the pillow. The fragrance of roses clung there, the sweet, heady scent that was her signature. He inhaled deeply as if he could bring her back simply by filling himself with her special scent. But no matter how much he wanted her, no matter how real she was in his imagination, his bed remained empty.

He kicked the sheet aside and reached for his pants. He would go quickly before he became completely besotted with her . . . again. Rachel was a betrayer; a lovely sorceress who wove her spell and then vanished into the night.

It didn’t take him long to pack. Like his sister Hannah, he knew the value of being unencumbered by possessions. Freedom meant flying, and flying was best done without the burden of baggage.

Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, he locked the cabin door and bounded down the steps. His hand was on the door of his rented jeep when he heard the sound of laughter. Benjy and Rachel. He turned and looked toward their cabin. They were descending their front steps, hand in hand, laughing together at something one of them had said. An ache rose in Jacob’s chest, right around his heart.

Across the way stood the woman who had held him captive for six years, the woman who should have been his. And with her was her son, a son who should have also been his. Jacob knew he should turn away; he wanted to turn away. But once again his heart ruled his head. He stood in the early morning sun, watching them.

The sounds of laughter floated to him as they bustled back and forth between the cabin and Rachel’s car, loading their picnic basket, a blanket, three folding chairs, and every toy Benjy considered necessary for a day’s outing. Vashti stood benignly by, sun hat firmly on her head and a smile on her face.

“I bet Jacob would like Magic Mountain.”

The excited, little-boy voice carried clearly across to Jacob. They were going to Disney World. Without him. From now on, everything they did would be without him. The knowledge made him unutterably sad.

As he watched, Rachel bent down and spoke to Benjy, hugging him against her chest. Then she stood and looked toward his cabin, her hand over her heart. He was too far away to see her eyes, too distant to know whether they were bright with tears, but there was something forlorn about the way she stood.

“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered. “May the wind be beneath your wings.”

As if she had heard him, she straightened her shoulders, tilted her chin at a proud angle, and helped her family into the car. Then they drove off to see Magic Mountain.

There would be no magic for him, Jacob thought as he flung his duffel bag into the jeep, only mountains, and each one steeper and more difficult to climb than the last.

 o0o

Rachel stayed three more days in Florida. With each passing day, her love for Jacob grew. From the moment he’d sought her out in Biloxi, she’d slowly been coming under his spell. One by one, he’d battered down the barriers she’d erected between them. In his bed, the final barrier had come tumbling down.

His absence served to verify her love. She felt empty without him, lost, restless.

She padded barefoot through the house, softly so as not to wake Benjy from his afternoon nap. “Vashti,” she called, “where are you?”

“Out here.” Vashti was sitting on the front porch, bent over a piece of needlepoint. She looked up when Rachel came out. “I thought there might be a breeze stirring, but I was wrong. I don’t know how that child can sleep in this heat.”

“He’s young. Children are very adaptable.”

“And very wise. The way he took to Jacob . . . my, my. We need never worry about that boy. He can spot character a mile away.”

“Vashti—”

Vashti continued, as if she’d never heard Rachel’s interruption. “Furthermore, I think Jacob would have stayed if you’d just said the word. Did you see how reluctant he was to leave us? There was something suspiciously like tears in his eyes when he hugged that little boy goodbye. Why, I thought—”

“Vashti!”

Rachel’s tone of voice made the old woman look up. Rachel gave her a gentle smile.

“You need not expend your energy promoting Jacob’s case. I love him.”

“You what?”

“If I ever stopped loving him at all—and I’m not sure I did, even though Bob was a good man and a good husband—I fell in love with him all over again when he came back to Biloxi.”

“Nobody is denying Bob’s goodness. Lord knows, he did what few men would have done.” Vashti, seeing Rachel’s eyes widen in shock, hastened to remedy her mistake. “Marrying a woman who obviously loved another man was an uncommon act of bravery.”

Rachel calmed herself. There was no reason for Vashti to know the truth. No way she could know. Rachel and Bob had left Greenville soon after the marriage. Vashti, like everybody else, had accepted the story of Benjy’s premature birth.

“You’re right, Vashti. Bob was uncommonly brave. And he was a good father. For that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Vashti studied Rachel, opened her mouth to say something, then clamped it shut again. Picking up her needlework, she began to stitch, fast and furiously.

The reticence was so unlike her that Rachel laughed. “Does somebody’s life depend on that needlework, Vashti?”

“What?” Vashti’s head jerked up.

“Why don’t you stop stitching and say what’s on your mind? I’m afraid holding it all back will give you ulcers.”

“What’s on my mind is how come Bob got into this conversation. You told me you love Jacob, but you didn’t say what you were going to do about it.”

“I guess I was hoping for a little advice.”

Vashti didn’t try to hide her pleasure. She literally beamed.

“From me? You want love advice from me?”

“Who better than you? You have more love in your heart than any person I know. How else could you have sacrificed your own life to raise somebody else’s children?”

“Raising you was not a sacrifice, Rachel; it was redemption.” Vashti set aside her needlework and leaned back in her chair. “I’m going to tell you a story. . . . I was thirteen when my mother died. Dad took my older brother, explaining to me that boys are easier to handle, and left me in the care of my grandmother. She was in bad health, even then. By the time I was twenty, I was taking care of her.”

Vashti studied the water with a faraway look. Then she continued her story.

“It took all my strength and energy to make a living and watch after Grandma. At least, that’s what I thought at the time. When she died, I was forty-two, without much prospects for the future. While I was caring for the sick, life had passed me by.”

Rachel could only imagine how Vashti must have felt. She waited, quietly, while Vashti gathered her thoughts.

 “I had no skills except housekeeping and not much education. When I saw Martin Windham’s ad in the paper, I felt that fate had smiled on me. The ad had said he wanted a housekeeper, and I was certainly an expert at that. It was not until I came to work my first day that I found out about you. When I saw you peeking around the doorway at me, those big eyes bright with curiosity and that shy smile on your lips, I knew there was a God after all.”

“My father didn’t even mention me when he hired you?”

“No. He was afraid I wouldn’t take the job.”

“He viewed me as a burden.”

“No, no. It wasn’t that. He was a harried, depressed man. His wife was dead and he simply didn’t know what to do. Many people are like that, Rachel. They don’t know what to do in a particular situation, so they do nothing.”

“Thank you, Vashti, for defending my father and for reminding me that I should do something.”

Vashti smiled. “You always were a bright girl.” She stood up. “I’d better get packing.”

Rachel laughed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Vashti gave her a shrewd look. “Unless I miss my guess, we’re headed toward Greenville. Seems to me there are a few things you need to tell Jacob Donovan —starting with ‘I love you.’”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell Jacob Donovan I love him.” She felt lighthearted and free for all of two minutes, then her face clouded over. There was something else she had to tell him, too.

 o0o

Jacob knew Rachel was in Greenville two hours after she had arrived. The grapevine was very efficient in a small southern town.

He told himself she was there to visit her father. It was only logical. He told himself her presence in town meant nothing to him. It was a lie.

The minute he saw her, standing in the doorway of the country club, dressed in black, pearls gleaming on her honey-hued skin, he knew he’d been playing mind games with himself. How could she mean nothing to him when merely seeing her made wildfires go rampaging through his body? How could she mean nothing to him when he felt the urge to kill every man who looked at her?

As she glided between the tables, holding her father’s arm and smiling like the celebrity she was, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d fallen in love with Rachel all over again. He groaned. God help them all.

“Did you say something, Jacob?”

He looked across the table at his sister, Hannah Donovan Roman. Her blue eyes were serene, her dark gypsy hair caught high on her head with a pink ribbon, and her lithe body swathed in a loose-fitting pearly pink dress. She carried her pregnancy well.

“No. I was just commenting on the weather. It’s hot.”

Hannah tipped back her head and roared with uninhibited delight. “Jacob, you sweet old pretender. You needn’t try to fool me. I saw Rachel come through the door.”

“No doubt she’s visiting her father.”

“Are you asking for a confirmation, Jacob?”

“No, that was merely a comment. It’s called conversation, Hannah. You and Jim and little Marianne spend so much time in Alaska, you’ve forgotten what polite conversation is.”

Smiling. Hannah leaned back in her chair. “The last time I saw anything as testy as you, I was dealing with a lovesick moose. He thought his lady love was near our cabin, and he uprooted every flower I had before I could convince him to behave.”