He’d never tried to make love with her again.
Within the month, she’d left him.
“I’m sorry,” she said simply, and forced herself to hold his hostile gaze. “I never meant to say that.”
“What does it matter?” he asked wearily. “You thought it. That’s enough.”
“But I didn’t. Not exactly.”
“That’s just semantics, Elissa.” He shifted, placing both feet on the floor and facing front. He rested his elbows on his knees and clenched his hands tightly together.
She stared at the stiffness of his back, at the way the T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. To think this strong, handsome man had once loved her and she’d thrown it all away. There were no words left to describe her regret.
“We were both so young,” she said at last. “We both made mistakes. Marriage requires flexibility and maturity. I didn’t have either.”
“You’ve become an expert?”
She flinched at his sarcasm. “I’ve grown up. I’ve taken the time to observe other couples. I’m willing to take a good part of the blame.”
“I suppose I should be happy you don’t want to hand it all to me.”
His dark hair brushed against the back of his neck. She remembered the silky feel of those short strands, the heat of him. She wanted to weep for all she’d lost.
“I wasn’t ready for marriage,” she said, confessing the truth out loud for the first time. “I loved you, but I didn’t know how to be a wife. I was terrified, though I thought I could fake my way through it. Obviously, I was wrong.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Then why’d you marry me?”
“Because I loved you. I was afraid if I told you about my doubts, I would lose you. What if you weren’t willing to wait for me? You were—” She closed her eyes against the memories, but they would not be denied. “I know you said you never noticed, but women everywhere wanted you. I saw it when we were dating while you were in law school and again when you joined the firm. I couldn’t take the chance that one of them would get through to you.”
Her eyes began to burn, but she blinked back the tears. Crying would accomplish nothing, except maybe making Cole despise her.
“You don’t expect me to believe this, do you?” he asked.
She saw the annoyance in his eyes, the hurt, the ghosts of their past. But no compassion, no understanding.
“See, you don’t get it even now. Of course you wouldn’t have understood then. You would have thought I was rejecting you.” She sucked in a breath. “Still, I should have tried. I didn’t bother and I lost you anyway.”
He turned his head, facing front again. “You didn’t lose me,” he said coldly. “You left. You walked out, just like everyone else in my life.”
His words caught her like a slap.
If he’d lashed out at her, she could have defended herself. But the calm statement of fact as he saw it left her no recourse, no defense. What was she supposed to say? How could she explain that she might have physically left, but only because she believed he’d already emotionally moved on? It was only with the hindsight of an adult that she realized the mistakes they’d both made.
“If I’d known you cared that much, I wouldn’t have left,” she said.
“Yeah, right.”
Familiar inadequacy flooded her. She sank into the sensation of never being enough. Once again she’d failed. Five years ago she’d had nothing to offer, and that hadn’t changed. Even the money she planned to give to the orphanage was virtually meaningless. She couldn’t buy meaning for her life. She couldn’t buy being of value to another human being. She couldn’t buy her way back into Cole’s heart.
She reached out her hand toward his shoulder, wanting to touch him, needing to connect. If only he would take her in his arms.
But she could no more ask for that than she could ask for the moon. She let her hand drop to the sofa, then rosé to her feet.
The pain of their physical and emotional separation made it difficult to breathe. Her heart wept for him—and for her. Had there ever been two more misguided souls? If only he had some use for her. If only she could turn back time. If only…
It was the story of her life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and quickly left the room.
Chapter Seven
“Here,” Millie said, handing Elissa an oversize apron. “One of the perks of always having a housekeeper who is a wonderful cook is that I’m dynamite in the kitchen, but very messy.”
Elissa eyed the older woman’s designer dress. “Maybe you should change into something more casual.”
Millie chuckled. “Haven’t you guessed? I don’t own very much that’s casual. Jeff is a wonderful husband and a great provider. One of his few flaws is that he likes to see me dressed in nice clothes.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s a hardship, but one I’m willing to bear in silence.”
“How noble of you.” Elissa slipped on the apron, then wrapped the ties around her waist, securing them in front. “How big is this cake going to be?” she asked. “If a normal cake serves what, eight? Or is it ten? There’s fifty-seven children, plus staff. Where’s Mindy? I think we’re going to have to use algebra to figure out this problem.”
“Don’t worry,” Millie said. “We’re making a normal cake using a regular-size mix. There will be a group celebration this Saturday night for Greg. This is private. Greg invites his closest friends. Kids only—no adults allowed. Get out the baking pans. They’re over there.”
Elissa moved to the far side of the cupboard and opened the right top door. Inside were dozens of different cake pans. “Round or square?”
Millie thought for a moment. “Round. It will be more fun to decorate.”
“I don’t understand,” Elissa said. “Why is there a big celebration on Saturday if Greg’s birthday is today, and why are we baking a little cake if there’s going to be a big one later?”
Instead of answering, Millie glanced at the doorway. “I see you lurking there, Tiffany. Hurry up. You’re late.”
The twelve-year-old shuffled into the room. “I had homework,” she said, her voice neutral but her expression haunted. Since getting the card returned and knowing she’d lost track of her mother, she had good days and bad ones. This was a bad one. “I still have some left to do. Maybe you should make the cake without me.”
Without saying a word, Millie crossed the room and pulled Tiffany into a tight embrace. The girl hugged her back fiercely. Elissa swallowed against the tightness in her throat.
Cole had made some calls, but no one knew where Tiffany’s mother was. Millie had told her that this sort of thing had happened before. Tiffany’s mother made an attempt to get off drugs, then relapsed and disappeared. One of these days she was going to run out of second chances.
Elissa watched the elegantly coiffured woman and the exotically beautiful preteen. They clung to each other, held fast by a bond of affection that would survive through time.
A flash of envy cut through Elissa. She knew that the children liked her, but she hadn’t been around long enough to make a difference in their lives. That’s what she wanted, she realized. She wanted to have value to someone at least once.
As she watched them, she saw a single tear slip down Tiffany’s cheek. Did the child cry for her mother or for herself? Elissa remembered Cole talking about the fantasy of an orphan finding a family. Of belonging. That dream had been ripped from Tiffany, leaving her with nothing but broken promises. The girl felt lost and unloved.
Elissa wished she had the right words to make it all better. Even knowing there probably weren’t any words didn’t make her feel any less inadequate. Of course, it was a feeling she was used to. Around Cole, she often felt inadequate. She had nothing to offer him, either. Growing up, her role in the family had been as the peacemaker. It was so passive, so without action. Kayla and Fallon were always going and doing. She was simply being.
She needed to be doing, she realized.
And she was, for the first time in her life. Maybe she didn’t know what to say now, but she would learn and she would get better at helping the children. They needed each other.
Millie set Tiffany at arm’s length and studied her face. “It’s Greg’s birthday.”
“I know,” Tiffany mumbled. “It’s just…” Her voice trailed off.
“It’s just now that your mother’s missing, you don’t have anyone to make you feel special.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. For the most part, the adults at the orphanage had been avoiding talking about what was bothering her.
“Greg considers you a good friend,” Millie said. “If you take the time and effort to bake him a cake, he’ll know that you think he’s special. It’s his birthday. Doesn’t he deserve that?”
Fresh tears spilled down Tiffany’s cheeks. She nodded once, then walked over to the drawer and pulled out an apron. “I want to help,” she said, then wiped her cheeks and gave Millie a shaky smile.
“Good. Go get a couple of eggs from the refrigerator.”
Elissa stared after the preteen as she walked across the large kitchen. “How’d you know what to say to her?” she asked Millie.
“I winged it. I’ve raised four children of my own, and I’ve worked here for a while. Sometimes it’s just a matter of love, luck and common sense. I try to teach these children what I’ve taught my own. That doing something for someone else makes you feel good and makes that other person feel you care. You get to feel useful, they get to feel loved. It’s a win-win situation. Jeff tells me I’m oversimplifying, but it works.”
A few minutes later they were elbow-deep in cake mix. As Elissa adjusted the temperature on the industrial-size oven, Millie turned off the handmixer and pushed it toward Tiffany.
“You finish up. The mixing, I mean. You can lick the beaters when we’re done.”
Tiffany grinned. “I know.”
She took the small appliance and turned it on. Holding the edge of the bowl, she carefully turned it, mixing the batter until all the lumps were gone. While Elissa poured the batter into the prepared pans, Millie and Tiffany split the beaters.
“Chocolate. My favorite,” Millie said, then closed her eyes in enjoyment.
“Mine, too,” Tiffany agreed, her good mood restored. “And Greg’s.” She rinsed the beater, then set it in the sink. “I’m going to go play outside until the cake’s done. Okay? Then I’ll come back so we can frost it.”
“Good idea,” Millie told her.
Elissa set the timer above the oven. “I’m glad you insisted she help with the cake. She’s obviously feeling better.”
Millie rinsed her beater, then ran hot water into a dishpan. “A good deed, good friends and a little chocolate goes a long way to curing most of life’s ills.” She glanced out the window. “Those kids are really enjoying the sports equipment.”
Elissa followed her gaze. She spotted Tiffany coming around from the rear of the dining hall. The preteen was hailed and invited to join an ongoing soccer game. She nodded her agreement and jumped into the action.
“I’m glad. That’s why I bought it.”
“The children aren’t the only ones. Look.” Millie pointed.
On the edge of the driveway, several younger girls stood patiently in line for their turn at double Dutch jump rope. Mindy held one end of the lines, with Cole at the other. He spoke as he turned, but Elissa couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“He’s great with kids,” she murmured, for the thousandth time wondering what it would have been like to have stayed with him. If they could have made the marriage work, they would have a couple of kids of their own by now. Watching him with the children here had convinced her he would be a wonderful father. Did he feel the lack as keenly as she did? Was not having children of his own just one more thing he hated her for?
“There’s a team of three girls who are really good jumpers,” Millie said, adding dishwashing soap to the pan. She swished the water until it was bubbly, then turned off the taps. “I tease him that they’re going to enter a competition and he’s going to be drafted to go along as one of the turners.” She shook her head, the movement causing sunlight to glint off her delicate diamond-and-pearl earrings. “Is that the right term? I can never remember. Anyway, I have this mental picture of all these teams of young girls, then Cole standing there looking out of place, but determined to win so his girls are happy.”
Elissa dropped the rest of the dirty dishes into the pan. “I can see it, too,” she said. “That’s the kind of man he is.”
Millie eyed her speculatively. “I know I’m an incredible busybody and it’s none of my business, but…”
Elissa grinned. “What do you want to know?”
“I’ll wash and you can dry,” Millie said.
“Bribing me?”
“Maybe.” The older woman reached for a dishcloth and began cleaning the mixing bowl. “Cole is very good-looking.”
“Agreed.”
“He’s wonderful with the children, thoughtful, caring, but very masculine.”
Elissa bit back a groan. Millie was going to ask why she, Elissa, had left him. While she considered Millie a friend, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get into that. It had been a foolish mistake, one she would like to have the chance to go back in time and fix. But that wasn’t an option. What was she going to say? Maybe the truth—that they’d both been young and foolish and that they’d acted hastily.
Millie handed her the bowl. Her blue eyes sparked with humor. “So, is he as amazing in bed as he looks?”
Elissa was pleased the bowl wasn’t glass, because it slipped from her fingers and hit the counter. She caught it, wondering if her face was as bright red as it felt.
Millie didn’t seem to notice. “He’s hot,” she went on, scrubbing the mixing blades. “The way he moves, those hands. I realize I have kids his age. It’s not that I want him for myself or anything, it’s just that I would have to be blind not to notice him. Also, he has that incredibly passionate nature.”
“I, ah, well…” Elissa didn’t know what to say. Millie had some firm views on the subject of Cole, and while they were accurate, the other woman was bound to be disappointed by the truth about what had happened in the marriage bed. Elissa was reluctant to confess all, mostly because she knew she was to blame for that failure.
“I was a virgin when we got married,” she said at last. “So I really can’t compare.”
Millie waved a wet, soapy hand. “I understand. Cole’s like Jeff. All that passion lurking behind gorgeous eyes. Even after all these years, I pinch myself and half expect to wake up from a dream. How did I get so lucky?” She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “The passion is important, that’s for sure. When things are going badly, and in all marriages they do, if it stays hot in the bedroom, then you can ride out the storm. We’ve survived a lot of rough weather by locking our bedroom door and making love.” She grinned. “Not that my children want to think about that. They’re grown up with kids of their own and they still want to think they’re the result of immaculate conception.”
Elissa laughed with her, all the while wishing she had the courage to tell Millie the truth. Maybe the older woman could give her some advice. Or maybe it was too late for them.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Elissa said, putting down the bowl and crossing to the wall unit. She spoke into the receiver, then jotted a note on the pad stuck to the wall. When she hung up, she shrugged. “It was a message for Cole. About his legal practice. I’ll put it in his office when I’m done here.”
“That boy works too hard,” Millie said.
“I know.” Elissa was afraid the conversation would return to Cole’s prowess in bed, so she changed the subject. “How’s the boutique doing?” she asked.
Millie rinsed the beaters and set them on the drainer. “Wonderful. We have a new shipment coming in. You should come and look at the new clothes for fall. They’re wonderful.”
&
nbsp; Twenty minutes later Elissa left the kitchen. The cake pans were cooling on the counter. She had the rest of the afternoon off. There were a couple of bills she had to pay, and a book she’d been looking forward to reading. She planned to take it easy.
Before heading to her suite, she detoured by Cole’s office to leave his message. As she placed it on his desk, she noticed a stack of handwritten pages with a sheet across the front that said “Transcribe.” There were several files, and they looked as if they’d needed transcribing for a while.
After casting a guilty glance over her shoulder, she thumbed through them. Cole had messy handwriting, but she’d always been able to read it. From the looks of things, he was working on a couple of cases. He probably couldn’t find the time to transcribe anything.
She flipped on his computer and waited for it to boot. The bills could wait, as could her book. She would type for a couple of hours and then be out of his office before he even knew she’d been here. Cole might suspect who had helped him out, but he was unlikely to confront her about her extra work. At least she could feel that she was doing something to help him. It didn’t make up for their past, but it might help straighten out their present.
* * *
It was nearly seven-thirty when Cole returned to his office. He could see light spilling out into the corridor. Hadn’t he closed the door when he’d left that morning? Not that it mattered. Everything confidential was kept in locked files.
As he turned into the room, he heard the sound of someone typing on his computer keyboard. Just inside the office he came to a stop.
When Elissa hadn’t shown up for dinner, he’d assumed she’d used her time off to go into town. He’d fought against the need to hunt her down and find out what she was doing. From the looks of things, she’d been here most of the afternoon.
He battled a rush of pleasure. He wasn’t sure if it was from just looking at her, or from knowing she hadn’t left the orphanage. Either reaction was a waste of time. Yet telling himself that didn’t stop the contentment from soothing the ache inside.
The Secret Wife Page 9
