Morgan's Child

by Pamela Browning

  "Amazing," Kate said.

  "How about you, Kate? Are you happy?"

  "Reasonably so," she said, avoiding his eyes.

  "Your job is as you expected?"

  "Yes. And I've rented a nice house, I have a group of friends, and—" She paused. She couldn't go on lying. "And I hate all of it," she finished, meeting his eyes bleakly.

  "What went wrong?" he asked in a low tone.

  She set her glass on the coffee table and walked to the wide window. "I don't know," she said in a troubled voice. She twisted Morgan's wedding ring around and around on her finger.

  He approached her, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet.

  "I think I do," he said quietly.

  She didn't speak, and she didn't look at him. Their history was so deep and so complicated. Their love—if that's what it had been—had strangled on its own problems. She didn't want to talk about regrets. It was better to let it go and slough off her past life like an old skin.

  "You miss us," Morgan said. He turned her to face him, his eyes searching her face. "Don't you?"

  Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and she forced herself to remain calm. She didn't trust herself to answer because she was haunted by the specter of what might have been if only the circumstances had been different. Of course, if the circumstances had been different, they might never have met at all.

  "Kate," Morgan said as if reading her thoughts, "what we had together was wonderful, and I don't regret any of it. I never will."

  She felt the unraveling of her defenses as he gazed deep into her eyes. Then, without knowing quite how it happened, she was in his arms, her face crushed against his neck, his heart beating in her ears.

  "Kate, oh, Kate, you should have known you couldn't leave us behind. You're part of us, of Pearl and me, part of our lives."

  Kate felt dampness on her cheeks and realized that she was crying. She tried to wipe the tears away, but Morgan beat her to it, kissing the tears one by one.

  "I thought it would be all right once I got to Maine," she said, sobbing, "but it wasn't. Oh, Morgan, I thought I was incapable of loving anyone or of being loved. Before, when I was engaged to Mitch, I felt betrayed when he faked the research results. I was outraged and angry."

  "That has nothing to do with us."

  "It does, because after I began to love you, I didn't trust you, and all my worst nightmares came true when I found out that you'd hidden Saldone's investigation of me. In my mind you'd done almost the same thing Mitch did," she said.

  "Keeping Tony's information to myself was stupid and ill-advised. I thought I could use my money and influence to help you, Kate, but I realized after I'd done it that all I'd accomplished was to dig my own hole deeper. I would have done everything in my power to make you stay. I love you, Kate. You've known that for a long time," he said.

  "And I love you. I've known that for a long time, too, only I couldn't admit it. Oh, Morgan, can you ever forgive me?"

  He cradled her close. "We both have things to forgive, I think. Won't you come back? And make this a family Christmas for Pearl and you and me?"

  She wound her arms around his neck, glorying in the length of his body pressed against hers. "I am back, Morgan," she said. "I love you and Pearl so much, and she's my responsibility. I brought her into the world, gave her life, and I can't just leave her the way my mother left me or the way Courtney ran out on her. Didn't you tell me that Rhetts always live up to their responsibilities?"

  "Always," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "And you, my darling Kate, are still a Rhett, legally by marriage."

  "I love you, Morgan," she said, getting a feel for the words.

  His lips brushed against her hair. "This day is a new beginning for both of us," he said.

  "For all three of us," Kate said, smiling through her tears. "Merry Christmas, Morgan."

  "Merry Christmas," he said, and then he held her as though he would never let her go.

  And he wouldn't, because they were a family now. But then, maybe they always had been.

  "I think I hear our daughter," he said.

  "Me too. Maybe we should check on her," said Kate.

  "You just want to lure me into the bedroom wing," he said, leaning back to look at her with a glint of humor in his eyes.

  "And you're eager to take me up on it," she said, smiling at him.

  "Darling Kate," he said, and he lowered his lips to hers.

  Epilogue

  "Happy birthday, dear Pearl, happy birthday to you," they all sang, and Pearl, her paper party crown slipping down over one eye, plunged both fists into her birthday cake. Kate, foreseeing this development, had snatched the one candle away barely in time.

  "Who will blow out the candle?" she asked.

  "You, and make a wish on Pearl's behalf," Morgan told her, curving an arm around her shoulders.

  Kate thought about the things she could wish for her child. A happy life? No, Pearl had never known anything else. A family who loved her? No, this gathering of the Rhetts and Dumonts proved that Pearl had that in abundance. In fact, Christopher and Melissa were even now encouraging Pearl's tentative steps in the direction of her presents piled high at the end of the living room.

  "Blow the candle out, Kate, or it will burn your fingers!" Joanna warned.

  Kate wished and blew, and the flame went out. Morgan, Charlie and Joanna clapped, and Kate went to help Pearl open her gifts.

  That night, when they were alone in their darkened bedroom, watching the reactivated beam of Yaupon Light in the distance, Morgan said, "What did you wish for Pearl today? I saw the expression on your face, and you looked so happy."

  Kate stood behind him and slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on one of his broad shoulders. She wore only a lace nightgown, sheer and held up by two straps of narrow satin ribbon.

  "Guess," she said.

  "Well, was the wish for Pearl or for yourself?"

  She lifted her head and frowned at him. "It wouldn't be fair to wish for something for myself on Pearl's birthday, although in a way it was for me, I suppose. Anyway, I have everything I ever wanted. The Marc Theroux Fellowship and the chance to direct meaningful research, a handsome husband who adores me, and a darling little daughter. No, I'd say this wish was for something Pearl needs."

  "I give up. That child has everything any kid could want."

  He turned around to take her in his arms, and she smiled up at him.

  "She doesn't," Kate said as she began to unbutton Morgan's shirt, "have a brother or sister."

  "That's true. Does she need one?"

  "Most definitely. I don't want her to grow up a lonely only child as I was."

  "I didn't think you were too eager to repeat the childbirth experience," he said, kissing her temple.

  "Actually, I'd rather have babies the way oysters do. It's a whole lot easier," she said.

  "But it's much more fun to fertilize eggs the way people do, and I missed that the first time around."

  "Then," Kate said, "perhaps we should try it as soon as possible."

  Morgan laughed. "Are you sure you haven't been eating oysters? They're well-known for their aphrodisiac qualities, you know," he said.

  "I haven't noticed that I've needed an aphrodisiac," Kate said as he slowly untied the ribbons at her shoulders. "And neither," she said pointedly as the nightgown rippled to the floor, "have you."

  Morgan laughed again, and then, by the light of the lighthouse, he swept her off her feet and took her to bed.

  The End

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  Circles of Love Series

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  Pamela Browning

  Award-winning Author

  HANDYMAN SPECIAL

  Reviews & Accolades

  "A touching love story with unique characters wrapped in an unforgettable plot."

  ~Romantic Times

  He approached slowly, willing her to look up and see him, but she did not. She was walled inside her grief, far away from the world and from him.

  "Sage," he said, stopping about ten feet away.

  She lifted her head, startled. He moved toward her, and nothing else mattered except that he had come to her when she needed him. She floated somehow, lighter than air, lighter than light, until she was encompassed by his embrace and her cold cheek scraped against his jacket smelling of cinnamon and cloves.

  In the instant before they touched he saw it. Transcending the pain of Joy's disappearance was an emotion so real and so beautiful that he could not for a moment doubt its honesty. She loved him. He was sure of it. He didn't know how it had happened or why, but he had caught her in this off-guard moment, a moment of need, and the love, though unspoken, was so eloquent that there was no need for words.

  "We'll find Joy, my darling," he said, his arms sure and strong around her.

  "Oh, Adam, I'm so worried. It's all my fault," and Sage blurted the story of how Joy had wandered away from their picnic.

  She was exhausted, her nose clogged from crying, and the skin around her eyes was puffy and red. She hated having Adam see her like this, but he didn't seem to care how she looked. He tilted her face toward his so that she could see his eyes, so dark and so comforting. In them she saw kindness and decency and deep caring. Even though she had lost the one thing she'd always placed before everything else in her life, her child, Adam was there. His presence couldn't make up for Joy's absence, but it comforted her.

  Adam pulled her close once more and bent his head to nestle his face into her shoulder, making himself believe that they would really find Sage's daughter. Her vulnerability where Joy was concerned had always touched him, but this broke his heart. Sage's grief turned him inside out, leaving his emotions raw and bleeding. She had suffered enough; the injustices in her life already seemed too much for one person to bear. She had rallied after each blow, had picked herself up and dusted herself off and overcome whatever setbacks life had thrown in her way, to succeed in her work and with her family and as a mother. She didn't deserve this—she didn't!

  The cold wind pressed in on them with all the weight of the world, and a fine misty rain began to fall.

  "Let's go inside," he said finally, when he decided the weather was too biting for them to stay outside. He'd take care of her, stand by her through all of this, whatever happened.

  She pulled away, then pressed her hand into his and, for his sake, dredged up a reluctant smile.

  "That's my girl," he said, sounding more optimistic than he felt.

  Handyman Special

  Circles of Love Series

  Book Four

  by

  Pamela Browning

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  Pamela is a former newspaper reporter, columnist and feature writer who has written 50 books for adults and children. She's worked as a college public relations guru, an editor, and a cruise lecturer.

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Author Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from HANDYMAN SPECIAL (Circles of Love Series, Book 4)

  Meet the Author