Hasty Wedding

by Debbie Macomber

  “You’re right,” she said, emotion tattering the edges of her words. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  Regret? Was that what he heard in her voice? Reed didn’t know. He scooted off the bed and aimlessly strolled to the far side of the room.

  “I…I want to go home,” she announced.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she was home, but intuitively he realized now wasn’t the time. The determined, stubborn slant of her jaw assured him of a good deal more. They wouldn’t be able to discuss anything of importance in her present mood.

  “I’ll pack my things. I’d appreciate it if you’d drive me back to Tullue.”

  Reed said nothing.

  “If you’d leave I’d get dressed.” It sounded as if she were close to tears, and not knowing what to say to comfort her, Reed left.

  Reed felt at a terrible loss. He’d never told a woman he loved her, and he feared the moment he opened his mouth he’d blunder the whole thing.

  Clare appeared a few minutes later, her suitcase in her hand. Once again her eyes refused to meet his.

  Reed stepped forward and took the lightly packed bag out of her grasp. He had to say something before she left him. Nervously he cleared his throat. “My grandfather told me something years ago. I didn’t realize the significance of it until recently. It had to do with the reasons our tribe fished during the summer months.”

  Clare cast him an odd, puzzled look.

  Reed tensed and continued. “Grandfather claimed a man couldn’t fight and mate at the same time.”

  An empty silence followed his words, and Reed realized he’d botched it just the way he’d feared. Clare continued to glare at him.

  “We aren’t fighting,” Clare said.

  “Not fight,” he assured her quickly, “but talk.”

  Her eyes drifted shut, and after a moment she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know what more there is for us to say.”

  She was wrong, but Reed didn’t know how to tell her that without invoking her wrath. He searched for a possible excuse to keep her with him. “Don’t you think we should pick up another one of those test kits before you traipse back into town?”

  “Test kits?” she asked, scowling. Pain flashed across her features. “Oh, I see you’re afraid I’m pregnant.”

  “Afraid isn’t the word, Clare.”

  “Terrified then.”

  “No,” he countered. “I’d like it if we had children together. I was thinking about this while you were sleeping and I realized how very pleased I’d be if you were pregnant.”

  “Pleased,” Clare cried. “Pleased! No doubt that would feed your pride if I—”

  “Clare,” he said, losing his patience, “I love you. I’m not looking to bolster my ego. Yes, I want children, but we’ll only have them if it’s what you want, too. It just seemed to me that as my wife…” He stopped midsentence at Clare’s shocked expression. “Clare,” he said her name gently, not knowing what to think.

  She burst into tears and covered her face with both hands.

  If he lived to be an old man, Reed decided then and there, he’d never understand women. He’d thought, he’d hoped this was what she wanted, too, to share his life, his home, his future.

  He guided her to a chair and left her long enough to retrieve several tissues from the bathroom. Squatting down in front of her, he pressed the tissues into her limp hand. It was then that he noticed she’d removed the turquoise ring he’d given her the night they were married.

  She’d been wearing it earlier that day. He found it interesting that she would continue to wear the bulky piece of jewelry when it was so obviously ill suited to a woman’s hand. He had his mother’s wedding band and he’d thought to give her that.

  If she intended to stay in the marriage.

  Perhaps Clare had experienced a change of heart and decided she wanted out. It would be just like fate to kick him in the face when he least expected it.

  “You want me to be your wife?” she asked between sobs. Clenching the tissue in her fist, Clare leveled her gaze on him.

  “You are my wife, or had you forgotten?” It was difficult to keep the frustration out of his voice.

  “I’ve never forgotten…you were the one who contacted the attorney…who insisted from the very first that we take the necessary measures to correct the…mistake.”

  Their gazes held. Reed stood the full length of the kitchen away from her. “Was marrying me a mistake?”

  “At first I wasn’t sure,” she admitted softly. “Everything seemed so right in Vegas. I felt as though I’d been waiting all my life for you.”

  “And later?”

  “Later…the morning after, I didn’t stop to think. It seemed to me, after we were married, the deed was done. I didn’t once consider the right or wrong of it. It never entered my mind that a married couple would entertain regrets quite so soon.”

  “You didn’t know what you were doing,” Reed reminded her forcefully, regretting having brought up the subject of their wedding. Each time he did, he felt as though he’d taken advantage of her.

  “But I did know what I was doing,” she countered. “You make it sound like I was drugged or something. Let me assure you right now, I wasn’t. No matter what you say about me crossing my medication with alcohol, I was fully aware of my actions. If I was behaving out of character there were…other reasons.”

  “Kingston,” Reed muttered under his breath. Clare had ended a three-year dead-end relationship with the other man. Reed should have realized much sooner that had dictated her actions.

  She must have been near giddy with relief to have Kingston out of her life and desperate that no one else would ever want her. A sickening feeling clawed at his stomach. Just when he’d squared everything in his mind, he found another excuse for Clare to want out of their marriage.

  “Yes,” she agreed hesitantly, “I think breaking up with Jack had something to do with it, too.” Reed hadn’t realized she’d heard him say the other man’s name. “I’ve often wondered what you must have thought when I suggested we marry,” she continued slowly. “Surely you knew I’d broken up with Jack. I was absolutely certain no man would ever want me again. If you’re looking to fault me for anything, fault me for that.”

  He nodded and buried his hands deep in his pockets.

  “I’ve never understood why you agreed to marry me,” she said softly, smearing a trail of tears across her cheek. “You can question my motivation with good reason. But it doesn’t help me understand why you agreed to marry me.”

  Reed went motionless. It was the same question Gary had posed the other day, the one Reed had skillfully avoided answering. He could steer around his friend’s inquisitiveness, but not Clare’s.

  Reed was a proud man. He’d never given his heart to a woman, but it seemed to him that if he was willing to spend the rest of his natural life with her then he should be equally amenable to confessing the truth.

  “Why’d you agree to marry me?” Clare asked him a second time.

  “I loved you then just as much as I do now,” Reed admitted stiffly.

  His words were met with a stunned silence. “But we barely knew one another,” Clare argued. “You couldn’t possibly have loved me.”

  Reed lowered his gaze. “There’s a library on the reservation, Clare. Every visit I ever made to the Tullue library was to see you, to be close to you, even if it was only for a few minutes.”

  Her eyes revealed her shock. “But you never said more than a few words to me.”

  “I couldn’t. You were dating Kingston.”

  “But…” She stood, then sat down again as though she needed something stable to hold her. “Why? You didn’t even know me…You don’t honestly expect me to believe you were in love with me, do you?”

  “It was your eyes,” he told her softly, “so serious, so sincere. I saw fire there, hidden passion.”

  “You’ve since proved that to be true,” she muttered, and her c
heeks flushed crimson.

  “I saw joy in you. Your spirit is fragile, it is even now. It was why I named you Laughing Rainbow.”

  “Laughing Rainbow,” Clare repeated slowly, then looked to him once more. “The totem pole you gave me…the top figure is a rainbow.”

  Reed smiled, pleased that she’d made the connection. “I carved that some time ago because I love you. It helped me feel close to you.”

  “Oh, Reed.” She pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips as though his words had brought her close to tears.

  They moved toward each other. Reed closed his arms around her and he sighed with relief. He’d never experienced emotion so deep. He trembled at the depth of it, bottled up inside him for so many years.

  He felt release as though he’d survived a great battle. Weak, but incredibly strong.

  “I don’t want a divorce, Reed,” she told him. She planted her hands on the sides of his face and spread eager kisses over his features. “I want us to stay married. And…there’ll be children. I want them so much.” Her voice trembled with happiness.

  His arms circled her waist, lifting her so he could kiss her the way he wanted, with her making soft whimpering sounds of need. She lifted her face from his and smiled slowly, her eyes laughing. Reed swore he could have drowned in the gentle love he found in her.

  “I could already be pregnant,” she whispered.

  He longed to lose himself in her, yet when he came to Clare he wasn’t lost; instead he’d been found. Her love gave him serenity and peace. Her love was the most precious gift he’d ever received.

  Reed promised himself he couldn’t make love to her twice in one day, not when she was recovering after being so ill, but he felt powerless to resist. “You’ve been sick…weak.” He tried to offer her all the reasons why they shouldn’t, but one more kiss, one silken caress of her hand convinced him he was wrong. He lifted her in his arms and hauled her back to the unmade bed. She raised smiling eyes to him. “Con-serve your strength,” he told her, “because you’re going to need every bit of it.”

  Clare laughed, and Reed swore he’d never heard a sweeter sound. “If anyone needs to conserve their strength it’s you, my darling husband.”

  Clare woke early the following morning while Reed slept contentedly at her side. The drapes were open and the morning was gray and foggy. By midmorning the sky would be pink with the promise of another glorious summer day.

  Clare had made her decision, and Reed had made his. They were man and wife. Her heart gladdened at the prospect of them joining their lives.

  Reed stirred, and she rolled into his arms.

  “Morning, husband,” she whispered.

  Reed’s eyes met hers before he smiled. “Morning, wife.”

  “For the first time since we said our vows I feel married.”

  “Is that good or bad?” he asked.

  “Good,” she assured him, “very good.”

  “How are you feeling otherwise?”

  Clare kissed his nose. “Wonderful, absolutely wonderful.”

  “What about the flu…we didn’t…” He left the rest unsaid.

  “I think we’ve stumbled upon a magical cure. I’ve never felt better and furthermore, I’m starved.” They’d eaten dinner late that evening, close to midnight. Reed was ravenous and had fried himself a thick T-bone steak. Clare was content with soup, not wanting to test her stomach with fried foods.

  Afterward they’d cuddled on the sofa and he’d entertained her with tales of adventures from his childhood. Stories of learning to fish with his hands, of hiking deep into the woods and finding his way home, guided by the stars, and what he’d learned from the forest. Before returning to bed, he placed a plain gold band—the band his mother had worn—on the fourth finger of her left hand.

  “Do you want breakfast in bed?” Reed asked, tossing aside the blanket and sitting on the end of the mattress.

  “Why? Do you intend on spoiling me?”

  “No,” came his honest reply, “but I’d like to pamper you.”

  , “What if I decide I want to pamper you?” she asked.

  A mischievous look came into his dark eyes. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  Clare reached for her robe to cover her nakedness and followed him into the kitchen. She sat in the kitchen and braced her bare toes against the edge of the chair. Her knees were tucked under her chin. “I want to ask you about something you said.”

  “Fire away.” Reed dumped coffee grounds from the canister into the white filter.

  “You said something about me having a fragile spirit. What did you mean?”

  Reed hesitated. “It isn’t a negative, Clare. You have the heart of a lioness.”

  “But my spirit’s fragile? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Reed took his time, seeming to choose his words carefully. “It’s because the people you love mean so much to you. I’m afraid you’re going to be in for a difficult time once your family learns we’re married.”

  “They’ll adjust.”

  “But in the meantime, you’ll suffer because you love them. It hurts me to know that.”

  “If they make a fuss, then they’re the ones losing out.” Although she sounded strong and sure, she realized Reed was right. Her family’s opinion was important to her. She’d always been the good daughter, living up to their image, doing things precisely the way they’d planned. But her love for her husband was strong and steady. Nothing, not her parents, public opinion, or anything else would give her cause to doubt. Clare was convinced of it.

  While the coffee brewed, Reed told her the story of his own parents and how his mother’s family had turned away from her following her marriage.

  “My parents would never do that.” Clare desperately wanted to believe it, but she couldn’t be sure. “Times have changed,” she continued, undaunted. “People aren’t quite as narrow-minded these days.”

  “If it comes down to you having to make a choice, I’ll understand if you side with your family.”

  Hot anger surged through Clare’s veins. “You’ll understand? What exactly does that mean?”

  “If you’re put in a position where you have to choose between me and your family, I’ll abide by whatever you want.”

  “What kind of wife do you think I am?” she demanded.

  Reed didn’t so much as hesitate. “Lusty.”

  “I’m serious, Reed Tonasket. You’re my husband…my place is with you.”

  “Here?” He glanced around as if seeing the cabin for the first time, with all its faults. As he’d told her earlier, this was the only home he’d known since he was little more than a toddler.

  “I’ll live wherever you want,” Clare assured him. “Here, Tullue, or downtown New York.”

  Although Reed nodded, Clare wasn’t completely convinced he believed her. “I’m serious,” she reiterated.

  Reed kissed her, then silently stood to pour their coffee.

  His words stayed with her that morning as Clare washed their breakfast dishes. When she squirted the liquid detergent into the water, her gaze fell to the gold band Reed had given her that had once belonged to his mother.

  Clare wished she could have known Beth Tonasket. When she’d quizzed him about his mother, Reed hadn’t been able to tell her much. His own memory of the woman who had given him birth was limited.

  He’d gotten some pictures of her from a box stored in his closet, and Clare had stared at the likeness of a gentle blonde for several moments. Although her coloring was much lighter than Reed’s, Clare could see a strong resemblance between mother and son. Of one thing Clare was sure—Beth Tonasket hadn’t possessed a fragile spirit.

  Clare wasn’t sure why Reed’s words had upset her so much. She feared it was because they were so close to the truth. Sooner or later she would have to face her parents. Soon the whole town would know she’d married Reed.

  She recalled the look on Jim Daniels’s face when she’d gone to the city jail to post Ree
d’s bail. It had angered her at the time that this old family friend would be so quick to judge her. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time in letting her parents know what she’d done. Her mother had shown up at the library the next afternoon flustered and concerned.

  While Reed was busy working in his shop, Clare took down the box of pictures from the shelf, wanting to look them over, learn what she could of Reed’s life.

  Sitting atop the bed, she sorted through the stacks of old photos and found several that piqued her curiosity. One, a tall proud man in an army uniform, caught her attention. Clare knew immediately this must have been Reed’s father.

  Studying the photo, Clare felt a heaviness settle over her. How he must have hated leaving his wife and young son, knowing they would have to deal with life’s cruelties alone.

  “Clare.”

  “I’m here,” she called.

  Reed came into the bedroom, pausing when he found her. “I haven’t looked through those in years.”

  “Are you in this one?” she asked, holding out a black-and-white photo of several Native American youths.

  Reed laughed when he saw it. “I’m the skinny one with knobby knees.”

  “They’re all skinny with knobby knees.”

  “There,” he said, sitting next to her. He pointed to the tall one in the middle, holding a bow and arrow. “That was taken when I was about eight or so. The tribal leader had held a council and grandfather and I attended. I’d forgotten all about that.”

  “Will…you be taking our son to tribal councils?”

  Reed hesitated. “Probably. Will that bother you?”

  “I don’t think so. He’ll be Native American like his father.”

  “I’ll be teaching all our children the ways of our tribe.” He said this as though he expected her to challenge his right to do so.

  “Of course,” she agreed, though she wasn’t sure what that would entail. Skills like trapping, hunting, fishing were often passed down from any father to son.

  “I need to go into town sometime today,” she told him. Her sick leave was about to expire and it was important that she make out the work schedule for the following week. Although she was much better, Clare wasn’t ready to go back full-time. Even if she was, she would have delayed it a day or two so she could be with Reed.