Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (159 page)

They stood there, staring at the building. Jack shook his head. “Well…Heavenly Doggie and their sign aren’t there now,” he said, finally.

And then, Carrie saw something that made her forget about the sign and the kennel. Perched on the top of the knee-high grass as if placed there, she saw Ellie's collar, with its broken plastic clasp and its bone-shaped identity tag. “Jack. Look!” She grabbed it, lifting it up, not sure if she felt hopeful, happy or…something else. “Ellie,” she murmured, overwhelmed with a sharp sense of loss.

And yet, she realized, she'd gained. So much. She turned to her husband, standing there with a look on his face that told her no matter what, I'm here for you. Not alone. Not anymore. “It's Ellie's. Look!”

He reached for it, took it, looked at the tag; a frown crossed his brow. “Carrie…it says…” He blinked, shook his head, wiped his hand over his eyes and read it again. Then he looked at her with a bewildered expression. “When did you buy this tag?”

“The second day after I got her. The day she wiped out my savings and most of Nana's, too. I remember how sorry I was that I'd gotten it, because everyone could track me down and get money out of me.”

“But…” He thrust it out to her. “How did you know that…well…here.”

Carrie took the collar from him and read the tag. “Carrie Waters Gavigan. Wickford, Rhode Island.” Her heart did a funny bump in her chest. “But—but I didn't have it engraved like this! I just had my name. Waters. And my cell phone number.” She turned the bone over—and what she saw made her gasp and nearly drop it. “Jack!”

He moved to her side, and together, they read and reread the tag. With love and joy, Nana and Michelle. P.S. Name your next daughters Eleanor and Rebecca, after us.

Finally, when the words had grown too blurry to read because of the tears streaming down her cheeks, Carrie stopped reading the tag and looked up at her husband. “Jack?”

He shook his head. Then bent to kiss her. “Some things, Carrie-da, aren't meant to be questioned. They're just meant to be.”

“But…” she started, but her husband silenced her with his kiss. And she realized, as her love for him made her heart swell and her pulse race, he was right. She broke away. “Let's go start working on those daughters we’ve been promised.”

Jack grinned. Together they walked, arms around one another's waists and hands tucked into the waistbands of each other’s jeans, just like they had when they were kids. To the truck. To their honeymoon. To the rest of their lives.

THE END

Chapter 6

As she trailed after her mother, whose head was held so high anyone in front of her could see right up her nose, Cora wondered why someone so concerned with appearances of wealth did not have a maid do the shopping. Cora loved the market, loved the people and the frenzy of business being conducted. As a child, she had snuck out here from time to time with some of the other children, just to smell the bakery or the blacksmith or the leather worker.

But on the rare occasions she had been able to come with her mother, Cora had watched the older woman duck her head as if embarrassed and rush through the experience as quickly as possible, hurrying Cora along home with a swat to the rear end. Cora would protest, but it fell on deaf ears. Now, she remained silent, trying to ignore the airs her mother put on and simply delight in the activity and stimulation around her.

Of course, when her mother decided to argue with the butcher over a cut of meat, Cora wanted nothing to do with the scene. She slipped away, considering the produce at the grocer’s next door. She frowned at the vegetables, the quality lacking in her opinion. But then, Cora had grown up with fresh vegetables from the garden, and these were probably days old. Cora didn’t understand how the rich lived better and ate worse.

Not looking up, she turned around and bumped into someone, the restrictive clothing making her lose her balance. She would have fallen over if the person hadn’t caught her by the shoulders, and she gazed up with embarrassment that quickly rose in her neck and cheeks as she gazed up into a pair of soft brown eyes.

“Are you all right, Miss Ashton?” Joseph asked in a voice somehow familiar and yet much deeper and richer than she remembered.

She would have been much better if she wasn’t so flustered being this close to him. Years had passed, and still, she couldn’t get over his handsomeness. “Yes, thank you, Joseph.” And then she scowled at him. “And why are you calling me ‘Miss’ anything? I’m still Cora.”

He released her and took a short step back, his eyes twinkling as he tipped his hat to her. “I’m aware of who you are, Miss Cora. I’m merely offering a polite address.”

He must be teasing, she thought, and she put her hands on her hips and said, “Joseph Watts, I will not accept such formalities from the boy who pulled my braid, convinced me to take a swim with him in the river in winter, and talked me into running away when we heard my family was moving.”

He laughed with her, the sound smooth and delightful, and for just a moment, she remembered how happy life could be. Joseph’s smile, the right side just slightly higher than the left and forming a single dimple an inch from there,melted her heart. “What can I say? I have always wanted those I’m close to with me at all times.”

Despite their mirth, Cora heard an underlying somberness in his tone, and she felt the same in her soul. “Well, I can’t say I have any friends who enjoy adventure like you do. In fact, I find them all quite boring.” She wrinkled her nose and whispered the last.

With a mischievous grin, Joseph said, “If that is the case, perhaps we could run away for an hour or two again sometime. I might even be willing to pull your hair for old time’s sake.” Tiny wings fluttered in Cora’s stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to ask him to whisk her away right now, never to return to the vastly different life she so despised.

But his smile faded as he looked over her shoulder, and he bent at the waist in a deep bow before saying quite loudly, “Please forgive me. I’ll watch my step more carefully from now on. It was a pleasure to see you, Miss Ashton, and I wish you and your family well.” He stood and hurried off before she could respond, and Cora started after him.

But two steps was as far as she got, her mother’s hand on her arm wrenching her around. She glared down at Cora. “What in the world are you doing? Consorting with that filth!”

Cora gaped at her mother. “That was Joseph Watts. Or has money made you forget familiar names and faces?”

“I know exactly who that was, Cora, and you are not to fraternize with anyone below your station, much less a boy.” She practically spat the words, and Cora was offended. How could her mother be so heartless?

“He’s my friend,” Cora argued, her voice low. “It’s honorable to remember your friends.”

Her mother scoffed. “You have no idea what is honorable. And I’m certain that boy had nothing honorable in mind when his paws were all over you.”

“I ran into him and nearly fell!” Cora explained, incredulous. “His hands merely caught my shoulders and saved me from a mortifying fall.”

“Well, then, if something of that nature ever happens again, offer a penny and be on your way. Come now. We’re going home before you cause any more trouble.” Her mother dragged her along as if she was a small child, and Cora ducked her head now, completely humiliated, especially as she caught Joseph’s eyes from across the lane. He was angry and hurt, and now, Cora was as well.

And there was nothing she could do to make either of them feel better.

Chapter 7

As if Joseph needed a reminder that he was no longer considered an equal! Hester Ashton had never been particularly kind, but she’d let the wealth go to her head so fast he was surprised it wasn’t swirling. And her rude demeanor was unwarranted. He had done nothing to defile or insult Cora, and he never would. In fact, he was more of a gentleman than any man in a nice coat and top hat.

Anger consumed him. Cora’s eyes had brightened for an instant as they spoke, and he’d seen the girl she once was peer out from the shell of discontent she’d become. Her mother had quickly ruined it, doused the flame of Cora’s spirit, and for that, she should be punished.

There was nothing he could do about the situation, and that only caused him to feel more worthless. If he had thought of what was best for both of them, he would have simply set Cora on her feet, tipped his hat, and walked away. It would have saved him the last shred of pride he carried, and it would have saved Cora a tongue-lashing.

Miserable now, he waited for the two women to mount the carriage and ride away, and then he crossed the street back to the grocer. He still needed to collect the pennies on his miniscule delivery of carrots and lettuce, which would hopefully buy him a sack of flour. They had been out for days, and the only thing Grace would eat now was a soft biscuit. He had fed her the last one this morning, dipped in honey to ease the tickle in her throat when she swallowed.

She was struggling more now, and as soon as he finished this errand, he had to drum up some work. He could not seem to stay on top of things financially, no matter how much back breaking work he took on, and he absolutely had to get the doctor to see Grace again. She had a sickly pallor, and his teasing about hallucinations no longer amused him, with Grace speaking out of her head with a high fever.

Even in her moments of lucidity, she was not herself, unable to control her tears as she talked about Joseph moving on with his life once she was gone. Joseph did not try to convince himself he would be all right should Grace leave him. His sister was the only family he had now, and he could not fathom being completely alone.

Collecting his small bag of flour and thanking the grocer, Joseph started back toward the shack of a house where he lived, Cora’s lovely smile still on his mind. His mind dredged up the memories of youth, hiding in corn fields and swimming in the pond. Cora had an infectious giggle, and he’d laughed till his sides hurt more often than not.

Now, true laughter was rare. Sure, Harry joked and made him chuckle, but the honest laugh that came from the gut and made it hard to breathe was a thing of the past. He could blame it on circumstances – his parents’ death, his sister’s illness, his mounting responsibilities and feeling stuck in a situation he couldn’t change. But he knew, deep down, that mostly, he missed Cora.

He had a hard time believing she would have fallen in love with him anyway. She would have married up, maybe not into the wealth of Society but certainly out of poverty. But Joseph would have been able to count her among his friends if that had been the case. He didn’t begrudge the Ashtons their wealth now, either. Cora deserved the best of everything. He just hated the distance and separation it demanded.

And he could not bear thinking of Cora being unhappy.

But what did he know? Perhaps she had changed, just as her mother had. It was entirely possible she just had a surly manner about her that didn’t allow for mirth in her dealings with acquaintances. Then again, she had returned to her old self the moment he struck up conversation with her, so he cast that possibility aside almost the moment it came to mind.

What he really needed to do was forget all of it. He could not change anything, and he would only suffer greater pain and resentment if he continued to dwell on the facts of the situation. He had more than enough resting on his shoulders. He did not need to carry the burden of an old friend’s life, especially one he had no part in.

He passed Harry’s place, considering stopping in just for a quick chat to help distract him, but he had already been away from Grace for so long he felt driven to check on her. And he had to manage making the biscuits without her. That was going to take a great deal of concentration and effort, since he had never learned to cook properly. He hoped she at least had enough strength to help direct him so that he wouldn’t burn the blasted things.

Taking a deep breath, Joseph continued on with determined steps, his feet heavy and his mind troubled. He would make the best of this and see if he couldn’t entertain Grace with his antics in the kitchen. Maybe a smile on her flawless face would put one on his.

Chapter 8

“I find it quite ridiculous that I am to sit on the porch of my own home, wearing one of my best and least comfortable dresses and entertaining a gentleman who is already intent on asking for my hand in marriage,” Cora groaned quietly as Edith inspected the periwinkle blue dress to assure it was properly tightened.

Charlie already waited in the parlor, laughing and chatting with her father. Scowling, she said, “They seem to be enjoying each other’s company. Since such decisions will be made without me, why must I be involved at all? Why can I not retire for the evening and stay hidden in my room?”

Edith fluffed the ribbons and feathers in her hair, making Cora feel like some overstuffed turkey being squeezed to death. “It is just how things are done, Miss. And if you find you truly don’t like him, you can speak to your father about it. He’s a good man who loves you and wants you to be happy. He would not force you to wed someone you really did not like.”

Unfortunately, Cora didn’t dislike Charlie. She merely liked him much less than she felt she should care for a husband. She wondered, in fact, if there was anyone she might feel so strongly about, now or in the future. It was hard to ponder such a situation, since she didn’t really know most of the bachelors. She didn’t much care for the older men, and she readily dismissed any thought of getting acquainted with some of the duller, young men.

“I thought the debutante parties were supposed to allow a young lady to meet all her potential suitors before she began to court anyone,” Cora argued. “If I have not met other bachelors, how am I to know another young man would not be a better match?”

Edith stopped fussing and leveled a hard gaze at her. “How do you know another young man would be interested? Or for that matter, wouldn’t hurt you in some way or try to ruin your reputation?” Without waiting for a response, Edith turned her toward the door and gave her a shove. “Go, Miss. Spend some time with Mr. Cantrell and get acquainted with him. It would not be fair to go out there with your mind already set against his courtship or proposal.”

She was right, Cora supposed. Taking small steps because the bodice of the dress restricted her motion, she made her way down the short hall and into the parlor. The moment he saw her, Charlie was on his feet, and her father did the same. Charlie’s eyes sparkled in the glow from the showy, electric chandelier, and his smile practically cracked his jaw from the rest of his skull.

“Cora, you never cease to amaze me with your beauty and charm.” Charlie took her hand and brought it to his lips, bending over it and kissing the back of her knuckles. His lips might have been softer than her own, and Cora wondered, were he to kiss her, if they would mush under too much pressure.

“You are kind, Mr. Cantrell.
Charlie
,” she corrected herself. Turning to her father, she nodded. “Father, will you be joining us?” She so hoped for him to agree. She could find topics of conversation with her father that excited her, but she had no idea if she could find common ground with Charlie.

“No, sweetheart, I won’t. However, you are welcome to stay in the parlor, if you like. It’s begun to rain outside, and I wouldn’t want a stray breeze to blow past and spray you both.” He shook Charlie’s hand and kissed Cora’s cheek as he took his leave, and she was left alone with her suitor. It was awkward, and Cora searched for something to cheer her up.

Her mother! There was a thought. She was at least relieved to not be in the presence of her mother, and it made her smile. “Come, have a seat, Charlie. Tell me about yourself.”

He chuckled, assisting her into her seat before sitting in the chair beside her. “I’m not certain where to begin. I feel like we see each other so often, and yet know so little about each other.” But once he started talking, he didn’t seem to have any trouble. He spoke in a continuous monologue, which suited Cora just fine. It allowed her to pretend she followed along, nodding here and there, frowning where it seemed appropriate, and laughing when he did.

She caught enough to answer any questions her parents asked, and as far as she could tell, Charlie led a rather boring life for someone of such wealth and popularity. She’d had more adventures by the time she was twelve than he seemed to have enjoyed his entire life. And he had to be at least four years Cora’s senior.

When he finally found a stopping point, Cora fought to keep from yawning. “Here I’ve talked for hours it seems, and I have yet to learn anything about you,” he said, ducking his head sheepishly.

Cora didn’t feel like talking, and she wasn’t sure she had anything to tell that would be appropriate. Most of her life had been spent in what he would consider wretched circumstances. Waving a hand in dismissal, she said, “There isn’t much to tell. I played in the dirt a lot as a child. I am an avid reader and I love animals. Otherwise, I’m very simple.”

“I hardly believe that,” he argued.

“Okay, young man!” Cora’s father boomed as he returned, much to her relief. “It’s getting a bit late, but we would love to have you join us for dinner Sunday after church.”

Standing to shake his hand, Charlie nodded. “I would be honored.” He turned to Cora, who was dumbfounded by her father’s offer, and helped her to her feet, again taking her hand in his. This time, however, he drew her forward and placed a light kiss on her cheek. She inhaled sharply, the gesture unexpected. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Cora. Goodnight, and goodnight to you, Mr. Ashton. Give your wife my best as well.”

Cora stood there, stunned, while her father saw Charlie to the door. She wanted to rail at her father, but instead, she quickly slipped out of the parlor and back to her room before she had to face him. She needed to be alone to think things through before she could give her father any sort of impression that didn’t sound overly harsh.

This was miserable, and Cora didn’t know how to make it tolerable, much less get out of it entirely. She rang for Edith, distraught and unable to breathe. She couldn’t think until she could breathe, and she certainly wouldn’t sleep until she had gathered her thoughts.