Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (23 page)

"That's true, but I never should have assumed that she
knew we wouldn't be in Fort Bragg forever. I mean, with
you and Skippy already set up here, it just seemed so logical." Alex gave a helpless shrug. It seemed that all
this should have been said years ago, but the truth was,
they had never talked about it. He let his mind run, and
in an instant all the pain returned.

He and Linette had grown up together. They had been
nearly inseparable from the time they could walk, and as
they grew older it just seemed a natural turn of events to
be married. Within a year of their wedding Alex had
gone away to medical school, and to keep things simple,
Linette had moved back with her parents.

Alex came home as often as he was able, and at the
time his absence didn't seem to affect their relationship.
Near the end of his schooling, however, when Alex came
home to say he'd found a nearby town that needed him,
Linette changed instantaneously to a person he'd never
known.

She raged at him over leaving Fort Bragg for Willits
and threatened to stay behind. He told her that if she was
so against their move they wouldn't go, but she began
hiding her feelings at that point. They'd been living in
Willits for nearly a year before Linette's true feelings
came to the fore again.

Alex could do nothing right in Linette's eyes. He
would be treated to days of silence for sins he couldn't
remember committing. It didn't take long for Alex to see
that Linette depended on him for her every happiness.

The marriage as a whole was not miserable, but Alex
found himself starved for the sight of his wife's smile and
a true helpmate to fill his days.

Linette was as much work, if not more, than many
of his patients. Nevertheless, he loved her, and as he
weathered each new storm he grew in the Lord. As head
of the family, he tried to involve Linette in his study of
the Word, but unless it made her happy, she would have
nothing to do with it.

Alex had decided that they would have to return to
Fort Bragg, but the very day he decided to give his wife
her wish, she had the accident.

"I've lost you."

Alex came abruptly back to the present. "I guess you
did. I was thinking about the changes in my life. First
with Linette, then without her, and now with Marcail."
It was obvious Alex had more to say, but he hesitated.

"It's all right to admit that Linette was not an easy
woman to live with, Al," his father told him gently. 'And
it's also okay to tell me how much you love your new
wife."

"I do love her, Dad, only I can't tell her."

Samuel was silent for a full ten seconds. Considering
the fact that Alex had only mentioned the new schoolteacher one time in a letter last fall, his words were no
surprise. Then a week ago he'd written to say he was
bringing his wife home for his birthday.

"Then you'll just have to show her," the older man
finally said.

Alex nodded slowly and felt relief over his father's
approval. Not that he doubted receiving it, but knowing
that his father was in his corner did wonders for Alex's
outlook.

Father and son sat up for the next two hours while
Alex shared how he'd met Marcail and why they were
married. Again, Alex felt no condemnation from his
father. He listened carefully when Samuel told him how
important it was that he get to know Marcail's family as
soon as possible. Alex hadn't thought of it, but agreed
wholeheartedly.

They parted company sometime before midnight, and
as Alex expected, Marcail never stirred when he slipped
beneath the covers beside her.

Marcail woke to an empty bed. Stretching contentedly, she remembered where she was and quickly turned
her head to see if someone was on the other pillow.
Someone had been there, that much was obvious, but the
sheets were cold and Marcail wondered what time it was.

She lay there a moment, feeling lazy, and had just
decided to get out of bed when the door opened a crack.
Alex's head came in next, and he looked toward the bed
with raised brows.

"Good morning," Marcail called, and Alex took it as
an invitation to enter.

"Good morning. How about a little coffee?"

"Ohhh, thank you." Marcail spoke with surprised
pleasure and pushed herself against the headboard to
receive the offered cup. Alex took the end of the bed,
leaning against the footboard with his own cup.

"How did you sleep?" he asked solicitously after Marcail had taken a few sips.

"Like I always do, but I suspect you already know
that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I never heard you come or go, so I assume I
slept as usual."

"You do sleep hard," Alex commented softly, his eyes
on her disheveled appearance.

Marcail told herself she was not going to blush. She concentrated on her coffee cup in the silence that followed.

"How would you like to have breakfast at the beach?"

The cup paused halfway to Marcail's mouth.

"Who's going?"

"Just the two of us."

"What about your folks?"

"Dad's at the office, and I think I told you, Mother
sleeps late. I'm sure my family will be around for the rest
of the day, so I thought this might be my only time to
show you Fort Bragg. Unless you're starved, I thought
we'd take a basket and eat at the beach."

"I'd like that," Marcail said sincerely, seeing how
much Alex wanted to leave the decision to her, but also
how much he wanted to take her.

Alex stood and moved toward the door. Marcail noticed for the first time that he was dressed and ready for
the day.

"I'll be ready anytime you get downstairs."

'All right. By the way, Alex, what time is it?"

'Almost 10:00."

Alex grinned at the shocked look on his wife's face
before slipping out and shutting the door.

"This was my grandparent's house," Alex said as he
pointed to a simple green house. "Quinn and Hannah
live there now."

"What did you say Quinn did for a living?"

"He's a logger."

"Oh, that's right, and their kids are Amber, Jess, and
Cole."

"No. Amber, Jess, and Cole belong to Skip and Judith.
Quinn's kids are Cindy and Derek."

Marcail nodded but stayed silent. She hadn't needed
more than a few days to know the name of every student
in her class, but Alex's family was still beyond her.

Mentally placing everyone she'd met, Marcail realized
that Alex had turned the horse and small buggy down
the road toward the ocean. They moved closer to the
view Marcail had seen from the Montgomery house, and
in a matter of minutes they were pulling to a stop beside
what appeared to be a private beach. Marcail sat transfixed as she watched and listened to the ocean beat on
the shore. The sound was like music in her heart.

Alex, assuming it was her first view of such a majestic
sight, stayed silent and let her look her fill. The quiet
moment was broken when Marcail suddenly scrambled
from the carriage. Alex watched in amazement as she sat
in the sand, stripped off her shoes and stockings, and
dug her toes in the sand. A moment passed before he
heard her laugh with delight.

Alex stepped down from the buggy and went to sit on
the sand beside his wife. She was still smiling, but there
were tears standing in her eyes. He watched her, a questioning look on his face. Finally she noticed him.

A faint blush stained her cheeks before she spoke.
"Don't mind me, Alex. It's just been so long."

"What has?"

"Since I've seen the ocean and felt the sand under my
feet."

Again his look was questioning, almost baffled, and
for the first time Marcail stopped to think how little he
knew about her. After all they'd only been married for 13
days.

"I was born in Hawaii," Marcail told her husband
softly.

"The Hawaiian Islands?"

Marcail smiled at his tone. "Right. I lived there until I
was nearly nine. My parents were missionaries."

Alex could only stare, first at Marcail, and then out to
sea. He had of course realized how little they knew of
each other, but this! This was so surprising that Alex
hardly knew what to say.

He turned his head back to look at Marcail and found
her watching him. Seeing her sitting there with her hair
down her back and her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress made it easy to envision her as
a girl running on the beach.

"Do you miss it?" he asked suddenly.

"Not anymore. When I was nine, I thought I would die
of homesickness, but it's been 11 years, and I love my life
here. I do miss my brother, Sean, and his family. He's one
of four pastors at the mission there, working with the
village families."

Again Alex just stared at her.

"What are you thinking?" Marcail had to ask.

"That you're an awful lot of surprises for such a small
package."

Marcail wasn't offended. She smiled and looked back
out to sea. "Does my being small bother you?"

"No, should it?"

Marcail shrugged and then admitted, "I was never
going to marry anyone who towered over me as much as
you do."

„Why?„

The question brought Marcail's head around. "Because
I didn't want my husband to view me as a child."

"Is that what you think, Marcail?" Alex's voice was
suddenly intense. "That I think of you as a child?"

Marcail shrugged, realizing the conversation had taken
an unexpected turn. She wasn't sure what to say next.

Alex didn't care for the shrug, but he was at a loss as to
how to tell Marcail what he really felt. To divulge that he
found her lovely and desirable at this moment, while
they were having to share a bedroom, could do irreparable damage. Frustration rose within him, but he prayed
for calm.

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Alex knew
his first premonition was right-he was going to have to
let the subject drop. As he moved to the buggy to retrieve
the basket and quilt, he told himself that someday his
wife would know exactly how he viewed her.

By the time they returned from the beach, some of
Alex's family were at the house. Alex and Marcail were
taken into the group without the slightest hesitation.

"Did you show Aunt Marcail where we live?" six-yearold Derek wanted to know when he found out they'd
been on a drive.

"Yes, we went by your house."

"Then where did you go?" Jess, who was 11, piped up.

"To the beach."

"Wasn't it a little cold?" This came from Amber, who
at 14 was taller than her new aunt.

Alex, who couldn't remember feeling cold at all, smilingly shook his head and glanced at Marcail's feet. Her
shoes and stockings were back in place now, but he
clearly remembered the way one foot had stuck out from
under her dress while they were eating.

A single stroke of his finger had told him that his
wife's feet were very ticklish. A fiendish glint over this
newfound knowledge had entered Alex's eyes. Seeing
that threat, Marcail had scurried for the far end of the
quilt and tucked her feet protectively beneath her. She
informed him, in her best teacher's voice, that he was not
to tickle her feet. Alex continued to tease, but after some convincing arguments, she rung a promise out of him
that he would not touch her feet while she was trying to
eat.