She’d been back a week. The work was welcome. A lifesaver, really. Depression had dogged her like a bad smell for far too long. She needed to get over it, once and for all.
Thinking about the baby was still too painful, so Cammie pushed those thoughts aside by indulging in work. She pushed furniture around and fussed with pillows, then she snatched up her script and forced a concentration she didn’t feel.
She refused to think about Tyler, too. She was ashamed at the way she’d treated him, but his coldness and accusations had hurt so much, she’d wondered if she would ever be able to take a breath without the resulting pain in her heart. Susannah said he thought she blamed him for losing the baby. Cammie almost called to explain the fallacy of that theory, but Ty beat her to the punch, leaving a series of messages on her phone which were worded so cautiously that she didn’t know what to think. It was as if he were afraid to say what he was really thinking, really feeling. Not that she blamed him; she’d pushed him so far away that she knew he wondered what her feelings were.
A darn good question. Oh, she loved him still. She probably always would. But it couldn’t be that she was his support and he was never hers. She needed a partner, someone who lifted her up when she was down, someone who listened and consoled and understood.
She didn’t need someone whose trust in others was so low that her own motives were always questioned.
A muffled brrrinnng sounded. Her cell phone. Inside her purse. Momentarily she debated not answering it. She needed to keep her mind on her script, if possible, and she was afraid her concentration would be shattered—especially if the caller turned out to be Ty. She just wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.
But curiosity won. “Hello?” she asked tentatively.
“Hey, hon.” Susannah’s voice sounded fuzzy and distant. “I’ve got some—uh—interesting news for you.”
“Uh huh?”
“It’s about Mr. Stovall, the younger. He’s—” The line crackled and spit noise in her ear. Cammie pulled the phone away for a second, then came back to hear Susannah fade in and out with, “…didn’t believe it would happen. He’s…against my advice…thought you should know… television…only four episodes…initial meeting today… can you believe it? Your brother!”
“Susannah? Susannah, I can’t hear you! Call back.” Cammie hung up the phone, then stared at it, willing it to ring. It gave one abortive buzz. She snatched it up, but there was no one there.
A knock on her door. “You’re wanted on the set.”
Frustrated, and oddly unnerved, Cammie wondered what the heck Susannah had meant about “Mr. Stovall, the younger” in relation to being her brother. She sure didn’t think of him that way at all, and she was pretty certain the rest of the world didn’t, either!
Grabbing her script, she headed through the door to the narrow hallway which led to Cherry Blossom Lane’s sound stage. Hurrying, afraid she was already late, she rounded a corner—and came up against a very male chest.
“Sorry,” she murmured, then gasped as all her senses registered at once: her ears hearing the tenor of familiar breathing; her nose smelling a musky, masculine scent that sent memory thrumming up the nerves to her brain; her fingers recognizing firm, hard flesh of a man’s immovable chest; her eyes, as they lifted upward, soaking in Ty’s beloved features like a drowning woman: the devilish arch of his brows, his straight nose, the brackets beside his mouth which varied from discontentment to amusement depending on his mood. And his mood was good right now, she realized, her heart beating a little quicker at the sexy flash of white of his smile.
“Ty,” she breathed, afraid to let go, afraid not to.
“Cammie,” he beseeched, when she would have pulled away. “Wait. Please let me have a moment. Just let me say what I need to say.”
“I’m—I’m late,” she stammered, although every part of her wanted to beg her own forgiveness.
“Two minutes.”
His hands dropped gently to her shoulders and his gray eyes gazed deeply into her azure ones. Shuddering all over, Cammie silently cursed her weakness, but she was powerless to do more than stare back, her eyes so starved for the sight of him that she could scarcely concentrate.
“How—how did you get in here?” she asked before he could speak. “It practically takes an act of God for anyone’s family to show up on the set. Our director’s a complete dictator, and he doesn’t bend for anyone. Well, except maybe a Stovall, apparently. Still, he tossed out John Cavendish once, and he’s got his own series and a string of successful—”
“Shhhh.” He placed a finger over her babbling lips. Cammie hushed instantly, undone by the feel of his flesh against her mouth. “They want me to do a guest shot. Four episodes playing the part of your character’s brother. I haven’t said yes, because I didn’t know how you’d feel.”
“A guest shot?” she said dazedly. So that was what Susannah had been trying to tell her.
“Cammie, I love you,” he said urgently. “I want to be with you. I confess I used this opportunity to see you. I need you,” he stressed. “Please…please…”
“Oh, Ty…”
Hearing her tacit capitulation, his strong arms gathered her close to his chest. She could feel the hard thump of his heart. “My God, I was so scared you would turn away. I’m so sorry for being cruel. I wouldn’t let myself believe in you.”
“I’m sorry for being too sensitive,” Cammie whispered, her voice threaded with tears.
“No, it’s not your fault. Darling, we both got caught up in our worst fears.” He lifted her chin to gaze into her tear-starred eyes. Her tremulous smile touched his soul. “Never again. We’re going to get married. Right away. We’re going to tell each other everything and face every problem. I’m never letting you get away from me again!”
She laughed through a sheen of tears. “And we’re going to be ‘brother and sister’ on Cherry Blossom Lane?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I want to be with you every minute. Every minute,” she repeated.
He nodded in joyous agreement. “Cammie, I’d like to go with you the next time you visit Dr. Crawley and see what our options are,” Tyler added, stepping into the fire. “I want what you want, and if there’s any way we can have children, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Her breath caught. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Together, anything’s possible,” Ty whispered urgently. “Have a little faith, my love. We’ll work it all out together.”
And then he kissed her, hard, sealing the deal, and Cammie’s heart felt as if it would burst with joy. “Together,” she whispered.
“Together…”
“Ty?”
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t ever leave me. I—I know I’ve pulled away, but it was just that I was hurt and scared.”
“I will never leave you,” he assured her tenderly.
And Cammie believed in him thoroughly, sensing his total commitment in the power of his strength, the conviction of his voice, the gentle love in his tone. Maybe they could have everything, she dared to finally hope. Maybe someday soon.
EPILOGUE
“Push hard, Cammie,” Dr. Crawley ordered suddenly. “Now!”
Cammie squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced, straining with all her might. She counted to seven before the urge dissipated and she lay gasping for breath, her hands clutched around the edge of the table.
Ty stood behind her head where she could view his eyes, upside down from hers, gazing at her lovingly from behind his green mask.
“I love you,” she mouthed, too tired to project her voice.
She could scarcely believe they’d made it to this point. There had been talk of surgery, several chin-stroking sessions about the condition of her endometriosis, lots of conjecture and worry, then, lo and behold, another positive pregnancy test! Fear had been her first reaction. Contained joy, her second.
But from the get-go, Ty had been upbeat and supporti
ve. “I believe it will happen this time,” he told her.
“You’re giving me lip service,” she’d argued, closing her ears to her husband’s encouragement, afraid to listen and hope for the impossible.
Ty had gently shaken his head. Smiling at the woman he loved, he assured her, “No, it’s faith. Pure and simple.”
She’d been too frightened to believe. She’d carried on with her role as Donna Jenkins as if nothing were different. She told no one, not even Susannah, of the possibility.
And in the end, Ty’s trust and faith had proved right! For now, here she was in her twenty-seventh hour of labor of a very normal—almost boringly so!—full-term pregnancy.
Oh, little Jeremy was a bit premature, but the Caesarian everyone had predicted had not been necessary. Cammie had held on to her baby with a mixture of faith and love, and now, while her husband lifted her shoulders and the doctor ordered her to bear down, Cammie listened to the fast rhythm of her heartbeat and thanked the heavens above for this beautiful miracle.
“Here he comes!” Dr. Crawley reported happily.
Cammie had been given a local anesthetic, but she could still feel the pressure of Jeremy’s emerging head.
“He’s beautiful,” Dr. Crawley said, causing tears to stand in Cammie’s eyes. “Give me one more push for the shoulders.”
A baby’s wail suddenly pierced the breath-held silence. Cammie’s eyes shot to her husband’s, which were suspiciously damp and transfixed on the slippery little body in Dr. Crawley’s grasp. Cammie followed his gaze.
“Ty…” she whispered brokenly.
He kissed her on the lips, through the mask, upside down, his gaze tender and filled with love and rapture. Cammie gulped, moved at her husband’s emotion.
Her husband! Her son!
Her family.
“I love you,” he told her. “Both of you.”
Reaching upward, she held his strong shoulders, loving the scent of him, the touch of his beard-roughened cheek against hers. In the end, her every wish had been granted.
Someday was today.
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eISBN 978-1-4201-2760-7
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Copyright © 1999 by Janelle Taylor
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First Printing: January, 1999
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Table of Contents
Cover Page
A DREAM COME TRUE
Other books by
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
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Someday Soon Page 38
