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Marriage Is Just The Beginning
Betty Jane Sanders
We'll marry for the child….That's what Grant Parker and Sharon O'Riley agreed to when they went down the aisle together. But then there was that kiss….A kiss that changed a lonely widower into an expectant husband whose heart thudded for the wife in the bedroom next door….A kiss that transformed a plain jane like Sharon into a blushing bride….Somewhere between tucking their sweet daughter into bed and sharing breakfast with her new family, Sharon realized she wanted more out of her marriage–she wanted Grant! But could a prim-and-practical woman convince her ruggedly handsome husband to love again?
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u35214233-6114-5c3e-ba4d-a23cf7891ebb)
Excerpt (#u94c243a9-1356-55ef-b55a-6d5807e58861)
Dear Reader (#uc2abc403-0e23-50f6-a7e9-15aff6451948)
Title Page (#uc7378521-bf69-51d7-baa5-a52fc3227609)
Dedication (#u4b61e8b0-c489-514e-915f-7d381aa4d198)
About the Author (#u374eecfb-c735-52cf-9387-f9864616a1ef)
Chapter One (#uf8806609-cae8-5f76-90fb-edd7360107e9)
Chapter Two (#uce2ae663-53ff-59b7-ab91-5f043b8f71b0)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“You may kiss the bride.”
The words echoed in the sudden silence. Grant turned to face her and Sharon tilted her head, then grinned and winked.
This was Grant, her best friend, offering nothing more than a friendly kiss to seal a bargain, Sharon told herself as he slowly lowered his head. Her eyes fluttered shut; her breath caught as his lips settled against hers.
The soft, gentle kiss ended far too quickly.
She opened her eyes to meet his gaze—a puzzled gaze that clung to her lips like a touch and had her heart hammering wildly. A shimmering awareness seemed to hang between them.
Then Grant cleared his throat and stepped back.
And the moment died so quickly, Sharon wondered if she had imagined it.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another wonderful month at Silhouette Romance. In the midst of these hot summer days, why not treat yourself (come on, you know you deserve it) by relaxing in the shade with these romantically satisfying love stories.
What’s a millionaire bachelor posing as a working-class guy to do after he agrees to baby-sit his cranky infant niece? Run straight into the arms of a very beautiful pediatrician who desperately wants a family of her own, of course! Don’t miss this delightful addition to our BUNDLES OF JOY series with Baby Business by Laura Anthony.
The ever-enchanting award-winning author Sandra Steffen is back with the second installment of her enthralling BACHELOR GULCH miniseries. This time it’s the local sheriff who’s got to lasso his lady love in Wyatt’s Most Wanted Wife.
And there are plenty of more great romances to be found this month. Moyra Tarling brings you an emotionally compelling marriage-of-convenience story with Marry In Haste. A gal from the wrong side of the tracks is reunited with the sexy fire fighter she’d once won at a bachelor auction (imagine the interesting stories they’ll have to tell) in Cara Colter’s Husband In Red RITA Award-winning author Elizabeth Sites is back with a terrific Western love story centering around a legendary wedding gown in The Rainbow Bride. And when best friends marry for the sake of a child, they find out that real love can follow, in Marriage Is Just the Beginning by Betty Jane Sanders.
So curl up with an always-compelling Silhouette Romance novel and a refreshing glass of lemonade, and enjoy the summer!
Melissa Senate
Senior Editor
Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Marriage Is Just the Beginning
Betty Jane Sanders
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Lee, always.
BETTY JANE SANDERS
With the publication of His Secret Son, a 1994 Golden Heart winner, Betty’s dream of becoming a published author had come true.
Betty has lived in Alaska since 1980, with her husband of twenty-plus years. Her hobbies include spending time with her husband, skiing, snow machining, walking her dog (a springer spaniel named Brittany), hiking, biking, boating, scuba diving, reading, writing, drawing and painting.
Chapter One (#ulink_b2fd082b-3a0f-5b9d-b6c9-aa5a318ba4b9)
Six-year-old Cassie’s giggles spilled down the hall, easily reaching the kitchen. Sharon paused, a plate in hand, to savor the sound. Brittany barked—a puppy yelp. It was followed by a sudden splash of bathwater. Cassie squealed, Brittany barked again and Sharon cringed. She quickly put the last of the plates in the dishwasher, then hurried down the hall.
Fragments of bubbles floated in the bathwater. Cassie had soap in her hair and brows, while foam clung to her chin like a small goatee. Brittany lay in the tub in front of Cassie, a puff of soap perched atop her head. Sharon groaned. The puppy cocked her head and cracked her jaw in a doggie smile.
Sharon fought a grin and dropped her hands to her hips, trying to scowl fiercely. “Cassie Parker! What am I going to do with the two of you?” She arched a brow at the little girl, and Cassie laughed in answer—a bubble of pure joy that filled the room. Laughing was something the child hadn’t done often enough the past few months. Warmth flooded Sharon’s heart at the sound.
“I didn’t tell her to, Sharon. Honest. She just jumped in when I wasn’t looking. All by herself.”
Sharon shot a stern look at the nine-month-old springer spaniel. The dog’s long ears floated on top of the water. With her bright eyes, she appeared anything but repentant. “You are hopeless, the both of you. I can’t even turn my back on you for a minute,” she mock-scolded.
Brittany reached over, licked the soap goatee from Cassie’s chin and barked, bubbles spilling from her mouth. Cassie sputtered with laughter, then she grabbed the liverand-white puppy to her bare chest in a hug.
“Don’t be mad, Sharon. Brittany didn’t mean to be bad.” Her shining eyes—Grant’s eyes—begged forgiveness. Just as his had countless times throughout the years, and just as easily melted Sharon’s heart.
Perhaps it was her destiny to be won over by those thickly lashed Parker eyes, so dark blue they bordered on black, be it father’s or daughter’s. She shook her head with a sigh, leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and just watched, as a rush of love flooded her.
“Brittany is my very best friend. I love her,” Cassie declared, pink coloring her cheeks. Black hair the exact shade of Grant’s slipped from where it was pinned at the top of her head.
Sharon smiled, then went to kneel next to the tub and tuck a strand of hair beneath a pin. “Well, best friends or not, we had better get her out of the tub and dried. Otherwise you won’t be able to have her on the bed tonight.”
As if she understood, Brittany leaped from the tub, then shook herself, spraying water and soap every direction. “Brittany,” Sharon gasped.
Brittany ducked her head and woofed. Cassie snorted and choked, trying to swallow her laughter, while Sharon rolled her eyes, then grabbed a towel and began drying the pup. Then she turned to Cassie, fresh towel in hand. “Your turn, little goose.”
Cassie giggled and climbed out of the tub with a splash of water and a flurry of slim arms and legs. Bittersweet warmth spiraled through Sharon at the way the little girl snuggled into the thick bath towel and leaned against her, hungry for contact from a woman and for a hug or a kiss, which Sharon happily gave. The child needs a mother, she thought with a sudden ache of heart. An ache that lessened only slightly when she squeezed Cassie.in a tight hug, as if she were able to somehow make up for the loss.
If only she could.
She slowly released the girl and reached for a soft, flannel nightgown that swallowed Cassie, the little girl’s bony ankles poking out below the hem. She stood and turned, and came face-to-face with herself in the steam-rimmed mirror.
Her thick, russet curls corkscrewed in every direction, as usual, heedless of attempts to tame them. Her round cheeks were flushed, her brown eyes wide and full of suppressed good humor.
At one time she would have grimaced and wrinkled her freckled nose in despair, but now she just shrugged with a grin. She had long accepted that no one would ever beat down the door to put her on the front of a glamour magazine, and that there were worse things in life than being plain.
Two bedtime stories and one damp pup later, Cassie raced from the living room to the spare bedroom, Brittany galloping at her heels. They jumped into bed as one as Sharon entered the room. Cassie turned with outstretched arms for a soap-scented hug and a slightly wet kiss that wrapped an iron-clad fist of love around Sharon’s heart and promised no relief.
She wanted no relief.
A little over a year ago her childhood friend, Grant, had returned to Valdez with his wife, Catherine, a tall, elegant blond beauty with a cool manner. Everything that Sharon was not. And with them was their tiny daughter, Cassie, the image of Grant when he was young.
Sharon had fallen in love with Cassie, as she had fallen in love with Grant years ago. But this time it was a love eagerly returned, making Sharon ache with happiness and long with all her heart for a little girl, a child of her own. And mourn once again the fact that she would never be a mother.
She pushed the dark thought away and dropped one last kiss on Cassie’s warm cheek. She left the little girl, covers pulled to her chin, whispering to Brittany, who snuggled next to her and was doing her utmost to hog the pillow.
Sharon probably shouldn’t let the dog sleep there, but Brittany had been a highlight in Cassie’s life in the several months since Catherine’s death from cancer. So much so that Sharon had considered giving Brittany to Cassie as a gift. But her own heart had been so totally won by the puppy that she couldn’t bear to part with her. Instead, she made sure that Cassie had lots of time to spend with the dog. Sharon refused to deprive Cassie of anything that made her happy.
Wind moaned around the eaves as Sharon paused at the living room window. Snow swirled and danced in the night, captured by streetlight, while naked tree branches bent and swayed with the storm.
Not the best of nights to be driving back from Anchorage, she thought, and hoped that Grant would get in soon. Three hundred miles of often winding, steep roads made more dangerous by darkness and thickly falling snow. It was hard not to worry.
He could probably make the drive with his eyes closed, she reminded herself, then pulled the drapes, able to shut the storm out but not her concern. No doubt because she had been worrying about Grant most of her life, off and on. She shook her head at the thought. Old habits were hard to break.
She flipped the front porch light on, then padded down the hall to check on Cassie. The house seemed warmer, snugger, more a home with the child there. Cassie lay on her side, one hand folded beneath her cheek, the other nesting on Brittany’s neck. Nose to nose, sharing the pillow.
When she was fourteen, Sharon had dreamed of doing this very thing, except the child she would be checking on would be her own. And the father, Grant, would be at Sharon’s side.
Stuff that fantasies were made of, little to do with reality, she thought with a soft smile. Even as a teenager she should have known better. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Grant, with his dark good looks, was not interested in his childhood friend. Hope died hard, but a few years later she finally accepted that he never would be hers, and she settled for friendship, instead.
Sharon shrugged memory aside and turned back toward the living room to curl on the couch in a puddle of lamplight. She pulled an afghan over her lap, book in hand, to listen to the groan and whisper of the storm at the windows. And to wait for Grant.
Thick snow swirled through the black of night, quickly adding depth to the eight inches on the ground, coating the windshield almost faster than the wipers could push it aside. A gust of wind rocked the four-wheel drive. Grant slowed his speed. January. The heart of another dark Alaskan winter that had settled with a vengeance over the land.
Not that it mattered to him. Seasons and weather were something out of his control. He had learned, while growing up, that winter in Valdez meant short days, long evenings, delayed or canceled flights, which was why he was driving back from Anchorage. There would be over three hundred inches of snow by spring if Valdez got her average snowfall. They were well on their way to the average. All a fact of life that no amount of complaining could change.
He used to look forward to winter, the first snow, skis waxed, snow machines tuned. Now the skis were covered with dust, the snow machines untouched, and likely to remain that way.
He wheeled the pickup into town, streetlamps casting light and shadow along empty streets. A neon pink-andyellow sign flashed from a bar window, washing brilliant color across the snow. The grocery store was darkened, the parking lot vacant except for one lone, battered sedan quickly being covered with fresh snow.
Sharon’s front porch light reached through the darkness in welcome. The soft glow of a lamp behind the living room curtain told him she was probably up, waiting, though he had told her not to. He should have known to save his breath.
Grant smiled in spite of himself, tension easing as he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. He slid from the pickup, weariness fading as he strode to the front porch. The door swung open as he reached for it.
“Grant.”
Sharon’s voice was soft, her hair a riot of curls. Baggy gray sweats hung from her slender frame.
“You made good time. Come in. Come in.”
She pulled him through the door, snow swirling behind. And reached for his coat even as he shrugged out of it, an action for both them as natural as breathing.
“Would you like some hot chocolate? I just put some on.”
“Got any chocolate chip cookies?” he asked. She grinned, eyes warm with humor, pulling a smile from him in answer. She always baked cookies when Cassie was around. And they were always chocolate chip, both his and Cassie’s favorite.
They headed into the kitchen together. There Sharon filled stoneware mugs while Grant piled a plate high with fresh-baked cookies. She settled across the table from him, and a comfortable silence surrounded them, broken by the murmur of the storm outside, the steady tick-tick of the kitchen clock, Sharon sipping her hot chocolate.
Grant could close his eyes and re-create the familiar scene. The sounds. The scent of her house. Sharon’s soft, red-brown curls framing winter-pale skin sprinkled with freckles; the darkness of her velvet brown eyes.
Eyes he suddenly realized were fixed on him, a frown creasing her brow. He put down his mug, recognizing that look.
“Problems?” he asked, not certain he really wanted to know.
She started to shake her head, then stopped, setting her mug aside. “I’m worried about you.” She held out a hand when he started to protest. “You work too much, Grant. When do you have time for fun anymore? When was the last time you wanted to have fun?”
The words spilled from her faster than he could stop them.
“Two sitters in three months. I know it’s not your fault these women seem to think Cassie is a way into your bed and your heart, but what are you going to do, Grant? I know you are still grieving, but—”
He placed a finger against her lips. A brief touch that stopped the flow of words better than argument could.
Grieving? Yes and no, but he wasn’t about to correct her. There were some things he couldn’t talk about, even with Sharon.
“I know you worry, Mom,” he teased gently. “Things should slow down at work one of these days, and I will find a sitter.”
As for Catherine…
The clock chimed twelve times. He hesitated, then shrugged and scooted the chair back. “I had better get Cassie and head home.”
Sharon studied him briefly, shook her head with a sigh.
He knew the argument was not over. Sharon never gave up that easy.
“It’s too late to argue. I’ll bag some cookies for you to take,” she finally said.
Grant nodded, then left her to the task.
The bedroom was dark except for the faint illumination from a night-light washing across Cassie. She was sleeping on her back, mouth slightly parted, one arm flung to the side, the other wrapped around Brittany’s neck.
The pup cracked an eye, head nestled across Cassie’s chest. Her tail began to thump, slow, then fast and faster, as Grant walked into the room.
He knelt by the bed and reached to touch Cassie’s cheek. A soft, reverent touch. This child of his, so tiny and perfect, with a fragile beauty and a hold on his heart so strong that it sometimes terrified him.
“Daddy?” Her eyes fluttered open.
“Hello, pumpkin,” he whispered.
He gently lifted her, her thin arms squeezing round his neck in a vise-grip hug that defied efforts to breathe. Breathing wasn’t important. Nothing was important except for the little girl in his arms. He closed his eyes, bathed in her scent and reveled in the silken cheek pressed against his, in the warmth that rushed through him. The feeling of coming home, of rightness, when he held his daughter.
He finally relaxed the hug, then sat on the bed, Cassie in his lap, to greet Brittany, who wiggled and whined with impatience. She leaned into Grant, head planted in Cassie’s lap, while he scratched behind a silken ear.
“Brittany is my best friend,” Cassie said sleepily against his chest. “Except for Sharon. I love Sharon the best—no, I love you the best, Daddy. And then Sharon. And then Brittany.”
Grant swallowed hard. “I know you do, pumpkin,” he said in a husky voice.
Sharon waited in the living room, Cassie’s small suitcase standing by the door. “I put the cookies in the suitcase, she said. Cassie bent toward Sharon, hooked a small arm around her neck and dragged her against Grant’s shoulder for a goodbye kiss, while Brittany leaned into his legs.
Sharon’s head stopped at his jaw. She was no taller than she’d been in ninth grade. She smelled of soap and lemon-scented shampoo, and her warmth burned through his jacket.
“I love you, Sharon,” Cassie whispered loudly.
Sharon hugged back with a gentle laugh, then disentangled herself. “I love you, too, little goose.” She handed Grant a blanket to wrap around Cassie. .
Grant finished the task, then reached to ruffle Sharon’s curls. “I owe you, once again.”
Sharon pushed his hand away with a grin. “Hey, you know I spent hours fixing that do! And you know you don’t owe me anything except…well, maybe dinner out next week. Chinese?” Her grin faded. “Seriously, Grant, you know I don’t mind helping out. It’s all part of being friends.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been pretty friendly lately,” he said softly. “And I will be grateful if I want to.”
He turned toward the door and picked up Cassie’s suitcase. “Call me tomorrow,” Sharon said, then pulled the door open and ushered them out. She stood in the glow of the porch light, shivering, watching until they pulled out of the drive and started down the road.
Though it was only a few miles, Cassie was asleep by the time they drove up the hill to the house. The house he had built to try to make Catherine happy. And now lived alone in with his daughter.
Not that he could blame Catherine for her death; even he could not be so heartless. But before—
Steely resolve clamped a fist on the thought and squashed the life from it before it was completed. Grant did not have time to wallow in the past. Streetlights washed the other lots, empty except for four feet of snow, before finally capturing his house at the end of the cul de sac, standing alone in the shoulder of the mountain overlooking town.
The few lights on in the town below seemed to flicker, one or two here, a handful over there. Startled bursts of yellow-white against the swirling snow, which was now slowing, thinning to a mere flurry. Light from the Alyeska Pipeline Marine Terminal reached from across the arm of Prince William Sound. A faint light that stretched upward with long, buttery fingers to brush at the dark shadows of snow-filled mountains slowly materializing as the clouds began to lift.
The door to the three-car garage slid open. The far stall was filled with snow machines, snow blower and an assortment of skis and garden tools, bicycles, gas grill and lawn chairs, fishing poles and hip-waders that had cracked from age and disuse. The other two stalls were unoccupied until Grant pulled the pickup in.
They were a reminder the house was empty, as if he needed one. That he alone was responsible for the health and welfare of the tiny girl slumped against his side in sleep. And once again, that he was without a baby-sitter.
Frustration swept him, so sudden and strong that he wanted to slam a fist against the steering wheel. What did he have to do to find someone who wasn’t more interested in him than his daughter? Instead of abusing the pickup, he pushed the automatic opener and listened to the door grumble to a close. Taking a deep breath, he gathered Cassie in his arms and made his way into the cool, silent house to her room.
He pulled blankets close up under her chin, then brushed a knuckle against her silken cheek. He had to find another baby-sitter, one who would fill their needs without wanting to occupy his bed. In the meantime, Cassie would keep on going to day care during the day. And he would continue to rely on Sharon for help.
Three days later, Grant learned he needed to go to Southern California for a week. He called on Sharon once again.
“Of course I will watch her,” she immediately agreed.
“I’m sorry to have to be a bother—”
“Don’t be silly, Grant. You needn’t worry about me. It’s Cassie you should be worried about.” She paused, then quietly added, “You’re spending too much time away from her.”
“I have to go,” he said, and wasn’t sure whom he was trying to convince.
“I don’t want you to.”
Cassie’s lower lip was thrust out, trembling, when he told her that evening. Pain squeezed his heart at the sight of tears shimmering in her eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing her to him with a hug. “You’ll get to be with Sharon for a whole week. Plus your buddy Brittany. And I’ll bring you something really special.”
She brightened a little at that, but still cried when he dropped her off at Sharon’s Sunday evening.
Guilt clung to him like a dark shroud as he flew from Valdez to Anchorage, then Seattle and on to Irvine. Guilt that once again he was asking Sharon for help, and once more he was leaving Cassie behind.
Yet his job as construction manager demanded it. This very job allowed him to provide Cassie with anything she needed and then some. He would give his daughter the world if he could, and if that demanded sacrifice, he would sacrifice.
A fact his father-in-law was quick to point out the following evening.
“We both know without question that you are trying, that you are doing the best you can for Cassie…under the circumstances.” Hugh leaned into the restaurant table toward Grant, while the murmur of voices filled the air around them.
“I appreciate that,” Grant answered as a prickle of apprehension raced along his spine. Perhaps it was the way that Hugh reached for Dorothy’s hand, as if to reassure her or maybe gain support. Perhaps it was the way that Dorothy would not meet Grant’s gaze, but instead nervously toyed with the linen napkin. Or maybe it was the unbidden memory of how they had pushed him away during Catherine’s illness. Whatever, Grant suddenly wished he hadn’t told them he was going to be in town for business. He should have dissuaded them from driving up from San Diego to meet him for dinner.
The conversation died, and silence held sway while the waiter cleared their dinner dishes and poured coffee. Then they had to talk, had to do something other than sit mutely, separated by far more than just a table.
Hugh drained his wineglass, cleared his throat. Then he squared his thin shoulders and met Grant’s gaze. “We were wondering if…thinking that maybe Cassie would be better off with us.”
Grant arched a brow, choosing his words with care. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s best that she stay home for a while, until we get better adjusted to the situation. Maybe this spring she can come and spend a few days.”
“And how many baby-sitters will you have gone through by then? How many business trips?” Red slowly climbed Hugh’s neck.
Grant stiffened. “I can’t—”
“Son, we aren’t suggesting that you don’t love Cassie. We aren’t suggesting she come for a visit, either.”
He said the words so quietly that for a minute, Grant thought he’d heard wrong. Until Hugh continued.
“I think we can offer her a more stable home than you seem able to do.”
Shock washed through Grant with a coldness that left him speechless. He could only stare at his father-in-law, and feel every ounce of blood drain from his face.
Then anger swept him, so overwhelming he gripped the edge of the table to force himself not to physically strike the man who sat before him. A man he had admired and thought of as being the father Grant had lost to a fishing vessel accident when he was a child. The man who had the nerve to suggest, for even a minute, that he give up Cassie.
He should have expected something like this after the way they’d acted while Catherine was ill, but he hadn’t. He didn’t dare release his hold on the table while he fought to remain silent, to remain seated until he had a semblance of control over the rage roaring through his veins.
Finally, he swallowed hard, then slowly stood until he towered above Hugh and Dorothy. He placed both hands flat on the tabletop and leaned slightly toward them. “Icicles will grow in Hell before anyone takes Cassie from me,” he said quietly.
He turned and walked away without a backward glance.
By the end of the week, the bank lobby was a hub of activity. Customers rushed in to take care of last-minute business just prior to closing. Phones rang; voices rose in a murmur, punctuated by a shouted greeting or burst of laughter.
Sharon looked up from her office and watched with pleasure the swift efficiency with which the tellers handled the customers’ needs. The past week had been good for business, Cassie a pleasure to have, and now Grant was home, a day early.
She frowned. Grant. She worried about him, about the effect his absences were having on Cassie. About—
The phone rang, jerking her from her thoughts. “Sharon speaking.”
“Sharon, Grant here. Hey, I need a favor. I’m in the middle of a meeting and—”
“You’re going to be late—could I pick Cassie up, Sharon quietly finished for him. “Grant, you just got back. Don’t you think—”
“There is nothing I can do about it,” he said. “Can you help me out?”
She sighed. “You know I can, but you owe Cassie, bigtime. I’ll take her to my place and bake cookies or something.”
“Don’t do dinner. I’ll pick up pizza.” He hung up.
“Pizza!” Sharon slapped the receiver down harder than necessary, glaring at it as if she could somehow conjure Grant in its place. She pushed back her anger, then stood and reached for her coat. Cassie was going to be disappointed.
Cassie was nowhere in sight when Sharon stepped into the brightly lit room at day care. Jean Simon, the owner, walked over to greet her.
“Cassie is in the time-out room.”
Sharon’s heart sank. “That’s the third time this week.”
Jean nodded, mass of blond curls bouncing, as they turned toward a small hall. “I tried calling Grant, but he’s been in meetings all day. This has been a bad week, although, to be honest, I almost prefer a Cassie with a temper to the silent little ghost she was for a while. Anything different going on at home?”
Other than an absentee father?
Sharon didn’t say the words they were probably both thinking. Instead, she replied, “Not that I know of. What happened this time?”
“She got into a fight with Johnny Whitaker.”
“He’s twice her size!”
“Yeah, well.” Jean shook her head with a small smile. “All I can say is, she’s got a future in boxing if she wants it.” They paused at the door. “She looks pretty bad, but if it helps, he’s got two shiners. And his parents aren’t going to cause any problems. I think they were both so embarrassed he got beaten up by a girl they would just as soon forget it happened.” She swung the door open, then left.
Cassie sat in an orange plastic chair, shoulders hunched, head hung, legs slowly swinging.
“Cassie?” Sharon walked toward her. Cassie slowly raised her head, right eye nearly swollen shut, circled with black and blue, with a little green and purple thrown in. Sharon swallowed a gasp and forced herself not to rush forward, instead folding her arms across her chest.
“He called me a name,” Cassie said, chin thrust out, good eye narrowing.
“And you couldn’t have just ignored him?”
Silence answered the question they both knew wasn’t really a question.
“Daddy working late tonight?” Cassie asked defiantly.
She looked small and defenseless. Pain pinched Sharon’s heart.
“Yes,” she answered, then opened her arms. “Come on over here for a hug.”
Cassie hesitated a second, then slid from the chair. Sharon squeezed the little girl tight, wanting, wishing, aching. She swallowed the urge to scream. If Grant had been standing next to her, she would have choked him. Instead, she hugged tighter and said, “He’s bringing pizza for dinner, so he shouldn’t be too late.”
An hour later the front door opened and Grant hollered, “Anyone home?”
Cassie rushed from the kitchen, Brittany bouncing at her heels, and Sharon was left to put the last of the cooling cookies away. She forced herself to slowly wash and dry her hands, and carefully compose her face before she turned and greeted Grant when she heard him walk into the kitchen. Cassie walked quietly at his side, clearly suffering from a scolding. Only the pup looked happy, eyes bright, whole body wiggling with excitement.
Sharon forced a smile. Grant met her gaze, then said, “Cassie, go wash up.” He waited until the little girl was out of earshot. “Shall I lie down on the floor so you can stomp on me now?” His voice was quiet, tinged with weariness.
Sharon tried not to notice the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the hollows in his cheeks that had deepened since last week, the way he held himself so tensely, almost rigidly, though exhaustion clearly etched his face.
Anger fled as quickly as it had come. “Oh, sit down, she said quietly. “Stomping is too good for you. Besides, you know as well as I do that I never can stay mad at you. Even when you deserve it.”
A smile curved his lips but didn’t erase the weariness in his eyes. He set the pizza on the table, walked to the fridge and pulled out a soda. Snapping the can open, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry I had to call you at the last minute like that.”
“So am I, but only for Cassie. You know I enjoy having her.”
He nodded, then tipped the can to take a long swallow of carbonated drink. Then he set the soda on the counter he now leaned against. “I don’t mean to take advantage—”
“That should be the least of your worries,” she said.
He paused. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Maybe you should have bowed out of the meeting.”
“I couldn’t.”
“And if I hadn’t been able to pick Cassie up?”
He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and didn’t answer. He bowed his head slightly, and his dark-blue eyes suddenly filled with a bleakness that sent chills along Sharon’s spine. He seemed so very alone.
She stepped closer, laid a hand against his chest in unspoken support. Grant lifted his head, dark gaze intense.
“That is one hell of a shiner she has.”
“I know.” Sharon let her hand slide from him with a sigh and a step back. “I suppose we should be grateful she’s coming out of her shell. But she was in trouble three times this week.” She took a deep breath, then plunged on, certain he wouldn’t want to hear her words but believing a lesser friend would keep silent
“Grant, I know you are doing your best, but Cassie needs more of your time.” She ignored the tightening of his mouth, the narrowing of his eyes. “You work too many long hours, and…well…I wonder if you understand how hard it is for her when you’re gone. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer you can do this alone, Grant. I am not—”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Grant said in a low, hard voice.
Anger blazed in his eyes. Sharon automatically took a half step back at the intensity.
“First Catherine’s parents and now you. Well, you are wrong. Damned wrong.” He swept a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. “I cannot believe that you are even saying this. I thought we were friends.”
His eyes were glittering, accusing her of betrayal. Sharon mentally stiffened, then lifted her chin and met his gaze without flinching. “You know very well we’re friends, but that has nothing to do with the subject at hand.”
He arched a brow, a dark slash that seemed to accentuate the anger she sensed simmering inside him.
“What exactly are you suggesting I do? If you think for one minute that I am going to hand my daughter over to my in-laws, think again.” His voice turned acidic.
“I have no answers,” she snapped, stung by the tone of his voice. “Nor am I suggesting anything of the kind. All I am saying is that the present situation is not good enough. Okay? Not for you. Not for Cassie.”
Silence stretched between them, fraught with tension.
“I love my daughter. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her,” Grant finally said.
The huskiness in his voice tugged at Sharon’s heart. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and ached for both Cassie and Grant. “I know you do,” she half whispered, “and so do I.” Then she cleared her throat. “I am sorry I brought it up. It’s just…well…it is important I’m worried about Cassie. And I’m worried about you.”
Grant tucked Cassie into bed, wincing each time he looked at the black eye. It didn’t take an intellectual giant to see that her temper had worsened since Catherine’s death and that his absences did not help, but what was he to do? His job required a lot of his time. It also provided them with a nice home, and Cassie a closet full of clothes and an overflowing toy box.
He remembered well the sharp-edged knife of need, of want, when others had seemed to have it all and he had nothing. The humiliation of wearing secondhand jeans, owning two pairs of socks and one pair of shoes—the cheapest sneakers to be had—when starting grade school. His hands tightened into fists. Cassie would never suffer that sort of humiliation. Ever.
His mother had done her best, but being widowed and left with three boys to raise had not been easy. He had started mowing lawns and shoveling sidewalks to earn money when he was nine, and had been working ever since.
He shuddered, forced his fists to relax and shook off the memory before it dragged him deeper into the past. After closing Cassie’s bedroom door, he walked to the den, flipped on the desk light and settled into the leather chair.
Sharon’s words haunted him. He knew she’d spoken from the heart with the best of intentions, and that she’d spoken from experience. As a child of parents who were commercial fishermen, Sharon had suffered violent motion sickness on even the calmest of days at sea, so each fishing season she had lived with Grant and his family. She knew well what it was like to be left by her family for long periods of time. Which was exactly why Grant could not dismiss her words easily.
If only his mother lived closer than Seattle, if she were in better health…. He mentally snorted. If only…what a waste of time!
Both brothers lived in the lower forty-eight, thousands of miles from being any help. They had their own families, their own lives. And he knew with chilling certainty that Cassie did not need another sitter. She needed a mother.
A mother could not be had without that woman first becoming his wife.
Wife. He closed his eyes and fought the memories. But the night seemed ripe for ghosts of the past, so they came, stronger than he this time, whirling through his mind with a flood of muted color like old photographs, faded, comers curled.
Catherine, face flushed with happiness on their wedding day. Happier yet with the birth of Cassie. A fleeting happiness soon dimmed, replaced by a growing anger and discontentment She had hated Anchorage and wanted to move back to California, though she had known before their marriage he had every intention of living in Alaska and building a career there. Grant had hoped, as a last straw, that accepting a promotion to construction manager and moving to Valdez, building a new house, would please her, would somehow provide the miracle needed to salvage their marriage. But it hadn’t. She had immediately hated Valdez, almost as much as she did Grant for bringing her there, and was preparing to take Cassie to California and divorce him, when she suddenly fell ill.
He had tried everything he could think of to make her happy and had failed. Nothing seemed able to prevent the downward spiral, the disintegration of their marriage, except illness. Cancer. Frightened, angry and blaming, Catherine had clung to him, though their love had long died. He’d held and soothed her, accepted the blame and watched, totally helpless as death relentlessly claimed her with a swiftness that allowed little time for forgiveness.
Cold washed through him. He sprang to his feet, heart pounding, hands clenched. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt. He snapped the lamp off and strode down the hall to his room.
He would never put himself in such a vulnerable position again. Any love he had left was for Cassie, and Cassie alone.
The last thing he wanted was another wife.
Chapter Two (#ulink_7e56a8a0-b3e7-5139-9958-9ac8d5c985bf)
Three women answered his ad for an in-home baby-sitter.
Marcie, with long, blond hair hanging straight down her back. Black, shiny tights topped by a low-cut blouse showing far more than a hint of cleavage left nothing to the imagination. She had a disconcerting habit of leaning toward Grant, which he supposed was designed to raise his blood pressure. It did—not with lust but with anger. When she suggested it would be best for all if she moved in with them, he concluded the interview and walked her to the door, not bothering to have her meet Cassie.
A dull throb began in his brow.
Sandra was a quiet woman, with pale-gray eyes that seemed to match her spirit. She was in the process of going through a divorce and wasn’t sure how long she would remain in Valdez. It depended, she said, on whether she met another man soon, because she was not a woman who could live without a man in her life. Grant thanked her for coming, ushered her from the house without meeting Cassie and crossed his fingers that the next woman would be perfect.
The throb turned to a pounding.
Beth had six children, watched five others and needed to earn more money because her good-for-nothing exhusband was behind on child support once more. Though Grant felt the full impact of her imploring eyes, he thanked her, also, and explained that he would keep her in mind if he couldn’t find someone who would come to his home to care for Cassie. Cassie remained in her room, playing.
The pounding exploded into a full-blown headache that had him pinching the bridge of his nose as he settled back into the leather chair in the den.
“Did you find one?” Cassie asked from the doorway.
Grant shook his head as she crossed the room and crawled onto his lap. She tucked her head beneath his chin and the headache began to dim.
“Maybe Sharon would do it,” Cassie said in a small voice.
“Honey, Sharon has a job, remember? How would they run the bank without her?” Sharon would be perfect, he thought, tightening his arms slightly.
“Oh.”
Silence.
“I wish Mama didn’t the.”
Her voice was but a sad murmur that drove nails of guilt into his heart. “I know you do, pumpkin. So do I,” he finally answered in a harsh whisper. Then he squeezed her in a tight hug, as if able to protect her from all pain, past and future—an impossible task that made it all the more important.
They sat in silence in the heavy dusk of the room. Snow fell from gray clouds; thick, fat flakes captured in the frame of the window. Cassie snuggled closer to Grant. He held her close, heart aching with love, and wondered what he was going to do.
* * *
Grant’s anger filled Sharon’s kitchen in almost visible waves. He stormed from counter to counter, jaw clenched so tight she feared for his teeth. She was thankful that Cassie was playing with Brittany in the backyard, enjoying the six inches of new snow.
He turned and slapped Hugh’s letter on the table with a thump. “I can’t believe Hugh and Dorothy, that they have the nerve…” He swallowed as if to gain control. “I simply cannot believe they are doing this to me, to Cassie, after all that we’ve been through.” He ground the words through clenched teeth.
“Read it—read the damned thing.” He nearly flung the letter at her.
Sharon shook her head and pushed it away. “It’s not my letter to read,” she said. “Besides, I think you told me everything they said.”
“You’re right.”
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then slumped into a chair opposite her. Dark circles shadowed his glittering eyes. Sharon Wished with all her heart that something she could do or say would change matters.
He leaned toward her, eyes burning. “Don’t they understand I am trying…trying to find a damned sitter. And I don’t ask to go on business trips. I shouldn’t have to travel so much once, the project starts, just a few more months.” He closed his eyes briefly.
Sharon reached to clasp his large hand, which was clenched in a tight fist. He brought his gaze to hers and held it.
“They think they can provide a better, more stable home for Cassie. A better home for my daughter than I can provide. A muscle leaped in his jaw, then tightened.
Her heart ached for her friend. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Grant, but though misguided, they mean well,” she said softly. “They aren’t suggesting a change in custody to hurt you.”
He pulled his hand away to drum his fingers against the table, frowning.
“They love Cassie and only want what’s best for her, she added.
“And taking her from her father is best?” He nearly spit the words.
Sharon shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, but—”
Grant held a hand to stop her. “They want what can’t be had—their daughter back. And since that won’t happen, they want mine.” His voice grew harder as he spoke. “I’m not even sure having a sitter would matter. They would probably question the permanence. The only way to provide a foolproof solution—” he emphasized the words “—is for me to marry. And it will be a cold day in hell before that happens.”
“Grant, you won’t always feel that way. With time—”
“Time? To hell with time. To hell with Hugh and Dorothy. They want Cassie as replacement for Catherine, as payment because I took her from them and brought her back in a coffin.”
“No.” Sharon nearly shouted the word, frustrated and a little angry herself. Grant arched a brow. She continued, shaking her head. “You’re twisting this, distorting it, Grant. Hugh and Dorothy are not vindictive people—”
“Aren’t they? You weren’t there, didn’t see how they acted toward the end,” he shot back with an angry growl.
“Maybe they did act a little strange, but that is certainly understandable under the circumstances.” She paused. “You might have read more into it than was meant.” He snorted. She ignored him and continued. “There is no way I can really know, but I don’t think they are doing this to make life hard for you. If they’re guilty of anything, it’s of loving Cassie, and we are all guilty of that.”
“Are you defending them?” He glared at her.
“Only their right to care.” She glared back.
“You need to keep in mind that this is not about you or me or Hugh and Dorothy,” she finally said quietly. “It’s about Cassie and what is best for her.”
After a minute of silence. Grant dropped his gaze. He carefully folded the rumpled letter and slid it into his pocket. Then he looked at her. “I am sorry for losing my temper like that. It wasn’t fair to you,” he said quietly.
She reached out to cover his hand with hers again. A large hand that dwarfed hers in comparison. “Don’t be silly, Grant. We’re friends, and that’s all part of what friends are for. To be there to listen. You would do the same for me.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t move a muscle.
“Maybe you should consider letting me care for Cassie on a permanent basis in the evenings when you’re gone. It might ease Hugh and Dorothy’s concerns. They’ve met me and know I love her. I’m certainly stable, don’t plan to be moving anywhere, and I’m not looking for marriage. She paused. He remained silent. “I won’t meet you at the door in anything sexier than a pair of sweats,” she added. “I promise.”
Grant half smiled, suddenly looking tired by the effort, then withdrew his hand to run it through his hair. “No. I won’t let you do that. This is my problem. I’ll solve it.”
“You can’t always—”
“Sharon.” Grant reached to cover her hands with his. A brief, friendly clasp. “You do far more for me than anyone can expect and I appreciate it. But I cannot allow you to take on the two of us on a permanent basis.”
She opened her mouth to argue, to say that she wanted to.
“No,” he said firmly.
And she knew he meant it.
* * *
Grant had to go to Anchorage for meetings, just overnight, but Cassie clung to him at the airport and sobbed as if she would never see him again.
“I have to go, Cass. You know that. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise,” Grant repeated over and over again as he held his daughter.
His eyes glittered when they met Sharon’s, and he looked as if his heart were being ripped out. She felt as though hers was.
She reached to touch his arm. “She’ll be okay once you’re gone,” she said.
His eyes held her for one long minute. “I wouldn’t leave her if I didn’t know that And there’s no one I trust my daughter with more than you,” he said in a husky voice.
A sudden lump in Sharon’s throat prevented an answer. She silently squeezed Grant’s arm, then stepped back.
“I have got to go, Cass. The plane is getting ready to leave,” Grant whispered, and pressed one last kiss to her brow. His hands trembled as he handed the small girl to Sharon. Cassie wound her arms around Sharon’s neck, buried her face in her shoulder and sobbed.
“Goodbye,” Sharon murmured, and held Cassie’s trembling body as Grant strode out to the plane. She cajoled Cassie into watching as the plane lumbered across the runway, to turn and race forward, before finally climbing into the sky with a great roar. Cassie’s sobs quit, her tears drying on her cheeks.
“Shall we go home and see what Brittany is doing? Sharon asked.
Cassie nodded, then wiggled to be released. She slipped a small hand into Sharon’s hand. A hand that gripped Sharon’s heart, as well.
And there’s no one I trust my daughter with more than you.
Warmth washed through her, as she remembered Grant’s husky words. His trust, his friendship, was as precious a gift as Cassie’s love.
She glanced down at the top of Cassie’s head, at the slightly crooked part in the shiny black hair and the butterfly-shaped barrette at the top of each braid, and her heart swelled. She loved Cassie so much it sometimes frightened her. What was she going to do when Grant did remarry one day? And she had little doubt that eventually he would. A man with his looks, his resources. It wouldn’t…hadn’t taken long for women to notice. It was only a matter of time until Grant reciprocated the interest.
Would a new wife welcome or allow their friendship to continue? Would there be room for her in their lives?
She doubted it. And the thought of not having Cassie and Grant as part of her life was almost too painful to bear.
Grant met with an attorney while in Anchorage. The attorney confirmed that although there was always a chance he could lose Cassie, it was highly unlikely. At most, this challenge to his custody of Cassie would probably be an expensive inconvenience, something to worry at him like a splinter. With time it would go away. He advised Grant to talk to Hugh and Dorothy and come up with some way to set their minds at ease and avoid an unnecessary legal battle.
Hell, if he could do that, there wouldn’t be a problem.
A knot of tension tied itself permanently in his gut He snapped at his secretary, apologized, then snapped again. He made a list of his options, crossed things off, added them again, only to cross them off once more. Sitters. Nannies. A wife.
Sitters, not permanent. Nannies, unavailable in Valdez, and not permanent. And even if he found one in Anchorage, how long would she be happy living in Valdez, isolated by surrounding wilderness and sea?
He toyed with the idea of taking Sharon up on her offer, of hiring her to watch Cassie in the evenings while he was away. But…not only was that unfair to Sharon, it was not a permanent solution. Sharon had her own life to live, and one day she would marry and want a family of her own, and where would that leave them? Generous though her offer was, he could not accept it on a long-term basis.
The last option was a wife.
But he simply did not have the emotional resources to deal with a wife. The very thought sent chills along his spine.
The next day a letter from an attorney came express mail, an official demand for custody of Cassie from his in-laws. Grant opened the letter late evening, after Cassie was in bed.
Anger rose in him as he read, then fear. Even the tiniest of chances that he could lose Cassie overwhelmed him. And the sense of betrayal, of attack, from people he loved was incredibly painful. As well, he did not want to alienate Hugh and Dorothy, because Cassie loved her grandparents and they her. They had all suffered a tremendous loss and didn’t need to lose one another, as well.
A whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions spun in his head. Like a vortex of vibrant colors that did nothing more than whirl and spin and slam up against black solid walls of no answers.
The room seemed to shrink. He was suffocating. Choking. He fought the feeling, resisted it with every fiber of his being, until he finally had to rush through the house to the deck. Bitter cold greeted him; frozen fingers of winter gripped his bare skin. Biting, burning his lungs as he drew deep breaths to steady himself. He felt unable to ease the feeling of impending doom.
The phone rang, jerking him back into the house. Grant stiffened at the sound of Hugh’s voice, and he fought the urge either to slam the phone down or to unload the emotional turmoil that still churned in his gut.
“How about letting Cassie come stay with us for a while?” Hugh offered.
“You want custody of my daughter because I’m gone too much, yet you’re suggesting I send her down there, where I’ll hardly ever see her, for who knows how long? That makes a lot of sense.”
“And you going off and leaving her with a baby-sitter, a different one every few months is good?” Hugh’s voice rose.
“She’s my daughter, Hugh. Do you think I would do anything to harm her?” He took a deep breath. “You don’t have the right to do this, to hurt us more than we already have been. Cassie is my daughter. She belongs with me. His voice was low, hard. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.
“If you couldn’t keep a wife happy, what makes you think you can be a good parent?” Hugh cried.
“It’s time for this conversation to end, before we both say things we will only regret,” Grant answered quietly, suppressed anger knotting in his throat.
Hugh paused. “This isn’t about you or me, Grant. It’s about what is best for Cassie.”
“Is it?” Grant asked softly with a thread of steel in his voice. “Catherine is gone, Hugh. Cassie is not going to replace her. And until you decide to drop this lawsuit, we have nothing to discuss.”
His hand trembled when he hung up. He shut his eyes for one long minute, half expecting the phone to ring again, then slowly walked over to the window when it didn’t. The lights of the town burned below, throwing shadows on the snow that spread across lawns and roofs, so that it looked like a thick layer of winter butter.
If you couldn’t keep a wife happy, what makes you think you can be a good parent?
Hugh’s words returned. Unbidden. Unwanted.
Pain slammed through Grant, taking his breath away. His hands curled into fists as a wave of guilt followed. As the memory of Catherine’s unhappiness unrolled in his mind.
He’d tried. Oh, how he had tried.
And he had failed.
The words screamed through his mind, angry accusations from the past.
Head bowed, fists clenched, he fought the memory. What happened between he and Catherine had nothing— not one damned thing—to do with his being a good parent to Cassie. He slowly raised his head. Forced each finger to unfurl.
The only thing that mattered was what was best for Cassie.
That is all he wanted and worked so hard for. It would be easier if he could deny his absences did not have much impact on Cassie, but he couldn’t. The walls inched closer once again.
It would be easier if he could deny that Hugh’s concerns had some validity. He couldn’t.
Regardless, he would never give Cassie up. To anyone. He couldn’t quit his job—he had to work to be able to provide for his daughter. Baby-sitters and nannies weren’t the answer. He took a deep breath, then another and a third, as his mind circled the truth like a wary wolf a trap.
He needed to find a mother for Cassie. A wife.
As soon as possible.
The very thought chilled his soul.
* * *
“I have decided to get married,” Grant told Sharon the next evening over fresh-baked pie and coffee in her kitchen.
“Married?” she echoed, color draining from her face.
The darkness of her eyes, filled with shock, pulled at him. The shiny mass of dark red-brown curls that stopped at the curve of jaw made her skin seem even paler. Skin that would be soft to the touch.
He frowned and looked away.
A shout of laughter, the bark of a dog, drifted through the window from the backyard. Cassie was playing out back with Brittany.
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Sharon finally said.
“I’m not.” Grant shoved his empty plate back, forced himself to look at her. “I am thinking…planning to run an ad in the Anchorage paper.”
Her mouth dropped open, then she snapped it shut “You’ve given up on finding a sitter,” she said flatly.
“Not permanent enough.”
“I see.” She slowly pushed her plate back. “Are you that worried about losing Cassie? I thought the attorney said—”
“It’s not just the custody suit. Cassie needs a mother and there is only one way I know to provide that,” he said grimly. “You yourself suggested I do something.”
“I suggested that you spend more time with your daughter, she said quietly. “And I also offered to watch Cassie for you.”
“Sharon, you know that I appreciate everything you do, everything that you have done for Cassie, but I need to find a permanent solution. And I can’t accept your offer. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
After a minute, she cleared her throat. “Why an ad, Grant? Why not marry someone you know, someone who cares at least a little about Cassie?” She continued before he could speak. “Maybe you should do something temporary. Let me watch her the way I offered and start dating. In time you’ll get over losing Catherine, Grant, and meet someone you can love again.”
Grant laughed, a harsh, humorless burst of sound. “If it wasn’t for Cassie, I would never marry again.” He slowly enunciated each cold word.
Sharon’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it.
He chose his words carefully. “This is going to be a business deal only, with a contract up front, a salary and a bonus for completion.”
Sharon slowly shook her head.
“It’s no different from hiring a sitter or a nanny,” he argued. “You know as well as I that if I hired a live-in, half the town would have us involved or at least in bed with each other unless she was ninety-five and in a wheelchair, and maybe even then. At least if I contract someone for marriage, she’ll know up front exactly what I expect. There will be no emotional involvement or expectation between us. And no one, not Hugh or Dorothy or anyone else, can find fault with the situation.”
“You can’t pay someone to love Cassie,” she said quietly.
“I would hope they would come to love her.” He sighed, suddenly tired. “I have to do this, Sharon. It’s not a perfect solution, a perfect world, but there isn’t a thing I can do about that.”
Sharon tossed and turned, squeezed her eyes shut, tried to force sleep—and finally gave up. The digital letters on the clock confirmed that it was four in the morning. Brittany burrowed deeper on the blankets and watched with sleepy eyes as Sharon pulled on a pair of worn sweats. At least it was Saturday, so she could nap later.
The thoughts that had haunted her throughout the night returned full force. Grant was going to marry. She closed her eyes briefly. Brittany trotted at her heels as Sharon headed for the kitchen, badly in need of a cup of coffee. Cold air greeted her as she shooed the sleepy pup out into the backyard, then turned toward the coffeepot.
I have decided to get married.
The words seemed to shriek through her mind, through the silence of the winter’s early morning, as a layer of dark quiet and frigid temperatures covered Alaska like a thick, impenetrable quilt. Exhausted from a sleepless night, she told herself for about the ten-millionth time that she was overreacting. The coffeepot choked and gargled. Brittany barked, then shook snow from herself when Sharon let her in.
It’s not a perfect solution, a perfect world, but there isn’t a thing I can do about that.
Although she well knew that, Grant’s words still caused her heart to ache. In a perfect world she would not have gotten the infection that had hospitalized her just months after getting married, then had kept her flat on her back in bed for three weeks at home, leaving her so badly scarred internally that she was unable to give her husband the children they both so desperately wanted. In a perfect world Charley would not have stopped loving her because of it, would not have left her for a pregnant girlfriend who happened to be Sharon’s best friend. Catherine wouldn’t have gotten ill. The list could go on.
She poured a cup of coffee, wandered into the living room to pull the drapes, then curled on the love seat to watch as snow drifted to the ground. Brittany curled next to her, chin resting on Sharon’s ankle.
In a perfect world, she would have been pretty enough to catch Grant’s interest and they would have fallen in love. Instead, she’d had to endure their high school years, watching Grant date the prettiest girls while she went unnoticed. By college, she had reconciled herself to the fact that she and Grant would be nothing more than friends. Yet when he had brought Catherine home to meet the family, then married the sophisticated, beautiful blonde, Sharon had been shattered with a sense of loss.
And now he was doing it to her again. Marrying another woman.
Why not me? The thought welled up from within, so strong and unexpected that Sharon nearly sputtered taking a sip of coffee.
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. She was not feeling sorry for herself, but unless something miraculous happened to her overnight, Grant would be no-more interested in marrying her than he would a—
She put the coffee cup on the end table with shaking hands.
Grant was going to marry a stranger, without emotional commitment. Why wouldn’t he marry her?
Why would she want him to?
Cassie. The answer whispered through her mind with a sense of rightness. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She wasn’t asking for an emotional commitment. By marrying Grant, she would become a mother to a little girl she loved dearly.
Mother. She closed her eyes at the rush of emotion that simple word brought. Something she had always wanted and would never have. It wouldn’t matter that she couldn’t have children, because intimacy would not be part of the bargain.
And she would not lose Grant again.
You have lost your marbles, she told herself sternly.
And then began planning what she was going to say to convince Grant that she hadn’t.
By the time the sun finally filtered thin light through the clouds, the coffeepot was drained and Sharon had nearly paced a path in the living room carpet. She glared at the clock as if it were a mortal enemy, paced some more, then glared at the clock again.
When it struck ten, she gathered courage and reached for the phone to dial Grant’s number with trembling fingers. A quick trip to the store for muffins, and fifteen minutes later she and Brittany pulled into Grant’s snowblown driveway.
Cassie met them at the door, bundled in brilliant-red snow pants and jacket. “Daddy said I could play outside with Brittany. Is that okay? Please, Sharon?” Her eyes pleaded unnecessarily.
“Keep her leash on, and look out for cars.” Sharon paused to watch as the little girl clambered up the snowbank and into the empty lot next door, Brittany bouncing at her side. The two were vivid splashes of color in motion against blinding white.
She turned, entered the house and slowly closed the door. She swallowed hard, fighting a sudden urge to spin around and run as fast as she could before it was too late.
“In here,” Grant shouted from the kitchen.
“Coffee?” he offered as she entered the brightly lit room.
“Milk would be better,” she answered. She lifted the bag she carried. “Muffin? I got poppy seed.”
He grinned. Her pulse leaped.
Nerves, she told herself as she shrugged out of her jacket and settled at the table. A minute later, Grant sank into a chair opposite, steam rising from the dark, rich liquid in his cup, golden muffins on a plate between them.
“So,” he said after a large swallow of coffee. “What did you need to talk about?”
Whiskers shadowed his lean jaw, and his eyes captured and held her as though she were under a spell. Her throat dried. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the breath to push words out. Could not find the words, period.
“You okay?” Grant arched a brow.
Heat flooded her face. She quickly nodded, grabbed her glass of milk as if it were a lifeline and took a swallow. Carefully setting the glass aside, she took a deep breath as Grant lifted his cup.
“I am answering your ad,” she said.
He sputtered, spilling coffee down the front of his T-shirt. Sharon gasped. Grant sprang to his feet, ripped off the shirt and grabbed a dish towel. He mopped the front of his chest and glared at her.
One look at his broad, well-muscled chest covered with thick, black curly hair and Sharon jerked her gaze to his face and kept it there, heart and pulse racing.
“My ad?” he asked softly.
She lifted her chin slightly and tried to still her pounding pulse and heart. “Yes, your ad. I think we should get married.”
He froze, dropping the towel to his side.
They stared at each other, gazes locked. Grant’s eyes were without a trace of expression. Sharon was filled with shock that she’d actually said the words. But now that they were out her resolve strengthened, even as she mentally cringed from his reaction.
“Why in the hell would you want to marry me?” His words were carefully enunciated. His eyes wary. He dropped into his chair.
“You can quit looking as if you think I am going to leap across the table and try to have my way with you. I’m not one of your past baby-sitters,” she said, heat filling her cheeks. “It’s not you I want…I mean…not in that way…it’s Cassie. I love Cassie and I don’t want to lose her, and regardless of what you say, if you marry someone I will lose her. I don’t think I could bear that, Grant.”
“Aren’t you over—”
“No,” she cried, suddenly impatient.
“Let me get this straight. You love Cassie so much that you’ll enter a loveless marriage with me? Are you listening to yourself, Sharon? That is nuts!”
Sharon lifted her chin a notch, eyes narrowing. “Says the man who is planning to marry a total stranger. One he’s going to advertise for in the paper and purchase. Grant, finding a wife isn’t like getting a puppy.”
He flushed as his jaw tensed. “I wasn’t planning on using the pet section. And I thought I made it perfectly clear that I’m doing this for Cassie.”
“Well, so am I. Is it so hard to believe I could love your daughter as much as you? Think about it—”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically.
“Why not?” She balled her hands.
“Because you should be marrying some guy you love and having children of your own-—that’s why. You’ve always wanted a large family.” Grant bit out the words. “I have nothing to offer you—”
“Except Cassie, a little girl I already love as if she were my own.” Sharon took a deep breath to calm her racing emotions. “I’m not asking you for more than that Grant. She paused, then added quietly, “I’m not asking for your love, only your friendship.”
Grant just stared at her. She swallowed hard, then continued. “After Charley left me, I swore I would never marry again.”
“You’ll change your mind in time,” he said in a low voice.
“No, I won’t, and you have no right assuming you know my mind better than I do. I haven’t accepted a date since the divorce, and that’s been a few years. As hard as it may be to believe, it’s not as though I haven’t been asked, as if I haven’t been offered opportunities.”
“Of course you have,” he said quietly.
She leaned toward Grant as if leaning against the tide, not certain it would make a difference but hoping to shorten the distance between them. “My only regret with my decision is that I don’t have a family.”
She almost told him more, but stopped. The last thing she wanted was Grant agreeing to marry her out of pity. Poor Sharon, who can’t have children. She couldn’t bear that.
Grant remained silent, frowning slightly.
“This is my opportunity to have that family,” she added quietly.
He shook his head.
“Please think about it,” she urged. “I know you don’t want any emotional involvement, so why can’t you believe that I would feel the same way? Grant, can you truly say that Cassie would be better off if you married a total stranger rather than someone she already knows and loves? Someone who loves her as much as I do?”
His dark eyes probed her as if trying to see into her mind. Her heart. She prayed he would give the idea a chance.
“It’s no great secret that I care for you very much, but only as a friend. I’m not carrying a torch of unrequited love, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sharon added, quickly trying to second-guess any argument he might have. Honesty prompted her to add, “I know you were thinking about a full-time mother, but I would want to continue to work. Cassie could go to day care during the day. She needs to be with kids her own age, and she enjoys the other children, when she isn’t fighting with them.”
Grant half smiled. Hope blossomed in Sharon’s heart.
She pressed on, willing him to listen, to understand and to concede. “I think if you give this some thought, you will see that it makes perfect sense. We have been friends forever and we still get along, something lots of married folks can’t say. Neither of us wants to be married, but both of us wants the best for Cassie. You want a mother and I want a daughter.” She paused, then said softly, “It sounds like the perfect solution to me.”
Grant sat alone in the family room. A log cracked in the fireplace—a loud, popping noise—as flames licked along its side, fueled by bright orange coals beneath. The house settled a bit with a groan, not unlike an old man whose bones protested as he burrowed a little deeper beneath the covers. Except the house settled under a blanket of snow that had fallen steadily throughout the day and was only now starting to slacken.
All around him was darkness, except for the dancing, flickering light from the fire, which cast an orange-yellow glow that didn’t quite penetrate the shadows. The clock on the mantel chimed twelve times with a solid certainty that Grant suddenly envied. Cassie had long since been tucked into bed, lost to the land of sleep and dreams. A land Grant wouldn’t mind visiting himself…if only he could.
It sounds like the perfect solution to me.
Sharon’s words haunted him, as they had since she’d uttered them, before she’d calmly walked from his kitchen to allow him to think about her offer.
He shouldn’t need to think, should be able to dismiss the proposal as if it had never been spoken. But he couldn’t. Arguments piled in his mind like the snow outside, and remained there because he could not refute the truth. If he viewed the situation coldly and objectively, her proposal did sound like the perfect solution.
If Sharon truly meant that she didn’t want to marry for love, did not want any emotional involvement. And he had no reason to think she was lying. She had always been honest with him in the past.
Why, then, would she want to marry him? She was far too young and attractive, warmhearted and giving, to tie herself to a man who would never offer her children of her own, never offer her a true marriage. A man who was not capable of loving again.
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