It Began with a Crush (The Cherry Sisters)

by Darcy, Lilian

  Well, clearly he’d come to see her!

  She opened the door to greet him, and couldn’t keep the silly grin off her face and didn’t even really try. “Hi…”

  But he was frowning and tense and unhappy, holding himself very tight, not doing that loose-limbed, openly seductive reach for her that she loved.

  “What’s up, Joe?” She was the one to reach, gripping his hands and squeezing them. He squeezed back, but then tore away, too restless and distracted for body contact.

  “Pony camp is off.”

  “What? But the girls are with Lucy and Jess and Simon right now, I saw them down at the lake beach when I was checking the boats.”

  “I’ve just come from Penelope’s to pick them up.”

  “What happened?” She could see he felt wretched about it, whatever it was. “Tell me!”

  “Penelope’s stallion knocked over his feed bucket and Maddie and Holly went into his day yard and set it the right way up for him, and nothing happened but apparently he could easily have kicked if they’d put themselves between him and his food. They could have been badly hurt. Penelope says she can’t have them there if they’re not going to do exactly as they’re told.”

  “Where was she when this happened?”

  “She’s accepting blame on that. Says she should have made it clear to Lucy that none of the kids were ever to be out of adult sight. She’s not really expelling them, as such, just saying she can’t handle the risk, can’t risk it again.”

  “Well, it certainly sounds like she’s expelling them!”

  He looked at her sideways. “I thought you liked Penelope.”

  “I do like her. I like you better. And—and the girls. I understand…” What did she understand? Their hard start? His painful love?

  All of it, she thought.

  Had he tried to explain any of that to Penelope?

  Of course not. She knew he wouldn’t have. “We can fix this, Joe.” Again, she tried to reach for him and he briefly responded—a trail of his hand across her back, this time—before pulling away.

  “Didn’t sound that way,” he said. “She seemed pretty definite about it.”

  “I can’t bear to think of them being so disappointed when they’ve been loving it so much, and they’ve tried so hard.”

  “Neither can I. They lasted, what, six and a half days?” There was a bitterness to the words that seemed out of proportion, and she suddenly heard them in another context. Was this what he’d said to their mother about her attempts to beat her addictions?

  You said you were kicking it, and you lasted, what, six and a half days?

  It wasn’t the same situation, but to him maybe it felt that way.

  “So can I please talk to her before you say anything to them?” she begged. “Or to Vanessa and Phil and Lucy.”

  “Lucy must know something’s up. She was the one who found the girls in with the stallion.” He swore. “I’m so glad they’re okay. Could have been so much worse. Keep telling myself that.”

  “I’m going to talk to her.”

  He stepped back and looked at her. “I don’t think you should.”

  “Why? I care about you so much, Joe, and I know how much you want the girls to be happy.”

  “I know that, but…” His face softened and scrunched up, and he seemed not to know how to continue.

  And suddenly this was about how she felt, not about the girls. “Do you? Know it?”

  “Hell, yes!” His dark eyes blazed.

  “Good. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I hadn’t cared.”

  “I really, really know it. I do.” He stopped for a moment, then continued on a rush, “It feels amazing, Mary Jane, I have to tell you. The way you’ve given yourself to me, the way you’ve understood so much.”

  “Why do you think it would be so hard for me to give?” She smiled at him, shy and happy. “Don’t you think you’re pretty easy to love?”

  She hadn’t meant to say that word. Love. It was too strong, too full of strings and complications and baggage, and she wasn’t ready for it yet. But the word like was too weak, far too weak.

  Shoot, why had she said it, though?

  Joe didn’t seem to mind. His attention had caught on it, the same way it seemed to catch on the shape of her mouth, all those times he acted as if he couldn’t look away.

  Right now, he couldn’t look away from the L word.

  “You mean that?”

  “Y-yes.” She couldn’t back down from it, because it wasn’t not true—if that made any sense. She didn’t not love him, so did that mean she— “I do,” she told him, taking her courage in hand. “I mean it.”

  She meant it.

  Joe’s head was spinning. He’d come to her out of blind need just now, not knowing what he would say or whether she had any power to help, but somehow she’d done it. She’d said she loved him, and suddenly it all seemed so clear and simple.

  It made sense of the past ten days, of how fast their feelings had moved, of how right everything had been, of how good she seemed to be with the girls.

  “Then let’s get married,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Okay, so he hadn’t planned to say it. Not five minutes ago. Not even a minute. The words had formed as fast as the thought. Did that matter?

  He repeated it, so she would know he meant it, coming close and reaching for her, looking down into her face. Her eyes were huge. “Marry me. I mean it. We’re thirty-five. We know what doesn’t work, and who isn’t right. We’ve had the most amazing ten days together, and we’ve known each other since our teens. We know what we want when we see it, by this point. We know each other’s background. We know all that’s important.”

  “Do we?” She was frowning and uncertain, lashes masking those beautiful eyes now.

  He didn’t understand her sudden doubt. “It doesn’t take long. Don’t you think? You just know.” How did you even put it into words? What did you say? “You’re beautiful, and we get on, it’s been so damned hard doing everything on my own, and the girls would love you for a mom.” He wrapped his arms around her and tried to pull her closer, but she didn’t respond. Or she half responded, feeling stiff and hesitant.

  His certainty flickered, suddenly.

  What had he said? Was it the girls? She hadn’t given him an answer yet, but he knew what it would be before the words came, and it hit him harder than he would have thought possible.

  “No, Joe,” she said.

  “No?” He looked down at her again, filled with a pained disbelief that seemed to distress her, even though she could have relieved it so easily with just one word.

  “No, I won’t marry you. I can’t. I’m sorry. Not like this.”

  “You said you loved me. I feel the same. And I think it’s for the right reasons. I honestly do.”

  “There’s more to it than just that. We’re talking about joining lives. And not just ours, but Holly’s and Maddie’s, too.”

  So it was the girls, then?

  This shocked him. “I thought you loved the girls.”

  “I—I do. I think I do. But I’ve known them ten days. You’re asking me to be their mother.”

  “And you’re saying you can’t.”

  “I’m saying…” She pressed her lips together. “I’m saying it’s too soon. I’m saying I’m not sure that they are the right reasons.”

  “The girls aren’t?”

  “No…no, not that.” Her distress made it hard for him to navigate the difficult conversation and his own powerful feelings at the same time.

  He combed his mind for signs. The other night when they’d all had pizza, she’d turned her shoulder to Holly while the girls were having dessert, and had talked to him about the bar exam, instead, as if she wanted an adult conversation. Should he have read more into that? She’d said she wanted babies of her own, but hadn’t talked about taking on another woman’s children. Was her warmth and love less generous than he’d thought?

&nb
sp; And yet she was distressed right now. He could see it, feel it. He wanted to push her, but his own thought of a few days ago kept coming back to her.

  The girls were a deal-breaker.

  They just were.

  Beyond anything. Beyond compatibility in bed, and shared goals, and humor and warmth and a background they both knew, the girls were the one thing he couldn’t kid himself about, couldn’t leave to chance.

  “I can’t say yes. I just can’t,” she was saying.

  “Okay,” he answered, because it was the only word he could think of.

  “I’m not…dismissing you, Joe.” She laid a hand on his arm and he made a twisting movement so he could stroke his fingers down her skin, because his heart responded to her aura of unhappiness, even when he was trying to end this, find a way to leave. If she really was saying she had doubts about the girls…

  “Not dismissing me, just turning me down,” he said softly, seeking answers she didn’t seem to want to give.

  “I’m trying to protect myself. And you. And the girls. This is wrong. Too soon. All for the wrong reasons. In both of us.”

  This made him rebel. “Don’t you think I know what I want? Don’t you think I’ve been through enough crap in life to have a pretty good idea when I get to the gold? I know what I want, Mary Jane.”

  “Do you? Really?”

  “Either you know or you don’t.”

  “Then…I’d have to say I don’t.” But she was standing so close to him. He had to think that she was a lot more confused than she was saying.

  Maybe he needed to hear her say it straight out.

  I love you, Joe, but I can’t take on the girls.

  “Tell me…” he invited her softly, hoping against hope that she’d say something different, something that wouldn’t end this once and for all.

  “Sometimes it’s really dangerous to know what you want,” she said. “You can make hideous mistakes, trying too hard to get it.”

  It didn’t make sense. He didn’t understand. But her intent was plain. He let her go. “You mean this, don’t you?”

  “I—I do. I think you’ll understand, later, when you really think about it.”

  “Okay.” Again, it was all he could say. He gathered himself. “Uh, I need to get the girls, break the news.”

  For a moment she looked confused, then her face cleared. “Oh, about pony camp.”

  Yes, Mary Jane, not about you turning me down when I asked you to marry me.

  “You’d better,” she said. “But I will talk to Penelope and the Richardsons, and see if there’s—”

  “No. Please. You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem.”

  Especially not now.

  How final was it when a woman rejected your proposal of marriage?

  Pretty final, he had to think.

  Joe left awkwardly. They didn’t touch or kiss or talk about seeing each other again. Mary Jane guessed they weren’t doing that. People tended not to, when a man had proposed marriage and the woman had turned him down.

  Mary Jane’s mind reeled after he’d gone, and the breath stuck in her lungs.

  It was what she’d wanted for so long. All she’d ever wanted, a husband and family, the chance to make a loving home, and Joe had just offered it to her, most of it ready-made. He’d said it as if it was obvious.

  “Marry me.”

  As if it was as easy as buying a new toaster, or choosing dessert, and at the same time as momentous as winning the lottery or moving to France.

  With every beat of her heart, every nerve-ending, every dream-filled, yearning part of her, she’d wanted to say yes the moment she heard the words.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  She could have said it and then she would have been able to start planning a wedding right now, and dreaming of babies. They could have stopped using protection the next time they made love and she might have been pregnant before Daisy and Lee had their babies. It would have meant she could have shared their joy with none of the inner envious misery she feared she might not be able to hide from her sisters when the time came. She’d been struggling enough with their glowing pregnancies. The babies themselves would be much harder.

  Marry me.

  Hearing him ask her that age-old question had felt like crossing the finish line in a race that had lasted her whole adult life—a race she’d thought she would never finish, let alone win. It felt like winning.

  Like a prize.

  Like greedily snatching up the winning balls right out of the lottery machine and breathing a sigh of relief because you’d done it, you’d arrived, you were there.

  But she hadn’t believed in any of it, not really.

  He’d said it too soon and too easily. It couldn’t be that fast or simple. She would have been crazy to trust it, and she had too firm a hold on herself at this point in her life to do that. He’d said it because of what had happened this morning with the girls. He’d felt desperate and alone and emotional and fragile in a way that was very male.

  He’d even said it. The girls would love you for a mom…It’s been so damned hard doing everything on my own.

  And so he’d grabbed at the nearest safety net, the nearest nurturing woman who’d make a good mother for his girls, and it happened to be her.

  If she’d said yes, she would have done it for all the wrong reasons, just as he’d asked her for all the wrong reasons.

  If she’d said yes, she would have despised herself for her own neediness and desperation. For jumping at an offer he wouldn’t be making in the first place if he wasn’t pretty desperate himself. For grabbing so greedily at the chance to be an instant mom. For thinking she could step into the ready-made fantasy of his life, and turn a crush and a few talks and some great moments in bed into a full-on commitment.

  So she’d done the only thing possible. She’d turned him down, turned away from her dream life, and it might kill her yet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You must understand my position, Mary Jane.”

  “I do, Penelope, but if the right systems are put in place…I presume Lucy very rarely let the girls out of her sight before the incident, so for you to make it clear to everyone that they’re never to be out of an adult’s sight isn’t such a big change, is it? You have said that you blame yourself…”

  “I wonder if I should try to run programs for children at all. It’s not my central mission statement, after all. It’s just something I like to do.”

  “Something you believe in.”

  Penelope sighed. “Yes. Unfortunately. I let myself in for a lot of hard work because of it!”

  They were standing by the wash-bay and hitching rails. The stallion’s saddle and saddlecloth sat on the top metal rail, because Penelope had just finished riding him. Glengarlow Breve was embroidered on the saddlecloth, but she always called him Glen. He was magnificent and scary, all glossy black and massively muscled and toweringly tall, with a thick mane and tail, and Mary Jane secretly thought that Maddie and Holly had been incredibly brave—and, yes, very foolish—to go anywhere near him.

  After Joe had left Spruce Bay, several hours ago, Mary Jane had sat back down at the desk, checked the reservations on the website out of habit and seen that a new one had come in for September, a weeklong stay just after Labor Day. Nice, she’d thought. Their season was extending, thanks to the revamp of the resort. Great. Wonderful.

  But she hadn’t been able to care about the success of the resort at that moment. Not really. Most of her attention had been fixed on the resort driveway, waiting to see Joe’s minivan leaving, with two miserable little skinny, dark-haired peas in a pod on board.

  It had taken a full half hour to appear, so she’d guessed there had been more than one tough conversation, over at the Richardsons’ cottage, and many tears to dry.

  Nickie had been taking over in the office at four today, so as soon as Joe’s minivan had disappeared, Mary Jane had gathered her resolve, picked up the phone and arranged to meet Penelope h
ere at her property for a talk now, at four-fifteen, so she could go into bat for a man she wasn’t going to marry and two little girls she didn’t have the right to love.

  So far, it was going about as well as the whole day had done up to this point.

  In other words, not very well at all.

  “I would hate to see you question your whole philosophy over this one incident,” Mary Jane said carefully. “Hasn’t anything like this ever happened before, when you’ve run camps?”

  “We had a ten-year-old boy once, who didn’t want to be here.” Penelope spoke with some reluctance. “He was referred by the county’s children’s services department because they thought it might be good for him, but he deliberately teased the horses. Worse. I caught him sticking nails into an apple. He thought it was funny.”

  Glen snorted and tossed his head and loudly pawed the concrete under his metal hoof, as if he didn’t agree, because apples were way too important to be funny, with or without nails. Penelope told him firmly to stop it. He listened and stood still again, so she stroked his satiny black nose and told him, “That’s right, you remember that boy, don’t you, my lad?”

  “What happened?” Mary Jane asked. “I presume he didn’t stay on.”

  “He didn’t. After half a day, I phoned children’s services and told them I couldn’t have him, and that he needed to be collected right away. I just didn’t have the resources to give him the one-to-one attention he needed.”

  “Holly and Maddie are very, very different, though, Penelope. They adore ponies. Joe has been reading horse-care books to them for a couple of years, he told me, and they hang on every word. This whole thing with Glen happened because they wanted him to have his food. They cared about his well-being. With the boy you’re talking about, it was the opposite.”

  “That’s true.” Penelope turned away from Glen’s beautiful nose and gave her a penetrating look. “You’re arguing this very strenuously, Mary Jane.”

  She heated up. “I—I care about them.”

  Another look. “And their father?”

  “I care about him, too.”

  “Congratulations! How lovely!”

  “No… No. It’s nothing like that.” Although Penelope couldn’t be blamed for getting the wrong idea. Mary Jane had said the words like a confession of love. “He’s just…a friend.”