His Winter Rose and Apple Blossom Bride

by Lois Richer

  “Thank you.”

  “I also have faith that you’re going to get past it.” He heard a sniff and his insides melted. “Don’t cry,” he begged, hurting at the thought of her tears. “This is supposed to be a happy day,” he chided, wishing he could hold her.

  “It is, isn’t it?” The trembling eased out of her voice. “How did you like your gift?”

  What gift? He’d seen nothing from her but Tati’s present.

  “You didn’t find it?” she guessed. “But I left it on the counter.”

  “I’ll have another check around. I thought we’d opened everything but the place is such a mess it could be hidden anywhere.”

  “I hope you like it.”

  “It’s from you, so I know I will.” This conversation was too difficult to have over the phone. “When are you coming back?”

  “My ticket says the twenty-ninth.”

  There was that silence again.

  “Do you need someone to pick you up at the airport?” he asked, knowing she’d left her car there and was perfectly capable of getting herself back to Serenity Bay.

  “I’ll be fine, Michael.” The lilt was back in her voice. “Send my regards to your mother.”

  “I will.”

  “I’d better go. Dinner’s ready. Bye.”

  “Goodbye, Ashley. Take care of yourself.”

  “You, too.”

  He hung on to the phone even after she’d hung up, feeling like a schoolboy.

  “Aren’t we going to Granny’s?” Tati asked, standing in the doorway.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then you have to get dressed, Daddy. You can’t wear that on Christmas.”

  Michael glanced down, saw the robe. “Two minutes,” he promised. “Give me two minutes.”

  As he pulled up in front of his mother’s house, Michael knew exactly how he was going to spend the next few days until Ashley’s return.

  He was going to find Ned Ainsworth. And when he did, he’d find out the truth.

  It was time.

  Chapter Twelve

  The big grandfather clock chimed twelve times.

  “Happy New Year, Michael.”

  Ashley tilted her punch glass so it tinkled against Michael’s and wished this night would never end. After a perfect wedding, Piper and Jason were on their way to a tropical honeymoon. Yet the guests lingered on at Cathcart House, as loathe as she to let the romantic evening end.

  “Happy New Year, Ashley.”

  Michael’s eyes glowed as dark as the chocolate fountain dripping behind him. He held her gaze as he sipped from his glass. His regard intensified the tension that always zinged between them, stretching it even more taut as the room faded into oblivion and there were only the two of them.

  A moment later he lifted her glass from her hand and set both their glasses down on a nearby table.

  “Don’t you—”

  “Shh….”

  The words died in her throat as he touched her lips with the tip of his finger and drew her into his arms. He bent his head and kissed her as if he was starving.

  It was a perfect kiss, the kind all teenage girls fantasize over. Ashley had been dreaming about this moment for a long time. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back—until the applause grew too loud to ignore.

  She peeked over Michael’s shoulder and saw her friend, Rowena, clad in a gown identical to her own, holding her own glass aloft in a salute. The rest of the room watched them.

  “Go, Ashley!”

  Ashley tossed Rowena a look meant to kill. When that didn’t work, she hid her burning cheeks against Michael’s gleaming white tuxedo shirt. Michael apparently had no problem with them being the center of attention.

  “It’s midnight and there’s mistletoe all over the place,” he chided, his grin flashing. “Don’t you folks have anything better to do?”

  Amid the laughter he drew Ashley across the room, wrapped her cape around her and pulled on his own jacket.

  “Let’s go outside.”

  “Okay.” Still half bemused, she hugged the velvet around her neck and stepped through the French doors onto the cleared deck.

  “Is it too cold?” His arm found her waist, nestled her against his side.

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, awed by the glory of a midnight-black sky with stars sprinkled across it like diamonds scattered from a jeweler’s pouch.

  “You’re perfect. You look lovely, Ashley.”

  “So do you, Mr. Groomsman. We make good wedding attendants.” She smiled, but a slight sense of unease gripped her at the blackness of the valley. She twisted a little, so it was out of sight. “It was a beautiful wedding.”

  “Yes, it was.” As if he sensed that she didn’t want to talk, Michael fell silent, his gaze flickering across the gilded snow, lit by a full moon.

  Ashley studied him. He’d been calling her for days, asking if they could meet, saying they needed to talk. Part of her had longed to go, but the other part fussed and fumed over what he wanted to talk about. So she’d gladly run errands for Piper and used them as an excuse when Michael called again and again.

  But tonight there was no escape.

  She’d have to tell him. The decisions she’d made at Christmas—to stay in the Bay, open the gallery and let God teach her to keep trusting—that had all changed after a phone call this morning. Now the doubts were tumbling around again. What did God want her to do?

  “You’re very quiet.”

  “Sorry. I was thinking about a call I received this morning.” She faced him, determined to have truth between them. “I’ve been offered a job.”

  “A job? But what about—”

  She squeezed his fingers, begging him to wait. Michael clamped his lips together, inclined his head. “Go on.”

  “It’s to manage a gallery. In Paris.”

  “Paris? As in France?” He swallowed at her nod. “Wow! Big step up.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to take it?”

  She’d asked herself the same thing a thousand times. “I don’t know.”

  “But you want to.”

  “Paris is the center of the art world. There is such a vibrant arts culture there. To be part of it—” She let it hang.

  He exhaled. His hands dropped from her waist.

  “Then you should go.”

  “Is that what you really think?” she whispered, longing for him to tell her to stay, to point out the negatives about a job in Paris. To tell her she was needed here.

  “No.”

  His admission was so quiet she barely heard it. “Michael, I—”

  “I want you to stay, Ashley. I want a chance to go to the winter festival with you, to go sailing in the bay. I want you here when I finally have my showing.”

  So he was still focused on that. She was glad. Talent like his shouldn’t be wasted. Still there was something he wasn’t saying. “But?”

  “But you have to decide for yourself what you want to do, Ashley. Nobody else can tell you.”

  “I know that.”

  “Coming back here, facing the past—that’s been very difficult for you. I realize that. Especially since you haven’t found the answers you want. I wish I could have helped you there, but I have to admit I’ve failed.”

  “What do you mean?” She frowned. Something sad, almost defensive, underlaid his words. “Failed at what?”

  “I’ve been doing some investigating, talking to people. About Ned Ainsworth.”

  Anger surged up like a geyser. Ashley squeezed her fingers tighter into the soft smooth velvet of her cape but remained silent.

  “If you could just talk to him, get his side of the story.”

  “Do you think anything he said would erase the nightmares I’ve had?” She met his steady stare, refused to back down. “Do you really imagine some paltry excuse from him would make it better, Michael?” She thrust out her chin. “Not going to happen.”

  “Sweetheart, what’s the alternat
ive? Bury it deep down inside and let it fester a little longer?” He shook his head, his eyes brimming with sympathy, but determination, too. His hands gripped her arms. “This one incident has haunted you for more than half your life, Ashley. You’ve already said you had bad dreams, that you stayed away from the Bay because of fear. When you did come back, you had to talk yourself into it.”

  “And you think I should add a little more fear, open myself to the lies and distortions some maniac has to offer?” She jerked out of his grip. “I don’t think that’s very good advice, Dr. Masters.”

  He stared at her for several moments, the hurt in his eyes visible. But Ashley couldn’t back down. The thought of being anywhere near that man—

  “Why are you so afraid of the truth?”

  She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “You, more than anyone, should know how I’ve tried to get past my past. How dare you say that to me?”

  “I have to say it, Ashley.” He cupped her face so she was forced to look at him. “I’m in love with you.”

  The words, emphatic and clear in the midnight air shocked her. Ashley swallowed, struggled to organize her thoughts. But Michael didn’t give her time. He spoke again, his voice earnest.

  “I never thought I’d fall in love again, never wanted to even risk the possibility. But I see now that God had something else in mind, that’s why He brought both of us here.” One finger traced the angle of her jaw. “I fell in love with you in spite of all my plans, Ashley. You walk into the room and my heart takes off like a jet plane. You’re here.” He patted his chest. “Inside my heart. I couldn’t get you out even if I wanted to. And I don’t.”

  “Michael, I—”

  She was afraid of this—afraid of hearing him say what they’d danced around for so long.

  “I want to begin thinking about the future, what we can build and share together. I thought you’d come to a decision, that opening the gallery meant you were ready to look beyond—” He stopped, let his hands fall away as he regrouped. His face changed, firmed somehow.

  She needed to stop him, to stem words that once spoken couldn’t be taken back, but Michael kept going.

  “Maybe I was expecting too much too soon. That’s okay. I can wait, because I think what we could share is worth waiting for. But I hate seeing you stuck in the past.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Aren’t you?” His sad, knowing smile reached out and squeezed her heart. “Your hands shake when your mask slips and you can’t cover the fear fast enough, Ashley. Even when you came out here tonight, you did a quick check, just in case there was something bad lurking. Didn’t you?”

  “I can’t help my reactions. I’m trying,” she protested trying to ignore the persistent hum of anxiety that never quite went away.

  “Are you really trying?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what is this talk about a new job?” He grasped her hands to stop her from turning away. His dark gaze met hers. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Why now, when you’ve got the gallery almost ready, would you even consider leaving?”

  “It’s a great opportunity.” Ashley could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t buying that. She scrambled to justify herself. “It’s not every day someone dangles a job in Paris in front of my nose. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

  “Is it?” He didn’t look convinced. “I think you’re running away.”

  “Why do you say that? Can’t I change my mind?” But there was more to it than that and pretending otherwise was childish.

  “What about us, Ashley?”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned, trying to sort it out.

  “You told me once before that you had to get the fear sorted out before you could talk about a relationship. I could see the damage the past was doing to you and I agreed. Now I wish I hadn’t.”

  “What damage?” she whispered.

  Michael just looked at her. “You know.”

  She did.

  “Maybe it’s for the best.” He sighed. “If you’re this unsure about your future, if you think running to Paris will make you feel safe, then I guess I have my answer.”

  “I never said I was going…yet. I said I have to think about it. But we can still be friends,” she hurried to assure him. “That won’t change.”

  “It already has.” His dark eyes brimmed with hurt and anger and a yearning that reached out to touch her soul. “Don’t you understand? I want more than just friendship, Ashley. I want to start thinking about a future with you. I want to marry you.”

  She gasped, shocked to hear him admit it out loud. He smiled.

  “I’m not saying we have to get married tomorrow or next week. But I thought—hoped—we could start looking toward the future. I see now that you aren’t able to do that.”

  So soft, so quiet the words. She could hear how much it cost him to admit that.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I really am.” She pressed her palm against his chest to emphasize her point. “You know I care for you. More than I’ve ever cared for anyone. But I’m just not ready to commit to anything more than what we have now.”

  “And what is it that we have, Ashley?” The chill in his voice worried her. “What exactly is it? A few stolen kisses here and there, you playing house with Tati?”

  He sounded angry, bitter. She drew back, hid her hands inside her cape. “I’m sorry if that isn’t enough.”

  “No, it’s not enough,” he snapped. “You’re creating some kind of fairy-tale world so you’ll feel safe. It’s not fair to any of us.”

  “Fairy tale? I don’t know what you mean.” Ashley began to wonder if she knew him as well as she thought. Those melting eyes hardened into chips of black ice, his face tightened to chiseled marble. She stepped back, shocked by the anger in his next words.

  “Do you think I don’t hear you with her? You organize each detail, plan and strategize everything. There’s no spontaneity because you have to think about all the what-ifs and take precautions in case this monster of fear attacks you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, glared at her. “I’ve heard you warning her over and over to be careful, to watch out, to check, to make sure.”

  “There’s a cougar out there, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Yes, there is.” He nodded. “And there are rough boys in her day care who could beat her up. Tati might get cut when she goes skating. I might get an incurable disease and not be there for her. They’re all possibilities.”

  “So?” She frowned. This sourness, this wasn’t like him.

  “Can’t you see it, Ashley?”

  “See what?”

  “How this one thing from your past is impacting everything in your life? Not just how you manage. You cope in your own way, I know that, and maybe that’s enough for you. But it’s gone beyond just you now. Your fear affects how you deal with everyone else.”

  The wind picked up. He stepped closer as if to shield her, pushed the hair from her eyes.

  “Do you think Tati hasn’t picked up on your attitude? She has, Ashley, and it’s changed her. She doesn’t rush into life the way she once did. Lately she’s nervous, fusses if I’m late. At night she asks what-if questions.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be aware.” Ashley swallowed her denial when Michael shook his head, his frustration evident.

  “I’m not talking about awareness and you know it.” He stopped, waited as someone else checked the patio then went back inside. When he spoke again his voice was softer, calmer. “Before Christmas, before you left, you said you were going to try to trust God.”

  “I am trying. Every day.”

  “Are you? Really?” Michael’s eyes met hers and there was no hiding. “Then why can’t you trust God to learn the truth and then to get you through whatever really happened?”

  The words hit her like a ton of bricks, each one breaking through to her subconscious. Like a snake uncoiling, the fear rose inside her, s
eeping through her body until every nerve was taut.

  “I know what happened! That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I was there, Michael. I lived it.”

  He didn’t flinch.

  “Then why haven’t you gone to the police, Ashley? Filed a report, asked them to investigate Ned—done everything you could to stop him from hurting someone else? If you’re so sure his intention was to hurt you, why haven’t you done something?”

  “It’s too long ago—”

  “I know all the reasons you’ll quote, Ashley.” Michael smiled, ticked them off on his fingers. “It happened too long ago, your parents didn’t believe you, there’s no evidence, my mother didn’t see anyone. Everyone thought you imagined it. Even you thought that for a while.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered as the tears welled. “Why do you keep pushing me?”

  “Because I love you and I don’t want to see you hurting any more.” He didn’t touch her physically, but she felt imprisoned by the steady knowing light in his eyes. His breath brushed over her like a caress. “You’re afraid to live, Ashley. You’ve already wasted years letting fear eat away at your life, taking control of who you are, of what you can and can’t do.”

  He held his hands palms up, as if offering her something.

  “Aren’t you tired of it? Don’t you want to be free?”

  She shook her head slowly as the truth flared in her brain. “I’ll never be free of what happened to me. It’s part of who I am.”

  Michael stepped back as if she’d physically pushed him away. His face whitened, but he remained still. After several moments he spoke, but pain echoed through his low throaty voice.

  “It’s part of who you were, sweetheart. It doesn’t have to be part of who you are now. Not unless you let it.”

  “Michael, I—”

  “No, don’t say anything else. Let it go.” He closed his eyes, shook his head, sighed. “I’ve been a fool. It doesn’t matter what I say, the only way you’re going to break free of this snowbank of fear that’s got you imprisoned is to face it down. I realize now that you’re not ready to do that. I’ll pray God will help you, Ashley. I don’t think anyone else can.”