On Blue Falls Pond (18 page)

“It was the furnace, Glory. There’s no need to try to remember that night.” Even as he said it, she could see something shuttered in his gaze, as if he needed to put some mental space between himself and those words.

Then he asked, as if he couldn’t help himself, “Did that kick anything loose?”

She shook her head. “But last time the memory came later.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be alone when the memory comes,” he said quietly.

She gave a sharp laugh. “I’m never alone—not since I got back here.” Then what he said actually sank in. Her spine tingled, and she sharpened her gaze on him. “Why shouldn’t I be alone?”

“It was the most traumatic event in your life, and you don’t remember it. It’s going to . . . hurt.” He took her hand.

She had to admit she was relieved. For the briefest second, she’d worried that he was insinuating there was something sinister hidden in that memory. She relaxed more as he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.

“Maybe it’s the opposite,” she said. “Maybe I need to be alone for everything to become clear again.”

“Weren’t you alone while you were away?”

“Oh, yeah, I was alone all right.” Until this moment she hadn’t allowed herself to realize how isolated and lonely she’d been. It felt so good to sit, holding hands and
sharing
with him. “But I now have to admit, my goal at the time was
not
to remember.”

“And now you want to because of those notes.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t an accusation.

She drew a deep breath. “Well, it seems it would be good to be able to answer with something more concrete than ‘I don’t remember.’ It’s very unsettling.”

“Do you think you’ll be called to answer? You said it was a kid’s prank.” His tone said that he believed no such thing.

“Well, of course it is!” she was quick to respond. “It just made me start thinking is all. And now that I’m back here, I feel . . .” She lifted a shoulder.

“You feel what?” he asked softly.

With a slight shake of her head, she set her beer on the table and said, “I feel like I
need
to remember.” She paused and lowered her voice as she twisted to face him on the couch, tucking one leg underneath her. “I feel like maybe I can stand it now.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Maybe I can stand it if you help me.”

Eric looked deep into those incredible green eyes and knew what that admission had cost her. Her cheeks flushed slightly. Something shifted inside his chest; she was reaching out to
him
. After two weeks without her, he clearly understood how much her nearness meant to him, how lonely he was without their budding friendship. She wanted his help. She trusted him enough for that.

Happiness warmed his soul, and he realized how long it had been since he’d felt this way—blessed with a moment of simple and pure happiness.

And he realized just how much he needed her, too.

Only the specter of past truths lay between them. But Eric wasn’t sure what those truths held. It would be best for him if Glory never remembered the events of that night. Still, did he want to walk on eggshells every day with the fear that she’d remember, and his own credibility would be called into question?

Why was it that the one person he was most drawn to held the most potential for disaster? If Andrew
had
pushed her to extreme measures to protect herself, what would happen if she did remember?

She continued to look into his eyes, tempting him to act on an impulse he might regret. He didn’t want to scare her off now, not after she’d found the courage to ask for help. But she sat there with the fingers of her right hand entwined with those of his left and her lips slightly parted, wearing that little tank top that left nothing to the imagination—oh yes, he was tempted. It had been so long since he’d felt the stir of desire for a woman. But Glory had come to him needing a friend, and that’s what he would give her.

He set his beer beside hers, then slowly reached out with his right hand and stroked her hair, running his finger along the strands that lay upon her cheek. He’d meant it only as a comfort—at least he told himself that as she turned her head slightly and kissed his palm.

Instead of pulling his hand gently away as he should have, he closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of her lips on his skin, of the soft brush of her exhalations against his palm. A little tremor began there and coursed up the length of his arm and shot straight to his heart.

They were at a crossroads. He knew the honorable thing to do was withdraw. But damn, she had his heart racing and heat pooling uncomfortably in his loins. So he kept his hand there until the moment for retreat had passed. She covered his hand with her own, drawing it lower until it rested on her collarbone. Her skin was hot under his touch, and he felt her rapid heartbeat at the base of her throat.

As he looked into her eyes, he saw a glimmer of uncertainty, of longing and vulnerability that took his breath away. He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting any woman.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat. Gently he allowed his lips to skim, to savor the racing of her pulse.

Then she threw her head back, offering more of herself, drawing him closer with her hand behind his neck.

He kissed her throat, her cheeks, finally finding the sweetness of her mouth. And as she traced her tongue along his lower lip, he forgot all about friendship and comfort and he reached for her, swinging her around until she sat in his lap.

Her arms went around his neck, and a beautiful little moan came from deep in her throat as he engaged fully in the kiss.

One hand traveled through her hair, cupping the back of her head. He’d wanted to bury his fingers in her hair from the moment she’d collapsed in his arms that morning in Tula’s kitchen. It was just as he imagined—russet silk, heavy and cool and smooth. His other hand slid around her back, finding the exposed place between her tank top and pants. Her skin was surprisingly hot and not-so-surprisingly soft. He let himself sink into the sensation of the kiss, of her nearness, of her eager response.

There was only the briefest glimmer of conscience that told him he shouldn’t do this—that it was selfish. But then she pressed herself against him and opened her mouth fully, and all conscious thought vanished. There was only this beautiful, prideful, wounded woman in his arms and the knowledge he could take away all of her pain, at least for a little while.

There was a certain desperation in the way they clung to one another, even in his aroused state he was aware of it. But like a drowning man grasping a bit of flotsam, he could no more let her go than he could walk on water.

She moved her lips only a breath away as she grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head. Her hands on his chest shot new urgency through his veins. He slid his hands under her tank top, feeling the long, lean lines of her back.

Her mouth moved down his neck, trailing kisses that left a blaze of heat. As she moved lower, his hands slid into her hair once again, his fingers twisting the length, and his breath caught in his belly. He didn’t breathe at all as she nipped and teased his chest. When he finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his mouth formed words the words that his mind had been holding back, “Oh God, you’re so beautiful.”

She lifted her head and looked from under her brows. Her dark hair fell over her face, looking wildly sexy. But it was her grin that was his undoing.

He grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it off. She didn’t give him enough time to savor her loveliness before she pressed their bodies together and kissed him.

Leaning backward, she pulled him with her, until he was half on top of her as they lay on the couch. It was his turn to explore, and he took his time, learning her body as she had learned his. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he suckled her breast.

Then, her quivering whisper, “Eric, I want you inside me,” brought him halfway to his senses. He raised up and looked into her eyes, now smoldering and half-closed with passion. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her—not the kiss of hunger he wanted to give her, but one of tenderness.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know how much I want it too.” He rested his forehead against hers.

She grinned again. “Then we’re in agreement.” Her insistent fingers pressing his backside as she squirmed against him threatened to rip away his thin hold on his control.

He buried his face in the sofa. Despite his effort not to, he groaned. “Glory, you came here looking for a friend. I shou—”

He was stunned when she grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of his head and lifted his head up so she could see his face. “I came here looking for
you
. I came here wanting this . . .” Her kiss was one of driving need and desire that broke through all of the barriers he’d tried to erect.

He was lost—and yet found; rescued by the caring of a woman who needed more than he could give.

For one horrifying instant Glory thought he would refuse her. Taking the lead in asking for sex was out of her depth. She was afraid she’d ruined everything when he pulled slightly away from her kiss. Holding her breath, she looked into his eyes. He almost looked as if he were in physical pain.

Then she kissed him, pouring all of herself into that silent plea.

When his lips trailed down her neck she whispered against his ear, “Please, Eric, I need to be close. I need to be close to you.”

It was as if those whispered words had held the key. She felt his resistance dissolve as his hands—those strong, capable rescuer’s hands—moved fluidly over her body. Soon they’d shed the rest of their clothes.

He tempted and teased, coveted and caressed, making her feel worshiped and alive for the first time in a very long time. Her skin vibrated beneath his touch, fiery sparks springing forth wherever he trailed his fingers.

And then, just before he joined their bodies, he stopped, framing her face with his hands, and asked, “Are you sure, Glory?”

There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her, he was trembling with need, his breath quivering in his efforts to restrain himself. She slid her hand between them and guided him home. “Yes.” And her body reached for his, welcoming the feeling of fullness, of belonging.

Through clenched teeth he said her name as he carried the rest of the world away on the rhythm of their bodies.

Chapter Sixteen

G
LORY LAY WITH
Eric curled against her back as their sweat-soaked bodies began to cool, listening to the steady thud of her heart as it slowed back to a normal rhythm. With her eyes closed she concentrated on the sound,
lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub
. She drifted with the primal sound, her body feeling light and relaxed. She was vaguely aware of Eric’s hand wrapped around her middle.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub
.

The sound echoed through her sleep-hazed mind, taking her back—back to the day she first heard the heartbeat of her unborn child. She remembered how she’d strained to separate the swishing beat of umbilical blood from that of her child’s tiny heart. The instant she’d heard it, she couldn’t understand how she could have had trouble picking out the separate sound of the life growing within from her own life’s blood.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub
.

Eric drew her body closer to his with a breathy sigh and wound his fingers through hers. Their entwined hands rested over her womb. She pressed Eric’s hand against her belly, remembering the life that once grew there.

The feeling of comfort and security that Eric had so unconsciously provided was what she’d longed for all of those terrible weeks with Andrew. If only he’d drawn her close in protection of the life growing within her body. But Andrew had pushed her away. Those had been the loneliest weeks of her life.

Why couldn’t Andrew have been a father like Eric, a man so devoted that nothing would stop him from doing what was best for his child?

A darkness lurked in the back of Glory’s mind; it wasn’t much more than a sinister tingle. There was something there, something unsettling that she just couldn’t bring into focus.

What could it be? She’d already remembered that Andrew had been angry about the baby. But by the time of the fire, he’d gotten past that . . . hadn’t he? Of course he had. She’d been more than six months along.

Dark, slithery whispers moved in the depths of her mind, but she could not make their meaning clear. She reached out in desperation. The only thing that solidified in her mind was a sense of fear—of what, she could not say.

She shivered, and Eric responded by holding her more tightly.

Suddenly all she wanted was Eric’s touch. She didn’t want to see what was lurking in the dark corners of her mind. She tried to cast away thoughts of Andrew and anger and loss. This moment was a new beginning for her; she would work on the past later, when she was alone.

She roused contentedly and turned to face Eric. His eyes remained closed and his breathing steady. He slung one leg over her thigh and inched her closer. Glory kissed his chin, the ache of finding hope again after all these dark months threatening to burst her chest.

His eyes opened. A faint smile curved his lips. He snugged her closer with his leg and caressed her cheek. “You all right?”

Unable to trust her voice, she smiled and nodded.

Pulling her close, he kissed her forehead. “Liar.” He wrapped his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just have some things to sort out.”

“Glory, I don’t want to make things harder for you. I shouldn’t have let things get so out of hand.”

She shook her head, a quick, jerky motion. “It’s got nothing to do with you . . . us. I wanted this; it doesn’t have to make things complicated. It’s just . . . this is the first time since—”

His arms tightened around her. “Shhh.”

They lay in silence for a while. Glory felt herself begin to relax, comfortable in his arms, and he seemed as content in the quiet as she.

Just when she thought he’d drifted back to sleep, he said, “Jill agreed to take Scott to a specialist.”

Obviously, Eric had been dealing with his own tormented thoughts. It seemed odd, they’d just shared the most intimate act two people could share, and yet they’d both been transported back to problems that had nothing to do with each other. Glory nearly silenced him with a kiss, forcing him to take her back to that place where only the two of them existed. But she knew he needed a friend as much as she did.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” she said.

She felt him nod, his chin bumping the top of her head. “But I think she still believes he’s going to tell her what she wants to hear; that Scott’s development is slow but in the range of normal.”

After a moment’s hesitation, where Glory weighed how far she wanted to step into Eric’s relationship with his child, she said, “I don’t believe he is—in the range of normal. I agree with you, something isn’t right. Do you think there’s anything the doctors will be able to do to help him?”

“I have to believe there is. The first step is to figure out exactly what’s wrong. Whatever needs to be done”—he’d been tracing his fingers along her spine, now his hand stilled—“it’s going to be important that Jill and I work together.”

Something in his voice made Glory’s skin prickle. “You don’t think I’d interfere with that?”

“I just want to be honest with you.”

She raised up and looked at him. “It’s not like we’re—”

He touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t. I’m not sure what we are, but there’s something between us. It’s not something I expected, especially right now, but Glory, it’s special. I know you feel it too.”

She nearly told him what she feared: that she was a wreck of a woman and he—hero that he was cut out to be—couldn’t help but want to save her. She did feel a special connection to him, but was it simply because she wanted to be rescued?

He shattered her doubts when he kissed her.

When he stopped, she took a deep breath, and said, “We don’t have to name it. Let’s just see where this goes.”

He kissed her again. “Fair enough.”

“I’d better be getting back to Granny’s. She has an early doctor appointment in the morning.” She suddenly felt shy as she sat up on the couch and gathered up the clothes that they’d scattered so heedlessly.

Eric found her tank top and turned it right side out, then slid it over her head, showing as much loving interest in dressing her as he had in removing her clothes. His hands were gentle, and he kissed her shoulder as he smoothed the straps in place. If she didn’t guard her heart, she’d find herself falling into the deep end for him.

We hardly know each other.
Even as she had the thought, she knew in her heart that it was wrong. They hadn’t spent much time together, true, but they understood each other in ways that went beyond the few hours spent in one another’s company. They knew each other’s heaviest burdens. Of course, that was probably what made Eric so intensely interested in her—her burdens and her need drew him like the moon pulled the tides. It wasn’t pity exactly, but it certainly wasn’t a good basis for a solid relationship.

She decided to take it for what it was—comfort at the moment—and do her best to guard her heart.

After getting dressed and sliding her feet into her flip-flops, she stood, but didn’t look at him. “Good night, Eric.”

As she started to move away, he grasped her hand and pulled her back into his lap. He had his jeans on, but his T-shirt was still on the floor. Glory tried not to lean against his bare chest and kept her gaze on the door.

“Look at me, Glory.”

Reluctantly, she did. She didn’t want to be pulled back into the depths of those whiskey eyes.

He kissed her gently. “Don’t lock me out again.”

Her heart did a slow roll in her chest. The intensity of her reaction rocked her to the marrow of her bones. She was in much more danger of losing her heart than she’d thought. “I have to go.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes that might have been disappointment, but she got up and didn’t study it too closely for fear of her own response.

Against her protests, Eric walked her to her car. Before he closed the door he leaned in and kissed her again. Then he looked at her seriously, his eyes dark in the dim glow of the car’s interior lights. “Just so you know,” he said softly, “this was the first time for me too . . . since . . .”

Before she could respond, he withdrew from the car and closed the door.

As she drove away, she looked in the rearview mirror and saw him as a silhouette against the wide fan of yellow light from the streetlamp behind him. He had his hands in his pockets and was making no move toward his house.

Hours later, Glory lay in bed in the lavender floral room at Granny’s, drifting on contentment. She recalled the weight of Eric’s warm hand over her abdomen. That time of safe intimacy had been even more precious to her than their lovemaking. Holding that feeling close to her heart, she relaxed into sleep.

Just as she released the last threads that bound her to awareness, an image exploded in her mind. Andrew’s face was nose to nose with hers. His brows were drawn in anger, his lips pulled back in a grimace as he shouted at her in a wild, guttural tone. The tone was frightening enough, but it was the words that came from his mouth that slammed her back into wakefulness.

“My decision is final. You
will
get that abortion!”

Glory sat up in bed, gasping, every nerve in her body buzzing. It had to be real. It had to be a memory. It was too powerful even for a nightmare.

She raised a trembling hand to her throat. “Oh, my God.” As the words rode out on her breath, the rest of that confrontation stepped out from behind the curtain that had been hiding it for over two years. What was revealed was so ugly, it was no wonder she had blocked it from her mind.

Closing her eyes, she let it come:

Her back was pressed against the kitchen counter. She leaned as far away from Andrew’s angry aggression as physically possible. Her mind kept screaming,
This can’t be. He can’t possibly mean this.

But it was blindingly clear, he meant every harsh word he spit in her face.

When he’d first mentioned an abortion, she hadn’t reacted, certain that once he came to himself he’d realize what a preposterous suggestion it was.

She found her voice. “You said you’d think it over. You can’t really want this!” She’d been so sure that once the shock wore off, he’d be happy, or at the very least nervous and accepting. Never did she think he would continue on this path.

“I did think it over.” His face hardened, negating any relief she might have felt with his slight retreat from looming over her. “Do you think I really believe it was an accident? You tricked me.” She shook her head and tried to deny it, but he kept on talking. “You never should have gotten pregnant in the first place. It’s your fault—you put us in this position. Get rid of it.”

“This is a child! Your flesh and blood!” She reached for his arm, but he jerked it away. “Please, Andrew, just give it some more time. You’ll get over the shock—”

“I’ve already made the arrangements.” His voice was flat and cold, as if his anger had burned every bit of humanity from his soul.

“What!” She shook her head vehemently. “I won’t go. I will not do this. If you don’t want this child, I’ll have it alone. But I’m not getting an abortion.”

He grabbed her by both arms and hauled her against his chest. His fingers dug painfully into her flesh. “You will not ruin my life! You’re my wife. You can’t just walk out like I don’t exist.”

Glory drew her strength from the fact that the tiny life inside her depended upon her. She stopped cowering and straightened her back. “I have put up with your need to ‘wear the pants in this family,’ with your constant questioning of my whereabouts, with your unfounded jealousy. Every time you’ve asked for a compromise for the sake of our marriage, I’ve made it. Now I’m asking you to accept the child we created together—a part of our family.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“What will your parents think if I get an abortion? You’re their only child—this is their grandchild!”

His steely expression softened momentarily. Glory grabbed on to the hope that she’d finally found a way to make him understand the gravity of what he was asking.

He killed that hope in his next breath. “They won’t think anything because they’re not going to know.”

Glory swallowed dryly. “It’s too late. I told your mother this afternoon.”

“Glory!” Granny’s voice came from the hall, accompanied by the sound of her hurrying feet. “Are you all right?”

Glory gulped in a great draft of air, trying to calm her nausea and slow her rapid breathing. It didn’t help.

Just as Granny opened the bedroom door, Glory bolted from the bed and ran to the bathroom. She managed to hold back being sick until she reached the toilet.

After rinsing her mouth out and splashing her face with cold water, she slowly walked back to her bedroom, feeling drained and shaky.

Granny had switched on the bedside lamp and was sitting on the edge of the bed. She’d straightened and smoothed the tangled covers and fluffed Glory’s pillow.

“Sorry, Gran. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Glory’s voice trembled with the quaking that still rocked her insides.

Granny patted the sheets. “Come on and get back in bed.” Glory did, and Granny tucked her in as if she were a small child again. “You didn’t wake me. I just snapped awake, like someone doused me with a bucket of cold water, and I knew somethin’ was terrible wrong.”

Granny touched Glory’s forehead with a cool dry hand. “No fever. Your hair’s wet with sweat, though. Maybe it’s passed. Summer flu’s quick like that.”

For a long moment, Glory was silent. Granny had been urging her to face the past—how much of that past was Granny aware of?

Granny said, “’Member how, back when you and your mama lived in that trailer in town, I always knew when you were sick? I’d just get this feelin’ and call your mama—sure ’nough I’d be right.”

“It’s not the flu.”

Granny’s gaze sharpened. “Feared it wasn’t. Felt too strong for just sick.”

After drawing a quivering breath, Glory rested her hand on her forehead and closed her eyes again. That confession to her mother-in-law had saved her baby’s life . . . at least for a while.

Just how bad had things been between her and Andrew those last months? She searched her memory for feelings as well as events. There had been a space of relative calm after that horrible day, she knew that. She’d prepared the nursery; Andrew had even gone shopping with her. Those memories had always stayed with her. Granny had been right, she’d only remembered the good.