by Gina Wilkins
“Perhaps,” she agreed, though she wasn’t at all sure that explained it. She glanced at her watch. “I wonder if it’s too early to call Tommy. Just to make sure everything’s okay there.”
Steve probably didn’t intend for her to hear his faint sigh, but she did. And she bristled. “I just want to make sure,” she said defensively.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you thought it. ‘There goes Nina being the overprotective mother again.”’
He frowned reproachfully at her. “Don’t put words in my head.”
“I can’t help it. It bothers me that you get all tense every time I mention my son.”
“If that’s true, it has nothing to do with whether I like your son or not. I do like him, as a matter of fact. I made that decision when I watched him with my nephew. My only concern is that you’re letting him come between us. In fact, you seem to be deliberately putting him there.”
Nina toyed with the bracelet on her right wrist—a thin, gold chain Tom had given her last Mother’s Day. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Steve drew a deep breath. “I want to marry you, Nina Lowery. And I have a bad feeling that the first words out of your mouth when I propose are going to be something along the lines of ‘what will Tom think?’ ”
She was stunned. Utterly, completely stunned. “You can’t possibly be thinking about marriage.”
“You’re telling me what I’m thinking again,” he grumbled. “And, again, you’re wrong.”
“Steve, we have known each other only two weeks.”
“How long does it take to fall in love?” he asked quizzically. “Is there some sort of formula I haven’t heard about?”
Love. Her knees folded. Fortunately, there was a couch behind her. She sat rather heavily, her hands falling limply in her lap.
Steve smiled without much humor. “I can see I’ve swept you right off your feet.”
He sat beside her and took her cold hands in his warmer ones’ “I love you, Nina. I have from the beginning. I admire what you’ve accomplished. I respect your intelligence and your humor. I love your mind, your face, your body, your passions. I want you in my life every day, not just on convenient weekends.”
“Do you always make up your mind this quickly about things?” she asked weakly, shaken by his ardent words.
“Always.” His mouth twisted ruefully. “Unfortunately, that’s one of the things about me that drove my sister crazy. When Ben Harden dumped my mother, four years after seducing her away from my father, he left her totally devastated. She was an insecure, dependent woman who wasn’t accustomed to making decisions or facing responsibilities. My own father had remarried and moved away after the ugly divorce, and we saw him very rarely after that. Crystal was still just a kid, so someone had to step in and take charge of our family. I decided it might as well be me.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen. A senior in high school. I got a job, helped mother find part-time work, and then I took over paying the bills and maintaining the household. I got in the habit of giving orders and having them followed without question. I’m afraid that I was never able to change that habit where Crystal was concerned. I always wanted what was best for her—and I guess I always thought I knew what that was. When she rebelled, I tried to coerce her into going along, until finally we weren’t even speaking. I hated the way she lived, the choices she made, and she was equally determined to live on her terms, not mine. By the time I understood that she had the right to make her own decisions, it was too late to make amends with her. She wanted nothing more to do with me. I always thought that someday she’d forgive me enough to repair some of the damage between us...but then it was too late. Leslie called to tell me that Crystal was dead, and that her son was all I had left of my family.”
Nina had heard most of this before, of course, but it still hurt her to hear the pain and self-recrimination in Steve’s voice. “You can’t keep blaming yourself, Steve. As you said, Crystal made her own choices.”
“I know. And it’s still difficult for me to accept them—which is the reason I instinctively resisted when I found out she’d asked Leslie, instead of me, to raise her son. That was probably the wisest decision Crystal ever made, actually. I see that now. I’ve been judging Leslie. by her father’s actions, and that was wrong.”
“Yes. Leslie is a good woman. I’m very fond of her. I just hope...” Nina bit her lip.
“What?”
“She hurt my son very badly once. I pray that she doesn’t do so again. But I’ll admit Tommy was probably at fault in that himself. He can be a bit difficult at times. Still, no matter what happens between Tom and Leslie, they’ll both make sure that Kenny doesn’t suffer for it.”
“I’m sure you’re right. And so will I. He is my nephew—and once I persuade you to marry me, he’ll be my...what? Stepgrandson?”
Nina shook her head and tried to pull her hands out of his grasp. “Don’t talk that way. We can’t—it’s not—you aren’t—”
“You’re stammering,” he interrupted gently, refusing to release her. “Slow down and tell me why you’re so frightened at the thought of marrying me. I won’t rush you. I’ll give you all the time you need to make your decision. But I thought it only fair to warn you of my intentions.”
“Steve, you aren’t thinking clearly. We can’t get married.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too old for you.” She rushed on when he opened his mouth to speak, a look of irritation on his face. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you now, but think about it, Steve. I’m forty-seven. I have a thirty-year-old son who’s making me a grandmother by adoption soon. I have a comfortable life and a thriving business here. I can’t risk giving all that up only to have you decide later that you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“I’ll never think that.” His voice rang with sincerity as his fingers tightened forcefully around hers.
She refused to be silenced before she’d had her say. “You’re a young man. Not even forty yet. You’ve never married, never had children of your own. You have plenty of time for all that now that your business is established and successful. I’ve raised my child. While I suppose I’m still biologically capable of having another baby, I simply don’t want to start over at this point in my life. Even ten years ago, it might have been different, but now the thought of 2 a.m. feedings and diaper changes and colic and teething—well, I just don’t want it. Do you really want to sacrifice your own chance at being a father?”
“If I had strong yearnings toward parenthood, don’t you think I’d have done something about it before now?” he asked in return. “I was willing to raise Kenny, of course—ready to fight for him, obviously—but only because I felt obligated to make sure he would have a good home. At the time, I wasn’t sure that Leslie was the best choice. Now that I know she is, I’m perfectly content to just be his uncle. I like children, but it’s nice to be able to play with them and then send them home with their parents. I love the idea of having plenty of time with you—time for long walks and uninterrupted conversations, time to travel and explore new interests, time to enjoy the rest of our lives together.”
She almost quivered with longing. Everything he said sounded heavenly to her—but could she really trust him not to change his mind later? When she turned fifty and he was only forty-one? Or ten years after that, when some men started looking for younger, “trophy” brides?
Was two weeks really long enough to fall in love, despite the intensity of what she felt for Steve now?
“I’ve made some serious mistakes in my past relationships,” she admitted slowly. “I don’t want to do so again.”
“You were little more than a child yourself when Tom was born. You can’t keep blaming yourself for that mistake.”
“No. And I’ve long since stopped thinking of Tom as a mistake. He’s been nothing but a blessing to me. But I was a grown woman the next time I got involved in a dis
astrous affair. And it could have been devastating for me, and for Tommy, if I hadn’t gotten myself out of it just in time.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “I had turned thirty. Tommy was thirteen, in school all day, and already involved in sports and outdoor activities. He spent a lot of time with Zach and Zach’s father, and I encouraged that because I knew my son needed a good man’s influence in his life. But I was lonely. And vulnerable. And when I met Al Campbell, I was an easy target for his romantic overtures.”
Steve winced. “This sounds very much like a married-man story.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” she said with a self-disgusted sigh. “I was such an idiot. Fell right into an old cliché. He was a traveling salesman, selling floral supplies to small shops like mine. He came to town twice a month, always during the middle of the week. We had long lunches together—first at restaurants and then at my apartment. He called me in the evenings, after Tommy was in bed, and we talked for hours, giggling like teenagers. He convinced me to keep our affair quiet at first, assuring me that it was much more romantic that way. He talked about the day we’d get married and he would become a father to my son, whom he’d never even met. And then I found out, quite by accident, that he already had a son. As well as a wife and two daughters. I was nothing more than the ‘other woman.’ A stupid, blind, pathetic dupe.”
“Nina, don’t—”
She refused to look at him. This time, she was able to free her hands with a swift, firm tug. She wrapped her arms around herself, humiliated and depressed. “Thank God Tom never found out about that miserable episode. It was bad enough that I raised him as an illegitimate child, but to have him find out that I’d nearly destroyed another family was more than I could have borne.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Nina. I’ve made plenty. My sister died without telling me goodbye because I’d made so many mistakes with her. But should we spend the rest of our lives alone to atone for our misjudgments? Shouldn’t we be given a chance to be happy, and to try to make wiser decisions in the future?”
“Don’t you see?” she whispered. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. For once, I’m trying to be cautious and sensible and not led by my emotions into making another mistake. I don’t want to be hurt again. I don’t want to hurt my son. And I don’t want to let you rush us into a commitment that could easily prove to be all wrong for you.”
Steve was silent and still for several long moments. When he spoke, his voice was grim. “Now I know how much Crystal must have hated it when I tried to make decisions for her own good, when I didn’t trust her to know her own mind.”
“It isn’t that I don’t trust you, Steve,” Nina said anxiously.
His dark eyes were sad when he looked at her. “If you really trusted me, you would know that I would never make a promise I didn’t absolutely intend to keep. If you trusted me, you would believe that I love you, and that I will never stop loving you. If you don’t feel the same way about me—if I’ve misread your responses to me—I could accept that. I’d hate it, but I’d accept it. But I cannot agree to having you send me away out of some misguided sense that you’re doing me a favor.”
Nina groaned softly and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t know what to do. Should she follow her heart or her mind? Listen to the warnings of past mistakes, or heedlessly risk making new ones? Should she be strong and sensible, or let love overpower caution?
“What would Tommy say?” she murmured helplessly.
Beside her, Steve cursed beneath his breath. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew that’s what you would say. Damn it, Nina, do you love me or not?”
She dropped her hands and stared at him, a dozen different responses forming in her mind, only one of them true. And then the telephone rang, interrupting her before she could blurt out the answer.
It had been a very long time since Tom had felt like a hero. A long time since he’d thought of himself as one.
He’d grown accustomed to thinking of himself as damaged. Weakened. Slow. Someone confined to the sidelines while others did the rescuing. That image of himself had haunted him. Undermined his confidence. It had changed him in ways he hadn’t quite realized until circumstances had forced him to take a new look at himself and his capabilities.
He’d almost let the accident take a lot more from him than his former physical agility.
Showered and changed, the smell of smoke at least partly eradicated, he sat at his dining-room table, Kenny in his lap. Zach sat across the table, also damp and fresh scrubbed, having borrowed Tom’s shower and changed into clean clothing Kim had brought with her in response to his call from the hospital. Leslie had insisted on making lunch for everyone, and Kim had offered to help. Tom and Zach sat back and enjoyed the attention they were getting.
Tom balanced Kenny between his hands as the baby bounced on the balls of his tiny feet. “Look at him put his weight on his feet,” Tom bragged, his voice still somewhat hoarse from smoke inhalation. “He’ll be walking in no time.”
“Running, you mean. Toddlers never walk when they can run,” Zach, who had several nieces and nephews, remarked, his own voice gravelly. Both of them still coughed occasionally, their lungs irritated by the smoke and fumes and grit they’d inhaled.
Kenny plucked at the thick gauze bandage on Tom’s left hand, then bounced again, babbling noisily.
“Your hand okay?” Zach asked casually, glancing at the bandage that had momentarily claimed the baby’s attention.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been burned. Won’t be the last,” Tom said matter-of-factly. There were other minor bums on his neck and his left shoulder, and one angry red streak down his left cheek, but none of them was serious. The muscle relaxers he’d been given at the hospital had dulled the spasms in his abused back. He was only dimly aware of the ache now, the medication making him float a bit.
“What about you?” Tom asked in return. “Doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Zach, too, had a few bums and bruises from their impromptu rescue operation. He’d followed Tom back into the house in search of seven-year-old Emily, whom they’d found cowering almost unconscious in a corner in the very back of the burning building.
Tom had reached her first and had carried her out, with Zach supporting him and holding a bedspread over them to protect them as best he could from the rain of burning sparks and debris. By the time they’d gotten the little girl outside, all three of them coughing and gagging and dizzy from lack of breathable air, the first fire truck had arrived. Within minutes, they’d all been strapped into oxygen masks and hustled out of the way so that the crew could do what they could to contain the fire that had already destroyed most of the family’s home.
Tom and Zach had broken all sorts of safety rules and procedures during that rescue, but neither of them regretted their actions. They were safe—though it had been a close call, as the house had almost collapsed around them. A family of three was alive, relatively unscathed, though little Emily would be kept in the hospital overnight for observation to make sure there was no lasting damage from her smoke inhalation.
Settling Kenny onto his knee, Tom reflected that he and Zach had been a team again that morning. They had always been stronger and more effective together than apart. How could he have forgotten that?
And how could he have allowed himself to believe that a few physical problems had made him less than he’d been before? He still had a lot to offer, he thought with a surge of satisfaction. Maybe he didn’t have the strength or physical stamina he’d had in his twenties, but he still had training and experience and the intelligence to put them to use in new ways. He couldn’t be a firefighter again, of course. Would never pass that physical again. But there were other things he could do.
He was a giver. A rescuer. And it was past time he got back into action.
Leslie and Kim entered the room, carrying bowls of thick, steaming stew.
“I’ll bring the corn bread,
” Leslie said, hurrying back out of the room.
“I’ll get the tea pitcher.” Kim was right on Leslie’s heels.
Zach leaned back in his chair and smiled. “A guy could get spoiled by this.”
“Yeah, well, don’t become too used to it. As soon as Leslie and Kim get over their scare, they’ll probably start chewing us out.”
Zach winced. “Oh, yeah. They’ll get around to that—at least, Kim will.”
Tom remembered the look in Leslie’s eyes when she’d arrived at the hospital. “Trust me. So will Leslie.”
The doorbell rang and Zach started to rise, but Leslie called out, “I’ll get it.”
A few moments later, they heard new voices from the living room.
Tom sighed. “There’s another woman who’ll pet us and then punch us. My mother.”
“Could be worse,” Zach said in commiseration. “My mom and sisters could be here, as well.”
Nina rushed into the dining room and immediately pounced on her son. “Tommy, are you all right? Oh, your face! And your hand. Did you hurt your back?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
Nina cupped his face in her small, soft hands, looked him over closely, then kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
She smiled at him, then moved to Zach. She tipped his head back, examined the bandage plastered picturesquely to his forehead, touched the bruise darkening at his temple. “You’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Nina.”
“Thank God.” Nina kissed him almost as tenderly as she had her son.
And then she whirled on Tom. “What were you thinking, running into a burning house like that?” she scolded. “When I heard what you did, I was sure my heart would stop.”
“I was thinking that there was a little girl in that burning house who needed help,” he answered her patiently. “Zach was still winded from bringing out her brother and someone had to go in. That left me.”
“I was all right,” Zach argued immediately, never willing to admit a weakness. “I just had to catch my breath for a minute. I was right behind you.”
