“Well, yeah.” He rubs his jaw and shrugs. “I guess I did. I have to be at work in the morning. I already took today off.”
“Uh . . . wow.” I sit forward and put my head in my hands. “I didn’t think this through. I just heard Maysie’s voice and you . . . you made the final decision.” I lift my chin to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave.”
His shoulders sag and he looks away for a moment. “I knew that. I guess I was just hoping you’d choose me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
I can’t believe this is happening. I scoot back my chair and walk to the long window at the end of the kitchen and stare at the dark woods until I can form a coherent thought. Then I find the courage I need to face my husband. “I’ve already chosen you. Or did last night mean nothing to you?”
“Are you kidding me?” He widens his eyes, clamps his jaw, and looks away.
How is it that we’ve already forgotten how to talk to each other?
“Can’t you bring Adam up here for the weekend?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule.”
Anger creeps in and takes over. And suddenly I can’t take a minute more.
I brush past him and head to the living room where I sink onto the couch, grab a soft cushion, and bury my head in it.
A few minutes later he’s there beside me, brushing hair off my face, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “I’m sorry. Savannah? Sweetheart, sit up a minute.”
A shuddering sigh escapes, but I push myself up and catch the sadness in his eyes. Kevin wipes my tears and pulls me in for a kiss.
“You didn’t deserve any of that. Really. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I brush my hand across his cheek, worried by the harried look in his eyes. “What’s really going on?”
He leans his head against the cushions and exhales in a noisy groan. “I got an email earlier this afternoon. While you were in with Brock.”
“From?” I don’t like the sound of this. Don’t like it one bit.
“My boss. Uh . . .” Kevin drags a hand down his face and swears. “It seems that Alison has applied for a position in the company. She’d be working in my division. And she put me down as a reference.”
I blink through the silence and process this news. “I thought she was in California.”
“I guess it hasn’t worked out there.”
What I really want to say probably wouldn’t go over well, so I shove those words down and find a thin smile. “Well. That’s. Interesting.”
“Savannah.”
I slap his hand away and jump to my feet. “No. Just. No.”
Terrible thoughts swirl around my mind and drag me down. It’s starting all over again and I can’t stand it. And just when I thought it was safe to unlock the chains around my heart.
“I haven’t responded,” Kevin says quietly. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, that’s big of you. I actually factor in this equation?” Oh, God, help. The biting sarcasm slips off my tongue without permission.
Kevin moves before I can leave the room. He stands in front of me, grabs hold of my arms, and locks his desperate gaze on mine. “Will you stop? Savannah . . . stop! Look at what we’re doing to each other already. We can’t get sucked in again. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see what this is? We’ve come too far to turn back now.”
“What are you going to do?” I can barely whisper the words. “You can’t . . . She can’t . . .”
“I know.” He leans in, folds me into him, and hangs on. “I need this job, though. I—”
“I have money. It’s always been there. You know—”
“Yes.” Kevin sighs deep and steps back. “And you know how I feel about that. Working for your father was one thing. I had to earn that position and I worked hard for it. But I’m not touching your trust fund. That’s for you. For the kids. Not me.”
Desperation claws at me. I imagine the next few months like a bad soap opera, my husband coming home one dark, stormy night and telling me he’s really still in love with his mistress. That we’re truly not meant for each other and it’s just not going to work.
“I’ll figure it out. Savannah, this doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“It what?” I take two steps backward and put a fist to my mouth.
“You did not just say that.” He gives me a blank stare that stirs my anger further. “Kevin. Get real. You can’t work with her. You can’t be around her. Not if you want this reconciliation to work. Not if you want our marriage back.”
“And what if I said you can’t be around Brock? What if he has that operation and he’s fine? You can’t stand there and tell me the man is not in love with you, because I’m not that stupid. So what then, Savannah?”
“I never slept with Brock. There’s a big difference. You lived with that woman.”
Suddenly the past is right there with us again.
Jeering, taunting, and unpacking its bags.
And I have no idea how to make it leave.
Kevin utters a low curse. “I know what I did. You don’t need to keep throwing it in my face.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” I gasp for air and suddenly feel light-headed. “I’m trying to make you understand . . . Oh . . .” The truth dawns on me like somebody just flicked on the lights after an extended loss of electricity. “She wants you back. Doesn’t she?”
“Whether she does or not is irrelevant. I don’t want her.” Kevin steps toward me, his face lined with stress, cheeks pinking and moisture shining in his eyes. “I swear to you, Savannah, I’ve had nothing to do with her since I ended things. This came out of left field. You can look through my cell phone, my computer, whatever you need to see.” Kevin closes the gap between us and takes my face between his hands.
“Ever since Christmas all I’ve been able to think about is how empty my life was without you in it. I didn’t count on us getting back together, but I prayed for it. Prayed for it like I’ve never prayed for anything, except Shelby. But this time I felt like God heard me, took pity on me. Like he forgave me and really does want the best for me, for us. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that we’ve been given a second chance. And I won’t let anyone take that from us.”
“Okay.” I hear him. And I believe him. My vision blurs, but I smile anyway. “We’re on the same page there. I’m not letting you go again, Kevin Barrington. Not without a fight. You’ve been warned.”
“Yeah?” He grins and rubs his nose against mine.
“Yeah.” I breathe out the stress of the last few hours and melt into his embrace. “I think I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“You did.” He tips my chin and brushes his lips with mine. Tenderly at first, but the kiss becomes suggestive in minutes. “So . . . I could stay the night. Leave early.”
“You could.” I wrap my arms around him and meet his lips with a long, lingering kiss that conveys how I feel about that idea. “You’re going to wear me out, husband.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought we could just, you know, watch the stars. Or something.”
“Or something?”
“Or something.”
I grin wide and shriek when he scoops me up into his arms and heads toward the stairs. If he keeps doing this, he’s going to put his back out. But I’ll let him this last time.
It’s before dawn when he leaves the bed. I stretch and yawn and try to force my brain awake. After he kisses me good-bye, I come to my senses, jump out of bed, stop at the dresser, and scurry down the stairs after him.
“Kev! Wait!”
He’s pulling on his coat, turns and flashes the grin I know I’ll never get enough of. “Good gravy, woman. Put some clothes on or I’ll never get out of here.”
I’m only wearing my thin nightgown, and it’s cold down here, but I don’t care. I fumble with the rings I’m holding in my hand and open my palm. “You forgot something.”
&
nbsp; He exhales, smiles, and stares at me awhile without words. “I did, didn’t I?”
Silently I take my husband’s hand and slip his wedding band back on his finger.
Back where it belongs.
And then I give him my rings.
And he’s crying a little as he gingerly takes my trembling hand in his and puts them back in place.
I put my arms around him and hold tight. Like it might be for the last time.
“Hey.” Kevin sniffs, moves hair out of my wet eyes, and smiles. “I know what I’m asking, but trust me, okay?”
“I do. I will.” I nod, press my lips to his again, and wish he didn’t have to go. “You do the same.”
“I will.”
“I love you.” I brush his hair back, stretch up to kiss him once more, and then step back, shivering in the cold morning air.
“You are my world, Savannah. I’ll never forget that again. And I’ll make sure you know it every day for as long as I have breath.” Kevin hesitates a moment, pulls me back into his warm embrace, and claims my lips again. When he’s finally done, I’m not so cold.
“I’ll call you later,” he says as he reaches for his bag. “Charge your cell.”
“I’ll do that right now.”
“See you on the weekend. I’ll let you know what time.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I watch him drive off on that snowy Tuesday morning and I wonder whether we truly will survive this. Because I know now that nothing worth having comes easy. There will always be another obstacle. Another hurdle. One more roadblock on the way to peace.
But perhaps this time will be different. This time we’re in it together. And we’re determined to fight for what we want.
To claim what was meant for us all along.
As Kevin’s car disappears down the drive, I catch a glimpse of the small figure standing in the snow. My breath hitches, but I stay there in the moment, real or not. Our eyes meet for a split second and we share a smile. Then she lifts a hand, waves, and skips away.
And this time I know it is not Maysie.
CHAPTER 31
“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—a time to give birth and a time to die.”
—ECCLESIASTES 3:1–2 NASB
So this was what dying felt like.
Brock leaned on Mitch and walked the four steps to the front door. Four steps that felt like fifty. He wanted to pass out right there on the stoop, but Mitch propped him up, casting a cautious glance his way, and Brock grimaced. “I’m not gonna drop dead in your arms, bro. Chill out.”
Maysie skipped beside them while Clarice went ahead into the house and made sure there were no obstacles for him to fall over. Another crack on the head would probably do him in at this point. Although the way he felt today, the idea held some merit. Everything ached. He’d pop pills for the pain. But it was the hurt in his heart he didn’t know what to do with. No quick fix for that.
Over the course of his hospital stay, they’d converted the living room into a makeshift bedroom for him, complete with hospital bed.
“Gimme a break,” Brock muttered as soon as he saw it, then allowed Mitch to help him ease out of his coat. They should have settled in Florida. Then he could have passed away peacefully on a sunny beach, surrounded by beautiful bikini-clad women.
“Let’s get you into that bed. Man, I could use a nap too.” Mitch was trying his best. Trying to sound upbeat, like his only brother wasn’t about to pop off at any given moment, but Brock heard the strain in his voice.
He waved a hand and moved toward the couch. “Grab me some pillows. I’ll lie here for a bit.”
“Hallo, Brock, hallo, Brock!” Martin squawked and Maysie giggled and ran for pillows. Soon he was tucked in, stuffed animals surrounding him, with Maysie on a stool by his side and Clarice and Mitch hovering like overeager servants waiting to do his bidding.
“I’m sure y’all have things to do,” he growled.
“Yeah. I do.” Mitch ran a hand over his hair. “I need to call your doctor again and make sure he’s gonna be on that plane tomorrow.”
Brock bit back a curse and glowered at his brother. But there was no arguing. Mitch had already made the arrangements. And Brock knew by the time Dr. Reece Radcliff left the Berkshires, one way or another he’d be scheduled to have his skull split open.
After the last week of horrendous pain that pretty much sucked the life out of him, he wasn’t sure why he’d been so stubborn about it. But dying didn’t scare him.
Not dying did.
What if something went wrong? What if he lived but he couldn’t talk or walk or never emerged from the comatose state they’d put him in?
There were a million what-ifs.
Like the stars in the sky Savannah liked to watch.
Brock turned his head and locked his gaze on Maysie’s worried face. She was just a kid. She didn’t deserve this.
“Want to go get your puppy? What’d you name him again? I can’t remember.”
“Watson.” Her eyes lit but veered toward Clarice. “Am I allowed?”
“You are allowed.” Clarice held out a hand for Maysie. “But in a little while. Let Daddy rest and we’ll come back in a bit.” They left the room and Mitch pulled up a chair.
Brock picked up a teddy bear and stared into beady black eyes.
“HALLO!” Martin squawked again.
Brock startled, dropped the bear, and glared at the bird in the cage across the room. Then he looked at Mitch. “Will you get that thing out of here?”
Mitch snorted. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“I don’t care. Open a window.”
For some reason the very idea sent them both into hysterics.
It felt good to laugh.
Brock sobered quickly and shook his head. He wouldn’t put that past Mitch. “I was kidding. But take the cage out of here when Clarice isn’t looking. He can go in the kitchen until—”
“Until you’re well enough to go back to your room,” Mitch said quietly.
Brock shut his mouth and took a moment to study his brother’s face. “You doing okay?”
Mitch blinked, his nose getting red. He blew air and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. “You’re asking me if I’m doing okay?”
“Well, you’re not exactly living the life these days, little brother. Figured you’d be beating a trail back to the big city by now.”
“I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it.” Mitch tapped the Rolex on his wrist. “Fortunately I’ve been able to handle most things online and through conference calls. Might have to fly out for a few days next week, though. But they’re aware of the situation here, so if I can’t, I can’t.”
“You make me proud, Mitchell.” Brock meant it. Hadn’t had cause to say it often, heaven knew, yet the past few days, Mitch had come through. “But I still don’t think you’re parent material.”
“And thank God for that.” Mitch gave a sudden grin. “I love your kid, but I think she’d agree with you.”
Brock smiled and took a moment to catch his breath. “Have you done what I asked?”
His brother sighed, sat back, and stared at the ceiling for a long, painful moment. “Are you absolutely sure there’s nobody who will crawl out of the woodwork to contest this?”
“I’m sure. You saw the PI report. You talked to him. There’s no one.”
“What if they won’t do it?”
“They will.” Brock reached a trembling hand for a glass of water.
Mitch stood to help, stared down at him, and shook his head. “I don’t suppose I have to tell you I’m not at all happy about this. And I’m hoping beyond hope that it won’t be necessary. But I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses and agreed to the operation.”
“That makes one of us.”
“You agreed to what?” Savannah stood in the doorway, a basket of laundry in her arms. Her eyes widened as her furtive
gaze darted from him to Mitch.
Brock ground out a sigh. He’d forgotten she was in the house. Clarice told him Savannah had spent most of the last three days here, cleaning, cooking, and looking after Maysie. He was beyond grateful. His aunt needed rest. He’d been more than worried about her lately.
“Well, if it isn’t Florence Nightingale.” Mitch grinned and Savannah scowled.
Brock chuckled, the movement hurting his chest. “Knew you two would get along.”
Savannah let out a soft laugh that made him feel better. “That, my friend, is stretching the truth. You must be a writer.” She put down the overflowing basket and walked toward him.
“It’s the Chandler charm. She can’t resist it.” Mitch quirked a brow and put on his I’m-too-sexy-for-myself look. If Brock had the strength, he would have smacked him one.
Savannah shot his brother a venomous glare. “I’m getting a bit tired of you.” Her cheeks flushed with exertion and she looked like she hadn’t slept well for days. Suddenly all he wanted to do was sit her down, pour her a glass of wine, tell her silly stories, and make her laugh until she cried. But he couldn’t even get off the couch.
“Brock? Have you agreed to have the operation?” Her eyes were on him again.
“Only if you’ll agree to run away with him once it’s all over,” Mitch drawled.
Brock couldn’t stop a grin at the scathing look Mitch earned with that remark.
Savannah pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and gave a low whistle. “You don’t know when to quit, do you? Make yourself useful for a change, Mitchell, and take that basket to my car for me.” Clarice’s dryer was broken, he remembered. Mitch had supposedly ordered a new one, but it was anybody’s guess when it would arrive.
Much to Brock’s surprise, his brother obeyed, picked up the basket, and disappeared out the door. Savannah pulled a chair close to the couch and studied him through anxious eyes. “So?”
“I’ll do it.” Brock rolled his eyes at the squeak she let out. “You know it’s a long shot. The odds are not good. In fact, they’re pretty darn awful.”
“I know. I heard the whole spiel from your brother. Optimism is not one of his strong suits.”
Where Hope Begins Page 28
