by Arlene James
Laura flashed a desperate look over her shoulder, her dismay evident even as she drew herself up and stood her ground. “I—I’ll help if I can,” she said, unable to quite keep the tremor from her voice.
Miss Wilton seemed not to notice. She was busy tugging off her gloves and folding them together in her lap. “Well, there is just one question,” she said primly, “if you don’t mind.”
Laura cleared her throat. “Not at all.”
Miss Wilton cast a bright-eyed look at Adam that seemed to say she was embarrassed to speak in front of him, yet he had the distinct impression that she was not. “I was just wondering why you’re leaving,” Miss Wilton said.
Laura opened her mouth, but then she snapped it shut again and bowed her head, her facade of indifference crumbling. Adam’s heart lurched. He felt her pain as if it were his own. Oh, no, she did not want to go. Why, then, did she insist on this farce? At the moment, that question was secondary to the need to rescue her from her own stubbornness. He turned smoothly to Miss Wilton, engaging her attention.
“Miss Beaumont’s employment was always temporary,” he said. “I assure you that her leaving has nothing to do with dissatisfaction on either of our parts. It was prearranged.”
Miss Wilton seemed satisfied. “I suppose you’d like to see these before we go on,” she said, extracting an envelope from her purse and extending them toward him. She seemed totally oblivious of Laura’s distress, a fact that did not endear her to her prospective employer.
Adam took the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper, which he quickly scanned. They were letters of reference, very glowing letters of reference. He pretended genuine interest, but his every sense was trained on Laura, who stood tensely by, her moroseness hanging over the room like a black cloud. He folded the papers, put them back in the envelope and handed them to Miss Wilton, saying noncommittally, “You seem to have a good deal of experience.”
“Oh, yes, I should say so.”
For several minutes, Miss Wilton expounded proudly on said experience, but Adam could only concentrate on not looking at Laura. Finally, sensing a break in the monologue, he quickly interjected, “That’s very impressive. You’ve definitely given me a great deal to think about. Thank you.”
Miss Wilton preened, one small hand patting her short mouse-brown hair where it flipped up, just behind her left ear. Adam imagined that the tiny flip irritated her no end. Miss Wilton did not seem the sort to tolerate errant flips. Seeing that he’d noticed, she dropped her hand to her lap.
“I’d like to meet the children now, if you please,” she said firmly.
Adam was taken aback. His smile strained, his impatience barely held in check, he quietly replied that he had decided not to bring the children into the matter until he had narrowed down the list of applicants. “They’re quite young,” he explained hastily. “I don’t want to confuse them.”
Miss Wilton stiffened at the implication that she did not yet have a lock on the position. “I see. Well, you understand, I trust, that I simply cannot accept any offer until I’ve met the children involved.”
“Yes, of course,” Adam said, resisting the impulse to grit his teeth as he got to his feet and held out a hand to assist her in rising.
Miss Wilton’s slender brows rose into the fringe of her bangs. Quickly she gathered herself and her accoutrements and stood. “I can’t promise not to accept another position before I hear from you,” she pointed out briskly.
Adam smiled and nodded. “I understand. Thank you for coming.”
Miss Wilton was frowning when he closed the door behind her a few moments later, but Adam didn’t give it a thought as he turned and strode swiftly down the hall to the den. Laura was standing at the window, the curtain pulled aside so that she could stare out at the blanket of snow covering the ground. Adam went straight to her and, after only an instant’s hesitation, slid his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. “Laura, you can’t pretend anymore that you want to leave here. Whatever is driving you away, I know it’s not ambition. Tell me. Please tell me what the problem is.”
She laid her head back against his shoulder and rolled it slowly from side to side. “I can’t, and it wouldn’t make any difference if I could.”
He slid a hand upward, over her breasts and along the graceful column of her throat, to cup her chin and angle her face toward his. “Laura,” he whispered beseechingly, brushing his mouth across hers. Her lips trembled beneath his, but then she turned her face away.
“Please don’t, Adam. It already hurts so much.”
He didn’t know what to say, how to convince her to change her mind. He could only offer a silent comfort, his cheek pressed to her temple, his arms tight around her. He could only hold her, it seemed, and so he vowed to hold her as long as he could.
Laura closed her eyes and let herself feel safe, but it was an emotion she dared not indulge too long. She dared not believe that it extended beyond this moment, far worse even than the thought of going was the thought of Doyal finding her here. She knew that he wouldn’t let her escape him a second time, and even if, by some miracle, his fury did not spill over onto the Fortune family, they were bound to suffer. Even if she simply disappeared one day and they were never to know how or why, they would still wonder and worry. She couldn’t let that happen. They’d already lost Diana in a senseless accident. She couldn’t let her own departure remain unresolved. When the time came to go, she would have to find a way to convince Adam that it was what she wanted—but not yet. Oh, God, not yet!
And so she stood, her head on his shoulder, her arms covering his as he held her. She could have this, just this, and when he found a replacement for her, she would go. She would convince him that it was what she wanted after all, and she would go. For now she would feel safe—and loved. She would let herself feel loved, just this once, just this moment. Even if real love was not quite what Adam felt for her, she would let herself believe that it was…for now. Just for now. But the moment Adam found her replacement, she would go. She promised herself that she would go, and she kept her promises. She always kept her promises. No matter how badly it hurt.
Nine
Her cheeks were so cold they stung, but her nose was beginning to thaw to the point of dripping. Still, she smiled as Robbie attempted to pull off his knit mask and yelped when he also tugged a handful of hair.
“Here, let me.” She went down on one knee and carefully peeled up the heavy woolen combination mask and cap. Robbie giggled when it momentarily hung on his nose. Laura pulled it off, shook it, folded it and stuffed it in his coat pocket before turning to aid Ryan. Wendy already had her pink-and-blue monstrosity off. Her fine, thin hair flew about in all directions, the barrette on the top of her skull alarmingly askew. Laura paused for a moment to smooth her hair back into place and reset the barrette before absently dropping a kiss onto her forehead. In short order, all three pairs of little arms were grappling for holds about her neck, while plumply pursed lips smacked dry kisses all over her face. Laura fell back on her rump, laughing, but even as the sound bubbled up, her throat closed around a lump of tears. How in heaven’s name was she going to give up this? They loved her. They needed her. She was a danger to them. She had to go.
Don’t think about it until the time comes, she told herself. It was the same advice she’d been giving herself for days now.
When the frenzy of affection subsided, she pushed herself up to a full sitting position, her legs folded so that her ankles were crossed, and helped Robbie off with his mittens and coat. She noticed that Ryan did not wait for help, performing an antsy dance as he shed his outerwear. She sent the lot of them to the bathroom, with instructions for Ryan to go first.
“I’ll be back in a minute to help you wash up.”
She got to her feet and removed her coat and scarf, stowed everyone’s cold-weather gear in the hall closet, then went in search of Beverly to ask that lunch be served. She was starved. Playing in the snow and cold took
a lot of energy.
Just as she started through the dining room toward the kitchen, the sound of laughter drew her up short and spun her around. It was couple laughter, the harmony of male and female voices in intimate concert. It spoke of understanding and approval, of ease and kinship, and the male voice was definitely Adam’s. Curiosity and dread pulled her toward the den. She paused in the doorway, her heart dropping like a stone in a well.
Adam and a small, attractive woman about his age were sitting on the couch, their bodies angled toward one another, their eyes alight with eagerness. They were talking, their conversation so tight and interwoven that they seemed almost to be speaking at the same time. Laura’s outsider’s ears could not even comprehend the words, but she understood all too well Adam’s relaxed smile and enthusiastic nods. When he reached out and took the woman’s hand in his, laying both casually upon her slender knee, Laura felt the kick of jealousy in her midsection. It was so fierce that her stomach churned and threatened to heave. She clamped a hand to her belly, literally sick. That was the very moment when Adam seemed to notice her. He beamed at her across the room.
“Oh, Laura, there you are. This is Jane. Jane, Laura.”
The woman beside him turned a smile in Laura’s direction. She was quite pretty, with large, intelligent slate-blue eyes and long light brown hair, shot through with ginger and curling softly about an elegantly featured face. Her eyes sparkled with secret knowledge, or some delicious joke. “Hello, Laura,” she said richly. “I understand you have tamed the heathens.”
“What?”
Adam chuckled. “The children, where are they? Jane wants to see them.”
Laura’s heart hit rock bottom. So this is it, then. She gestured absently, murmuring, “I’ll get them.”
“Thank you,” Adam said dismissively, turning back to Jane.
Laura reeled inwardly. Outwardly her legs and arms moved by rote. She collided with the walls in places, but somehow she made her way down the hall to the bath the children shared. She heard the sound of running water and giggles. She opened the door. The three of them were standing on two stools and bending over the same sink. Soap bubbled beneath running water. They were dipping their hands and smacking one another with the bubbles, aiming for the face. Any moment now, someone was bound to get soap in the eyes.
“Stop that.” It came out dull and lifeless, mechanical, but all three stopped and looked up expectantly. It was then that the tears came. Laura jerked around, blinking rapidly. “Your father wants you in the den. You have company.”
“Company?” Wendy squealed, delighted.
“Who is it?” Robbie demanded.
Laura turned back, smiling despite the telling sparkle of her eyes. It was the least she could do for them. “A lady, someone you’ll like.”
Robbie groaned, and Ryan joined in a heartbeat later, but Wendy was climbing down off the step stool, her curiosity evident in the jerky swiftness of her movements. The twins caught a whiff of it and were after her in a blink. Laura stepped aside and let them go, their little legs pelting down the halfway. She knew she ought to remind them of their manners, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Let those kisses in the foyer be their last solid memory of her; they would be hers of them.
A misery unlike anything she’d ever felt in her life enveloped her. She lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob and turned toward her room. This was the way it had to be, and she had vows to keep. She knew in her heart that Jane was a woman who would recognize the preciousness of those children. Adam was right to settle on her. She would be an excellent nanny. Her charges’ misbehavior would not deter or fool her. She would be loving and firm, but she would also laugh with them and kiss their tiny wounds and keep them close to their father.
Their father. That was the real problem. Laura had seen in Jane’s eyes a deep and understanding appreciation of Adam Fortune—and it had been mutual. Those two knew each other on some fundamental, elemental level. He was not wary with Jane. He was not tied in knots with her. There would be no danger to keep them apart. Oh, God. Laura sat on her bed and wept with silent, ferocious pain.
In sheer desperation, she began to tell herself that Jane might well be married or engaged to be, though it wasn’t likely. Nannies were a solitary lot, dedicated to living in other people’s houses and raising other people’s children. An engaged or married woman would not be taking on a brand-new job. Perhaps it would be best if she was available. She did not want to think of Adam always alone. Much better that he be with someone like Jane. She wanted to think of him happy and well. She needed to feel that he would be all right, that his life would be satisfying and complete, even though she knew instinctively that hers would never be. It was then that she knew that she loved him. Suddenly everything she’d believed she felt for Doyal Moody was revealed, not only as ignorance, but as immature and, to her shame, quite desperate.
It was hard to admit how needy she had been—and perhaps still was. To have no one, no relative, no true friend, no lover, was a desperate and lonely and frightening thing. She had wondered sometimes after Sister Agnes’s death if she really even existed. If a tree fell in a forest and there was no one around to hear, did it really make a sound? If a person lived but no one recognized that fact, did she really exist? Since going on the run from Doyal, never staying anywhere too long, trying to hide herself in plain sight, she’d often felt that same shattering sensation, but not since coming to the Fortune house. Here she was real and wanted and substantial. Here she was part of something, a necessity to the lives of others. Until now.
She closed her eyes and hoped it wouldn’t be long. She didn’t want the parting dragged out, the wound prodded. With that in mind, she got up, pulled her nylon duffel from the closet and began systematically packing her clothes. There were more, she noted mistily, than when she had arrived. Somehow Adam always found things she “needed.” She made a thorough job of it, organizing, folding, stacking. Her bed was littered with tidy piles of clothing when someone tapped on her door.
“Laura?”
She froze. He had come to tell her straight away, then. Despite the tears starting in her eyes, she was glad, truly. The sooner done, the better for all concerned. She turned to stand at the foot of the four-poster bed facing the door, one hand clutching a pair of pink panties. “Come in.”
Adam opened the door and stepped inside. He was smiling. “We’re waiting lunch on you. The kids are so hungry they’re threatening to eat their napkins. They—” He stopped and stared at the bed, his smile vanishing. “What are you doing?”
She turned her back, quickly folded the panties and thrust them atop a pile, stating the obvious. “I’m packing.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then she felt him step up to her back. His voice was close to her ear when he said, “Why are you packing?”
She turned a pair of socks right side out and cuffed them together. “Let’s don’t pretend, Adam. She’s absolutely perfect. I watched her for about two minutes, and I knew she was the one.” She attempted a smile, a look into his eyes. She saw amusement and bleakness. She rejected both. “If you haven’t accepted her already, please do so right away. Jane will work out, I promise you.”
“You little idiot,” he said softly, lifting his hands to cup her forearms and lightly pull her back against him. “I called the agency and told them to forget it.”
“You what?” She pulled away and turned to face him, fighting the trembling warmth that being close to him brought.
“I called the agency and told them not to send over any more applicants.”
She looked down, not wanting him to see the suspicious brightness in her eyes. “Then you agree that Jane is the right person to replace me.”
He seized her shoulders and shook her. “I did it before Jane came to visit!” he declared. “I couldn’t cope with it! I couldn’t let you leave.” His hands slid over her shoulders and up her neck, to cup her face. “Jane’s my cousin. She’s leaving Minnesota. Gr
andmother left her a house in Maine, and she’s decided to move there with her son, Cody, before the new school year starts. She came to say goodbye.”
A reprieve. The relief of it weakened her knees and sent her breath out in a whoosh. “Your cousin?” she repeated weakly.
“My cousin,” he confirmed, sounding quite happy about it.
She closed her eyes and laid her head against his shoulder, wondering how her arms had come to be around his waist. She felt his lips in her hair and the strength, the possessiveness, of his hug. He held her for a long, sweet moment, then stepped around and turned her toward the door, his arm locked securely about her shoulders.
“Come and eat,” he told her. “Then, later, you can put that damned mess away. You’re not going anywhere yet.”
Not yet. She wasn’t leaving him yet. He couldn’t cope with it. Yet. She realized that her arm was still about his waist, but she didn’t remove it until they had almost reached the dining room.
They usually took lunch in the kitchen, but that table only sat four comfortably. As long as the twins were small enough to share one side of the table, it was homier to eat in the kitchen, but company would naturally dictate that they use the larger table in the dining room.
Laura put on a smile and stepped out of the curve of Adam’s embrace, nodding companionably at Jane, cousin Jane. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, as Adam pulled out her chair and she lowered herself into it.
“No problem,” Jane said from across the table. “I’ve been visiting with the children.” She smiled at the children, then turned back to Laura. “I’ve heard a deal about you, you know.”
“Oh?” Laura turned a questioning gaze on each of the children, then on Adam.
Jane laughed lightly. “It was all good, I promise you.”
“Oh.” Laura felt herself blush. “Well, I love children, and Adam’s so easy to work for.”
“Adam?” Jane goggled, a slender hand flung against her chest. “Cousin Adam?” She laughed. “Adam The-Military-Is-Too-Soft Fortune?”
