Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (52 page)

He let himself out of the house and in the gathering darkness walked toward the massive black outline of the beech tree. Staring up into the twisted branches looming above, he wondered how much courage he actually possessed.

T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON
Jordan placed the glitter-covered construction paper cards carefully across Max and Kate’s laps before closing the van door on their cries of, “No, Olivia, you can’t touch. These are for
Owen
!”

What with the drawings, the painstakingly scribed letters, and then the glittery bands and splotches enframing the whole, the invitations had taken hours, and with each excited exclamation of “I know what Owen would like on the card!” and “Do you think this looks all right, Mommy?” fear had wrapped about her heart, squeezing it ever tighter.

“Will Owen be there, Mommy?” Kate asked after Jordan started the car and steered into the green shade of the allée.

“I don’t know, honey.” She’d given up calling him. “But if he’s not, we’ll leave it in a place where he’ll find it. Sometimes you have to do that with invitations.”

“Oh. I really hope he’s there.”

“I do, too,” Jordan managed.

“Me three! ’Cause he hasn’t seen my scar yet!”

She made a left onto Piper’s Road and only pressed lightly on the accelerator as she’d be making the next left into Hawk Hill.

Ahead, she caught of a flash of silver through the woods that bordered Hawk Hill’s drive. She gripped the steering wheel and lifted her foot off the accelerator as she saw Owen’s car brake and then turn right out of the driveway, coming toward them. She knew the instant he recognized
her minivan by the sudden braking. Oh God, was he wishing he’d made a left rather than a right-hand turn?

Her heart beat painfully in her chest as the Audi neared and then rolled to a stop, the two cars idling side by side yet heading in opposite directions. Jordan prayed this wasn’t some awful metaphor for their relationship.

When Owen lowered his window, her breath came out in a rush. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it.

They spoke simultaneously. “We were just coming to find you—”

“I had to see you—” They broke off awkwardly and she wondered whether she was going to start crying from frustration and tension.

Then Owen said, “Hawk Hill’s closer. Go up to the house. I’ll turn around.”

She nodded, trying to tamp down the ridiculous joy she felt at the idea of his car following her back up the drive to Hawk Hill. She’d obviously gone mad.

“Mommy, Owen’s behind us now!”

“That’s right.” If only he’d be
with
them … for always.

She’d already gotten out of the van when Owen turned off the Audi’s engine. She busied herself with freeing the kids from their car seats, surreptitiously wiping her damp palms against the floral print of her sundress. Straightening, she turned, and Owen was there. For a second they stared at each other in silence.

The three days since she’d seen him felt like an eternity.

He looked wonderful in a crisp white shirt and light gray slacks. His face, with its still healing cut above his cheek so dear, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. But as she had no idea if he wanted her there, she drew a steadying breath.

“Hi. Max and Kate made you something.”

The surprise in his face was echoed in his voice. “For me?”

She nodded and, swallowing the lump of emotion lodged in her throat, said to Kate. “Do you want to get down and show Owen what you made?”

Kate slid out from the van, holding the card in both her hands. Following her cue, Max and Olivia climbed down, too. All three were strangely solemn, even Olivia.

“This is for you, Owen. It’s an invitation,” Kate said, handing it to him.

His eyes moved over the invitation, taking in the drawing of a little girl on a pony in a riding ring, the band of pink glitter bordering the edge of the yellow construction paper, the painstakingly crafted letters saying,
To Owen, please come watch me ride at Crestview, from Kate
.

“Thank you, Kate.” He had to pause to clear the hoarseness from his voice before continuing, “This is the prettiest invitation I’ve ever received.”

“I made you one, too, Owen. Mommy’s not sure I can ride in the lead-line in class ’cause of my arm, but maybe I can sit on your shoulders when Kate rides. That way I’ll be able to see everything. Here, Owen.” And he shoved his drawing at him. “See, I made a picture of you and me watching. Hey, you wanna see my scar? It’s so long,” he pronounced happily, lifting his cast above his head to show off the thin red line of flesh.

Owen bent down to look at it. “That’s something all right. And I like your invitation, too.”

Jordan wondered if she was the only one who noticed he hadn’t accepted either of them.

“Hey, you’ve got a cut, too.” Max pointed to his face. “Did you have to go to the hospital?”

“No, I was lucky.”

He’d only had to go to the police station, she thought, feeling miserable.

“Max, why don’t you get the ball from the car so the three of you can play on the lawn for a few minutes until it’s time to go home?”

“You’re going back?”

“It’s getting late.” Too late, she thought sadly.

“You don’t want to come into the house? We finished all the touch-up painting. The rooms look great.”

“I’m not sure Olivia and freshly painted walls are a good match.” She tried to make her smile something more than sad. “Besides, they’ll see it soon enough.” She’d promised them that after the Open House she’d bring them over so they could go through it.

“Let’s sit on the stoop. We can watch them from there.”

She followed Owen over to the bluestone step and sat down beside him, aware of the space between their bodies. And though her gaze was trained on Kate and Max kicking the ball over the lawn, and on Olivia who was chasing it back and forth, her short legs pumping and curls bouncing, she knew that Owen was looking at her. She gripped the edge of the stone hard so as not to fling her arms about him and beg him to stay and love them, love her.

“Tim Mitchell asked me if he could come and look this place over. Before the Open House.”

Everything in Jordan went still, except the painful beating of her heart. Quietly, carefully, she spoke. “And what have you decided? Are you willing to let him?”

“No. There’s no bloody way Tim Mitchell is ever going to live in this house.”

Her head whipped round. “What?”

His expression was fierce, nearly desperate. “You can’t marry him, Jordan. I know I’m lousy parent material. It’s a given I’ll screw up—and just thinking that one day I might let Kate or Olivia get hurt the way I did Max shows what a selfish bastard I am. But I can’t give you up. I don’t know anything about being a husband or a father, but I know that no one will ever love you the way I do, damn it. If you’ll just believe in me, Jordan, I’ll prove it to you every day for the rest of our lives. Here.”

He shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small
black velvet box and pressed it into her hand. “Marry me, Jordan.”

Her trembling fingers clutched the box without opening it. No ring could mean as much as the love shining in Owen’s eyes. She threw her arms about his neck, kissing him as she whispered “Yes, yes” and “I love you” over and over again.

Their kisses lengthened and deepened as they clung to each other.

“Mommy! You and Owen are kissing!”

“Yes, that’s right, Max.” And she smiled because, although Owen had turned rather red, his arm was firmly anchored about her waist.

“Does that mean Owen’s going to marry you, Mommy?”

“Yes, Kate. I’ve asked your mom to marry me.”

“And I’ve said yes. Owen gave me a ring. Shall we look at it?” Her fingers found the seam and she lifted the lid to see a sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds winking back at her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“The stone matches your eyes in the moonlight.”

It was rather crowded with Max and Kate leaning in to peer at the ring, and of course Olivia had managed to climb onto Owen’s lap, but somehow Owen managed to slip the ring onto her finger, saying, “I love you, Jordan.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have two daddies and two mommies?”

“Yes, Kate, it does. Is that okay with you?” Jordan asked.

She nodded slowly. “I’ll make Owen an invitation so he can come to the school concert, too.”

“Thank you, Kate,” Owen managed to say in a voice thick with emotion. “I would like—” the rest of his sentence was left incomplete when Max tugged Owen’s sleeve. “Yes?”

“Are we going to live here?”

Jordan looked at Owen and smiled. “Maybe. I think we’ll have to discuss that as a family.”

“ ’Cause if we live here, Owen and I could build a tree house in that tree. A really big tree house.”

Owen paled at the suggestion. Then taking a deep breath said, “Sure, we can build one, Max. And it’s going to have really big, strong safety rails all around it.”

“Neato! Come on, Kate, let’s go see where our tree house is gonna be.” And they tore off across the lawn.

Olivia stayed put, her sneakers firmly planted on Owen’s now less-than-pristine trousers, her hands flattened against his cheeks as she stared into his face. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted one hand and squashed his nose.

For a second Owen hesitated. Then, with the beginnings of a grin, said, “Beep.”

Olivia chortled with delight.

Her heart overflowing with love, Jordan kissed them both.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank those who help ease the misery of this writer’s life. I owe my family so much for their continued patience and good humor in putting up with the crabbiness and insecurity that unfortunately go hand in hand with my writing. More thanks go to my wonderful friend Marilyn Brant for her careful reading and wise comments. It’s a brave soul who will wade through early drafts of my manuscripts. Finally, a huge thanks to the many readers who have written to me. Time and again, your enthusiasm and encouragement remind me what a joy it is to write.

Read on for an excerpt from

Trouble Me

Book Three of the Rosewood Trilogy

by
Laura Moore

Published by Ballantine Books

J
ADE
R
ADCLIFFE
had her iPod plugged in and cranked. But while the Black Eyed Peas were doing a fine job of keeping her awake after so many hours on the road, her Porsche’s windshield wipers weren’t doing squat. Even set to high, they couldn’t compete with the rain that was coming down in buckets. Route 95 had become a regular Slip ’N-Slide. While sliding over water-slickened surfaces was a favorite summer amusement of her nieces and nephews, Jade had been driving too many hours to be having any fun. Her initial “Wheees!” whenever the Porsche lost traction had turned into tired “Oh, shit”s.

The traffic had slowed to a crawl, making the driving marginally safer. But at this speed there was no way she was going to reach Rosewood tonight. When she’d left Ocala, Florida, before dawn, she’d been confident that she would reach Rosewood, her family’s home in Virginia, by dinnertime. She’d badly wanted to see them all, Margot and Travis and their two kids—Georgiana, four, and Will, six months old now and thus starting to get interesting—though Margot was so besotted she sent Jade daily email updates chronicling Will’s achievements, with photo attachments. Just as she’d done for Georgie. Jade had probably been the only college student whose computer kept running out of storage space because she had so many e-photo albums of babies staring up at brightly colored mobiles or giving toothless grins in their high chairs.

The cute munchkins populating Rosewood didn’t stop
there. Now there was also Jordan and Owen’s baby boy, Edward, nicknamed Neddy, who was named after Ned Connolly. Having worked his entire life at Rosewood Farm, Ned was like family to Jade and her sisters; Owen and Jordan’s gesture had made the old man nearly burst with pride and joy.

And when it came to being completely gaga over their new baby, Jordan and Owen rivaled Travis and Margot.