A Weekend Getaway (26 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Parker opened another cardboard box to find books. Books on
leadership, investing money and suicide. While staring at the
Choosing Your Own Way Out
paperback, he
felt his hands tremble slightly. He willed them to stop, but they didn’t.

Did he still want to kill himself?

A picture of Hannah and her big brown eyes flashed in his
mind. She had asked his opinion about graduating high school early if she had
Huntington’s. (He’d suggested she stay—no need to rush the things you
could never do again). She’d kissed him on his cheek, like Belgians do, when he
left, asking if she could visit him in Indiana sometime. (Most definitely!)
She’d invited him to her house for Christmas. (It would be his pleasure.)

He had a daughter and he was getting a divorce. He finally
knew the truth about Ivy’s first pregnancy and he was dying.

A tear formed in the corner of his eye. He quickly wiped it
away. Grown men didn’t cry.

He gathered up the three books on suicide and tossed them
into the brick fireplace. Taking a match out of the box on the mantel, he lit
the papers on fire. After all, he might have several good years left. Years he
could spend with Hannah. And who knew what kind of medical progress might be
made in that time?

Smoke billowed in, reminding him to open the chimney flue. After
he pushed the lever, he stood there and watched the orange-yellow flames. The
fire burned out too quickly. He went outside to the woodpile and gathered up
some kindling and logs. One of his favorite memories from this house was
sitting by the fire toasting marshmallows or reading National Geographic. His
and Ivy’s upscale house only had a gas fireplace. But nothing soothed him more
than the comforting scent of a real wood-burning fire.

After arranging the small twigs into a teepee-like
structure, he struck another match. He inhaled the wonderful aroma and smiled.

His ringing cell phone ruined the moment. With a sigh, he answered
his VP’s questions, then hit his second-in-command with the idea he’d been
kicking around since yesterday. “I’m officially stepping down as President of
Mall Land. I’m going to head up a new education committee, where we’ll offer
kids internships and college scholarships.” That would give his work more
purpose. “I want you to take over the day-to-day operations.”

“Are you sure?” His voice jittered as if he were anxious. “This
is a big decision.”

“I know. I’m trying to focus on others for a change. I’ll
let you worry about debits and credits.”

“Is everything all right? What happened in Texas?”

“I found my soul.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I trust you’ll do a kick-ass job.”

“Thanks, but. . .” His colleague stumbled over his words
some more before accepting the offer. When Parker hung up, he felt a weight
removed from his shoulders. He flipped on the radio and started unpacking to
the reggae beat of Sugar Ray’s “When it’s
Over
.”

A little while later, the doorbell rang and he froze. No one
ever visited him here. Perhaps it was a little girl selling Scout cookies. Patting
the back pocket of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet, he made his way to
the front door. Peanut butter patties were his favorite.

He pulled the oak door toward him and his mouth gaped open.
A beautiful, blue-eyed woman with freckles smiled up at him. A natural beauty.
Somehow she was the one person who could render him speechless.

Bethany waved a triangular
Toblerone
package in front of his face. “May I come in? I’ve brought chocolate.” Her
pitch rose in teasing.

“Of course.” He stepped back and welcomed her inside.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced, but. . . .”

“No need to apologize.”

“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s right.
Only apologize for things that are your fault. Wait, this is my fault.”

They both laughed. “Don’t apologize when you surprise
someone with chocolate. If anyone should apologize, it’s me for this mess. I’m
still moving in.” Suddenly he felt self-conscious of his casual appearance. He
rubbed the stubble on his cheek. The husky-voiced radio
d.j
.
announced she was playing the top songs from the turn of the millennium. The
good ole days.

“The place looks great. You look great.” Beth blushed and he
adored her for it. She was a sweet, intelligent woman who didn’t care about material
things. She’d probably be as content living in this little 1200 square foot
cottage as she would in his mansion on the beach.

Whoa! He was getting ahead of himself. What made him think
that Beth would ever live with him?

# # #

Beth shoved her free hand in the front pocket of her coat as
she stood in Parker’s small living room. Unshaven and dressed in a red-checked
flannel shirt, he looked ruggedly handsome. Like a lumberjack.

This was crazy. He was a hunk, always had been, and she was
a silly woman still harboring a schoolgirl crush. She needed to set her sights
lower. Or forget about men and try to find contentment alone. Maybe she should
get a cat. “Can I help you unpack?”

“No thanks.” He stepped behind her to remove her coat.

Such a gentleman! It was the little things, wasn’t it? The
little things that made you care about someone.

A fire crackled and filled the room with a wonderful, warm
scent.

Opening his foyer closet, he revealed an empty wooden rod.
“Hmm. Haven’t unpacked the hangers yet.” He placed her coat over the back of
his worn leather sofa. “Sit down. Give me half of that
Toblerone
and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“You can have all of it.” God knew her body would instantly
convert those calories into fat. She handed the candy bar to him.

“What if you knew today was your last day on earth? Would
you regret not eating this?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Of course. But I can’t
indulge myself like that. You’ve seen what I look like when I eat whatever I
want and it’s not pretty.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh.

He took it out of the cardboard package and broke the foiled
triangle stick in half. “That’s not true. You’ve always been pretty.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she took solace in the fact that he
flushed, too. She refused to accept the temptation. “I gained two pounds from
those waffles with whipped cream I let you talk me into eating on the trip.”

“I like a woman with curves. Besides, wouldn’t life be
better if you allowed yourself a little chocolate? You need to balance planning
for tomorrow with enjoying what today has to offer.” His arm stretched toward
her with the treat.

That Lee Ann Womack song “I Hope you Dance” started playing
on the radio. The notes and lyrics always touched her soul. “I love this song.”

Beth realized she was tired of working hard without any
rewards. She was tired of delaying gratification. Licking her lips, she stared
at the tiny chocolate row of mountains. “You’re right. I should treat myself
every once in a while.” That was the trick, though. Only a little sugar in an
otherwise healthy diet.

She leaned forward to take the sweet from him, but he pulled
it back out of her reach.

He placed it on a nearby box and put his palm flat. “Dance
with me first.”

A nervous giggle escaped her throat. “Why?”

“Because you can’t listen to these lyrics and sit on your
butt. You must dance. It’s a given.”

Cocking her head, she studied him. “Are you serious?”

“You still owe me a dance from the reunion. You hurt your
leg and I. . . Well, I ruined everyone’s good time by announcing I have
Huntington’s.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Come on. The song’s almost over.
We’re missing out.”

At that, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull
her into his arms. He held her close, warming her back with one hand and the
other clasping her palm. She was slow dancing with Parker! This was too good to
be true.

Her foot brushed against an open box on the floor. She
looked at the boxes and books stacked around the room, the orange flames in the
brick fireplace and then at Parker’s brown eyes. Miniature flames danced in
their reflection.

She and Parker exchanged smiles.

Finally, she was no longer a wallflower. The only way this
moment could improve would be if he leaned down and kissed her. She inhaled the
soft spices of his cologne. Her heart started pumping blood even faster.
Quickly, she averted her gaze. She’d hate for him to see the desperate look in
her eyes. They’d slept next to each other in a hotel twice on their trip and
he’d never made a move. He clearly wasn’t interested.

The violins faded out as the song ended. She wasn’t ready
for their one and only dance in sixteen years to be over. She wanted to close
her eyes and lean her head against his chest. She wanted to savor the gentle
pressure of his palm against the small of her back. This needed to last.

He kept swaying a moment after the song gave way to a
commercial. It was as if he didn’t want to let her go, either. She dared steal
another peek at his seductive eyes. He had those endearing crinkles at the edges,
like an aging movie star. Her breaths became labored. God, why wouldn’t he just
do it?

He dropped her hand and stepped back.

Oh, no!

It was now or never. She sucked in some air, stood on her
toes and kissed him on the mouth. Electricity zapped through her nerve endings.

Maybe she’d just ruined things, but she’d always have this
kiss. She could lie in bed at night, remembering their romantic dance and the
thrill of one stolen kiss.

When he didn’t respond, she dropped down onto her heels.

He stared at her. It was terrible. It was awkward.

She bit her lower lip. “Um, sorry about that.” She looked
for her purse on the couch. It’d gotten lost behind her bulky coat. “I’d better
go.”

“What do I have to do to make you stop apologizing all the
time?” His voice sounded playful.

“I don’t know.” She grabbed her things and stared at the
Toblerone
. She’d leave that. “I’ll let you get back to
work.” Her body couldn’t quite move fast enough as she scurried toward the
front door.

His hand clasped her wrist. “Wait a minute. I think we
should talk.”

She stared at the wooden floor, shaking her head. “No need.
I’m an idiot. Nothing to talk about.”

Still holding her wrist, he placed the index finger of his
other hand under her chin, gently forcing her head upward. “That was kind of
nice.” He leaned down and planted a proper kiss on her.

Her coat and purse fell to the floor. She closed her eyes
and allowed herself to melt into his arms. He liked her, too! He must, right?
First he asked her to dance and now their lips were touching!

The kiss lasted through a million heartbeats. Time
distorted, becoming both faster and slower than she expected. Please don’t
stop. Don’t ever stop.

His hands moved from the outside of her sweater to the
inside, their warmth along her spine triggering goose bumps. She wanted to
touch his bare skin, too. She untucked his soft flannel shirt and caressed his
muscular back.

The truth was she wanted to unbutton his shirt and ravage
his body. She knew how great it would feel to have him make love to her. She
hadn’t felt this excited about a man in a long time.

Suddenly, his hands froze. He broke off their kiss and
studied her. “Beth, this is a mistake.” He turned away, leaned his forearm
against the fireplace mantel and hung his head. “I’m going to die.”

“I know that. But not for what—ten, maybe fifteen
years?”

A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Still. It wouldn’t be fair to
you to get involved. It’s all downhill from here for me. You should go out and
find a man who can take care of you. Give you whatever you want. Marriage,
kids. It’s not too late for you.”

She came up behind him and scratched his back through his
flannel shirt. “Let me decide what I want.”

He continued staring into the fire. “I’m the father of your
child. We’ll always have that connection. But in all seriousness, you could do
a lot better than me.”

“I could do a lot worse, too. Parker, I’ve spent way too
many years working hard, hoping somehow the universe would reward me. Now I
realize that if I want something, I need to speak up for myself. And you are
what I want.”

He shook his head. “You’ll end up my nursemaid. I can’t do
that to you.”

“How do you know I don’t just want a one-night stand?” She
smirked as he turned to face her. “Seriously. You might wake up tomorrow
morning with a little note on your pillow giving you the brush off.” She
couldn’t help but chuckle while Christina Aguilera’s “What a Girl Wants” played
in the background.

“Well, as long as you promise not to overstay your welcome.”
He smiled. “I guess I could let you have your way with me.”

Never in her life had she been the first to kiss a guy.
She’d always waited. If he were interested, he would make a move. But it was
quite a rush to take what her heart wanted. Kiss and not know if she’d be
kissed back. What a thrill. Like jumping out of an airplane.

Again, she rose on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against
his. Her hands pressed against his prickly cheeks. Adrenaline whooshed through
her veins. Endorphins popped. Her toes curled.

She hated to admit it, but she loved him. She knew better
than to say it, though.

As
they embraced in his disheveled living room, listening to the music from her
younger years, she realized she wouldn’t go back. She liked who she’d become.

Plus
she knew that this would be the weekend that changed everything. . . .

EPILOGUE

Hannah’s
Blog:

Went to the doctor again today. Just Mom and me this time.
She held my hand like she did when I was a little girl crossing the street. For
her sake as much as mine, I hoped the results were good.

Thanks to everyone who has followed me on this journey
through finding my birth parents to genetic testing. I appreciate your prayers
and support. I am pleased to report that I DO NOT HAVE THE HUNTINGTON’S GENE!
To celebrate, Mom and I have decided to backpack across Europe together this
summer.