She tried to smile, but she was suddenly so tired. "Thank you for everything," she told him, her voice low.
The smoldering in his eyes pierced through her self-consciousness, and in that breathtaking moment Maura knew he had thrown aside his reserve and was going to kiss her. Like a child frightened of the unknown, she whirled quickly, running, but he was too quick for her.
His hands were hot against her skin, his arms viselike as he wrenched her around to face him. The current that passed from him to her was electric, passionate. Maura had no time to voice even a token protest as his lips crushed hers in a kiss that took possession of her mouth in a way she had never dreamed a kiss could do.
Releasing her mouth but not her body, Xan pressed her back into the shadowed alcove of the door, using his lean hard length to pin her against the rough siding so she couldn't move.
"I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you making something beautiful out of a life's beginning back in Annie Bodkin's house," he said unsteadily. "You were so lovely—you are so lovely."
He drew her into a kiss so absorbing and passionate that she wanted to die from the exquisite sensation of it. His tongue burned against her lips, and without another thought she opened to him, only distantly aware of his body, every surging muscle of it, imprisoning her against the wall.
Sweetly and insistently his hand skimmed its way upward and cupped the lush curve of her breast over her thin blouse, lifting the full weight of it in his hand so that for one wild moment she felt owned by him and wanted to yield to him totally and completely. When he sensed her impassioned response to his caress, he slowly trailed his tongue down the full length of her tender throat, breathing deeply of the scent of her in the shadowed hollow above the neckline of her garment.
But this is insane, she thought in protest, struggling to regain control of herself. She threw her head back, breathing deeply of the night air damp and fragrant of the marsh, but that only aligned her breasts closer to his seeking lips. When he lifted her voluptuous breast to his mouth, contouring the shape of her with his gentle knowing fingers, she gasped.
"Maura," he whispered, and she cradled his bowed head in her arms, pressing his moist lips to her even as she knew she must stop. "I can't believe you don't want this. You're melting in my arms." His breath was hot through her clothing, and his mouth left a damp spot there that clung to her skin.
She let her arms go limp and dropped them to her sides. "I'm not ready," she told him evasively, the words a mere whisper. Nor will you ever be, taunted a voice inside her.
He lifted his head and moved slightly away, his dark eyes acknowledging her right to halt the proceedings. "I," he told her, his lips full with passion, his voice heavy with emotion, "am ready whenever you are."
She lifted her chin, willing herself to be strong in the face of his all-too-persuasive desire. "I have to go in now," she said, the formal tone of her voice injecting a barrier between them. "It's really very late."
He stared at her for a moment, moonlight glinting in the depths of his eyes—heavy-lidded now, their lids weighed by the force of his passion. "On the contrary," he said slowly, meaningfully. "For us, it's very early."
His words left no doubt in her mind that he intended to see her again, which she knew would interfere with achieving her goals here. She fumbled behind her until her hand found the doorknob, and still holding his eyes so full of longing, she slipped inside the house and closed the door. She leaned her forehead against it as Xan walked away. The rhythm of her pulse surged in her ears.
Xan, driving down the deserted street, wondered how long it would take before Maura was ready for what he was sure she wanted. He had known many women in his lifetime, but he had never been so fascinated by any one woman in his entire life. He was totally captivated by her naturalness, a quality that intrigued him because it didn't seem to fit in with the indefinable mystery about her. One thing for sure, she was one woman he meant to have.
Maura finally tiptoed down the long glass-windowed hallway to the guest room, where she stood staring at herself in the mirror, barely breathing and wondering how she could look like the same person when she didn't feel the same. All in all, she supposed it wasn't unusual that she felt so different. Xan's kisses had exposed a lustful facet of her personality that she had never known existed.
Which wasn't really surprising when she considered that she hadn't been kissed since she was eighteen years old.
Chapter 4
There should be some sort of reentry cram course to the world for ex-nuns, thought Maura. A school where you could go to learn about all the things you didn't learn in the convent. With courses in such disciplines as "Coping with Day-to-Day Problems." In "Figuring Out How to Spend the Rest of Your Life."
Also "Online Banking." And of course "Men." Or maybe that one should be titled "Love." No, "Men" would be better. After all, men didn't necessarily mean love. What men all too often meant was sex, and you could have that without love. She'd just, in her breathless clinch with Xan, figured that out for herself. Chalk up a point for Sister Maura. Or, she reminded herself ruefully, ex-Sister Maura.
The fact that Kathleen and Scott were not home was a huge relief. As good Catholics, her sister and brother-in-law were still in shock over Maura's sudden departure from the nursing order of nuns to which she'd belonged for ten years. Although she'd tried to answer all their questions honestly, Maura was embarrassed to find that they regarded her warily, as they would someone who had somehow unexpectedly figured out a way to come back from the dead. Her re-involvement with the world was something they had no idea how to help her accomplish. Mostly they stood back in awestruck surprise and let Maura proceed at her own pace. Her choices were not always what theirs would have been.
Kathleen and Scott had thought of her as Sister Maura, their pious relative in California, for so long that it was hard for them to picture her in any other kind of life. That was why Maura never felt that she actually managed to communicate in any real, deep-down way with them, and so she was singularly glad that she didn't have to explain her late-night arrival tonight astride the back of a blue Harley with Xan Copeland. It was another thing they probably wouldn't understand.
She stripped off her clothes while the bath ran. On impulse she picked up a bottle of Kathleen's pink Vitabath and squeezed a larger-than-necessary dollop into the swirling water. When the tub was full, she sank into the froth and contemplated her own bodily comfort. It was okay, she reminded herself, for a body to feel good. The notion that bodies were supposed to feel good was one of the first ideas to have been trained out of her when she entered the convent.
From a nun's life to a normal life—was her transition going to go smoothly? When she fled from Xan Copeland's office today, ran right out of the examining room, she hadn't felt confident about returning to the real world at all. And Xan's kisses—not to mention his very sensual presence—had left her in a quandary about her feelings for men. The one thing that was going to help her bridge the gap to normality was her work, her calling. Her midwifery. It was the one constant in her life.
Maura had never dreamed when she set out this morning that she would end up officiating at a birthing. A fond smile touched her lips as she thought of Annie's new son. He had been a vigorous newborn and, above all, healthy. That was the important thing, and it gave her the most satisfaction of all. Annie had sleepily insisted, just before Maura left, that she was going to name her son Maurice, in honor of Maura.
Annie's gratitude put her in mind of the appreciative families she'd served in California. They had been poor, too, sometimes as poor as the Bodkins, but theirs had been a different lifestyle. Most of the families in the ghetto and projects surrounding the convent and its hospital had been black or Hispanic, and they'd welcomed Maura's skillful hands with their hearts.
She had moved around the neighborhood with ease and spirit, able to call even the leaders of the toughest youth gangs by name. She'd never felt out of place or afraid as the
neighborhood grew increasingly run-down and crime-ridden. Even the more frequent attacks on lone women didn't scare her.
Ah, but it had been just such an attack that had ended her midwifery practice in that neighborhood.
Would she fear for her safety here, among the Shuffletown people? She didn't think so. She hadn't before, even after what had happened to Sister Angela.
She closed her eyes against the memories, sinking even deeper into the warm soothing water. She must have dozed off in the tub because the bubbles had nearly all dissolved when she opened her eyes and heard Kathleen's muffled laughter as she and Scott tiptoed down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
Maura caught Kathleen's words: "Do you think she's asleep?" And then Scott whispered, but not low enough, "I hope so. Or she's going to witness the world's greatest seduction. You look marvelous in that dress, but you'll look even better out of it."
The door to Kathleen and Scott's room closed with a click, and as she lay back in the tub Maura heard Kathleen's low laughter. Afraid to move for fear of making noise, Maura remained motionless. She didn't want to interrupt their privacy, and she felt somehow very much alone in those moments.
Then she heard more laughter, arrested suddenly by an appreciative moan, and she closed her eyes, embarrassed at her role as eavesdropper. When she heard no more sounds from the direction of Kathleen and Scott's bedroom, she stood as quietly as she could and stopped the runnels of water from dripping by wrapping a giant bath sheet around her.
Maura wondered what it was like to be married. Knowing there'd always be someone to talk with about your own concerns, someone in your corner even when the rest of the world was hostile or unfeeling. It was a mind-set foreign to Maura, marriage never having been one of her options.
She dried herself completely and put on her plain blue cotton pajamas, then crawled into the king-size bed in the guest room. She sprawled out, letting her long legs take up as much room as they wanted. This, she thought, hands clasped behind her head as she luxuriated in her sole occupancy of the huge mattress, was something married people couldn't enjoy. It was wonderful to know you had plenty of room to stretch tired muscles without hitting your kneecap against someone else's hard shinbone.
And then, before the smile completely left her face, she fell fast asleep.
* * *
In their room, Kathleen and Scott lay entwined in each other's arms. "It's something I really want to do," Kathleen told her husband, tracing one of his bushy blond eyebrows with an oval fingernail enameled in a shade called Coppery Glaze. "Helping Maura means a lot to me. You know that."
"What I can't fathom is how you could bear to see her work in Shuffletown. The place gives me the shudders." Scott spoke lazily, but he meant what he said. The moneyed youngest son of a wealthy Boston Irish family, he was used to living well and luxuriously, and he didn't like to work too hard. This job as a tennis pro was exactly right for him—playing tennis in the warm Teoway sunshine during the day, attending parties with his lovely wife at night. Why would anyone—especially his sister-in-law Maura—want to work amid the poor and illiterate of Shuffletown?
Kathleen sighed and settled her head into her husband's shoulder. "It's what Maura wants. It's what she's cut out to do, if only you'd see it. Burning with the longing to help the impoverished masses, that's our Maura. You'd have to have grown up with us to understand this drive that she has, I guess."
He kissed her temple. "If it will make you happy, and if it will make Maura happy, I'll see that she gets the money. The O'Malley Family Foundation can set up a grant or a trust or whatever it takes. Then Maura can minister to all the pregnant women in Shuffletown and points north, south, east, and west, if she likes."
"You mean it?" Her eyes flew to his. "Just as easily as that?"
"Sure," he said, gazing at her with his own special brand of loving adoration. "Just as easily as that."
Kathleen closed her eyes with a happy sigh. "Wake me when you get up in the morning," she murmured into Scott's chest. She'd get up early and surprise Maura with the news about the O'Malley Family Foundation grant. She couldn't think of anything that would please her sister more.
* * *
Maura rose with the sun. She scrubbed her face with soap and water and brushed her hair until it hung instead of snarled in what her mother used to call rat's nests. Pulling on her robe over her pajamas, she hurried to the kitchen. So far she was the only one up, so she plugged in the coffeepot for Kathleen and Scott, although she never drank coffee herself.
"Good morning," Kathleen said agreeably as she swept into the kitchen wearing an expensive negligee of dusty-rose chiffon with flowing sleeves bordered in marabou. It was a striking contrast to Maura's own worn bathrobe. Otherwise, the sisters resembled each other greatly, although Maura was taller than Kathleen and the planes of her face were less rounded. They could have been twins, although at twenty-six Kathleen was the younger by two years.
"I hope you didn't get up just because of me," protested Maura.
"Oh, no. Scott has an early tennis game this morning. And besides, I have wonderful news!" Kathleen poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table beside Maura, grinning as though she'd swallowed the proverbial canary and its feathers were tickling her throat.
"Well, don't tell me, make me suffer," Maura said dryly.
Kathleen's eyes danced. She'd never been good at keeping secrets. "What if I told you that your money problems are over? That you'll be able to set up your practice without worrying about the financial end of it?"
"I'd say you'd lost your mind."
Scott came into the kitchen. He was dressed in tennis whites, which contrasted with his deep tan and set off his sandy hair and mustache. He dropped a kiss on the top of his wife's head and went to pour his own coffee.
"I was just telling Maura that she won't have to worry about financing her birth center," Kathleen said.
"And I was just saying that she'd lost her mind," Maura replied.
"My wife may have lost her mind, but it's true," he told Maura with a grin that twitched his mustache upward at the ends. "I'll arrange for the O'Malley Family Foundation to finance your venture. No strings attached."
Maura's jaw dropped. She had never hoped for anything like this and never dreamed that such a thing was possible. "Scott?" she said, her voice quavering. "You're not joking?"
"Would I joke about a project so near and dear to your heart that you've scarcely stopped running on about it ever since the first time you drove that broken-down old car of yours through Shuffletown?" Scott eyed her with amusement.
"So, sister mine, all you have to do is find a place of business and voila! Shuffletown has its very own practicing midwife." Kathleen's face shone with satisfaction.
Maura was out of her chair in a second, embracing her sister before hugging Scott. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, happy tears springing to her eyes.
"And now," said Kathleen, "tell us your plans. I'm sure, knowing you, that you've made them—lots of them."
Maura blinked the dampness away. "Well, first I'm going to find a suitable place. I've been thinking about one of the old houses in Shuffletown. A big one with lots of rooms that can be converted to examining rooms and so forth." Then she frowned. "I'd go out looking for such a place first thing this morning if I had my minivan."
Kathleen looked puzzled. "I hadn't realized it was gone."
"It isn't," said Scott, joining them at the table. "It's parked right where it always is, beside that stand of palmettos. I saw it when I wheeled out the garbage can."
"You're sure?" Maura was taken aback.
"I'd know that heap anywhere. When you get the O'Malley grant, how about buying a new vehicle? Or at least having the old one painted?" Scott grinned at her affectionately.
With a peculiar look on her face, Maura went to the window. Sure enough, there was her minivan parked in its usual spot. "He must have brought it back early," she said.
"Who? And what was wr
ong with it?"
"Oh, it broke down again, this time on the Shuffletown highway, and it was at the garage being repaired," she said. "I'm surprised to have it back so soon, that's all. Now that it's here, I might as well get busy looking for a home for my birth center." She beat a hasty retreat before Kathleen and Scott could ask any more questions.
While she was dressing, Maura wondered about Xan. Had he delivered the minivan this morning himself? When? And how much money did she owe the garage, anyway?
She wished she'd thought to bring up all relevant questions last night, but it was a night not to be remembered for its overabundance of rational thought. She could at least have asked Xan for his phone number.
Of course she could reach him at his office. That, however, didn't seem like a course she wanted to take after her sudden leave-taking yesterday afternoon. Whoever answered the phone might hang up on her.
"Maura?" Kathleen knocked lightly on the open guest-room door.
"You don't have to tap so politely," Maura informed her sister with a smile. "Remember when we were kids? You barged into my room whenever you wanted, no matter what I was doing."
"Barging in on a big sister is a little sister's prerogative. But we aren't kids anymore," Kathleen reminded her, looking fondly at Maura. "You look wonderful in those clothes you're wearing. That shade of navy looks marvelous against your hair."
"This pant suit was yours," Maura told her. "Don't you remember giving it to me? That's probably why it looks good, if it does. Our hair is practically the same shade." She somehow felt that she had to make excuses for her wholesome good looks. Nuns were supposed to remain humble.
Kathleen looked at the suit again. Both jacket and pants clung ever so gracefully to Maura's curvy figure, and Maura was taller than Kathleen, so the two-piece effect was perfect for her. It annoyed her that Maura was so self-effacing about her natural beauty.
"Maura, you must learn to accept compliments," she said. When Maura looked flustered, Kathleen went on more gently. "That suit looks much better on you than it ever did on me. And you do need clothes now. When can we go shopping?" Kathleen, with her love of fashion, was forever trying to organize a shopping trip.
Cherished Beginnings Page 5
