Return to Glory (Hqn)

by Sara Arden

  He let himself enjoy the quiet moment, just holding her. This was what he’d gone through hell for, and Jack decided that every second of it was worth it.

  Jack must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, she was digging her nails into his shoulder and whimpering.

  “What’s wrong?” His arms tightened around her instinctively.

  “I don’t know, but it hurts, Jack.”

  Fear shot through him hot and sharp. “Where does it hurt?” He kept his voice calm, but on the inside he knew all the pretty pictures he’d just painted were about to get smeared with turpentine.

  “I can’t explain it. Just...inside.”

  He never thought he’d have to use his training like this. Everything he’d just allowed himself to feel, he flipped it off like a switch. Betsy needed him to be strong and he wouldn’t fail her.

  “It’s going to be okay, Betsy. Stay calm.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t. I’m right here.” He pushed away the walls of their makeshift fort and reached for his phone, but decided he’d make better time to the hospital himself. He stood first, then leaned back down. “Okay, Bets. Hang on tight.” He kept saying her name, using small endearments to get her to focus on the sound of his voice and to stay calm.

  Inside, he was dying. Jack knew the only reason she had to stay with him was gone and the fey bubble of hope in which he’d seen their future together was gone. He’d wanted this baby, this life.

  Her fingers were claws, twisted with her pain as they dug into him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, sweet thing. I can take it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Ride the pain any way you have to. Let it roll through you.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Everything is going to be fine,” he lied.

  He cradled her close, grabbed his keys and drove her to Glory General.

  * * *

  BETSY WAS NUMB.

  After a multitude of tests, and hours of waiting, the doctor told her that she’d never been pregnant. It was just a cyst and it had given her a false positive on both tests, as well as mimicking the other symptoms of pregnancy. The cyst had burst and along with it Jack’s reason for marrying her.

  Just a cyst.

  Just the end of everything.

  She’d fallen in love with her child and all the wonderful things she was going to do in the world. Those hopes and dreams were all ash and dust.

  Just a cyst, and if you’d lose a few pounds, you wouldn’t get them.

  Betsy didn’t know how she managed to keep her mouth closed when the doctor had said that, but she did. Maybe it was the expression on Jack’s face. It was stoic and stony, but she could see the fury in his eyes.

  His grip on her hand was gentle, but she could feel the strength there. He reassured her, comforted her and kept telling her it was okay.

  But it really wasn’t, was it? It wasn’t okay at all.

  He’d asked her to marry him. She’d said yes. Only there was no longer any need, nothing tethering him to her, and she supposed that was just as well. She’d said that she didn’t want to be that woman, the one who used a child to keep a man.

  The universe had heard and answered.

  A dark chasm opened up inside her, and even her bones felt brittle and hollow.

  “Don’t worry,” the nurse said as she handed Betsy her discharge papers. “You can keep trying.” She gave them a well-meaning grin and closed the curtain so Betsy could change back into Jack’s T-shirt in privacy.

  They could keep trying. It sounded tinny and false to her ears and Betsy wanted to crawl under a rock and hide away from it all. She couldn’t look at him. He was sitting right next to her, had stayed with her through all of it without complaint, and she didn’t even want to look at his handsome face.

  Betsy didn’t think she’d be able to stand to see what was there in his eyes, the set of his jaw.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed in a choked voice. “I had a blood test to confirm, I swear.”

  “If you said you did, Bets, then I know you did. Don’t worry about that now. I want to get you home and resting like the doctor said.”

  Home.

  That wasn’t going to be with Jack anymore.

  It would be back to her little apartment above the bakery. It was home and there were a lot of good memories there.

  “I need to stop by your place and get my things.”

  “My place?” He tilted her chin so she’d face him. “Nothing has changed. I asked you to marry me. You said yes. It’s your place now, too.”

  “Jack.” She swallowed hard. “We both know the only reason you asked was that we thought I was pregnant. There’s no reason to get married now.”

  “No reason?” he parroted, as if the words made no sense to him. “How about I love you and want to spend my life with you? How about I wanted to do this with you, have our family?”

  “No, you don’t. You are physically incapable of breaking your word because you’re a good man. You’d rather spend your life chained to me than hurt me. But you know what? Not only do you deserve better, but I do, too. I deserve to be married to someone who is in love with me. Who thinks the sun rises and sets in my eyes. Someone who feels about me the way I’ve always felt about you. And I know you don’t.”

  “How do you know that? You’re not me. You don’t know what I feel.”

  “Yes, I do know what you feel. Or what you don’t feel, rather. Because if you did, you’d have done something besides push me away. Well, I got the message, Jack. Loud and clear, and it’s okay. It really is. Just like you said. You promised it would be okay, and it is.” Betsy couldn’t believe the things she was saying. Every word was a sword that had to push its way through her heart to get to her tongue, but they were right and true, and so had to be spoken.

  Her lip quivered, but she refused to cry. “I know you care about me. That’s never been up for debate.” She worked up her courage to finish. “You’re not breaking your word to me and you’re still part of the Lewis family. Whatever has happened between us, that will never change. So, now you see, there’s no reason to keep up the farce.”

  Jack’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I should have. But I do love you, Betsy. I’m in love with you. I have been since I gave you my tags. I just didn’t know it.”

  “How do you not know you’re in love with someone? It feels like a comet burning you up from the inside out. That’s not something that happens and you just...don’t notice. Let it go. It’s over.” She turned away from him. “I want to go home.”

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go, sweet thing. But I’m also going to prove this to you.” He squeezed her hand.

  “I don’t think I want you to take me home. I need to be alone for a while.”

  “I know you don’t believe this right now, but something was taken from me today, too. You’re not the only one who hurts.”

  “Just go.” Tears pricked behind her eyes, that pins-and-needles feeling in her nose. She didn’t want him to see her cry.

  “If that’s what you want.” He stood and leaned over her, the scent of him wrapping around her like a blanket. Jack brushed his lips against her cheek.

  And for a second, part of her wanted to tell him to stay. It wanted to believe that she was more than an obligation. She wanted to curl against him and let him take care of her. She wanted to talk about all their hopes and dreams together. She wanted—so many things that were in truth out of reach.

  She knew she’d done the right thing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  AFTER A FEW DAYS, Betsy managed to get back into the routine of her life in Glory. A routine that didn’t include Jack. She baked. She decorated the shop
for Christmas, and she baked some more. The townspeople were happy to have her back and she had more work than she knew what to do with. Marcel and Abelard both called to check in on her and she put on a happy face.

  Jack seemed to take her at her word when she said that she didn’t want to see him, and she was both mollified to be right and even more heartbroken. She knew that she couldn’t be angry with him for taking her at her word.

  But there was still some part of her dreamer’s heart that hadn’t been crushed and it kept hoping for a grand gesture. Or any gesture, but there was nothing. She made herself right with it as best she could and threw herself into work.

  Christmas Eve Day dawned bright and clear. Betsy was disappointed because she wanted snow. There was something infinitely magical about Christmas snow.

  Her mother called as she was getting ready to send out the last of the Christmas orders.

  “I’m trying to wrap it up, Mom. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done to help with the preparations.”

  “That’s actually why I called. You don’t need to do anything but look pretty and bring some of those wedding cake samples that your father likes so much. He’ll be home for Christmas Eve dinner.”

  A thrill shot through Betsy. Her dad was coming home. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him in months. He’d been on some secret squirrel mission for the Department of Defense and had an alias and everything. He couldn’t have any ties to home. “That’s great, Mama. I can’t wait to see him.”

  “So, are you bringing the samples?”

  “Yes.” Betsy found herself smiling.

  “And look pretty. Like, pretty pretty. For-strangers pretty.”

  “If you’re trying to set me up with someone on Christmas Eve—”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. But we’re going to take a family picture. We haven’t done that in years.”

  Betsy hadn’t actually told her mother everything that had happened between her and Jack. She didn’t want to hash it out a hundred times and she didn’t want to see that look in her eyes when she watched them together. It made it more bearable somehow that she’d only shared it with India and Jack himself.

  God, she missed him. She missed him so hard it was a physical ache.

  She hoped someday it wouldn’t hurt so much to love him.

  “Okay, Mama. But I mean it. If there is one person there who shouldn’t be, I’m leaving.”

  “No one who’s not supposed to be? I can definitely promise you that. I know your heart is firmly and forever in Jack’s keeping. I wouldn’t interfere. I know you two will work it out.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Jack,” she grumbled.

  Well, why not? It’s not like you think about anything else but him. You might as well talk about him, she chastised herself.

  “Okay, okay. We’ll see you in a little bit.” Lula hung up without waiting for Betsy to say goodbye.

  Betsy finished packaging the last of the orders and closed up the shop. She trudged up the stairs to get ready for the family dinner and remembered what her mother said about pictures. The dress she’d planned on wearing had a 1960s comic book print. That wasn’t exactly Christmas picture festive, so she grabbed her favorite red cashmere sweater, black leggings and boots. She thought she looked very Betsey Johnson, a designer she loved for more than the obvious reasons.

  She applied her makeup carefully and when she was satisfied with her look, she grabbed the box of wedding cake samples that her father loved so much and drove to her parents’ house.

  Betsy might have accidentally taken the long way so she could drive by Jack’s house. It was as close as she was going to get to him and she promised herself that after today, she’d never do it again.

  She felt like that girl—Stalker McCrazy. It was ridiculous. She was the one who’d told him to go—she had to stop obsessing and get on with the business of living her life without him. She should’ve done it a long time ago.

  His car was parked on the street, and there was a wreath with silver bells on his door. She wondered which neighbor had brought that to him.

  Betsy depressed the accelerator and drove faster, determined not to think about Jack at all.

  * * *

  WHEN SHE WALKED into her parents’ house, the smells of Christmas ham, eggnog and cranberry-orange candles washed over her. It smelled like happy memories, and Betsy was determined that tonight would be another one.

  She inhaled deeply before taking off her coat and hanging it up. Betsy let herself enjoy the momentary silence and peace before the rush of hugs, chatter and face-stuffing that was about to commence. Food was a big part of any celebration in the Lewis household, and every holiday involved feasting.

  Betsy loved that about her family. The traditions, the noise and especially the way there was always a place at the table for anyone who didn’t have one of their own—be it family or tradition.

  People like India, like Jack, who were now part of the family.

  She remembered what her mother promised: No one who’s not supposed to be? I can definitely promise you that.

  Only Jack was supposed to be there and instead, his car was still parked in front of his house. So much for not thinking about him.

  “Is that you, honey? Come into the living room. We’re about to start pictures,” her mother called.

  They wouldn’t start without her father. She ran into the living room and launched herself at Anthony Lewis. He caught his daughter easily and squeezed her tight. It felt as if she hadn’t seen him in years. She turned her face into his shoulder and inhaled the familiar scent of him. He looked the same as when he’d left, maybe a few more wings of gray at his temples, a sharp contrast to his dark hair. The lines around his eyes were more pronounced, his job having taken its toll.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “God, Bets. Leave some Dad for the rest of us,” Caleb said.

  Betsy hadn’t seen Caleb, either, since being back. Her anger at him had been justified, but she realized it wasn’t worth going so long without her big brother. She yanked him into the hug.

  India shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “You guys are so weird.”

  “Oh you’re not getting out of the love.” Lula hugged her hard and India allowed it. “Merry Christmas, India.”

  India mumbled something in return, and that was when the door opened again.

  Caleb pulled her in tight for another hug before she could turn to see who it was. “I have to get another one of these before you stop speaking to me again.”

  “You’re not sorry at all, are you? What did you do?” she asked, knowing without looking who stood in the door.

  When Caleb released her, Betsy turned oh so slowly, like a doll on a carousel, toward the figure in the door.

  Jack.

  Of course it was Jack.

  The sight of him was welcome and warm, but sharp and painful, too. He’d grown out his hair a bit, long enough so it feathered back behind his ears and curled at his collar like chaffs of wheat tipped with gold. He wore a black sweater that accentuated the width of his shoulders and biceps.

  She wanted to fling herself into his arms, press her lips against his hard mouth; she just wanted. He had a bag of presents in his hand and he smiled at her as though nothing had changed between them. She could see the boy he’d been in that smile.

  “Hey, Bets. Merry Christmas.”

  She pursed her lips and forced breath into her lungs, commanded her voice to be steady. “Merry Christmas.”

  Lula embraced him and kissed him on the cheek, and her dad shook his hand and then drew him in close for a man hug that consisted of backslapping and other rough affection.

  He did belong there and even though it hurt to see him, Betsy was glad he’d come. Not only so she could quench her thirst for the sigh
t of him, but because he was part of the family. Her parents loved him like their own son. It was only right he spend Christmas with them.

  A hot flush crept up Betsy’s neck. She felt eyes on her, hot and intense. She looked up to see Jack watching her. He gave her that same devastating smile and she crossed her arms over her chest, as if that would stop her body’s reaction to him. The need that seared her from inside out—heart, soul and between her thighs.

  “Okay, Jack was just in time. Everyone line up in front of the Christmas tree.” Lula directed traffic. “Betsy, I want you in front of Jack. India with Caleb and Anthony— Anthony! If you eat those wedding cake samples before we take this picture, homecoming or no, I’m going to—”

  Betsy didn’t hear the rest of what her mother said. Instead she was standing too near him and he had his hands on her waist and the solid wall of his chest behind her. He smelled like bay rum aftershave, and the scent always made her think of hot nights and even hotter sex. She wet her lips and she didn’t know how she was going to make it through dinner. She was torn between trying to get closer to him and running away screaming.

  The camera clicked in rapid succession, snapping pictures to commemorate the holiday, and when it finally stopped, Betsy was seeing spots, but the whole of her awareness had narrowed to the tiniest pinprick of light and the heat of his hands burning through her sweater.

  “Okay, now you can go stuff your face with those cake samples,” Lula relented. “But you better have room for dinner.”

  On the surface, this holiday dinner was much like any other. Fussing at Anthony was her way of shedding the skin of his other life. It was instant immersion back into the world. It was familiar; it was comfortable.

  “What’s your favorite, Betsy?” Anthony asked her. “It looks like there are some new ones.” He eyed the contents of the purple box.

  Her favorite? “The mocha hazelnut, I suppose.”

  Anthony smiled. “Okay, we’ll order one of those.”

  That brought a smile to Betsy’s face. “When do you want it, Dad?”

  “That’s up to you, honey. Brides get to pick their wedding dates, don’t they? I’m just supposed to pay for it.” He grinned.