Promise Me Forever (Debbie Macomber Classics) (20 page)
Read Promise Me Forever (Debbie Macomber Classics) Online
Authors: Debbie Macomber
Joy nearly choked on a french fry. “Oh?”
“Aren’t you interested?”
“I don’t know.” Joy managed to sound offhand and unconcerned, when she was terrified Paul would even mention Sloan’s name.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” he began, “and whatever’s between you and Sloan is none of my business, but something’s got to be done.”
“What do you mean?”
Paul took a swig of beer, and with deliberate casualness placed it back on the table. “I shouldn’t trouble you with this. After all, you were the smart one to get out when you did.”
“Paul!” For the first time, Joy wanted to shake the younger man. “Obviously, there’s something you want me to know. Now, either get it over with or shut up.”
“It’s Whittaker.” Paul sounded uncertain now.
“Well, for heaven’s sake, who else would be causing you any problems?” Joy was quickly losing her patience.
Paul avoided her gaze, fingering the fish. “He’s in a bad way.”
“How do you mean? Did he fall and hurt himself? Why didn’t anyone let me know? Paul, does he need me?” All her concerns rushed out in one giant breath.
“He needs you, all right, but not because of any fall.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wish I knew. Listen, I don’t know what happened last week, but Whittaker hasn’t been the same since he came back from seeing you.”
Joy hadn’t been the same, either. “How’s that?”
“For nearly three weeks he practically killed himself—and me,” Paul added sheepishly, “so that he could walk with the cane. His goal was to come to you. He never said as much, mind you, but it was understood. I don’t know what you said, or what
he
said, for that matter, but Sloan’s been locked up in his room ever since.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. Ask Clara. He shouts and throws things at anyone who comes near him. If you think he was an angry beast when you first came, you should see him now. I think he’s drinking, too.”
“Oh no.” Joy’s shoulders sagged. “Oh Paul, no.”
Joy hardly slept that night. Everything Paul told her seemed to press against her as she tossed and turned fitfully.
Before the sun came up the next morning, she was dressed in the same outfit she wore while working with Sloan. The ride down the highway was accomplished in short order, and she pulled into the long driveway that led to the beach house. Pausing, she looked apprehensively at the closed draperies and prayed that she was doing the right thing.
Clara answered her timid knock and gave a cry of welcome when she saw it was Joy.
“I’m so glad you’ve come.” She hugged Joy briefly and hurried on to explain. “I just didn’t know what to do for Mr. Whittaker anymore. He doesn’t want to see any one. He hardly eats and keeps himself locked up in that room. Not even his father, but he’ll see you, Joy. It’s you Mr. Whittaker needs.”
Joy’s returning hug lacked confidence. “If he thinks I went through months of work so he can lock himself away and sulk, then I’ll tell him differently.”
“That a girl.” Clara patted her across her back. “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Mr. Whittaker will eat now that you’re here.”
“You do that.”
“I’ll fix my best blueberry waffles. I’ll cook some up for you, too.”
Food was the last thing that occupied her thoughts, but Joy gave the old woman an encouraging nod.
Hands knotted at her sides, Joy squared her shoulders and marched down the hall to Sloan’s room. Boldly, she knocked long and hard against his door.
“I said leave me alone.”
After getting the key to Sloan’s room from Clara, Joy unlocked the door and was immediately assaulted with the stale and unpleasant odor of beer. Wrinkling her nose, she proceeded into the room. Dirty clothes littered the floor, the bed was unmade, and the sheets hung off the edges.
In the dim interior, Joy didn’t see Sloan at first. When he spoke, her attention was drawn across the room to the far corner. He sat in the wheelchair, the cane laying on the floor at his side. Two or more days’ growth of beard darkened his face. His normally neatly styled hair was tangled and unruly. Paul hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Sloan was in a bad way.
“What do you want?” The anger was unable to disguise his shock.
Joy didn’t answer him; instead, she walked across the room and pulled open the draperies. Brilliant sunlight chased away the shadows and filled the room with its golden rays.
“Get out of here, Joy.”
“No.” Hands on hips, she whirled around. “What’s the matter with you?”
He didn’t bother to answer. He stood, limped across the room, and closed the draperies. “Wasn’t it you who said if I wanted to keep the draperies closed I’d have to do it myself? I just did. Now get out.”
“Oh no you don’t,” she flared, and jerked the draperies open a second time. Not an inch separated them.
Sloan squinted with the light. “Who the hell let you in here, anyway? They’ll pay with their job when I find out.”
“What’s that doing sitting in here?” She pointed to the wheelchair. “When I left, it was because you would never need that thing again.” Now she was angry, just as angry as Sloan.
“Is that what it takes to bring you back in my life? A wheelchair?”
“No,” she cried. “But I didn’t spend long, hard weeks working with you so that you could sit in the dark.”
“I thought I told you to get out of here. This is my life, and I’ll live it as I please,” he shouted back harshly.
“Not when I’ve invested my time in it, you won’t.”
“I need a beer.” A hand against the side of his head, he looked around the room, carelessly throwing clothes and anything else that impeded the search.
“Alcohol is the last thing you need.”
“Go home, little girl. I don’t want you.”
“Sloan, for heaven’s sake, look at what you’re doing to yourself. This is ridiculous.”
“No more crazy than your coming here. I don’t need your devotion or your pity.”
“Pity?” she nearly choked on the word. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest anything like that.”
“You’ve made your feelings crystal clear,” he told her roughly. “If it isn’t sympathy, what is it?”
Joy pressed her lips together.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
“I … I don’t know why,” she lied, and stalked across the room, arms hugging her waist. He shouted at her again, and she grimaced, not even hearing the words. “All right,” she cried, “you want to know why? I’ll tell you. I didn’t go through the agony of giving you back to the Chantelles of the world so you could waste your life.”
“Have you gone crazy?”
“Yes, I’m nuts, and another week like last one and I’ll be carted off to a mental hospital.” She knew she was being irrational, but she had lost the power to reason. She didn’t know what she’d planned to say when she walked into his room. But nothing was going right, and everything looked so hopeless.
“Joy.” An incredulous note entered his voice. “Do you love me?”
Joy opened her mouth to deny herself again, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“You idiot. You crazy idiot,” he muttered, and pulled her into his arms, his hold strong and sure. He expelled a rush of air and relaxed against her.
Somehow Joy had never heard anything more beautiful.
“Why did you send me away?” His breath stirred the hair at the crown of her head.
She slid her arms around his neck, reveling in the feel of his body close to hers. “I couldn’t let you waste yourself on me because you’re grateful.”
His arms tightened around her. “Grateful.” He spat the word out. “I’ve come to almost hate that word. What does it take to convince you that what I feel is love?”
“Thirty years?” she breathed, and laid her head against his muscular chest.
“That’s not near long enough,” he told her huskily, his hand weaving in the short curls, pressing her to him.
“But, Sloan, how can you love me? I’m not pretty or rich or—”
“Stop,” he interrupted her, almost angry again. “I love you, and I won’t have you saying those things about yourself. When you first came, for all intents and purposes I was crippled. Then I was walking again, and you left. Everything should have been perfect, but I was more of a cripple without you.”
“But I don’t fit in—”
“The only thing that’s going to stop you from arguing with me is kissing you.”
She laughed and nuzzled his neck. “That might work,” she said shakily, and raised her head to meet his descending mouth. Her lips parted under his, and the blood rushed through her veins. No longer did she question if Sloan’s feelings were interwoven with a deep sense of appreciation. He loved her; she knew that now, as intuitively as she had recognized her own feelings.
Possessively, his hands slid over the womanly curves of her rib cage to cup the swelling fullness of her breasts. He shuddered and buried his face in her neck. “You’ll marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.
“Yes,” she breathed in happily. “Yes.”
“Children?”
“As many as you want.”
“My, my, you’re agreeable.”
“All right, no more than ten.”
He rubbed his chin along the top of her head. “You won’t go away if I take a shower and change clothes, will you?”
Her arms curved around the broad expanse of his chest. “Are you kidding? You’ve given
me enough reason to hang around for a lifetime.”
Chuckling, he kissed the top of her nose. “Are you always going to be this stubborn?”
“You’ll find out,” she teased.
“I can hardly wait.”
An hour later, their arms looped around each other’s waists, they slowly sauntered down the flawless beach. Their bare feet made deep indentations in the sand, their footsteps punctuated by Sloan’s cane.
A brisk breeze whipped a curl across Joy’s face. Sloan tucked it around her ear and kissed her hard and deep.
“I love you,” she told him shakily, her voice still affected by his kiss.
“I wondered how long it would take you to say it.”
“I admitted it to myself a long time ago.”
Above, a flock of seagulls circled and let out a loud squawk. Joy paused and shielded her eyes with her hand.
“Sloan,” she whispered in disbelief. “It’s L.J.”
“Honey, there are a thousand birds out here that look exactly like him.”
“He’s up there. That’s him,” she cried, pointing him out for Sloan. Happiness trapped the oxygen in her lungs. “It’s got to be him.”
“Joy.” Sloan arched both brows.
Her attention was directed to the flock of birds that flew down the beach. Only one stayed behind, landing a few feet away.
“It is him,” she whispered.
“You didn’t tell me I would be forced to fight off flocks of admirers,” Sloan teased, with a smile of intense satisfaction.
L.J. quirked his head as if to say he didn’t have time to chat, spread his wings, and flew back to his friends.
“He just stopped by to say hello,” Joy murmured happily.
“And I,” Sloan whispered, pulling her into his arms, “have come to stay a lifetime.”
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