Men Made in America Mega-Bundle
Page 25
“What had they done to him?” she whispered.
“Enough that they weren’t worried about one man being able to handle him,” he admitted. She didn’t need to know any more than that. Deke would probably kill him for telling her anything.
She swallowed, fighting down the sudden sickness.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s all over. Deke’s safe. And he’s going to stay that way. We’ve monitored their communications for over six weeks. There hasn’t been a hint of suspicion. A week ago the man they knew as Richard Avery ‘died’ in a tragic automobile accident—one that was staged by some of our experts. None of the computer traffic has even mentioned the coincidence. No one’s suggested his death was anything out of the ordinary. Apparently, they bought it all.”
“And now what?” she asked, hoping.
“I guess that depends on you,” he said. “On what you want.”
SOMEHOW, SHE HAD EXPECTED that he would have changed more during the eternity she had existed without him. She was aware that Luke Ballard had closed the door to the room where Deke had been waiting, allowing them privacy, but she didn’t seem to be able to manage the short distance across it.
There was a lightweight removable cast on his right wrist. His hair was shorter, a little darker perhaps, without its daily exposure to the strong Southern sun. There was something different about his nose, no longer perfectly straight, but subtly out of alignment now. But the tan had not completely faded, and his eyes, of course, hadn’t changed. Palely luminescent, shadowed by the thick lashes. Watching her reaction.
She had no idea what he intended. They had never talked about the future, because he had never had one.
“Luke thinks this is an opportunity to really start over,” Deke said. His eyes hadn’t left her face. “But the name I have to give you—if you decide you want to take it, you and Josh—it still won’t be my name. Somebody else’s identity. Another town. Away from your family. I understand what I’m asking you to give up. And how little I have to offer in exchange.”
He stopped, and she thought maybe that was all he intended to say. More sentences than she’d ever heard him put together before. She hadn’t expected romantic language. Deke Summers wasn’t the kind of man who whispered sweet nothings.
“But I’ll always be there, Becki. For both of you. And I’ll keep you safe. This time…” The deep voice faltered suddenly. And then, because he was the man he was, he found the courage to make the promise he thought she wanted. “This time, I promise to do it right.”
She heard the unspoken thought, and so she said it for him, understanding far more than she had before. She’d have to apologize to Luke Ballard.
“And this time, everything will be perfect,” she suggested. “No mistakes allowed.”
She felt her eyes fill because she loved him so much. And because she recognized the incredible courage it would take for Deke Summers to begin again.
“I want you to understand that I’ll always love you for that, Deke. For wanting everything to be perfect for me and Josh.”
Then, because she knew the things she needed to say were hard, she smiled at him, slightly tremulous, but still a smile.
“But life doesn’t come with those guarantees, Deke. And you can’t make those promises,” she said softly. “They aren’t up to you. Bad things happen to good people, to people who don’t deserve them. You and I both should understand that by now. Illnesses and accidents. Betrayals. Disappointments. They happen, despite our best efforts. And even with our best efforts, we’re going to make mistakes. I will. And you will. Because we’re human.”
The silence stretched between them. Finally, he took a breath, deep enough that it was visible.
“I know…” he began, and then stopped. It was so hard to put it all into words. He had practiced the other, what he wanted to say to her. What he thought she would need to hear. It would be far easier not to explain the rest, but he knew he had to try. That was what he had really done wrong before. Somewhere in his heart he had always known that.
“I know I have some problems,” he acknowledged. Something else Luke had convinced him to do. To get some help dealing with what had happened. To stop denying that he needed help.
“That’s okay,” she said quickly. “I have some problems too. Everybody has problems. It’s how we cope with them that’s important. How we live our lives. That’s what matters. You taught me that.”
“I taught you?” Deke repeated, shaking his head. He knew there was nothing in his screwed-up existence that could teach Becki Travers anything about how to live her life. She was the one who had done it all right.
She smiled at his tone. “Maybe not consciously,” she admitted. “But still, it was a lesson I learned from you. That every day is precious. That it all goes so quickly. That there’s no time for living in the past, for dwelling on the mistakes we made yesterday. You can’t live that way any more, Deke. Not if you want to live with me and Josh. No old failures. No ghosts. We’ll make enough mistakes trying to do it right day by day. And we won’t have time to look back. You can’t promise us that life will always be good, Deke. No one can. Not health or wealth or happiness. No guarantees about any of those.”
She smiled at him again, hoping he understood. It wasn’t his job to make the world they lived in right. Not his responsibility. His expression hadn’t changed, and she realized suddenly that she hadn’t answered his question. She wondered how he could not know what she wanted—for Josh and for herself—but maybe he didn’t.
“But if you’re willing, Deke, I’ll accept the other. The promise to always be there. Just be there. When I wake up at night, I want to hear you breathing beside me. I guess that’s the only promise I want from you. The only one you can really make.”
“As long as I live,” he vowed softly.
And as he had once before in a darkened parking lot, he opened his arms, welcoming her home.
Epilogue
It was late when she got back to her mother’s house to pick up Josh, late enough that she allowed herself to be talked into having supper with her parents. She realized belatedly that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. In light of all that had happened, she hadn’t thought about food, but her mother’s chicken pie was justifiably famous, and she didn’t resist the familiar urging to stay and eat. There’s plenty, her mom had tempted—ritual—and of course, there was.
It was almost dark, twilight deepening and the sky shading to purple, when she and Josh finally got home. Almost exactly the same time of day, she thought, when they had sat together on the back steps and made wishes on the evening star. At least, she amended, Josh had made a wish.
She had hugged the knowledge of Deke’s return to her heart on the way home from Birmingham, thinking about the best time to explain everything to her son. She had finally settled on bedtime, the time set aside for all their important discussions, the time for whispering secrets too precious to be shared with anyone else. It seemed perfect for this revelation.
“Run your bath,” she told Josh, “while I give poor Wimsey his supper. He probably thinks we’ve deserted him again.”
Standing in the kitchen a few minutes later, she could hear distantly, over the whir of the can opener she was using, the sound of bathwater running in the old-fashioned porcelain tub.
She unlocked the sliding door and pushed it open, expecting the ginger tabby to be perched on the railing, tail flicking impatiently as he waited, yellow eyes accusing because of the delay. There was nothing there. No Wimsey.
She set the bowl down in its customary spot and walked to the steps, looking out into the shadowed yard. She knew it would take a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gathering darkness, so she waited, letting the pleasant night sounds surround her. Gradually the area of the yard where the woods always threatened to encroach began to become more distinct. And from the less indiscernible darkness the two shapes took form.
Deke was sitting on the ground, his back against J
osh’s tree—the same tree where he had hidden the night the nightmare had begun, waiting to rescue her from a man they had called Richard. The scarred tom was twining around the bent, jean-clad legs of the seated man.
She stepped quietly back to the sliding door and pushed it open a little.
“Josh,” she called, pitching her voice strongly enough to reach the bathroom and yet not too loudly. They were certainly isolated out here, especially since the house next door had not been rented, but she knew that coming back to a place where he might be recognized could be dangerous for Deke. She wasn’t willing to take any chances.
Josh appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He had removed his shoes and socks, but he hadn’t yet undressed.
“Do me a favor,” she said.
“Okay,” he agreed without question.
“Wim’s out in the Bat Cave, and he won’t come up to eat. Want to go get him for me?”
“Sure,” Josh said.
She moved aside enough to allow him to slip through the sliding door. Standing in the light filtering from the curtained opening behind her, she watched him cross the darkened lawn, and despite the shadows she could tell when he stopped in surprise, a few feet away from the seated man.
The cat deserted his original object of affection to touch his broad head under Josh’s fingers. She waited, wanting to give them privacy, but still wishing she could know what he and Deke were saying to one another. The bond she and Josh had shared for so many years had now been expanded, and despite the small tug of loneliness she felt, she knew that she could never provide her son with the things Deke could give him, wanted so desperately to give. And so she smiled and stayed where she was, watching them together.
“HEY,” DEKE SAID softly. Somehow it had been easier before, in the enemy encampment, all the barriers he had erected through the years instantly destroyed by what was happening.
“Hey,” Josh said.
The silence stretched between them, strained and a little uncomfortable.
“Mom sent me to get Wimsey,” the child explained, reaching down to caress the circling cat.
“Butch,” Deke corrected. “At least—that’s what I always called him.”
“He ran away while we were gone,” Josh said. He squatted, balancing on bare toes to rub the cat. The dark eyes were now on a level with the steady blue ones. “But Mom wished him back.”
“Wished him back?” Deke repeated carefully.
“Wished on a star that he’d come on home,” Josh explained. His eyes lifted briefly to the growing darkness overhead and then came back to the man’s.
“Did you help wish him back?” Deke asked. Despite his intent, the question was tinged with amusement. It had been a long time since he had been around anyone who believed wishes came true, but somehow he didn’t find it hard to imagine that Becki Travers would.
“No,” Josh admitted. “I wished you back.”
In spite of what he had always known about the child’s feelings, the comment caught him unaware, broadsided by its honesty.
“Thanks,” Deke said finally, speaking around the unfamiliar knot in his throat.
“You’re welcome,” Josh said politely. “Would you like to come inside our house, John? I don’t think Mom would mind. I can ask her.”
“Deke,” he corrected. “I know it’s confusing, but my real name is Deke.”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “Mom told me, but I forgot. When I prayed for you, I always said John Evans. I guess God knew who I meant, though. He’s supposed to know everything. And you’re here,” he added, the most compelling argument for the Lord’s omniscience.
“I guess He does,” Deke confirmed softly. He couldn’t think of another soul in his entire life who might have prayed for him. Maybe his mother. A long time ago. And Becki, who apparently still believed in miracles; who thought that despite what he was, he could be the kind of father her son deserved.
“Your mom and I thought we might do something about helping you keep all the names straight,” Deke said carefully, watching him rub the soft fur along Butch’s spine the wrong way. The tom didn’t seem to mind, butting contentedly against the child’s hand. “Mine’s probably going to change again. I can’t explain all the reasons why, but…” He paused, wondering how much to say. He didn’t want to mess this up. It was too important.
“It’s okay,” Josh said when Deke hesitated. “Whatever you want me to call you, it’s okay. I can remember.”
“I thought maybe…we might try Dad,” Deke said. His deep voice was almost a whisper, almost fading into the harmony of the tree frogs, floating from the woods behind them. Nothing he had done in his life had taken more guts than giving voice to that suggestion.
“Okay,” Josh said softly. His fingers had deserted the tabby who twisted now between Deke’s ankles. “Or maybe Daddy?” Josh offered tentatively. “That’s what my cousins call their dad. Do you think that would that be okay?”
“Yeah,” Deke agreed. “I think that would be…just about perfect.”
Again the silence grew, more comfortable now. Familiar.
“Grandma sent us some rice pudding,” Josh said finally. “It’s just what was left from supper, but there’s plenty. You want to come inside?” he invited again.
More than life itself, Deke acknowledged, but of course, that wasn’t what he said.
“Okay,” he agreed, pushing up from the ground. He had forgotten to protect the wrist they had broken, and the sudden pain was enough to fight the pull of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him. He took the couple of steps that separated him from the boy and felt the trusting fingers slip into his big hand. As they crossed the grass, Deke looked up to find Becki watching them, waiting, surrounded by the small circle of light that he finally understood was powerful enough to defeat even his darkness.
A miracle.
Found: His Perfect Wife
by Marie Ferrarella
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Terrific, just terrific.
For the first time in a very long time, he felt like having a drink. But that wouldn’t help anything. It was because he’d taken a drink—several drinks—that he was in this predicament to begin with.
“Bad news?”
Luc LeBlanc looked over his shoulder to see his cousin Ike standing behind him. The Salty, the saloon they both owned and Ike ran, was nearly empty this time of day.
Ike had been watching his cousin for a while now. He indicated the letter lying on the table in front of him.
Luc drew the letter closer to him. “What makes you ask that?”
“The vein in your neck looked like it was going to pop out just then.” Without waiting to be invited, Ike turned the letter toward him and scanned the contents. They were closer than brothers and there were no secrets between them. For that matter, there were precious few in a town the size of Hades. It was average only by Alaskan standards. Coming to the portion that had Luc silently swearing, Ike raised his eyes to look at his cousin. “Wow, what makes Jacob think you’re—?”
“Married?” Luc shrugged, looking off. “Might have been something I said when I ran into him in Anchorage.”
“Well, if you want to save face, looks like you might have to go on a wife hunt.” Ike grinned. “I’d lend you mine but I’m just getting the hang of being a husband myself and I might lose my place if I let you borrow Marta for appearance’s sake.” He grew serious. “What are you going to do?”
Luc stared down at the letter. “I don’t know.”
“This,” Ike said as he got up to get the bar ready for the mine workers who came in to the Salty Saloon at noon, “is going to be interesting.”
Interesting wouldn’t have been the word he would have used, Luc thought. Frustration surged through him. He resisted the urge to crumple the letter. Crumpling it wouldn’t make the problem go away. It was coming via an airplane in a little more than three weeks. Both of them were coming.
Served him right. He’d lied; now he was going to have to pay for it. Which meant owning up to the truth.
Something he wasn’t looking forward to.
He’d lived with and by the truth all his life, not fanatically, but just because it was his way. To his recollection, the lie he’d allowed to slip out in a moment of pure, unadulterated weakness had been the only one he’d ever told.
People lied every day, even here in Hades. Especially here in Hades, he thought, where boredom almost demanded it. It was a form of creative art in this tiny town hovering a hundred miles away from Anchorage. None of the townsfolk had probably ever had to face up to the fact that they had lied to someone who had once, when life was simpler, been their best friend.
But he had lied to Jacob and now he was going to have to admit it.
What he needed, Luc decided, wasn’t a drink. It was to get away. Both were only temporary fixes, but a trip would do him far more good than alcohol. Maybe now was the time for that visit to Seattle he’d been promising himself.