by Karen Kirst
“Is that so?” He slowly advanced, and the light of mischief in his eyes fired a thrill down her spine. Mischief was so much better than displeasure.
“It’s a horrible sound.” She adopted an aggrieved expression, thoroughly enjoying this. “Like ten grizzly bears crammed in a cave together.”
One dark brow arched as he bypassed the sofa. “Only ten?”
She tapped her chin. “You’re right. It’s more like twenty.”
Suddenly his hands were on her, tickling along her rib cage, evoking peals of laughter. Rebecca squirmed. Pushed at his hands. The lopsided grin brightening his normally somber face buoyed her spirits. Gave her a glimpse of the lighthearted boy he’d once been.
“Grizzly bears, huh?” He continued his assault until she was out of breath. The moment his hold went slack, she danced out of reach. “You’re fortunate, Mrs. O’Malley, that my bum leg is giving out. Otherwise, I’d have you begging for mercy.”
Rebecca startled at the unfamiliar title. Somehow, it sounded right falling from his lips. Don’t think that. It was supposed to be Mrs. Tierney, the part of her heart that was loyal to Adam shouted. Beneath the collar of her blouse, the locket weighed heavily against her skin, a silent warning to guard her heart. Look how easily Adam walked away from her. Caleb had made her no promises, had been clear about his plans to leave.
“I warn you, I’ll be listening carefully tonight. I have a feeling I’m not the only one who snores around here.”
That soul-shocking grin was still in place, his brown eyes earnest. His shiny black hair fell across his forehead. He looked approachable and carefree, and all she wanted was to prolong the rare moment of fun, the sense of connectedness. But she’d learned her lesson well. She wasn’t willing to repeat it.
“You know what? I’m actually not that cold. Guess you’ll have to wait and wonder.” And with that, she went into the bedroom and shut the door. On him. And on foolish hopes.
Chapter Eighteen
As little as a month ago, Caleb would’ve said he’d be spending Christmas alone on a remote mountaintop somewhere, feasting on trout and dried jerky, fantasizing about his ma’s pumpkin pie and wondering if Kate had made him an uncle yet. How quickly plans changed. He could not have foreseen being back in this cabin that didn’t feel like home, with a woman who had no desire to be his wife.
He’d known the moment he called her Mrs. O’Malley that it had been a mistake. It was as if Adam himself had materialized in the flesh—a living, breathing reminder that Caleb was a poor substitute. When she’d reached for the locket out of habit, something had clicked in his mind. There could be no doubt whose likeness that locket bore. Fighting jealousy he had no right feeling, he’d watched her retreat with deep regret. Then he’d lain on the stiff sofa cushions and stared at the rafters until exhaustion claimed him.
He’d awoken before dawn and, worried Becca would be cold, risked bodily harm by entering her room and tucking the quilts more closely about her sleeping form. Of course he’d lingered. Her breathing deep and even, her pearl-like skin a stark contrast to the dark waves tumbling across her pillow, her puckered brow spoke to the problems plaguing her even in sleep.
That brow had given him an idea. And now here he was, nearly two hours later, nursing his third coffee, impatient for her reaction.
At ten minutes to eight, the door at last creaked open. Becca wore a fetching striped dress that hugged her curves and made her eyes pop.
“Good morning,” he offered from his place at the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. “I hope you slept well.”
“I overslept, didn’t I?” She touched a hand to her upswept hair. “You should’ve woken me. You must be starving.”
“I can see to my own needs. Besides, we had a late night. You needed your rest.”
Nodding, she hung back, hands fisted at her sides. His thoughts returned to last night’s unfinished conversation.
What wasn’t she telling him about the past? What had triggered the change in her treatment of him? He’d gone over the handful of days they’d spent in her parents’ barn nursing the poor cat to health thousands of times and come up empty. They hadn’t argued. On the contrary, without Adam around as a distraction, he and Becca had connected in a way they hadn’t before. They’d talked for hours. About everything and nothing. He remembered teasing her. A lot. Simply to see the blush bloom on her cheeks and the sparkle light up her magnificent eyes. If he’d offended her, she’d hidden it well.
“Was the sofa comfortable...?” Becca trailed off, attention snared by the evergreens and holly arranged atop the mantel and the spindly tree in the corner. Floating over to the fireplace, she leaned down to inhale the greenery. The pleasure curving her lips filled him with satisfaction. He’d done the right thing. “Did you do this all by yourself?”
“The place was too bare.” He tipped his cup toward the tree. “I’m sure Ma has extra ribbons you and Amy can use if you wanna add some color.”
“Thank you, Caleb. I’d forgotten how thoughtful you are.”
The brilliance of her smile wrapped around him, suffusing him with a contentment he hadn’t felt in years. Could happiness be this easy to achieve? Simply by making Becca smile?
He grabbed another mug from the shelf and, dusting it out, poured her some coffee. “How about I scramble you an egg? Then we can peek in on the expectant parents.”
It had been weeks since he’d seen his oldest brother, since Thanksgiving, actually. He was curious how Josh was handling impending fatherhood. Smothering poor Kate, probably.
Becca rummaged through one of the baskets on the table and produced a jar of muscadine jelly. “Not necessary. I’ll just have some bread.”
He handed her the steaming mug, then gathered a plate and knife for her, which gained him another sweet smile. Oh, yeah. A man could get used to this.
* * *
Christmas morning, Caleb greeted Rebecca with ready-made coffee, a cinnamon bun he’d most likely snatched from his mother’s kitchen and two presents. Expression schooled to blandness, he scooted both packages—one a square, small box and the other rectangular in shape—across the polished tabletop.
“Merry Christmas, Becca.”
She skimmed a finger across the plain brown wrapping paper. “I didn’t realize we were exchanging gifts.”
“You’re my wife,” he said simply, as if that was explanation enough.
Sinking into the chair opposite, she splayed her hands on the smooth wood. “I don’t have a gift for you.”
She hadn’t even entertained the thought. Some wife she was turning out to be.
“I don’t need anything.” His mouth curled with fleeting humor. “I’m sure my parents will supply me with a year’s worth of socks and scarves.”
Rebecca couldn’t be this close and not be affected by him. Mornings were the worst. The shadow of a beard darkening his jaw and chin called to her fingers to explore the chiseled planes. The hair slipping into his eyes would tickle her skin if she threaded it off his forehead as she longed to do. The brown depths weren’t as guarded, as if his nightly dreams yet lingered, clouding reality and weakening his defenses.
It didn’t help that he was wearing her favorite shirt, the buttermilk-colored one that complemented his skin and dark hair and eyes, the soft cotton conforming to his broad chest and muscular arms. Caleb’s controlled strength was housed in a lean, powerful body that hummed with vitality. One that was capable of incredible gentleness.
She shoved memories of their embrace to the far reaches of her mind.
“Aren’t you curious what’s in that?” He tipped his head to the larger box she’d rested her hand on.
“Very.”
“Then I suggest you open it,” he teased.
Despite his reassurances, Rebecca felt bad for not getting him anyth
ing. And deeply touched that he’d thought of her. Peeling away the paper, she smiled when she saw the drawing pencils and paintbrushes. He’d always been supportive of her passions. “Not only are you thoughtful, but perceptive, as well. Thank you. I will put these to good use.”
“I know you will.”
Laying the art supplies aside, she picked up the smaller box with a pinprick of trepidation. It resembled a jewelry box. But that couldn’t be right. Caleb wasn’t the frivolous type. Or was he?
The silence permeating the room grew heavy with expectation. When she lifted the lid and spotted the unadorned gold band, her gaze shot to his. “What’s this?”
Scraping his chair back, he came around and took the box from her limp fingers. Extracting the ring, he silently lifted her left hand and slipped it on. “This may not be a conventional marriage—” his voice was coarse “—but the fact remains that we are husband and wife. No one will have cause to question it now.”
Rebecca stared at the ring, which fit her finger perfectly. “This is because of Wendell.”
He winced. “In part. The incident made me realize I’d overlooked an important part of our union, and I wanted to remedy the oversight.” Fishing in his pant pocket, he withdrew a similar gold band. “Figured I’d get one for myself.” He quickly slid it on and returned to his seat, his focus on the contents of his mug.
Rebecca stared at her hand. While the ring fit, the weight of it would take some getting used to. The flash of polished gold seemed to scream possession. How much of Caleb’s motivation stemmed from the incident with Wendell and how much from the need to claim her as his own?
I’m reading too much into this, she told herself. He didn’t ask for this marriage any more than I did.
Scooting the breakfast plate closer, she managed a strained thank-you. Why she felt conflicted about the ring she couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe because I’d envisioned wearing his best friend’s ring, not his?
“As soon as you’re finished,” he said, “we can go on over to the main house. I’m sure Amy is straining at the bit to open presents.” Cocking his head, he indicated the small present laid out on the coffee table. “I’ve one to give her, as well.”
Again, his kindness touched Rebecca, making her odd reaction to the ring dissolve like fog in sunlight. “You’re too kind. She’ll be pleased.”
“I couldn’t very well forget my sister-in-law on Christmas, could I?”
Swallowing a moist bite of the sweet, she said worriedly, “Since I didn’t know we’d be spending the day with your family, I wasn’t able to prepare gifts for them.”
“They don’t expect you to give them anything.”
“Still—”
Caleb covered her hand with his own. His ring gleamed in the early-morning light streaming through the kitchen window. Looks good on him, she thought with surprise.
“They would be upset if they knew you were fretting about it, so don’t. Please.”
“All right.”
The O’Malleys had been good to her and Amy. She didn’t want to cause them anxiety, especially Kate. They had had a wonderful visit with Kate and Josh yesterday morning. It was the first time Rebecca had spoken with the New York native in an intimate setting, and she’d discovered they had many things in common, including a love of books. They’d spent the better part of an hour speaking of Kate’s love of photography and Rebecca’s drawing. Josh and Caleb had entertained themselves with talk of farming and furniture.
More than once, Rebecca had caught Caleb’s furtive glances at Kate’s large tummy. Because she was petite, the baby she was carrying seemed to dwarf her small frame. He’d appeared simultaneously fascinated and horrified. And when his gaze had entwined with Rebecca’s, regret had flickered in the dark depths only to be quickly banished. She’d considered broaching the matter with him, but what was there to say? Have you changed your mind about having babies? Should we try for a family?
Unaware of the direction of her thoughts, he deposited his dishes in the dry sink. “I will warn you. O’Malley family holidays can be overwhelming. My aunt and cousins are coming, except Juliana and her family, of course. There may be embarrassing childhood tales. If Megan and the girls have anything to do with it, those tales are likely to be embellished to the point of ridiculousness.”
“You’re nervous about what they might tell me, aren’t you?”
“I’m just saying don’t believe everything you hear today.” Hips leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, he flashed a lopsided grin that had a devastating effect on her equilibrium. Her husband was the picture of health and masculine appeal. The scar couldn’t detract from that.
Suddenly she very much looked forward to watching him interact with his family members. That she craved insight into his personality didn’t have to mean anything beyond mere curiosity, did it?
* * *
“Time to open presents.” Lovely in an ice-blue, beribboned dress that matched her expressive eyes, Sophie tugged Rebecca out of the chair and through the doorway leading to the living room. Over her shoulder, she addressed their mother-in-law, who was alone in the kitchen slicing into a pecan pie. “Dessert can wait, Mary. Your husband is about to read the Christmas story.”
“I’ll be right there,” Mary called after them.
Sophie leaned in close. “I don’t know about you, but I doubt I could eat another bite after that feast.”
Rebecca smiled. As usual, the younger girl’s bubbly personality put her at ease. Sophie was one of those people who didn’t possess a single critical bone in her body and who made everyone around her feel welcome.
Looking around at her newly acquired family, she acknowledged that everyone here had made an effort to include her and Amy. Even standoffish Nicole.
Rebecca hung back as Sophie went to join Nathan on the stairs. The room was filled to overflowing. Will and Amy sat on the striped rug closest to the decorated tree, their attention on the simply wrapped packages beneath the fragrant branches. A very pregnant Kate occupied one of the wingback chairs. Radiant in a frilly peach dress, she couldn’t hide her discomfort or the shadows beneath her eyes. Josh stood behind her chair, concern lining his face as he kneaded her shoulders.
Caleb’s aunt Alice was ensconced in the other chair, and Nicole, Jessica and Jane had set up dining chairs directly behind the blue serpentine sofa.
“Rebecca.” Megan beckoned with a wave of her hand. “There’s room here.”
Seated beside her distinguished husband, Lucian Beaumont, the fair-haired young woman indicated the single remaining spot on the sofa. Right beside Caleb.
While the O’Malleys had welcomed her into the fold, they had also observed her and Caleb’s interactions with curiosity and open scrutiny. Not that she blamed them, considering their past history and the circumstances surrounding their marriage. Still, the attention made her feel as if she were on display.
“Mary can sit there,” Rebecca said. “I’ll get another chair.”
“Oh, no, dear.” Mary came in behind her and patted her shoulder, blue eyes twinkling. “You go sit with your husband.”
Caleb’s penetrating gaze tracked her slow approach. While he’d been quiet throughout the meal, she’d gotten the impression he was simply soaking everything in.
There wasn’t much cushion space left, so when she sat down her generous skirts spilled over onto his pants and her side wedged into his. He angled his head toward her, a bone-melting smile curling his lips. Her breath hitched. They hadn’t been this close since the day Samantha and Wendell had paid her a visit and he’d pulled her into a kiss she couldn’t stop reliving in her daydreams. One she wouldn’t mind repeating.
On the other side of Caleb, Lucian and Megan exchanged a significant look. Across from them, Josh was watching them thoughtfully. Oh, boy.
Cheeks burni
ng, Rebecca centered her attention on her father-in-law, who was standing beside the fireplace with his large black Bible. As he read from the familiar passage in Luke, relating the events leading up to Christ’s birth, memories of her parents pressed in. Sam’s resonant voice sounded too much like her father’s. Each Christmas morning, he’d read those same verses aloud as she, Amy and their mother listened.
Jim Thurston had loved the Lord. Had cherished his family. Rebecca hadn’t once questioned his love for her. How she missed his tight hugs, his booming laughter. Missed seeing him take her mother’s hand and dance with her across the room. She felt their absence every day. Why did holidays have to be this difficult?
Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Beneath the covering of her skirts, Caleb’s hand found hers. His strong fingers laced with hers and held on tight.
She didn’t dare look at him, lest she completely lose control. His silent show of support was the latest in a growing list of admirable traits she’d conveniently forgotten.
His unfailing thoughtfulness, his small kindnesses, were slowly but surely altering her view of him. It was growing increasingly difficult to see him as the thoughtless wrecker of dreams she’d painted him to be.
Sam closed the Bible and, hugging it against his chest, swept the room with his wise, bespectacled gaze. “This year we’ve welcomed several new additions to our family. Some have come from far away.” He smiled at Lucian, who hailed from New Orleans. “And some from right next door.” Everyone chuckled as Sophie bussed Nathan’s cheek. “We’re still waiting for the newest addition. Impatiently, I might add.” He gestured to Kate, who blushed prettily. “I’ve watched each of my sons find happiness.”
When Sam’s gaze landed squarely on Rebecca, she struggled to maintain a composed air. Surely he didn’t believe Caleb was happy with her?
“We have much to be thankful for,” he continued. “And must remember to thank God for our blessings. Let’s pray.”
Rebecca didn’t have time to bow her head, because suddenly Caleb was pressing a handkerchief into her free hand. Concern warmed his eyes as they caressed her dampened cheeks. She had the distinct feeling that, if they had been alone, he would’ve mopped up her tears and pulled her close for a hug.
