by Metsy Hingle
Michael reached for Amanda’s hand and squeezed it. “Do you mind that they can’t be here? I know I insisted on getting married next week, but if it’s important to you that your parents be here—”
“It’s not,” she said, touched by his sensitivity. “Knowing you love me is what’s important.”
“I do,” he assured her, kissing her knuckles. The love shone in his eyes.
“When you and Uncle Mike get married, does that mean your mom and dad will be my family, too?” Summer asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said, smiling as she turned her attention back to Summer. “They’ll be your great-aunt and uncle.”
“Oh.” Summer picked up a french fry and dipped it in catsup. “I wish they could be my grandparents. Michelle has grandparents. She gets to stay over at their house sometimes, and they bring her back presents when they go on trips.”
Amanda’s heart twisted at the longing in Summer’s voice. “You know, Summer, my parents have always wanted grandchildren. I bet they would love for you to call them Grandma and Grandpa.”
“That’s a great idea,” Michael added.
Amanda glanced over at Michael, disturbed by how anxious he sounded.
“But they wouldn’t really be my grandparents, would they?”
“No,” Amanda admitted. “But I bet they’d be very happy if you thought of them as though they were. I just know they’re going to love you.”
“If I could find my real grandmother, I bet she would love me, too.”
Michael set down his fork. His face pulled into a frown. “Summer, let’s not start that again.”
“But, Uncle Mike, if I could find my grandmother—”
Michael pushed back his chair and stood. “That’s enough! I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”
Summer folded her arms across her chest. Her head dropped.
Sighing, Michael came around the table and knelt beside his niece. “Honey, your mom made me your guardian because I was her only relative and she entrusted you to me. Maybe someday Amanda and I’ll be lucky and have children. Then you’ll have some cousins. But right now, you’re going to have to settle for us. We’re the only family you’ve got.”
Amanda’s heart ached for them both. If only Michael would relent about Martha. She swallowed and went to crouch next to the child. “We love you, Summer.”
Summer looked up at Amanda, her eyes brimming with tears. “And I love you. Both of you.”
“We want you to be happy, honey,” Michael told her. “Do you think you can be happy with us?”
Summer flung one arm around her uncle’s neck and the other around Amanda’s. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll be happy. I promise.”
Even though the rest of the evening was pleasant enough, the day had lost its sparkle. Amanda tucked Summer into bed and kissed her good-night.
It just wasn’t fair, Amanda thought. No matter what had happened in the past, Summer deserved to at least know she had a grandmother. Somehow she had to convince Michael of that.
“Michael,” she said while cuddled with him a short time later in front of the television.
“Hmm?” He clicked the button on the remote control device, switching the channel to the ten o’clock news.
“I think you’re making a mistake by not telling Summer about Martha.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said dismissively.
“You know that’s not true. What if Summer finds out that her grandmother wanted to see her and you forbade it?”
Michael stiffened. “She won’t find out. No one even knows about her connection to Martha except you and Dave. Dave won’t say anything. And you gave me your word you wouldn’t tell her either.”
“And I won’t. But I think you should.”
Michael removed his arm from around her. “Look, Amanda, I don’t want to argue with you about this.”
Amanda sighed. “Michael, if I didn’t think it was so important, I’d drop it. But you know how much it means to Summer to have a family. You’re not being fair to her.”
“I’m doing what’s best for her. She’d be better off without any relatives than to claim Martha Winthrop as her grandmother.”
“Your hate and bitterness for the Winthrops is making you blind. And foolish. Suppose Martha decides to sue for custody, after all? What if by some chance she should win?” Amanda couldn’t finish, too afraid to put into words the possibility that Martha might keep Summer from them just as Michael was now keeping the child from her.
The muscle in Michael’s jaw ticked wildly. Something flashed in his eyes and then that steely look of determination was back. “Trust me. Martha doesn’t stand a chance of getting custody of Summer.”
His expression was as hard as granite. It was the same look she’d seen the night he’d insisted she marry him. “This war between me and the Winthrops has been going on for a long time, but it’s going to be over soon. And when it is, I promise you, I’m going to be the winner.”
It was there again—that cold confidence. It made her uneasy. “How can you be so sure?”
“I told you, I’m a good strategist. And I have the element of surprise on my side.” Looking into her eyes, Michael eased Amanda down onto the couch and stretched his body over hers. “Now, enough talk about Martha Winthrop. I haven’t had a real kiss in hours.”
Amanda slipped her arms around his neck and as her body responded to his touch, her uneasiness started to fade.
He slipped his hands beneath her blouse and cupped her breasts. “Heaven help me. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the night, let alone the next week without you,” he whispered before lowering his head.
Amanda arched her body toward him as his mouth and hands worked their magic. Soon, Martha Winthrop and custody battles were the last thing on her mind as Amanda lost herself in the pleasure of his love.
* * *
“Hi,” Amanda greeted Summer as she let herself into the house with the key Michael had given her.
“Hi, Aunt Mandy.”
Amanda dropped the boxes of books and photographs she’d brought from her house onto the floor and flopped down onto the couch. “It’s an oven out there,” Amanda complained, wiping beads of perspiration from her brow. As much as she loved New Orleans, the heat and humidity were stifling.
“What’s all that stuff?” Summer asked, already peeking inside the cartons.
“Just a few things I didn’t want to send to storage.” Because of her house’s small size, she and Michael had decided the only sensible thing to do would be for her to move into his house until they could find a place to buy together. “Where’s your uncle?”
“In the study on the phone,” Summer said, flipping through a photo album she’d unearthed from one of the boxes.
“Would you be a sweetheart and put these boxes upstairs for me while I tell him I’m here?”
“Sure.” Picking up one of the lightweight cartons, Summer headed for the stairs.
Amanda moved down the hall, stopping outside Michael’s study. With the door ajar and Michael standing with his back to her, she took a moment to look at the man she loved. She still couldn’t believe in two days’ time they would be husband and wife.
“I know that,” Michael snapped. He shoved a hand through his hair.
Amanda smiled at the familiar gesture, thinking how much she enjoyed running her fingers through that head of dark hair.
“Well, reschedule it, then.” Michael paced the length of his desk. “Dammit, Dave. I’m getting married day after tomorrow and I don’t want this hanging over my head.”
Barely registering his words, Amanda concentrated on how tanned his skin was against the white of his shirt where he’d opened the collar and rolled up his sleeves. She smiled, knowing firsthand that Michael’s tan extended over every inch of him.
“Tomorrow at ten? Hold on. Let me check my schedule.” He turned then and saw her; and the harsh lines of his face softened. “Hi—” he covered the receiver
with one hand “—I’ll be through here in a second.”
“Take your time,” Amanda told him. She leaned against the door.
Michael patted his shirt pocket, then began searching the top of his desk. Frowning, he said, “Hang on a second, Dave. I can’t find the darn thing.”
“What are you looking for?” Amanda asked, coming closer.
“My appointment book.” He glanced around the room. “I must have left it in my coat pocket.”
“Where’s your coat?”
“I think I threw it across the back of the couch when I came in. The book should be in the inside pocket.”
“I’ll get it,” Amanda told him. “Say hello to Dave for me and tell him he’d better not be late Saturday.”
Humming, Amanda returned to the living room. She spotted Michael’s navy jacket immediately. Picking it up, she spread open the coat. A white envelope was sticking out of the pocket.
The marriage license, Amanda thought, and took out the document. She unfolded the paper.
“State of Louisiana. Parish of Orleans.” Amanda scanned the petition.
“In the case of Martha Stallings Winthrop Versus Michael Patrick Grayson, you are hereby ordered to appear in court on the twenty-eighth of June, to determine the custody of Summer Grayson, child of...”
Amanda could feel the color drain from her face. She searched for the date of service. June fourteen. Two days before Michael had asked her to marry him.
She sank to the couch and stared at the Court summons, not wanting to believe what she saw. Blinking back tears, she read through the pleadings. The dry prose set out how eight years earlier a child had been born to Sara Grayson and Phillip Winthrop and had been given the name Summer Grayson. That Phillip Winthrop had died and Sara Grayson had taken the child and left the country. How Sara Grayson was now deceased and that Martha Winthrop wanted custody of her grandchild.
Snatches of conversations came back to her.
Trust me. Martha doesn’t stand a chance of getting custody of Summer.
This war between me and the Winthrops is going to be over soon and I promise you, I’m going to win...
I told you, I’m a good strategist. Besides, I have a secret weapon...
He’d used her. Michael had used her in his battle to retain custody of Summer. She had been his element of surprise in the war with Martha Winthrop. Her hands trembled, her eyes blurred as she looked down at the petition before letting it fall to the floor.
She covered her face with her hands. The signs had been there all along, only she’d been too blinded by her love for him to see it.
“Amanda, did you find it?” Michael called from the doorway.
At the sound of his voice, Amanda snatched up his jacket and dug in the pocket for the appointment book. Brushing back tears, she carried the little black book into his study.
“What took you so long? Did you have trouble finding—” The smile in his eyes died. “Amanda, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
“Here’s your appointment book.” She tossed the book onto the center of his desk. “And since you’ve got your lawyer on the phone, you’d better make sure he’s got June twenty-eighth blocked out on his calendar for the custody hearing.”
Michael paled beneath his tan. “Dave, I’ll call you back.” He hurriedly hung up the phone.
“How silly of me,” Amanda said, feeling slightly hysterical. “Dave already knows, doesn’t he? Everyone knows—except me.”
“Amanda, I can explain.”
“Can you, Michael?” Pain and bitterness drove her. “Can you explain why your marriage proposal came only two days after you found out Martha was suing you for custody of Summer?”
“That had nothing to do with my asking you to marry me.”
“No? And I suppose the fact that you bullied me into setting the wedding only days before you’re due in court had nothing to do with it, either?”
“It didn’t!”
“And all that talk about battles and strategies and secret weapons...” Amanda’s voice broke and she choked back a sob. “I’m your secret weapon, aren’t I, Michael? Aren’t I?”
“No.”
“You planned to use me to beat Martha, didn’t you? That’s why you asked me to marry you.”
“That’s not true! I love you.” He started toward her. “I know how it looks—”
“Don’t touch me!” She held out her hands to keep him at bay. “When were you going to tell me about the lawsuit, Michael? After the ceremony? On our wedding night?”
“That’s not the way it was.”
His expression was thunderous, but still she pushed. “Or maybe you were going to tell me after you’d made love to me, when I was too sated by your lovemaking to care.”
Michael grabbed her by the shoulders. “Stop it, Amanda. Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying.”
She could hear the anger in his voice, see the fury in his eyes as his fingers bit into her arms, but she couldn’t stop. The pain was too great. “Tell me, Michael. Was that the plan? Was that when you were going to convince me to go with you to the courtroom and parade our perfect little family in front of the judge?”
Amanda laughed, but there was no joy in the sound.
Michael dragged her into his arms, crushing her against him. “No!” The word was a sob torn from his throat. “You’re wrong. I love you. The custody suit has nothing to do with us.”
Amanda struggled in his arms. No match against his strength, she finally went limp against him. Now that she’d vented her rage, the tears were threatening again. She needed to get away, to hide and lick her wounds in private. “Let go of me,” she said in a voice as cold as a Boston December.
“Not until you let me explain.”
“I’m not interested in your explanations. I just want to get out of here and forget you, forget that you were ever a part of my life.”
“I won’t let you go.” He held her at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. “I can’t let you go. You are my life. Without you, I have no life. You own my heart, Amanda. Please don’t throw it away.”
He sounded so sincere, looked so crushed, Amanda could feel herself weakening.
“You were right. In the beginning, I guess I did set out to use you. I’d been toying with the idea that if I were married, my chances of keeping Summer would be better.”
He swallowed. “I was already attracted to you and you weren’t exactly indifferent to me. When I saw how much you cared for Summer, how crazy she was about you, I figured, why not? Marrying you seemed like the perfect answer to everything. Everyone would come out ahead. Only it didn’t work out that way.”
Amanda tried to steel herself to the crippling pain his words caused.
“All my plans to make you fall in love with me kept backfiring. I knew you were attracted to me, but you kept turning me down and I couldn’t figure out why. I almost abandoned the idea a dozen times, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
He laughed, the sound hollow and mocking. “I told myself Summer was the reason I couldn’t just walk away from you, but Summer was the last person I was thinking about when we were together. And every time I kissed you, it became harder and harder to let you go.
“That night after we ran into the Winthrops, I knew I’d fallen in love with you. I was going to confess everything to you the night we met at the coffeehouse and tell you how I felt. But then you told me about your ex-husband, how he had used you. I knew if I told you then, I’d lose you for good.”
His eyes were pleading as they met hers. “That night, when you told me to get out of your life, you were so distant, so untouchable afterward. I realized that I didn’t dare tell you the truth—not until I got the custody issue behind me. Otherwise, I knew you’d never believe that I loved you. That it was really you I loved and not what help I thought you might bring to me in a custody hearing.
“Then you showed up here the afternoon of the school fair and I realized I
couldn’t wait that long. I told myself if I could get you to fall in love with me first, when I did tell you the truth, I stood a better chance of you forgiving me.”
Was it possible? Could he truly love her as he claimed? For herself? A ribbon of hope began to unfurl inside her.
“I didn’t mean to rush you. I’d planned for us to become lovers and gradually work up to marriage. But that first night you were so responsive and after you went to sleep in my arms, I knew I couldn’t wait. And I asked you to marry me. But you started talking about having an affair and I got scared. I pushed you. When you said yes...I was afraid you’d change your mind. That’s why I insisted we marry right away.”
“But why didn’t you tell me about the custody suit after I agreed to marry you?”
“For the same reason I didn’t tell you in the first place. The suit had nothing to do with my wanting to marry you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. That you would think that it did. Believe me, Amanda, I never ever intended to ask you to go with me to the hearing.”
“But all that talk about strategy,” Amanda said. “And you sounded so confident that you could win.”
“I had reason to be. Phillip Winthrop isn’t listed as Summer’s father on her birth certificate and Sara had named me guardian in her will.”
“But if that was enough, why were you so worried about the custody suit in the first place?”
“Because I wasn’t sure if that was enough. I didn’t think Martha Winthrop would want the scandal, but I couldn’t be sure. She has a lot of clout in this city and I didn’t trust her not to call in some favors from her friends on the bench.”
“But you’re not afraid of her now?”
“No.” He paused a moment as though struggling with some inner battle. “A couple of weeks ago, I finally got around to going through Sara’s things. I came across a packet of letters she had saved from Phillip. One of them was written after Sara got pregnant. Phillip told her he loved her and knew the right thing for him to do was to break away from his family and marry her. But he was afraid. In the letter, he seemed disgusted with himself because he was so weak. Phillip blamed his parents. His mother mostly—for making him so dependent upon her financially and emotionally. He said he felt like a cripple and that Sara deserved better. The rest of the letter was kind of disjointed, it seemed to ramble, but at the end Phillip said his only consolation was knowing that in deserting Sara he could ensure that his child would never grow up to be a coward like him. Because his child would never live under Martha’s thumb.”
