Unconventional Series Collection (21 page)

"Angel, sweetheart! Stop running before you
get hurt!"

Sobbing, she cried, "Why did you do this to
me? Why did you make me witness Abby's sorrow?"

"Honey, yes, there's sorrow, but there's
also healing. By Abby expressing herself, she heals. It's the same for all of
us."

"No! It's not. You don't understand."

"What don't I understand my sweet
angel?"

With a heart wrenching cry, she said, "Both
my babies died and I don't want to remember. I want to forget. You've made me
remember and I hate you for that!" Jerking her arm out of Luke's grasp,
she tried to turn and run again, but her feet wouldn't move. Tears streamed and
then she did something by instinct. She threw herself against Luke, grabbed his
shirt, and buried her face in his chest. Guttural sounds escaped, but she
couldn't stop them. Strong arms encircled her and pulled her close. Clutching
his shirt, she sought to step into his skin. She craved his strength, his
closeness, his compassion. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her mouth to his,
kissing him and sobbing at the same time. He could make her forget. Circling
his neck with her arms, overwhelming desire filled her with a passion she had
never experienced. Suddenly, Luke lifted her into his arms and carried her
further into the woods before gently lowering her onto soft grass beneath a
tree. She heard him whisper, "Angel, Angel, Angel." Placing her mouth
on his, his unique taste was her undoing, and she grabbed fistfuls of his hair,
exploring his sweet mouth and allowing him to explore hers. Their kisses knew
no limits and when she gasped for breath, she cried, "Make me forget them,
Luke."

* * *

Luke thought he might drown in the love and
tenderness he felt for Angel and wanted to kiss her forever, but when she
begged him to make her forget the past, he broke away and placed his forehead
against hers. "Angel, sweetheart, listen to me. Forgetting will not make
things better. I know that for a fact. Talk to me. Remember so you can
heal."

Angel pushed against his chest, tears flooding
her eyes. "I don't want to remember!" She jumped to her feet and
turned to flee, but Luke was fast and caught her, holding her against him,
imprisoning her arms.

"Tell me," he repeated gently against
her ear.

In a last burst of energy she tried to break
free, but he held her strong. She collapsed against him and sobbed. "My
little girl died because my husband wouldn't go for the doctor. She was only
three," she wailed. "When I tried to stab the evil man after her
death, he only laughed and hit me. I was pregnant with another child. The
beating caused a miscarriage."

Great wails erupted from Angel and Luke died a
million deaths at the pitiful sound. When Angel's legs collapsed, he lowered
her to the ground and held her against him. After a time, her wails quieted and
she said softly, "But the wicked man died in the end. He caught the same
disease, and when he begged me to go for the doctor, I refused. I watched him
die and I was glad."

Luke closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek
against his wife's hair. She whispered, "I'm no better than him. I watched
him suffer and refused to help. I buried them all and wished I'd died with
them."

Luke smoothed his hand over his wife's hair and
stroked her back over and over. "No, Angel. If you had died I wouldn't be
holding you now. I lo–"

Angel pushed away from him and covered his mouth
with her hand. "No, don't say anything more." Lying back against his
chest, she seemed to relax, and Luke thought she had fallen asleep until she
began reminiscing. He listened and encouraged her to continue whenever she
faltered. He laughed when she laughed and he cried when she cried. Finally, his
angel slept in his arms. Laying her down, he stretched out beside her and
watched her sleep until his own eyes closed in emotional exhaustion.

* * *

Angel snuggled closer to radiating warmth. She
felt languid and almost happy. She hadn't known happiness for years and she
jerked her eyes open. Her face was mashed against a firm chest and her arms
encircled a man's waist. His arms were wrapped just as tightly around her and
she could hear his even breathing in sleep. In a rush, visions of gravestones
popped into her mind, followed by her flight into the woods. She inhaled
sharply when she remembered passionate kisses with Luke. Then she heard herself
revealing the death of her daughter, her miscarriage, and finally the
confession of her sin in doing nothing to help her dying husband.

Luke shifted and lifted his body above hers and
studied her face. After their initial eye contact, she couldn't bring herself
to meet his gaze again.

He reached to brush hair out of her eyes.
"Thank you for confiding in me."

She turned her head aside. "So now you know
me for the uncaring person that I am."

Gently, Luke lifted her chin and turned her face
back to his. "Look at me, Angel."

Unable to resist his command, she lifted her
lashes until she met his blue gaze.

He said, "You are an amazing woman that I
admire more than any woman I have ever met."

Angel's eyes rounded, "How can you say that
after what I just told you?"

"What you shared was a young woman, barely
more than a child herself, thrust into hellish circumstances no woman should
have to live through. You showed me a woman who survived in spite of
that."

"But I didn't help him."

"Angel, you had just lost two children. How
could you even think under those circumstances? The fact that you still feel
guilt after what was done to you shows me the caring person that you are.
Honey, your husband chose his path and its time for you to release him from
your heart and mind. You cannot change the past, but you can choose your
future." He paused to dip his head and lightly kiss her. "And I want
you to choose a future with me."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean I want to stay married to you. I
want us to become a real family. I want–"

"No!" Angel pushed away from him.

"Angel, I know how much your bakery in San
Francisco means to you, but I'll build you one here. The folks in Two Rivers
would love a bakery."

Angel jumped to her feet. "No! There's no
way I'll ever stay married to you. I-I want to leave in a week for San
Francisco like you promised!"

Luke stood. "Okay, Angel. I can see your
mind is made up. I think you're making a mistake. I think we could be very
happy and I could give you more children."

"No! Don't say anything more. I don't want
a family."

"I think you do, but you've convinced
yourself you don't deserve happiness."

"You don't know me. You don't know the
things I've done. You've only heard a few years of my life. I'm not a good
person and I don't deserve happiness. But I will find contentment in my
bakery."

Slowly, Luke released a breath. "The trail
back to the house is this way."

By the time they reached Luke's parents' house,
dusk was edging out the light. Because Angel refused to enter the house, Luke
lifted her onto the buckboard and then stepped into the cabin to bid his family
goodbye. Angel didn't know what he said to explain her strange behavior, but
Abby and the boys stepped onto the porch and watched them pull away from the
house, waving goodbye and wearing sad faces.

Over the next few days, Angel remained mostly in
her bedroom. To pass the time, she borrowed books from Luke's library when he wasn't
around. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about their encounter and
often closed her eyes, reliving his sweet kisses. She even found herself
occasionally allowing fond memories of her daughter to surface.

A week after the grave incident, there was a
knock on her bedroom door and Angel expected it to be Luke. She was shocked to
see Abby and it must have shown in her expression.

Abby said, "Goodness, I hope its okay that
I stopped by to see you."

"Of course it is. Please come in and sit
down." Angel motioned to the desk chair.

Abby ignored the chair and went to sit on the
side of the bed, patting the spot next to her. "You sit, too, so we can
chat."

Angel sat next to Abby.

Abby said, "I've sensed that you and Luke
haven't disclosed everything about your marriage, and since you're staying in
separate bedrooms, I guess my intuition was right."

Angel said, "I can explain–"

Abby interrupted, "No, dear, there's no
need. Luke will explain when he feels the time is right. I just wanted to come
by and see how you're doing. You were very upset the day we visited the
graves."

Angel felt embarrassed about her behavior and
attempted to apologize. "I-I want to tell you how sorry I am about
spoiling your family tradition."

Abby patted her hand. "No apology necessary.
That site has seen its share of sorrow and joy. Did Luke ever tell you about
the butterflies?"

"You know, when we first arrived and were
riding out to your place, two butterflies stayed with us for quite some time.
One landed on Luke and the other on me. He mentioned something about
butterflies, but didn't elaborate."

A wondrous expression lit Abby's face. Then she
said, "I'll share the butterfly story."

Angel leaned forward, intrigued by the mystery.

Abby smiled. "I don't know how much Luke
told you about Ty, his baby brother, but even though I did not birth him, I
could not have loved him more if I had. He gave me indescribable joy and when
he died, I wanted to die with him. I even ran away, thinking it would be best
for Brant and the children. To make a long story short, Brant came after me,
and it was his love that saved me. It took awhile before I was ready to return
home from the friends' house I was staying at, but when I did, I wasn't sure
how Luke and Jenny would feel about me. After all, I was the mother, and when I
couldn't cope with Ty's death, I abandoned them."

Angel said, "But you were grieving. You
shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"Yes, of course, you're right. It took some
time, but I finally forgave myself and realized Luke and Jenny held nothing
against me. The day of our reunion is one of the happiest of my life." A
faraway look passed over Abby's face before she said, "Goodness, I was
going to share the butterfly story. Anyway, the year we made our first trek to
the graves as a family, Brant asked the children to bring something special
with them to share. Of course, the idea of talking to dead people is a concept
quite foreign to most people, but our family has made it a yearly tradition.
For the first year after Ty's death, I often went to his grave to talk with
him. I can't explain why, but it helped me tremendously." Abby grinned.
"There I go getting off the subject again. Back to the butterflies—so, at
our first gathering, Jenny brought a picture she had drawn. After we finished
sharing our thoughts and turned to leave, two butterflies danced around the
gravestones before landing on them—a butterfly on each stone. When Jenny saw
them, she grabbed her picture and said, 'Look, there they are.' When we looked
at her drawing we were amazed that the butterflies looked exactly like the ones
she had drawn and had alighted in the exact same locations on the stones. It
was a wonderful surprise and filled a sad event with joy. Since then, two
butterflies often fly around us during momentous occasions; such as the birth
of both my children, the groundbreaking for Luke's home, Jenny leaving for art
school, and sometimes, but not always, during our yearly visits to the graves.
And now, you've just told me that the butterflies showed up for your arrival in
Two Rivers. I can't wait to share that with Brant."

Angel was at a loss as to how she should comment
and Abby seemed to understand. After a moment's hesitation, Abby said,
"Honey, I know there are things you don't want to talk about—sad things in
your life—I can see it in your eyes. But I want you to know I'm always
available if you want to talk. I've experienced the depths of sorrow and the
tough road back to the land of the living."

Angel turned her head to the side and fingered a
tear. "Thank you," she whispered. "I-I just can't talk about
it."

Abby patted her hand. "I understand more
than you realize. I just came by today to let you know you're loved and I'm
here for you, as are Brant and Luke."

Angel sniffed and wiped her nose. "Thank
you."

Abby gave her hand one last pat and then rose.
"I best be on my way. I don't like leaving Brant too long, but I have a
tendency to hover and I know he needs his space."

Angel walked Abby to the door and in a
spontaneous gesture, hugged her. Abby returned her hug and said softly,
"Luke's just the man for you and you're the perfect woman for him."
Before Angel could react, Abby closed the door.

Late that night Angel lay in bed staring at her
ceiling and tossing restlessly. Luke had told her only that morning that they
would be leaving for California in two days. She should be elated, but she
wasn't. The Samson family had planted themselves in her heart and try as she
might to deny it, she hated leaving them.

Rising, she stood by her window and stared at a
half moon. After a time, she felt the need to do something,
anything.
Lighting
her oil lamp and grabbing a handful of books, she quietly slipped from her room
and padded in bare feet to the library to return them. Slipping each book back
into place, she brushed at a tear. Even the library had become dear to her, its
smell of books and leather and oak furniture comforting. A book on an upper
shelf caught her attention and she stretched to pull it from its place. Maybe
if she read when she returned to bed it would help her fall asleep. When she
turned to leave, shifting the book to her other hand, a folded paper slipped
out and opened. Bending to retrieve the crisp stationary she recognized as
Luke's, she was about to place it back in the book when her eyes were drawn to
a name—Dawson Jeffries. There was also a date on the letter. It was several
years old. Feeling like a snoop, but wanting to know why her favorite author's
name was on the paper, she read the contents.

Dear Mr. Carthage,

I am ecstatic that you enjoyed the draft of my latest
story and want to serialize it in your paper. I must say, I am very surprised
by the overwhelming response to my writings and it is because of that response
I have decided to continue under a pen name—Dawson Jeffries.

I must confide that initially I enjoyed the
prestige afforded me when I wrote under my own name, but that soon wore off. I
desire a simple life and find that

Although unfinished, Angel recognized Luke's
handwriting.
Luke
was Dawson Jeffries! She dropped the paper like it had
scalded her fingers.

A noise made her jerk her head upward and she
saw Luke standing in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked, and
glanced at the stationary on the floor.

Angel blinked, unable to respond while her mind
wrapped itself around her discovery.

Frowning, Luke hastened to pick up the paper.
After he glanced at it, he said, "I guess my secret is out."

The humorous tone in his voice incensed Angel.
"How could you not tell me when I told you how much I enjoy Dawson
Jeffries' writings and I even read the latest installment to you?" Before
he could respond, she forged on. "I bared my soul to you the other day and
you kept something like this from me. How dare you! You're just like every
other man in my life—a liar!"

"I am not a liar, Angel. I simply saw no
reason to tell you."

His words, spoken quietly, hurt Angel deeply.
Although she knew there was really no reason he should have confided his
secret, she couldn't help her reaction. Years of mistreatment from men finally
erupted and she launched herself at him, pummeling his chest. "I hate you!
I hate all men! They lie and hurt me for their own pleasure! I hate you!"

"Angel, stop! You don't know what you're
saying!"

"I do! I do!" Reaching her arm back,
she slapped his cheek as hard as she could, the impact stinging her hand.
Suddenly aware of what she had done, she gasped and stared at the reddening
handprint on his face. He didn't move, and neither did she until reason
reasserted itself. She cried, "Oh, Luke," and covered her mouth with
her hand.

"Angel, I think you should return to
bed."

She wanted him to chastise her, even strike her
like other men had done, but he merely remained still, staring sadly at her.

Unable to bear the tension or her longing for
this man, something she fought daily, she didn't think; she merely reacted like
she had done that day in the forest. With a cry, she threw her arms around him
and covered his mouth with hers. Her hunger was insatiable and after his
initial surprise, he responded with instant ardor. Groaning, he wrapped his
arms around her and then lifted his hands to her head, repositioning her mouth
roughly against his, matching and surpassing her passion. His tongue mated with
hers and she grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into solid muscle.
Instead of the kisses gentling, they became feverish. After a long time, Angel
moved her mouth to the red mark on his cheek, kissing it repeatedly and
whispering over and over, "Forgive me. Please forgive me."

Instead of responding, Luke captured her mouth
again and then Angel felt herself being lifted into his arms. Keeping her lips
on his, she didn't care where he was taking her. She wasn't capable of rational
thought, only sensation, and beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew she loved this
compassionate young man.

* * *

Luke lowered Angel to his bed, his heart full of
love for his broken wife. Never had he wanted any woman as much as he wanted
her. She clung to him, still covering his mouth with heated kisses. She was
driving him crazy and if he didn't slow her down he wouldn't be able to keep
himself from shattering before consummating their marriage.

"Angel," he whispered, lifting his
mouth slightly. She followed his mouth with hers and his heart thrilled at her
desire for him. He tried again, raising his mouth a fraction above hers.
"Angel, love, listen to me." That seemed to get her attention and her
little pants sent puffs of air into his mouth. "I don't want you to move.
Will you humor me?"

"I-I don't understand."

"Shh. You will soon. Don't move,
okay?"

She nodded and when he touched his lips to hers,
she leaned into him, kissing him again. He chuckled and lifted his lips
slightly. "Don't move, baby." He moved his mouth to her ear and
whispered, "Stay perfectly still." When he grazed her cheek with his
lips, she moaned but didn't move. Next, he kissed her eyes and nose and she lay
still in his arms. Returning his mouth to her ear, he said, "I'm going to
slip my hands under your nightgown. I want to touch you. May I?"

Angel squirmed beneath him. "Oh, yes. Do it
now."

Luke almost lost it and wanted to crush his
mouth over hers, but he knew he had to be gentle with Angel because of her past
experiences. Slowly, he reached his hand to her bare foot and caressed it
before gliding his palm up her calf and then to her thigh. When he reached her
bare hip, he groaned and lightly nipped her lips. Moving his hand to the
outside of her breast, he heard her gasp and paused in his exploration, kissing
her tenderly until he felt she was ready for more. When he covered her breast,
she said, "Touch me everywhere, Luke."

Her sweet words released so much love from his
heart that he could do nothing but tell her over and over how much he loved
her—how he had loved her from the first moment he'd seen her—how sorry he was
that he hadn't told her who he was.

When she responded with, "Luke, I've tried
not to, but I love you so much I want to be your wife," he lifted off her
and removed his clothing, never removing his eyes from her closed ones. When he
was naked, he sank back onto the bed. Holding himself above her, he whispered
in her ear, "I want to remove your gown." Gently, he fingered the
button at her neck. With her hair spilling across his pillow, its blackness
shining even in the dim light of the moon trickling through the window, he
began unbuttoning tiny pearl buttons.

* * *

Angel could barely breathe. Luke's hands and
kisses and sweet words captured her very soul. The love she had been trying to
deny came spilling forth. Tears leaked and trickled down her cheeks and when he
paused in touching her, and whispered, "I won't go any further if you
don't want it," she begged, "Please don't stop," and lifted her
mouth to his, kissing him tenderly.