Suddenly Married (16 page)

He felt her shrug.

“I just figured you were feeling guilty,” she said, “for breaking your promise. That you didn’t quite know what to make of having another woman in your house.”

“What promise?”

“You said once that she asked you to promise that you’d find the kids a mother substitute as soon as possible. You said you told her what she needed to hear,
but that you’d promised yourself no one would ever take her place.”

If you told Dara that, he thought, you’re an insensitive jerk.

“Francine was never in this house. She never set foot in this room,” he said. “She died nearly three years before we moved to the Baltimore area, remember?”

She nodded.

“And just to set the record straight, I sold every stick of furniture when I put the Pennsylvania property on the market.”

She leaned back a bit. “You did?”

He nodded.

“But why? Weren’t there…weren’t there memories attached to those things?”

Noah sighed heavily. “That’s exactly why I left them behind.”

“Oh,” she said in a very small voice.

“Hasn’t been easy, has it?”

“What hasn’t?”

“Everything. You don’t even have an engagement ring.”

He felt her wrap her left hand in her right. “This little band of gold is all I’ll ever need, Noah.”

She was different, all right.

“But you had to endure a throw-together marriage service and a hasty reception, and—”

“I loved the ceremony, and the reception, too.” She shook her shoulders. “In fact, I can hardly wait until the pictures are developed.”

“Yeah, well…Then you’re forced to sleep in here, with me, so the kids won’t think—”

“It hasn’t exactly been a picnic for you, either.” Almost immediately, Dara began to laugh.

He shook his head. “What’s so funny?”

“Have you ever planned a picnic?”

Noah swallowed the urge to say, What does
that
have to do with anything? “Can’t say as I have,” he said, instead.

“It’s not so easy, you know, remembering everything—tablecloth and napkins, plates and silverware, something to drink and something to drink from, something to keep hot food hot and cold food cold and—”

He thought maybe he was beginning to understand her…a little. “I get it.”

He heard the smile in her voice when she nodded.

They seemed content, after that, to lie quietly in each other’s arms. Listening to her soft, steady breaths was as comforting as the gentle sound of rain on the roof, and Noah was lulled into a near sleep state. It felt so good, holding her this way, that he had no idea how much time had passed since he’d turned out the light

After a while, her sleepy voice broke the silence. “Noah?”

“Hmm.”

“We, um. We never discussed the…the details.”

“What details?” he mumbled groggily.

Sleepy or not, he had to consider the possibility that maybe he understood her a little
too
well, for he thought he knew what she was referring to. But much as he longed for her, Noah would not risk frightening her or making her feel put-upon. Because he couldn’t forget what Dara had said: “My father gets his good name back. You’ll get chief cook and bottle washer, and your kids get a substitute mother. What’s in it for me?”

His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness by now, and in the narrow shaft of light that squeaked under the window shade, he could see her beautiful, wide-eyed face. Oh, how he longed for even one kiss from his wife. Noah swallowed hard. Took a deep breath. But the time wasn’t right. She had to trust him first, to know how much he cared for her. “We have the rest of our lives,” he whispered, “to work out the details.”

Her cheek pressed to his chest, she murmured something.

“What’s that, sweetie?” he asked without even thinking, running his fingers through her hair.

“I know it’s been a busy, hectic day,” she said, stifling a yawn, “but I was just wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

“What were you thinking, standing up there on the altar, when Pastor Williams said ‘Do you take this woman…’”

Noah looked into her eyes, which seemed bigger, browner, downright fathomless, in the nearly dark room. Should he tell her the truth? That he was thinking, Get on with it, so I can seal this deal with a kiss! Should he admit that his palms had started sweating and his heart had started thumping as though he’d just run a marathon?

Should he tell her that it had taken every ounce of his control to keep from blurting out that he loved her, that he felt like the luckiest man on earth knowing she’d consented to marry him…for whatever reasons?

No. The truth would only put pressure on her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

One hand on either side of her face, he repeated her
question. “What do you mean, ‘What was I thinking?’” ‘

Her eyes sparkled like coal in the moonlight as she gazed into his face. “I mean, was there a moment when you asked yourself, ‘Is this a mistake?’ Was there a point when you considered ducking out the door and—”

He pressed a fingertip to her lips, silencing her. “No,” he said sincerely, “nothing like that went through my head, not even for an instant.”

A smile gentled her features. “But how could you be so sure?”

“Because,” he began, “I’ve never done anything without first consulting God. At least, not since Angie and Bobby came along.”

Dara nodded. “I see.”

Was that…was that sadness in her voice? “What about you?” he asked. “Did you have any second thoughts at the last minute?”

“No,” she said, “not really.”

The words had been what he’d wanted to hear, but she’d said them a beat too late, and she’d stiffened slightly when she’d said them, which could only mean one thing: she
had
given a thought or two to calling the wedding off. The realization awakened an ache in him like none he’d known to date.

“Remember when I asked you, selfishly, what was in it for me?”

“I remember.” He doubted he’d ever forget. “But the question wasn’t the least bit selfish. You had every right to be concerned about your future.”

His response seemed to calm her, and she relaxed again in his arms. “I think I know what’s in it for me now.”

His heart soared with hopefulness. “What’s in it for you, Dara?” he husked.

She nestled closer still. “I love Angie and Bobby—”

“I know that,” he interrupted. “Anyone with eyes knows that.”

“But,” she continued, “what’s in it for me…is a baby.”

Was he hearing things? Had she really said—

“I’ve been praying about it ever since you first popped the question,” Dara said. “There’s so much love in this house. I think we’d have a lot to offer a baby. A baby would be good for the kids, would be good for us all.” She sighed sweetly. “I’ve wanted a child of my own for as long as I can remember. I hate to use a cliché, but my biological clock is ticking even louder than that old-fashioned alarm of yours.” Smiling, she tilted her head back, stared into his eyes. “
That’s
what’s in it for me, Noah.”

“A baby.…”

She nodded again.

He was about to tell her he’d never deny her anything, especially not something as miraculous, as magnificent as a baby, when she pressed her lips to his.

I
nstinct made him slide his hand around to her nape to draw her nearer still, and this time when their lips met, he tried to tell her with his kiss how he felt, how much he’d like to give her…how his heart was overflowing with love for her…feelings he could never describe with words alone.…

Gently, lovingly, he ended their kiss and pressed his fingertips to her lips. “A baby, huh?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding, “a baby.”

A shudder went through him as he looked into her long-lashed, closed eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, “so beautiful.…”

Slowly, her lids opened, and dreamily, she looked at him, and went completely still. “So are you.”

His forefinger traced the curve of her jaw, the slope of her throat. He loved her with all his heart and soul. They’d have children together. Face life’s ups and downs together. Grow old together.

Together.

The word was like a rainbow after a thunderstorm.

Her eyes glittered with unshed tears as he kissed her. She twined her arms around his neck, drove her fingers through his hair and sighed, a long, melodious sound that reminded him of the wind chimes Brother Constantine had hung in the garden at St. Vincent’s.

“I think you should know something first.”

He felt her stiffen, shift a bit, as if preparing to pull away.

“I—I’m…” She sighed and, exasperated, winnowed her fingers through her hair. “I don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”

“Disappoint me?”

“It’s…I’m not very…experienced.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “How experienced are you?”

Dara heaved a loud sigh. “The truth of it is, you’ve married yourself a thirty-year-old virgin.”

It stunned him a bit, the way she’d said it, as though she expected he’d be ashamed of her
in
experience. “First of all, I thought your birthday was in May.”

“It is.”

“Then I’ve married myself a twenty-nine-year-old virgin.”

Dara smiled. “I stand corrected.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Second, why do you say it as though you’re ashamed, as though it’s something disgraceful? I think it’s wonderful.”

“I’m not ashamed. I know a lot of people these days think that for a woman to save herself for her husband is an old-fashioned notion. But I believe it’s the right thing to do.”

He nodded. “I agree.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s the least bit
disgraceful. Discouraging, maybe…a little unsatisfying, even.”

“For me, you mean?”

Burrowing her face deeper into his shoulder, she nodded.

“Sweetie,” he said, “look at me.”

When she didn’t, he cupped her chin in his palm, lifted her face until their eyes met. “You could never disappoint me.”

Her face broke into a smile so bright it could have lit the room, and when she kissed him, a muted sigh escaped her lips. He felt as if he might drown in the lazy pleasure of it.

Until the unhappy fact dawned.

Somewhere, way off in the deepest recesses of his subconscious, he acknowledged that as much as he’d hoped and prayed for this, Dara didn’t want their marriage to be a true one because she loved him. She’d said it in her usual kindhearted way, of course, but she’d made it clear nonetheless: he was the necessary means by which her dream of motherhood would become a reality.

He was a trained auditor and could easily add things up.

He held her gently in the curve of his arm, gazed longingly at her. She’d done so much for him, for Bobby and Angie, and he had a feeling she hadn’t even begun to make a home for them yet. If a baby would fulfill a wish, answer a prayer, make a dream come true, then she should have one…or a dozen babies, if that was what she wanted! Having grown up an orphan, he had more cause than most to consider each child a gift from God, would love and treasure every one she’d give him with every beat of his heart.

God had better have mercy on his miserable soul and provide him with strength—a double dose of it—in case this marriage of convenience he’d set up turned out to be just that…and nothing more.

Dara awoke to the sound of a phone trilling somewhere off in the distance. Rolling onto her back, she yawned and stretched, squinted into the bright sunshine peeking around the edges of the window shade. She must have imagined the telephone’s ring. Either that or one of the kids had—

The kids.
…

With a flush of sudden warmth, Dara remembered where she was. Remembered
who
she was now…and that last night, she’d become Mrs. Noah Lucas in every sense of the word.

She had lain awake for hours afterward, thinking about the splendor of it all. If the man-woman union could be so nearly perfect when only one or the other was in love, Dara could only imagine how much more a couple might expect when the devotion, the desire, the love, flowed both ways.

It had been a risk, telling him what she expected to gain from this marriage. She had considered the possibility that Noah might not want to consummate their marriage, that two children were all he could handle, that he had no intention—or desire—to replace Francine, in
any
way. But, like the answer to a prayer, Noah had seemed almost pleased by her announcement. Not so surprising, really, when she considered his childhood, when she thought of how hard he tried to be a good father to Angie and Bobby.

On her side now, she scrunched the pillow under her neck so she could watch her new husband sleep. He
lay on his back, right hand resting lightly on his chest, left hand flat on the mattress, just inches from her thigh.

Last night, those hands had touched her with such tenderness, as if he believed she were made of delicate crystal and one wrong move might shatter her.

His hair poked out in all directions, making her want to reach out and smooth it into place, the way she had in the darkness, when a lock of burnished blond fell across one eye, blocking his vision.

Long, thick lashes beneath the smooth brow dusted rugged cheekbones, and his slightly parted mustached mouth emitted a soft whistle with each exhalation. The slight smile that curved his beautiful lips up at the corners told her that his dreams, like his face, were at peace. Are you dreaming of Francine? she wondered, linking her fingers with his.

It was foolish—no,
dangerous
—to ask such questions, because the answers were torture, pure torture. And yet, the fact that he still cared for his departed wife made him all the more lovable. Because if he could feel so strongly about a woman he’d lost over three years ago how much more could he love her, if only he’d give himself a chance!

The children thundered up the stairs, making her wonder where the old expression, “pitter-patter of little feet” had come from. Two little fists knocked on the door.

“Father,” Angie called, “it’s Grandmother!”

Opening one eye, he wrinkled his nose. “Wha…?”

Dara tossed back the covers and shrugged into her robe. “It’s your mother-in-law,” she whispered, hugging the collar tight to her throat. “She’s on the phone.”

“My mother-in-what?”

Dara tied the robe’s belt. “Your—”

“Father? Are you awake?”

Gently, Dara shook his shoulder. “Noah…Noah, wake up! It’s Francine’s mother,” she said, a little more loudly this time.

He pulled the pillow over his face. “What time is it?” came his muffled question.

“Nearly nine.” She ran around to the other side of the bed and tugged at his covers.

The knocking increased in volume and intensity. “Fa-ther!”

“Noah, please. The children are right outside, no doubt with the portable phone in their—”

He hugged the comforter tighter and groaned. “What does she want?” he moaned, crooking an arm over his eyes.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Dara flung the quilt back, exposing long hairy legs that poked out from blue-striped boxer shorts, muscles that bulged under the snug sleeves of his white T-shirt.

After one last attempt to hold on to the disappearing blanket, he sat up. Planting both feet on the carpet, he shook his head. “C’mon in, kids,” he invited.

The door flew open as if it had been spring loaded, and Angie and Bobby burst into the room. Jumping onto the bed, they bounced around near him, giggling as they hugged him, kissed him, tousled his already mussed hair.

Angie held out the phone. “Grandmother says there hasn’t been any snow at all in Florida. She says she misses the change of seasons. She says she misses us, too, and that she wants to come and see us.”

Closing his eyes, Noah hung his head. “Lord, give me strength,” he whispered.

“What did you say, Father?”

Tucking in one corner of his mouth, he accepted the phone from his daughter. “Emmaline!” he said, standing. “How are you?”

Dara watched as he nodded and frowned, nodded and smiled, nodded and shook his head. After a while, Noah said, “That’ll be fine, Emmaline, just fine.” Another minute of silence passed as he raised his eyebrows, pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, drove his fingers through his hair. “That’s right, Emmaline, yesterday. Yes, yes. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, too.”

Then, “Aha, aha.…” He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped.

“Mmm-hmm. Is that right?” He leaned forward, hid his face behind his free hand.

“Sure, sure.…” More silence, more nodding.

“I’m sure she won’t.” He sighed and listened.

“Yes, we’re happy.” He met Dara’s eyes for a moment and smiled slightly. “Very happy.” Then he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

“Of course not. She’d never do—”

He stood. Frowned. “Not in a million years! She’s nothing like that, Emmaline.” More nodding, another shake of the head.

“That’s right, you’ll see for yourself. All right, then, we’ll wait to hear from you. Aha. Mmm-hmm. Okay. We love you, too. Bye.…”

He depressed the phone’s off button, handed the phone back to Angie. “Thanks, honey,” he said, scratching his whiskered chin. “Did you guys have breakfast?”

“We had Fruity Oats,” Bobby volunteered.

“And orange juice,” Angie added.

He ruffled their hair. “Good. Let’s get cleaned up now, or we’ll be late for church. Services start in just over an hour, you know.”

“May I wear my wedding dress?” Angie wanted to know.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I wear jeans and sneakers?”

“
May
I,” Angie corrected.

He sighed and, narrowing his eyes, said, “So
can
I…
Dad?
”

Noah’s brows rose high on his forehead in response to the moniker. “What makes you think you could get away with that?”

“Well,” he started, grinning, “I’m still re-re-
recuperating.
…”

“Recuperating?” Noah echoed, grinning back. “Your vocabulary has improved since your last spelling test, you little con man. You’ll wear your suit. As usual.”

Dara had been standing off to the side, quietly taking it all in. She took half a step forward and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robe. “So when is…Grandmother arriving?” she ventured.

His mustache tilted in a half grin and his blue eyes lit up with mischief. “Well, it’s like this, li’l missy. Grandmaw will be rollin’ in on the eight-oh-four,” he drawled, walking around the room like an old, bowlegged cowboy. “We-uns will need t’ be down at the station a tick or two afore that, though, just in case the ole chuggaroo pulls in a mite early.”

Giggling, Angie hugged Noah around the waist. “Oh, Father,” she said. “You’re funny!”

But Dara failed to see the humor in his words.

“How long…” Dara cleared her throat. “Will she be staying with us long?”

“Ay-yup,” Bobby said, continuing his father’s geezer imitation. “She’ll be stowin’ her gear in the ole spare bedroom right on through the holidays.”

Eyes widening, Dara clutched at her throat. “Through…” She swallowed hard. “Until…until
after Christmas?
”

“Until January third,” Angie offered. “She wants to help us ring in the New Year.”

Let me get this straight, Dara told herself. My new husband’s deceased wife’s mother is coming to town, tonight, and she’s staying…Dara did some quick mental calculating. She’s staying two weeks!

“Grandfather is coming, too,” Bobby said, nodding excitedly. “He’s attired.”

Angie’s shoulders slumped with frustration. “
Re
tired,” she said. And facing Dara, she added, “That means he doesn’t have to go to work anymore.”

“’Cause he’s old.”

“Not old,” his sister scolded. She looked to her father for guidance. “He’s just…”

Smiling, Noah raised a brow. “He’s your grampa. That’s all you need to know.”

Dara could almost hear her father asking, Do you love your mother? Then what else matters?

Noah bent down, gave each child a kiss on the cheek, then patted their round little bottoms. “Go on, now,” he said, leading them to the door. “Start getting ready, and maybe we can avoid our usual Sunday rush.”

“Yes, Father.” Angie skipped through the doorway and quickly disappeared down the hall.

“Sho’ ‘nuff, Pa,” Bobby said. “You want I should wear me a bow tie aroun’ mah neck?”

“Pardner,” Noah replied, squinting one eye, “y’all decide that for yo’seff. Now, listen to yer pa and mosey along.”

Snickering, Bobby hop-skipped from the room. “I ain’t a-gonna wear no bow tie!” he hollered over his shoulder. “Just try an’ make me!”

Noah stood in the middle of the room for a moment, grinning and shaking his head. Then, turning to Dara, he said, “You’re sure you want another one of those running around here?”

“You bet I am.” What I don’t want around here, she added mentally, are Francine’s parents!

Noah crossed the room in three long strides and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “They don’t bite.”

She couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. “It’s just that…Two weeks is such a long time, Noah. A
very
long time.” She bit her lower lip to still its trembling. Everything was happening too fast.
Way
too fast. She’d only just met Noah and the children six weeks earlier and now—

A terrible thought pinged in her mind: what if Francine’s parents jumped to the conclusion that she and Noah had been in a rush to get married because they were in trouble?