Six-Week Marriage Miracle

by Jessica Matthews

  An image of the nursery they’d designed flashed his mind’s eye, accompanied by the scent of baby powder and the tinkling music of a crib mobile.

  “Would it be easier if we started over in a new house?” he asked. “A clean slate, so to speak?”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself again,” she pointed out. “We don’t even know if we can make a go of our relationship and you’re already talking about new homes?”

  She clearly still hadn’t bought into the notion they could make their marriage work, but he refused to consider otherwise.

  “I know everything between us is unsettled, but we have to approach our relationship as if it can and will succeed. If you recall, we both agreed we’d give this our full commitment, and that means we can’t entertain thoughts of failure.

  “Besides,” he continued, “I’m not suggesting we sell our house and buy a new one next week. My idea is simply something to think about, especially when we both know there’s one room you can’t bear to enter.”

  “Going into the nursery isn’t easy,” she admitted, “but even if our life together was settled, I’m not certain a new house is the answer, especially if you spend the majority of your time either at the office or jetting around the world. Any marriage where one party is thousands of miles and three time zones away three weeks out of every four is going to suffer under the strain. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to be philanthropic with your time.”

  “Like I said, Jack and Sheldon will be taking a more active role in the foundation,” he assured her.

  Wearing a puzzled wrinkle on her forehead, she met his gaze. “This sounds crazy, but I feel as if an imposter has replaced my real husband.”

  He smiled. “No imposter. I’m the real guy.”

  She paced a few steps before she faced him. “I appreciate your offer of a different house,” she finally said, “but let’s follow your advice to focus on us and deal with permanent living arrangements later.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, satisfied with his first real sign of progress.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER dinner that evening, Gabe pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair. “That was delicious, Leah. You always were a wonderful cook.”

  His praise brought a heated blush to Leah’s face. “It was only scrambled eggs and toast,” she chided. “Hardly an impressive meal.”

  “Maybe not to you, but it was to me. ‘Impressive’ is a matter of perspective.”

  “I suppose,” she said, unconvinced by his assurance but grateful for his appreciation, “but I should have fixed something more substantial, like the chicken breast or the sirloin steak we bought this afternoon.”

  “Or we could have gone out for dinner, as I suggested,” he said.

  After hurriedly packing her necessities and driving them across town in their vehicles, she’d wanted to organize the kitchen and her closet before calling an end to the day. Visiting a restaurant would have taken far more of her evening than she’d wanted to spare.

  Plus, she’d have been Gabe’s captive audience while their meal was being prepared. She wasn’t ready for that, yet. It was one thing to have a civil conversation in the privacy of their home. It was another to hold a conversation where they would be under public scrutiny.

  “It would have taken longer to get ready than it did to scramble a few eggs,” she remarked, “and chances were we would have run into someone we knew who would have wanted to visit. I still have a lot I’d like to accomplish tonight.”

  The real problem, in her eyes, had been the possibility of well-meaning friends congratulating them on being a couple again. She certainly didn’t want to navigate that particular minefield.

  “Whatever the reason, I appreciate the trouble you went to. Simple meal or not, what I had was perfect,” he declared. “After all, just this morning you said I needed to go easy on my stomach.”

  “It seems like we had that conversation ages ago.”

  “Considering how hard you worked this afternoon, I’m not surprised,” he said. “Where you found the energy to accomplish what we did, I’ll never know.”

  “I didn’t do that much,” she said.

  Gabe had wanted to empty her house, lock, stock and barrel, but she hadn’t been ready to go that far. Fortunately, she’d been able to use the excuse of minimal storage and Gabe’s sore ribs to dissuade him. However, she sensed he would have ignored his sore ribs to haul whatever she wanted, regardless of how big, bulky or heavy it was.

  “We could have accomplished more if you’d let me,” he complained good-naturedly.

  “You heard the doctor’s orders. No lifting.”

  “And I obeyed,” he answered.

  “Then why did I end up scolding you for carrying boxes you shouldn’t?”

  Remembering how she’d huffed whenever she’d caught him, then pull the load out of his arms, brought a smile to Gabe’s face. At first, he’d been affronted by how little she’d allowed him to carry. Then it had become a game to see how much he could get away with. Best of all, being caught and hearing her scold only meant that she cared, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it…

  To his great relief, though, most of her things were back at home where they belonged, the refrigerator and pantry had been restocked, and the house that had previously looked like a model home now had a lived-in appearance.

  He couldn’t be happier.

  Well, he could be, he amended, if Leah had moved into the master suite instead of the guest room, but being under the same roof was better than the alternative and with luck the hall would only separate them for a short time. Meanwhile, his vision of Leah tucking her finger under his collar and leading him upstairs would give him something to dream about and work toward…

  “More coffee?” she asked as she rose to grab his mug.

  “I’ve had enough caffeine for one day. I won’t sleep tonight as it is.” At her questioning glance, he added, “Too excited about being home, I guess.”

  “It doesn’t quite seem real yet, does it?” she asked softly.

  “No. I’m half-afraid I’ll wake up and find myself still in the jungle,” he confessed.

  “I’ve been thinking along the same lines—that I’ll discover your return was nothing more than wishful thinking.”

  He nodded, grateful she understood his fears so clearly. He only hoped she didn’t press for details about the crash or the events afterwards. Yes, he’d answer because being open and honest was part of their agreement, but he’d really rather not revisit such a traumatic episode when he wanted to revel in her company on their first night together.

  “I’m sure the truth will soak in soon enough,” he said casually. “I certainly wouldn’t be able to ignore the facts if you warmed your cold toes against my leg. How your feet can be such icicles, I’ll never know.”

  Her answering chuckle was a melody he hadn’t heard for a long while. He wasn’t particularly surprised by how rusty it sounded—she’d had little to laugh about during the past few years. As for the smile she gave him…it was the sort that brightened a man’s day no matter how difficult or ugly it had been, and reminded him of the girl in the carnival photo. The joyful woman with whom he’d fallen in love hadn’t disappeared—she’d only been hiding behind a dark cloud.

  Restoring their formerly close relationship suddenly seemed elementary. The key to rekindling their marriage was to rekindle Leah’s spark, he decided, and he was just the man to do it.

  “It’s a gift,” she said virtuously. “Although I recall offering to wear socks.”

  “My way of warming up your feet was more fun.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

  Once again, her face turned a familiar rosy hue. “It was,” she agreed. “Good thing it’s summer and cold feet aren’t a problem. Shall we clear the dishes? I’m ready to relax for a while.”

  As she jumped up, he also rose. “Relaxing on the deck sounds good,” he said, carrying his own place setting to the sink. “But do you know
the best part about dinner tonight?”

  “So few dishes?”

  “Hardly. It reminded me of old times.”

  Her hands froze over the faucet and she stared at him as if he’d sprouted an extra nose. “Old times?”

  “Yeah. Remember when we were first married? I’d come home from the hospital, starving to death but too exhausted to stay awake, and you’d fix this very meal for me so I could eat before I fell asleep on my feet.”

  She smiled, her tentative expression disappearing again. “And sometimes you did. I always said I should publish a cookbook—101 Scrambled Egg Recipes.”

  “Or created your own show on the Food Network.”

  This time she laughed, a full-bodied laugh that sounded like the carefree Leah she’d once been. The same Leah who’d found happiness in small things like sunsets, the neighbor girl’s kitten, and the wildflower he’d pilfered from Mrs. O’Shea’s garden near their garage before he’d walked in the door. The same Leah who hadn’t been able to wait for their love to grow into a family.

  “It wouldn’t have been on the air long,” she said lightly as she shut off the faucet and slid their plates into the soapy water. “Frankly, I was getting to the point where I thought I’d sprout feathers if I swallowed another egg, scrambled or otherwise. I shudder to think what our cholesterol levels were.”

  “Ah, but back then I didn’t care. I was more interested in sleep, food, and…” he snaked an arm around her waist, pulled her close and planted a swift kiss against her mouth “…my wife, although not necessarily in that order.”

  Her small intake of breath proved that she definitely wasn’t immune to his touch. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What I should have done a long time ago,” he told her. “I’m focusing on us.”

  Leah knew that for the next six weeks to be bearable, they had to find their footing when dealing with each other. Over the next two days they talked and they laughed, but controversial subjects were avoided, although she didn’t know if that was by chance or design. Oddly enough, she found herself feeling…content.

  She told herself it was only because she was within weeks of settling her life once and for all. She’d obtain Gabe’s signature and that would be that. Her feelings had nothing to do with discovering how she could enjoy his company.

  However well their temporary truce was holding, the door at the top of the stairs remained locked. She would have to venture inside to face her ghosts before long because her grace period would eventually run out, but in the meantime she’d lump that ugly bit of their past in with what he’d called “the rest of the stuff”.

  The only tense moments came when Leah followed Gabe into their house after the memorial service for his colleagues. Although he seemed to be bearing up well, she recognized the strain he’d been hiding underneath the smiles he’d shown to everyone.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  He jerked at his Windsor knot as he headed into his office. “I’ve had enough caffeine, thanks.”

  She trailed after him. “A glass of wine?”

  “No.”

  “Something to eat? I noticed you didn’t sample any of the snacks after the ceremony.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  His clipped tone spoke volumes about his mood, but Leah knew how destructive brooding was. How ironic to find herself in circumstances where their former roles were reversed. This time he was the one hurting and she was the one who wanted to banish the pain but couldn’t find the key to doing so.

  “Okay,” she said with equanimity as he sank into his executive chair. “When you are, let me know.” She perched on the desk’s edge. “You delivered a beautiful eulogy today. I know how difficult it was to share your personal stories and anecdotes.”

  “Their families deserved to hear them.”

  “You did an excellent job. I didn’t know Will and Ramon as well as you did, but from the few times I’d been around them, I could tell you’d described their personalities and characters perfectly.”

  “They were good men.”

  “Theresa was especially grateful for your kind words. She said she has more wonderful things to tell her baby when he grows up.” She paused. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

  “She just found out. Ramon never knew.”

  “I’m sure he does now,” she said softly.

  He made a noise that could have meant anything from agreement to skepticism. “What did you feel when she told you?” he asked.

  She thought for a moment. “Surprise. Sadness that she’d have to raise the baby alone and that Ramon would never enjoy being a father. Happiness that she’d have someone to remember him by, not that she’ll need a child to help her remember the man she loved.

  “And…” she drew a bracing breath, hoping Gabe would share his confidences if she shared hers “…I was a little angry. Angry at life for being so unfair.”

  He nodded slowly. “Me, too. I felt all of that, and then some.”

  “You did? I couldn’t tell.”

  “I did,” he assured her. “Just like before.”

  She finally faced a hard truth. “I was so wrapped up in my own pain that I didn’t see yours, did I?”

  He sighed. “Neither of us handled our losses well. Let’s hope we’ve learned from our mistakes.”

  “I also felt something else,” she added tentatively. “Disappointment.”

  “Because you can’t get pregnant?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “I’ve accepted that. I was disappointed because my husband knew about Theresa’s condition and didn’t tell me. You don’t have to protect me, Gabe. I can handle it.”

  He met her gaze. “Handle it, how? Like the way you still won’t walk past the OB unit after nearly two years?”

  Ouch. “Okay, maybe I don’t deal with the excitement and joy as well as I should, but it would have been easier for me if I’d been prepared to hear her talk about the baby.”

  “You’re right. I should have mentioned her news.”

  “You’re forgiven,” she said lightly. “Frankly, I’m overwhelmed just thinking of what she’ll face as she raises this child on her own—dealing with hormones, teenage angst and hi-jinks. It won’t be easy.”

  “She won’t be alone,” he said. “She’ll have plenty of support from her family, Ramon’s family, Jack, and all of us who worked with him.”

  Leah suspected he considered himself a large part of that support, especially when she thought about what he’d done for the single mother-to-be so far. He could say what he wanted, but guilt probably fueled a huge part of his motivation.

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself, you know.”

  “I don’t. Not about the plane crash, anyway,” he corrected. “Who could have known we’d fly into a flock of blasted birds?”

  “But you still feel responsible.”

  He fell silent. “Yes.”

  At least he’d finally admitted it. “Because you survived and he didn’t?”

  He fell silent for several long seconds. “He was alive when Jack and I found him, you know. We did everything we could, but he didn’t hang on like I begged him to. He just…slipped away.”

  “I gathered as much from your nightmares, but you’re doing a nice thing, Gabe. You established a college fund for his child and paid off his mortgage so his son or daughter would always have a place to live.”

  “It would have been nicer if I could have saved him.”

  That, her intuition told her, was really why he was struggling with the tragedy. “You were in the jungle,” she reminded him. “Not in a fully equipped emergency department or surgical suite.”

  “He had so much to live for. Why him? Why Will? Why them and not the rest of us?”

  “That’s one of the mysteries of life. The thing is, there were three medical professionals at the scene, and one of them was the woman he loved. If he couldn’t hang on for her then he physically wasn’t able to, and you shouldn’t feel as if
you failed.”

  He smiled at her. “For an amateur psychologist, you’re a pretty smart gal.”

  “It’s nice of you to notice.”

  “By the way, we’re leaving tomorrow at seven a.m.”

  She sighed. She’d been hoping he’d had second thoughts about his latest trip. “Then we’re still going?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess because you haven’t mentioned a word about it. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

  “I haven’t. Sheldon arranged for the cargo to be loaded today so we’ll be ready for takeoff as soon as we arrive at the airport.” He studied her a moment. “You really aren’t happy about this, are you?”

  “No,” she said bluntly.

  “Why not?”

  “One, you seem awfully eager to go. Like you did before.” A cold, foreboding chill ran down her arms. This was the way the distance between them had first started, and how it had grown with each subsequent trip. She’d stayed at home with nothing to occupy herself but her thoughts while he’d jetted around the world, seemingly without a care.

  “Eager isn’t the right word. This isn’t a holiday.”

  Her fears churning like Grand Canyon rapids, she began to pace. “Exactly. You’re working and you said you wouldn’t.”

  “Leah—” he began.

  She held up her hands to forestall his arguments. “I know. This is only for three days.”

  “And it’s strictly a mission of mercy,” he told her. “Or are you implying I can’t ever respond to a critical need anywhere ever again?”

  “No, but I don’t like the way you took away my choice, Gabe. You reduced this Mexico trip to an obligation, a condition, when it should have been, at the very least, a mutual decision.”

  He looked thoughtful, as if he realized his mistake. “Okay, so I handled that poorly, but I was desperate. I wanted you with me because I was afraid if I left, even for a few days, I’d lose my advantage and, ultimately, I’d lose you, too.”

  “Gabe,” she said softly, “we’d already negotiated to spend the next six weeks together. Did you think so little of me that I’d renege on our agreement?”