He flew back to her, his face etched in terror. “Lissa! Oh, God, baby, don’t. You’ll rip open your wound or hurt your lung!” Despite his plastered wrist, he swept her into his arms, untangled the IV line and carried her back to bed, laying her down with exquisite tenderness. “Does it hurt?”
Tears pouring down her face, she whispered, “My heart hurts, Mitch. Fix it for me. Tell me you’re not leaving me. Please.”
His face twisted; he stepped back. “I’m not leaving you. I can’t bring myself to leave this time—not when I know how it feels to be with you. I’ll be at Old Man Taggart’s place, where I belong. Lissa’s ghost,” he jeered himself bitterly, “watching from the window of a fallen-down rat trap while you find life and love and everything you’re entitled to. It’s a fitting end for ever believing I had the right to make you love me.”
She ached and hurt for him, her gallant, limping hero. She ached with love and fierce protectiveness. “You didn’t make me love you,” she said softly, once the pain subsided. “I fell in love with you of my own free will. Why t you deserve that, Mitch? What separates you from the rest of the human race, that you can’t be loved like any other man?”
“I’m nothing,” he grated harshly. “Just a hooker’s unwanted bastard pushed around from place to place, good only for unpaid labor. I don’t give a damn about the title I’ve got or the work I do—I’m still the baby on the church steps, the kid who latched on to you and wouldn’t let go. I took you, ate and drank up your love, treated you like you were mine. You deserve so much more than that.” His eyes met hers, hard, hurting. “You deserve more than I can give you. When you were shot, I realized what the hell I’d done to you by bringing you into my sordid life. The princess and the pauper.” His face filled with self-loathing. “Go find your prince, baby. He sure as hell ain’t me.”
“I’m not a princess, Mitch, even though that’s how I’ve always felt around you,” she said quietly. “I’m just an ordinary woman who wants to be loved by the man she loves. I love our kids dearly, but I need you. You’re the most beautiful thing to ever come into my life. I don’t give a damn if you’re a prince in disguise or a hooker’s child—you’re the man I love. I loved you at fifteen, and I love you now. And you have rights, because I give them to you—the right to love me back, the right to marry me, live with me until we’re old and share a life with our children and our children’s children.”
He was shaking now. “Damn it, Lissa, I can’t. I—” He wheeled around, ready to bolt.
“Don’t make me hurt myself again to follow you, Mitch,” she said quietly. “And you know I will.”
With a strangled curse he fell into the chair beside her, burying his face in his plastered arm. “What do you want from me, Lissa? Tell me something I can give you.”
“All right.” She laid a tender hand on his mess of curls. “You told me, when you sang to me, you’d do anything for me.”
He lifted his face to hers, ragged and raw. “Do you doubt it? But I can’t marry you, Liss. I’m not good enough for you.”
She ached so bad, trying not to show it. “There’s something else I need. Something only you can give me. Then, if you want to leave me, I’ll let you go.”
“Want to leave you? I—” He raked a hand through his hair. “What is it you need?”
She could feel the tears shimmering in her eyes, the old terror of rejection welling in her heart; but still she said it. “Your child, growing inside me,” she said softly.
His head snapped up, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t look capable of words.
“It might take a while, though. I’d like two babies, maybe three. We might have to get a lot of practice in. You’ll have to make love to me an awful lot.” The hovering tears finally spilled onto her cheeks, but she smiled. “I know we already have three kids. But I’ve been so jealous of Kerin for having what I wanted. Your love. Making love to you. Your children inside her.”
“I always loved you, Lissways,” he said hoarsely. “Kerin knew that, which is why she never told anyone I married her—she was too bitter.” When she gasped he nodded, pulling out his wallet. “I told you I wouldn’t let my kids have the same sort of life I did. I married her as soon as she told me she was pregnant. But because I didn’t love her, she ran off a couple of months later, telling me it wasn’t my baby, anyway, and she’d send divorce papers. Then when she came back later with the boys, hoping for a reconciliation, she was furious that Shea was there. She was always unstable, on the obsessive side. She hated playing second fiddle to you. It drove her crazy.” He shrugged, and handed over a folded piece of paper. “I kept this for the boys. I wanted them to know they were wanted, loved—by me, at least.”
She looked at the paper in her hand. “Certificate of Marriage for Mitchell John McCluskey and Kerin Ann Burstall.”
Her eyes swimming in tears, she handed it back. “I should have known—I should have always known you married her. A pilot, an officer and a gentleman. My honorable Mitch,” she whispered.
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable, and stuffed the paper back in his wallet. “Not enough to stick with her, to get her off the drugs. I should have helped her more, seen what was coming.”
“She was a drug addict. She stole from you and kidnapped her own children. She’d have ruined the boys’ lives as well as yours. You didn’t kill her. She chose to do what she did, and would probably have done it if you had loved her. With some people, more is never enough.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Like me. I know you love me, but it’s not enough to have your love from a distance. I want to marry you, grow old with you, have more babies with you. Make love with you for the rest of my life.”
“Baby, I’m not good enough for you! Don’t you get it? I’ve already let you down, more than once. I’ll do it again.”
“As I’ll let you down. As I already have let you down. I’ve tested you and hurt you and thrown your love back in your face. I didn’t believe you’d married Kerin even though I knew you better than that. Did that stop you loving me, needing me?”
“Never,” he uttered hoarsely.
“Then why should the fact that you saved my life when a bunch of greedy kids shot me in a place I went to of my own free will change how much I love you, how much I need you to be with me? Why should it stop us making a life together?”
Slowly, a soft, needing light came to life in his eyes, and she prayed he was starting to believe. “You said you didn’t want a life with me in Breckerville.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I know. And part of me meant it. Then. Before I knew what danger I’d put myself in by being so stubborn about your protecting me, being so romantic about the Nighthawks and wanting to be a hero—like you were with Hana.” She sighed. “But at the moment life in Breckerville with you and the kids, and maybe a few more babies, sounds perfect.”
“And the Nighthawks?” He watched her closely. “Do you still want that?”
She shrugged, embarrassed. “What can I say? Something about it calls me…knew myself until this case came up. Maybe I’m a danger addict. Maybe I want to make a difference. And we did, Mitch. We made a difference to Hana’s family, to that girl. Your photos might get the world involved, and the war will end. I want to be part of that work in other areas. I’d like a limited, non-life-threatening role, since we have the kids to think of. But if it comes to making a choice between you and the Nighthawks, I take you.”
“Lissa, I can’t make guarantees. I’ve made other enemies in my line of work. What if some other jerk decides to get revenge on me through you or the kids?”
“What if we get run down by a bus tomorrow? What if I get leukemia or cancer? Or one of the kids? There are no guarantees in life, Mitch. We take what we can get, and thank God for what we have—family, love, a partner for life. We can have all that, but only if you trust me to keep loving you. As I’ll have to trust you to keep wanting me, loving me through the good times and the bad. And with four, five or six kids, there’s going to be loads of ups an
d downs for us.” She smiled again, so sure she was winning. “Baby, you may think you don’t deserve me, but I think I deserve to finally have what I want, and what I want is you, the man I love. The man I’ll always love.” She drew another breath. “Marry me, Mitchell John McCluskey. Marry me and share my life, my bed, the good times and the bad.”
“Liss, I don’t want you to be a Nighthawk,” he said raggedly. “I hate the thought of you being in danger.”
Sadness shafted through her, but she didn’t hesitate. She’d never be happy being a Nighthawk if he weren’t a part of her life. “All right.”
He held up a hand. “I hate it. I don’t want it—but I’ll live with it. If it’s what you want. We’ll do it together.” He smiled slowly. “But I have one stipulation—we do backups, pickups or info gathering only—social stuff at embassies, etcetera—and turn down everything when you’re pregnant with those babies you want, or when they’re too little. We wait until they’re weaned, and never take any missions longer than a week. Our kids need us.”
“Done.” She bit her lip as joy bubbled up inside her heart. “So it’s yes? You’ll marry me?”
He grinned, the shadows gone, his eyes mirroring the sweet wonder she knew inside herself. “Tim was right. I haven’t got the artillery to fight you, despite knowing I ought to. Yes, Melissa Jane Miller, I’ll marry you, father your babies, share your life and bed, the good times and bad—and a few Nighthawk missions to fulfil your craving for excitement or making a difference to the world. I may not deserve your love, sweetheart, but I’ll sure try to have earned it by the end of the next fifty years or so.”
She held out her arms to him. “So why aren’t you kissing me already, Skydancer?”
“Hmm. No idea, Countrygirl.” He moved into her arms. Their lips met in a kiss saturated in love, a love with foundations in the past, strengthened by the love of the present, painted in bright colors with anticipation of the future. A lifetime of loving together.
Then he crawled beside her on the bed, caressing her face. “Do you have any idea how much
“Tim made me aware of it today, when he told me off.” Her eyes crinkled with her cheeky grin. “And he made me aware of what I was throwing away if I didn’t take the chance now.”
“Best friends have their uses,” he growled, nuzzling her lips. “It’s about time he threw something positive our way.”
She flushed. “Um, actually, he’s been trying for years. He told me to call you the day he left. He told me you loved me then. He said you’d bolt back home to me. He’s been nagging me to tell you I was free every time he’s seen me since then.”
His brows lifted. “And your reason for not doing this was…?”
“Um, you want another recital of all your supposed sins, or the one about my imaginary fears?”
He groaned. “I think I know them all off by heart by now, my prove-it-to-me woman.”
“What happened to Darren and Will?” she asked suddenly.
“Darren got away somewhere on the island. We think he might have joined the rebel army. Oh, by the way, the UN has decided to get involved. They’re sending in a peacekeeping force from the South Pacific region. With the lack of resources and numbers, the rebels won’t last longer than a month.”
“Good,” she muttered viciously. “And Tumah-ra can get back to normal. I hate to think of such a beautiful place destroyed.”
“We let Will go back to his teaching hospital in Sydney to finish his internship. Along with that plant, which apparently stopped any infection setting in, he saved your life, Liss. He got you breathing again and kept you alive until we got here.”
“We should invite him home one day, to see the boys. He’s their uncle.”
He kissed her. “I adore you, you know that?”
“Oh, I know.” Her eyes twinkled. “An appropriate emotion for my husband to express on regular occasions.”
“Um, I’m happy to volunteer for wedding-dress collection and organizing a wedding here—provided I’m best man, of course,” Tim said, standing in the doorway with Ron and the kids.
Grinning, Mitch cradled Liss in his arms. “This is a really weird sort of déjà vu, don’t you think?”
Tim laughed. “I was sort of heading in the direction of poetic irony or delayed justice, but hey, I’m easy.”
“Mummy!” Jenny tiptoed over to them, her eyes bright. “Are you all better now?”
“Much better, darling.” Lissa cuddled into Mitch, and held out a hand to her daughter. “You want to be my bridesmaid?”
Jenny turned to Tim, but when his smiling face reassured her, she nodded. “Can I wear my pretty dress?”
“That’s what your daddy bought it for.”
“What about you guys?” Mitch grinned at his sons, hovering uncertainly in the doorway. “I’m looking for a couple of guys to make sure Uncle Tim doesn’t botch it for me. He hasn’t got a great track record with weddings.”
Tim choked on laughter, and patted Mitch’s shoulder. “Only when I’m the groom, mate. Best man I can handle…and I promise I won’t get drunk this time.”
“Don’t I get a hug, boys?” Lissa asked. “I’ve missed you so much.” She held out her other hand to them, but still they hovered, identical in their terror-filled memories.
Lissa’s face gentled. “I’m fine, guys. I’ll be out of here in a few days, and we’ll head to a resort for our honeymoon. After all, we’re all getting married here. Becoming a family. Always together.” She turned to Mitch, her eyes glowing with love, with tender understanding of his sons’ fears. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”
“Dead right. We’re a family, guys.” He gestured to the boys, and smiling in identical joy, they bolted into their parents’ waiting arms. “And that includes your aunty Alice and uncle Brad, your cousins and Nanna and Pop. They’ll all be here to see us get married, and Nanna and Pop will be staying with you guys in a resort next door to ours, while Mum and I do a few, um, honeymoon things. The nights will be ours,” he added softly, for Lissa alone to hear.
“Good,” she whispered back, her eyes shining.
Tim choked again. “Uh, Ron, I think this is our cue to fly back to Breckerville and get Lissa’s dress and the paperwork.” Smiling, the two men headed for the door, while Lissa and Mitch kissed their children again, then each other.
Love had finally proven to be its own miracle.
Epilogue
Ten days later Mitch heard the words he’d been dreaming of for seventeen long years. “Squadron Leader McCluskey, you may kiss your bride.” The local RAAF chaplain smiled and winked.
Mitch, standing proudly in his RAAF uniform, bent to kiss his new wife, dainty and unspeakably lovely in her soft ivory lace, wearing her star sapphire, her wedding band and a certain old, slightly faded and rusted, still-cherished pink locket she’d made Tim bring up from her jewelry case back home.
Lissa. Lissa McCluskey. Finally his
bride. His woman, his brave, beautiful Nighthawk woman, to stand beside him and share his life forever.
As he’d share hers.
“My husband,” she whispered, her eyes filled with love.
He kissed her again, then wheeled her in the hospital-issued wheelchair to sign their marriage papers. Then he’d sign his wife out of the hospital to start their life together.
After a quiet champagne dinner at a local seafood restaurant, Lissa linked her hand in his and gave him that look—the look of yearning and love he would cherish for the rest of his life. He smiled and kissed her softly, in loving prelude; then he cleared his throat. “I think everyone will forgive us if w disappear now.” He grinned and ruffled his sons’ heads and blew a kiss at Jenny. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Lissa, glowing incandescent, kissed their children, her joyful parents and sister, Tim and Ron, hugged them all, then put her hand in his. “Let’s go.”
About to walk out the door, Lissa turned back, and the three kids ran into her arms, hugging her with tender care for
her recently healed wound. But she called softly, “Tim.”
Her ex-husband looked at her, brows raised.
“Thank you, fairy godmother.” She smiled, wrinkling her nose in gentle teasing. “Best friend. Father of my daughter. Family forever.” Her arms full of Mitch and the children, overflowing with love, she beckoned.
Mitch grinned and nodded. “Get over here, you geek. You, too, Ron and Will and Marie and Stan,” he added to his new parents-in-law. “Everybody, in fact. Can’t you tell the appropriate moment for group hugs?”
Tim came to them, followed by his smiling partner, Lissa’s joyous parents and sister, Alice, with her family, and finally Kerin’s hesitant brother, unable to believe he’d been so forgiven. “Now this is the weird déjà vu, if you ask me,” Tim remarked, laughing. “The two best friends I have in the world, finally together. The universe getting appropriate revenge on my selfish, immature and indeed dastardly manipulation of events—”
Mitch met his wife’s gaze over the heads and bodies snuggling into them, saw Lissa as brimful of joy and laughter as he was. “Shut up, Tim,” they chorused together, as they’d done so often as kids. Then their lips met again, holding all the people they loved best in the world—her family, now his family, too. His own family at last.
Finally all he’d ever dreamed of was his…because of Lissa. Always Lissa. Forever Lissa.
Nighthawk’s woman.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8258-6
WHO DO YOU TRUST?
Copyright © 2003 by Lisa Chaplin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Who Do You Trust? Page 24
