Unexpected Bride (25 page)

"No!" Lara shouted in protest. "I'm not leaving. You can't make me leave!" Then she hurled her favorite stuffed animal, a fuzzy black teddy bear, at her mother, and ran from the guest room.

Her hands trembling, Abby leaned over and picked up the bear. Her sweet child, who had never—in almost five years—thrown a tantrum, had chosen today of all days to act out? Abby sunk onto the mattress next to her empty suitcase, which shifted and dug into her hip. Really, Mrs. Mick had to stop unpacking her suitcase.

She had changed out of her rumpled sundress, unable to bear the scent of Clayton that clung to it. that clung to her skin despite her shower. She breathed deep, inhaling his particular mix of citrus and musk, a scent that was his alone.

"Are you okay?" asked a warm, maternal voice.

Abby turned toward the doorway, blinking back the tears blurring her eyes, so that she could face Mrs. Mick. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"For what, honey?"

She pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes, trying to push back the tears. She couldn't keep crying. She hated crying—even Mrs. Mick's so-called
good
cries. "I lied to you." Her brealh hilched. "I didn't stay at Brenna's."

The mattress lifted. The suitcase dropped to the floor with a thud, and then the mattress shifted again as Mrs. Mick settled next to Abby, her arm wrapped supportively around her shoulders. "I know."

She kept her face buried in her hands. "You knew where I was?"

"With Clayton," Mrs. McClintock confirmed, then chuckled. "I'm a mother, honey. Mothers know everything."

Only real mothers like Mary McClintock. "I didn't know how crushed Lara would be that we have to leave," she admitted. "I knew she was getting attached..."

She waited for motherly advice. For Mrs. Mick to assure her that she just had to give the little girl time. That was why she'd let her run off without chasing her. Lara needed some distance. And so did Abby, from Clayton.

But Mrs. McClintock withdrew her arm and her support. "You don't have to leave."

Abby nodded. "I do," she insisted. "I do." Before she buried her pride and begged Clayton to take her on his terms. But he probably wouldn't have her even then— she wasn't part of his plan. He couldn't make room for her in his life, in his heart. "I need you to drive me to the airport."

"No."

"But I don't have a car." She was so desperate to leave Cloverville that she'd ask Rory to drive her. but he didn't even have a permit yet. "And I need to get out of here."

"No," Mrs. McClintock said again, just that one word, her voice more stern than Abby had ever heard her. She shook her head, her brown eyes, usually so warm, darkened with disappointment.

"I don't know what you thought. That Clayton and I..." She swallowed the threat of a sob. "That we... We can't get along. Even before his dad died, he was overbearing. He's used to bossing everyone around."

His mother didn't defend him. She didn't say anything. She just let Abby rant.

"I've been on my own too long. I take care of myself. Clayton has to take care of everyone around him. He says he doesn't want to..." She slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified about what she'd revealed. "I shouldn't have said that. I..."

"I know my son," Mrs. McClintock reminded Abby. "I know what he did when his father was dying. How he threw himself into his schoolwork, so he could graduate early. Then he threw himself into the business and into his family's lives. Do you know why he did that?"

Abby shrugged but actually she knew. She understood Clayton, too. That was why she loved him. "He thought that he was honoring his father by taking care of everyone the way his dad had."

A tear streaked down the older woman's cheek. "Partly. He loved his father very much."

Abby nodded. "I know."

"Do you know he never cried? Not once did he cry when his father was sick, not even when he died." Mary McClintock's breath was ragged. "I think all I did was cry then."

"He was being strong," Abby said, defending the man she loved. "He was supporting all of you."

"He was scared," Mrs. McClintock said. "He was scared to let himself feel, scared of the pain. That's why he did whatever he did this morning to push you away. He's scared to feel the love that I
know
he has for you."

Panic pressed against Abby's chest. She couldn't believe the older woman, she couldn't hope for something she'd already accepted that there would never be. "I love you, Mrs. Mick, but you're wrong."

"Abby Hamilton..."

"No," she said, using the sharp tone she used only when reprimanding lazy workers or admonishing demanding clients. "I can't." She scrambled off the bed to pick up her suitcase. "I need a ride to the airport. If you won't drive me, I'll call a cab."

"You need to stop running, Abby Hamilton," Mrs. McClintock said, shaking her head as her eyes filled with tears of disappointment. "You've been running eight years, but you can't leave Cloverville. It's in your heart, just like Clayton is."

"I don't... I can't."

"I didn't think I could, either." Clayton's mother admitted. "That I could love another man."

Abby had only loved one man—a man who couldn't love her back because he was scared to feel. "You're seeing someone?"

As the older woman smiled, her eyes brightened with a warmth that emanated from her heart. "Martin Schipper."

"Mr. Schipper." He'd failed Abby two years in a row. Of course, back in school, she'd never been able to concentrate long enough to finish reading a book and turn in the required reports.

"He's a good man, and I almost let him get away." She sighed. "Because I was scared."

Mrs. Mick had always seemed so strong, even when her beloved husband had been sick. Or maybe most especially then.

"I was scared of the pain that I might feel if I cared about someone and lost him again." She shook her head, as if disappointed in herself. 'Then I realized that it was better to feel pain than nothing at all. Stop running, Abby. Everything you want is right here. Be strong enough to fight for it."

"I don't want to fight Clayton," she said, smiling despite her pain. For so many years that was all they'd done.

"You two need each other. I thought that was true eight years ago. I know it for a fact now. You balance each other."

Abby bit her lip and shook her head.

"You have a lot to think about. I'm going to take Lara to the park for a little while."

"I'm leaving," she interrupted, desperation clawing at her throat, choking her with emotion.

"If you still want to leave when Lara and I get back, I'll drive you," Mrs. McCHntock offered before turning away and leaving Abby alone to think.

Abby's head and heart hurt too much for thinking. She could only react. She pulled out the drawer of the bedside table, finding Mrs. Mick actually had stocked it like a hotel room, with a Bible and a phone book. With trembling fingers, she leafed through the yellow pages for cab companies.

Clayton's gut tightened so much that he nearly doubled over in pain as he stood on the sidewalk and watched the cab pull away from his family house. Taking Abby and Lara to the airport, away from him.

He'd been such a fool. But he'd already driven her away, or she wouldn't have called that cab. He should be relieved. He didn't need any more stress in his life, anyone else to worry about. He already had more than he could handle, and even if he didn't he would never be able to handle Abby Hamilton.

But yet he'd run all the way from town. Not to stop her from leaving. He knew he had nothing to offer her to make her stay, just the lease she hadn't signed. He owed her an apology though. She hadn't betrayed him by not revealing Molly's whereabouts. She'd been loyal, just as she'd always been, to her friends, the people who'd earned her loyalty.

Clayton, having always been unfair to her. had done nothing to deserve her loyalty. Or her love. He couldn't expect her to stay in Cloverville where, as she'd feared, there was nothing for her.

Still he owed her that apology. His legs leaden, not from his run but with dread, he walked up the drive to his house and pulled open the screen door of the kitchen. His mother would have Abby's cell number. All these years they'd kept in close contact. He could only imagine how disappointed she'd be that he'd hurt Abby. Again.

"Ouch," yelped a feminine voice as a head cracked against his chin in the kitchen doorway.

Strong hands closed around Abby's upper arms, holding her steady as stars danced before her eyes. Then the stars flickered out and disappeared, leaving only Clayton's face, his eyes shining brighter than any of them. She'd been about to head for town, to confront him, after sending away the cab and calling Mrs. Mick to keep Lara occupied a while longer.

"I'm not leaving," she blurted out.

"But I saw the cab..."

"I'm not leaving," she repeated, and as she said it, she accepted that she'd come
home,
to stay. No matter what happened with Claylon. But she'd wear him down—if not today, eventually.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The apology struck her like a slap, and she drew in a quick breath.

"Not that you're staying," he said, his words rushing together. "I'm sorry for how I treated you."

With more tenderness and generosity than she'd ever known? Mrs. Mick was right. Clayton loved her. While he hadn't admitted it in words, he'd betrayed himself with his actions.
He loved her.

He cupped her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that streamed from her eyes. His voice thick with misery, he said again, "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." she said. "You love me."

His hands dropped from her face and he stepped back, banging into the screen door that had closed behind him, trapping him in the kitchen with her.

Abby's smile grew. Who was running now?
"You
love
me,"
she repeated.

He shook his head. "I was honest with you. I have so much... I can't..."

"Take on any more responsibility?" she finished for him, her confidence growing. "I know. You were honest with me. It's yourself you're lying to, Clayton McCHntock."

"Abby."

"I've been taking care of myself for eight years and Lara for the last four." Only today had she failed her child, hurting her needlessly. But Lara was a sweetheart, and she would forgive her mother. Clayton needed to forgive himself. "I worked my way through school, and started my own successful business. I don't need anyone to take care of me."

She was right, of course. She didn't need him. While the thought should have filled him with relief, his heart clenched with regret instead.

"
I
can take care of
you."
Despite her words, she didn't wear her sassy smile. Her eyes didn't twinkle with that mischievous glint. She was serious.

Clayton swallowed hard, choking on emotion, but he couldn't accept Abby's words. She grabbed his hand, her fingers twining with his, and she tugged him down the hall.

They must be alone in the house if she was leading him toward the stairs. To her bed? His body tensed, hardening with need for her. Even after all the times they'd made love this morning and the night before, he wanted her again. Still. Always.

But she stopped at the doorway to his father's den. "If you ever want to move on, Clayton, you have to go back." She blew out an unsteady breath. "I realize that now that I'm back home. I was running. From the past...and the future. I could never fall in love because my heart was always here. With you."

"But I was never nice to you," he reminded her, concerned that she'd painted him in some romantic light when he really belonged in the dark.

"You weren 't much older than me, but you were so
responsible."
She said the last word wistfully, as if it were something special, as if
he
were something special. "You know how I grew up, with parents who were everything but responsible. They didn't care about me, and I was their only child."

Fortunately they hadn't had any more. Some people couldn't handle responsibility. Most of the time Clayton suspected he was one of those people. He'd managed the business. But Rory and Molly and Colleen...

"But you," she continued, "you cared about everyone. You look care of everyone."

"But you," he reminded her.

"You tried. You stopped me from getting that tattoo."

Which he'd occasionally regretted.

"I didn't like you then," she admitted. "But I think I must have already begun to fall in love with you. That's why I took a chance on Lara's dad. He reminded me of you. But he wasn't."

Because he'd hurt her. He'd let her down. Clayton's gut twisted into knots as he worried that he would, too. "I'm sorry," he said. She deserved happiness, real happiness.

And so did he.

He passed her in the doorway, stepping into his father's den for the first time in eight years. Abby squeezed his hand. He hadn't even realized their fingers were still interlaced. She was like that, already wrapped around his heart. He couldn't let her go.

But she was right. He had to face the past in order to have a future.

Don't
be so hard on that poor girl,
his father's voice, weak from fighting cancer but strong with conviction, echoed in the room. He'd known Abby wasn't responsible for the accident. He must have known she'd been covering for Colleen. He hadn't left this room, his bed, in so long, but still he'd seemed to know everything that had gone on in his family's lives and hearts.
You'll regret it, if you drive her away.

Tears stung eyes that had remained dry all through his father's final battle. Even after his father had lost, Clayton hadn't cried. He'd held his sisters and his mom when they'd wept. But he'd never shed a tear over his father's passing.

"Why do you want
me,
Abby?" he asked. "I'm a cold, unfeeling..."

She pressed her fingers against his lips. "Shut up," she said, tears streaking down her face. "Don't talk that way about the man I love."

"Abby, I don't deserve you."

"No, you don't," she agreed with him. Finally.