Damon could afford them.
She sighed. Marrying Damon for his money was not an option.
Unbidden, a vision of the ring he had given her flashed across her mind. It was only when she’d arrived home last night that she realized the ring was still on her finger. Tanner had seen her staring at it, and while the other children scrambled out of the backseat, he stayed in his place in the front.
“So Belle gave you the ring,” he’d said.
Mickelle had felt herself flush. “Yes, I forgot I had it. I should have given it back to your father.”
“Why? He bought it for you.”
“Because I can’t marry him.”
Tanner’s face became solemn. “Because of us?”
“Goodness, no!” Mickelle touched him lightly on the arm. “Tanner, you’re an impressive young man, and I’m glad my boys have you to look up to. And Belle, well, she’s the daughter I never had. The reason I can’t marry your father is between him and me. You and I will always be friends.”
He gazed at her for a long moment. “I don’t think it’s between him at all,” he said slowly. “He wants to be with you.” He pushed open the door and climbed out of the car before adding, “But I’m glad we’re still friends.”
Noise from the television brought Mickelle back to the present. She’d arrived in the basement family room, where all four children stared at the blaring set with a rapt expression, even Tanner, who claimed to be too old for cartoons. Bryan, Belle, and Tanner sat on the long couch, the only furniture in the room besides the TV set. Belle lay with her head against her brother’s arm, clutching her brown teddy bear that Mickelle had retrieved along with pajamas and a change of clothes from their house the night before. Jeremy sprawled on the floor, a few Star Wars action figures forgotten in his hands.
“Hi kids,” she said brightly. The only one who noticed her was Tanner. He nudged Belle, and the little girl jumped off the couch to hug Mickelle.
“I like those pajamas.” Belle ran her small hand over the dark blue velour of Mickelle’s outfit. “It’s soft and snugly.”
“They’re warm,” Mickelle said. She’d purchased the loungewear only last week on clearance at Shopko because it was comfortable enough to wear to bed, but modest enough in case she was still wearing them when Damon came in to drop off Belle in the mornings. She’d even seen women wearing similar velour outfits in the nice restaurants where Damon had taken them to eat.
Belle’s eyes wandered back to the TV as she sank to the carpet next to Jeremy.
“I’m making breakfast,” Mickelle announced loudly, “and then Uncle Jesse’s coming to get Tanner and Belle.” At the mention of food, her sons glanced up.
“Can we have pancakes?” Jeremy asked.
“I think I can manage that.”
Bryan regarded her for a moment without speaking before letting his attention drift back to the TV. His color had returned to normal today, but his eyes seemed haunted.
Sighing, Mickelle trooped back up the stairs. She hated the television set, and in the past month had stopped allowing the children to watch it except for Saturday-morning cartoons and an hour or so on Friday or Saturday nights. Riley would never have permitted her to limit their viewing, but she was glad she had. The boys’ grades were higher than they’d ever been and their chores were getting done.
I wonder if Riley would at least approve of the results, she wondered. The thought was recurrent. Many times she would ponder what her husband would have thought about this or that; more often than not, she didn’t know. For the life of her, she couldn’t say why it even mattered. How long would it be until she didn’t wonder? The funny thing was that she knew exactly how Damon would react, what he would say about children and television, but not what the man to whom she had been married for over fourteen years would say.
Pushing the thought aside, Mickelle began mixing her pancake batter.
She’d finished cooking the first stack of pancakes when the doorbell rang. “Kids!” she yelled down the stairs. “Come up and eat fast! Uncle Jesse’s here to pick up Belle and Tanner. Hurry kids, your dad’s waiting at the hospital!”
She paused at the top of the stairs until she heard the blare of the TV fall silent. The children came tromping up the stairs, still in their pajamas. “Oh well, Jesse will have to wait,” she muttered.
“He can eat some pancakes,” Jeremy suggested.
With the spatula in hand, she went down the narrow hall that bordered the living room, forming a tiny entryway. Once, the door had opened directly onto the living room, but some previous owner had added a short wall between the door and the living room, making a small but adequate entryway. She enjoyed the added privacy, although it made the living room somewhat small.
The smile froze on her face when she opened the door and saw Damon, dressed in black pants and a gray and black long-sleeved polo that emphasized his yellow hair. She stared, drinking in his presence, happy to see that besides being slightly pasty, he appeared all right. “But you’re . . . how . . . ?”
He smiled easily, his eyes roaming over her face, traveling the length of her lounge outfit. Suddenly she was sure the pants were too tight and revealing, though the shirt was decidedly a little large. Why hadn’t she asked who was at the door before opening? She vowed to have a peephole installed as soon as she could afford it.
“I threatened them with unlawful confinement if they didn’t let me out,” Damon explained, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Actually, I feel pretty good. They wanted me to wait for someone to pick me up, but I called a taxi.”
“Well, come on in,” Mickelle invited, waving the spatula. “You should sit down. The kids were going to eat breakfast, but they can go with you now. I’m sure they won’t miss my pancakes.”
“Blueberry?” Damon asked, stepping into the entryway next to her where it was suddenly more cramped than it had been before. “I wouldn’t want to deprive them of that. Belle talks a lot about your pancakes. Maybe I could ask my taxi driver to wait. I was going home first to get my car, and then come for the kids, but I figured I’m not quite up to driving.”
“Taxi . . .?” She stared over his shoulder where the taxi waited at the curb. “Goodness, let’s just pay the man off. I can take you home.” She could have kicked herself as her instinctive frugality tumbled from her lips.
He gave a self-deprecating smile. “The problem is I don’t have any cash on me. I don’t usually carry it in my swimming trunks, and Jesse brought me clothes last night, but not my wallet. I told the guy I’d pay him when I got home.”
Mickelle didn’t hide her exasperation. “If you had just stayed put at the hospital you wouldn’t be having this problem. Jesse was coming to pick you up.”
“Jesse? Not you?”
She didn’t answer his question but handed him the spatula and pushed him toward the kitchen. “Go sit down while I talk to the taxi driver.” Grabbing her purse from the hall closet, Mickelle sped out the door, down the cement stairs on her tiny porch, and out to the curb.
“He’ll be staying here,” she told the man. “How much does he owe you?”
Mickelle paid the driver and walked slowly back to the house, her anger growing. How dare he come here when she hadn’t asked him! How dare he be so handsome and nice? Not to mention terribly rich, and the father of two great kids. Would he demand an explanation of her refusal of his proposal? What could she say when she didn’t understand it herself?
She was halfway up the stairs before the attack hit, abruptly and without warning. She slumped to the middle stair, clutching her chest and closing her eyes tight against the terror. Her heart pounded as though she were running at full speed.
Damon’s fault! she told herself silently. His fault, his fault. She clung to the words as though they were the only thing keeping her afloat in an ocean of fear.
The next thing she knew, comforting arms had encircled her. For a moment she resisted before finally relaxing against his chest.
D
amon made a noise in his throat. “I’m sorry, Mickelle. I know yesterday wasn’t easy for you, but it’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you. Understand? I don’t want more than you’re willing to give.” He gently wiped the tears from her face.
She didn’t reply, but after a time her trembling gradually ceased. She became conscious of his closeness: the aroma of his aftershave, the familiar scent of his body that was his alone, the strength and warmth of his embrace. For a moment all was right with her world. He wasn’t questioning her motives, or demanding anything. This she could deal with.
Then why the lurking feeling of disappointment?
Taking a deep breath, Mickelle straightened and his arms released her. “Thank you,” she said, not meeting his gaze.
His hand reached to touch her chin, as though to force her to look at him, then paused as he reconsidered. Finally, he let it drop. “You’re welcome.”
“The pancakes . . .” Mickelle bolted to her feet, still feeling faint.
“Whoa, careful. Tanner’s taking care of them. Don’t worry about it. We’ve made pancakes a time or two at our house. He can handle it.”
Sure enough, at the kitchen table everyone was eating happily, except Tanner who was at the stove with Mickelle’s spatula. Belle laughed when she saw Mickelle. “Tanner makes pancakes almost as good as you.”
“They are hers,” Tanner inserted.
“No they aren’t. You’re making them!”
Tanner rolled his eyes, while Damon laughed. Mickelle felt the smile return to her own face. No pressure here.
“Does this mean we can go swimming today?” Jeremy said to Damon.
Mickelle tensed but Damon didn’t even hesitate before replying. “Not today, Jeremy. I’m not up to facing water again so soon.”
“It’s like a horse,” Jeremy insisted. “You have to get right back on.”
“I will. I will. But not today.”
“I’m going to get a horse,” Belle announced. “Well, not right now, but in a month or two. Daddy says I’ve been responsible about telling people where I’m going, so I’m not grounded from having a horse anymore.”
“Almost not grounded,” Damon corrected. “I must be quite convinced.”
Belle’s lower lip protruded becomingly, but she didn’t argue the discrepancy. That only told Mickelle she was growing up.
In the first few weeks of school Belle had twice gone somewhere after class without telling her father, solely for the purpose of upsetting his dating schedule. But that had been before Mickelle had become her sitter, and Belle had been a perfect angel since. She even encouraged Mickelle to go out with her father.
Breakfast was nearly over when Jesse arrived on Mickelle’s doorstep. His short, dark hair was ruffled and his brown eyes worried. “I called the hospital, but they said Damon already checked out—alone.”
“He’s here,” Mickelle said sheepishly. “He took a taxi, if you can believe it. I’m sorry, I should have called.”
Damon appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking unquestionably tired. “Hey, Jesse, I thought I heard your voice. Mickelle told me you were going to pick me up. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you up on that. The kids and I have imposed on Mickelle enough for one day.”
Mickelle wanted to say it wasn’t an imposition, but found it difficult to think coherently with Damon’s amber-brown eyes staring at her. Besides, it was an imposition. She wouldn’t have experienced another panic attack if he’d stayed where he belonged.
“To tell you the truth, I am kind of tired,” Damon continued. “I might not be in on Monday after all.”
“Just so’s you’re still here.” Jesse clapped Damon on the back. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Me, too.” Damon raised his voice. “Kids, let’s get going.”
“But I’m still in my pjs,” Belle protested.
“So? You can change when you get home.”
Belle gave her father a disgusted stare, but she obediently picked up her bear and the little pink overnight bag she had brought from home. She grinned at Mickelle. “Bye. I’ll see you on Monday!”
“I’ll see you.” Mickelle turned to Tanner. “You, too. I’ll try to be on time when I pick you up from school.” Belle attended first grade at Forbes Elementary in American Fork with Jesse and Brionney’s daughter, but Tanner attended high school in Highland, close to where the Wolfe family lived. He took the bus there each morning after Damon left for Mickelle’s with Belle, and then Mickelle picked him up after school. This schedule would only last for a few more months until he received his driver’s license. After the accident where he had slammed into Mickelle’s car, the juvenile judge had threatened to delay his driving by as much as a year, but when Tanner had fixed Mickelle’s car himself, the judge had lessened his sentence to three months. Since he turned sixteen in November, that meant he would be behind the wheel in February.
Jesse, Tanner, and Belle filtered out the door, with Damon bringing up the rear. Bryan and Jeremy yelled goodbye from the kitchen, where they were still downing blueberry pancakes.
From her porch, Mickelle watched Damon leave, his body moving much slower than usual. She hoped he went right home to bed, and she made a mental note to ask Brionney to check up on him. Then she remembered the ring.
“Oh, wait!”
He looked up from the front walk expectantly, almost eagerly. “Yes?”
“You, uh, forgot something. I’ll go get it.” She turned to go back inside, glad to free herself from his intent gaze.
“I can get it Monday.” His voice was soft and his face strained with weariness.
“It’s the ring,” she blurted.
A smile came to his lips, hovering as though unsure whether or not it would stay. “I was wondering if Belle lost it.” He didn’t sound as though that was important.
“It belongs in a safe,” she replied a little sharply.
He looked at her for a long moment. “No, Mickelle, it belongs with you . . . like my heart.”
“I don’t . . . I can’t . . . yesterday . . .”
“Keep it.” His smile grew bigger, and his eyes twinkled. “You’re going to wear it someday anyway.”
“What!” She didn’t know whether to be touched or angry at his audacity. The latter seemed the safest, and she might as well choose it. “I told you how I felt yesterday.”
He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. And your beautiful eyes didn’t agree with what little your equally beautiful mouth did say.”
Okay, now I’m really angry! Of course, it was hard to be angry at a man who said you had a beautiful mouth and beautiful eyes. She glared at him anyway, but he turned on his heel and strode toward Jesse’s truck where the others were waiting.
Mickelle watched them drive away, her heart beating erratically. This time it didn’t have anything to do with a panic attack.
“Who does he think he is?” she said aloud. “He is so annoying.”
Intent on her thoughts, she didn’t hear Jeremy open the door behind her until he spoke. “Mom, Brenda’s on the phone. I told her you were outside, but she says she just has to talk to you.” He thrust the phone into her hand.
Mickelle lifted it to her ear and spoke. “Hi.”
“Hi? That’s all you have to say? Tonight’s the night, don’t you remember? I’m so excited that you’re finally going.”
Mickelle didn’t know what her friend was talking about. “Uh, tonight might not be good,” she stalled.
“What? But you told me you’d go! I simply can’t go alone—that looks too needy. Of course I am needy, but I don’t want them to know that—if there’s anyone to impress in the first place, which I’m hoping there will be. You simply have to go!”
Now Mickelle remembered—faintly—what she’d promised. Brenda, a new church member and also a divorced, single mother of four daughters, had asked her to attend a single adult activity nearly three weeks ago. A dance, to be exact. Mickelle had planned to inv
ite Damon, but yesterday’s events had driven the thought from her mind. There was no way she could ask him now.
“I can’t go,” she said flatly.
“But you said you would,” Brenda wailed. “I got a baby-sitter and everything. Besides, I hear there are some new men, and it would be nice to meet them before they’re married.”
“I don’t want to get married.”
“No, but I do. Not everyone has a handsome millionaire widower wooing her. Is it him? Is he why you won’t go tonight?”
“Damon and I are just friends.”
“That’s not what you said last time. But if he’s not a keeper, you may as well toss him back into the pot for the rest of us to fight over.”
Mickelle was silent a moment, not at all appreciating this mental picture. The truth was that she and Damon were more than friends, and had been since a week after they had met. But all that was over now, especially since he was so infuriatingly sure of himself.
I’ll show him! “I’ll go,” Mickelle said.
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Brenda gushed. “My future children thank you.”
“Future children? You’ve already got four. How many do you want?”
“At least three or four more. I love kids.”
And she did. Brenda was one of the most attentive and thorough mothers Mickelle had ever known. When her husband had begun stepping out on her and refused joint counseling, she’d finally gained the courage to leave him. She confessed to Mickelle that she’d done it for the children. “I couldn’t allow them to think his behavior was appropriate,” she said. “I didn’t want my daughters to endure what I’ve endured.”
Now, two years after her divorce, Brenda was happier than she’d been in her entire life. She worked as a general building contractor and provided for her daughters better than her husband with his fancy corporate job ever had. But she was still searching for the perfect eternal mate. “I’m going to be darned sure he’s the right man this time,” she’d assured Mickelle. “And he’d better love children.”
Mickelle had also once entertained the thought of having more children, possibly with Damon. But now . . . She forced her thoughts back to her friend.
Bridge to Forever Page 4
