Revival

by Noelle Adams

  He must have realized she wasn’t going to stop because he braced himself and caught her with both arms as she threw herself toward him in a hug.

  The momentum swung them both around, but then he tightened his arms around her as she clutched at him, wheezing and almost in tears.

  “Oh, baby,” he mumbled into her hair. “It wasn’t a way to manipulate you into forgiving me. I want you to have it, whether or not you can—”

  “Of course I forgive you,” she gasped, trying desperately to catch her breath as she pulled away just enough to look up at his face. “And your timing is remarkable. I was just planning to storm your place and force you to talk to me, so I could make you see how stupid you were being.”

  He almost smiled. “I figured it out for myself.”

  “You don’t have to give me the church, you know. I know it was important to you—because of your parents. I know you’ll take care of it. I don’t need the church. I just want you.”

  “Well, you have me. And you have the church. I want you to have it.”

  She reached up and pulled his head down into a hard kiss. “Thank you.” Her sprint started to catch up with her then, and her knees felt a little shaky. “Can we maybe sit down now?”

  Baron laughed, and they went to sit by the bench.

  She told him about her conversation with Dave, and he told her about his conversation with Steven.

  Leila leaned into him, and he put his arm around her to pull her close. “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’ll try to settle something with the will. I’m going to give him what he wants.”

  “Are you sure? I know it means a lot to you to do what your dad wanted—”

  “I know. But there’s no way for this…this mess to end without giving something up. I can’t give you up. I was an idiot for even thinking that was possible. I’m not going to give you up, so I’ll give this up instead. I’ll let him win. Then, when things are finalized with the will, I’ll reorganize processes in the company so I’m not having to do everything. I know my dad… But I can’t. I won’t let myself be that man. I’ll bring on whoever we need to get the work done so I’m not always drowning in it.”

  She knew he was making the right decision. She knew it would be hard.

  But better to walk away wounded than to not walk away at all.

  “It’s not what my dad would have wanted,” Baron added, almost idly. “But it’s the only thing I can do.” He wasn’t looking at her. He was still gazing out at the lawn, his face calm, as if the topic didn’t mean that much to him.

  She knew how much it did.

  “I think,” Leila said, a little hesitantly. “I think that’s... right.”

  He inclined his head in a slight nod, but it was a long stretch of silence before he slanted his eyes back down to her face. “Thanks.”

  She smiled up at him, feeling ridiculously emotional, worried about him but so incredibly happy.

  “Do you want to come home with us after lunch? Miss Martin is bringing the girls over here after their gymnastics lesson. You could come home with us, if you want. We’re not going to do much, but you could hang out with us—if you wanted.”

  “Yeah. Thank you. I’d like to.”

  She let out an exhale and relaxed against him. His arm tightened around her.

  The weather was crisp and cool—it less than two weeks until Christmas—but the sun was out and it was warm on Leila’s face. It felt good to sit outside like this, and Baron’s strong body felt exactly right against hers.

  “You know I think you’re incredible, right?” she asked, without thinking through the words, prompted by feeling she just couldn’t suppress.

  Something transformed in Baron’s eyes. They blazed for a moment with something deep and tender and breathtaking.

  Then a flicker of dry amusement tightened on his lips. “I do know that. You wrote me a whole poem about it once. All about my eyes, and my laughter, and my heart—”

  “Oh!” she gasped, trying to cover his mouth to stifle the words. “You ass! You are never to refer to that poem again.”

  He laughed, free and uninhibitedly, in a way she hadn’t seen him laugh since he was a boy. “Why not? Don’t you feel the same way about me now?”

  “Maybe a little. But those feelings will quickly change if you bring up the poem again.”

  “All right. No talk of the poem.” He cupped her face in one of his hands. “Maybe I’ll write a poem about you instead.”

  All of her spark melted at the expression on his face. “What will it say?”

  “It will say that Leila’s eyes and her laughter and her heart found me when I was lost and brought me home. It will say my heart only came alive because of her.”

  Her eyes burned at the words, the feeling, so openly expressed. “That will be a better poem than mine.”

  “I like your poem.” He leaned down to kiss her lips very gently. “I still have it somewhere.”

  “You do not!”

  “I do. I kept it.”

  Her cheeks were burning with joy and a little embarrassment. “Because you like to pull it out and laugh at it?”

  He chuckled and drew her into a hug. “Maybe I kept it at first because I thought it was funny. But it did mean something to me. That someone felt that way about me.”

  “I’ll have you know it wasn’t just a silly girlish crush. I loved you with a deep, yearning passion that consumed me. I couldn’t live without you.”

  He laughed again. “I’m glad to hear it. Now you know a little of how I feel now about you and the girls.”

  When she processed his words, she jerked away from him and stared up at his face. He looked absolutely exhausted but also happy and slightly amused. Not self-conscious at all. “What did you say?” she demanded.

  He lowered his brow. “What do you mean? I was just teasing you about—”

  “You said that I know how you feel now. I loved you with a deep, yearning passion that consumed me. I couldn’t live without you. And you said…”

  He looked slightly taken aback. He cleared his throat. “You, uh, knew that, right?”

  She felt a surge of awe and joy, mingling in her chest, her throat, her eyes, all at once. “You love me?”

  He shifted slightly on the bench. “That was the point of this whole dramatic gesture. I thought you would figure it out.”

  She just stared at him, too overwhelmed to speak.

  “Anyway, I do,” he said at last. “Love you.”

  “And the girls?” She clasped her hands together in a futile attempt to contain her rising excitement.

  He drew his brows together. “Of course, the girls.”

  Leila threw her arms around him. Hugged him as tightly as she possible could.

  Then she pressed clumsy kisses against his neck and told him, “We love you too.”

  ***

  A little while later, they were still sitting on the bench together, both too dazed and happy and exhausted to speak, when two little voices shouted from across the lawn, “Mommy! Mr. Baron! Mommy! We’re here!”

  They turned to see the twins approaching, their blond ponytails streaming out behind them as they galloped over to the bench, Miss Martin approaching more slowly behind them.

  “You’re here, Mr. Baron!” Charlotte exclaimed, as she reached the bench just a little before Jane. “We didn’t know you were here!”

  “I’m here,” Baron acknowledged, half-smiling at the girls’ obvious delight.

  “I’m glad!” Jane said, throwing her arms out and reaching up for a hug.

  Baron hugged her back, making room when Charlotte pushed in to share the hug.

  Leila watched with a hitch in her throat.

  She could see so clearly that he needed them. They gave him joy and strength and support—as much as he gave them. He wanted them to be part of his life, just as he wanted her.

  “We were sad that you broke up with Mommy,” Charlotte told him. “We thought it was wr
ong.”

  “It was wrong,” he agreed. “I’m not going to break up with your Mom ever again.”

  “Promise?” Jane asked.

  “I promise.”

  That evidently deserved another hug from both of them.

  When they pulled away, both girls were beaming. Leila managed to get her emotions under control as Charlotte went into a long discourse on what happened in their gymnastic lessons that morning.

  Finally, Jane asked, “Can we play a little while, Mommy?”

  Leila glanced at her watch. “Sure. We can stay a half-hour or so.”

  “Will you play with us, Mr. Baron?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, we can be the two captured princesses,” Jane added, evidently hit with sudden inspiration. “And you can be the hero who rescues us!”

  “Yay!” Charlotte exclaimed, dancing a little jig of excitement. “Please, Mr. Baron?”

  “Now girls. Mr. Baron has had a busy weekend, and he might be a little tired.”

  Before the girls could respond, Baron intervened. “I’m not that tired. I could probably manage to be the hero for a little while.”

  He stood up, and the girls tugged on Leila’s arms too. “Come on, Mommy,” Jane insisted. “You can be a princess with us.”

  So Leila was one of three princesses trapped in a dungeon, and Baron was the hero who rescued them in a variety of creative and unpredictable ways.

  It wasn’t the worst way to spend a half-hour.

  Epilogue

  “All right, Charlotte,” Leila said, trying to keep the tiredness out of her voice. “It’s time to sit down at the table again. Our food will be here soon.”

  Leila’s back was hurting. She was exhausted from all the end-of-the-semester work she’d finally finished up. She still hadn’t done any of her Christmas shopping, and all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and sleep.

  “I’m Hannibal,” Charlotte declared from the top of the bronze elephant sculpture she’d climbed onto a few minutes ago. “And I’m crossing the Alps with the Carthaginians!”

  Leila shook her head, wishing they hadn’t come to a restaurant with décor that was so tempting for children to play on. The restaurant had opened just a few weeks ago, and it had become such a hit that most people had to get on a list and wait for three months before they could get a reservation.

  Not Baron, of course.

  Leila hadn’t felt like going out at all tonight, but the girls had been restless and Baron had been wanting to try this new place.

  “Hannibal made it across the Alps,” Leila said, pitching her voice as cheerfully as she could. She wondered if any other seven-year-old girls knew as much history as hers did. “And it’s time for the victory banquet.”

  Charlotte looked briefly interested in this new possibility for her game, but then she kept rocking enthusiastically on the elephant, as if the poor, lumbering thing could manage a gallop over the mountains. “It’s not time for the banquet yet,” Charlotte whined. “I still haven’t made it across the Alps to fight the Romans!”

  Leila very well recognized the stubborn jut of the girl’s chin, and she was just too tired to deal with it.

  Baron had taken Jane to the bathroom, and she couldn’t let her daughter get away with bad behavior, no matter how exhausted she was. “Charlotte, now,” Leila said, trying to convey authority in her tone as she put a hand on her aching back. “This is your last warning. Come to the table with me.”

  Charlotte looked over at her, hesitating and pausing in her ride. Then she scowled and patted the elephant's head. “Go, Carthage, go!” she cried, waving her hand in what was probably supposed to be a war rally.

  Leila was close to tears now, her eyes burning with fatigue. She’d been grading for two weeks straight. She hadn’t been sleeping well for the last month, since she could never seem to get comfortable. Plus, she was embarrassed over the scene Charlotte was making at the restaurant. It wasn’t a stuffy, formal place, but it was exclusive—since only the most influential guests could get reservations—and it felt like everyone was staring at her and wondering how the frumpy woman with the poorly-behaved child had managed to get inside the doors.

  Leila had tried to dress decently this evening in an expensive, navy blue cardigan and flowing pants set that didn’t wrinkle and draped somewhat attractively, but she still felt sloppy, with her hair slipping out of her low braid and her face red from the heat in the room and her frustration.

  “Charlotte, now,” she said, her voice sharper. “You’ve already lost your dessert tonight. If you don’t get down right now, you’ll lose something else.”

  Having to punish the girls had been exhausting lately, and she wondered if it was her fault that Charlotte was misbehaving now. Maybe she hadn’t been as strict as she should have been with them over the last couple of months.

  “Mommy, no!” Charlotte wailed, bringing even more unwanted attention to them. “I want dessert!”

  “Well, you can’t have it,” Leila said. “Now—”

  A male voice came from behind her then, unexpectedly. “Charlotte, obey your mother. Immediately.” Baron’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cracked like a whip.

  He had approached to stand beside Leila, holding a nervous-looking Jane by the hand.

  Charlotte’s face crumpled pitifully, and she crawled off the elephant, her knee-length blue skirt getting hiked up in the process in a way that made Leila sigh and hope no one else saw her daughter’s panties. Then Charlotte drooped with the rest of them to their table, whimpering a little.

  Both girls always deflated like popped balloons when Baron put his foot down with them.

  Leila was immensely relieved that the little incident was over. She gave Baron a grateful look when he put a supportive hand on her aching back as they walked.

  Then they all slid into their horseshoe-shaped banquette table, Leila a little awkwardly. She would have preferred a regular chair, but she wasn’t going to complain, since their table was obviously positioned the best in the restaurant.

  Charlotte cuddled up at her side, sniffling and shaking a little.

  Leila put her arm around her.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” the girl told her, stretching up to whisper the words in her ear.

  Leila smiled and relaxed. “That’s okay, sweetie,” she said, stroking the girl's messy hair. “Next time obey right away so you don’t have to lose your dessert.”

  Charlotte appeared quite dismayed over the loss of her favorite part of the meal and burrowed against Leila’s belly.

  Jane had been quiet and wide-eyed during the incident—both girls were always dreadfully uncomfortable when the other was getting in trouble—but she seemed to understand now that it was over. She perked up and started telling Leila and Baron about the tile mosaics of elephants, giraffes, dolphins, and panda bears in the bathroom.

  Their food came soon, and things settled down even more. Charlotte ate her food, although she was very subdued and kept slanting Baron worried, hesitant looks.

  Baron himself appeared handsome and composed in his black dress shirt, and he responded pleasantly to Jane's and Leila’s comments, but Leila thought he looked a little stretched. He’d been unusually tired too, she knew—since he’d had to pick up some of the parenting slack over the last month because Leila had so little energy.

  He didn’t say much to Charlotte. Leila knew it wasn’t because he was angry with her but because he was uncomfortable—afraid she was mad at him or had been hurt by his tone. Baron was still a little insecure about his ability to be a parent to the girls, no matter how often he proved himself to be an excellent one.

  When Charlotte finished her bread and mashed potatoes but only picked at her meatloaf, Baron asked the server for some ketchup. When it arrived, he handed it to the girl without comment. Charlotte, who had obviously been too anxious to ask for it herself, took it gratefully and dumped a generous portion onto her meatloaf.

  Leila felt bad that she hadn’t remembered to get
ketchup for Charlotte herself, but she couldn’t help but be touched by Baron’s silent consideration for the girls. He knew them so well now. He loved them.

  Leila and Jane got dessert—Baron didn’t, Leila was sure, so Charlotte wouldn’t be the only one without it. Jane had wanted to share her dessert with her sister, but Leila had to refuse the sweet gesture as it would take the teeth out of the punishment.

  They were finishing up when Charlotte asked in a tremulous voice, “Papa?”

  Baron rested quiet, dark eyes on the girl. “Yes, sweetheart.”

  Encouraged by his response, Charlotte straightened up a little. “Are you mad at me?”

  Leila felt a weird little ache in her chest when she saw his face crack slightly. “No. I’m not mad. I was disappointed that you disobeyed your mommy, but I’m not mad.”

  Charlotte’s little face relaxed. “I’m sorry.”

  Baron nodded and gave the girl a little smile. “Thank you.”

  Charlotte scooted over in the banquette toward Baron and stretched up, offering him her cheek. Baron leaned over to kiss it. “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, very, very softly.

  Charlotte beamed up at him. “I love you too, Papa.”

  Leila’s hormones were obviously completely out of control, since she was almost in tears as she watched them.

  She still remembered, four or five months ago, shortly after she and Baron had gotten married in their little church, when Jane had been stricken with a terrible ear infection. The poor thing was in horrible pain, and they couldn’t give her the prescribed pain reliever as often as she seemed to need it. Both Leila and Baron had stayed up with her, trying to ease her earache and comfort her.

  Jane had been lying on the couch with her head in Baron’s lap, tossing and turning and whimpering. Leila had been preparing another warm compress and was coming back into the living room when Jane suddenly cried out, “Daddy!” and reached a hand out blindly.

  Baron had been stroking the girl’s hair gently, but she saw his face twist at Jane’s pitiful cry. She knew how hard it would be for him to hear Jane cry out for her father in her distress. They’d reached a fairly workable system with Rick—he saw the girls every few months and, now that he’d gotten remarried, seemed satisfied with that level of contact—but Baron was obviously more of a father-figure to the girls than Rick had ever been.