Gideon's Bride

by Amelia Autin

  He carried her out of the kitchen and down the long hallway to their bedroom. He didn’t say a word the whole way, nor did he speak until he’d stripped off her clothes, slipped her nightshirt over her head and settled her under the covers.

  He brought a damp cloth from the bathroom and wiped her face gently, then set it aside. He tilted her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were very green in his tanned face as he took in her pallor and felt the slight tremors that still shook her.

  “Are you okay now?” he asked finally.

  She nodded.

  “Can you tell me what that was all about?”

  In a voice scarcely above a whisper, she said, “Nicki asked me if I was going to have a baby, and I told her I...couldn’t.”

  “Oh, Rennie. I’m sorry.”

  “I thought I’d dealt with it, Gideon, but I guess I was wrong.”

  ”It’s obviously been coming for a long time.” He was silent for a moment. “Didn’t you go through any counseling for it?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think I ever really grieved. I went through the denial and depression stages, but I never let myself mourn. I guess I never really accepted it, even though I told myself and everyone else I had.”

  “But what brought it on now?” Perplexity showed on his angular features. “I can’t believe that one question from Nicki could trigger this kind of emotional explosion if you hadn’t been primed for it.”

  The last piece of the puzzle fell into place in Rennie’s mind. “You brought it on,” she said before she realized it. She caught her breath sharply and covered her mouth, but it was too late.

  “What?” He grasped her arms and pulled her closer. “What did you say?”

  There was no going back. She could only go forward. “It was you,” she whispered.

  He shook his head in denial. “What have I done to make you unhappy?”

  “Not unhappy,” she explained, looking at him but not really seeing him. “Happy. But it wasn’t enough,” she said to herself. “That’s why I haven’t been able to sleep these past two weeks. I’ve been grieving.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She focused on the face that had become so dear to her, noting each subtle nuance of expression. “I didn’t understand until just now.” Her eyes were very dark in her pale face, but the words flowed out of her in a cleansing stream. “It was our babies I was grieving for, Gideon. Yours and mine. Because I love you.”

  Chapter 14

  Rennie’s words went through Gideon like a whirlwind, shaking him to the core.

  She loved him.

  He hadn’t wanted to face it, hadn’t wanted to deal with the consequences, but somehow he’d known. Rennie would always follow her heart. He’d convinced himself that all they shared was chemistry, friendship, sexual attraction, and any of a dozen other words, when all the while he’d known deep down in the secret recesses of his soul that what she felt for him was love.

  What had she said? Love. Babies. Their babies.

  For one brief moment he remembered Johanna carrying their children, remembered the joy, the wonder. But close on the heels of those memories came a picture that could never be—Rennie carrying their baby, her body rounded with the promise of new life, her face soft and glowing with love. The ache in his heart for that child that they would never have shook him more than he thought possible.

  “Rennie.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, both giving and receiving comfort for the grief that he finally understood.

  “I guess I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself.” The words were muffled against his shirt. “We had an agreement, and you kept your side of the bargain.”

  “The hell with that,” he said roughly.

  “No. It’s important, Gideon. You’ve kept your promises to me. It’s not your fault I fell in love with you.”

  “Rennie, I—”

  Whatever he was going to say was lost when the door handle to their bedroom rattled impatiently. It was followed by the sound of a small hand slapping at the door. “Wemmy!” came a voice from the other side. “Wemmy!”

  “Damn!”

  Gideon’s softly spoken curse exactly echoed Rennie’s sentiments. Much as she loved Andrew, she could have wished him anywhere but here at this precise moment.

  “Wemmy!” Andrew’s voice rose in volume and the door handle rattled again.

  “You’d better open it, or he’ll start crying,” Rennie said.

  Gideon briefly tightened his hold, then reluctantly released her and went to open the door. Andrew marched inside, his bottom lip trembling ominously.

  “Wemmy.” It was a piteous sound, and Rennie couldn’t resist it. She patted the bed beside her.

  “Come on up.”

  The little boy tried, but the bed was too high. Gideon lifted him and settled him next to Rennie, but he scrambled onto her lap and laid his head on her breast. She curved her arms around him and hugged him close, and he burrowed against her.

  “It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Daddy?” Gideon turned and saw his daughters standing in the open doorway. “Can we come in?” Trina pleaded.

  He glanced at Rennie, who nodded. He faced the girls again and said, “All right. For just a minute.”

  Trina crept inside, but stayed close to the door. Nicki did the same, but where Trina’s eyes were wide and afraid, hers held guilt and trepidation.

  “Don’t be scared,” Rennie told them. She reached deep inside herself and found a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.” She looked at Trina and held out her hand. “But I could really use a hug and a kiss right now.”

  Trina didn’t hesitate. She ran to the bed and climbed right up, throwing her arms around Rennie’s neck and kissing her. Rennie held her tightly, returning the kiss many times over.

  “I love you, Rennie,” Trina said, her voice wobbling.

  “I love you, too, sweetie. You’ll never know how much.”

  Andrew raised his head, not wanting to be left out. “I wuv you, Wemmy.”

  She kissed the tip of his nose. “And I love you, too.” Then she looked over at Gideon’s oldest child, her heart in her eyes. “Nicki?”

  Nicki walked slowly toward the bed, but stopped just short of it and hung her head, as if she still feared Rennie blamed her for what happened. Rennie shifted Trina to one side and reached out to touch Nicki’s hand.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly. “It was mine. You didn’t do anything, and I’m sorry I made you feel that you did.” Nicki lifted her chin and their eyes met. “Won’t you forgive me?”

  With a choked cry, Nicki threw herself at Rennie, and they clung to each other. “I love you, Nicki,” she said, “I love you so much. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  Then somehow all three children were embracing her, clamoring for hugs and kisses that, between laughter and tears, she divided equally among them. As if from a distance, Gideon watched the touching tableau they made, his children clustered around Rennie, basking in the charmed circle of love she created so effortlessly. Love that extended to him.

  Then Rennie looked up and smiled at him, a smile so radiant it took his breath away, and suddenly it was all so simple that he marveled how he could ever have been so blind.

  He loved her.

  Adrenaline surged through his body. God, it had been staring him in the face all this time. Why had it taken him so long to realize he loved her? That he needed her the way he needed air, water, food? It had taken Jo’s death to make him understand how precious and rare had been the love they shared. Why hadn’t he seen that he had something equally precious in Rennie?

  Love and Rennie. The words met and mated, fitting together the way he and Rennie did. Perfectly.

  More than anything he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, just hold her, reassuring himself that she was his now, in a way he’d never dreamed she could be.

  And if they hadn’t had an audience, he’d have done just that, an
d more. But now wasn’t the time. First, he had to put his kids—no, their kids—to bed.

  Then, Rennie, he promised her silently, then I’ll tell you the words I long to say and you long to hear.

  * * *

  But it was not to be. His kids were too emotionally wound up to go quietly to bed. Between baths, nightclothes, brushing teeth, two bedtime stories for Andrew and a drink of water for Trina, it took him forever to settle them for the night. Then he stole five minutes for a quick shower in the bathroom off the kitchen. By the time Gideon finally returned to the master bedroom, Rennie was fast asleep, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.

  Disappointment sliced through him. He’d eagerly anticipated this moment for the past hour and more, his newfound love for her burning white-hot. He ached, not just in body, but in soul. He wanted to tell her what was in his heart, then watch her eyes as he took her with the words of love trembling between them.

  He touched her shoulder, but she didn’t even stir. The faint shadows under her eyes bore mute testimony to her exhaustion, both mental and physical, and he told himself he’d be a selfish bastard if he woke her now. He pushed his disappointment aside. Morning would come soon enough. For now he’d have to be content with holding her.

  Gideon stripped off his robe and slid naked into bed beside her. He punched up his pillow and shoved it under his head, then reached over and gently drew Rennie back against him. She sighed but didn’t waken. His body responded to her proximity with predictable results, but he ignored it as best he could. He slipped one knee between hers, curved his arm under the soft swell of her breasts, then closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  Sleep refused to come. He was too keyed up, his mind playing back scenes from this evening, from the moment he’d found Rennie in tears, to her startling declaration of love, to his even more startling discovery that he loved her, too.

  It shouldn’t have been such a surprise. I should have seen it long ago. Why didn’t I? Rennie brought laughter and love into my life again, and she gave me back my children. She loved them, and me, and she turned this house into a home once more. How could I help but love her? And why did it take me so long to realize it?

  What a barren wasteland his life had been without her, a desert where he had wandered aimlessly for so long he’d forgotten the cool, clean, life-giving taste of water. Rennie’s love was like water for his thirsty soul, and he needed it, and her, forever.

  His arm tightened around her. You gave me gifts beyond price, sweetheart, and in exchange I gave you nothing. Nothing but promises that were easy to keep. Promises...

  That was it. There was the answer that had eluded him, the reason why he had denied for so long the love growing between them. It all came down to a promise. Not one he’d made to Rennie, but to Johanna.

  He’d promised Jo that he would take her and their children to visit her parents, who had retired to southern California a few years before. But when the time came to make good on his promise, an outbreak of pneumonia had threatened his prize-winning merino flock and he’d begged off the trip. Jo, Nicki and Trina had flown to California without him.

  And as a result, Jo died.

  It was his guilty conscience, not just his love for Jo, that had kept him from reaching out for love again. All this time he’d thought he had no love left in him to give, had thought that part of him had died with Jo. But the truth was harder to accept. He’d been afraid of love, afraid he’d fail another woman as he had failed Jo.

  He’d been a coward long enough. It was time he faced the truth and forgave himself. Only then could he be free of the past, free to love again.

  * * *

  It wasn’t quite dawn when Gideon’s pickup truck pulled up to the cemetery entrance. He parked and turned off the engine.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave Rennie to come here. After lying awake for so long he’d finally slept, then had wakened at his usual time, with his wife still in his arms. Her baby-soft skin, warm and rosy; the scent of her, a unique combination of delicate perfume and Rennie; the dusky curls tickling his chin—all these things had pulled at him to stay. But he knew what he had to do.

  Gideon grabbed the bouquet from the seat next to him and pushed open the truck door. With a firm tread he made his way in the predawn light through the older section of the cemetery. He stopped in front of his parents’ graves for a moment’s quiet reflection, then moved on. It was only a short distance from there to Johanna’s resting place.

  He removed his hat and set it on the gravestone, then crouched to place his floral tribute in the container embedded at the base. Dew still clung to the petals, and Gideon wiped his damp hands on his jeans as he stood up. He’d haphazardly plucked the flowers in the dark and the odd mixture reflected it, but he’d wanted flowers for Johanna, today of all days.

  He reached over and traced the words carved on the tombstone, then abruptly thrust his hands in his back pockets. “Hey, Jo, it’s me,” he said softly.

  Having said that, he glanced down at the scuffed tips of his boots, suddenly at a loss for words. How to say what was in his heart? Then it came to him.

  “You probably already know it, Jo, but ever since you died I’ve blamed myself. I didn’t know I did. Guess I didn’t want to know. It wasn’t until I fell in love with Rennie that I realized it.” He exhaled strongly, relieved to have finally spoken the words.

  “Yeah. I love her. I haven’t told her yet, but I will. I just had to talk to you first, though, had to clear my conscience before telling her.” He paused a moment, then said, “I made you a promise. I broke it. I wish I hadn’t, and I’m sorry. But it’s something that can’t be changed, something I have to live with. And it’s time I forgave myself. I hope you forgive me, too.”

  He watched the first fingers of morning steal over the earth like a lover’s hand. The sky turned a rosy blue. Tiny creatures of the night scurried past his motionless figure, seeking sanctuary. And still he waited. Finally, with the rising sun came a gentle breeze that ruffled Gideon’s hair in passing.

  His eyes glistened, but he smiled. “I still love you, honey. Part of me always will. But there’s room in my heart for both of you now.

  “Rennie’s a lot like you, inside, where it counts. But she’s different, too, just as the love I feel for her is different. I’m not the same man I was before. And I know now that you’re my past. Rennie is my future.”

  Gideon leaned over to touch the gravestone one last time, in a final farewell. “Goodbye, Jo.”

  He settled his Stetson on his head, pulling it low over his eyes. Then, with a free heart, Gideon headed for home. He never looked back.

  * * *

  Rennie was sitting on the front porch steps, sipping from a cup of black coffee, when Gideon drove up in a swirl of dust, parked and jumped out.

  “Good morning,” he called out. “You’re up early.”

  “So are you. I didn’t even hear you leave.” Even though her insides were shaking, she took pride in the fact that she managed that much with at least a semblance of calm.

  He strode around the front of the truck, his boots kicking up more dust, and came to sit beside her. His large frame crowded her, and she inched away to give him more room. His eyes creased into a smile. “Got enough of that to share?”

  “Um-hm. But it’s not very hot. Let me get you a fresh cup.” She started to rise, but he stopped her with a strong hand on her arm.

  “No, don’t bother. I’d rather share yours if you don’t mind.”

  Rennie sank back down onto the steps. “I don’t mind.”

  He took the cup from her and deliberately turned it so that his lips touched the same spot on the rim where hers had been. He took a long swallow, then handed it back to her.

  He looked out over the ranch, which was already alive with activity, and asked, almost too casually, “Where are the kids?”

  “Still sleeping.” She sipped her coffee, telling herself she only imagined it tasted sweeter now. “After everything that happened
last night, I decided to let them sleep in for once.”

  He nodded slowly and said, “That was probably a good idea. I thought you might sleep in, too. That’s why I tried not to wake you.”

  He turned his head suddenly and caught her watching him. His eyes were very green, and she wondered whether he was remembering the night before. He didn’t say anything, though, and Rennie wasn’t about to ask him.

  Instead, she said, “Where did you go so early this morning?”

  He gazed down at her for a moment before answering. “I went to the cemetery.”

  “Oh.”

  If he hadn’t been watching her so carefully he would have missed the slight trembling of her lips before she controlled it. He reached over and brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. She turned her head to avoid his touch, but he caught her chin and brought her back to face him.

  “I went for a reason, Rennie. Don’t you want to know why?”

  “No. I don’t think I want to hear this.”

  “I think you do.” He ran one finger under her chin, sending shivers of awareness through her, and tilted her face upward. He studied each feature, taking his time about it, even though each one was already imprinted on his heart. “You are so beautiful,” he finally whispered, only a fraction of a second before his mouth sought hers with a tender kiss. When he drew back she stared up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

  “Ask me,” he said huskily. “Please ask me.”

  She forced the words out. “Why did you go?”

  “To talk to Jo.” Rennie closed her eyes against the stab of pain and guilt, but they flew open at his next words. “To tell her I’ve fallen in love with you, and to say goodbye.”

  She blinked, then caught her breath as the meaning sank in. “What did you say?”

  “I said I love you, Rennie.”

  She couldn’t quite take it in, and she shook her head. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

  “I mean it.”

  Because she so desperately yearned for it to be true, she wouldn’t let herself believe him. Not yet. She searched his face, her eyes begging for the truth. “You’re not just saying this because of what I told you last night, are you? I couldn’t bear it if you’re only saying it out of pity.”