by Helen Brenna
“Damn,” he muttered.
“I pulled stuff out left and right. Then I saw this plastic bag. Squirming. Barely. I found him inside. Sick. Malnourished. Eyes bulging out of his head. His four brothers and sisters inside the bag were already dead.” A tear dropped from her lash and immediately he regretted the topic of conversation. She looked at him and smiled. “Before that day, I’d never taken care of anything. I was having a hard enough time taking care of me.”
“But you did it.”
“He was so sickly for such a long time the vets didn’t think he was going to make it, but I made it my mission to nurse that tiny lump of matted fur back to health. Now look at him. You’d never know he was such a runt.”
He’d turned into such a beautiful, healthy cat it was hard to imagine anyone had once upon a time literally thrown him away. “You never have told me his name.”
“Slim.” She chuckled. “Slim chance of survival. That’s what the vet told me. He used to love cruising in the car with me. He’d wrap himself behind my neck all slim and sleek and look out the window. The breeze blowing in his face.”
Jonas could easily picture it. Missy and her cat against the world.
“I saved his life,” she whispered. “In return he saved my soul.” Another tear dribbled down her cheek.
“Whatever is bothering you, Miss, I’d like to help.”
She opened her mouth as if she might lean on him, and then quickly stood and shut him out. “Nothing important. Bad day at work. I’ll be fine.” Then she walked back into her bedroom, closing off the tentative connection between them as surely as if she’d slammed a door in his face.
Jonas wavered for a long moment. He had no right to interfere in her business, but had he become the kind of man who couldn’t give without taking? Not quite.
Walking down the hall, he knocked. “Missy?” He could hear her trying to stifle her tears.
She looked up when he opened the door and his heart nearly broke. She’d changed into a T-shirt and knit shorts. Sitting on the bed, she brushed away the tears trailing down her face, but there was no point. As soon as she swiped her cheeks dry, more tears replaced the others.
He sat on the edge of the bed and, setting aside his promise to keep his hands off her, pulled her into his arms. “This is about you wanting to adopt, isn’t it?”
Her body shook. “You know about that?”
“A little. Jamis told me at Ron’s party.”
Between broken sobs and ragged breaths, she explained all she’d gone through over the past several years in her quest for a family. It didn’t sound as much like a process as an ordeal.
“You want—ache—for a family. Maybe because you’ve turned your back on your own.”
She glanced at him, as if he’d hit a chord she didn’t know existed.
“I know you have your reasons, and they’re good ones,” he said. He’d always felt as if his presence had only widened the gap between Missy and her family. If he could help her repair the bonds, maybe then he could forgive at least a part of the damage he’d caused. “Maybe you should reconnect at least with your brothers and sisters.”
“I tried. I called Marin the other day.”
“And?”
“She hung up on me.”
Her tears gathered again in earnest.
“Give her some time. If she misses you as much as you miss her, I’ll bet she’ll be calling you back.” He paused and tightened his hold on her. “If she doesn’t, though, remember that you’re not alone, Miss. You’ve made a family here on Mirabelle. They all love you very much.”
“I know. It’s just that a child would complete things, I think.”
“Me reappearing threw a wringer in everything, didn’t it?”
She didn’t have to say anything for him to know he was right. If he’d known then what he knew now, he wouldn’t have come to Mirabelle.
“I’m sorry, Missy.” The apology didn’t begin to cut it, but it was all he had. There was no making this right. All he could do was lie back on the bed and hold her, help her feel better if only for a while.
S LIM HOPPED ONTO THE BED . Missy awoke abruptly and froze. The room was dark, but for light from a sliver moon glowing through her open window. Several hours had clearly passed since she’d come home. The cat moved tentatively, sniffing the quilt, her toes and Jonas’s leg. Then he, amazingly accepting of this large addition to a space that had previously been reserved only for him, curled in the crook behind Jonas’s knees and proceeded to clean the day off his fur.
The air was cool, cold even, but the heat of Jonas’s large body had kept her warm. He was tucked at Missy’s back, so close she could barely move. His arm thrown around her, his hand resting near her breasts, his lips at the nape of her neck. His breath teased her skin with slow, even strokes. It was one of the most perfect moments Missy could remember. Most of the perfect moments in her life involved Jonas. But then most of her completely heart-wrenchingly devastating moments had involved him, too. Because they were so closely tied together. Because he meant so much to her. Because she loved him.
She still loved him.
She should’ve known her feelings for him wouldn’t change all that much. She’d put a piece of her heart to sleep, she supposed, but Jonas coming back had reawakened her with a vengeance. The brash, young love she’d first felt for Jonas had matured and grown into something so much deeper, headier and complete because she’d matured and grown. Given another chance, she would never be so quick to throw away what they’d had.
Drawing his hand to her mouth, she softly kissed the pad of his thumb. He tensed behind her. She brought his hand to her breast, felt her nipple harden against his palm. He groaned, as his fingers closed over her breast and his mouth pressed against her neck.
Then she turned to face him, dipped her hands under his shirt, splayed her fingers through the springy hair on his chest, and kissed him. As she slipped her tongue between his lips, he shuddered with need.
Instinct took hold as he dragged her shirt upward and cupped her breast. Arcing against him, she threw her leg over his hip, reached lower between them and closed her hand around his erection.
He jerked and pulled away. “Missy, don’t,” he whispered. “You don’t—”
“Shh,” she whispered, touching his lips. “What if…what if we tried again?”
“Tried what again?”
“Our marriage. What if we—”
“No.” He sat and ran his hands through his short hair. “It’s over.”
Taking his face between her hands, she made him look at her. “We’ve never been over, Jonas, and you know it. I want to give us another shot. I want to work things out—”
“You want a family. That’s all, Miss.” He drew her hands away. “You don’t want me.”
“That’s not true. I want a family with you.”
He went to the door. “You want what I can’t give.”
“How do you know until you try?”
“Been there, done that. Remember? We failed.”
“Then why did you come back?”
He stared at her. “To be honest, I’m not sure anymore. In any case, it was a mistake.”
Losing Jonas once had nearly crippled Missy. As he walked away, she didn’t know how she’d survive losing him again.
J ONAS LAY IN BED STARING AT his laptop bag. The divorce agreement was still in there. For Missy’s sake, he should sign it and move on. He’d been pushing his luck staying on Mirabelle this long. Rather than give himself the option of backing down, he rolled out of bed, took the papers out and signed them. Done. Then he carried them downstairs.
Though the sun was only now rising on the horizon, he found Missy sitting at the kitchen counter with various types of stone beads splashed before her. Intent on her project, she wasn’t aware of his presence. Carefully, as if only one particular color or shape would do, she selected one bead after another and slipped it onto a leather cord.
Once she’d apparen
tly reached an acceptable length, she finished it off by tying some kind of a clasp on each end. Then she sat back, placed her hands over the piece of jewelry, and closed her eyes, apparently blessing the piece.
Her focus and patience amazed Jonas. Sitting that quietly with that type of a project would’ve been nothing less than torture for him. He well remembered what it had felt like to be the sole object of her attention, and there’d been no better feeling in the world. Whether she was giving a back rub, trying out a new recipe for dinner, having a conversation or making love, when Missy chose to do something, she did it with complete abandon, immersing her entire self in the task at hand.
It was one of the many things he’d admired about her. She was so different from him with her carefree ways and, yet, no less disciplined. Why in the world would a woman like her, with so much to give, want to give their marriage another go? It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t offer her anything.
Resigned, he finished his descent. “Morning.”
Startled, she glanced up. “Morning.”
He smiled, trying to keep things light between them. “Is that a blessing or a curse you just put on that bracelet?”
“Blessing,” she whispered. “It’s silly, I know, but it can’t hurt, right?”
“Do you make all the jewelry that you sell at your store?”
“Only some of it.”
“You go through that process for every piece?”
“No.” She shook her head. “That would be too time-consuming.”
“So this is for someone you know?”
“It’s for you.”
Oh, hell.
She pointed to the various small round stones. “Turquoise to heal. Hematite to ground and focus. Onyx to keep you safe.” She stood and walked toward him. “For your health, to help your wound heal. To ground your thoughts and energies so you can solve this case.”
“The sooner I leave the better? Well, then, it’s a good thing I already signed this.” He set the divorce agreement on the counter.
She glanced at it, but said nothing, only fastened the bracelet she’d made on his wrist and walked away.
He ran his hands over the smooth stones and felt them still holding the warmth of her skin. God help him, but he wanted her warmth on him. “Missy?”
She stopped, turned and waited.
He could find no words to explain how he felt.
“If only I could make something to heal a broken heart,” she murmured before disappearing out the door.
Hers or his?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MISSY COULD FEEL JONAS slipping away from her just as he had four years ago, and just like four years ago she was helpless to stop him. The only difference between then and now was the woman she’d become wasn’t going to look for an easy way out. She was going to fight for what she wanted, for Jonas.
This morning, though, he needed time to absorb the changes happening between them, and she needed to give him space to do just that. She left the house early, wanting to get to Whimsy to prepare for what had proven to be the busiest day of the summer season for all the shops on Mirabelle, the day before the Fourth of July.
Her cell phone rang on her walk to her shop. Without looking at the display, she answered. “Hello.”
“Melissa?”
Missy quickly sat on the nearest curbside bench. “Marin!”
“I’m sorry I hung up on you the other day. I guess your call threw me. I needed some time to think. Put things in perspective.”
“I get it.”
“I need to know something.” Her sister paused. “Tell me why? Can you explain to me why you felt it was necessary to disappear?”
“That’s been hard for a lot of people to understand.” Marin would. At least, Missy hoped she would. “I never fit with the family, remember? I’m different from all of you. You know that.”
“That’s a good enough reason to take off for years?”
“Marin, I needed to be away from all of you in order to be able to find me. Dad would never let me be me. Jonas’s funeral was the last straw.”
“Why? What happened?”
She told Marin about what their father had said at the funeral.
“Dad’s a pain in the ass,” she interrupted. “I understand that more than you know. Don’t you think I haven’t had issues with him?”
“You have?”
“Damn right. He’s controlling and opinionated. He thinks he’s an expert on everything. You know that. He’s always telling me how to run my career, and it drives me crazy.”
“But, Marin, you’ve always been able to stand up to him. You’re so much stronger than I am.”
“Not really. I disagree with him. I argue with him. But I’m no stronger than you, Mel. Your strength might be quieter than mine, but it’s there.”
Missy felt tears gather in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I remember watching you, my little sister, standing there with that serene smile on your face taking everything Dad was throwing out at you. I used to get so angry at him, for berating you and you for taking it. Then one day, I was home for Christmas break. You were a freshman in college and he was dictating what you’d be majoring in and what classes you needed to take when he pulled the old ‘Or, by golly, I’m all done paying for tuition.’ And you, as calm as all get out, looked at him and said, ‘Then don’t pay.’” Marin paused. “Mel, you were the one who taught me how to stand up to him.”
A tear dropped from her lashes and then another one as Missy remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. It was the day she realized she could not be around her father if she ever had a hope of discovering what she wanted in life. It was the day she realized she had to leave her family behind. Now she could admit to herself that it’d been painful to leave her siblings, painful to leave even her mother. That’s probably why it had taken her a long while to take that step.
“If I was so strong, Marin, why couldn’t I figure out a way to be myself even around Dad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe now you can.”
Missy didn’t know what to say.
“I’d like you to try, anyway. You’re the only sister I will ever have in this world. I’d like to think we’ve all grown a bit and can tolerate our differences, maybe even learn to respect one another.”
“You think?”
“I’d like to try. I’d like to see you.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. At least not yet. Did you tell Dad we talked?”
“No.” She paused. “I thought about it. I was mad. Even picked up the phone and dialed his office number, but I guess a part of me understands. I did let Mom know you were alive and okay—”
“She’ll tell Dad—”
“She won’t. She’s different than you remember her. Can I at least give her your phone number?”
Missy scratched her head. “You know—”
“Fine. Have it your way—”
“Don’t, Marin! Don’t hang up again! You don’t understand what’s going on here. I can’t be found right now by anyone. Especially not by Dad. You know she’s never been able to keep a secret from him.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s too long a story, and I’m sure you don’t—”
“I do care, Mel.”
She tipped her head back trying to hold off more tears. “I do miss you, Marin. Someday, soon…”
“What can I do to help?”
She explained Jonas’s situation. “So if Dad finds out where I am, he might inadvertently alert the wrong people.”
“So where do we go from here, then?”
With that one question, Missy felt another cog in the gears of her life move into place.
M ISSY WAS WALKING BACK from a quick lunch break at the park with Sarah. The store was crazy busy, but Lauren Bennett had agreed to help out this week, so Gaia wasn’t alone. They were only a block from their shops when they passed the Hendersons’ drugstore.
Missy followed her and meandered up and down the aisles while waiting. She passed a row of diapers, then baby formula and glanced at the cute pictures of infants plastered on the products. When she reached the feminine supply section, she paused as a strange feeling swept over her. Her menstrual cycle was late. That rarely happ—
It’d been…she calculated…two weeks and a day since she and Jonas had made love. Hope leaped to life inside her. A baby. She grinned even as tears gathered in her eyes. Jonas’s child. Their child. Glancing at the boxes of pregnancy tests, she knew she would have no peace until she knew for sure. She snatched up a couple boxes and was in the process of paying for them when Sarah reached her side.
“All set. You ready to—”
Missy quickly stuffed the boxes into a bag. “Yep, let’s get out of here.”
The moment they stepped outside, Sarah whispered, “You’ve had sex with him? I thought you hated the man.”
“So did I. Turns out I still love him.”
“You think you’re pregnant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, my God,” Sarah murmured. “You can’t go back to your store with those. Come with me.” She dragged Missy through the front of her flower shop and toward the small half bath in her back room.
Missy closed the door. Her hands shook as she withdrew the pregnancy test. Several minutes later, having followed the directions, she sat on the closed toilet seat, her head in her hands.
“Well?” Sarah asked through the door. “Do you know?”
Missy opened the door, and showed Sarah the stick.
“Wow,” Sarah murmured. “Just wow.”
