Until She Met Daniel (28 page)

Mandy drew a deep breath. “It won't work.”

“Do you love me?”

Blinking back tears, she nodded. “Yes, but we're opposites. Don't forget, I have experience being married to an opposite.”

“Hell, Mandy.” Daniel reached up to catch a tear with his forefinger. “For God's sake, don't lump me with your parents or that stuffed shirt you married. I'd hate to think that was the horrible fate I was headed for before we met.”

The comical dismay on his face made Mandy smile despite herself.

“It doesn't mean we'd be right together.”

“I think we're exactly right together. I love you, and I love the wonderful, passionate, zany, laughing caring person you are. You bring out the best version of myself.”

“But I argue,” she sniffed.

“Lord, Mandy, we both do. I finally figured it out. My parents fought for the sake of fighting. We argue because we care about things. How dull would it be if we didn't? I don't want you to be any different from who you are.”

Mandy sniffed. “You might not feel that way forever. What if you leave Willow's Eve and go to a big city? In those kinds of places, a city manager's wife is expected to fit a certain mold. I'll never be polished. I'll never give a Grace Kelly type a run for her money.”

“In the first place, at her
best,
Grace Kelly couldn't have competed with you. The only thing I'll ever want is for Mandy Colson to be herself. You don't even have to call yourself Mandy Whittier.”

“I don't mind changing my name.”

“That's okay, too.”

“You said ‘in the first place.' What's the second?”

“I don't want to leave Willow's Eve. I love this place. But if we ever decide to go somewhere else, it's a decision we'll make together. Please have faith in me and the love we have for each other.”

Mandy wanted to believe that love made everything all right, but she knew it didn't always work out that way.

Still, how could she make her decisions out of fear, instead of love? In some cases, it was possible that prudence was another name for cowardice.

Strangely, she had a sudden sensation of role reversal. Daniel was the one showing the courage to love and commit himself, despite his past. He'd learned from it and moved on. Could she do the same?

* * *

D
ANIEL
 
COULD
 
SEE
 
both love and uncertainty fighting in Mandy's eyes. He'd considered leading up to his declaration slowly, maybe taking her on a few dates first. But he hadn't wanted to wait, instead acting on his impulse to propose immediately.

“I can't promise you everything will be perfect,” he told her. “Just that I'll try to be a good husband.”

“I don't need things to be perfect. Not anymore.”

“Good. Because I have a daughter who needs to know two people can love each other and make a life together, even if it isn't cloud nine every day. The same for any other children we might have. Do you want more children?”

“Yes. But—”

“Great. If we're lucky, they'll all turn out like you, including Sam. Look, I know we can work everything out if we trust each other and try hard enough. We'll both make mistakes, but that's okay. Hell, Mandy. I've seen you in action and you're a marvel. Together we'd make an unbeatable team.”

Her eyes lost some of their tension and he decided to press his advantage.

“Sweetheart, I'm not the same as the people who've hurt you. They couldn't appreciate the marvelous person you are. Maybe they're too limited, or too damaged by their past, or I don't know what. What I do know is that two people in love need to trust each other. I need to trust that you'll make the commitment to stick it out, and you need to trust that I don't want you to change, just to stay with me.”

* * *

M
ANDY
'
S
 
BRAIN
 
BUZZED
 
with the amazing words she was hearing. And she understood what Daniel was saying. He knew how often she'd moved, how she'd stayed safely unconnected so she couldn't be hurt, and couldn't disappoint anyone, the way she'd always disappointed her family and the people in their small, insulated world. He was saying he'd trust her to keep any commitment she might make to him, and wanted her to trust him in return.

Looking into his eyes, sparking with love and passion, she knew she did trust him. Amazingly, she did. Her feet didn't itch to wander anymore, unless it was
with
Daniel. And wherever they stayed, or wherever they wandered, they could make it work.

“Mandy,” he said, a devilish glint in his wink. “I really want to kiss you right now, but I'm afraid I'd be taking shameless advantage of your feelings in order to convince you to marry me. On the other hand, if you were already my fiancée...?”

Her smile widened. “In that case, consider yourself engaged.”

With a move that would make an athlete proud, Daniel snatched her into his arms, kissing her in a way that made any Hollywood kiss look platonic. His hands roamed boldly, moving over her waist with sure strokes before hugging her so tight she thought it was about as close to perfect as she'd ever experienced, no matter what he said about not being able to promise it.

Finally, slowly, he loosened his grip slightly, and stared into her eyes.

“I love you so much,” he breathed.

She grinned. “So, what sort of wedding do you want?”

“Whatever makes you happy. Just no monogrammed linens. Agree?”

“Agreed.”

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from ONE FROSTY NIGHT by Janice Kay Johnson.

PROLOGUE

W
HERE
 
WAS
 
THAT
 
damn dog?

Marsha Connelly stomped into the woods, swearing when she noticed the laces on her right boot were straggling and now snow-crusted. Grunting, she bent over far enough to tie and double-knot them. After she straightened, it took her a minute to regain enough breath to bellow again.

“Blarney!” she bellowed. “You come right this minute!”
Blarney.
She only hoped neighbors thought the blasted dog's name was Barney. What was
wrong
with Barney or Riley or Felix? Or even just Dog? But, no, she'd had to let the grandkids name the new puppy back a couple of years ago, when he'd been charming and small enough he couldn't yet bowl people over in his enthusiasm.

She could see his footprints in the snow; that was one good thing. Otherwise, she wouldn't have a clue where he'd hightailed it off to. On the other hand, it was aggravating to have snow on the ground in October.
October!

“Blarney!”

Marsha wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but she was starting to worry about the dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks dog. And they said golden retrievers were smart! Well, not this one. Still, it wasn't like him to take off like a rocket and not come back. He was pretty willing to please, on the whole. Just big and energetic and cheerful. She didn't like to think he might have slipped on icy rocks into the creek or, who knew, not so long ago there'd still been some trappers around here. Imagining the steel jaws crushing his leg made her swear some more.

She had to stop every couple hundred yards to catch her breath. Could be that young doctor was right, saying she needed to get some exercise. Except how could you exercise when you couldn't breathe?
Answer me that, huh?

What with everyone using their woodstoves and inserts, the smell of smoke was sharp in her nostrils. The air was so still today, she had no doubt a gray pall hung over the valley, clinging to the lowland between the mountains rising sharply to each side.

She stopped dead, cocking her head. Had she heard a bark? She called the dog's name and definitely heard an answer this time. She kept calling, and he kept barking, but he wasn't getting any closer. So he'd gotten himself stuck somehow.

Mumbling about dumb dogs, she kept right on through the woods, tripping a few times, getting snagged by a sharp blackberry cane disguised by snow in a small clearing. Every so often she called, “Blarney!” and the dog answered.

He didn't sound as if he was hurt, so maybe he'd just gotten his collar caught on something. Only why had he taken off like that in the first place? And gone so far?

She remembered how restless he'd been during the night, wanting out. He'd stood at the window whining until she'd grabbed the book from her end table and threw it at him. Then the minute she
did
open the door this morning, he shot out.

At last, she saw his plumy tail waving furiously just the other side of a mature cedar with low, sweeping boughs. Her puzzlement grew as she circled the tree, because he didn't look to be snagged on anything at all. He had all four feet planted as if he'd grown there like the snowberries and ferns.

“All right, what is it?” Marsha grumbled.

Blarney dipped his head as if to bury his nose in the snow, which she'd seen him do in play, only whatever snow there was here in the woods was thin and crusty.

And then she saw what he guarded, and her mouth dropped open.

It was a woman, curled up as if to sleep and lying on her side, wearing only jeans and athletic shoes and a sweatshirt. No hat, no coat, no gloves or scarf. And she was dead; there was no mistaking that. Her skin was bluish white, her lips and eyelids a deeper blue. Ice rimed those lips and glittered on her eyelashes.

And, oh, dear merciful God, she was a girl, not a woman. Maybe fourteen or fifteen. Slight and immature.

And frozen to death, here in the woods approaching Crescent Creek, which Marsha could hear burbling in the not-too-far distance.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she whispered, tears burning in her eyes. This poor girl hadn't been here but overnight. Marsha had looked at the outside thermometer before she went to bed, and it had registered thirty-nine degrees. The snow had been slush these past few days, until another cold spell hit during the night. If she'd let Blarney out when he'd asked—

Assailed by guilt, she said roughly, “Good dog, Blarney. You stay while I get help.”

He barked, and stayed where he was when she turned and hurried as fast as her old legs would carry her back the way she'd come.

Copyright © 2014 by Janice Kay Johnson