He brushed his lips with mine again. “Exactly,” he breathed.
I smiled through lips that wanted to touch his one more time. Drew in a breath though my heart continued to monopolize my chest. “Thanks for seeing me to the airport,” I said for lack of conscionable thought. “And for . . . everything else. You’ve been very kind.”
With a squeeze to my hand, he held silent, his eyes running over my face. “My pleasure,” he said with a meek smile. Then, turning loose of my hand, he handed me the carry-on and stepped to the side. I was devastated. No, “I’ll call you.” “We’ll stay in touch.” Or “Be safe.” None of the usual insincere farewells meant to make parting feel less final. I didn’t even have his cell number. He hadn’t asked for mine. That was it.
The end.
I didn’t want to but I returned his smile and forced my feet through the dividers. What choice did I have? Fall at his feet, cry—plead? I wondered if he was watching me go, and if not, if he’d at least turned for one last glimpse before I disappeared. An invisible force pulled at my shoulder, urging my chin to turn, to see, but I resisted as my fellow travelers filed in behind me, further separating Daniel and me. Sending my eyes to floor, I felt the sizzle of his kiss fading with each footfall, the line inching forward like a string of condemned prisoners.
“Marlie!”
Stopping short of handing the security guard my ticket and ID, I scanned the crowd. Maybe it’d been my imagination? But as I turned back to the front, from the corner of my eye, I saw the throng of faces parting for a man in a suit excusing his way through.
“What’s going on? Did I forget something?” I questioned as if the hope that he would come after me had never crossed my mind.
Daniel stumbled past the last few irritated travelers.
“No, you didn’t, but I did.” He was out of breath as he reached me. “Marlie, we need to talk.”
Alarm stirred with anticipation. “What? Right now? I’m late for my flight,” I said glancing toward the security guard. “Can’t you just call me?”
Daniel shook his head. “No, I can’t call you. What I need to say can’t be said on the phone,” he insisted, taking my arm with a gentle nudge. “Just give me a minute.”
“Okay,” I conceded, allowing Daniel to lead me over to a wall of windows.
“Marlie, you can’t leave . . . I mean, I don’t want you to leave.”
I didn’t want to leave either but how could I stay? Not that I didn’t appreciate him running after me but what was he thinking? That I could just hang around Nashville for a few more days?
“Daniel, I have to go. I have to be back at work tomorrow. I can’t afford to lose my job. I have bills to pay,” I explained.
“I know you do, but if you get on that plane,” he pointed down the terminal, “we’ll never see each other again.” His eyes turned regretful. “Not like this anyway.”
“Like what, exactly?” I searched his expression. Panic . . . sadness . . . resolve? I couldn’t be sure. “I don’t understand,” I said, trying to work out what he meant while reminding myself that my plane would be boarding in five minutes and I still had to get through security.
Daniel looked out over the tarmac, closed his eyes before opening them again and focusing on mine. “Marry me.”
His words hung in the air a beat while I thought I’d just heard him ask me to marry him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right,” I said, measuring each word.
“You heard me just fine. I asked you to marry me.”
I snorted. “Is this some sort of joke? Because I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. As you well know, I’ve had about all the practical joking I can handle for a while.”
Daniel looked impatient. “Do I strike you as the kind of man who would engage in a practical joke of this kind, in the middle of a crowded airport?” he said, sparing the onlookers a glance.
It was a rhetorical question I knew, but I answered anyway. “No.”
Laying a hand on each of my shoulders, he claimed my complete attention. “Marlie, I’m proposing to you,” he reiterated.
I shrugged out of his grip. “All right, I heard you,” I said, drawing the words out as long as I could, giving myself a moment to think.
He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would throw caution to the wind and propose to a stranger in a fit of passion. Not that there’d been much passion. We’d shared a few kisses, a few dances, a night in the same condo, and one meal. But by the crease in his brow, the persistence in his voice, he appeared to be serious. This didn’t make any sense. Was he suffering from some sort of psychotic break causing him delusions that I was someone else? His late wife, maybe? I assessed him for the usual symptoms: labored breathing, inconsistent thoughts or speech, erratic behavior. He was out of breath but he’d been running. Erratic behavior? Definitely. How could his actions be anything but?
My training kicked in. “Give me one good reason why I should take this proposal seriously?” I said, challenging his irrational actions using calm, deliberate speech.
“Because we would make a good team, you and I.” He motioned to me, then to himself. “You’re smart and funny with a fresh perspective, which quite frankly I could use right now. Think about all the amazing things we could accomplish together.”
While I appreciated him thinking of me as smart and funny, it was his use of words like, “amazing things” and “accomplish” that gave me pause. Not exactly the romantic language a man generally used to propose. He sounded like he needed a personal assistant not a wife, and I was about to say as much when what he said next cut straight to my heart.
“Because I need a wife who will ground me, who tells me what she really thinks and not what she thinks I want to hear.” He stepped closer, drew the back of his finger down my cheek. “Because I want you in my bed every night when I come home, and at my breakfast table in the mornin’. Because my boys need a momma—” he paused, his voice turning pensive “—and because I believe you need them, too.”
His reasons, so heartfelt, so true, fell from his eyes, pleading with me to take him seriously. But my common sense pushed back with enough force to have me saying, “Daniel, those are all good reasons for us to get to know each other, but marriage?”
He took both my hands in his and whispered. “Yes.”
“Why?”
He licked his lips, suppressed a weary smile. “Because you’re too sensible of a woman to quit her job, leave her family and her home, and move across the country for anythin’ less.”
The lucidity of his sincere sentiment gave way, once again, to nonsense. “But not so sensible that I would agree to marry a man I’ve not even known for twenty-four hours?”
Daniel tightened his grip on my hands. “Remember last night at the table, the question about love at first sight?” I nodded. “When I sat down at that table you were the first woman I saw and the last one I noticed,” he said, and I couldn’t help but feel flattered.
He’d been watching me throughout the meal while I hadn’t given him a second look, hadn’t even noticed him or thought him attractive until he’d asked me to dance. Then again, I’d been distracted by my disdain for Paul.
“Your answers impressed me,” he continued. “I know this sounds crazy, but I fell for you right then and there.”
“My answers?” I repeated, thinking back to what had gone on at the table. It had only been the night before but it felt like days, or even weeks, ago. “Are you talking about the game?”
His tone became more insistent. “I know what you’re thinkin’, but I’m not tryin’ to hide any serious character flaws, nothin’ twisted or depraved at least.” He stopped and shook his head, frustrated, like what he wanted to say wasn’t coming out right. “I haven’t felt this way about a woman in a long time.”
It took my besieged brain a moment to connect the dots but when it did, the trail ended with one conclusion—Gentry. Daniel thought I was the woman to replace his late wife. My me
mory looked back at her picture. Sure, I’d entertained a romantic interest in him, but could someone like me ever fill the shoes of an elegant, refined, never-licked-jelly-from-her-fingers or spooned-a-mountain-of-sugar-into-her-coffee woman like Gentry?
Daniel spoke again. “Look Marlie, we could take six months, or six years, gettin’ to know each other if that would make you feel better. But we both know at the end of that time we would end up right back here.”
“Right where?”
Taking my face in his hands, his lips sat suspended within reach of mine. “With me beggin’ you to marry me,” he said, and dropped a gentle kiss to my lips.
His kiss—so welcome, so perfect—sent a feeling of reassurance straight to my heart. The feeling swelled until my sense of reason could only conclude that he was sane, and it didn’t matter that I wasn’t sophisticated like his late wife. He knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was me. Love at first sight. Every woman’s dream was playing out right here, right now, and with me in the starring role. The response I couldn’t find got tangled with the breath hung up in my throat. Peeling my gaze from his, I studied the world beyond the window. Workers scurried to and fro. Carts overflowing with luggage sped to make plane changes, dodging jetliners rolling to destinations I couldn’t imagine, under the haze of a spring sky.
The safe decision would be to turn away from Daniel and board the plane bound for San Diego. From there I’d go home to my empty house, to my clients that would, more often than not, reoffend, to the life I’d always known. Security. The life I now knew would no longer be good enough—every day wondering if I’d passed up my last chance for happiness.
Daniel spoke again. “Look, sugar, I’m not sayin’ that I will be the perfect husband. As a matter of fact, I’ll likely forget your birthday and our anniversary every now and again, and most nights I won’t even make it home for supper.”
A tear pushed its way from my eye and rolled down my cheek. “That’s okay,” I whispered, wiping it away.
“But I can guarantee you that I will never belittle you; never be unfaithful,” he promised with a hopeful smile. “And you can be assured that I will make love to you as many times and as often as you will allow me to for the rest of our lives.”
Chapter Four
One Year Later
“Sugar.” Daniel’s shoulder brushed mine as he brought his lips to my ear, his breath warm and moist on my neck “You’ve hardly said a word all evenin’. Is everything all right?”
A shy smile tweaked my lips as my gaze swept the elegantly minimal decorations. Flickering candles peeked from boughs of simple greenery. Twinkling lights swaged along the top of the tent cast an amber glow over the fifty or so guests, the men stiff in custom-fitted tuxedos, the women dazzling in enough wealth to feed a small third-world country. Gorham sterling silver fanned away from Limoges antique china like a road map for the dinner to come. Waterford crystal flutes for champagne, wine and sparkling water sent diamonds of reflected light shivering across the Irish heirloom linens cascading over round table tops.
I would have gone for a more casual, earthy look with less sparkle, only no one had asked me. I’d asserted my opinion of course, but who knew that Gerbera daisies and white lilies were white-trash wedding flowers? My suggestion to use hydrangeas had been met with less offense but then dismissed without further explanation. What did a psychiatric social worker know about planning a proper Southern wedding?
I turned to Daniel, my lips touching his. “Everything’s perfect,” I said, because it was the truth.
An hour ago, I’d married the man of my dreams. How could it matter that I knew practically no one in the room and had nary a say in the planning of my own wedding? It wasn’t Daniel’s fault his mother and sister felt an incessant need to micromanage everyone around them—all the time.
“I don’t mean to sound cliché, but I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.”
Daniel’s dark blue gaze took in mine with a hint of irony. “Cliché or not, but by association that would make me the luckiest man in the world,” he said, the lines around his eyes folding into his olive skin.
Reaching over, he fingered one of the curls hanging loose from my updo. The stylist had wrangled my hair into a perfect jumble of soft ringlets, dotted with delicate white flowers.
“You’ve hardly touched your soup. Don’t you like lobster bisque?” he asked.
I looked down at the broth faintly steaming from the bowl in front of me. I’d never tasted lobster bisque. I picked up my bullion spoon.
“I’m just so overwhelmed by the wedding and everything that I forgot I was supposed to be eating.” I dipped the spoon in, scooped up a chunk of white flesh, and brought it to my lips. But before I had a chance to slurp it down, a low roar of laughter erupted from the table of teens next us.
Glancing over, I watched as the faces of Daniel’s twin sons reddened with the snickers they were holding back. Bridger and Bodie had only been eleven when their mother died. Though I’d been to Nashville more than a half dozen times in the last year, I knew very little about them. They were cordial to me when their father was around and all but ignored me when he wasn’t, which made it even harder for me to tell them apart.
Daniel shot them a look of censure. Bridger straightened (at least I think it was Bridger since he was the eldest and quicker to behave than Bodie), cleared his throat, and elbowed the arm of his brother. Bodie’s gaze lit briefly on his father, the devious smile on his lips easing slightly. Both boys had their father’s gentle smile, and though I’d never known her, I was keenly aware they’d inherited their mother’s brown eyes.
The soup hovering beneath my waiting lips had gone cold with my hesitation. I dropped the spoon back to my bowl. A moment later, a member of the catering staff reached in from my right to remove the bisque, replacing it with a plate of spring greens scattered with sugar-crusted almond slivers, plump raspberries, and tossed in a berry vinaigrette.
As the wait staff worked their way around the table, Anna-Beth leaned my way. “I can’t believe you got married before me,” she said for about the tenth time today, her lips pushed out into a full-blown pout.
I’d first met Anna-Beth in the dorms at San Diego State University. Angry with her father for registering her at Lipscomb without consulting her first, she’d taken off for the west coast determined to teach him a lesson by marrying a California liberal. Unfortunately for Anna-Beth, SDSU wasn’t exactly the place a respectable woman went to find a man willing to settle down; a matrimonial quest that continued to elude her.
“I’m happy for you and all, but I really didn’t see this comin’. You’ve never even cared ’bout gettin’ married before.”
“Just because I didn’t whine all the time about finding a husband, like some people, doesn’t mean I wasn’t interested,” I said, brushing off her stupefaction. “And I don’t understand you anyway. First you take off after college to join the FBI and then you quit to start med school. Honestly Anna-Beth, if you were really serious about marriage I’d think you’d have picked a career path that was more conducive to relationships.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Speakin’ of family, how does yours feel ’bout missin’ your weddin’? My momma would never talk to me again if I got married without her sobbin’ and carrin’-on in the front row.”
I looked away to hide the emotion staining my eyes. “I’m sure they would have liked to be here too, but they understand, especially since it will be another six months before they can be state-side again,” I explained, a prick of guilt snagging the trail of my words.
It bothered me more than I wanted to admit that they weren’t here. But with the Tennessee State Legislature back in session, and the increased time constraints added to Daniel’s already busy schedule at his record company, he’d been anxious to put an end to our long-distance relationship. And since I was unwilling to move in with him until we were married, we’d both decided it would be best to go ahead with the wedding.
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br /> “And my sister would be here if she could. But as you know, she’s not the least bit happy about me marrying a man she thinks I hardly know, not to mention moving hundreds of miles away. And since her baby came a full six weeks early, she couldn’t come see for herself how happy I am.” I lifted a shoulder. “So I guess you’re the only family I have here today.”
Anna-Beth patted my hand with a sympathetic smile. “And Daniel’s family. We’re all your family now, you know?” she said, and I wished I could believe it.
Sure Anna-Beth was like a sister, and since she and Daniel were cousins I supposed that officially made us cousins-in-law, but Daniel’s family? They seemed as distant as they’d been the day he’d first introduced us.
Anna-Beth gave me an inquiring look. “How are you gettin’ on with his momma?”
My gaze drifted across the table to my mother-in-law, my fingertips moving to touch the Garnet necklace belonging to Daniel’s grandmother his mother had given me as a wedding gift. She had russet-colored hair, teased and curled up around her neck, and sat with her back held perfectly erect as she lifted dainty bits of salad to her red lips. She’d moved to Atlanta when Daniel’s father died a few years ago so I’d only met her once prior to the wedding. Rumor had it, according to Anna-Beth, there was another man.
“Well, you’ve got to respect a sixty-year-old woman who still gets her makeup and pearls on by six a.m.,” I said under my breath. “And she takes her mothering very seriously, always gushing over the twins and Daniel. You know she cut the crust off Daniel’s toast the other morning right before she shooed me up stairs to ‘get my face on before seein’ my husband.’” I shot Anna-Beth an amused look. “I’m sure she means well, but I’ll be glad when this wedding’s over and it’ll be just me, Daniel, and the boys.”
With a flick of her wrist, Anna-Beth corrected me in a hushed tone. “Oh, honey, you’ve married a Southern man. It ain’t never gonna be just you and him. You marry Daniel, you marry the whole family. His momma and sister will be in your business from now on.”
Replacing Gentry Page 3
