Jane's Long March Home (17 page)

Speculation brightened Hawke’s eyes.

He was offering her a great opportunity. One she’d waited a long time for. The problem was, she didn’t want it any more. And she thought he knew it, the old buzzard.

Her stomach took a tumble. Was she brave enough to turn down the perfect job on the remote chance that Chase might still want her?

*

Jane had been gone three weeks when Chase finally threw in the towel. At first, missing her so much he couldn’t think straight, he’d consoled himself with the reassurance that at least the kids were safe and happy.

He should be proud he’d accomplished what he set out to do. And, he was. The Marine had recovered from her wounds inside and out.

He’d been in touch with his brother. Nate was taking off on a road trip to clear his head.

Chase stopped outside the office. The door was half opened. Zach stood at the window. Abby was perched on the edge of his desk chair staring at the computer screen.

They checked every day for a message from Jane. And, he read to them every night from the book she’d left behind, but it wasn’t the same as having her here.

He kept thinking that he could get over the Marine, forget her, but it just wasn’t happening. Though he was growing to love the children more and more every day, his food tasted like dirt and the days were just too empty without the lady who make life sparkle with a magic he'd never known before.

“I miss her.”

“We all do.” Zach leaned over his sister’s shoulder. “Is there an email from her?”

Chase moved back into the shadows of the hallway, unwilling to intrude on the kids, and curious too, if they’d heard anything.

Jane had let him know she’d gotten to Parris Island, and he should have responded, but he couldn’t. Every tie, every connection, kept the memories of her too fresh.

He even avoided his uncle's calls. If he was going to move on with his life, he reasoned, he couldn’t engage in long distance, impersonal chitchat.

“Not yet,” Abby echoed his thought.

“We have to come up with a way to bring her back.” That was Zach. During the time Jane had been gone, he’d discovered the boy had remarkable skills getting to the root of a problem.

“I could fall and hurt myself again.” And, Abby was the implementer. They’d gotten her cast removed last week. Chase shivered at the idea of her going through that again, even to bring Jane home.

“That’s a good idea, but I don’t think it will work.”

“Why?”

“Well-”

“Oh, I know. We could kidnap Miss Jane, like Goldie tried to kidnap me. Except, she’s very far away.”

Chase swallowed the chuckle building in his chest. The kids might be going about it all wrong, but they had the right idea. It was time to bring the Marine home.

“Yeah, that probably won’t work either, since I can’t drive, and they’d put you in jail.”

“Gus and Miss Maxine could drive.”

 “True. But maybe Miss Jane doesn’t want to see Chase.”

At night, Chase lay in the dark and wondered the same thing.

Abby squealed. “Zach, look.”

“What?”

When Chase casually strolled into the office - he couldn't stop himself, Zach was writing on a scrap of paper. “Any new messages?”

The boy shoved the paper in his pocket. “Just spam.”

Chase’s curiosity, or maybe it was his urgent need to see Jane again, to hold her in his arms, took a dive.

She’d touched him - all of them - in ways she never intended. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. He’d never rest easy until he had her in his life permanently. Even if that meant giving up everything and moving his new family back east.

The next morning he explained his plan to Gus. Maxine, who’d gotten into the habit of coming over to cook breakfast
and
to go over the arrangements for their upcoming nuptials, poured pancake batter onto the sizzling griddle.

 “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping an eye on the place? It won’t interfere with the wedding?”

“Heavens no.” Maxine slid two steaming plates of pancakes and eggs onto the table. “We’re not putting on a lavish show. Life’s too short.”

Chase had to agree with his smiling neighbor. Every minute that Jane was gone; every second he did nothing about the empty ache in his chest, was more time wasted.

He’d been a fool to let her go. At the time, he’d thought it was the right thing to do. You know, let the little dove fly free so she’d come back.

 What hogwash. Who made up these stupid wives’ tales anyway? He snapped his coffee cup back onto the table, got up and took his unfinished plate to the sink.

“If we pack today, we can leave first thing in the morning.”

“Maxi and I’ll keep things going till you get back.”

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone. It could be awhile.”

“No matter.” Maxine joined him at the sink. “You just go and bring that girl home.”

Chase nodded. Intent on getting started as soon as possible, he missed the surprised look that passed between Zach and Abby; that they ate in too much of a hurry, abruptly excusing themselves when they finished.

Later, as he threw what they needed into travel bags, all he could think of was how wonderful all their lives would be once he convinced Jane to let them stay.

Jane Donovan Russell would be a handful, their life together nothing less than explosive. Chase grinned in anticipation. He was ready to take her on. And if he had to use a little skin to skin therapy to bring her around to his way of thinking, by God, he would.

The next morning, he paced at the bottom of the stairs, glancing at his watch, wondering what could possibly be taking the children so long. He’d roused them out of bed, fed them breakfast, and already loaded their bags in the truck.

Why was he still waiting for them to get dressed?

Anxious to be on his way, he stepped to the bottom of the stairs and shouted, impatience making him sound more frustrated than he intended. “Zach...Abby, come on. I want to get on the road before I go gray.”

“We’re coming.” Abby jumped the last few steps down the stairs, while Zach followed behind, moving slower than molasses as he yawned.

Chase couldn’t believe it. Suspicion narrowed his gaze on the dynamic duo. “Are you planning to travel in your pajamas?”

Abby giggled as a vehicle crunched on gravel out front. Whoever it was leaned on the horn, a demand to come front and center that irritated Chase’s already frayed nerves.

Spinning on his heel, he ground his molars. When he stepped off the porch, Jane was climbing out of her road-grimy Jeep. It was packed to the brim. 

For a second, he took a step back in time. A black tee shirt stretched lovingly across her curves. It was tucked into the same black jeans she’d worn the first time he’d seen her and wondered who the heck the sexy lady was.

Boots encased her feet. The dark aviator sunglasses were in place, hiding spectacular blue eyes. A sassy grin split her beautiful face.

Chase’s gut flipped as her long stride brought her to him. At the last minute she hesitated, but then launched herself at him, her arms winding around his neck, long legs wrapping around his hips.

“What are you doing here? We were just leaving to come to you.”

“You were?” Her grin softened. He could tell his announcement pleased her. Thank God.

If he had an ounce of self-preservation left, he would play it cool. But he didn’t. Instead he growled, pulling the word out into two syllables, “Yes!”

“I was miserable without you. It’s all your fault for showing me what I could have, if I just had the guts to reach out and grab it.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“So how long did it take you to figure it out?”

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”

For the first time in the weeks since she’d left, his world slid back into balance. “You bet your cute ass.”

Jane laid a hungry kiss on his lips. He would have given in right then and there, but he wanted more from her. He wanted the same words he planned to say to her.

He broke off the kiss. Leaned back a smidgen.

Her eyes sparkled with plain old fashioned happiness, and the sassiness he’d come to love about her. “I was in St. Louis when I realized I’d left the best part of myself on a hilly ranch in Oregon. I love you Chase Russell.”

The admission came quick, easing the ache in his heart. The morning sun beamed down its approval. Behind them, Abby clapped her hands, while Zach let loose an approving whoop.

“The Colonel once told me to take care of business and then I’d be able to get on with my life. Well, I took care of business and now I want to live my life - here - with you and our kids.” Uncertainty suddenly filled her beautiful face. “If you’ll have me.”

“What about the Corps?”

She shrugged. “I was up for re-enlistment. I decided not to take them up on the offer. My life there didn’t mean anything without you. So I emailed Zach and asked him if he would mind having a second mother.”

The love that swam in Jane’s eyes reached out to meet his. Chase didn’t keep her waiting.

“I love you Jane Donovan. You’ve taken my heart hostage. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Jane demonstrated her willingness by planting her lips on his, kissing him until they were both breathless. Their audience finished cheering, then turned away in disgust.

“They need to get a room,” Zach said to Abby.

Chase heartily agreed. Jane was finally home in his arms, and he knew exactly how he was going to celebrate.

*****

Read on for a sneak preview of Susan Lute's,
The London Affair
.

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*****

And don't miss:

A Girl Named Jane

The London Affair

The Return of Benjamin Quincy

THE LONDON AFFAIR

BY SUSAN LUTE

CHAPTER

I

February 7

T
he worst thing that could happen to a woman who’d been in love for the better part of thirty-five years was to end up alone.

Well, not totally alone.

But alone as only a fifty-five year old woman could be when she’s lost the very thing that made her life worthwhile.

Damn it, Jon!

Stella Carmichael eased the door of her Mount Tabor home closed and leaned against the hard wood, her head back, her eyes closed in a weariness she almost couldn’t bear.

Almost.

When she opened her eyes, it was to an eerily unlit house, flooded with the gray of encroaching twilight. It smelled empty, if empty had a smell. Kind of a lingering echo of the earthy cologne Jon loved, but not really that either.

Her ears rang with the angry pulse of her blood.

Forcing herself to take one breath, then the next, she didn’t notice when her purse dropped with a dull thud to the floor. Kicking off the shoes pinching her toes, she shrugged off her coat, dragged herself to the closet, looking for an empty hanger. But her limbs were too heavy to carry out the task of hanging up her coat.

And she would bet all that Jon had eagerly left behind - a sometimes contrary wife, his beautiful grown-up girls, the wayward granddaughter who was so much like him, the vintage home he’d helped restore, the job he coveted, their sometimes rocky, but for the most part, successful marriage - the feeling was never going to return to her arms and legs that felt like all the life had been sucked out of them.

Unable to bring herself to hang her coat next to the one he’d left behind, in a rare display of temper, she threw the offending garment in, slamming the door on the flying lump of black wool.

What were you thinking?
her heavy heart railed. At him. At herself for not taking better care of what she’d had.

The phone rang once and the answering machine clicked on in the other room. “Stella, this is Dana Murphy.” The doctor’s voice echoed in the somber stillness. “I’m calling to see how you’re doing. If you need anything at all, give me a call.”

Dana had a women’s clinic next door to Stella’s office. They referred patients to each other and had been friends on a professional level for a long time.

What she needed, the doctor couldn’t give her. Without bothering to turn on the lights, she made her way to the liquor cabinet her husband had meticulously made to fit into the pantry just off the kitchen.

She should sell the house and move on with her life, but thinking about it hurt too damn much.

It hurt that she couldn’t sit folded in his strong arms tonight, her back pressed close to his heartbeat as they watched their favorite romantic comedy on the big screen television he’d brought home on their last anniversary.

It hurt that she wouldn’t wake up next to Jon tomorrow morning, his soft snoring brushing across her ear.

And it hurt that she couldn’t smack him upside the head for the stunt he’d pulled, leaving her to watch the life they’d made together slip beyond her grasp.

For those reasons and those alone, she grabbed a full bottle of his favorite bourbon. Snatching a tumbler from the shelf above, she found her way by habit to the library that doubled as her office when she worked from home.

Stopping in the middle of the dark room, the bourbon in one shaking hand and tumbler in the other, clawing indignation mixed with her suffocating anguish. In the stillness where only overwhelming emotions had any life, the phone rang again. She didn’t move to answer the annoying summons.

“Mom. I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Call me as soon as you get this message.”

When the demanding voice of her oldest daughter faded, the stifling silence engulfed Stella once more. Marching to her desk, she put the glass in the crook of her arm, opened the top drawer and searched the contents until she found the bottle of sleeping pills Dana had ordered for her.

Gripping the container until her knuckles turned painfully white, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the opposite side of the room. The woman who stared back had an arrogant tilt to her head as if she had the answer to every problem. She looked controlled. Clever. Like a woman who had plans for her life and was right on track.

Stella sneered. Foolish, foolish woman.

Streaked blonde hair, not a strand out of place, curled serenely around her face, turning under at her shoulders. Intelligent, light brown eyes regarded her with pragmatic disinterest.

The woman didn’t look like she’d been robbed of thrity-five years of a nearly perfect life.

Okay, so maybe they hadn’t all been so perfect.

But, that didn’t give Jon the right to casually throw away everything they’d built. On a whim. On a moment of stupid, illogic-

The silly twit staring at her had no clue she’d received a mortal blow; that her heart was breaking into bitter pieces, the gates of her usually controlled emotions about to break open and flood the entire room.

At least Stella didn’t think she did until one lonely tear fell helplessly down her cheek.

Balancing the bourbon and pills close to her chest, she took a step toward the woman, struggling to pull the too heavy wedding set off her finger. In the silence of her ballooning misery, she wanted to throw the rings, but the best she could manage was to toss them against the mirror. They made a sharp ping when they hit and her voice cracked as if she hadn’t used it in a very long time.

“Hi. My name is Stella. And I’m about to consume a shit-load of alcohol. Want to join me?”

Wendy Warren, two-time recipient of the prestigious RITA Award ~
“Susan Lute is a beautiful keeper of the human heart. She explores the soul and leaves the reader certain life is worth the journey."

Night Owl Reviews ~
“Beautifully written story of the inner workings of a complicated family and the hope of new beginnings. Read this book with a box of tissues.”