For the first time, Wren had some sympathy for his ex-wife. He said he loved his kids, but maybe he had been a lousy father. Maybe he was the kind who wasn’t willing to get up at night with them, who thought men didn’t change diapers.
Yet she remembered his gentleness with Abby during those days in the attic. The deft, experienced way he’d handled her, that big hand always cradling her head. His creativity in coming up with diapers. His grin when she suggested submitting his designs to a survivalist magazine.
Even though she hadn’t made a sound, he somehow knew she was there. His head turned and his expression changed. “Wren.”
She was too muddled to guess what he was thinking. She took a few steps into the kitchen, enough to see Abby, who was awake but seemingly contented as she gazed up at the mobile that was turning above her. Alec must have wound it up.
Wren caught an odd whiff and was distracted. Diaper? No. Oh, dear God. She smelled like the morgue. That’s why Alec had changed clothes the minute they walked in the door. The scent had seeped into her clothes. Maybe even into her hair and her skin. The rational part of her knew she was probably imagining this, but— Panic returned full force. “I need a shower.” She retreated toward the hall, her voice rising. “I need to get clean.”
His eyebrows rose and then his face softened. “Go ahead, Wren. We’re fine.”
Of course they were. Even if Abby did start to cry, she’d survive for ten minutes.
It took longer than that, though. Wren scrubbed and scrubbed. It was as if she had to get every inch of herself. Finally satisfied, she put on clean clothes from the skin out.
Maybe, she thought, she could dump the clothes from the hamper directly into the washing machine without touching them.
Downstairs again, she discovered that Alec had apparently moved far enough to grab the newspaper—he must have heard it thud onto the front porch, because it wasn’t there when they’d gotten home earlier. He was in the same chair—as far from the bassinet as he could get and still sit down in the kitchen—with the sports page spread out in front of him. Abby had begun to get vocal—she was probably hungry.
“I’ll feed her then start dinner,” Wren said brightly, going to her daughter.
His head came up and he looked searchingly at her. “I can cook tonight if you’d rather.”
“No. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stay busy.”
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“After dinner, I wonder if I could borrow your credit card and buy my airline ticket. I can pay you with cash.”
He went absolutely still. Was that shock she saw on his face? “There’s no hurry for you to go.”
“No reason to stay, either, is there?” She sounded positively blithe. I’m excited about the future, her tone said.
His dark eyebrows drew together. “Wren…”
Abby squawked.
“Let me go feed her.”
He didn’t argue. Wren carried her baby to the living room and sat on that hideous sofa. The minute she lifted her T-shirt and opened the front of the bra, Abby latched on with a ferocity that suggested Mommy had been trying to starve her.
Wren felt as if her heart was being crushed inside her chest. It was that painful.
By the time Abby was satisfied, the sensation had eased, if not gone away. Wren was afraid she was going to keep hurting for a long time, especially when she let herself think about Alec.
Maybe forever. Which was ridiculous, considering she’d known him such a short time.
She refastened her bra and went to change Abby’s diaper.
Alec still had the newspaper spread in front of him when she returned to the kitchen, but he looked at her so quickly she wondered if he’d actually been reading. He watched as she laid Abby on her back and tucked a blanket around her.
“Anything happening in the world?” she asked casually, going to the refrigerator.
“Murder, mayhem, white-collar crime and world unrest. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I remembered where James’s mom lives. It stuck in my mind because it’s such a strange name for a town. Boring. Boring, Oregon.”
Alec laughed. “You’ve got a point.” He was silent for a moment. “We should have fingerprint confirmation by tomorrow. I’ll call her then.”
Wren nodded. She knew she hadn’t made a mistake.
“I didn’t have very inspiring plans for dinner. How does homemade macaroni and cheese grab you?”
“Good.”
They didn’t talk much until she put the casserole dish into the oven, although she knew he was watching her even if he did occasionally turn a page.
The moment she closed the oven door, Alec said, “Come and sit down.”
“I need to make a salad.”
“You’ve got plenty of time.”
She hesitated then went to her usual place. There she folded her hands on her lap and waited.
“You really intend to leave right away.” His tone was strange.
“You must be eager to have your house to yourself again.”
He leveled a look at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
Feeling suddenly uncertain, Wren said, “Well, no.”
“You’ve made this house into a home.” Alec’s expression was oddly vulnerable. “I…like having you here.”
He’d said that before. Could she believe him? And what did he mean by it? Rather flatly, she said, “You could hire a housekeeper.”
“That isn’t what I’m saying.” His voice was low, the words more halting than usual.
“Isn’t it? You love coming home to find dinner ready to go on the table. And I’m glad you appreciate the help I could give you clearing the house out. But—” Oh, this was so hard. “I think it’s time I get on with my life. I shouldn’t keep leaning on you, Alec. That’s probably not healthy for me.”
“You did a lot less leaning than you think you did, Wren. You’ve shown amazing strength. I know you have a hard time believing that, but it’s true. You had to be scared to death when I found you in that attic, but you never complained, barely even groaned when you were in labor, and once Abby was born you managed to laugh despite being hungry, cold and anxious about her. The truth is—” His mouth twisted. “What little leaning you’ve done, I liked.”
She had to be gaping at him. “You…liked?”
“Nobody’s needed me for a long time.”
She didn’t know how she was going to survive this. “Your daughters still need you.”
He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“Okay.” His faint smile twisted. “That doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’d like you to stay.”
Despite a gigantic ball of emotion in her throat, Wren managed to say, “As what? The never-ending guest? A paid housekeeper? A—” She couldn’t say it. A lover?
His forehead furrowed. “I think…a wife.”
Maybe it was the wrong reaction, but she was suddenly mad. “You think?” Her spine had gone ramrod-straight.
He pushed back his chair as if to stand, but he didn’t. “I know I’m being clumsy. I hadn’t planned how to do this. Maybe I should have let you go without saying anything. But I need you, and you need me.” His voice was thick. “I’ve been hiding how much I was feeling because I thought you weren’t ready.”
“You mean, because you weren’t ready.”
He stared at her. It was an age before he said, “Maybe that, too.”
What really hurt was the hint of shock she could see in his eyes. He really hadn’t planned to say any of this. Wren wanted—so much—to believe she was what he truly wanted, but she couldn’t. She thought he had liked having her here, and maybe he didn’t want her to go, but how likely was it that he’d fallen madly in love with her, Wren? A Wren who had disappointed her mother? A Wren who hadn’t so much as caught the eye of another man until James, and, wow, look how that turned out. James, who she now understood—to her shame
—had seen a weakness in her that he knew could exploit to meet his own need to dominate.
Having her here had probably made Alec realize he was lonely. She needed so much more than that, and maybe she’d never find it, but— She wouldn’t settle for less. Never again.
“What about Abby?” Her tone was so uncompromising she shocked herself. “You can hardly bring yourself to look at her.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek and his gaze flicked toward the bassinet then returned to her face. “That’s…not as easy for me, Wren. But I know she’s part of the deal. If you’ll give me time…”
Deal?
“You feel sorry for me. That’s a ridiculous reason to propose to a woman.” If that’s what this had been.
“No. I don’t feel…”
When he floundered, Wren said, “Well, at least you can’t bring yourself to lie.”
He shot to his feet so abruptly, Abby startled in her bassinet. Then he pushed the chair aside and strode across the kitchen before swinging back to face Wren.
“How can I not feel bad after hearing about the way your mother treated you? Not to mention that son of a bitch lying in the morgue? That’s compassion, Wren, not pity. Was I supposed to listen to you and not feel a goddamn thing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did.” His throat worked. “Obviously you don’t feel the same way I do. That’s okay. Let’s not end on a sour note.”
For the first time, her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry,” Alec said hastily. “I never meant… Oh, hell. I’ll leave you in peace.”
A second later, she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Stunned, Wren sat at the table and thought, What did I do?
The right thing.
If he’d said, I love you… But he hadn’t.
She should be glad he’d asked in a way that made it impossible for her to stay. If he’d said, I like having you here and you need some time and space to figure out your life, she would have been terribly tempted to accept. But if she stayed any longer, all she’d do was fall deeper and deeper into love. So deep she’d never surface again. It was much better to end this now.
She felt as if she’d been hit by a car. Standing was an enormous effort, but somehow she did it. She’d go on the same way she had since she’d stolen out of James’s apartment pulling her suitcase and caught the light-rail train to the airport in Seattle. She would think about nothing but the next step.
Make a salad.
ALEC TRIED TO KEEP his attention on the highway. Abby was buckled into the backseat, Wren beside him. He’d insisted on driving them to St. Louis rather than letting them take a bus the way she’d wanted. His impression was that she was as miserable as he was, but he didn’t have it in him to beg.
He heard himself say haltingly, I think…a wife.
Even in retrospect, he winced. Okay, he could have done a better job of persuading her that he really wanted her to stay. He could have told her that the idea of going home without her made him feel as if he was plunging down into a pitch-dark coal mine, utterly alone.
No, he should have told her that he felt things for her he never had for a woman before. That sometimes he thought of her as a campfire on a dark night, casting generous heat and a golden glow. He’d been cold for years until he had held out his hands to her warmth.
But it was more than that. She was funny, smart, sweet and loving in a way he had never experienced. He knew she didn’t think she was sexy, but she was. She was…delicate. Completely feminine. He loved her small, competent hands, the fragile line of her collarbone, her freckled, pixie face. Her curves were all subtle except for her breasts, especially lush right now. Her feistiness turned him on, her vulnerability tugged at something almost forgotten in him. He didn’t want to keep her dependent, but he liked the idea of her knowing, completely and without doubt, that he was there for her if she needed him.
He could have offered to move to St. Louis or wherever she needed to go when she was ready to start grad school. But everything had happened with stunning speed—James was dead and Wren packing to leave while Alec was still stumbling over his own feet.
He was beginning to think Wren wouldn’t have given him a real chance no matter what he’d said.
He tried now to work up some anger, but apparently the ache beneath his breastbone wasn’t the right kind of tinder.
They talked only fitfully during the drive. Things had been awkward since last night. How could they be anything but? He’d come down to eat dinner, afterward offering her his credit card. She had very politely returned it twenty minutes later and told him she’d booked a flight for the next day.
She’d accepted the gift of one of his mother’s suitcases. “I’m sure Sally can find someone else who can use the bassinet,” she’d said, and he’d nodded.
The couple of hours that morning before they left were hell. They’d realized that she wouldn’t be allowed on a flight without a picture ID, so he took her to the DMV, where she applied for one using his address. They’d sat side-by-side during the wait in complete silence.
Traffic became heavier the closer they came to the city. He was glad to be able to bypass downtown on Highway 570, which delivered them almost directly to the airport.
“You can drop me at departures,” Wren said.
He hated that idea as much as he did the idea of watching her and Abby be swallowed by the crowds at security.
“You’ve got too much to juggle. You need help until you check your bags.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her struggle with that, and her eventual concession in the form of a nod.
He parked and took the suitcases out of the back, then opened the passenger door to unbuckle Abby’s car seat. Her knitted beanie hat was clutched in one chubby fist. She stared at him with eyes that no longer had that unfocused, newborn look. It was as if she saw him.
Damn. He felt as if he had a boulder in his chest.
Unable to help himself, he lifted a hand and skimmed it over the fluff of her hair before he gently pried the hat from her hand and tugged it over her head, making sure her ears were tucked in. She watched him as if his face held all the secrets of the universe. His eyes burned.
He kept his back to Wren while he gritted his teeth and waited for the desolation to subside. Then he lifted the car seat, closed the door and hit the door lock on his key chain.
“I can get one of those suitcases,” he said. Wren had already hoisted the diaper bag they’d bought only that morning after the visit to the DMV and was gripping the handle of the larger suitcase.
She cast a look at him in which he read despair.
Don’t go. He didn’t say it.
As they walked in, he asked, “Will you let me know you’ve arrived safely? And that you’ve found your friend and everything’s all right?”
“I have your email address.”
“Okay.” His throat wanted to seize up. He cleared it. “Good.”
She’d already printed her boarding pass. Baggage check was ahead.
Maybe he could beg.
He was fairly certain that wouldn’t sway her. Either she didn’t think she could ever love him, or she needed desperately to prove to herself that she could be self-sufficient. How could he blame her either way?
They stood briefly in line, not talking. She produced her boarding pass and her shiny new Arkansas identification. Her suitcases went on the conveyor belt and Wren turned to him. “I can take Abby now.”
“I’ll walk you to security.”
After a moment, she gave a stricken nod.
The line was short for late afternoon flights. He held the car seat while Wren unbuckled her daughter and lifted her out.
“Wren.” His voice was hoarse.
Her eyes met his and he felt as if she’d punched him.
The timing couldn’t be worse—he knew that—but the words crowded their way out. “I should have said this before. You probably won’t even believe me, but… I love y
ou. Wren.” Desperate, he finished, “Come back to me. When you’re ready.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and he saw that her lashes were wet. She made a hiccupping sound then opened eyes swimming with tears. “I wish I thought—”
“Thought what?”
“I have to do this.”
Alec swallowed and stepped back. No touching. Touching would be his downfall. “Then do it,” he said, knowing he sounded harsh but unable to help it.
Anger, finally, began to blast away the pain.
“Goodbye,” she whispered, then turned and hurried away.
He watched as she presented her boarding pass and ID again. When she toed off the clogs and bent awkwardly with Abby in her arms to pick them up, he turned his back, unable to take any more.
THE PLOD TO BAGGAGE CLAIM at the Orlando airport almost killed Wren. Abby whimpered and the car seat felt as if it weighed ten pounds more than it had when they left St. Louis. Wren’s feet felt as if they weighed more than they had any right weighing. We’re both tired, that’s all, she told herself.
Thank goodness Molly’s husband was there to meet her. She liked him on sight. Tall and thin with curly dark hair and friendly brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, he had a gentle smile. Better yet, he made her grin when he said, “Molly was mad I wouldn’t let her come. She’s undoubtedly wearing circles in the carpet waiting for you.”
“I’d almost forgotten how much she hates waiting for anything.” Molly might not be happy to stay home, but considering her due date was barely a week away, it was probably a good thing that Sam had insisted.
Once on their way, they chatted for a few minutes, before he said, “You look done in.” He glanced at his rearview mirror. “Abby is over and out. Maybe you should do the same.”
Gratefully, Wren followed his suggestion and was mildly shocked when she woke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder and his voice saying, “We’re here.” Dazed, she looked around, but with it dark she couldn’t see much except that the house seemed small. “I’ll get Abby and then come back for your suitcases,” Sam said.
All That Remains Page 22
