Читать книгу Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby - Lois Richer - Страница 10

Eight weeks to the day after he’d moved to Waseka, Wade pulled up to the curb in front of his house at five minutes to six, and parked, grinding the gears as he hadn’t done since he was thirteen. He forced himself to open the truck door, even though every muscle in his body begged him to just sit there and vegetate.

Man, he was tired. He couldn’t ever remember being this bone weary before. His eyes were bleary and unfocused and his hand wasn’t steady. Maybe if he put his head down, just for a moment, maybe then he could get his second wind. Or third.

“Wade?”

Oh, no, not her again! Wade huffed out a great puff of air, his brain groaning. What now?

“Wade, I think you’d better open your eyes and listen to me.”

Clarissa’s soft voice sounded deadly serious. He blinked his eyes open. Her face was white. Of course, it was always pale, but now it had lost all color. Her eyes were red and her hands blackened, as if she’d been playing in the dirt. There were the smudges all over her long floaty skirt.

How many times had he dreamed of that skirt?

“Wade? There was a fire.”

He jerked awake, his brain revving into high gear. “The kids?”

“They’re fine. They’re at my place.” She took a deep breath. “That’s not all.”

Not all? Wasn’t that enough? What else could there be? He tried to focus on what she was saying. “Huh?”

“Rita was here today, doing another inspection. She’s, um, pretty steamed.”

“Why?” He eased himself out of the truck, knowing he had to move but wincing at every budge of his smarting muscles. “What happened?”

“You’d better look for yourself.”

Her delicate hands helped him stumble to the sidewalk and up the path. She pushed open the front door and guided him inside.

The living room was littered with stuff, as usual. Smoky, water-soaked stuff, he noticed. Dishes cluttered the kitchen counter and food sat on the table as flies buzzed over it. A huge black spot covered the ceiling, most of the stove and a section of the floor.

He shuddered, immediately alert to the fact that he could hear no children’s voices. “What happened?”

“Tildy was frying. The oil caught on fire.”

That woke him up. He gulped at the idea of his lovely young niece covered in burns.

“She was trying to help Pierce and forgot to pay attention. Jared saw it start and thought he could put it out with a dish towel. That caught on fire too.” She pointed to the corner. “The oil set the cloth alight and when he tossed it to the floor, it caught onto the laundry Lacey was going to wash. I saw smoke and came over. By the time I got here, Pierce had finally found a fire extinguisher and put it out, but by then Rita had already arrived.”

“But where was Mrs. Anders?”

“Apparently the hospital called to say her husband had a heart attack. She told the kids to call me when she couldn’t reach you, but they didn’t want to be a bother. I think Tildy was afraid I’d make her wait to fry. She’s desperate to get an A in that class.”

It was clear to Wade by the glint in her eyes that Clarissa felt the children were reciting his precise words. He clenched his fists, drew a breath and summoned all his courage.

“And? You might as well spit out the rest of it.” His heart dropped to his boots as he surveyed the damage and considered how much worse off they could have been.

“Rita told me to take the kids. I wanted to call you but no one knew where you were.” There was a hint of censure in her voice. “I tried to stall her, but she’d already made her decision by then.”

Wade saw her swallow, heard her voice drop, and knew the worst had happened.

“I think she’s going to recommend foster care, Wade.”

“She can’t!” He couldn’t bear the thought of it, his sister’s kids split apart, separated, living with people who wouldn’t understand them. His own life, empty and barren of the joy they brought, the small glimpses of his sister he caught in each child. Worst of all, the promise would be broken.

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “She can’t.”

“Yes, Wade. She can. I just wanted to warn you.” Clarissa didn’t meet his glance, but stood staring at her feet, her head bowed in sadness.

Wade stared at the mess he’d made of things. “I should have been here, should have been nearby. Why did I have to pick this afternoon to run to the city for supplies?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Her head lifted as if she’d come to some decision. She studied his face for a long moment, then tugged at his arm. “Come on, Wade.”

“It does matter.” He felt the responsibility and almost bowed under it. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. They could have died. I should have managed better. No matter how hard I try, I never seem to get it right. I messed up here. Again.” He couldn’t look her in the eye, knew he’d see condemnation.

Clarissa’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I’m sure you’ve done the best you could. No one was hurt. And it’s not anyone’s fault. Accidents happen.” She pushed against his chest. “Come with me. I’ve already called the insurance agency. It’s the only one in town, remember. Your renter’s policy covers most of the damage, they think. But you can’t stay here. Not till they’ve assessed the damage.”

He stared at her, his mind numb with the realization that his little family was now homeless. His brain wouldn’t move on from that. He felt the tug on his arm as if through a fog. “Oh. No, I suppose not. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Can you get up?”

Dimly Wade realized that sometime during their conversation he’d flopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs. His eyes noted the places where fire had singed the flooring, and he shivered at the thought of what might have happened.

“Wade?”

“What?” He blinked and refocused on her, forcing his mind to function. “Oh. Get up? Why?”

“You need a shower and something to eat, for one thing. You can have that at my place. The water heater’s turned off here. The firemen said it was better that way. Come on.”

He managed to get up and stumble to the back door, grateful for her calm even voice and the gentle hand under his arm. His brain couldn’t take it all in. It was like a bad dream.

A pile of charred bits of fabric lay outside the back door. Wade stopped in his tracks and stared. He couldn’t seem to move his eyes away, couldn’t stop imagining the scars…

“Wade, listen to me.” Clarissa turned his face toward her, her palms cool again his cheeks.

She felt good, he decided. Soothing. He didn’t even try to free himself. Her flower-soft fragrance tickled his nose. Roses, he thought. Or lavender maybe. Something like his mother would have worn.

Her eyes were clear and calm. “You have to get out of here now, Wade. Everybody is fine. They’re okay. Come on, let’s keep going.”

He moved on only because he knew she would nag him until he did. He walked across the grass, and into her yard with its pretty flowers and trim grass, marveling at the contrast between the two houses. His fingers curled around her small soft hand. Such a tiny hand to be so competent.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled when her other hand slid under his arm. He forced his rubber legs to move one foot in front of the other.

“Of course you are. Three steps up now.” There was a hint of amused mockery in her quiet tones.

“I’m just worried about the kids. My boots—”

“Are fine.” She urged him inside. “Sit down here and drink this.”

He took the cup from her fingers and sipped the dark steaming brew. “I don’t take sugar.”

“Today you do. Drink it.” There was no room for argument in that prim order.

Wade drank, his mind picturing that awful scene again.

“They’re fine, Wade. See, there’s Pierce working on his birds in the front yard. And Tildy’s sitting out there, too. With Ryan Adams. Lacey’s over in the park. You can just see her red shirt through the trees.” She pointed.

Wade followed the direction and caught sight of Lacey’s favorite blouse. “Jared?” he choked, his heart swelling with relief.

“I’m right here. I’m trying to fix this stupid—uh, broken cupboard.” Jared came to stand before his uncle. He frowned. “You don’t look too good, Uncle Wade.”

“That’s funny. I feel fine. Just fine.” Wade noticed his sister’s distinct features in the tall boy and felt the guilt wash over him again. He was growing up so fast. “Are you all right, son?”

“Of course. We all are. Clarissa’s taking care of things. That’s okay, isn’t it, Uncle Wade?” Jared’s face contorted with worry. “You’re not mad that we got her? Tildy didn’t mean to do it, you know. It was an accident.”

“I know. No. It’s perfect. Okay, I mean.” Wade glanced around with bleary eyes, noting the sparkling kitchen, the yeasty fragrance of fresh baked bread, the utter hominess of it all. No matter what he did, his kitchen had never looked like this. He noticed Jared’s frown and refocused.

“It’s just fine,” he repeated, then stopped when his stomach began a low but very audible rumbling.

“Jared, will you show your uncle where the shower is? And here are some fresh towels. As soon as he’s ready, we’ll have dinner.” Clarissa smiled, her eyes meeting Wade’s. “Go ahead. Everything is all right. I’ll watch them for you. We’ll talk later.”

Wade followed Jared up the stairs, easing up on the balustrade when he felt it give under his weight.

“Another thing to be fixed,” he muttered, trying to smother a yawn. “This house sure needs a lot of catch-up work.”

“You should have let me help you finish MacGregor’s roof last night,” Jared told him, frowning. “I can do stuff. Besides, you can’t work morning, noon and night, Uncle Wade. Nobody can. You’ll burn out. I heard the teachers talking about it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make a home for you kids. I promised your mom, and I’m not breaking that promise.” Wade let himself be led into the bathroom. He accepted the armload of towels and listened as Jared explained the old-fashioned shower.

“Make sure you keep that curtain in the tub or Clarissa’s place will be flooded,” the boy ordered, frowning up at him as if he wasn’t sure Wade understood.

“Uh-huh. Curtain inside. Got it.” Wade repeated the words mindlessly, unable to hang onto any thought other than that the kids were all right.

After a long searching look at his uncle, Jared left the bathroom, apparently satisfied that Wade could manage on his own. Wade grinned at such consideration, but decided it was rather endearing coming from the boy.

He stripped off his clothes, fully conscious of how much dust he was leaving in the pretty lavender-and-white bathroom. He’d spent the sunrise hours of this morning replacing hundred-year-old attic shavings with insulation so that the owners could move in right away. Most of the dust had settled somewhere on him.

As he felt the warm sting of the water trickle over his aching body, Wade closed his eyes and searched for an answer.

Please God, what should I do now? I can’t give up Kendra’s kids. I just can’t. I promised her.

Sometime later, Wade didn’t know how long, the water grew cool, then the chill of it finally penetrated to his brain. He turned the taps off and grabbed a towel, rubbing himself fiercely to warm up.

Someone, Jared maybe, had set some clean clothes on the toilet seat. He pulled them on automatically, barely noting the newly replaced buttons and carefully stitched tears.

Then he sat down to think.

He had to do something. Figure out something. He wasn’t going to lose Kendra’s kids. Not now. He’d promised and, no matter what it cost, this time he was keeping his promise. He wasn’t going to mess up again, social worker or no.

His eye caught sight of the silk lavender bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. Clarissa was a lavender kind of woman. Her pale skin and silver-streaked hair would look perfect in the color. A pair of slippers lay on the floor, and he imagined her padding around this old house in the morning.

He’d seen her several times when he’d risen early. She always put out birdseed first thing. Then he’d catch the hint of fresh brewed coffee and pretty soon she’d be sitting at the table by the bay window, sipping it as she watched the birds peck at their meal. It took her a long time to wake up, but eventually she’d move, and Wade would catch the aroma of frying bacon or grilling sausages.

Now that the weather was warmer, she’d begun eating outside, sharing her breakfast with whatever came along. Then she’d pull up a few weeds, water her garden, finish her coffee and undo her hair.

Wade always liked watching her brush out her hair, though he felt a bit embarrassed, like a Peeping Tom or something. But once she undid that knot on top, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He would never have believed her hair was so long, not when she wound it up on the top of her head like that. Free and cascading down her back, it flowed well past her waist in a river of sparkling silver.

A shrill childish laugh penetrated his musing and Wade got up to look out the small bathroom window. Pierce was pointing at a tree and ordering everyone to look. Seconds later Clarissa came outside, a big book in her hands. She and Pierce sat together on the grass and searched through the pages until they found what they wanted. Wade watched as Pierce leaned his head on Clarissa’s shoulder, his voice barely audible on the late afternoon air.

“Am I a nerd, Clarissa?”

“Of course not! I don’t know many children who could identify as many birds as you can, Pierce. Why would you think such a thing?” She sounded truly amazed by his question.

“That’s what the kids call me. They say it’s stupid to spend so much time on birds.” Pierce shrugged. “Maybe they’re right. I don’t play their games very well.”

As Wade watched, Clarissa hugged the little boy closer.

“Listen, sweetheart. Everybody has different interests. You like birds, and there’s not one thing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with games, either. The problem comes when we make fun of other people for their choices.”

“But I don’t fit in! I don’t even know how to catch a ball.”

Pierce’s rueful tones told Wade that catching a ball was very important, and Wade chewed himself out for not spending more time with the boy.

“Then we’ll have to practice. That’s not such a hard thing to learn. Not like a baby bird learning to fly, for goodness sake.” Clarissa’s beautiful smile coaxed him to join in and a minute later Pierce called his big brother to help him practice.

“She’s good,” Wade muttered to himself in admiration. “She’s very, very good with them.”

“I got the frog, but I lost the guy.” That was Lacey, glum with disappointment as she flopped down on the lawn beside Clarissa. “What is it with this biology stuff?”

“Oh? Didn’t Kevin want to study with you?” Clarissa sounded amused. “He certainly rushed over here quickly when he heard about the fire.”

Wade frowned. Who the dickens was Kevin? And what did the kid want with his niece?

“Kevin had to go home for supper.” Lacey sprawled on the grass, bare feet nestling into Clarissa’s skirt. “Honestly, he’s so smart, I feel like a dud.”

“He’s not smart about everything.” Clarissa fiddled with her skirt, but Wade caught the glimmer of a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “I happen to know that he’s only recently taken to studying biology. You might ask him for help with your own work.”

“You mean like spend a date dissecting a frog?” Lacey made a face. “Ugh!”

“Well, why not? You’d get to spend time together. Anyway, you’re too young to date.”

Wade watched as Clarissa rose lithely to her feet, her hand gently smoothing the other girl’s hair.

“Think about it,” she murmured. “I’ve got to check the kitchen. I think Tildy’s forgotten something.”

Wade adjusted his position and spotted the tiny funnel cloud of smoke coming out the back screen door. He groaned. “How many times is it going to take for that girl?”

When no one answered him, he realized he was talking to himself. Gathering up his dirty clothes, he headed downstairs to face the reality of his messed-up life.

“Tildy, honey, you have to set the timer. Then things won’t burn, even if you do forget. The timer will remind you.”

“How many cakes is that?” Tildy’s tearful voice warned Wade that she’d been at it for a while. So did the acrid odor of smoldering sugar.

“It’s only a bit of flour and sugar, Tildy. It doesn’t matter. We’ll just try again after supper. Okay?”

A huge sigh. “Okay. Thanks a lot, Clarissa. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Wade walked in just as Clarissa hugged his niece. He stood there, studying their obvious camaraderie for a long time. It was only when she touched his arm, that he realized Clarissa had been speaking to him. He jerked to attention, pushing his thoughts away. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I’ll take the clothes and put them in the washer. You sit down. We’re all ready.” In a matter of seconds she had the others gathered around her worn oak table. “I’ll just say grace.”

Wade automatically bowed his head, listening to her few soft words of thanks.

“Now, if you could slice this roast, we’ll be all ready.” She handed him the carving knife and a platter with a piece of succulent beef sitting in the middle of it, juices dark and tantalizingly pooled around it.

Wade watched as she set out a heaping dish of mashed potatoes, peas, gravy, fresh rolls and a salad. His mouth watered. His stomach rumbled again, more loudly this time. The kids burst out laughing.

And suddenly, with piercing clarity, he knew exactly what he had to do. Wade set down the carving knife beside his plate, focusing his entire attention on Clarissa’s face.

“I need to say something before we start.”

“Yes?” Clarissa looked up from pouring Pierce a glass of milk. There was mild interest in her eyes, but nothing more. It was obvious that she had no idea of his intentions.

“Clarissa, uh…” He stopped, looked around and realized that everyone was staring at him. He couldn’t do this now, not here, in front of the kids!

“Yes?” Clarissa set the milk jug down on the counter, seated herself and carefully spread her napkin in her lap. “Pass the potatoes around, please, Jared.”

Wade frowned. He really should do this properly, in private, where she’d pay full attention to him, listen to all his arguments. Yeah, later.

He glanced around the table. The kids were gawking at him, their mouths hanging open in amazement as he ladled yet another spoonful of peas onto his plate.

“I didn’t know you liked peas so much, Uncle Wade.” Tildy almost hid the laugh that tilted up the side of her pretty mouth.

“What? Oh. Sorry. Here, Pierce, take some of these.” He pushed half the plateful onto the boy’s plate, opened one of the golden rolls and watched the butter he spread on it melt into a puddle of soft creamy yellow.

Yes, marriage was the only way to go now. He didn’t have a choice, not if he intended to keep his promise. His wants, needs, had to come second to what was best for the kids. With Clarissa as their stepmother, no court could deny the children her tender caring. He could only hope she still wanted a family.

“Clarissa, I—” He stopped again, searching for the right way to ask her for a date. Sort of. Not a real date, of course.

“Go ahead, Wade. I’m listening.” She smiled that gentle, Mona-Lisa-like smile that made his palms sweat, but her attention wasn’t on him. “Use your fork please, Pierce. Tildy, would you open the window a bit more? It’s quite hot in here. What did you want to say, Wade?”

When no answer was forthcoming after several minutes, Clarissa looked up. She stopped spooning out potatoes for just one moment, stared at him inquisitively, then glanced around the table at the curious faces that watched him so closely. Finally, she broke the silence, her eyes darker as they studied him.

“Go ahead, children. Eat your dinner. We’ve some homework to do later. Your uncle is tired. Let him relax.”

Everyone else seemed to follow her lead as one by one, the kids took up the signal, dishing up her food like locusts on a field of tender green shoots. Soon the conversation was going a mile a minute. Wade decided to go with the flow. He picked up the salad and filled his bowl.

“Clarissa’s house is a great place, Uncle Wade. Do you know she’s got a screen porch back there? I’m gonna sit out there tonight and watch the fireflies. Some people around here call them lightning bugs. Isn’t that a silly name?”

Pierce chatted away a mile a minute, and Wade let him, content to eat while he examined Clarissa’s ability to get his whole family involved in the conversation.

How did she do that? The most he got some nights was a grunt or a heap of complaints. Of course, it wasn’t while they were eating food like this!

Jared looked pleased by his reasoning.

“Yeah! And we can live in this house, right, Uncle Wade? For a little while anyway.” He grinned happily. “I love this old house. It’s kinda like staying with an old friend. It’s got some problems, but it’s homey.”

The words stabbed Wade with the wealth of longing he could hear beneath those words. He had no idea the boy felt that way. When had they ever hung around anywhere long enough to make old friends? Of course, he’d lost a lot. Kendra had a knack for making her house a home, probably because she’d loved her kids so much.

“I think it’s a romantic house with all these crocheted curtains, and especially those frilly things over Clarissa’s bed.”

Lacey sighed and hugged herself in a melodramatic way that Wade knew meant she’d been reading sappy love stories again. Oh well, she’d run into reality soon enough. Why spoil the illusion of happy ever after?

“If we lived here all the time, I could take all kinds of pictures of the birds. Clarissa’s got way better birds than we have, plus she’s got the woods right out there. We’ve just got that dumb old playground, and the noise scares them away. Can I have some more meat? Please?”

The topic of the conversation said nothing, merely smiling at the children as they talked and munching on the minuscule amounts of food she placed on her own plate.

Though Wade spent a long time studying her, Clarissa did not return his look. She waited, hands folded in her lap, until everyone was finished, then gathered up the plates.

“Would anyone like some peach cobbler?” She lifted a golden delicacy from the oven. “I have some ice cream to go with it.”

Wade closed his eyes and breathed. Heaven help him! Peach cobbler was his favorite dessert. And no one had ever made it better than his sister. The words brought back fond memories of their times together on the reservation when they’d had to depend on each other for companionship. They’d picked peaches one year and earned enough money to buy bikes. They’d also taken home cases and cases of the ripened peaches, until his mother had begged them to stop.

How had Clarissa found out?

Wade jerked up his head to study her, his eyes narrowed as he tried to search out some hint that she’d known about his past. But Clarissa simply stared at him with that bland smile, holding out a dish, ice cream melting on top, as she waited patiently for his response.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured when he didn’t take it. “Perhaps you’d rather have something else? I know some people don’t care for peaches.”

“I’ll try it,” Wade managed to say and took the dish from her hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Coffee?”

Wade tried three helpings of the dessert, and by then he knew that he’d done the right thing in deciding to propose to her. A man didn’t find a woman like Clarissa Cartwright every day, not one who made peach cobbler that melted in your mouth, or one who could dissect a frog without wincing. There sure weren’t many women who’d calmly take in five people, feed, shelter and care for them as if it weren’t a stitch out of the usual routine.

He’d better hang on to her before somebody else beat him to the punch. After all, hadn’t she been praying to get married the day he’d met her? Wade was pretty sure he wasn’t an answer to prayer, but she would get her family. That ought to make a difference.

“We’ll do the dishes, Clarissa. You and Uncle Wade go have coffee on the veranda,” Tildy ordered. “I’m sure you have things to talk about.”

Wade noticed a sparkle in her eye that hadn’t been there before. Had his niece figured out what he was going to do? If she had, Wade dearly hoped she’d shut up about it until he got everything arranged.

Would Clarissa agree to his preposterous scheme?

He helped the thin, silent woman into the big woven willow chair, handed her a cup of well-creamed coffee, then took his own seat. He set down his mug and faced her.

“Clarissa?”

“Yes?” She calmly sipped her drink, her eyes on the blooming apple tree in the garden outside.

Wade felt his temperature begin to rise at her obvious disinterest in what he was saying. For the kids, he reminded himself as he licked a crumb of peach cobbler off the edge of his lip. He was doing this for the kids.

“Would you marry me?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She said it so matter-of-factly, he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“What? Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you only want someone to look after the kids until you can get things straight with Rita. We can do that without getting married.” She avoided his eyes, peering up into the sky instead. “You don’t have to marry me to get my help. I’ve already offered a number of times. Remember?”

Wade flushed. He’d been rude with his refusal, and he’d hurt her feelings. Besides, what woman wanted to be proposed to like that? He could at least make this part of it special. He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut as she spoke.

“Don’t worry about it, Wade. It will all work out. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. You just have to trust God to handle these things.”

He took a deep breath, hating the idea of spilling his guts, but knowing he was going to have to open up a little, let her inside. He hated that, hated feeling exposed and vulnerable to anyone. It only made it easier to see how many mistakes he’d made.

So why did he have this strange feeling that he could count on this woman?

“I do trust God, but I am also worried, Clarissa. I made a pact with my sister. Before she died, I promised I would take care of her kids, that I’d keep them together, raise them as my own. I vowed that I wouldn’t let them get into the trouble I’ve had.” He gulped. “So far, I’m doing a lousy job.”

“I think you’re doing very well.” Clarissa motioned toward his house. “That was just an accident. I’m sure Rita will come to understand that. In time.”

“It’s an accident that shouldn’t have happened. I should have done better for them. They need someone to help them through the tough parts. I wasn’t thinking properly, you see. I thought giving them a home and food and a sense of security was what they needed most.”

Clarissa smiled, her face thoughtful. “It’s a good deal to ask of anyone,” she murmured. “The children have done very well under your care.”

He flushed with pleasure. “Maybe. But I have a hunch they’d do even better with you as their stepmother.” He said it deliberately, wanting to shake her out of this Mona Lisa stupor she’d sunken into. When that didn’t work, Wade kept talking.

“I’m not very good at listening to what they’re not saying, to finding out what’s bothering them. And I can’t be there all the time, even though I’d like to be. But I really do want the best for them.”

Clarissa nodded. “You don’t have to convince me. I know that anybody who got to love those children would be very happy.” She said it mildly, her fingers busy fiddling with her skirt again. It was the only sign that she was in the least bit nervous, but Wade took courage from that.

“So, will you marry me?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

Wade huffed out a sigh, half anger, half frustration. “I don’t get it. You love kids, you want to be married, you’re not involved with anyone else. Are you?” He frowned, then relaxed when she shook her head.

“No.”

“So why not? I’m not an ogre. I do an honest job. I’m fair with my employers and with the kids. I’m certainly not rich, but we’re managing. What else is there?”

“Love.”

The whispered word made him frown. “Clarissa, I’ve told you I like you. I think you’re a very special person.” He couldn’t say more than that, couldn’t tell her that he thought she had grit and gumption and an inner strength that he admired. It wasn’t, well, romantic.

Clarissa shook her head as she smiled, her eyes avoiding his. “I’m not talking about special. Special is a mean-anything word.” It was clear that she held little stock in the term. “I’m talking about love, Wade. The real thing that holds marriages together long after the children have left and the attraction has gone. The deep abiding commitment that two people make to each other until death does them part.”

“But that’s what I’m offering. At least…” Wade was beginning to wish he’d never opened his big mouth. A man shouldn’t have to work this hard to convince someone to marry him!

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head again and a few curling tendrils tumbled loose of her topknot. “You see me as this sad spinster woman who’s shriveling up inside, don’t you? And maybe I am. But I believe in the power of love to change people, to change lives.” She finally met his stare, her eyes intent. “Do you?”

He nodded slowly, visualizing the kids in ten years. “I believe your love could transform those children into even better adults. And you do love them, don’t you, Clarissa?” He waited, hoping she wouldn’t deny what was so obviously the truth.

“Of course.” She didn’t even bother to pretend.

“So do I. And that’s what this is all about. You and I are adults. We know the score, we know how many marriages fail even with love. We also know that lots of people have happy marriages without love.” He took a deep breath and continued, praying for guidance through this minefield.

“I’m offering a commitment to you. I won’t walk out on you or them, Clarissa. I will never walk away. I like you. I respect and admire you. And I want you to marry me.”

“For the children?”

He nodded. “I won’t lie. For the children. To keep them together, to give them the kind of home they won’t have if they go into foster care. Because I think you care enough about them to help me keep them together.”

She sat back in her chair, her eyes closed, head tilted back against the soft cushion as if she were praying. Wade sat there, studying her. Even with only her grandmother, Wade knew she’d enjoyed all the things he’d missed out on in his childhood, all the things he wanted for the kids.

“It would be good for you, too. You want a family, somebody to eat all that wonderful cooking, to share this place. Someone to laugh with and enjoy life. I know you’d be taking on an awful lot, but I believe you’re the kind of woman who can do that and enjoy it.” Hadn’t he seen that for himself? Wade let a tiny bit of his heart unfold to her.

“This way, you’d get to mother the kids the way you would your own. You wouldn’t have to work if you didn’t want to. I’d provide a home for us, either here or in a new place altogether, if that’s what you want.”

She was watching him now, her eyes shadowed, hiding her thoughts. Wade couldn’t tell if she was buying into the dream or not, so he played the only card he had left.

“Love could happen, Clarissa. Maybe someday. You’re a very beautiful woman, you know. When you relax and forget to be so prim and prissy, your natural beauty shines through. That’s why the kids latched on to you so quick. They’re good judges of character.”

If Wade was sure of one thing in his life it was that Clarissa Cartwright was decent, caring, loyal and true. She wouldn’t run away or back out of a deal because of something in his past. So there was no need to tell her.

Was there?

Her huffy voice broke into his thoughts. “I am not in the least prim!”

“Yes, you are. But in the nicest way.” He grinned. He was getting to her, he could tell.

Silence.

Then she spoke again.

“All right, Wade.” Her voice carried to him softly, barely audible above the crickets. “I will marry you. For the children.”

A wave of relief swelled, then cascaded all over him. Wade sighed his relief, stood and drew her up to stand beside him. In the dim light from the living room he could barely see into her eyes. She looked soft, vulnerable in the wash of twilight that made her round, solemn eyes seem lonely. He wanted to reassure her that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake in her life taking him on.

“No, that isn’t quite right.” He shook his head, suddenly wanting their relationship to be more than that. “Not just for the children. For us, too. We’ll make something good of this marriage, Clarissa. I promise you that.”

As he tilted her chin and leaned down to touch her lips with his in a promise, Wade shoved thoughts of the past out of his mind and concentrated on the shy, timid, butterfly-woman in his arms. Her lips were soft, untried, and he touched them reverently, asking a question.

When her arms lifted to encircle his neck and her mouth molded to his, he thought he had his answer. The tiny fire of hope flickering inside his heart told him they would make this work.

Only later, when he was checking into the motel, did it dawn on him that he was doing the one thing he’d promised himself he would never do. Wade would be starting his married life with a lie. He would never allow love to blossom in his heart.

But for now, there wasn’t any other way. He needed Clarissa.