He did and stared at the electronic marvel squealing in his hand.
"What is it?"
"My beeper."
"Beeper."
She explained the principle behind the beeper in simple language, but quickly realized that the sound fascinated him more than the reason behind the sound.
"I wish I had a beeper," David said, reluctantly handing the device back to Sandra. "Then my mommy could call me from where she is."
A silence that could only be described as hideous fell over the room.
Michael bent down and put his hands on his son's bony shoulders. "Mommy can't call you," he said. Sandra had never known his voice could sound so soft, so openly vulnerable. "Do you remember what I told you about going to heaven?"
David nodded, his forefinger once more glued to his bottom lip. "I forgot, but I remember now."
Michael stood up. Annie reached over and ruffled David's hair, and Sandra felt a sudden, unexpected stab of envy over the woman's easy rapport with the boy.
"We have some of the baby animals for tomorrow's parade in the workshop," Annie said. "How about coming over to Altar Ego and taking a look?" Her golden eyes darted from Michael to Sandra, then back again. "We have a litter of puppies that – "
That was all David had to hear. "Can I? Can I?" He leaped around his father, Sandra and her beeper forgotten.
The relationship between Annie and the child was obviously a warm one and, Sandra assumed, one of long standing. It wasn't difficult to figure out that her appearance on the scene was going to have quite a few repercussions.
Not all of them good.
Michael hesitated, meeting her eyes over his son's head.
More than anything, Sandra wanted to get as far away from that room as was humanly possible. All she had to do was say she had to get back home, move her car out of a tow-away zone and meet Queen Elizabeth for a quick dinner (pick one) and Michael would instantly back her up.
But she looked at David's face, and something inside her shifted. Maybe she wasn't as far removed from that five-year-old as she liked to think. When she was his age, a litter of puppies was like having a month of Christmas mornings one right after the other.
She winked at Michael.
"You sure?" he mouthed.
She nodded. "I'm sure."
"Ten minutes with the puppies," Michael said. His voice was stern, but his eyes twinkled merrily. "Then we head out for supper."
David's "Thanks, Daddy" was lost as he raced for the door and Altar Ego.
Annie stayed behind a moment. "I'll have him back in time," she said, looking from Sandra to Michael and plainly weighing the import of what was happening between them.
"That won't be easy, Gage," Michael said. "Not with the way he feels about puppies."
Annie straightened her shoulders and grinned. "Don't worry. I can be tough when I have to be."
With that she went after David, and relief almost knocked Sandra to the floor.
"He'll love you for that," Michael said, drawing her into his arms despite the audience they had in the studio.
"He doesn't even realize what happened," Sandra said, breathing in his familiar scent. "All he's thinking about right now are those puppies."
"It went pretty well, I thought."
"Did it?" Sandra made a face. "I was scared to death. You should have given me a list of appropriate topics of conversation. I never felt so bewildered in my life."
He kissed her forehead. "You did fine. Just remember what you liked when you were five years old, and you're home free."
She shook her head. "I don't think I was ever five."
"Yeah, you were," he said. "I was there. You were a snotty little girl with shiny blond hair and patent-leather shoes."
"I was not!" Her memories were of a rough-and-tumble tomboy.
"You hated dirt and mud and falling down."
"Sounds sensible." His words were bringing back memories of hopscotch games on the sidewalk, of jumping rope in front of apartment building, of the sounds of Yankees games floating across the hot summer air as everyone waited for the Good Humor man to show up.
"You were prim and proper, and I think I fell in love with you the day you showed up in first grade in your navy-blue uniform with the bright-red ribbons in your hair."
She looked up at him, puzzled. "You can't possibly remember that." Elinor had had a fresh red grosgrain ribbon ready to tie in Sandra's hair every morning. It was one of the small but important things that had somehow given Sandra a sense of family, of security.
His words called up memories so tender that she almost wished they'd remained buried in the back of her heart.
"I haven't forgotten a thing, Sandy."
She glanced at the stone angel, her likeness, and knew he spoke the truth.
"Your son looks just like you," she said, her voice catching slightly. "I'd know him anywhere."
"He has Diana's hair, but everything else is pure McKay." The look on his face was one of such pride that it was almost painful to see.
"You're lucky," she said quietly. "I never realized how lucky before I saw him."
Nothing she had ever done with her life, nothing she would ever accomplish on the job, could come close to the miracle Michael and his wife had created the day David was born.
He kissed her hair. "Now I am," he said softly. "Now I'm beginning to believe in second chances."
He talked of a future she wasn't sure was possible for them. David was a major responsibility and, by rights, Michael's first responsibility.
Raising a child took time and money and love.
So did the care of Elinor Patterson.
Was it fair to entangle Michael's future and his son's in something as devastating, both emotionally and financially, as that?
Was it fair to keep it a secret?
She felt trapped, damned by her promise to Elinor to keep her illness secret.
And damned by her own reluctance to risk losing this miracle she'd just found.
Behind them, the apprentices struggled with the melody of an old Miracles tune, the basses and the baritones battling for supremacy. Finally a clear, trembling falsetto rose above the rest and blended everything together in a harmony so sweet it brought quick, sharp tears to her eyes.
Michael hugged her tight and she said nothing, letting the fierce love she felt for him flow with the music and the moment.
There was no turning back now, no playing it safe. This was the man she loved, the man she'd walk through fire for, the man she'd defend with her life.
David came tumbling back into the room with three puppies at his heels, and Sandra's heart turned inside out.
How ironic that it had taken more than fifteen years to return to the place where she'd started.
To the man she'd always loved.
And to the child that should have been theirs.
~~
Chapter Ten~~
Sandra was sprawled across his living-room sofa, her eyes closed, her long legs propped up on the arm.
"Tired?" Michael asked, sweeping up the last of the pizza crusts Davey had scattered on the rug.
"Exhausted?" The word sounded suspiciously like a yawn.
Michael grinned. "The David McKay Show wore you out, huh?"
One eye opened. It was amazing how much outrage one sleepy blue eye could convey. "I have a lot of energy," she said. "I'm just conserving it."
"Conserving it for what?" Michael dropped down next to her, his hand playing lightly with a stray lock of her hair. "Do you have something special in mind?"
"Yes," she said. "Getting myself home in one piece."
"I'll drive you back." He watched as she stifled a yawn, and then sat up straight. "I'll bundle Davey in a few blankets and strap him in the back seat."
"It's not far," she said, smoothing her hair down with the palm of her hand. "I'll be okay."
"I don't like you out there on the road so late."
She laughed, amused. "How did I ever manage without you, Micha
el?"
Damned if he didn't feel a blow to his male pride, but he refused to let her know it. The truth was, he wanted her more dependent, more needful of the tenderness and concern that hid behind his macho exterior.
The way he needed her scared him. His need was wrapped around his heart; it tore at his sinews and burrowed inside his bones until it was a physical ache.
At times she seemed so distant, so self-contained and solitary that, despite the words of love and the past they shared, he wondered how he figured in her life.
He'd asked her to stay the night, but she'd refused and he hadn't pressed her. This wasn't the time to add any more fuel to Art Bentley's fire – and the presence of Sandra Patterson was enough to start a forest fire.
There'd been another message waiting for him from Art when he got home, and two from his lawyer. None of the message was good. Art was on the Italian-racing-bike kick again, and Michael had simply fast-forwarded his way past the usual tirade while Sandra and Davey went out to pick up the pizza.
His lawyer's message was something else again. Art had hired a private investigator, and was determined to catch Michael in something unsavory.
Something like having a woman in his house.
He forced the thought from his mind. Across the room Pepper squawked and Sandra laughed.
"Rodan the Flying Monster's at it again," she said, tilting her head in the parrot's direction. "I nearly passed out when David let him out of his cage."
"Rodan weighs two pounds, sandy. I think you can handle him."
"Two pounds of beak."
"You'll get used to him."
"Don't bet on it."
He pulled her to her feet and held her close.
"What about Davey?" he asked. "Can you get used to him?"
"Maybe the question is, can he get used to me."
"He's like his father," Michael said, nuzzling the side of her neck, savoring the warm pounding of her pulse beneath his lips. "He has great taste in women."
She pulled away from him slightly and looked up into his eyes. "He certainly likes Annie Gage."
"Jealous?"
She didn't flinch. "Yes."
"I like that."
"I don't."
"When I saw you with that Ed McGregor – "
"Gregory."
"Whatever. When I saw you standing with that guy in the White Castle I wanted to punch that smug grin off his face."
"I'm glad you didn't. I might have lost my job." A smile twitched at the right-hand corner of her luscious mouth. "Though the thought of it does have its appeal."
He smiled back. "See what I mean?"
"There is a slight difference here, though. Ed's no threat. I'm not that sure about Annie Gage."
She watched him intently, but he said nothing. He knew that anything he said now would only foster her insecurities, even though they were without foundation.
So tell me you two don't have anything going on," she said.
"We don't have anything going on."
Her blue eyes narrowed. "Now or ever?"
"Ever," he said. He hadn't wanted to risk the friendship or his son.
"I'm surprised. She's very attracted to you"
"It's mutual."
She gave him a quick jab to the stomach. "I want honestly, but that's carrying it too far."
"And I want you to know you have no competition." He put his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. "You never have, Sandy. You never will."
"I love you," she said. "That was the one thing that never changed."
He took a deep breath and moved closer to the edge of his emotions.
"So what are we waiting for?" he asked, trying to make himself sound more lighthearted than he actually felt. "Why don't we take the plunge?"
She laughed, sounding as nervous and uncertain as he was. "You want to swim?"
"I want to marry you."
She grew very, very quiet.
"We've been heading toward this since we were six years old," he went on. "Why wait any longer?"
"Your son, for one reason," she said, looking more uncomfortable than he would have liked. "And the fact that I'd like a courtship."
"A what?"
"A courtship," she repeated. "Flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. All the things we never had."
He thought back through the years. "I never gave you flowers?"
She shook her head.
"What about the senior prom?" He had a hazy memory of a yellow orchid on a wrist corsage.
"That doesn't count. It was part of the prom package."
"I never gave you roses?"
Her laugh was soft, slightly melancholy. "We were kids," she said. "You couldn't have afforded them."
"And this is important to you?"
She nodded again. "Yes. We missed a lot of things, you and I. I'd like to make up for lost time."
He pulled her even closer, letting his body make a few suggestions of its own. "Making up for lost time sounds like a good idea."
She put her hand flat against his chest. "Not with David in the next room."
"When you marry me you'll have to get used to that."
"When I marry you I will, but I've only known him a few hours, Michael. This takes a little getting used to."
He drew his hand over the beautifully sculpted planes of her face, then down the length of her throat. "Fair warning," he said, unable to control the brief stab of anger that sharpened his voice. "I'm not a patient man."
Her eyes widened and he thought he saw fear in them, but before he could put a name to the emotion, she smiled. "I'm not asking you to be."
"I want to marry you," he stated flatly. "I don't want to turn around fifteen years from now and wonder why I let you go a second time."
"I don't want that either," she whispered. "I just need time."
"Who knows how much time we have, Sandy? Do you have any guarantees? I sure as hell don't."
"I think we have a few good years between us, Michael." Her voice came at him with an undercurrent of irony that puzzled him, but he was too angry to pursue it.
"We've wasted too much time already," he said, resisting the urge to toss her over his shoulder and drag her back to the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Divine and marry her. "I love you. I want to spend my life with you." He spread his arms wide in a gesture of exasperation. "I don't know how to make it any clearer than that."
"You don't have to make it any clearer," she said. "I understand."
"Then let's do it. Let's call your mother, wherever she is, and get things started."
"Well," she said with an embarrassed grin, "would you believe I don't know exactly where she is?"
He had to laugh. It was terrific to think of Elinor Patterson, who had sacrificed so much to give her daughter a start in life, finally kicking up her heels. "They don't have phones in Pago Pago?"
"I don't know," Sandra said, her grin sliding into a real smile. "I'll have to see if I can dig up her itinerary."
"Elinor must really be cutting loose."
"She is," Sandra said, looking down to adjust the top button of her blouse. "She is."
"Are you going to tell her we're engaged?"
"Not yet. First I'll tell her we're courting."
"You're serious about this courting business, aren't you?"
She raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. The scent of her perfume rose up and around him, dizzing his senses.
"I want everything," she said, telling him with her eyes that she would give everything in return. "I want all the things we've missed: the courtship, the engagement, the plans. We owe it to ourselves. We owe it to David. He needs time to get to know me, time to accept me as part of his life. You can't just add water and have Instant Mom pop up in the kitchen." She kissed him again. "Let him feel he's part of the process, too. It's only fair."
"I thought you didn't know a damn thing about kids."
"I don't. That's just common sense."
He had
always followed his heart while Sandra followed her head, and although it had infuriated him at times, it was one of the many things about her that had always fascinated him.
"Two months," he said. "Two months of flowers and champagne and candlelight and trips to Adventureland with David, then we make it legal."
The sparkle in her eye was back. "Six months."
"Two."
"Four and a half."
"Sixty days. Take it or leave it."
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her lips against the underside of his chin.
"I'll take it," she murmured.
"I thought so."
"You drive a hard bargain, McKay."
Sixty minutes, sixty days, or sixty years from now, she would still be his.
#
Sandra didn't breathe normally until she pulled into her driveway an hour later and turned off the ignition. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her seat, letting the dense throbbing silence of the October night wash away some of the tension tugging at her nerves.
The mournful wail of a foghorn floated in from the Sound, and she shivered and pulled her jacket closer to her body. It was the kind of night that called to mind crackling fires and long kisses, not sitting alone in a car wondering why the happiest experience of her life, this miraculous reunion with Michael, was suddenly going wrong.
All evening she'd felt off balance, as if she were moving one beat behind everyone else. The second Michael had mentioned marriage, which was the obvious, the inevitable next step for them, she'd had to hold herself back from making a run for the door.
And David wasn't the problem.
Oh, she'd had her weak-kneed, sweaty-palmed moment when he'd first exploded into the workroom, a forty-pound package of energy and enthusiasm who'd learned more about sorrow and loss in five years than a more generous fate would have allowed.
But when he looked up at her and she saw those onyx eyes, so like his father's, she knew she was in trouble. Watching David was like being put into a time-capsule and whisked back thirty years to Cornish Avenue, back to the long summers when people slept on the fire escape or up on the roof to get away from the stink of hot tar and the metallic blare of Murray the K and his Swinging Soiree.
Michael wanted a wife, and he needed a mother for his son. Like Sandra, he wanted the chance to recapture the past, the opportunity to build their future.
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