In From the Cold (17 page)

“What will happen with Yvette?” Jason asked thoughtfully, pulling me from my reverie.

“We’re hoping to adopt her.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “That was fast. So you and Claire…?” His question hung in the air.

“I hope so. I’ve asked her to marry me, but she hasn’t said yes yet. Yvette’s grandfather has said he’ll give us custody if Claire agrees, and Sharon asked us to take care of her. We thought it best for Yvette to stay with me for now regardless. Hopefully, Claire will agree soon.”

“I see.” He stole another assessing look at me. “That’s a pretty overwhelming proposition for her, two small girls and a husband in one fell swoop. Not too surprising that she’d balk.”

“No, I’m not surprised. But what we could have if she said yes…well, that’s pretty amazing too.”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Does she love you?”

“She says she does.”

“But?”

“But I don’t think she trusts herself.” Saying it out loud made me realize I’d figured out the problem.

Jason shook his head. “Man, that’s too bad. It’s hard enough to prove they should trust you, but it’s even harder when they’re fighting themselves.” He clapped me on the back and smiled. “But if you love each other, she’ll come around. I have faith in you.”

“Thanks,” I said, and meant it.

Jason started to walk away. “We’ll contact you soon. And hang in there.” He stopped for a minute and grinned. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll figure out she can’t live without you too.”

I hoped Jason was right, but my time was running out. My jet was scheduled to arrive tomorrow, so I had one more night to convince Claire. My clues left around the house hadn’t worked, and other than begging her on my hands and knees to stay, I was fresh out of ideas. Moments later, however, help from a surprising source suddenly appeared—Christine André.

I’d not seen Christine since the trip to the Science Museum, except from across the room. I thought she had taken the hint and changed her plans, but now she bore down on me, the crowd so much flotsam in her wake. Claire’s eyes narrowed as Christine, elegant in black mink coat and matching hat, sliced through the crowd, and I felt a tingle of hope. Claire was not indifferent at least. I could work with that.

“Drake,
cara mia
. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to deal with all this. How sad for you. Miles and Sharon, they were good friends, no?” A ridiculous Italian accent had replaced her fake French one, like different shoes for different occasions. I wanted to laugh, but then I noticed the expression on Claire’s face, her eyes now slits as she handed Yvette off to Marilyn Fritz and walked across the room to join us.
Better and better.

I tamped down my smile as Claire slipped in beside me.

“Claire, you remember Christine.” Christine ran her gaze over Claire and dismissed her without so much as a blink. I fought a chuckle, and Christine placed her hand on my arm, squeezing it gently. Claire’s eyes darted to the movement, and she pressed her lips together. Was she clenching her fists?

“I have been so worried for you, Drake dearest. You should have come to me. So wretched and sad. But love…” She sighed heavily. “Sometimes, it takes ze people like that, and some of us never truly get over it.” Christine gazed soulfully into my eyes, her finger caressing my jaw. “If only we could go back…”

“Back where? To New Jersey?” I mocked, and Claire almost snorted. It was Christine’s turn to glare.

“That was always your problem, Drake. No…romance in your soul.” She seemed to catch herself, then calmly adjusted her hat and her purse like pieces of armor. Then she leaned in again. “But perhaps we could…” She tried to angle me away from Claire, but Claire wedged into my other side, slipping her free arm around my waist. Christine stepped back, startled. I felt like a toy mouse pulled between two cats. Great!

“Drake has plenty of romance, don’t you, darling?” Claire cooed, batting her lashes adoringly up at me. “Why, you wouldn’t believe the thoughtful little
gifts
he leaves me around the house.”

Like glue and twist ties and staplers and…

“Oh, I have my moments,” I said, tucking Claire closer, “with the right woman. With
one
woman,” I emphasized, kissing her hair.

“I see.” Christine fumed, any hint of European accent gone. She abruptly released my arm. “I wish you joy.” Then she stalked away.

I grinned down at Claire, keeping her pinned to my side, and hope flickered in my chest. “Thanks, St. George.”

“You’re welcome.” She lifted her face and grinned. “You really attract the dragons, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.” I put both arms around her and pulled her close. “I need a protector.”

She straightened my tie, refusing to look at me. “What if I’m just another dragon in the end?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Her hand stilled on my tie. “I’m not much of a risk-taker.”

“I know. But life is all about risks, Claire. And a chance to live my life with you is worth it.” I lifted her chin and forced her to meet my eyes. “Think about that. Think very hard. Trying again is hard for me too, but I know we’re worth it, and in your heart, you know it too. I love you.” I kissed her forehead, and after a moment, against my every inclination, I let her go.

We were waiting in the terminal for my jet to finish its pre-boarding safety checks. We were down to zero hour. The girls were running around, live wires, and I suggested the child harnesses. I had objected when I’d first seen children in the things—little dog leashes—but I understood the value of them now. The girls needed to run off some steam before they had to sit for hours, and this way I could keep them close. They were also essential to my plan.

Right on cue, Suzie spoke up. “Miss Claire, I need to potty.”

Claire had been quiet all morning, busily efficient, as if movement could keep her from feeling. Her eyes were red rimmed, and I suspected we’d left some wet pillows behind. She looked sad, but stoic, determined to keep a brave face for the girls. She had agreed to ride with us on my jet, but once we landed in Baltimore, she still planned to return to her sister’s house. I still hoped to change her mind.

At Suzie’s demand, she immediately stood up. “Good idea.” She held her hand out to Yvette. “You should try to go, too, honey.”

“Okay.” Yvette and Suzie both giggled.

“I’ll come too,” I said. “You might need some help.”

“If you want to, but I can handle it.”

“No, I want to come.”

We started walking toward the restrooms, the terminal crowded with visitors. Several people walked by with dogs running free. One old lady commented indignantly as we passed, “What kind of place is this? They have children on leashes, but not the dogs!”

Claire stopped in mid-stride and turned to her. “And who would you rather lose? A dog—or a child?”

Smacked down, the old bat sniffed and turned away while I stifled a laugh. Claire flashed a rueful grin at me, but it broke the somber mood we’d slogged through all morning. I had one more shot, and I had to get it right this time.

When we neared the restroom, the girls started skipping in circles around us. I moved into position.

“Girls,” Claire said, “you need to walk straight. You’re tangling the harnesses.”

Claire might as well have said “go”. Both girls took off, squealing in delight, wrapping the leads completely around us until we were one big tangled ball of legs, arms and leashes. Like dervishes in a cartoon, they had us tied together from ankles to necks.

“Girls! What the heck…” Claire sputtered, but she couldn’t stop the merriment that flashed in her eyes.

“Hold on.” I laughed. “We’re going over.” Onlookers chuckled and shook their heads as we tumbled to the floor.

“What are you doing? Girls! Unwind us!” Claire thrashed her arms, trying to loosen the bands. The girls sat collapsed against us, crowing over their handiwork.

“Claire. Stop struggling. I asked them to.”

Slowly she stilled. “What?” she whispered.

My arms were strapped around her and I kissed her. I tried to prop my arms up, worried about crushing Claire, but the leashes were wrapped too tightly to move.

“If this is what we have to do to keep you with us, then we will, even if we have to hogtie you.”

“Drake—”

“You won’t listen to me, so we’re showing you. The answer to the game—the glue, the stapler, the hammer, the leashes—you’re stuck with us. Whatever it takes, we aren’t letting you go. We love you.”

She closed her eyes and tried to shake her head, but I stopped her with a kiss. “I love you. The girls love you. Marry me. Say yes.”

The crowd was growing around us.

She shook her head. “You’ll be trapped, I’ll be trapped. If it goes wrong, we’ll both—”

“Learn from our mistakes. Like you said about these harnesses. We’ll be close and safe, but with room to move.” I kissed her again. “Say yes.”

She shook her head, but only a little this time.

I kissed her again—harder, deeper. I was determined to break down her defenses, one kiss at a time.

This time when I lifted my head, she was smiling. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Say yes!” The others laughed.

I smiled into her eyes and squeezed her. “Say yes.”

“If I do, will you let me up?”

I kissed her again—very hard, very deep, very long. “Absolutely.”

She giggled, and wriggled her hands up to palm my cheeks. “Then yes,” she said, and kissed me.

Thank God.

The girls and the crowd of bystanders cheered, and slowly we untangled our crazy ball of family. For family we were now, our own new phoenix rising from the ashes. When we were standing, I pulled Claire into my arms for another kiss, but in a few seconds felt two familiar tugs. I looked down at our little girls.

“Potty,” the girls chimed in urgent unison, and I handed the reins over to Claire, along with my heart.

“Still want to come?” Claire smiled brilliantly at me, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I was too happy and too relieved.

“No, I’ll wait here.”

She reached up and kissed me, then tapped me on the cheek. “That’s all right. I’ll bring you one of their special trophies. Remember the plane?” She winked and then waved as she led them into the restroom. I waved back, and then with a grin, I remembered.

Shit.

About the Author

Meg Adams is a true blue “Valley Girl”—the Shenandoah Valley, that is. When she’s not herding kids, she’s herding cats, or gardening, knitting, or reading. You can find her many an afternoon reading on her shaded porch and waving to bicyclists as they crest the hill, or possibly picking tomatoes in the garden or peaches in the orchard. But in the morning, she’ll be writing. She lives with her husband, two sons and three cats in a hundred-year-old farmhouse, her other (continual) work in progress.

She also loves to hear from readers. Check out her website at
www.megadamsauthor.com
or email her at
[email protected]
.

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