Single with Twins
Page 18
“But with you? Realizing I was in love with you? I slipped back to before the twins were born, accepted without question that loving you was a mistake, that I had guaranteed myself a future of crying alone in the night.”
“Ah, Heather, I…”
“Hush.”
“’Kay,” Mack said.
“Mack,” Heather said, her eyes filling with tears, “love, true love, between a man and a woman requires give-and-take, compromise, sacrifices if necessary, whatever is needed if those two people are determined to be together.
“I came here to state my case, to fight for you, if you want to put it that way. I love you so much and I’m willing to accept that you need to have space, need to travel and be on the move. If you can cut back on those trips, be with me, with your family, for at least half of the time, I truly believe we can make this work. We can, Mack.” A sob caught in Heather’s throat. “If you want it—me…the twins—badly enough. If you truly, truly love me.”
“Oh, Heather.” Mack closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to gain control of his raging emotions, but was unable to keep tears from shimmering in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I love you with my whole heart, with all that I am. And I love the girls and the babies we’ll have later and—
“When you came in, I said I was leaving. I was on my way back to you, to tell you that as I sat here alone in this room for all these hours I realized that I had changed without even knowing it. I’d accepted for years what my father said, that I had inherited his wanderlust spirit and nothing could be done about it. But he was wrong, and I was wrong to accept it for so long.
“Well, not anymore. Not…anymore.” Mack cleared his throat, but his voice remained choked with emotion. “I’m going to stay put and write a book, Heather, because I don’t want to travel the world, dodge bullets, be the hot-shot photojournalist I’ve been for so very long. When I do travel, it will be in the summer when I can take my family with me to nice places, like England, Scotland and…I can open a photography studio, or maybe teach photography, or—
“All I know is, I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you and…Heather, please believe me. I’m…I’m a tree. At long last, I’m an honest-to-goodness tree.”
“Oh, Mack,” Heather said, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“Heather Marshall,” Mack said, “will you marry me, be my wife, my partner in life, until death parts us?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”
Mack reached out a shaking hand and Heather placed her hand in his. He pulled her forward to sit on his right thigh, then cupped the back of her head as he raised his lips to meet hers.
The kiss tasted like salty tears. The kiss was a commitment to the forever they would share, the future that was spread in front of them with the lush bounty of what was yet to come. The kiss ignited desire within them that they welcomed. The kiss was theirs and they rejoiced in the wonder of it.
Heather slowly and reluctantly lifted her head and smiled at Mack through tears of joy.
“Mack,” she said, “let’s go home.”
Epilogue
The large ranch-style house sat on an acre of land on a rise that afforded a marvelous view of the mountains surrounding Tucson and the glittering city lights below.
The house was so newly constructed that no landscaping had yet been done, nor had pictures been hung on the walls within. Some of the rooms were still unfurnished, but a block wall had been finished around the backyard so that a dog named Butch, who was a funny-looking, much-loved mixed breed, couldn’t wander away to explore the desert. Butch was curled up asleep on the patio with Maxine, the cat, tucked beneath his chin.
Inside the house a warm and welcoming fire crackled in the flagstone fireplace in the large living room. A tall Christmas tree stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire front wall of the room.
Mack sat on the floor in front of the hearth, his back resting against the sofa behind him as he stared into the leaping flames.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Heather said, sitting next to him and nestling close to his side.
He kissed her on the forehead. “I was just thinking that we actually did it. We were determined to be in this house by Christmas and here we are, still living out of boxes to a point, but we’re here, by gum.”
Heather laughed. “You bet. Our daughters are snug as bugs in their sleeping bags in their separate bedrooms because their new beds haven’t been delivered yet, but they are happy little girls.”
“And you, Mrs. Marshall?” Mack said. “Are you happy?”
“Oh, Mack, if I get any happier, I’ll probably pop a seam. And you?”
“Hey, I’m a man who has achieved his dream. It doesn’t get any better than this.”
Heather glanced around the room. “A new house. This was my dream, the twins’ dream for so long.” She inhaled deeply. “I can still smell the lingering aroma of paint. Isn’t that super?”
Mack chuckled. “If you say so.”
“What I say is that I love you, Mack Marshall, more than I can ever begin to put into words.”
“Sometimes,” he said, lowering his head to hers, “words just aren’t necessary.”
Their lips met and heated desire flared within them instantly, hotter than the flames in the hearth. They broke the kiss only long enough to shed clothing before kissing, caressing, touching every inch of each other. Passions soared to heights that continually amazed them, the want and need never fully quelled.
They stretched out on the plush carpeting, the flames of the fire casting golden hues over their naked bodies that glistened in the firelight.
They teased and tantalized until they could bear no more.
“I want you, Mack,” Heather whispered. “I love you and want you so very much.”
He entered her, joining their bodies just as their hearts had been joined months before. They moved as one, synchronized to perfection, the heat coiling tighter within them as they came closer and closer to the place they could only go together.
“Mack!”
“I love you, Heather,” he said. “Forever.”
They were flung into glorious oblivion, clinging to each other, then floated slowly back. Mack moved off of Heather and tucked her close to his side as they savored the sated pleasure consuming them.
“Merry Christmas, Mack,” Heather said sleepily.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” Mack said, then wrapped his arm around her waist as though he’d never again let her go.
“And many, many more.”
Mr. and Mrs. Mack Marshall, daughters Melissa and Emma, pets Butch and Maxine…were home.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4392-7
SINGLE WITH TWINS
Copyright © 2001 by Joan Elliott Pickart
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