Magnolia Dawn (19 page)

Macy opened her eyes and held out her other arm. “You, too, sugar sweet. Come to your old Macy.”

Anna did, and for a long time they just held each other. Finally Macy eased her hold on them, and sat back against the couch. But she held on to Rush's hand. “The Lord answered my prayers,” she murmured.
“I prayed I would see my little boy one time before I died.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, and Anna could see how their visit had fatigued her. Rush must have too, because he said gently, “We should leave you to rest, Macy.”

She opened her eyes and held on to his hand. “I have to know,” she said softly, her eyes full of hope. “Did your parents treat you right? Were they good people?”

Rush squeezed her fingers and smiled gently. “They were wonderful people. They loved me more than anything.”

The old woman smiled and leaned her head against the couch once more. She released Rush's fingers and sighed. “My little Robby. Who would have thought he'd come back to me?”

He stood and gazed down at her, his expression softer than Anna had ever seen it.

Anna bent and kissed Macy's damp cheek, and she and Rush crossed to the door. There, she turned back to her old friend. There was a question she had to ask, one that wouldn't wait until Macy had more energy.

Macy must have seen it in her expression because she motioned at her with her right hand. “Ask me, sugar sweet. I'll answer if I'm able.”

“Is there any chance that…Daddy really was Robby's father? Any chance at all?”

Macy shook her head. “Your daddy took off for weeks and months at a time. One time he didn't come home for nearly four months. That was when our little Robby was conceived. Considerin' the baby's birthday there was no question.”

Anna drew her eyebrows together. “But how had she planned to…explain that to Daddy?”

“Don't think she did, sugar sweet. I think she and Robby planned to run away together.” Macy shook her head. “Soon after, Robert disappeared. Heard tell he joined the army and got killed in Korea. His folks didn't have much, and they moved away not long after.”

So sad, Anna thought, softly closing the door behind them. Tragic. Those three adults had messed up their lives royally, but the one who had paid for it was Rush.

Anna bit her bottom lip. And what of her father? How could the man who had told her stories of Southern gentlemen and codes of honor have behaved in such a reprehensible manner? He'd lied to his wife, to
Macy. He taken out an act of vengeance on an innocent child. And how would she ever be able to think of him again and not shudder?

Anna glanced at Rush from the corner of her eye as they walked to the truck. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not telling Macy the truth about your life. It would have broken her heart.”

“I never want her to know the truth,” he said grimly. “Never.”

They didn't speak again, and as the truck ate up the miles between Macy's and Ashland, the silence became more and more deafening.

What was he thinking? Anna wondered. What was he feeling? She tried to put herself in his position, but found she couldn't.

She hugged herself. She ached. For people and events of the past that she couldn't change; for a future she feared she couldn't shape; and for the man she loved, whom she didn't know how to comfort.

She reached across the seat and touched his arm. “How do you feel?”

He glanced at her, then looked back at the road. A muscle worked in his tight jaw. “I don't want to talk, Annabelle. I need a little time to…sort it all out.”

Hurt speared through her, and she drew her hand away. He was shutting her out. His next move would be packing his bag for Boston.

Minutes later they pulled into Ashland's long, winding drive. Rush parked the truck, but neither of them made a move to get out. Anna stared at her hands, clasped in her lap. “When you do know how you feel, look me up. I think the least I deserve is a goodbye.”

Not trusting herself to look at him without bursting into tears, she opened the door, slipped out and walked away.

* * *

The new day had dawned clear and bright. Rush stood at the edge of his front porch and gazed at Ashland. Over the past few days he'd done his best to sort through what he'd learned about his past.
He'd gone back to the Ames
Gazette,
to the microfilms. There, on the society pages, he'd found pictures of his mother. And of his father.

He saw no physical resemblance between himself and Cecelia Ames, but in some of the photos his resemblance to Robert Truesdale, his father, was striking. Disconcerting, even, because looking at the photos he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this man, this stranger, was his father.

But still, he'd studied them with a certain detachment. These people had given him life but had never been a
part of his life. What was he supposed to feel for them?

Rush curved his fingers around the porch railing. And he thought about Joshua Ames and his hatred. And he'd wondered about that trip he'd taken up to Boston with him, wondered if he would ever remember.
Or if he even wanted to.

He'd talked to Macy every day, learning more with each conversation about the boy he had been, about what his life had been like at Ashland.

And during it all, Anna's question had played over in his head—
How do you feel?

How did he feel? As if a great weight had been lifted from him. He felt a tremendous sense of relief to finally know; a terrible sadness for the two people who had given him life.

And he felt an incredible sense of joy to know that he had been loved.

That meant more to him than anything else. It filled him with light and warmth. It made him feel, at last, free of the past. At last whole.

Rush smiled and drew in a deep, sweet breath. He had no desire, no need, to probe any deeper into his past. He had no want to find his biological family.

He'd done what he'd come to do. There was no reason for him to stay.

Except Anna.

His heart swelled. Anna had worked magic on him. He'd never known a woman like her before. It had taken her, and this place, to show him how rootless he was. And how much he longed for those roots. How much he missed them.

He loved her. With everything he was and would be. He loved her more than he'd ever thought himself capable of loving.

It felt wondrous. Miraculous and new.

Rush looked toward Ashland again. He missed her. He ached to hold her, to talk to her. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen what she meant to him?

Because he'd allowed the past to hold him back. Because he'd allowed fear of being hurt to control him. Because he hadn't been whole.

He was now. Now, he understood love. Now he was able to love.

If only it wasn't too late.

Heart pounding, he started for the house. And Anna.

* * *

Anna stepped out onto the gallery, Blue at her side. She walked to its edge and gazed out at the grove of magnolias. It had been three days since she and Rush had gone to Macy with her mother's sketch pads. Three days since she'd talked to Rush. Three days of emotional agony.

She'd left the ball in his court, although she didn't believe his next move would be much of a surprise. He didn't love her. He would leave, go back to Boston and the life he had known there.

And her life would never be the same.

Blue barked and bounded down the stairs. Anna turned in the direction he'd gone, her heart pounding, her mouth dry.

Rush rounded the house. She watched him as he stopped to scratch Blue's ears, then start toward her once more. She feasted her eyes on him, knowing it was probably one of the last times she would be able to do so.

He climbed the steps, crossing to where she stood. He didn't speak, didn't smile, and she clasped her hands in front of her. Her chest tightened and she fought for an even breath. This was it, she thought. This was goodbye.

He spoke first. “The other day you asked me how I felt. I didn't know then. I was still in a sort of shock. I know now.”

“Oh?” She swallowed. Hard.

“I love you, Anna.”

She took a surprised breath. “What?”

“I love you. I want to stay with you.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she shook her head. “You don't love me. You love Ashland.”

“No.” He caught her hands. “It's not Ashland. It's you. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. I—”

The tears spilled over, and she tugged against his grasp. “For a long time I prayed you would find your connection to Ashland and want to stay. I thought that would be enough for me. But it's not enough.”

“Anna—”

“No, let me finish. I want to be loved for me, Rush. Not for this place. I deserve to be loved wholly and without strings.”

He pulled her back to him. “It's not some
place
I belong, Annabelle. It's with some
one.
It's with you.” He cupped her face in his palms. “With you and by your side is where I'll always belong. No matter where we are. Belonging isn't about a place. It's about love.”

She searched his expression, her heart thundering in her chest, a cautious hope blooming inside her. She slipped out of his grasp and went to the edge of the gallery. For long moments she stared out at the grounds. Then she turned back to him. “How do I know that's the way you feel, Rush? How can I be sure it's me and not Ashland?”

“You have to trust me, Annabelle.” He held out his hand. “Trust me.”

She gazed at his outstretched hand, her heart thundering in her chest. All she had to do was grasp it. So simple. So natural.

“Trust me,” he murmured again. “Trust me.”

The breath shuddered past her lips. The joy burst into full bloom inside her.

He loved her! Wholly and without strings. He loved her as she'd always dreamed of being loved; as she deserved to be loved.

With a cry of happiness, she flew across the gallery and caught his hand. His fingers closed over hers—strong, dependable. Loving.

She tipped her face to his, meeting his steady gaze with her own. She would never look back. Never wonder.

“I love you, Rush.”

He smiled. “I love you, Annabelle.”

Turning, they went together into Ashland.

Epilogue

B
oston's Boylston Street bustled with activity. Rush looped an arm around Annabelle's shoulders, chuckling at her wide-eyed enthusiasm. “So, do you like it?”

She laughed. “Isn't it obvious? I love it!” She shook her head, then tipped her face up to his. “It's so different from the South. Everything about it—the buildings, the people, the air, even.”

“There's Small Miracles.” Rush pointed to a brownstone across from them. “Come on.”

They ducked across the street, earning the blare of a horn from a disgruntled taxi driver. “Do you think she'll be here?” Anna asked. “I can't wait to meet her.”

“I'm certain she will. I don't know why, but I am.”

They climbed the steps to the shop, opened the door and stepped inside. There they stopped, startled. Marla sat on the dainty settee Rush remembered from his last visit, the silver tea service on the table in front of her, a cup in her hand. Otherwise, the shop was empty.

She looked up when they entered, smiling brilliantly. “Welcome! Come in, come in. I've been waiting.”

She waved them inside and after exchanging an amused glance with Anna, Rush led her across the room. He smiled. “I don't know if you remember me—”

“Of course I do. Rush Cousins. I never forget a client.” She smiled again and turned her amazingly blue eyes to Anna.

Rush began the introductions. “Marla, this is Annabelle Ame—”

“From Ashland Plantation,” the pixieish woman finished for him. “And aren't you lovely, too? Happiness is so good for the complexion.”

Anna smiled. “Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“We've come to thank you,” Rush said, curving an arm around Anna and drawing her closer to his side.

“Thank me?” the tiny woman repeated. “Whatever for?”

“For bringing us together.” Anna caught Rush's hand. “If he hadn't found you and the music box, we wouldn't have found each other.”

Marla clapped her hands together. “But how wonderful.” She stood and came around to them. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed their cheeks. “I wish you all the happiness and love in the world.”

She stepped back from them, a hand over her heart. “Love is so…inspiring. To see such nice young people come together, well…” She shook her head. “It almost makes me regret that I'm getting out of the miracle business. But, I've earned my wings. So to speak.” She laughed. “And it's time for a vacation. Someplace warm, I think.”

“You're closing your shop,” Rush murmured, feeling a pang of regret. “You had some beautiful things.”

“I did, at that. Although I believe the music box was my most…exquisite of all.” She led them to the door. “I'll miss my Small Miracles but I'm looking forward to my vacation. I do so love to fly.”

After thanking Marla again, Rush and Anna stepped out into the bright and busy day. Rush caught her hand. “So, what did you think of my leprechaun?”

“Good fairy,” Anna corrected. “And you were right, she is strange. But in such a…warm way. She left me almost breathless.”

Rush laughed as they descended the stairs. “She does have a way with that.” He checked his watch. “Do you think Sandy, Joey and Shaun are okay? Maybe I should call. They haven't been with us that long, and I don't want them to—”

“They're fine.” She squeezed his hand. “Travis seemed pretty excited at the prospect of being foster daddy for a weekend.”

“Maybe I should call anyway.”

She laughed and shook her head. “We called before we left the hotel. They were doing great.”

“You're right. It's just that I want them to be…happy with us. Do you think they are?”

Anna stopped and lifted her face to his. “I think they're very happy. And I think you're the best foster daddy in the whole world.”

Emotion choked him, and Rush leaned down and kissed her. “I love you, Annabelle Ames.”

“Cousins,” she whispered against his lips. “Annabelle Cousins.”

* * * * *