The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Brynn cringed, hating to think they knew about her pitiful relationship with her mother. “You’ve found me out. I’m not going to spend Thanksgiving with my mother. But I still have to go home. I have all kinds of work to do.”

  “Haven’t you been getting it done here? I thought that’s why you’ve been holed up so much lately.”

  “Well, I have. But the truth is, I’ve got a yen to get home.”

  “Not to pick at a scab, but isn’t this the time of year to be with family? And that’s how all of us regard you. You’re one of our own.”

  Brynn’s lips trembled. She had no defense against kindness. “I’m...not who you think I am.” Her eyelids flickered shut briefly. “I’ve deceived you all and once you learn the truth...you’ll all despise me.”

  “You mean because you’re not Gregory’s wife?”

  Brynn’s eyes flew open in shock. “You know?”

  “I guessed. I wasn’t positive until you confirmed it.”

  “How long have you known?” Brynn turned, pushing her hand through unruly curls. “How did you—”

  “Guess?” Miranda tilted her head. “It wasn’t anything, and it was everything. I know the love of a good woman can change a man, but from what you told us, Gregory’s transformation made Jekyll and Hyde sound dull. And much as I love my nephew, he couldn’t be as sensitive and bighearted as you made him out to be if he’d had a personal visitation from a saint. It’s just not in him. Of course, his mother believed it because she’s his mother. And she’s always seen him through a filtered lens, but then I guess it’s a good thing somebody does.”

  Brynn bent her head. “I want to say that I can explain, but I don’t think I can.”

  “Why don’t you try?”

  The story spilled from Brynn’s lips. At times she stumbled through the words, at others she nearly cried. When she finished, she was exhausted but oddly relieved. It had been a terrible strain, keeping the story to herself.

  Still her eyes filled with sadness as she looked at Miranda. “So I’m leaving, before I have to tell Matt the truth. I certainly can’t sign as a trustee for Frank’s medical trust.”

  “Why not?”

  Brynn stared at her, wondering if stress had caused Miranda to lose her hearing or her sense. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Like I said, you’re part of the family now.”

  “After what I just told you?”

  “You’re in love with a MacKenzie—you just picked the wrong brother to begin with.”

  This was unsteady ground. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t kid a kidder. I know how you feel about Matt.”

  “But...”

  “Just like you knew how I felt about Edward.”

  The stinging reminder echoed between them.

  “Even if that were true—” Brynn battled to steady her voice “—Matt would never be able to forgive me. I’ve deceived him...all of you. How could he live with that?”

  “Maybe you’re underestimating him.”

  “I won’t be around to find out. I’ve already made too big a mess of things.”

  Miranda’s lips firmed. “You’d be a fool to throw away his love. I know. I’m an expert.”

  Brynn worked nervous fingers, finally shoving them into her pockets. “I said too much about Edward—built up your hopes—interfered in something I didn’t know about—”

  “That’s neither here nor there. The point is I fled from love once and I’ve been paying for it ever since. Don’t walk away thinking you won’t spend your entire life looking back. Because you will.”

  “I just don’t know, Miranda”

  “Even though things haven’t worked out as I might have liked with Edward, this time it was real. Before, I dreamed about Neil’s love—built it into something impossible to match. And now I know that the real thing’s better than a dream.”

  “I do, too,” Brynn admitted. “I look at the pictures in the wedding album and I see strangers.” She lifted troubled eyes. “But that doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.”

  “I know we’ve been playing on your guilt, telling you how much the family needs you. The truth is—Matt needs you. He’s facing the biggest crisis of his life. I don’t think he can handle having you leave in the middle of it.”

  “But ultimately I’ll just hurt everyone that much more.”

  “We can’t think about ‘ultimately’—it’s all we can do to live through today. Can you give them that much more?”

  Brynn bent her head. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. You should be angry.”

  Miranda clasped Brynn’s shoulder. “Sometimes families aren’t born—they’re made. From love and hope and caring. You’ve shown all that for us—however things started. So, you see, you are one of our own.”

  “Oh, Miranda!”

  “Then you’ll stay?”

  Brynn swiped at her moist eyes. “You’re hard to refuse.”

  Miranda cleared her suspiciously gruff voice, then patted her hair—set in a softer style since she’d met Edward. Chasing away their tears, she grinned. “That’s what all the fellas say.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Frank MacKenzie looked exhausted but pleased as he settled into his own room at Eagle Point. The long journey from the critical-care unit to regular patient care, and finally home, had been an arduous one; yet he had never complained. Although a donor had not yet been found, he’d had surgery—a balloon procedure that had bought him time.

  And he was responding better to this surgery than his previous one, surprising everyone by returning home in less than two weeks.

  Everyone had hovered at first, but Frank had put a quick end to that. “I’m not at my best, but I’m also not at death’s door. You can quit fussing over me because it makes me think you’re all waiting in line to be the doorman. Now, can we act normal?”

  His irreverent words had startled them out of their oversolicitous behavior. And, things had returned to normal—or as close to it as possible, with the worry never far from their minds.

  Brynn almost confessed a dozen times, but Frank’s weakened condition, coupled with the hope on everyone’s faces, stopped her. She’d come too far to literally pull the plug on Frank.

  Restless, on the edge, she’d thrown herself into the preparations for opening day of the season, volunteering for every job, large or small. She supposed it was some sort of penance—or escape. But she couldn’t remain in her room, surrounded by her guilt.

  Although she gave her comic strip ample attention, each time she thought about her self-imposed hibernation, she cringed, then found another job to volunteer for. And as she worked she hoped she could forget the ever-growing tangle of lies.

  MIRANDA WAS BUSY MAKING last-minute changes, then approving the final Thanksgiving menu. Tomorrow was the biggest day of the year for Eagle Point. Ruth had turned the responsibility for the day’s celebrations over to Miranda, her own concern over Frank’s precarious condition paramount.

  Guests had been arriving all week, many of them the previous day. The lodge and all the cottages were packed. As were all the ski runs. Even though the season officially opened the following day, lifts were operational.

  The day had dawned beautifully. Clear, sunny, with an abundance of the greatest snow on earth. Powder fanatics had hit the slopes, their enthusiasm spilling over to the employees. Traditionally, it had been a day charged with hope and enthusiasm. Today was no different—except that Miranda’s hope centered around her brother.

  Since their father’s death he had been the constant in her life, the only man she’d been able to count on. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if she lost him. And despite his stopgap surgery, she was terrified that he’d lose this battle.

  Brynn knocked, then poked her head inside the office doorway. “Am I interrupting?”

  “Of course not.” Miranda studied Brynn’s pale face, the shadows that ringed her eyes, the worry that never left her expression. “I thought you were rest
ing.”

  Brynn slipped into the chair facing Miranda’s desk. “I can’t sleep.”

  None of them slept well these days. “You won’t help Frank by falling apart. Ruth is counting on us to keep things running smoothly.” Purposely Miranda gentled her voice, knowing the guilt that ate at Brynn. “Matt has everything under control, but she and Frank were always the glue that held everything together. I’m afraid you’ve been drafted without hope of leave.”

  “I like helping out. I guess I’m just overwhelmed by how fast everything is happening.” How quickly Matt had insisted on her signature. Papers she’d shakily signed, certain she was dooming herself with each stroke of the pen.

  “This isn’t the kind of family that sits on the sidelines. Once you’re a MacKenzie so to speak, you’re sucked in. After a while you forget the time when you weren’t a part of the family.”

  That was painfully true. “Have you heard any news about a donor?”

  “Not yet, but I know we’ll hear soon. Frank wasn’t meant to leave us this soon.” Her lips trembled before she firmed them. “He can’t abandon an old spinster like me.”

  Brynn’s heart went out to the woman who now ached from two fresh hurts; a woman who’d stood by Brynn even though she didn’t deserve it. “He won’t.”

  A sudden knock on the door startled them.

  “Come in,” Miranda called out.

  Edward West filled the doorway, shocking both women.

  Brynn recovered first, quickly rising from her chair. As Edward approached Miranda, Brynn darted toward the door. Glancing between them quickly, she disappeared.

  “Edward?” Miranda’s voice was shaky and she firmed it. “You should have told me you were coming for Thanksgiving. Reservations have been flying in. We’re all booked up.”

  “I found that out last week when I called. But I’m not here for Thanksgiving.”

  “You’re not?”

  “I would have been, but I couldn’t get a room. I’m here because of Frank.”

  Miranda’s voice quivered. “You are?”

  “I know how close you two are. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

  Hope trembled. “You didn’t?”

  “If you’ll come out from behind that desk I’ll show you.”

  In a moment she was in his arms, her head buried against his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back.”

  “Neither was I.”

  She lifted her head cautiously, studying his face.

  He took her hand, absently encircling each finger. “I wasn’t sure I was ready to let go of Sylvia’s memory. We were married for thirty-two years. It’s not easy to shut the door on such an important part of your life. Then I told myself I could just come out for Thanksgiving—that it didn’t have to mean anything—and I found that I was too late to get a reservation. I called yesterday and heard about Frank. I didn’t want to be too late again. And I don’t mean for a room.”

  Miranda wanted to simply accept his words. But she couldn’t. “I can’t keep having...interludes. I care about you, more than I thought I ever could. But I can’t bear to keep watching you walk away, taking little pieces of me with you until there’s nothing left.”

  Edward planted his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to walk away. That’s why I’m here, to ask if you’ll consider having me...for the rest of our lives.”

  Miranda could hardly hear over the thundering in her heart and the joy singing in her consciousness. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  “I’m asking you to be my wife. I love you, Miranda.”

  Their kiss was a seal of commitment, and the fluttering promise of tomorrow.

  Watching through the glass door of Miranda’s office, Brynn found a tear trembling in her eyes. A hopeless romantic, she rejoiced in the happiness she saw shining in their faces, grateful her interference hadn’t cost Miranda this well-deserved joy.

  Each MacKenzie had found a special niche in her affections. Aching with the knowledge of how empty she would be without those connections, Brynn turned away, hoping this holiday would truly bring a Thanksgiving for the family. Knowing that what she wished for would mean Gregory’s return and her subsequent unveiling, she looked for the courage to face both.

  BRYNN STARED IN fascination as the trail groomers defied the darkness to smooth the trails, tilling and moving snow, leveling the bumps, and covering the bare spots. The operation would go on all night as they groomed each trail before morning so that the skiers would wake to picture-perfect runs.

  But now the grooming machine was completing the steep grade that Brynn was observing—me one that would be used for night skiing.

  Surface hoar crystals glimmered in the oblique light. As Brynn watched, euphoric skiers lined up at the top of the run. With headlamps beaming they began their descent, chasing one another through the sparse pines, around the curves and over the creek crossings.

  The moon rose over the resort, the ail-encompassing soft white light adding its extraordinary glow. Torchlights crystallized in the air, outlining the winding trail.

  Moonlight powder-skiing.

  It was enchanting, it was awesome. It was romantic.

  Brynn shivered in the evening air, wishing for a strong, warm body to be seated next to hers. And it wasn’t just anybody’s body she wanted. She wanted one particular man to share this aura of romance.

  As though in response to her silent bidding, a shadow darkened the bench she sat on. An accelerated heartbeat told her it was Matt. Lifting her eyes, she beckoned him to join her.

  As he did, her loneliness vanished.

  Matt was quiet, watching the gentle dance of the skiers, their sure waltz as they descended the slope. “I never get tired of watching this,” he finally said. “In some ways it’s better than being part of it.”

  “What’s night skiing like?” she asked, wanting to hear his voice, to hold it close.

  “When the moon’s full, the light refracts on the cratered beacon and it drifts over the mountainside, making it seem brighter than a summer day.”

  Her eyes smiled for her. “That sounds wonderful...very poetic.”

  Matt held her gaze. “If the moon sinks above the cliff, we ski blind. Not so wonderful. And sometimes we seem like the shadows of ghosts.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “But mostly it’s like flying in your sleep.”

  “That sounds nearly as difficult as catching stars.”

  His tawny eyes roved over her face, resting on the bow of her mouth, then searching for the telltale pulse at her throat. “And as invigorating.”

  “Do many things invigorate you?” she asked, urged on by the full moon to be daring.

  His gaze zeroed in on hers. “More things than you could know.”

  She took her heart and placed it in his hands. “You might be surprised at what I know...and what I want.”

  Pain obviously battled with desire. “We can’t always have what we want.”

  “Even if we want it badly enough?” she whispered, only a breath away from him.

  “Sometimes that makes it more impossible.”

  The hard line of his body pressed into hers, his muscular thighs comforting and tantalizing her at the same time. She wanted to shout the truth, flail at the unfairness of their situation. Instead she tilted her head, allowing herself the pleasure of resting it on his shoulder, drawing comfort from his presence.

  Unable to stop himself, Matt stroked the sweep of her long, dark hair. In his mind he saw her silhouetted in the moonlight, her naked alabaster body belonging to him. Bending to breathe in the scent of her hair, he knew those dreams would remain in his thoughts—just as she would remain forever out of reach.

  Snow fell gently from the sky, giant flakes that brushed their skin, collected on the slope, dusting the skiers as they wove down the course.

  Matt watched for the opening-night fireworks he knew would start momentarily. A burst of color suddenly flared, followed immediately by others, splashing across all the
quadrants of the sky. The falling stars and ribbons were brilliantly defined at first. Then they blurred with the falling snow, creating slanted rainbows, fractured blooms.

  Watching pyrotechnics while it snowed was a rare event—one Matt had hoped he would share with Brynn. He could see the beauty through her eyes...and in her eyes.

  The fireworks continued to light up the sky, sounding off the silent cliffsides, echoing their unspoken thoughts—and illuminating their need.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The morning of Thanksgiving Day at Eagle Point lived up to all its promise. Excited skiers clattered down the stairs, filled the dining room for an early breakfast, then attacked the freshly dusted slopes. While no one was glued to a television set watching the Macy’s Day parade, there was no mistaking it was “turkey day.”

  The tang of ginger, cloves and cinnamon from baking pumpkin pies floated out to tantalize the appetite. The chef and his staff had been baking all night. Rows of turkeys were lined up on the counters like plucked soldiers waiting their turn. Onions and celery sautéing in butter promised dishes of well-seasoned dressing. Several pounds of cranberries came to a boil, ready to be added to a rum-raisin concoction. Flaky croissants, dinner rolls and loaves of bread lent their yeasty aroma to the ambience.

  Accustomed to a pared-down version of the holiday, Brynn was charmed by all the preparations and bustle. While she doubted the Pilgrims boasted skis, state-of-the-art boots, and designer ski wear, there was a true Thanksgiving spirit.

  The family gathered in midafternoon for their celebration, allowing enough time for the lunch crowd to disperse and plenty of time before exhausted skiers gave in to the encroaching darkness and their appetites. Many of the hearty revived on dinner and then returned for night skiing. And the MacKenzies wanted time for the family in between.

  A golden-brown bird decorated the center of the table and all of the accompaniments crowded every other available inch. No employees assisted in serving the meal since it was also an Eagle Point tradition for the employees and their families to congregate in the large banquet room for an identical dinner. A skeleton staff kept the main dining room operational, but even they took turns dropping in at the employee celebration.