The House That Love Built

by Jean Brashear

  And even when she’d agreed to his proposal, he’d tried to talk her into waiting to make love. Finally insisted that they take solemn vows first.

  He’d swept her into his arms and carried her, his strides eating up the ground as he headed toward a grove of trees in the night-darkened park. She could still see the moonlight on the strong bones of his face, the beautiful mouth.

  They’d pledged their lives to each other, secure in the unshakable nature of their love.

  “Snow, I know you have doubts. You don’t think I’m serious enough. But I never—” his voice grew fierce “—never let anyone down when I give my word. I don’t promise what I don’t mean.” His eyes were as fierce as his voice. “Do you believe me? I won’t be like your mother, Cleo. I’ll take care of you. I swear you can trust me.”

  Cleo had barely been able to speak for the longing that clogged her throat. She’d yearned for this, more than for anything in her life. Please, she’d begged whatever fates might be listening, let love be enough.

  Then, on a star-spattered night and a moon-woven blanket, Malcolm had laid her down and bared her body, covering her with his own heated skin. With joy and not a little fear, Cleo had relinquished both her virginity and the shell she’d built around her heart, daring to have faith that Malcolm would not be like all her mother’s men, that he was The One Who Would Stay.

  In the aftermath of loving, they’d both wept.

  Cleo had believed she’d found the talisman to ward against loneliness. Love would be their charm against heartache, and together they would be strong enough to face anything.

  Now she stared out her kitchen window and twisted a towel in her hands as she wondered if that girl could ever have believed the day would come when she would turn from that young man.

  Much less beg him to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday evening, with everyone else in the kitchen when she arrived, Cleo had sneaked up to her room for a few moments of peace. The shop had been unusually busy, and in her spare moments, her mind had drifted too often to Malcolm’s visit yesterday.

  Her gaze caught on the new brass headboard she’d bought to replace the one Malcolm had built for her. She ran her fingers over the metal and felt a subtle sense of shame.

  Malcolm had saved her drawing, still displayed proudly. When she’d begun to toy with the idea of taking a lover, her first step had been to change her bed. Free herself from memories of the past.

  This bed was pretty and feminine, linens and all, but seeing that drawing, she felt a renewed sense of loss.

  The bed frame he’d made for her was safely stored in the cedar closet. Maybe she should see if Malcolm wanted it.

  No. Malcolm’s little honey would not sleep in Cleo’s beautiful bed.

  Restless, Cleo walked out on her sunporch and stared at the yard. The tree house. Benjy had been in heaven being with his grandfather, and Ria had spent hours helping them rebuild the sanctuary that she and her father had constructed so many years ago. Listening to the three of them talk and laugh had been a special kind of torture for her, the outsider.

  Not that she hadn’t been invited. Benjy had repeated his pleas for her to pitch in, and she still felt a spoilsport for refraining.

  The problem was Malcolm. For five years, he’d been absent from her life, but for many more before that, he’d been everything. To her marrow, she’d wanted to join them, to be as near to him as the next breath.

  But Malcolm wasn’t hers anymore, and if occasionally he looked at her too long and stirred yearnings in her breast, well…

  Cleo pinched the bridge of her nose and reminded herself forcibly that Malcolm lived with another woman. Made love to another—

  Damn. She wanted to hate him for finding someone else when she hadn’t. Couldn’t.

  “Nana?” Benjy called up the stairs, yanking her from Memory Lane. “Aunt Cammie says supper’s ready.”

  A welcome interruption to thoughts racing in circles. “I’m on my way, sweetie.”

  Benjy waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. “You didn’t say hi when you got home.”

  Those big brown eyes. His grandfather’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Nana just had to have a few minutes by herself.” She leaned down to embrace him. “How was your day? I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” he said shyly, and hugged her hard.

  Oh, this precious child who asked for so little from anyone. Cleo shoved away all other concerns and focused on him. “Tell me everything you did.”

  Benjy obliged, full of the wonders of Grammy and Tyrone and Aunt Cammie. They joined the others, and he giggled while describing how Tyrone had sat at the base of the tree house and whimpered to come up.

  “I bet I could teach him to climb if we had a dog ladder, Nana. Think Gramps would help me build one?”

  Everyone at the table broke up at the image of Tyrone making his way up into the tree house. “I’m sure Gramps can figure out something.” Cleo grinned at the idea.

  Even Ria’s eyes sparkled with answering mischief. “Daddy’s going to love that challenge.”

  They shared the smiles of co-conspirators. It was the closest Cleo and her daughter had come to accord in many years.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. “We’ve sold a lot of merchandise off your display. The way you evoked an old-fashioned Christmas tree from a child’s view looking up from beneath elicits an emotional response. More than one person stayed there for a long time with a wistful expression on her face.”

  Ria ducked her head. After a pause, she spoke, her voice quiet. “I had an idea for the corner window, but…the shop looks fine. You probably don’t need it.”

  “If you’d like to tackle the project, I’d be very happy to have you do so. What did you have in mind?”

  Cautiously, Ria broached her concept, and Cleo could readily visualize how stunning it would be, a fantasy of snow and ice and winter magic, perfect for the window that faced the street.

  “It sounds wonderful. Let’s do it.”

  “Really?” Ria’s usual guard dropped.

  “Absolutely.” For a few more golden minutes, they spoke as allies instead of foes, and Cleo savored the rich pleasure of it. “Could you start tomorrow? We should have most of what you need.”

  Ria hesitated. “Will—” She glanced down. “Who’s working tomorrow?”

  Sympathy stirred. Betsey. “Perhaps that isn’t the best day, but oh, how I’d love to have that up right away.”

  “I could—” Ria halted, then began again. “If you would be willing to let me, I could start it tonight, after Benjy’s in bed.” She toyed with her water glass.

  “Oh, Ria, I don’t think—” She’d stolen from Cleo’s purse, all those years ago. To trust her with the shop…

  Ria shoved back from the table, gripping her plate in white-knuckled hands. “I understand. Let’s just forget it.” She reached for Benjy’s plate. “About ready for your bath, sweetie?”

  “Ria—” Cleo’s voice was strained.

  “Do I have to, Mom?” Benjy’s face screwed up in a frown.

  “Hurry up, Benjy,” she snapped. With obvious effort, she composed herself and smiled at her son. “Let’s fill it really high, so you can play whale, okay?”

  Benjy’s eyes widened. “Okay!”

  “Get your pajamas, and I’ll meet you in the bathroom in just a minute.”

  His chair slid backward in a rush. “I should show Gramps how long I can hold my breath. Can we call him, Mom?”

  “Ria—”

  Ria kept walking, still addressing Benjy. “I don’t think Gramps can come tonight, but we’ll talk to him about it the next time he’s here. Deal?”

  “Yeah!”

  “All right, then head up those stairs.”

  He paused on the second step. “Wanna watch how long I can hold my breath, Nana?”

  Cleo overlooked Ria’s obvious reluctance. “I’d love to. Just let me visit with your
mother for a minute, and I’ll be there, too.”

  “Okay.” He raced up the stairs.

  “Ria—” Cleo rose to follow her.

  Her daughter stopped in the doorway to the kitchen but didn’t turn. “What?”

  Cleo pressed on, digging her nails into her palms. “If you really don’t mind getting started tonight, I’ll call to see if Sandor’s still there working. If he is, he can let you in.” She paused. Bit her lip. Somehow we have to break this cycle. “Otherwise, I’ll give you my key and the security code, and you can just leave the key on the kitchen counter if you return after I go to bed.”

  Ria crossed the few remaining steps and set the plates down. When she faced her mother, her expression was as strained and wary as Cleo felt.

  “Thank you,” Ria said softly, blinking hard. “I—I’ll just get Benjy’s bath started.” She went upstairs.

  “Brava, Cleopatra.” In Lola’s voice she heard honest admiration.

  Aunt Cammie merely passed behind and kissed her hair.

  Cleo stared after her daughter. Please. Don’t make me sorry.

  Then she went in search of her purse.

  “I’ll get it! I bet it’s Gramps,” Benjy shouted the next afternoon.

  Cleo finally had a full staff back and had taken time off to spend time with Benjy before Malcolm picked him up.

  When Benjy pulled the door open, sure enough, there stood Malcolm.

  But he wasn’t alone. “Hi, Nana,” Betsey’s daughter Marguerite chortled, her perpetual mischievous grin shining. Her older sister, Elizabeth, was frozen in place, staring at Benjy, who had fallen silent himself.

  “Hello, girls. What a lovely surprise! I haven’t seen you in days.” Cleo knelt beside Benjy, holding one arm around his waist as Marguerite left Malcolm’s side to bestow a big hug.

  Malcolm crouched and cast Cleo a nervous glance before addressing Benjy. “Hi, sport. I brought you a surprise. These are your cousins. Elizabeth is four, just like you—”

  He drew the girl closer, but Cleo could see that Betsey had had her influence.

  “And this crazy cat is Marguerite. She’s three.”

  Their younger granddaughter was already resisting Betsey’s careful molding. She giggled and held up fingers curled like claws and said, “Meow.” Then she extended one hand as if to scratch and hissed. Then giggled again.

  Benjy responded in kind. “Woof, woof,” he answered.

  Marguerite’s eyes lit. She charged through the living room. Benjy was quick to follow.

  Malcolm grinned at Cleo.

  The cacophony of cat-and-dog sounds, accompanied by pounding feet, approached the level of pain. Malcolm rose from his crouch. “I’ll go play traffic cop. Elizabeth, why don’t you talk Nana into accompanying us to the park?”

  “Please, Nana?” Elizabeth squeezed Cleo’s neck. “Gramps says we can go for ice cream after.”

  The offer was tempting. Just then, Malcolm reentered the room. Animal noises segued to unbridled laughter as Malcolm swung them in circles.

  He’d been a magnificent father. As a grandfather, he was even better, and Cleo couldn’t help chuckling at the mischief on his face. Marguerite came by hers honestly.

  He set them both down. “Nana Cleo is really smart, don’t you think?”

  All three children nodded.

  “So that must mean that she would never pass up a chance to go to the park and then for ice cream, right?” Malcolm’s expression gleamed with a combination of dare and enticement, just as they had a thousand times before.

  “You’re going to ruin their supper.”

  “So we’ll get ice cream first, then let them work it off. Anyway, what are grandfathers for?” He grinned. “Give in, Snow. Live a little. Help me spoil them rotten.”

  She threw up her hands, feeling about sixteen. Seventeen, actually—and invigorated by smiling dark eyes and a cold San Francisco breeze on the night that had changed her life forever. “All right, all right. Let me switch my shoes.”

  The chorus of cheers warmed her.

  But it was Malcolm’s smile that stayed with her all the way upstairs to her room.

  An hour later, they sat on a bench, watching the children at the monkey bars. Elizabeth remained on the ground, while Marguerite was already at the top level, with Benjy not far behind.

  Suddenly, Benjy looked back. He reversed his progress until he’d gone halfway. “Elizabeth, we can’t let a little kid beat us.”

  And just that quickly, they were a team.

  Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Malcolm swiveled his head toward Cleo. “That boy’s going a long way in life.”

  “Reminds me of someone else who could talk the birds out of the trees.”

  Her face was alive with memory and a fondness he hadn’t known how much he’d missed. Then she shivered, and he realized that the sun was nearing the horizon. “Cold?”

  She shook her head, but then trembled again.

  Before he could consider the wisdom of it, Malcolm slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  And for a moment, he thought she might let him.

  He saw awareness hit her. She retreated and wrapped her arms around herself, so he did the next best thing and unbuttoned his flannel shirt, then draped it over her shoulders.

  “You only have a T-shirt, Malcolm.” She started to give the shirt back. “You’ll freeze.”

  “In Austin in November?” He snorted. “Who was it who insisted that my thermostat always ran hot?”

  And there they were, tossed back in time to so many winter nights when they’d laughed over Cleo’s cold feet and hands, over how she’d cuddle to share his warmth and he’d gasp with the first icy contact of her toes.

  All he could do was stare at her, his breath stuck somewhere in his chest. Their careful distance had vaporized. He wanted to touch her, to wrap her up in his embrace.

  She looked as shaken as he felt.

  Malcolm rubbed his hands down his thighs and pushed up to his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he stared at the playground…and saw nothing. “I, uh—maybe we’d better get going.”

  Cleo rose, too, but stepped a careful distance away. “Girls, Benjy, time to go.”

  She picked a path across the gravel, her hips swaying slightly with that same sensuous grace that had made his blood run hot for years.

  And still did.

  He wanted to laugh at himself, except it wasn’t funny, not one bit. He lived with another woman and had a child on the way. It was a hell of a time for his heart to be stirring back to life. To be learning that his wife still held it in her slender hands.

  His ex-wife, Malcolm reminded himself. But his damned foolish heart didn’t seem to be listening. He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Okay, girls. Your mother is probably already waiting at my house.”

  Once they’d dropped Cleo and Benjy off, Malcolm drove into his garage, only halfway listening to the girls giggle and chatter. Joanna’s car was parked in her space; she was home early for a change. Betsey’s vehicle was out on the street.

  “Gramps, can we get Benjy tomorrow and go to the park again?” Marguerite and he were fast friends now.

  He smiled. “Not tomorrow, but perhaps this weekend we can cook something up. What would you think, Elizabeth?”

  She nodded. “Nana said we might have a slumber party, if Mommy says okay. You could come, too, Gramps.”

  Ah, the innocence of children. He pushed open the door to the utility room and watched them race through, thinking about what Cleo would say if he showed up for a slumber party at her house.

  He was still smiling as he entered the living room. The girls chattered on to their mother, but he could feel the tension.

  It only took a glimpse of Joanna’s pale and set face, then at Betsey’s stiffness, to guess what had happened.

  He would have bet the farm that Joanna would never tell anyone. But however it had evolved, Betsey knew about the baby now.

  And she didn’t like
it one bit.

  “Hi,” he said. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “Mommy, we met Benjy and he went with us to get ice cream and play in the park,” Marguerite enthused. Then she shot a glance at Malcolm. “But we didn’t ruin our supper, honest.”

  He winked. “Thanks, honey. Nice save.”

  But Betsey seemed even more troubled now. She kept her voice light, however. “And did you have fun?”

  “Yes!” Marguerite said. “Nana might let us have a slumber party with Gramps and her. Want to come, Mommy?”

  Both women cast him startled looks.

  Malcolm turned his palms upward. “Hey, I’m only the driver. I just now heard about this plan.”

  Betsey frowned. “Girls, Gramps can’t go to a slumber party at Nana’s house. And we’ll just have to see what her plans are. Maybe now is not a good time.”

  They both groaned and began to plead about how much fun it would be.

  Joanna stood up first. “Please excuse me. It’s been a hard day. I think I’ll lie down for a few minutes.”

  “Can I get you anything?” Malcolm asked.

  She shook her head. “Not at the moment. I just want to rest and hope my stomach will settle.”

  “Let me see them out, and I’ll be right there.”

  “There’s nothing you can do, Malcolm.” But she might as well be saying the rest of it out loud. The words hovered in the air between them.

  Nothing—except let me take care of this.

  Malcolm exhaled sharply, drained by the weight of too many complications. His grace period was half-gone, and he hadn’t yet convinced her.

  “Daddy—”

  He turned toward Betsey, noting the confusion in her gaze. “Bets—”

  “Girls, go on out to the front yard and wait for me. I need to talk to Gramps a minute.”

  “Give me a hug, you gorgeous things.” He knelt and opened his arms.

  Both girls raced toward him and covered his face with kisses. “Thank you, Gramps. I love you.”