by JoAnn Durgin
She snorted. “Oh, that’s rich, Marc. You can’t honestly expect me to excuse your past behavior by telling me it somehow prepared you for me.”
Not knowing what else to do, what else to say, he nudged his foot between her boots and leaned as close as humanly possible without toppling her over. They were almost nose-to-nose, but to her credit, she didn’t flinch and stood her ground. “Maybe it did, Natalie. I never had any complaints from you.” Ignoring the warning look in her eyes, he plundered on. “You are my wife. You, Natalie Dianne Combs Thompson, are the only woman I want by my side, facing life together, working together to solve problems and sharing everything. The only woman I want in my bed for the rest of my life. The only one I want to kiss, the only one I want to touch, the only one I want to bear our children. Those are the most important things here. So, deal with it and get over it.”
By the fierceness of his tone, he forced her to look at him. Her eyes canvassed his face, and her soft breath fell on his cheek as she blinked hard. It was enough to distract him, but he had to keep going. “The man standing before you is the same man you fell in love with and married. He has the love of the Lord in His heart, but he didn’t for a long time.” Great. Now he was talking in third person, but he had her undivided attention. “From what I know, Jesus was a forgiving Man. And we’re supposed to forgive others when they sin, especially when they don’t understand what Christ did for them on the cross.” He reached for her hands, surprised when she didn’t struggle out of his grasp. Her eyes met his, another victory. “I’ve seen how kind you are to total strangers, how generous, how loving.” His hold on her hands tightened. “I’m asking you to extend to your husband the same courtesy you’d extend to a complete stranger. Do you think you can do that?”
“I . . . I . . .” she said, lowering her gaze from his. A tear slipped out and made a path down her cheek as she withdrew her hands from his and took a small step backward.
It was do or die. Time for the ultimatum. It worked in business, and he prayed it’d work now. The stakes were totally different, but this was so much more important than any business deal. Maybe it was harsh, but he had to know. “I’m going to give you a choice, Natalie. Either take one step closer to save our marriage, or take one step back and walk away. But if you walk away,” he said, “don’t look back. I’ll fight you for our daughter. If I can’t have you, I want our daughter with me. Always.” He hadn’t planned on saying it, but there it was.
Natalie’s mouth opened and she stared at him, aghast. “I can’t believe you just said that! This isn’t one of your high-powered business deals, Marc. This is our life. Are you willing to just give up everything—give up us?”
He shook his head, his heart heavy. “No, of course, I don’t want that, but you’re making it abundantly clear with your words and your behavior—not to mention your total disregard of my feelings—that you can’t forgive my indiscretions in the past. And, believe you me, I don’t want to live in that kind of self-made purgatory the rest of my natural life. I love you too much—and I have too much self-respect—to stick around watching you hate me for the rest of your life. I sure as anything don’t want to subject our daughter to that kind of hate. I grew up with it, and I can tell you, it’s not pretty. If you want me gone out of your life, so be it. Just tell me, but tell me now. I can pack my things and be out of Montana—and out of your life—tonight.”
Shifting his position, Marc pressed his lips against her cheek. Maybe that was unfair, but he had to know how she’d react. “Just tell me now.” A falling tear landed on his mouth, and he left it there.
“I can’t,” Natalie said, her voice broken, the tears falling in rapid succession. “I’m tired of the tears, tired of the anger. I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. With her finger, she touched his bottom lip, absorbing the moisture from her own tear before cupping his chin with one hand. “I’m not walking away from this marriage . . . and I pray you don’t, either.” She gulped, looking up at him with shining eyes. Avoiding his eyes, she moved back a little. “I hate what you said in the car the other night, but I know it took a lot of courage to tell me. I couldn’t sleep, and kept thinking about all the sweet, wonderful things you’ve done for me since my accident.” Her eyes moved up slowly to meet his. “Marc, there’s a big part of this equation you don’t understand.”
He stepped closer. “Tell me. Help me understand, Natalie, so we can get past this.” He forced his arms to his sides even though he wanted to pull her to him and never let go.
She bit her lower lip, probably in an effort to stem its trembling. Meeting his eyes again, she released a shuddering sigh. “At first, after I saw you with Ashley and then read that note, I thought you’d resumed a relationship with one of your past . . . girlfriends.” She held up her hand when he started to protest. “I realized soon enough that wasn’t the case.” She turned away from his view, her shoulders shaking.
“Natalie? What is it? You can tell me anything.”
“I thought,” she said, choking on her words and sputtering, “I thought I’d failed you. I disappointed you, and you didn’t want me, even though you said you did. This horrible amnesia has stolen away the real me, and I’m only a shell of the woman you fell in love with and married.” Her eyes met his for a brief second before she looked away again. “I’m so confused, and I don’t know if I’ll ever remember who I am, who you are, and who we are together. And that breaks my heart. I hate amnesia, but I know I love you. You’re my husband.”
He swallowed hard. “Answer one question.” She didn’t say anything, waiting, watching. “Does our marriage have a chance?”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. “I don’t think we’d be here in Montana otherwise. The Lord’s made it pretty clear He’s in it for the long haul, so I think we need to be willing to do the same. Don’t you?” She shrugged and gave him the slightest hint of a smile that gave him incredible hope. “I just need more time to absorb everything.”
She might say she needed more time, but time wasn’t going to solve anything. Natalie needed her husband now. He couldn’t spend another moment without her. Marc pulled her to him and crushed his mouth down on hers. His wife could be the most infuriating woman in the world, but also the softest and most vulnerable. In his heart, he knew she wanted the marriage. It was a soothing balm to his hurting, weary heart. Although he’d never doubted his love for her, he, too, was tired of the tears, the anger.
Marc kissed her long and hard. She briefly pushed against him with weak arms, but he held her fast, bundling her closer, his arms wrapped completely around her. If anything, she leaned further into his kiss, responding by pressing her lips equally hard against his. Her hands moved around his neck, her body yielding to him, fully involved in the kiss.
It was almost as though she battled him with her lips, an outpouring of mixed emotion and anger. This kind of weapon he’d willingly suffer. When she fell asleep that night, he wanted her to remember the feel of his lips on hers, the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together. As she awakened in the morning, he wanted her to put a finger on her lips, remembering the passion of their kiss.
Marc increased his efforts, slowly deepening the kiss, a low moan escaping when she responded in kind. Whether or not Natalie understood it, she was fighting back for her husband, and for their marriage. Fighting hard.
Chapter 30
Natalie awoke with a start. Sitting up too fast, she felt dizzy and brought a hand to her forehead. Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, she steadied herself before swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. A rumbling stirred deep in her stomach, maybe hunger, maybe something more.
A smile played about her lips as her hand smoothed down over her flannel-covered stomach. She’d noticed a definite curve there when she was in the shower the day before. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe she had a new life growing inside her, but she prayed constantly for her baby. With everything so messed up with Marc, knowing s
he’d have a baby to love in a few short months gave her renewed hope. She only prayed the consequences of her fall hadn’t somehow harmed her child.
Her bare toes brushed over something soft. Peering over the edge of the bed, she spied gorgeous pink bedroom slippers. She pushed her toes into them. Ah, cozy, and they fit perfectly, but they must belong to Winnie or Beck since their beds were the closest. Taking them off with a wistful sigh, Natalie fumbled under the bed for her old slippers, slipping them on and pushing herself off the bed. Hearing the blustery wind howl outside, deep shivers ran through her.
Walking across the room, she squinted against the sunlight streaming through the window as it reflected off the snow. Feeling silly, she drew a heart on the frosty window. Her finger paused. She’d done this before. Without thinking, she drew N loves M inside the heart. Stepping back, startled, her eyes widened. A strange sensation blanketed her, and she wrapped her arms across her middle. Just like the arms that wrapped around her once before, putting a hand over hers as together their fingers traced the outline of a heart on a window. In Massachusetts. He’d pulled her close, whispered words of love.
It was a memory.
Tears welled in her eyes, and a small cry escaped. “Are they coming back, Lord?” Or was she remembering Marc holding her the night before, kissing her with so much passion? Moving her fingers to her lips, she traced their outline as she stared out the window. She’d been surprised by the strength of her desire as she’d kissed Marc, but it was more than passion. It felt right. Maybe the force of that kiss had dislodged something in her addled brain. Was that crazy? Maybe. But the Lord was mighty, and He could accomplish miracles in unconventional ways.
She shook her head. Passion in the heat of the moment couldn’t excuse the fact she wasn’t sure she could trust her husband. He didn’t seem to understand what tore her up inside wasn’t his past dalliances with other women—and she knew that’s all they were. Of course, it saddened her, but she could tell it made him sad, too. Anyone could see how contrite and repentant he was.
What ate at her was his need to hide the truth of his past before they married. That was the hardest part to accept. He claimed it was to protect her from possible hurt, but she wasn’t so sure. How did she know there weren’t other, deeper secrets he was hiding? He seemed to have laid it all at her feet. Then again, she wasn’t sure of a lot of things right now, including her own mental stability and obvious inadequacies. Was it possible the hormonal changes of pregnancy made her irrational?
Something stirred inside again, and she put a quick hand over her abdomen. Where is everyone? Why is it so quiet? All the other beds were neatly made, everything in its place. Darting a glance at the clock on the dresser, she gasped. Nine-thirty!
Scrambling back to her bed, she grabbed the clothes she’d laid out the night before and her cosmetics bag to head to the small bathroom. She shot a longing glance at the bedroom slippers at the same time she felt a blast of cold air. The door creaked open and Winnie and Amy blew inside the cabin, shivering and rubbing their hands together.
“God bless Texas!” Winnie grinned and yanked her gloves off her hands, removing her hood and shaking out her blonde ponytail. “Montana’s great and all, but give me heat and humidity any day over this torture.”
“How are you this morning, Sunshine?” Amy crossed the room and put an arm around her. “Feeling okay?”
“I’ll give you sunshine.” Natalie suppressed a girlish giggle. Being around these two brought out her silly side. “Why didn’t you wake me up this morning?”
Amy glanced at Winnie and shrugged. “We thought you could use the rest.”
“You are sleeping for two, you know.” Winnie’s smile was infectious, and her big blue eyes never looked brighter.
“That expression doesn’t wash with me in terms of eating, so it doesn’t apply to sleeping either, Winnie, but I appreciate the sentiment. Actually,” she said with a sheepish grin, “it felt wonderful to sleep in.” Nodding toward the window, she shivered again, praying all the while she didn’t get sick. “It looks even colder today. Do I need an extra layer?”
“Probably a good idea,” Amy said. “Listen, we need to scoot back over to the schoolroom, but we’re planning a little road trip into Helena after lunch to get some fabric. Mother Hen over here is feeling domestic,” she said, shrugging a shoulder in Winnie’s direction, “and she’s decided to teach us how to make curtains. Imagine that.” She smiled when Natalie giggled again.
“Lexa’s driving,” Winnie said, crossing her eyes at Amy. “Please say you’ll come. It’ll be fun.”
“When you put it like that, sure. I’ll come over to the schoolroom soon.”
Amy waved her hand. “We’ll handle the kids this morning, and Cassie’s taking over this afternoon when we go into town. For now, you just enjoy a long, leisurely shower.”
Winnie grinned. “Lexa specifically requested that you come over to the dining hall. She wants to fix you a hot breakfast. Expectant Mother’s Special, or something like that. My advice is to eat up all this attention while you can. Literally.”
“All this and getting to sleep in, too. Thanks. Oh, someone left their slippers under my bed by mistake. If they don’t come get them soon, I might have to claim them.”
“Yes, you might just have to do that,” Winnie murmured behind her. Turning to head into the bathroom, Natalie caught the conspiratorial look passing between Winnie and Amy.
~~**~~
After her shower, Natalie hurried over to the dining hall where she found Lexa sifting flour at one of the long tables. She blew a long strand of blonde hair away from her face. Flour was smudged on both cheeks, the sleeves of her sweater pushed up to her elbows.
Cassie stood at another table, rolling out crust. “Morning, Natalie. You look pretty today.” It was hard to decide which was sweeter—the smile or that incredible Alabama drawl. Her compliment was welcome since she didn’t feel particularly pretty.
“Hi, Cassie. Thanks.” Winnie told her Cassie was the newest of the TeamWork ladies, and she hadn’t worked with her at the other previous work camps. Removing her jacket, Natalie quirked a brow. “So, Lexa Homemaker, what are you baking today?” She shared a grin with Cassie. The work table was covered with measuring cups, bowls, and other baking supplies and ingredients. One thing she’d learned—when Lexa put her mind to something, she did it wholeheartedly, skimping on nothing.
“Well, you see,” Lexa said, wiping the back of her hand over her brow, smearing a line of flour in the process, “Sam loves pie—basically any kind of pie. As long as it has a flaky crust with something stuffed inside, he eats it like it’s going out of style. Of course, peach is his favorite, but it’s not exactly the height of peach season. Thankfully, I found some great blueberries at the local market. Frozen fresh, so they’ll do. When God gives you blueberries, you make pie. So, I’m making my cowboy a pie worthy of his big old Texas appetite.”
“Well, that’s a very touching sentiment, and I know how much Sam will appreciate your efforts, like he does everything else. I’m a little late for breakfast since there was a conspiracy to let me sleep in this morning. Don’t let me interrupt your pie making. I’m just going to grab something quick before going over to the schoolroom.” Pushing away from the doorway with a grin, Natalie headed into the kitchen.
Lexa wiped off her hands and pulled her by the arm, steering her back to the long table. “Here. You sit down and talk with Cassie while I get something extra special for you this morning.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be glad to get it . . .” Her words were silenced as Lexa instructed her to stay put in no uncertain terms before disappearing through the swinging doors.
After no more than five minutes of getting to know Cassie, she was rewarded as Lexa returned, weighed down with a heaping platter of pancakes, enough for several people. “A little bird told me this is your favorite type of pancake.” Going back into the kitchen, Lexa emerged with a pitcher of warm, fragrant maple
syrup and a tall glass of milk.
“Was this bird a peacock, by any chance?” Catching Lexa rolling her eyes, Natalie smiled. “I should be thankful Marc knows my preferences since I sure don’t. You’re treating me like a queen. Thanks, Lexa. These smell great.” She darted a curious glance at her plate. “Forgive me, but . . .”
“Streusel pancakes,” Cassie said. The look on her pretty face was interesting, too. She shrugged. “Peacock told me to whisper it in Homemaker’s ear.”
Maybe it was an IHOP Specialty or something. Feeling that rumble in her belly again, Natalie said a quick prayer and took a hearty bite of the pancakes. They practically melted in her mouth. “Oh, Lexa.” It came out an almost indecent moan. “This is soooo good. If your pies are anywhere near as scrumptious, you should start your own business.” She took another bite.
“That’s an intriguing thought.” Lexa accepted her invitation to sit at the table for a few minutes, and they chatted about the ranch and the curtains they planned to make. “I’m glad to see your appetite is healthy again,” Lexa said a few minutes later. She shrugged when she caught Natalie’s quick glance. “Marc told me you weren’t eating much the first few months of your pregnancy.”
Natalie’s breath caught. She cleared her throat and prayed she wouldn’t burst into tears. She’d shed enough tears lately to last her a good long while. How much had Marc told Sam and Lexa? From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Cassie leaving and slipping out into the kitchen.
Lexa reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry. Did I say something to upset you?”
“No, no.” Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she put it beside her empty plate. “Am I being a fool?”
A frown creased Lexa’s brow. “Why would you think that?”
“I have amnesia, but I’m not blind. Marc shows me he loves me in everything he does, everything he says, and even in what he doesn’t say. He’s considerate of my feelings, he’s kind to others . . . at least for the most part.” She managed a small grin.
