Double Wedding Ring (22 page)

She almost wished he would leave.

“Arm hurts,” Cody said, snuggling his stuffed bear against his cheek as Malorie tucked the covers around him.

“Want me to kiss it and make it well?”

He nodded and offered her the arm that was bruised from the IV needle and scraped from his fall. She kissed it thoroughly.

“Cody, you're a pretty big boy now, and I have a very important question for you.” Her mouth was dry and she wasn't sure she could continue. “I want to be your mommy from now on. Would that be all right with you?”

He frowned. “Aweady have a mommy.”

“She'll be your grandmommy. And that means you'll have something you never had before. A great-grandmommy.”

“Who'll be my sissy?”

“Someday, we'll get you a new sister. Or even a brother.” Surely, she told herself, it would happen sometime. Surely, now, thanks to Sam and a strange quirk of fate, she could get on with her life. “How would you like that?”

Cody seemed to consider the possibilities, then his eyes began to drift shut. “And a new kitty, too? For Butch to play with? Jake has a kitty.”

Malorie chuckled. “We'll see.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he murmured, and then he was asleep.

Telling herself the worst was over, Malorie watched her son sleep for a few more minutes. She knew the adjustment might take some time; she knew there might be repercussions from Betsy. But at least she had started down the right path. And if Sam was right, she might measure up a little better once she reached the end of this particular branch in the road.

Sam. She still had to face him, tell him what she'd done.

She waited for a moment, hoping her heartbeat would slow. But it didn't. Maybe the worst wasn't over, after all.

S
AM LEANED AGAINST
the wall, wondering what was happening now. He wanted answers, but he didn't know what questions to ask.

From behind Cody's bedroom door, he heard the soft murmur of voices. He wanted to be in that room with Malorie, that was the only thing he knew for certain. He loved her—maybe even more so now that he understood what she had been through.

But did
she
love
him
enough to accept his support?

When the bedroom door opened, he stood upright and faced her. She looked into his eyes, and he saw that all her fear was gone. In its place was a new determination, and a certain serenity that lifted his own heart.

“Marry me,” he said.

“Don't. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

She raised her chin in that defiant way she had learned from her mother and looked him squarely in the eyes. He knew that, whatever she said, it couldn't possibly make a difference.

“I've decided to raise him myself. I already asked him if I could be his new mommy.”

Joy wasn't something Sam had much experience with; but if he'd had to put a name to what he felt fluttering to life within him, that's the word he would have chosen. What a joy to see the woman he loved growing in courage and strength. “Will this confuse him?”

“He's young. We'll go slow.” She sounded so calm, so sure, that Sam didn't have a moment of doubt she was doing the right thing. “All I know is, what we've been doing will never work. Someday he would've learned the truth. And by then it might've been too late to make things right.”

He could have kissed her for her wisdom. “How will Susan feel about it?”

“She understands. I think she agrees it's the right thing to do.”

“So do I.”

She smiled softly. “Do you?”

“Absolutely.” Now, he thought. If I sound as rational as she sounds, maybe this won't strike her as crazy. “Do you think it would be too much all at once if Cody suddenly had a new father, too?”

Malorie shook her head. “No, Sam. That's not necessary. And it's not the right reason. I'll be okay, you know.”

He took her hands in his. “There's only one reason I want to marry you. I love you. I want you to be my wife.”

“But now—”

“Now I'll be doubly blessed. I'll have a wife
and
a son.”

She hesitated, searched his face. He saw the moment when her decision came, saw the impish gleam that suddenly came into her blue-gray eyes. “He wants a kitten, too. For his puppy to play with.”

Sam laughed. “Whatever he wants.” He pulled her into his arms. She felt soft and giving in a way she never had before, when there were secrets between them. “Whatever
you
want.”

“You wouldn't feel...cheated?”

“No, Malorie, I won't feel cheated. But I don't feel especially patient, either. How would you feel about a Christmas wedding?”

* * *

T
HE ANNOUNCEMENT
of the wedding was the only bright spot in Susan's day. And she was grateful when Malorie and Sam left, hand-in-hand and chattering enthusiastically, to talk to the minister about a Christmas wedding. Their departure made it easier for Susan to sneak off into her room. She wanted to be alone.

She should have known better.

Tag came in without knocking. Susan's chair faced the side porch, and she pretended to watch the rain trickling down the screen.

“I'm tired.” She didn't turn around. “You should go home.”

He put something on her bed. Her bag, she supposed. Her bag with the engagement ring tucked inside.

“We should offer Sam the ring,” she said. “That would be a nice touch, don't you think? Sort of a family heirloom.”

He came and knelt beside her. She tried not to register his presence.

“Don't do this, Susan.”

“It's best.”

“How can it be best?”

His voice commanded her attention, and she looked at him. Twenty-five years of emptiness and betrayal and broken dreams shone in his eyes, and she looked away quickly.

“Susan, when I was talking to Betsy, I—”

“I heard it. She's right.”

“No, she's not. I—”

“She
is.
Who are we fooling?”

“Didn't we just have a wonderful day in the mountains together? Didn't we?”

“I'm tired.” She rubbed her forehead, felt the scar beneath her fingertips. Whenever it started to hurt there, she knew she would soon be reacting irrationally, behaving childishly. She didn't want Tag to see her that way. Not now. Not ever.

“Go away, Tag. Go away and leave me alone.”

* * *

S
USAN LOST HERSELF
in frenetic wedding plans over the week and a half that remained before Christmas. She hadn't the heart for much physical therapy, and completely avoided work on her reading and writing. It reminded her too much of Tag.

“Mother, you can't put everything on hold,” Malorie said one day after a discussion of using the traditional wedding vows versus writing her own. She had come home at lunchtime to discover that Susan and Addy Mayfield had spent the time they normally spent quilting planning a reception menu. “Your progress is a lot more important than this wedding.”

“Don't be silly,” Susan said briskly. “There'll be plenty of time to worry about reading and writing after your wedding. But my only daughter just gets married once.”

Malorie dropped to her knees beside her mother's chair. “Oh, Mother, sometimes I get scared. It's all worked out too perfectly.”

Susan brushed her daughter's cheek with the back of her hand. Soft, almost as soft as Cody's cheek. “Sometimes life treats us that way. Makes up for all the times it shoves us around, wouldn't you say?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“First love is a treasure,” Susan said. “Always remember that.”

Despite the misery dwelling in the center of her being, she did find happiness in watching Malorie blossom. She also found a certain peace in having recovered the treasured memory of her own first love. Over and over, she allowed herself to revisit those memories and tried to accept the fact that was all she would ever have.

But it's enough,
she told herself. She almost believed it.

Susan also watched with satisfaction as Malorie stepped into the role of Cody's mother. Although she hated admitting it, even to herself, at least part of her satisfaction came from Betsy's grim-lipped disapproval of this change in their lives.

“Guess what, Mommy!” Cody had flung himself into Susan's lap the morning after he came home from the hospital, once again apple-cheeked, despite the ugly scrapes on his face, arm and leg. “You're my gramma now! I love you, Gramma!”

She hugged him back and, for the first time since her accident, felt the fullness of her love for this little boy. “That's wonderful, Cody!”

“And I have a new mommy and soon I can have a new sister and a new brother and a new kitty like Jake and—” he paused for dramatic effect “—best of all, a new daddy!”

Susan gave him another hug before he toddled off to be lifted into his high chair. Betsy plopped him into place without a word. But later she leaned over Susan and hissed, “What kind of insanity has taken hold of you and that daughter of yours?”

“Malorie has decided to—”

“Malorie. How very unlikely. More likely Eugene has talked you into abandoning the boy because he'd be a hindrance.”

“Mother, I won't discuss Tag with you. And I suggest you get used to the idea that Malorie and I are no longer going to live our lives under your thumb. We're both grown now. It just took me a little longer than it took my daughter.”

Susan calmed her seething temper by reminding herself that she, at least, would count the blessings in being a mother and grandmother. Anyone lucky enough to be in her place, she told herself, shouldn't spend her time pining for the loss of her childhood sweetheart. And that's all Tag Hutchins was. A part of her lost youth.

* * *

R
UMMAGING THROUGH
the toolbox on the ground, Tag sensed a presence and peered over the seat of his motorcycle. He gasped. Sixteen-year-old Susan, dressed in a flowing skirt and a tie-dyed peasant blouse, walked toward him.

“Hi, Mr. Hutchins.”

Tag braced his bad knee and stood. “Afternoon, Mal.”

She looked shy, but not as uncertain of herself as she had six weeks ago when she first walked into his store. She'd taken on a certain mature dignity since claiming her son. That made her look even more like Susan, he realized, because his young Susan had never been plagued with uncertainty.

Damn it all,
he thought.
Forget her.

Oh, yeah,
his ill-temper snapped back.
And while you're at it, why don't you stop breathing for the next few hours. That'd be a helluva lot easier.

Malorie stared at the ground, where he'd scattered his bike-maintenance tools. “I wondered why you hadn't come into the store today. Getting ready for a race?”

Tag wasn't sure what he was getting ready for. He only knew that it had seemed like the right time to get his bike tuned up again. Maybe even time to check on his trailer, which he'd left in the two-bit town where Sam found him after his mother's stroke. The road kept calling; the familiar pull was the only thing that counteracted the powerful lure of the woman in the house across the street.

“Something like that,” he said.

She nodded, leaned over and picked up one of the tools. “What's this for?”

“Whatever's on your mind, spit it out,” he said as softly as he could manage. Visions of Susan began to crowd into the parts of his mind he was trying to fill with that map he kept in his head, the map of all the side roads and off-the-beaten-path routes to nowhere he'd traveled over the years.

Malorie took a long, deep breath, but she was smiling. “I'm glad Sam didn't get the Hutchins temper.”

“You should be.”

“I wish you'd come see Mother.”

Tag leaned over and snatched a greasy rag off the nearly bare ground behind his mama's house. He wiped his hands, paying careful attention to the grease accumulating beneath his nails. They'd been damn near grease-free these past few months. Old habits died hard, he supposed.

“She doesn't want to see me,” he said when he was satisfied that the greasy rag wasn't doing a thing to clean him up.

“Yes, she does. She just...maybe she's just scared.”

“Maybe.” He took in her earnest expression and felt a softening. “Maybe we all get scared.”

“Think about it. Okay?”

“Sure.” He wasn't soft enough yet to tell her that was
all
he thought about.

She made no move to leave. “The new part-timer, she's doing pretty well. I was thinking, maybe she could take over a few days after Christmas. So Sam and I can get away. Just a few days, and you'll be there to keep an eye on her. Not a whole week or anything.”

Tag didn't see any point in mentioning that he might not be around to keep an eye on the new clerk or the store or anything else in Sweetbranch. “Take all the time you want.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hutchins. Is there something you'd rather I call you—instead of Mr. Hutchins, I mean?”

At this late date, he saw no point in telling her that every time she said it, he felt like a broken-down version of his old man. “Doesn't matter to me, Mal.”

“Oh. Well, there was one other thing.”

Now she looked uncertain. Tag fingered the key ring in his pocket and wished she would go away.

“At the wedding...well, I wondered if you'd, you know, walk down the aisle with me?”

Tag flung his rag to the ground. The request slammed him in the gut, took the wind right out of him. He wanted to knock the tires out from under his bike with one vicious kick. Violence seemed a better alternative than crying.

“Sorry,” he said. “I'm...not sure I can make it.”

He didn't look at her, but he heard the little-girl disappointment in her voice. He called himself a lot of names he wouldn't have repeated aloud in front of her.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, if you change your mind—”

“Sure. I'll let you know,” he said.

She sighed. “Well, I guess I ought to let you get back to your work.”

He watched her walk away. Her skirt swished around her calves. The little bit of late-afternoon sunlight glinting through the bare trees caught on her hair. Tag opened his mouth to call her name, tell her he would be there for her. But he told himself the only thing he could accomplish would be to hurt a lot of people.

Better if he stayed out of it.

He looked back at his bike. Afraid he still might give his tires a good, hard swipe with his boot, he turned and walked into the house. Just so he finished by Christmas Eve.

* * *

S
USAN HAD FORGOTTEN
many things, but she still remembered that Santa Claus existed only for the very young.

As Christmas Eve wound to a close, she nevertheless harbored a secret hope that the old elf would put something in her stocking to ease the hurt.

More than a mouse still stirred in the house when she wheeled herself into her room with the excuse that she was tired. She sat in her chair in the darkness, listening to the sounds of her brother, his wife and their grown children, laughing with Malorie and Sam as they experienced the joys of Some Assembly Required.

What had she done? How had she been so cowardly? And could she ever find the courage to do anything about it?

Sam had gone out the front door, the lights downstairs had just gone out, and she heard five giggling adults creeping up the stairs when another sound split the night.

Tag's motorcycle roared down Mimosa Lane. Heading out, away.

Susan didn't need Santa Claus to tell her he wouldn't be back.