“What is it?” she asked, apprehension rising into her throat.
Her mother squeezed her hand, holding it as if to keep her there.
“I remarried.”
Joy shot to her feet, her mouth dropping open, and the first word that came to mind spilled from her mouth. “What!”
Her mother chuckled, pulling her hand to get her to sit down again. Joy stumbled, her knees giving out, and she sat with a thump. “Calm yourself, darling,” her mother cooed. “I know it comes as a shock—”
“A shock, Mother? Of course, I am shocked… I—I don’t even know what to say…” For the second time in as many days, Joy was speechless.
Her mother patted her hand, which did little to comfort Joy. Her mind spinning, Joy couldn’t seem to put her thoughts together.
Her mother. Remarried?
“Who?” she blurted. “Who is he?”
Her mother smiled, her expression glowing. “Alfred Wilson. He was a good friend of your father.”
“The hotelier?” Joy asked, her extremities numb from sitting so stiffly.
Mother nodded. “Yes, darling.”
“But, how did it happen? So quickly, too. And why wasn’t I invited to your wedding, Mother?” That’s what bothered Joy most about it. She loved her mother, and they had been the only family the other had for five years. Why wouldn’t her mother at least tell her she was seeing someone?
Her mother sighed. “It all happened so fast—we were both so lonely. After losing your father, and you going off to school, the house felt so empty. It was empty. And Alfred’s wife died more than ten years ago. I was so tired of being lonely, without the companionship of someone who would care for me. Needless to say, Alfred and I were caught up in a rush of love, passion… It was wonderful.” She sighed again, her face turning pink. “Eight months ago, Alfred and I met again at a fundraiser in his hotel, The Imperial. We began talking, he invited me out for luncheon the next day…and, well…things just seemed to go from there.” She leaned forward, cupping Joy’s face in her hands. “I wanted to tell you, but it all happened so quickly. We only married last week.”
“So, this is your honeymoon, then?” she surmised. “Where is Mr. Wilson?”
“He is in our room at the hotel.”
“How long will you be staying?” Joy asked, excited about the prospect of spending time with her mother…and her new stepfather.
“Until the New Year. I wanted to spend Christmas and New Year’s Eve with you, darling.”
Joy smiled, her heart filling with gladness. She leaned in and embraced her mother, enjoying the familiar scent and warmth of her. “I am so happy you’re here, Mother.”
“I am, too. And…I have more good news,” her mother announced, her face glowing all the more.
Joy waited, anxiously, for what her mother had to say next.
“I have started a new business!” her mother exclaimed. “You are looking at the newest event planner in San Francisco. And I already have seven clients!”
Shocked but overflowing with happiness for her mother, Joy laughed. “That’s wonderful, Mother—But then her father’s words surfaced, cutting off the joy of the moment.
One or the other.
“But…Mother…how is that possible?” she asked, confused. Suddenly, she was frightened for her mother. What would happen when her stepfather made his new wife quit? Her mother would be heartbroken.
“How is what possible, dear?” her mother asked, an arch of bemusement in her brows.
“You’re married again…what will happen to your business? How can you have both?” And she really wanted to know. Suddenly very desperately. What would it be like to know the love of a man and to still get to do what you love?
Her mother’s bemusement turned to perplexity in a flash.
“Why can’t have I both?”
“Father told me that I could either be a good wife or a nurse. That I cannot be both. Marriage or success,” Joy admitted, feeling a twinge of foolishness.
Canting her head, her mother stared at her, poring over Joy’s face.
“Darling…your father was raised in a culture where the man could hold that kind of power over his wife, keeping her at home, if he so chose. And the woman was expected to remain home, bear children, and live her life catering only to the health and happiness of her family.”
Startled, Joy murmured, “Isn’t that what you did, too?”
Her mother’s smile softened the lump in Joy’s chest, but only a little.
“Yes and no.” She pursed her lips, contemplatively. “We loved each other, your father and I, and while we loved each other, we understood that we’d come from two different worlds. Your father from a more…old world culture, and me, from a family where the women worked as hard as the men did.”
“But you didn’t work. You stayed home, running the household,” Joy pointed out.
“That I did, but that was hard work, dear. A house as large as the one we lived in took more than a little work to maintain. And those parties… I would spend weeks, many hours every day, working to plan them. No, I didn’t have a typical job, but I still worked. I still did something I thoroughly enjoyed. And now, I will get to do it for money.”
Gobsmacked by all she’d just heard, Joy pressed a shaking hand to her overly warm cheek.
Was it possible to allow love in her life, have a family, be a wife, but also be a success as a nurse?
Yes! The answer was written all over her mother’s face. She was deliriously happy—happily married and excited about her new adventure as an event planner. And surely, her brilliant mother would be a success at whatever she chose to do.
I can do that, too.
Seamus. She could love Seamus.
You already love Seamus. She gasped, her heart racing. It was true. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, had actually fought against it, but it had happened anyway. She was in love with Seamus MacAdams. Joy thought back to every moment she’d spent with him over the last two weeks. Two weeks? Was it possible to fall in love with someone in such a short time?
It’s nearly Christmas! Anything was possible.
She remembered the heated intensity of his gaze, the inexplicable adoration in his eyes. The way he seemed to kiss her with such reverence.
Perhaps…he loved her, too.
Purpose filled her and, after walking her mother to the hotel and promising to explain her erratic and frantic behavior later, Joy ran, pell-mell, for the hotel ballroom.
Dashing through the door, sucking in gulps of air, she was relieved to see Tilly and Ray standing there, gaping at her in surprise, surrounded by beautifully decorated tables and festively bedecked walls.
“Ray,” Joy wheezed, “just the woman I wanted to see. You busy?”
Chapter Ten
He hadn’t wanted to come. Would rather have sat in his room, on his bed, with his head between his hands. He could be alone in his misery there. But neither Ray nor her mother would allow him to “wallow in ridiculousness” as he’d wanted to.
Surrounded by smiling people, laughter, and so much Christmas cheer, Seamus wanted to crawl into his own chest and let the world fall silent around him.
The one thing he’d wanted, his own Christmas miracle, had been offered to him at his most lonely moment, and then stolen from him at his most hopeful.
“Smile, Seamus. People will start to think you’re angling for a fight.” Billy wasn’t the first person to mention Seamus’s less than gleeful countenance.
“I’m sorry, Billy, I’m no’ in the mood for joviality,” he admitted, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pressed trousers. They were black to match his coat and his shiny boots. Ray had arrived that morning with the clothes and boots, telling him he had to look his best at the Cotillion. He looked down at himself, his crisp white shirt, his chokingly tight black bowtie… His aunt had said he would be the handsomest man at the Cotillion, that he would catch the eye of every woman there.
But he didn’t care
about every woman. He cared about one woman. A woman he’d tried to convince to attend. His belly twisted; the thought of seeing Joy making his stomach undulate with nervous apprehension. It would be both a joy and a sorrow to see her.
“Oh my,” someone beside him murmured in a hushed tone.
Flicking his gaze to see what had so astonished the older woman beside him, his whole world tilted at the sight of a most brilliant and breathtaking angel entering the ballroom.
As if conjured by ancient Celtic magic, Joy glided into the room, her face alight with excitement and yet there was a guarded, anxious stiffness to her shoulders. Her eyes darted about, taking in everything and everyone, as if searching.
For him? Nay. It wasn’t possible. She’d only come because he knew Ray had obligated her to attend—Ray could persuade a priest to swear if she really set her mind to it. Aye, he’d asked Joy to come, desperate for her to do so, but he doubted she’d come at his request. Why would she? She’d made her feelings for him clear… Friends. That single word made the bit of punch he’d imbibed sour in his stomach.
“She is beautiful,” Billy said from beside him, taking the words out of his mouth. And she was stunning. Joy was dressed in a floor-length gown in glimmering silvers and whites. Her glorious black hair had been swept back into a crown of splendor around her head. It gave her a regal bearing, like a queen deigning to grace their presence. And Lord but he felt honored to set eyes upon her.
“Aye.” Was all he could utter.
Ray appeared beside her husband. “Go ask her to dance, Seamus,” she urged, pushing at his arm. “She looks nervous, like she needs a familiar face to help...make her feel welcome.”
Seamus scoffed. “Then why dunna ye go ask her tae dance?” He sounded grouchy, like a wounded bear grunting and licking his hurt paw.
Ray squared her shoulders and turned him to human porridge with the heat of the glare she gave him. “Seamus Walker MacAdams, I never thought you were a yellow-bellied coward—scared of little ol’ Joy. She won’t bite ’cha!”
Sighing, Seamus fought the urge to tug at his hair which his aunt had helped him style into a presentable fashion. “I’m no’ scared o’ her, Ray. I want tae dance with her, hold her, kiss her—love her, but she only wants tae be friends. I dunna know if I have it in me tae be around her and no’ want more.”
Ray cocked her head and turned a warm, adoring gaze to her husband. Billy returned her gaze, and Seamus felt the strength of their love for one another. Finally, Ray turned back to Seamus.
“It’s the season of miracles, ya lummox. One dance won’t hurt. Take a chance, Seamus. Who knows, ya might get what you’ve been hopin’ for all along.” Ray’s eyes danced, as if she knew something no one else did. She often did. But she couldn’t know if his miracle would ever come.
He gazed across the room at Joy once again, and his heart jumped into his throat when her gaze met his. Her smile lit up the room.
As if propelled by an invisible hand at his back, Seamus took a step forward, then another. Ignoring the people and the movement around him. His focus on the woman who’d become his world with a single look. And he couldn’t understand the urgency driving him forward, the overwhelming push to be near her, to touch her. He only knew that something within him had changed. Everything had changed.
He stopped before her, gazing down at her upturned face. Her lush pink lips quirked up at the sides in a shy smile.
“Good evening, Seamus,” she breathed. “You are very handsome.”
Her compliment zipped through him, making the area around his heart tingle.
“Ye…are beyond words,” he murmured, desperate to slide a finger along the soft curve of her cheek.
She flushed, dipping her face. “I’m sure you can think of some words,” she said, laughing.
He nodded. “Aye. Beautiful. Lovelier than the brightest star…” He would have continued but the urge to hold her had become too strong. “Dance with me, lass?” he asked, holding out his hand. She looked at his hand then down at her own.
She was holding something; a small golden box.
“I would love to dance with you…but first…” Her flush deepened. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
Stunned, Seamus couldn’t believe his ears. What could Joy want to talk about?
“Aye,” he drawled, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. “There’s a gazebo out the side door. We can talk there if ye like.”
She smiled up at him and he offered her his arm. Without hesitation, she slipped her arm through his. He barely stopped himself from pulling her into him and moaning with the pleasure of her closeness.
Sidestepping chatting party-goers and moving through the room to the side door took less than five minutes. Once outside, Seamus took a deep breath, inhaling cool, crisp air in the hopes it would douse the flames raging in his blood.
He let her step into the gazebo first, and Joy took a seat on the bench facing the opening in the archway.
“Can we sit?” she asked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Please?”
He couldn’t deny her anything. Swallowing down his nerves, he sat beside her, his large frame making her seem so small, so delicate.
Steeling himself, he drawled, “What is it, lass?”
She didn’t speak immediately, only holding out the small box he’d noticed earlier.
“I have a gift for you, Seamus.”
The only gift I want is ye… But he didn’t say that out loud. He couldn’t.
Seamus blinked down at the box in her dainty hand, wondering if it were possible to hold a miracle in a box so small.
Joy held her breath; her whole plan hinged on this moment. On Seamus opening the box and accepting her gift. A gift she’d never thought to give anyone.
She’d been praying all day, begging God to give her the strength to do what she’d feared doing most: being vulnerable. Putting her dream of success on the line for something she deserved more… Love.
“Seamus…say something,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.
He cleared his throat, looking much too handsome in his fitted black coat that hugged every ridge and bulge of his muscles. “I dunna know what tae say, lass. A gift? Why did ye bring me a gift?” He sounded unsure, almost scared.
She’d done that to him. Made him pull away and shrink back because of her own fears. He’d been nothing but wonderful to her—a bit intimating in his intensity, but truly wonderful. Even now he was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, and she could see his large hands twitching, as if he wanted to reach out and touch her.
Joy closed her eyes against the indescribable desire to know what it felt like for Seamus to touch her. To kiss her again.
“It’s something I wanted you to have…” She held the box out. “Please.”
Swallowing again, Seamus reached out, his hands trembling, and took the box from her hand.
Lord, please… A sense of contentment filled her, as if the Lord had heard and answered. She smiled up at Seamus, hoping it would urge him on.
His hands still shaking, he pulled the bright red ribbon—ribbon Tilly helped her pick out—and let the ribbon fall into his lap. Slowly, he lifted the lid, his gaze flicking to her face before he looked down to examine the box’s contents.
Seamus’s breath caught. He stared into the box at the little crystal heart laying in a bed of red velvet. It was as though the world had taken a breath with him, holding it. The sounds in the ballroom died down, the sound of conversation ceased, it was only she and Seamus and what she had to say to him.
Taking a deep breath, she waited.
Long, painful heartbeats later, his gaze met hers, and her heartbeats seemed to stop altogether.
His voice, deep and harsh, carried across the empty space between them, emotion in every timbre. “What is this, lass?”
Her own hands trembling, she reached out, plucked the heart from the box and held it out to him.
“This
is my heart…” she began. “It’s fragile and much too human, but it warms quickly in your hand and…” She couldn’t look away from the stunning awe in his hazel eyes. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop the stammering. “I—I know it isn’t much, that you probably deserve so much more, but I—I want to give it to you. I want you to have it, Seamus. I can’t imagine giving it to anyone else—”
She had to stop blabbering because his mouth captured hers in a kiss that seared her soul. Her crystal heart grasped in her hand, she let him take control; his still shaking hands cupping her face, holding her in place for his passion. He tasted of Scotch whiskey and unabashed desire. It was a heady taste, one she’d never get enough of.
She didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there, drowning in one another, but when Seamus pulled away, she felt the loss of his warmth like a kick in the stomach.
“Lass…” he choked out, “I can only hope ye mean what I pray tae God ye mean…” He was peering down at her, hope shining in his beautiful eyes.
Sliding her hand over his cheek, feeling the coarseness of the stubble along his jaw, she sighed. “It means I love you, Seamus.” There, she said it. Now…she could only hope he felt the same.
He didn’t speak a word. He didn’t take a breath. He simply bent forward and pressed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, enveloped in the moment. It was the feeling of warmth and wetness that made her pull away.
“Seamus?” Stunned to silence by the tears trailing down his face, Joy watched in wonder. “Why are you crying, Seamus?”
In a blink, he pulled her into his arms, nearly crushing her. It was a welcome sensation; this man holding her in the strength of his arms.
“They are tears of joy, my love. My heart sings a joyful song,” he breathed into her hair. “Ye are the Christmas miracle I’ve been prayin’ for, for more than fifteen years.”
Shocked, Joy pressed her free hand against his chest. His heart was pounding. “I am?”
A Joyful Song: A Dry Bayou Brides Christmas Novella Page 8
