by Freda, Paula
Jasmine's sigh was one of relief. "Take me home, Michael, please."
CHAPTER TEN
Michael sat on the couch watching the extended World Series on his wall-mounted television. The baseball game was in full swing, but if someone had asked him what inning or who was winning, he wouldn't know what to say. At Jasmine's request, they were no longer dating. He felt surprised that not seeing her any longer, didn't bother him. What did bother him, was remembering the pain in Jessie's eyes when she saw him at the mall with Jasmine.
The crowd on the television set cheered wildly. Someone made a homerun. Michael tried to determine which team, but no use. His mind wasn't on the game. All he could focus on was the memory of Jessie telling him she'd fallen in love with him, and the unhappiness he'd unwittingly caused her. Unwittingly, because he'd kept to their bargain of a platonic relationship to help them restore their self-confidence and the ability to move on with their lives. Two years ago, he'd made a mistake falling in love with Macey who was still in love with her former boyfriend. They were married now, and she was expecting their first child.
Michael groaned with frustration. He turned off the television. He should call Jessie to see how she was doing. But that might only reinforce her feelings for him.
He'd told Jasmine that Jessie wasn't drop-dead gorgeous or glamorous, but that was mostly because Jessie lived in jeans and t-shirts. He hadn't mentioned the night he escorted her to a formal concert with her parents. The word beautiful didn't do her justice. She'd piled her hair up in brown silky curls at the crown. Her satiny blue-grey, princess-bodiced gown, draped softly about her hips down to her toes. Jessie was a gracious young woman, kind and generous, honest and worthy of true love. She'd been hurt cruelly by Walt, who had never loved her, and only married her bigamously to gain access to the Driscolls' good favor, his devious plan to become their foreman, privy to whatever benefits available to someone married to the daughter of one of the Driscolls' best friends.
Michael ran a nervous hand through his hair. If he asked her to marry him because he felt sorry for her, that would cause her more unhappiness, and irreparable damage should he find he was incapable of loving her completely and in earnest. Yet he had to do something to help her. He thought of some friends, morally righteous, good-natured, boyhood friends, who would be willing to date her, and fall in love with her. In her present depressed state, she'd scoff at his attempts as handing her a few crumbs of comfort. No, whatever he did had to be sincere, and involve only himself. He'd have to take the chance and ask her out again with an earnest relationship in mind. He wouldn't lie. He'd tell her the truth that he wanted to discover if he could love her. He already liked her, enormously. Maybe love and desire were around the corner and his heart wasn't aware of them yet.
Michael chided himself. Desire? Of course he'd desired her. He was a man, she was a lovely young woman. Especially when he was close to her, on the beach, with so much skin showing. He'd had to hold back, remind himself he was a gentleman and a Christian. Plunge into the cold water when necessary.
Jessie deserved better than satisfying a biological impulse. She deserved his love, given freely and wholly. She had so many of the qualities he sought in a woman, and more. She was lovely, honest, sweet, gentle, giving, trustworthy. I'm a fool! Michael told himself. Any good man in his right mind would beg for her love. And she's already in love with me. Why do I hesitate giving her a chance? If she'll agree to give me a chance.
He missed her company. These past months he'd been miserable, worrying about her, wishing he was with her, giving her cause to smile, laughing with her, making plans for their next date, seeing the joy on her face, the light in her eyes. Seeing her happy, made him happy.
Hadn't he felt that with Macey, before she broke up with him?
No, he admitted truthfully. There had always been something he couldn't identify hovering above, stopping him from feeling complete contentment. And that something was her lingering love she shared with Cal.
Macey, he thought wistfully. It dawned on him he hadn't missed her in a long time. Actually, since he'd begun seeing Jessie. Jessie. A warmth flooded him. And he knew, like opening a heavy curtain, drawn shut the night before for a good night's sleep, and the sunlight streaming through the windowpanes, flooding the room and waking you to the full knowledge of a new day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The landline phone on her kitchen counter rang. Jessie put down her spoon. She wasn't that hungry anyway. As was her habit, she listened to the automated voice announce the name of the caller. "M. Sands." Michael? Had she heard right? She checked the ID screen on her answering machine. She pondered not answering, letting the machine take the message. After the fourth ring, her automated voice announced, "Can't get to the phone right now. Please leave your name and phone number."
"Jessie, please if you're there, pick up. It's important."
Must be important, she thought, to call her so early in the morning; catch her before she left for work. Except for seeing him at the mall, arm in arm with a beautiful girl, she hadn't heard from him for months, and didn't expect to hear from him ever again. Michael was an honest man; he would never lead her on, even out of compassion. Something must truly be wrong. Someone in the family ill, or, God forbid, an accident.
She left the table and reached for the phone. The line clicked off. Quickly she redialed his number. He picked up instantly.
"Jessie?"
"Yes, Michael, what's wrong? Are you ... is everyone okay?"
"Yes, everyone's fine. Sorry if I sounded frantic. I-I've had a rough four weeks."
"Have you been ill?"
"No, not physically."
She silenced, not sure of what to say next. Waiting for him to say more."
"Jessie, I need to talk to you ... desperately."
His plea, "...desperately," gave her pause. Something must truly be wrong. "All right, Michael, of course. Whatever I can do to help. Do you want to come here, or do you want me to meet you somewhere?"
"If you don't mind, I'll come to your apartment. I need the privacy."
"Michael, please tell me what's wrong."
"I will, as soon as I arrive." He clicked off.
Jessie bit her lip worriedly. What could be wrong, that he needed privacy? Perhaps he was in trouble with the law, or something terrible had happened to him. Quickly she called in sick to the bank. She put on the pantsuit she'd laid out the night before to wear for work. She much preferred t-shirt and jeans. That, of course, wouldn't do for her position as a typist at the bank.
It felt impossible to sit still. Coffee enough for two remained hot in the carafe over the warming plate. She took another mug and a teaspoon and placed it beside hers, along with the creamer and the sugar bowl.
He'd called from his apartment in Manhattan. It would take him at least two hours to reach Garrison.
What felt like an eternity later, the doorbell rang. She peered through the security eyehole. It was Michael. Quickly, she opened the door. He looked haggard, disheveled, as though he'd left his apartment in a hurry without shaving or combing his hair. Jessie reached for his arm and pulled him in. "Oh my God, what's wrong?"
Michael studied her from head to toe.
I don't look that great myself, she thought. She hadn't been sleeping well and lost a few pounds.
"Everything is wrong," he answered.
"What's wrong?"
"Have you missed me?" he asked.
"Michael, let's not go there, please. Tell me what's the matter. You look as though you've been ill."
"Jessie, I can't stand it any longer."
"Michael, sit down at the table. I have some hot coffee ready for you. If you haven't eaten yet, I'll make you some breakfast. Eggs, toast?
He took her hand in his. She hoped he didn't hear her heartbeat quickening or the tremor coursing through her. She mustn't give any indication of how much she had missed him.
"I'll take some coffee, if you sit down beside me. I need to talk to
you."
"All right, sure." She led him to the table and poured him a cup.
He sipped at the hot brew. "Yes, I guess I needed that. Thank you."
"Okay, so what is wrong?"
"I told you: everything. I can't stand it any longer.
The ache in her soul and her patience wearing thin, she blurted, "Oh, for Pete's sake, what can't you stand any longer?"
"Lord, Jessie, but you are beautiful!" Michael exclaimed, her wide-eyed gaze so innocent, so worried about him, telling him how much she still cared for him.
Softly he said, "Being away from you. Missing your smile, your face, your eyes, that startled, puzzled look on your face that turns my insides to jelly. I miss you, everything about you, Jessie. I guess I needed time away from you to realize how much a part of my life you've become. Am I too late, Jessie? Have you discovered you can get along fine without me?"
He couldn't mean it. He missed the habit of their good times together. She told him as much. He clasped her arms and drew her to him, so close she could barely breathe. She felt his warm breath as his lips caressed the side of her face.
"Don't tell me it's habit, Jessie. I received ten calls from women I'd dated in the past. Went out with a few of them, almost got engaged to one, lovelier than you, fun to be with, sweet-tempered. But all I saw each time they tried to get close to me ... was you, Jessie. You, with your simple smile, earnest, sad, lonely gaze, and lips I've yearned to kiss from the day I met you again at your parents' home. Tell me I'm not too late, that you haven't found someone else, or decided what you felt for me was just infatuation on the rebound."
Stunned, wanting to believe, but terrified it was only him missing the good times on his rebound, Jessie lifted her chin to face him. "Michael, you can't mean—"
Her half-finished reply was enough for him to catch her meaning that she daren't believe he had fallen in love with her. He bent his head and ardently pressed his lips to hers, not daring more that might frighten her, recalling what she once confided to him about Walt never asking, just taking.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips. "No habit, no rebound, all new, sweet Jessie."
Reason spoke to her heart. What are you waiting for? Kiss him back.
For the first time in her life, Jessie listened to reason.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jessie listened to reason, but all the same, she made Michael wait to give herself completely to him, even after he proposed. This time she had to be sure. She couldn't risk being hurt again. And Michael, the gentleman he was, understood. He'd wait forever, he told her.
He didn't have to. Within six months, they stood in front of the Priest, exchanging their vows in their bride and groom finery, with their parents and friends watching joyously behind them in the church pews.
The reception, the music, the good wishes and good food, the dancing, all that she'd missed the first time with Walt, at last all hers and Michael's, the tired couple snuck away from the reception hall to their newly bought home on the outskirts of Manhattan.
Michael opened the garage door remotely and drove in, closing it behind them. They left the car and entered the hallway that led to the inside door to their home, their nest, he liked to call it. All at once, Jessie felt unexplainably shy. She thought, perhaps it was the affects of the champagne and the laughter and frolicking wearing off. She glanced up at her husband, her real husband, hoping he didn't mistake her sudden timid stance for doubt. His words confirmed her suspicion. "Jessie, do you still doubt my love for you?"
"No, sweetheart. You've more than proven your feelings for me. I think I'm feeling scared ... scared of not living up to your expectations."
Michael smiled. "Oh sweet Jessie, how do you think I feel? Wondering how you'll react to my lovemaking after what you went through with Walt. It's not so much about the biological act, but what happens before and after. It's about showing how much we care for each other with tenderness and sincere affection. That's the part of lovemaking that endures the years, aging, the bad times and the good times, sorrows and joys, all that we promised to share as we made our vows in God's presence and that of our families."
Jessie felt the timidness slide away and she wrapped her arms around her husband and leaned her head against his chest. "I love you, Michael Sands. Have I told you that, lately?" she asked, tenderly.
His warm laughter and the happiness she read in his eyes as he swept her into his arms and carried her over the threshold, soothed and comforted her, erasing any lingering worries about their coming together as man and wife, with tender ardent love that submits and conquers, without regret or question. True love that lasts a lifetime, and beyond.
♥♥
*****************************
OTHER BOOKS AND E-BOOKS
by Paula Freda
also known as
Marianne Dora Rose
Meet Michael Sands for the first time in
Wild Yellow Clover and Honey Wheat Sage
(Macey and Cal's story)
Backcover Blurb
Tanner and Linda hoped that their daughter had finally learned her lesson, when because of her ill-placed stubbornness, she was almost killed in a cave-in.
Morally at heart, Macey is a decent girl, when steered in the right direction, away from her wild side, sweet as clover and as potentially toxic. Nearing her twenty-first birthday, her habit of developing unrequited crushes has taken its toll. She has been fortunate the groups she hung with were decent young people. No one regarded her seriously, or took advantage of her vulnerability. Macey was pretty, blonde, slender, with attractive curves. But she distanced prospective suitors with her flirtatious over anxiousness to form a relationship the moment she met someone who fit her idea of the perfect hero and offered her a friendly smile. The few who fell for her first, but did not fit her view of the perfect physical specimen, she steered away from, or with the utmost kindness, firmly rejected them, even Cal, the Driscolls' younger son, a fine young man, and new foreman on their ranch. He saw past the silky blonde hair, the pretty face and slender form, and the curves, and the ill-placed stubbornness. He saw into her heart, morally and intrinsically kind. She just had not figured out where she fit in. He wished it was in his arms, but she didn't want him. If he'd been as handsome as his older brother, Tom, and as smart, teaching History at Montana Tech, she'd be his wife by now. But, no matter, he thought. The Driscoll stubbornness ran in his veins. He would protect her, appreciated or not, at least until she found someone who saw her as he did, and captured her heart....
Excerpt 1.
.Another man approached the table. This one was the youngest of the three. He had blonde wavy hair, and beautiful blue eyes. And they were gazing at her with deep interest. "She has grown into a beautiful young woman, Cal." He bent and took the hand she had snatched from the Englishman. "You don't remember me, do you? But you were very young when my parents and I spent a week at the Driscoll's ranch. I only saw you a couple of times when your father worked as foreman at the Bar LB."
Macey rummaged through her memories. Her father had brought her down to the Bar LB on several occasions. But she had no memory of the blonde Adonis standing before her and holding her hand in a tender clasp. "I don't remember you at all," she said honestly.
He smiled, and Macey swallowed.
He said, "I know, we were both very young, and I didn't take well to strangers. I'm Michael Sands. My parents and Cal's parents have been good friends for many years."
EXCERPT 2:
... “Excuse me.” Michael said. “May I,” he asked Cal.
Neither she, nor Cal, had noticed him approaching them.
She felt Cal tense, then relax. “Of course,” he said. He let go. Macey experienced the weirdest sensation — a sudden void. But Michael taking her into his arms, redirected her thoughts. He fit her image of the perfect man, and the way he looked at her as they danced, gave her hope. Admiration. That's what she saw on his face. Admiration from someone who fit her image of a
man she could fall in love with, someone who sent warm tingling flashes up her spine, as he twirled her under his arm and bent her backwards to place a kiss on her lips.
It was a memorable moment in her life, spoiled only with something she caught sight of from the corner of her eye. Cal standing at the perimeter of the dance floor, watching, resigned, turning away, dreams shattered.
♥♥
*****************************
When Lexie accepted Chris' proposal, she felt no doubt. At her father's insistence they agreed to wait at least until she had finished college, especially if she planned to help Chris with his dream of one day owning a horse ranch of his own. Chris had opted for a trade and agricultural school, learning how to farm and breed horses. Perhaps if they had attended the same college, she might be Chris' wife today, but the distance and the separations, and the new world that Lexie suddenly found herself in, was too much of a distraction. Suddenly there were handsomer and smarter young men who wanted to date her, despite the engagement ring she wore. After a while she grew tired of having to flash the ring in their faces, not to mention she wanted to date them. Her world now included a much vaster realm than the two ranches and small schools in which she had grown up. On the evening of her graduation, with her parents and Chris present, she broke off her engagement and broke his heart along with it.
Now, two years later, living in New York and dating Jim, her boss' son, Lexie has serious doubts about her present relationship. Faced with her mother's discerning wit, she can no longer deny the truth. "Mom, I miss my home, the country, our way of life at the ranch, the snow-capped mountains, the wide open spaces, riding the fields, the prairies and hiking the rolling hills heavy with spruce. And I miss..."
