Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics)

by Debbie Macomber

“I am, too, love,” he breathed against her hair. “I should have recognized what was happening.”

  “I wanted to be perfect for you and the children.”

  “You are,” he whispered tenderly. “Now, let’s see what can be salvaged from your dinner.”

  “Not much, I’m afraid.” She inhaled a steadying breath. “It may be far worse than you realize,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I think my dumplings may have dented the ceiling and we’ll be out the damage deposit.”

  He started laughing then, uncontrollably, and soon she was laughing with him, free and content with the knowledge that she was loved for herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Carly’s fingers tightened around Brand’s arm. “Are you sure I look okay?”

  “You’re beautiful.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re perfect. They’re going to love you.”

  Carly wished she had the same unfailing optimism. Shawn and Sara would be meeting them at the Portland Airport and the FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT sign was already flashing in preparation for landing.

  A thin film of nervous perspiration broke out across her upper lip and forehead, and she wiped it away with her free hand. A thousand nagging apprehensions crowded their way into her mind. The tightening sensation that attacked the pit of her stomach was identical to the one she’d experienced as a child whenever she’d been transferred into a new foster home. If she couldn’t fit in with this new family, her life would be a constant battle. The identical situation was facing her with Shawn and Sara. So much of her happiness with Brand depended on what happened this weekend.

  “Carly.” Brand squeezed her hand again. “Relax. You’re as stiff as new cardboard.”

  “I can’t help it.” Even her whisper was tortured. “What will we do if Shawn and Sara don’t like me?”

  “But they’re going to love you,” Brand argued.

  “How can you be so sure?” She knew she sounded like a frightened little girl. How could anyone who’d leaped headlong into as many adventures as she had be so terrified of two small children?

  Brand tightened his hold on her fingers and raised them to his mouth to tenderly kiss the inside of her palm. “They’re going to love you because I do.”

  A flood of emotion clouded her eyes. “I want to make this work, Brand,” she said, and she lowered her eyes so he couldn’t see how overemotional she was becoming. “I really do.”

  “I know, love.”

  Carly’s heart fell to her ankles when the plane touched down. A few minutes later, they were walking down the jetway that led to the cavernous terminal and the baggage claim area.

  “Daddy, Daddy.” The high, squeaky voice of a young girl came at them the moment they cleared the secure area.

  Brand fell to one knee as blond-haired Sara threw herself into his arms. Shawn followed, and squeezed his father’s neck so tightly Carly was amazed that Brand was still breathing. With a child on each hip, Brand stood.

  “Shawn and Sara, this is Carly.”

  “Hi, Carly.” They spoke together and lowered their eyes shyly.

  “Hello.”

  “Daddy told us all about you,” Sara said eagerly.

  “Did you really climb a whole mountain?” Shawn queried, with a hint of disbelief.

  “It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life,” Carly confirmed. “By the time I made it down, my nose was redder than Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer’s and my lips had blisters all over them.”

  “Wow.” Shawn’s big blue eyes were filled with awe. “I’d like to climb a mountain, too.”

  “Someday, son,” Brand promised.

  “Welcome home, Brand.” A crisp, clear voice spoke from behind them.

  Carly’s attention was diverted to the older woman who stood apart from the small group. Her hair was completely gray, but her eyes were like Brand’s—only faded and with a tired, faraway look.

  Brand lowered the children to the floor. “Mom, this is my wife, Carly.”

  “Hello, Mrs. St. Clair.” Carly stepped forward and extended her hand.

  Brand’s mother shook it politely and offered her an uncertain smile. “Please, call me Kay. With two Mrs. St. Clairs around, there’s bound to be some confusion.”

  Carly’s spirits plummeted. Brand’s mother didn’t bother to disguise her lack of welcome. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

  The older woman’s eyes centered on the children and softened. “Say hello to your new mother, children.”

  “Hello,” they cried in unison, with eager smiles.

  “I imagine you’re tired,” Kay St. Clair said conversationally on the way to pick up their luggage. “How was the flight?”

  “Fine.” Carly’s mind searched frantically for something to say. “The weather certainly is nice.” Bright, sunny skies had welcomed them to Oregon.

  “But then this must be paradise compared to Alaska,” Kay returned in the same bland tone she’d used earlier.

  The sky had been just as blue and beautiful in Anchorage, but Carly let the subject drop. There wasn’t any reason to start off this relationship with a disagreement by comparing the two states. Indeed, Oregon was beautiful, but Alaska was equally so, only in a different way. But Carly doubted that she could explain that to Brand’s mother.

  Lunch was waiting for them back at a stylish two-story brick house with a meticulously kept yard and spotless interior. The entire house was so clean that Carly thought it had probably been sterilized. Framed pictures lined the fireplace mantel in the living room. There were photographs of Brand’s two younger brothers and their families—and a picture of Brand with Sandra on their wedding day. Carly’s gaze was riveted to the picture, and the color washed from her face. Abruptly, she turned away, unable to bear the sight. By keeping the photo on the mantel, Brand’s mother had made her statement regarding Carly.

  If Brand noticed how little she ate, he said nothing. Shawn and Sara carried the conversation beautifully. Their joy at seeing their father again was unabashedly enthusiastic. Carly discovered that it would be easy to love those two, and she silently prayed that they could come to love and accept her.

  Kay St. Clair cleared her throat before addressing Carly. “Tell me, what did your family think of this rushed marriage?”

  “My family?” Carly knew just by looking at Kay St. Clair that she was a woman who put a lot of stock in one’s background. “I’m afraid I don’t have any, Mrs. St. Clair … Kay,” she amended.

  “Don’t be silly, child, of course you do. Everyone has family.”

  “Carly was raised in foster homes, Mother,” Brand explained for her.

  “You were orphaned?” Kay St. Clair disregarded her son and centered her full attention on Carly.

  “Not exactly. I … I was taken from my mother by the state when I was Sara’s age.”

  “What about your father?” Shock had whitened the aging face. Lines of disapproval wrinkled her brow as Kay St. Clair set her fork aside.

  “I never knew my father.”

  A soft snicker followed. “Are you sure your parents were married?”

  “Mother,” Brand barked. “You’re insulting my wife.”

  Carly placed a hand on his forearm and shook her head. She didn’t want to cause any discord between Brand and his mother. “As a matter of fact, I’m not completely sure that they were.”

  Shawn and Sara had lowered their heads at the sound of raised voices. They sat across from Carly looking so small and frightened that her heart ached with the need to reassure them.

  “I hope you like surprises.” Carly directed the comment to the children. “Because I brought you each one.”

  “You did?” Shawn’s face brightened with excitement. “Can I see it?”

  “Can I see mine, too?” Sara’s eyes found her grandmother’s, and some of her eagerness faded. “Please,” she added politely.

  “After we finish lunch,” Carly promised, and winked.

  “Both Shawn and Sara have to brush their teeth first,” Kay St. Cla
ir inserted with a heavy note of censure.

  “We never brush our teeth after lunch. Why do we have to do it today?” Shawn asked, a puzzled look in his eyes.

  Their grandmother bristled noticeably. “Because we were too busy this morning. And until you move in with your father and … Carly, you must do as I say.”

  “Yes, Grandma,” Shawn and Sara returned, like finely trained puppets.

  Carly watched as a frown worked its way across Brand’s face. His mother’s reaction to Carly seemed to be as much of a surprise to him as it was to her. Brand hadn’t told her a lot about his mother, and she’d pictured her as the round, grandmotherly sort. Kay St. Clair certainly wasn’t that. She obviously cared for Shawn and Sara, and they returned that love, but she wasn’t the warm, open person Carly had expected. But then, she wasn’t the bride Kay St. Clair had anticipated, either.

  “You have a lovely home, Kay.” Carly tried again, knowing how difficult this meeting was for the older woman.

  “Thank you. I do my best.” The words were polite.

  Carly swallowed tightly and looked at Brand. He was pensive, sad. He must have felt her gaze because he gave her a reassuring smile. But it didn’t fool Carly. She knew what he was thinking.

  “Are there parks in Anchorage?” Shawn wanted to know.

  “Lots of them,” Brand confirmed.

  “Are there any close to where we’re going to live?”

  “Not real close,” Carly answered. “Farther than walking distance. But there’s a big backyard in the house we’re renting and I think we can probably persuade your dad to put up a swing set.”

  “Really?” Sara’s blue eyes became round as saucers. “Grandma doesn’t like us to play on her lawn.”

  “Children ruin the grass,” Kay announced in starched tones. “So I take Shawn and Sara to the park.”

  “Almost every day,” Sara added.

  “How nice of your grandma to do that for you.” Brand’s mother had obviously tried hard to give the children a good home.

  “I’ll be sending a list of instructions with Shawn and Sara,” Kay said, her eyes avoiding Carly’s. “It’s quite extensive, but I feel the transition from Oregon to Alaska will be much smoother for them if you follow my advice.”

  “Mother, I don’t think—”

  “That was thoughtful of you,” Carly said, interrupting her husband. “I’ll be pleased to read them over. Mothering is new to me, and I’ll admit I have lots to learn.”

  “I’m finished now, Grandma,” Shawn said eagerly. “Can I go brush my teeth?”

  “Say it properly,” Kay St. Clair ordered.

  “May I be excused, please?”

  A small smile of pride cracked the tight lines of the older woman’s face. “Yes, you may be excused. Very good, Shawn.”

  “May I be excused, too?” Sara requested.

  “Excused,” Kay corrected. “Say it again.”

  “Excu … excused.” Sara beamed proudly at having managed the difficult word.

  “Yes. Both of you brush your teeth and then you can see what your father brought you.”

  “Carly brought the gifts.” Brand corrected the intended slight.

  Her meal was practically untouched when Carly set her fork aside. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get the gifts from my suitcase.” She didn’t wait for Kay’s permission, although she had the suspicion that it was expected of her.

  The edge of the mattress sank with her weight as Carly covered her face with her hands. This meeting with Kay St. Clair was so much worse than she’d anticipated.

  “We brushed our teeth.” Shawn and Sara stood in the open doorway, startling her.

  Carly forced herself to smile. “Then I bet you’re ready for your presents.”

  They both nodded with wide-eyed eagerness.

  Carly took out the two decoratively wrapped packages from inside her suitcase and handed them to Shawn and Sara.

  They sank to the floor and ripped off the ribbon and paper with a speed that was amazing.

  “A doll,” Sara cried, her young voice filled with happy delight. “I’ve always, always wanted one just like this.” Two young arms circled Carly’s neck and hugged her close.

  Carly squeezed her fondly in return. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Wow.” Shawn’s eyes were wide as he leafed through the picture book about the Alaskan mountains. “Thank you.”

  “Can we show Grandma?” Sara wanted to know.

  “Of course.” Carly followed them into the living room and noted again the censure in Kay St. Clair’s eyes as she examined the gifts.

  “I never did approve of those dolls.” She spoke to her son, but the slight was meant for Carly.

  Indecision flared in Brand’s eyes. He was as confused and unsure as Carly.

  “Daddy said you were going to be our new mother. Can I call you Mom?” Sara asked, tugging at Carly’s pants leg.

  “If you like.”

  Kay St. Clair’s mouth narrowed into a tight line.

  “Maybe you should call me Carly,” she added hurriedly.

  Brand brought Sara onto his knee. “You do what’s the most comfortable for you.”

  “But I thought we already had a mom.”

  “You did,” Kay St. Clair inserted coolly. “But she died.”

  “I think I’ll call you Carly,” Shawn stated thoughtfully, after a long pause.

  “If that’s what makes you most comfortable.” Carly responded as best she could under the circumstances. In one foster home where she’d lived, the parents had insisted she call them Mother and Father. Half the time the words had stuck in her throat. She wouldn’t be offended if Shawn chose to call her by her first name.

  “I think I’ll call you Mom,” Sara said from her father’s knee. “I don’t remember my other mommy.”

  “Sure you do, Sara,” Kay St. Clair said sharply.

  “All I can remember is that she smelled funny and she didn’t have any hair.”

  A pained look flickered in Brand’s eyes, one so fleeting that for a moment Carly thought she’d imagined it. But when he spoke, the pain in his voice confirmed the sadness in his eyes.

  “That was the smell of the hospital and all her medicine,” Brand explained carefully. “She lost her hair because the doctors were doing everything they could to make her well again. One of those treatments was called chemotherapy.”

  “And it made all her hair come out?” Two pairs of serious blue eyes studied Brand.

  He nodded. “But your mother had real pretty hair. Just like yours, Sara.”

  The small face wrinkled in deep thought. “I wish I could remember her better.”

  “I do too, sweetheart,” Brand murmured tenderly, holding his daughter in his arms.

  Standing outside the circle of this poignant family group, Carly felt a brooding sense of distance, of separation. These three—four, if she included Brand’s mother—were a family in themselves. The breath caught in her lungs as she watched them. All the emotional insecurities of her childhood reared up, haunting her, confronting her with the unpleasant realities of this marriage.

  Again, just as she had been as a child, she was on the outside looking in. She belonged, and yet she didn’t. She wasn’t part of the family but separate. Any love and attention she’d received when growing up had always been what was left over from that given to the family’s real children. She wasn’t Brand’s first wife but his second. And clearly a poor second, judging from his mother’s reaction after meeting her.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to lie down.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She avoided Brand’s eyes as she turned toward the bedroom.

  Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that by the time she reached the bed she all but fell onto the soft mattress. Everything she’d dreaded and feared was happening. And the worst part of it was she could do nothing to change what was going on around her.

  When she heard Brand’s footsteps, Carly closed her eyes and pretende
d to be asleep. He hesitated in the doorway—before turning away.

  Carly didn’t know how long she stared at the ceiling. The muted sounds coming from the bedroom next to hers distracted her troubled thoughts. As much as she wanted to hide, Carly knew she couldn’t stay in the bedroom for the entire weekend.

  After combing her hair, she added blush to her cheeks. If she didn’t, Brand was sure to comment on how pale she looked.

  As she walked past Sara’s room, Carly paused and glanced inside. The little girl was sitting on top of her mattress. A jewelry box was open in front of her, and whatever was inside commanded her attention.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi … Mom.” Sara looked up and spoke with a shy smile.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Pictures of my other mommy.”

  Carly’s heart plummeted. She was a fool to believe that Sandra wouldn’t haunt her. Borrowed dreams were all the future held. Another woman’s husband. Another woman’s children.

  “Would you like to see?”

  Some perverse curiosity demanded that Carly look. Sitting on the bed beside the sweet, blond-haired child, she examined each color print.

  “My hair is like hers, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” The strangled sound that came from Carly’s throat made Sara turn and stare at her.

  “She was real pretty, too,” Shawn said from the hallway. “Sometimes she sprayed on perfume and smelled good.” Shawn seemed to want to correct his sister’s memory.

  “Did she read to us?” Sara inquired softly. “Like Grandma does sometimes?”

  “Yup. Don’t you remember, Sara? Don’t you remember anything?”

  Carly couldn’t stand much more of this. She was certain the children didn’t often talk about their mother. Brand’s presence had resurrected these curious memories. The pain it caused her to listen to them speak about Sandra was beyond description. She couldn’t take their mother away from them, but she wasn’t sure that she could live in the shadow of Sandra’s memory.

  “I think I’ll go find your father,” Carly said, hiding behind a cheerful façade.

  “He’s talking to Grandma on the patio,” Shawn provided. “We’re supposed to be resting.” He added that second fact with a hint of indignation. “Second-graders shouldn’t have to take naps,” he mumbled under his breath just loud enough for Carly to hear. “When we come and live with you and Dad, I won’t have to, will I?”