The Christmas Wedding Ring (Hqn)

by Susan Mallery

  He tried to force the images away. Molly didn’t help. She leaned back and rested her elbows on the bench, thrusting her chest forward. He wondered about the surgery to remove the lump. She would have maybe a couple stitches or some bruising. Did that mean her breasts were any less sensitive? As long as he avoided the tender area in her left breast, wouldn’t they both find pleasure in him caressing her?

  Let it go, he ordered himself. He glanced around, hoping to find something to talk about. All he saw were plants and graves. Despite the perfect weather, it was midday, midweek, and they were the only tourists around.

  “It’s quiet here,” he said, knowing it was a feeble effort at best.

  “I know. That’s why I like it. I try to make it up here every time I come to Santa Barbara. That’s my favorite,” she said, pointing to a group of tombstones laid out in rows in front of a statue of Jesus. “It’s a family and they’re all still together. Five generations.”

  He failed to see anything special about that but refrained from commenting on that fact.

  “If it were my family,” she went on, “they would have a space for me on the other side of the church.”

  Dylan turned to look at her. She’d made the statement matter-of-factly, as if it were of no consequence. Yet he heard the underlying sound of hurt.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  She leaned her head back and stared at the sky. “It was a long time ago, so I understand why you don’t remember what it was like at my house, but ours was not a close family. Janet and I fought constantly, my mother seemed to find fault with everything I did and my father—” She sighed. “He was physically in the house, but emotionally he disappeared a long time ago.”

  “I remember you and Janet fighting,” he said, recalling how Janet would go on about Molly and how annoying she was. “From what I’ve seen, all siblings fight.” He didn’t have any personal experience. His parents had only had one child. With all the drinking and violence in his household, he couldn’t say he was sorry.

  “It took me a long time to figure out what was wrong,” Molly said. “I thought things would get better when Janet left for college, but they didn’t. I still felt like an outsider. One day, when Janet was home on one of her breaks, she asked me out to lunch. She told me she’d finally realized that our mother was encouraging us to argue with each other. As if she didn’t want us to get along. I hadn’t thought of it myself, but I knew as soon as she said it that she was right. I just had to figure out why.”

  Dylan stretched his arm across the back of the stone bench. He let his hand rest against the back of Molly’s neck. Her skin was warm and soft. He rubbed the tension from her muscles.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “I tried raiding the attic, looking for old papers. The problem was, we really didn’t have an attic and I couldn’t find anything interesting in the garage. One day, when my mother was going at me for not hemming a dress correctly, I lost it. I started screaming at her to tell me why she hated me so much. I think I really wanted her to tell me she loved me.”

  Dylan didn’t have to ask to know the news had been bad. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

  “Don’t be. In a way it was nice to have the information out in the open. It seems that after Janet was born, my father got very involved with his career. He was hardly ever home. My mother was lonely and unhappy. She had an affair. It was over quickly, but I’m the living, breathing reminder that it happened. She wouldn’t tell me anything about my biological father, and I don’t really care about him anymore. The man who raised me as his never took any interest in Janet, either, so I don’t blame him for ignoring me. My mother is another matter.”

  Dylan had trouble absorbing what she was saying. “Janet’s only your half sister?”

  “That’s it. I told Janet when I found out the truth and she said she’d thought it was something like that. The good thing is that it doesn’t matter to us. In fact, our relationship became stronger after we found out. Since I went off to college, I haven’t had much contact with my mother. I tried to make peace with her a couple of times, but she isn’t interested. She told me she was glad I was out of her life. Finally.”

  Dylan thought about all he’d endured while he was growing up. Coming home to find both his parents drunk, the pain of the frequent beatings when they were sober. But always, he’d been able to blame the alcohol. He’d carried around the fantasy that if they stopped drinking, everything would be all right. Molly didn’t even have that. All she had was the stark reality that her own mother resented that she’d ever been born.

  He leaned toward her, but she raised her hands to ward him off. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “I’m not sure. But it’s true.” Her hazel brown eyes clouded a little. “Okay, I’ll admit that I would rather have a loving and close relationship with my mother, but at least I know why things happened the way they did. You’d be amazed how much that helps. Now my past makes sense to me. Janet and I have become very close and that means a lot to me.”

  It was something, he supposed, but he wanted her to have more. He wanted there to be lots of people who cared about her. Funny how so much more about Molly now made sense. Her independence, her statement that she wasn’t sure she believed in love. They had that in common.

  “If you’re sitting there feeling sorry for me, I’m going to have to punch you in the stomach,” she said, her expression fierce.

  He grinned. “Don’t start something you can’t finish. If we have a contest of physical strength, I’m going to win.”

  She smiled back at him. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “How do you figure? I’m a lot stronger than you’ll ever be. Just by virtue of being a guy.”

  “My point exactly. You’re a guy. You can’t hit back.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it.

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “I do so love it when I win.”

  “It was nothing but a cheap trick. I’d find a way to win.”

  She leaned toward him and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back. She felt good to hold. The wanting, never far under the surface, sprang to life. Fortunately, Molly didn’t seem to notice.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For all of this. For coming away with me, for being a good friend, for showing me a good time and for caring.”

  He stared at her. They were close enough that he could kiss her. Only he didn’t, because...hell, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t. Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t just accept it. She would want explanations and assurance it wasn’t about pity or anything else. Couldn’t a man just want a woman because he wanted her?

  “I do care about you,” he said.

  “I would have sold my soul to hear those words fourteen years ago.” She rested her forehead against his chest. “I was so gone on you. It’s kind of funny to look back now, but at the time, I was convinced I would never want another man.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.”

  “What?” She looked at him.

  “Hey,” he teased. “This is me. What else would I be if not the man of your dreams?”

  She shoved him away and sat up straight. “Talk about an ego.”

  “I’m just being honest.”

  She angled away from him, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. She was adorable.

  “If I’d known what you were really like, I wouldn’t have wasted my time mooning over you,” she grumbled.

  “Sure you would have.”

  “Do you have to have the last word no matter what?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She was laughing now. He’d always liked the sound, but it was more important to him since he’d learned what was on her mind when she was qu
iet.

  “I’m glad you and Janet finally became friends,” he said.

  “Me, too. She’s been so wonderful through all of this. I couldn’t have made it without her.” She laced her fingers together and frowned. “You’ve done so much, Dylan. You came from a troubled childhood and you’ve made something of your life. It’s very impressive.”

  “Thanks. Some of it was hard work, but some of it was just being in the right place at the right time. I can’t take credit for dumb luck.”

  “It’s more than that. You haven’t been afraid.”

  He sensed they were on shaky ground, but he couldn’t figure out why. “Everyone is afraid sometimes.”

  “I know, but I’ve lived my life in fear. I see that now. I’ve had a lot of time to think and one of the things I’ve learned is that clichés are clichés for a reason—they tell the truth. If something happens to me, something bad, what I’ll most regret is what I didn’t do. It’s as if I made a deal with God and promised not to expect too much. In return, nothing bad would happen to me. There would be no great joy, but no great sorrow, either.”

  That he could understand. “Now you’re thinking you didn’t really make a deal.”

  “Exactly. I’m facing potential sorrow and I haven’t done anything with myself. There has been no joy. There were so many things I wanted to do or thought about doing, and I did none of them. Now I look at where I am and it’s incredibly tragic. It’s one thing to regret not living longer and having more time. It’s another to regret having wasted the time I was given.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. Frustration filled him. Here was one more situation he couldn’t fix. He could only stand helplessly by while Molly wrestled with her pain.

  She leaned against the back of the stone bench. Sunlight filtered through the trees and illuminated her face. For a moment, he thought he was staring at an angel. Beyond her, in the near distance, he could see the profiles of the figures in the Nativity, standing guard over an innocent baby.

  “Maybe this is my lesson,” she said. “Maybe this is what I’m supposed to learn from this experience. That I have to take all the time I’m given and use up each hour as best I can, because time is precious.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He slid toward her and hugged her close. She came willingly into his arms. After clasping one hand behind her he began to rock, comforting them both with the action.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t. I’ll admit the conversation is a little unusual. It’s not often that I discuss the meaning of life.”

  She was silent for a while, then she asked, “Do you believe in God?”

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I suspect that our view of Him is simplified, but I believe a great power exists.”

  “Me, too. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. For obvious reasons. There’s nothing like the reality of facing death to make one think about God and heaven, and what happens after we die.”

  He did not want to be having this conversation with her, but he knew that she needed to talk about it. If not to him, then to whom? Right now he was her whole world. At one time that thought would have scared him into running as far and as fast as he could. But now—now he wanted to stay here, holding her, helping in any way he could.

  “You are very brave,” he murmured against her hair.

  “Stop saying that. I’m just trying to make peace with circumstances that I can’t control. There’s a difference.”

  “No, Molly. You’re amazing. Just quit disagreeing with me and accept the compliment graciously. All right?”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I love it when you talk tough. I’m hungry. Let’s be wild today and have ice cream for lunch.”

  “You’re on.”

  * * *

  Dylan was as restless as a mountain lion in a cage. He paced their small house from end to end, pausing only to stare out into the darkness before resuming his route. Molly curled up in a corner of the sofa and watched him. Despite the pep talk she’d been giving herself for the past hour, she couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling of sadness overwhelming her. Maybe because there was no way to avoid the truth.

  Dylan wanted out.

  Last night he’d taken the news very well. This morning he’d seemed fine, both at breakfast and when they’d visited the mission. After a decadent lunch of ice cream, they’d gone to see a Christmas movie. He’d been friendly, supportive and solicitous, holding her hand during the film, inquiring about her comfort when they’d been at the restaurant. She’d basked in the glow of his attention, but now she wondered if it had all been a cover.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. It had been over two weeks, and she still hadn’t adjusted to the reality of having found a lump. It was impossible for him to accept it in twenty-four hours. Despite the past ten days, they were relative strangers. He didn’t owe her anything. She was wrong to expect him to stay. The true act of kindness would be to release him.

  She watched him as he paced by her. He didn’t look at her, in fact, he barely seemed to notice she was in the room. She’d hoped... Molly shook her head. She’d had a lot of hopes, but none of them had been realistic. She was a grown-up. She’d been alone before and she would be alone again. She was tough. He’d given her ten wonderful days and that was more than she’d expected.

  “I understand what’s wrong,” she said.

  Dylan stood by the window, his back to her. “I doubt that.”

  At least he hadn’t tried to deny there was a problem.

  “You’re frustrated by the situation. You want to leave but feel you have a responsibility to me. Don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine.”

  He turned to stare at her. Tension tightened the lines of his face, drawing his cheekbones into stark relief. His mouth was straight, his eyes unreadable. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She didn’t flinch at his harsh tone. She knew he was angrier with himself than with her. “You’ve already given me so much more than I’d imagined was possible. These days have been a terrific adventure. I’ll remember them always. Not just because you helped me through a difficult time, but because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again.”

  Dylan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “You’re missing the entire point.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re a good man. You want to fix me, and you can’t. It’s out of your hands. So let it go. Let me go. I’ll head on up to see Janet, so you don’t have to worry about me being alone.” She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t regret a minute of the time we’ve spent together. I don’t want you to regret it, either. Say goodbye, Dylan. Go while it’s still good between us.”

  He crossed to her in three long strides, then sat on the sofa next to her. After taking both her hands in his, he gazed at her face. “You think you’re really bright, and you are about some things, but, Molly, you couldn’t be further off base with this one.”

  He looked incredibly sincere. “If it’s not that, then what? What’s wrong?”

  He touched a finger to her cheek. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay.”

  He was not making sense. “Then stay. What’s the problem?”

  “I want to be with you and it’s making me crazy.”

  His words came out in a rush. Molly heard them. They turned over in her brain. He wanted to be with her. Okay. He was with her. They were with each other. They’d spent the past ten days together.

  “You are with me.”

  “I want to make love with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She felt it. She also felt all the air leaving her lungs. In a couple of seconds she was going to start gasping, but for now, she would only stare at him in disbelief.

  He wanted her? He wanted her?
<
br />   She’d thought about them being together—it was one of her favorite fantasies. But the reality was very different. He was Dylan Black, an amazing man who was incredibly good-looking and successful and whatever would he want with a woman like her?

  She’d found she could not enjoy the sexual act and try to hold in her stomach at the same time. And what about her breast? She had an incision. The shape was weird on that one side and the bruise was gross.

  He couldn’t really want her. This was about feeling sorry for her or—

  “Dammit, no!” he growled, and grabbed her shoulders. “Confusion is acceptable. You can blink at me and tell me it’s too sudden. You can even slap me across the face and remind me I’m breaking the rules, that you aren’t interested in a guy like me. Any of that. But I won’t let you doubt yourself or the fact that I want you.”

  Dear Lord, he could read her mind.

  “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

  “I know you, Molly. Better than you think.”

  She was too confused to be able to say anything. “I don’t understand. I’m so not your type.”

  “Why is it so hard to believe I want you?” He scowled. “Just for the record, I want to make love with you. I don’t want to ‘get off.’ Don’t be confused about that. If you’re not interested, say so and I’ll leave you alone. We’ll pretend this conversation never occurred.”

  He was kidding, right? He had to be. But she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. The fear that she would reject him. Beneath that, she saw desire. The flickering flames of wanting and needing.

  She believed him. Maybe because she wanted to, but that was all right. She’d promised herself no regrets. Dylan said he wanted to make love with her. She’d wanted to be with him since she’d first seen him. It didn’t matter that it was only temporary. For reasons she would never understand, Dylan had engaged her heart in more ways than any other man, even Grant. She could deny him nothing. More important, she would not deny herself this chance...this miracle.