Carly ruffled the top of his blond head. “No,” she whispered. “But don’t say anything to your grandmother.”
Shawn’s wide eyes sparkled and they shared a conspiratorial smile.
“When are we moving to Anchor … Alaska?” Sara asked, tucking the pictures back inside the jewelry box.
“Three weeks.” Hardly any time at all, Carly realized. Certainly not enough to settle the horrible doubts she was facing.
“Will you read to us and tell us stories?”
Carly stared blankly at the pair. “If you like.”
“Goody.” Sara clapped her hands gleefully.
“Shh,” Shawn warned. “Grandma will hear.”
Raised voices on the patio outside stopped Carly halfway through the kitchen. Brand and his mother were in the middle of a heated exchange. Their voices struggled to remain calm and composed. Carly doubted that Brand’s mother ever shouted.
“But you hardly know her,” Kay returned, with an uncharacteristic quiver that revealed how upset she was.
“I know everything that’s necessary. Carly’s given me back a life I thought I’d lost when Sandra died.” There was an exasperated appeal in the way Brand spoke.
“There was no need to remarry so soon. Certainly you could have found someone more suitable,” Kay St. Clair said, as she examined the rose bushes that grew in abundance around the patio.
Carly stood next to the sliding glass door, but neither was aware of her presence.
“I wish you’d give her a chance, Mother. Carly’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t I deserve a little happiness? Shawn and Sara …”
“That brings up another matter,” his mother interrupted crisply. “How can you possibly think Carly is a proper replacement for the care I’ve given Shawn and Sara? When I told you I wanted to relax and travel for a time, I assumed you’d hire a housekeeper. I had no idea you’d marry the first woman to turn you on.”
Brand’s jaw went white and he seemed to struggle with his anger. The lines that were etched out from his eyes relayed the effort it took. There was a silent, dangerous glare in his eyes. “Carly is everything I’ve ever hoped to find in a woman.”
Slowly, deliberately, Brand’s mother shook her head with disapproval. “Can’t you see that she’s trying to bribe the children? Bringing them presents, telling them about a swing set. Really, Brand. And her family …”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Brand’s tight expression grew grim.
“Honestly, son, sometimes you can be so blind.” Kay cut a delicate rosebud from the flowering bush. “I don’t mean to sound crass when I say that Carly is hardly the type of woman that men marry.”
Shock waves tumbled through Carly. Her hand reached for the kitchen counter to steady herself. Her knees felt so weak that she thought for a moment that she might collapse. In all her life no one had ever said anything that could hurt her more. With an attitude that bordered on the fanatical, she’d tried desperately not to be anything like her mother. Anger and outrage seared her mind.
Brand looked as if he was about to explode.
Stepping onto the patio, Carly tilted her head at a proud angle. “You will apologize for that comment, Mrs. St. Clair.”
Carly didn’t know who was more shocked: Brand or his mother.
Kay was obviously flustered, but to her credit recovered quickly and cleared her throat. “It’s often been said that people who listen in on conversations don’t hear good things about themselves.”
Brand moved to Carly’s side and slipped an arm around her waist, bringing her close to him. “You owe us both an apology, Mother.”
Carly didn’t want him to touch her but hadn’t the strength to escape him. She felt stiff and brittle. Her heart was pounding so loud, she was convinced the whole city could hear it.
Kay St. Clair conceded. “Perhaps. Only time will prove what I say. Until then, I can only offer my regrets for any thoughtlessness on my part.” Without a hint of remorse, she returned her attention to the rosebush.
Brand took Carly’s hand and pulled her into the kitchen. “Let’s get out of here,” he insisted. “I won’t have you subjected to this.”
“No.” Her throat worked convulsively. “We can’t.”
“Oh, yes we can.” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice tight with impatience. “You don’t have to take this from anyone. Least of all, my mother.”
Gently, Carly shook her head. “She loves you, and she loves Shawn and Sara. I’m a stranger who’s invaded her world. And I’m not carrying the proper credentials.”
“Carly.” Brand frowned, unsure.
“I understand her better than you think,” Carly whispered. “If we leave now, the situation will be unbearable for Shawn and Sara.”
“We could take them with us,” Brand argued.
“And cause an even greater rift between you and your mother? Taking the children now would be heartless. She loves them, Brand.”
“But she’s hurt you, and I won’t stand for that.” His eyes roved over her face.
“Your mother’s doubts and mistrusts are natural.”
Brand’s fingers bit into her upper arms. “Don’t make excuses for her.”
Carly closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “The family I moved in with when I was fourteen had a natural daughter the same age. She hated me. It wasn’t that I’d done anything. But I was there. I took away from the attention and love she felt was her due—not mine. I was a stranger with a murky past.”
Brand brought her into his arms. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Carly. You can’t compare that to what’s happening with my mother now.”
Her smile was sad. She wouldn’t argue with him, but in her heart, she knew. The situation was no different—and in many ways it was worse.
That night Carly lay awake. She could tell by the way Brand was breathing that he wasn’t asleep either. The space between them seemed greater than just a few inches. In some ways whole universes stretched between them.
“You awake?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She turned to cuddle him, nestling her head against his shoulder. The need to feel his arms around her was strong. “I’m cold.”
Immediately, Brand’s arms brought her more fully into his embrace. “Tell me what happened in that foster home you were talking about earlier.”
“Why?”
“I need to know,” he returned in a slow, uneven murmur.
“Her name was Joyce,” Carly murmured softly. “She never did learn to like me. I was a threat to her. Not with just her family, but at school as well. When we were allowed to date, it didn’t matter who asked me out, Joyce had to prove that she could take that boy away from me.”
“Did she?”
Carly shrugged. “Sometimes. But it didn’t matter.” The only man Carly had ever really loved was Brand.
“Did you compete with her?”
“I tried hard not to,” she admitted and smiled wryly. “But she was intimidated, simply by my being there.”
“Her parents couldn’t see what was happening?”
“I’m sure they could, but their hands were tied. If they’d intervened, then Joyce would have had all the more reason to hate me.”
“So you were left to sink or swim,” he said dryly.
As he spoke, Carly’s fingers playfully tugged at the hairs on his chest.
“If you don’t stop doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens,” Brand ground out near her ear.
Carly giggled, releasing the tension that had stretched between them only seconds before. “That sounds promising.”
“I can offer you a lot more than promises,” Brand mumbled, and stopped her fingers, capturing one arm. Twisting, he repositioned himself so that he was holding her hands down at either side of her head. “Do you surrender?”
“Never,” Carly said, and laughed softly. “I’d be crazy to give up when I’m winning.”
“Winning?” he
asked incredulously.
“You bet.” She lifted her head just enough to press her mouth lightly to his. In a short, teasing action her tongue moistened his mouth. Brand released a short sigh and melted against her. His hands no longer pinned her to the bed as they sought softer, more feminine areas. Carly wasn’t given the opportunity to move as his mouth ravaged hers. Pressing her into the mattress, he buried his face in the hollow of her throat, teasing her with his tongue.
“See?” she whispered happily. “What did I tell you? I’m winning.”
“You’re mighty brave in my mother’s house.” Brand knew how uncomfortable she’d be making love with only a thin wall separating them from Kay.
“Wait until you see how bold I can get!” Carly said, with a soft, subdued laugh.
“Daddy?”
The sound of the soft voice startled Carly. Brand rolled aside and Carly sat upright.
“I can’t sleep.” Sara stood in the doorway, tightly clutching her new doll under her arm.
“Did we wake you up?” Carly wanted to know, tossing Brand an accusing glare.
“No. I had to go potty and then I heard you giggle and I wanted to giggle, too.”
Carly motioned with one finger for Sara to come to her. The little girl scooted eagerly across the floor to Carly’s side of the bed. Leaning over, she whispered in Sara’s ear and the child broke out in delighted laughter.
“What’d you say about me?” Brand demanded mockingly.
“How’d you know I said anything that had to do with you?”
“You had that look in your eye.”
Carly threw back the sheets and Sara crawled under the covers with her. “You can’t blame me if women often react to you with laughter. Isn’t that right, Sara?” The little girl agreed with an eager nod.
“What’s all the noise about?” Shawn stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.
“Did your father wake you up, too?” Carly asked.
“No, Sara did. She was giggling.”
“That was Carly,” Brand corrected.
Shawn hesitated. “How come Sara gets to sleep with you?”
“That wasn’t my idea,” Brand said, and lifted the covers. “Might as well get the whole family in here.”
Shawn climbed in beside his father. “I’m sleepy. Good night,” he whispered.
Brand looked at Carly, with Sara snuggled close in her arms, and the tenderness in his eyes was enough to make her want to cry.
“Good night, family,” Brand issued softly, and reached for Carly’s hand.
Chapter Eleven
The float plane veered to the left after taking off from Dutch Harbor. The small settlement was in the long tail of the Aleutian Islands, which stretched like a graceful arc of stepping-stones between two continents. The Aleutians spanned hundreds of miles to the farthest western extension of North America. Carly gazed out of the window at Unalaska Island, which was wedged between the frigid North Pacific and the storm-tossed Bering Sea.
June had arrived, and Alaska had shed its cold winter coat, stretching and waking to explode in flowers and sunshine. To Carly, with Brand at her side, it was paradise.
She had only flown with him a handful of times, and usually on short trips that were accomplished in less than a day. Now, high above the dark waters, she was amazed by the harshness of the terrain below. The islands had few trees, all of stunted growth. Grass grew in abundance and covered the ground. The contrast with the magnificent cliffs and the forests thick with life on the Alaska mainland was striking.
Looking around her now, she was struck again by the serene mountains. Capped with snow, they stretched for miles in a land called “America’s Siberia.” Brand had explained that the Aleutian Islands contained the longest range of active volcanoes in the United States. Forty-six was the number he’d quoted her.
Brand turned his attention from the controls. “You’re very quiet,” he said, above the roar of the engine. Reaching for Carly’s hand, he kissed her fingertips.
She offered him a dry smile.
“Are you tired?”
“Not at all. I’m overwhelmed by Alaska’s diversity.” What she was really thinking was how much she wanted Brand to teach her to fly. His reluctance was more obvious every time she brought up the subject. Carly didn’t kid herself. She knew why.
“Dutch Harbor’s got quite a history,” Brand remarked. “During World War Two, when Japan was preparing for the battle of Midway, they bombed Dutch Harbor.”
“Did their bombers fly off course?” Carly teased. “Midway’s in the South Pacific.”
“No, they’d hoped to draw the Pacific fleet north. The United States spent fourteen months and hundreds of lives in liberating the islands. Most of those men never saw the enemy. They died from the weather and disease.”
Carly’s mind filled with images of young men bloody, shaking, and freezing. She recalled having read something about the war in the Aleutians.
“How long before we arrive at Lake Iliamna?” She wanted to direct her thoughts from the unpleasant paths her mind was exploring.
“Not long. Are you anxious for our honeymoon?”
“What I want to know is what you had to promise George for me to get all this time off. I thought he’d explode because I wanted to attend Diana’s wedding. Now he’s given me time off two weeks running.”
“What makes you think I promised him anything?”
“I know George.” In some ways she knew him better than she did Brand.
His gaze roamed possessively over her face. “Don’t ask so many questions.”
Carly had faced a lot of unanswered questions this past week. Brand’s children were beautiful, delightful. But she couldn’t look at them without seeing Sandra. Brand knew that, and had tried in some illogical way to make it up to her all week. His mother had reminded Carly forcefully that she would never fit into Kay’s image of a wife and mother. For a time Carly might be able to fool herself, but it wouldn’t last long. She was an intruder in their lives, just as she had infringed on other lives as a child. There were no dreams for her. Only the borrowed ones of others.
Brand had sensed her qualms. All week he’d been watching, waiting. For what, Carly wasn’t sure. He might have thought she was going to leave him, but she wasn’t. At night, he’d reach for her. “I love you, Carly,” was all he’d say. Their lovemaking was volcanic. With his arms wrapped securely around her, he fell asleep afterward. Carly wasn’t so fortunate. She’d slept fitfully all week, waking in the darkest part of the night that precedes dawn. Often she was up and dressed when Brand awoke. They were both praying with a desperation born of silent torment that this time alone, this honeymoon, would set things right.
Lake Iliamna was as beautiful as Brand had described. The male proprietor of the log-cabin lodge welcomed them like family. He’d known Brand since childhood—which meant he’d known Sandra as well.
Carly tried not to think about that as they climbed the polished stairs that led to their suite. The honeymoon suite.
The moment the door closed, Brand reached for her and kissed her hungrily. His mouth lingered to tease the curve of her lips.
“Carly,” he whispered, as he lifted the thick Indian sweater over her head. “I need you.” His fingers hurried with the buttons of her blouse, pushing it from her shoulders.
Carly’s fingers were just as eagerly working at his clothing, and when they fell into the bed, she kissed him and whispered, “I do love you, Brand.” Her voice was small and filled with emotion.
“I know.” The desperate ring of his response spoke of his own fears. As if afraid he had admitted something he shouldn’t have, Brand kissed her. The hard pressure of his mouth covered hers as he pushed her deep into the comfort of the mattress. It wasn’t long before Carly lost herself in the golden sensations of his lovemaking.
* * *
Carly stood in her silk robe, gazing out of the window onto the serene, blue lake in the distance. Brand continued to sleep peac
efully, undisturbed by her absence. She turned and studied him for an instant as she tried to swallow back the doubts that reared up to face her like a charging enemy. After they’d made love, Carly had lain in his arms and thought how much simpler life would be if she had become his lover instead of his wife. Shawn and Sara were due to arrive in Anchorage in less than two weeks and she wasn’t ready. Not emotionally. Not in any way that mattered. These two wonderful children expected a mother … a family—not some emotionally insecure little girl who was struggling to reconcile her past. Shawn, Sara, and Brand deserved much more than what she could give them. At least, what she was capable of giving them now.
“Morning.” Brand joined her at the window, slipping his hands around her slim waist. His mouth came down to lightly claim her lips and nibble on their softness.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” His warm breath mingled with hers.
Carly wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to respond, but her body refused to relax.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” His hands rubbed her back in a soothing, coaxing motion as his eyes lovingly caressed hers.
Whenever Brand called her by that affectionate term, she bristled and wanted to scream at him. “Don’t call me that,” she returned stiffly, hating herself for being so petty.
“ ‘Honey’? Why not?”
Carly inhaled sharply. “Because that’s what you used to call Sandra.”
The morning light accentuated the frustrated, tired look in Brand’s dark eyes. He released her and walked to the other side of the room. Jerking his hand through his hair, Brand expelled a hard breath. “Yes, sometimes I did. But that was then. You’re now. Sandra has no part in our lives.”
“But ultimately she affects us.”
“Carly, please,” he said, his fists clenched as he struggled to control his anger. “Sandra is gone. How long are you going to compete with a dead woman?”
Her arms cradled her stomach as she turned from him and stared sightlessly out the window. Arguing the matter was useless. Her heart was breaking. She couldn’t let them continue as they had this week—stepping around each other, avoiding confrontations, pretending nothing was wrong. “I should never have married you, Brand. We would’ve been wonderful lovers.” Her voice became a low, aching whisper. “But what we have now isn’t going to work.”
Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics) Page 15
