Can't Stop Loving You (19 page)

What in the devil was going on? Hadn’t he
flown all the way across country to find out?

“Why don’t we find a quiet place where we can
sit down for a minute and talk, Helen?”

“I need to get my bags so I can check into
the hotel. I’m tired.”

“Why don’t you and Marsha go directly there.
I’ll take care of the bags and join you later.”

“You’re booked at our hotel?”

That did it.

“Am I booked at your hotel!”

“You needn’t shout. I’m not deaf.”

Heads began to turn in their direction.
Someone in the crowd shouted, “It’s Brick and Helen Sullivan,” and
a small crowd began to gather at the foot of the escalator.

“I realize that old saying about absence
making the heart grow fonder is a bunch of hogwash, but I didn’t
think my own wife would turn me out after only eight weeks.”

“You’re making a scene.” The only sign Helen
showed that she was irritated was a slight frown.

“You’re my wife, for Pete’s sake. I think
you’re worth making a scene over.”

“Can’t we discuss this later, Brick?”

“When? Next week? Next month? Next year?”

The escalator malfunctioned and ground to a
stop. Neither of them noticed.

Helen turned her back and stoically faced
forward. He caught her shoulders and forced her to look at him.

“When, Helen?”

“Not now, Brick. I have a headache.”

Helen had never acted this way before, not
even when she’d left him at the end of a five-year marriage. Brick
began to panic. Logic fled.

“I won’t be shut out, Helen. Not now. Not
ever again.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she caught it between her
teeth. If Brick hadn’t been in such a state of panic, he’d have
crumbled at that small sign of Helen’s distress.

He was like a snowball on a downhill roll;
he’d gotten off to a bad start at the beginning, and now there was
no way he could keep himself from crashing into everything in his
path.

“Helen, you put me off at Matt’s wedding

“I put
you
off?”

“You wouldn’t change your plans.”

“
I
wouldn’t change plans? What about
you? You wouldn’t change your precious plans either.”

“The important thing—”

“Yes, Brick. Let’s talk about the important
thing.” Her face flushed, and she brushed a lock of hair out of her
face. “The important thing is that you told that... that
gorilla
that you were too smart to have children.”

“You’re the one who’s always been too scared
to have children, Helen. Not me. I always wanted children...”

“You did?”

“Yes. But I don’t have to have them to make
my life complete, Helen. I have you, and that’s all that matters.”
Her lip trembled in earnest now, and a tiny tear eased out of the
corner of her eye. Brick was too overwrought to notice.

“It’s not all that matters,” she said.

“Yes, it is. Let’s leave children out of
this...”

“I can’t.”

“You can if you want to, Helen.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks now. Silently,
Marsha passed her a tissue.

“I’m afraid not, Brick. It’s too late.”

“Helen, don’t be...” Comprehension dawned
slowly but surely. Brick studied his wife’s tear-streaked face. The
light of love he’d looked for earlier was now shining in her eyes.
“You’re
pregnant?”

Ever the actor, his awed stage whisper
carried to the crowd waiting at the bottom of the stalled
escalator.

“Helen Sullivan is going to have a baby,”
someone yelled.

The rest of the crowd took up the cry.

“Brick and Helen Sullivan are pregnant.”

“Do you think it will be a boy or a
girl?”

“Do you think they’ll let it act?”

“What do you think they’ll name it?”

Marsha pulled out another tissue, but she
didn’t hand it to Helen. She used it to wipe her own eyes.

“Glory be,” she said. And then as Brick
caught his wife in a tight embrace, “The saints be praised.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, darling?”
Brick murmured against his wife’s lips.

“I just found out myself.”

“Are you happy, Helen?”

“Ecstatic... now that I know you want her
too.”

“Her?”

“The baby. I’m going to dress her in pink and
stroll her around the neighborhood in a pram with a ruffled
top.”

“It’s going to be a boy. And no son of mine
is ever going to ride in a pram with ruffles.”

“It’s not a boy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve decided to have a girl
first.”

He pulled her so close, she lost her breath.
Bending her over backward, he pressed his lips to her throat.

“First?” he whispered.

“We’re going to have lots of babies.”

“Don’t you think we ought to get started,
darling?”

“I think we already did.”

As the power came back on, his lips closed
over hers, and they rode the escalator toward the cheering
audience. When they reached the bottom, Brick Sullivan scooped his
favorite leading lady into his arms and took a bow.

“Encore,” somebody in the audience said.

His lips closed over Helen’s once more.

“With pleasure,” he said. “Always.”

“Would you look at that little smile, Brick?
I think she already knows me. Don’t you, darling? Don’t you already
know your mother? Yes, you do.”

Helen and her daughter were both dressed in
pink. Pink roses filled her hospital room and a pink rose corsage
was pinned to her pillow. She leaned over the tiny pink bundle in
her arms, cooing.

Brick was so full of pride and love, he
thought his heart would burst. Standing at the window, he drank in
the sight of his wife and daughter.

A family.
After all these years he
had a family of his own.

A tiny enraged person let out a big squall,
and Helen glanced at Brick in alarm.

“He wants his mother,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I can tell.”

Brick smiled down at the tiny blue bundle in
his arms.

“Listen to that voice projection,” he said.
“My son will soon be ready to play Macbeth.”

“John’s not practicing oratory. He’s
hungry.”

Smiling, Brick placed his son at Helen’s
breast, then picked up his daughter.

“How’s Daddy’s little girl? How’s my little
Jennifer?” The baby’s tiny hand closed around Brick’s finger. “Look
at that, Helen. She knows who her daddy is.” He leaned close to coo
at his daughter. “Don’t you, sweetheart? Don’t you know your daddy?
Look at that, Helen. She’s
smiling.”

“That’s gas.”

Brick gave his wife an offended look, then
carried his daughter to the window.

“Look out there, sweetheart. That whole big
world is yours. It’s just waiting out there for you to take it by
storm. You’ll be the finest Ophelia who ever graced a stage. When
you play Kate, you’ll have the audience at your feet. And do you
know who your biggest fan will be? Your daddy.”

Baby Jennifer made squeaking, contented baby
sounds, and Brick smiled at his wife as if he’d invented
babies.

Helen smiled back. She thought perhaps he
had.

o0o

THREE YEARS LATER

Marsha tucked Helen’s letters she was mailing
to the Forever Friends into her handbag, then left her desk to peer
into the bassinet. Baby Oliver lay on his stomach with his little
rump in the air and his thumb in his mouth.

“Do you need anything else before morning,
Helen?”

“No. Brick and I are taking the children to
the park.”

Marsha paused on her way out the door to lean
over the bassinet and pat the plump little baby’s bottom.

“The nanny is completely redundant. I don’t
know why you and Brick waste your money.”

“We thought you needed help in trying to keep
us straight.”

“You’ve got that right. If you have any more
babies, I’m going to have to ask for a raise. This job’s getting
too big for me to handle.” Marsha’s grin belied her words. She
righted the hat she’d taken to wearing lately, then gave the baby
one final pat. “See you in the morning, sweet pea.”

Helen lifted her sleeping son from the
bassinet and went to the nursery. John was on a little rocking
horse with his baseball cap askew and his sneakers on the wrong
feet. Brick sat in the middle of the floor, trying to fashion a bow
of Jennifer’s sash.

“You’re letting her wear that frilly dress to
the park?” Helen asked.

“She wanted to.”

“She’ll be much more comfortable in
shorts.”

“Ruffles, Mommy.” Jennifer stuck out her
little chin.

“She wants ruffles.” Brick wore the look of a
man totally besotted with his daughter.

Helen knew when she was outnumbered.

“Here. Hold the baby while I change John’s
shoes.”

“No, Mommy,” he said when she bent to put his
shoes on the correct feet.

“He wanted to put on his shoes all by
himself,” Brick said.

“What am I going to do with you?” Helen said,
smiling.

“Take me to the park?”

Brick, Helen, and baby Oliver lounged on a
quilt under the shade of an oak tree while Jennifer and John romped
in the sandbox nearby. John had both shoes off now, and was
wiggling his feet in the sand while Jennifer raced around with a
miniature dump truck making roaring noises. Her sash was untied,
her dress was ripped, and her pink hair bow was perched rakishly
over one ear.

Brick smiled at all his children, then
reached for his wife’s hand.

“I think we should reprise
The Taming of
the Shrew.
”

“I’m not ready to go back on the road.”

“Who said anything about the road?” Brick
turned Helen’s hand over and kissed her palm. “How would you feel
about starring right here in Atlanta at The Sullivan Theater.”

“The Sullivan Theater?”

“We can build the kind of theater we’ve
always wanted to play in, everything state of the art.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“Just think, Helen. No more road trips. Total
control of the plays we do. Onstage together whenever we want.
Eventually we could bring a troupe in. The Sullivan Players.”

Helen watched the twins frolicking about,
screaming with laughter. Baby Oliver rolled over on his back and
gave a big yawn before tumbling back into the baby dreams that
occupied most of his day.

“We could have our own troupe,” she said.

“Three is a good start.”

“Four.”

“Four?”

Smiling, Helen nodded. Brick stretched full
length beside her and pressed his face against her abdomen.

“Hello in there, sweet little one. This is
your daddy talking.” He grinned up at Helen. “He didn’t answer
me.”

“She.”

“She?”

“I’ve decided to have another girl.”

“The next time I get to choose the sex.”

“Do you think there will be a next time?”

His grin was decidedly wicked as he pulled
her down beside him on the quilt.

“My darling, I can guarantee it.”

With the laughter of his children climbing
toward the summer sun, Brick Sullivan went about the business of
kissing his favorite leading lady.

o0o

Coming August, 2013 –
The Sweetest
Hallelujah
by Elaine Hussey (
pen name for Peggy
Webb),
literary fiction in trade paperback, E-book, and audio,
published by MIRA. In 1955, two women cross color lines to save a
child. Now available for pre-order.

o0o

Chapter Excerpt Romance,
E-book

Peggy Webb

(now available)

Six years was too long to live a lie.
Standing at the railing with her back to the sea, Kathleen Shaw
watched her husband cross the teakwood deck. His generous smile
would have broken her heart if she’d had a heart to break.

When he got close enough, he slid his arm
around her and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I don’t know which is more breathtaking,
darling, you or the sea. No wonder you spend so much time up
here.”

“The water is peaceful, Earl.”

He pulled her close, and she leaned against
him, unconsciously reaching for the gold locket that nestled
between her breasts.

“Enjoy it while it lasts. We’ll be docking at
Cape Town tomorrow, and you’ll be the belle of a social whirl that
will make Mardi Gras seem tame.”

“You’re the one who will cause the stir,
Doctor.”

“My Kathleen. Always sweet and sassy.” He
kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Are you ready for dinner,
darling?”

“You go ahead. I’ll be down in a while.”

“Don’t take too long. Time drags when you’re
not at my side.”

She blew him a kiss, and he caught it in his
left hand and pressed it to his lips. Dr. Earl Lennox, brilliant
scientist, great humanitarian, adoring husband. How could she ever
tell him good-bye without destroying him?

As soon as he was out of sight, she hurried
to their cabin and got a small silver box that was buried
underneath her lingerie. Just holding the box felt like a betrayal
of her husband. He would be sipping a glass of wine now, probably
smiling, expecting at any moment to see her slip through the door
and take her place at his side.

Her hands trembled as she pressed the spring
on her gold locket and took out a tiny key. Opening the box, she
took out the contents, a stack of letters yellow with age.

She was shivering now with the need to see
the words that had sustained her for so many years, but she
couldn’t bear to read them in the room she shared with her husband,
in view of the bed where they had made sedate, gentle love. With
the letters pressed close to her heart, she hurried topside. The
moon was out and the water had turned to pewter.

Leaning against the railing, she opened the
first letter and began to read:
Kat, Even as I write I can feel
you lying naked in my arms. I can see the pattern the sun makes on
your skin as it comes down through the Spanish moss. Here is my
heart, love. Wear it next to yours until I come again.
Hunter.