Runaway Groom (20 page)

She’d stepped way out of her comfort zone so as not to disappoint Lily. He wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her but he smiled instead. “Definitely amused.”

She pointed two fingers at him as if they were a handgun. “You tell anyone what you just heard and you’re a dead man.”

“Good to know.” But he’d just seen past the facade of the well-dressed, perfectly made-up woman who didn’t take any crap from anyone. She was like crème brûlée—once you cracked the hard topping, she was all soft inside. “Come on, Lil,” he scooped up his tired daughter, “time for a bath and bed.”

Melissa watched Lily snuggle into Scott’s chest and she had to rub her sternum to move the heavy feeling that had settled there. If Scott had thanked her once for helping him out today, he’d thanked her ten times but she’d loved being in the thick of the party action with the little girls. There’d been a couple of challenging moments when she’d had to remind one of the guests it was Lily’s party and she’d had to think on her feet when Eva Sorenson had asked why Lily talked funny and why she wasn’t wearing a party dress. Apart from that it had been lots of fun but now it was over and Lily was heading to bed.

This was her cue to depart.

She drained her glass of wine and stood up. “I guess I better leave you to it.”

“You don’t have to,” Scott said quickly, sounding like he really meant it. “I was hoping you’d stay for a thank-you supper. I’ve made a beef stew and I have a nice Zinfandel to go with.”

She thought about going home to her empty house. All that waited for her there was dusting and dishes and here was Scott offering to cook. “I guess I have to eat so why not?”

“Great.” He got a sheepish look. “How would you feel about reheating the stew and peeling the potatoes?”

“Hot potato,” Lily sang sleepily, not even lifting her head off Scott’s shoulder.

The heavy feeling in her chest gained another pound. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Thanks. I’ll be about twenty minutes.” He looked down at Lily. “Say good-night to Missy.”

“Ni-ni, Miffy.”

“Sleep tight, Lily.” She watched Scott’s retreating back for a few seconds before entering the tiny kitchen and turning on Scott’s MP3 player. A classical piano piece swelled in the cramped space and she started clearing away the remains of the party so she could find counter space to peel the potatoes. Just as she was opening the oven, a jarring rap song came on and she almost dropped the casserole dish.
Rap?
She wondered what else he had on his playlist.

Having completed her tasks, she opened the wine and took a wander around the small living room looking at photos, picking them up and setting them back down. There were a few of Scott and Lily together—at the park, at the zoo, with a Christmas tree—one with Lily and a man who looked like an older version of Scott and a larger group photo that she assumed was Scott’s extended family. She found herself looking for a photo of Lily’s mother and wondered if the picture she had in her hand was it.

“That’s my adopted sister.”

Scott’s quiet voice surprised her and she set the photo down before turning around feeling caught red-handed. “She needs a dust.”

“We all need a dust.” He poured himself a glass of wine.

“Will Lily sleep after all the excitement?”

“She’s a great eater and sleeper.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Now
that
I got to brag about at playgroup.”

If he’d taken Lily to playgroup then he’d probably been raising her alone for a long time. Screw waiting to be told, she’d just ask. “Does Lily see much of her mom?”

“She doesn’t see her at all,” he said curtly before walking into the kitchen.

She followed and leaned against the counter watching him slam the masher into the cooked potatoes, the muscles of his forearms bunching. He whipped butter and milk furiously into the potatoes, turning the three ingredients into soft, creamy mashed potatoes with a tension and fraught energy she’d never associated with him.

She set the table with silverware and trivets for the hot dishes, all the time thinking about a woman who could dent Scott’s usually calm aura.

He brought over the stew, the mashed potatoes and a green salad and they served themselves from the center of the table. When they were both seated with steaming food on their plates, she continued from where she’d left off. “Why doesn’t Lily see her mother?”

“Because it’s better this way.”

He sounded so resolute. So hard. It struck her as being utterly out of character with the gentle and caring guy she was getting to know. She wasn’t certain she agreed with him on this parenting point. She’d had friends who’d been separated from one of their parents by the other and it hadn’t worked in their favor. “How is it better? I don’t know any kid who wouldn’t prefer to have both parents in their life.”

He put down his fork with a clatter. “I know you have strong opinions on just about everything, Melissa, but this time you don’t have enough information to have an opinion at all.”

She refilled his wineglass and then met his ire-filled gaze. “So tell me so I do.”

His mouth tightened. “It’s pretty simple really. Margaret doesn’t want to be part of Lily’s life.”

She didn’t know what to say.

He raised his brows. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t.” She pushed a piece of beef around her plate. “How can a mother not want her child?”

“That’s the exact question I asked myself for two years but I’m over it now.” He fiddled with the stem of his wineglass. “Sure, I worry for Lily but answer me this—isn’t it better to have no mother than one who can’t hide her distaste and disappointment in you?”

An ache throbbed deep down inside her. “Your ex-wife couldn’t love Lily because of her Down syndrome?”

He shrugged. “Margaret’s a perfectionist. She’d be hard-pressed to love a normal child.”

“Then why did she have one in the first place?” Her words came out with an accompanying anger she hadn’t anticipated. An anger tied up with her own lack of a child.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We weren’t married when Margaret got pregnant. She’d just been accepted into the Ann Arbor symphony orchestra, second desk, which was step one of her plan to become first violin in an orchestra somewhere, preferably Boston or Chicago. Ironically, going on the dates, Lily was probably conceived the night we celebrated that success.”

Melissa’s stomach cramped. “So Lily wasn’t planned?”

“No. She was a total surprise and we got married. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy or an easy time. Margaret was stressing how she was going to keep up her practice, deal with touring and a baby. I couldn’t get her to see that between the two of us, we could balance our careers and one child. God, I remember saying, ‘You’re being a drama queen. How hard can one baby be?’”

Irony twisted his mouth. “When Lily was born needing far more help than the average baby, Margaret didn’t cope.”

“I can imagine it would have been a huge shock.” She hooked his gaze with hers. “I don’t think anyone goes into parenthood thinking they’re going to have a child with a disability.”

“You got that right, especially a woman who’d barely come around to the idea of being a mother, period, let alone the mother of a child who isn’t perfect.” He sighed, his eyes filling with memories. “She went on antidepressants so she could attempt to function and I picked up the slack. When Lily was six weeks old, Margaret’s doctor suggested she return to work in an attempt to help lift the depression. My next concert tour dates hadn’t been scheduled and my agent was arguing with venues so I took over at home.”

He rubbed his face and slowly shook his head. “I didn’t know what hit me. I had a wife who barely spoke to me, a baby with a heart condition that scared me shitless and a daily schedule of early intervention programs that exhausted both me and Lily. On top of all of that was the normal baby stuff like bottles and diapers.”

It was nothing like what she imagined being the parent of a newborn would be like and her heart went out to all three of them. “It sounds like a tough, tough time.”

He met her gaze. “I’ve had better days.”

She wondered if he’d been the one to pull the pin on the marriage. “How old was Lily when you separated?”

“We didn’t make it to her first birthday. When Lily was eleven months old, Margaret got on a Tuesday-morning flight to go audition for the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Lily and I waved her off from Detroit with a promise to meet her plane on Thursday. She never came back.”

Never came back.
“But she’s seen Lily at least once since, right?”

He shook his head. “Margaret’s life is all about Margaret. Believe me, things are better this way. Lily needs to know she’s loved and adored and I love her to bits. She’s my joy and my delight. She makes me laugh and she teaches me more than I teach her.”

His love for his daughter rolled into her and she gave his hand a quick squeeze, hating how she’d been so quick to jump to conclusions about him the first night she’d met him. “And I’m guessing you haven’t had another concert tour?”

“Hey, I’ve played to many an appreciative playgroup.”

His irony downplayed the seriousness of his career-ending decision to raise his child. She thought about how much Lily had enjoyed her first party today even though she’d often been a beat behind the other little girls. The glow of delight on her face when she blew out her birthday candles stayed with her. “You’re the most amazing man I think I’ve ever met. You gave up your career for Lily.”

“Lily needs me.”

And there it was. The simple and yet heartbreaking truth. Sometimes life totally sucked. She stood up and went and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting to touch him. “So exactly how heavy a sleeper is Lily?”

He grinned up at her. “Very.”

“Good, but I won’t stay the night.”

“Thank you.”

His words should have reassured her. They almost did.

Chapter Seventeen

Boneless and panting, Amy eased herself gently off Ben, kissed him and then rolled in next to him. “That was a perfect afternoon delight. Thank you.”

He grinned, tangling his hand gently in her hair. “Anytime.”

She drew small circles on his chest, loving being cuddled up next to him. “It was especially thoughtful of you to lend my parents your bike so they were gone all day.”

“That’s me. Mr. Generosity.” He stroked her cheek. “I’m just trying to get in sweet with your dad so it doesn’t feel like Antarctic temperatures whenever we meet in the great room.”

Her heart trembled at his thoughtfulness and she had to work hard to ignore it. “It was nice of Ella and Al to invite them to supper too. It gives me a few more hours to work on Janey’s gown and then I’ll be ready for the final fitting.”

His green eyes hooked her gaze and took no prisoners. “You need to tell your folks about your job and the dress.”

She tensed, not wanting to have this conversation again. “I’ve told you why I can’t do that.”

“I know and I don’t agree, but you haven’t factored in the fact that Ella knows about the dress.”

Horrified, she sat up fast. “Ella knows?”

“Well I think she does. Last week I jumped into a conversation when Ella mentioned your sewing skills.”

“Last week?” She heard the screech in her voice. “And you’ve only just thought to tell me now?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. You know how I feel about lying.”

“I’m not lying. I’m just not mentioning it.”

“Lexie didn’t mention her sexuality and it totally screwed me up. Tell your parents now before they find out and everything is ten times worse.”

She pictured talking to her parents.
Mom
,
Dad
,
I
lost my prestigious job that makes you so proud of me and makes up for the fact I’ve hardly ever had a boyfriend and my personal life sucks.
Oh
,
and I’m also being blackmailed by Jonathon and I can’t get an interview anywhere.

Nothing could be worse than that.

She bit her knuckle thinking about the lie Ben had unwittingly lived with and the fallout of it. “I’ll tell them about the dress. Happy?”

Reproach scudded through his eyes.

If she’d wanted absolution from him on that point, she didn’t get it.

* * *

“You ready, eh?” Al sat astride the monstrous bike with a grin on his face the width of Texas.

“My picnic will be squished as flat as a bug in those saddlebags,” Ella said, clutching her basket and at straws, while looking for a way to get out of this ride. “I’ll take the car and meet you there.”

“Oh, no. You promised,” Al said, getting off the bike with an ease that belied his age. “I guarantee you no squished subs.” He relieved her of the basket and carefully packed the sandwiches and drinks.

She held her hand out for the empty basket but he ignored her and instead strode up to her porch, denying her the excuse of retreating with it. As he bent over, safely depositing it under a chair, she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in black leather pants.

She’d known Al Swenson for most of her adult life and she’d never noticed his butt before. She immediately gave herself a shake. Today wasn’t the time to start noticing things like that.

He walked back to her and said, “Let’s rock ‘n’ roll.”

The idea of rolling made her more anxious than ever. “Where’s my helmet?”

“Aw, Ella, you’ll enjoy it more without one.”

“I’ll barely enjoy it with one.”

He unclipped it from the saddlebag and placed the helmet on her head, his fingers brushing her chin as he adjusted the strap. He leaned in. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Surprisingly, it was. She studied the bike. “Where do I sit?”

“There.” He pointed to a very small seat that seemed tacked on as afterthought given the size of the driver’s seat.

“You have got to be kidding me?”

He laughed. “You’re tiny, Ella, so you’ll be fine.”

He got on the bike, kicked down and suddenly the engine roared to life. She jumped. Even with the padding of the helmet over her ears, the roar of the engine was deafening.

Al turned to her with a grin. “Put your hand on my shoulder and get on,” he yelled as he pointed downward to the exhaust. “Don’t burn your leg.”

“Burn my leg?” Her rising fear almost choked her. Gripping his shoulder like it was the only thing between her and certain death, she managed to throw her leg over the bike. Al pointed to where she should put her feet and she gripped his waist, feeling like she was perched rather than sitting on the pillion seat and petrified she was going to fall off. Powerful vibrations ran up and down her legs and unlike in a car, she felt like she wasn’t just sitting on the bike but it was part of her. She didn’t know if she liked the sensation or not.

And then they were moving slowly down the street. She didn’t dare move in case she made the bike wobble and she’d barely got used to not having the security of a car around her when Al turned onto the county road. The bike took off, the increase in speed sending her backward and she almost vomited in her mouth. Trees whipped past so close and so fast that everything was a green blur and she closed her eyes.

Bad idea.
Without being able to see anything she felt nauseous and more like she could fall off any second so she opened her eyes again. She yelled, “Slow down,” and immediately heard her words whipped away from her.

The bike raced down the blacktop, going so fast that the white lines of the road seemed to join up into one continuous line. She moved her gaze back to the trees. Nope, it didn’t help so she stared at Al’s back, seeing a steady, blur-free black. She was just about to try to tell him to turn back when he slowed and turned onto the rustic dirt road.

They hit a pothole and she screamed.

Al said something but she couldn’t hear it over the engine and the pounding dread in her ears. Suddenly and blessedly, the beast stopped moving and Al turned around.

“Ella, you gotta relax or you’re gonna tip us both off the bike.”

“Relax?” She stared at him gob smacked. “How can I relax when I’m terrified?”

“The more you fight the bike, the more you’re gonna hate it. Riding a bike’s like dancing and you’re a fabulous dancer, Ella.”

She ignored the compliment that spun traitorously through her, making her feel giddy and she sharply reminded herself she was no longer a girl. “This is nothing like dancing.”

“Sure it is. You move with the rhythm of the bike. Lean into the bends instead of fighting them.”

“I want to go back.”

“Ella, what the hell is wrong with you?” Al growled. “You’re one of the most resilient women I know. You raised three kids; hell, you organized Ron for over thirty years, you pushed Whitetail to get this wedding business up and running, and not once in all the time you nursed Ron did I hear you say you wanted to quit. So why are you quitting on this?”

“None of that scared me like this does.” Only she knew it wasn’t the bike that scared her. It was Al. He’d been acting different lately and she didn’t want things to change.

“Come on,” he soothed. “Lisa and Todd are expecting us. Tell you what? I’ll go slow and you lean into the bends.”

Before she could object or argue, he started off. This time the trees stayed in focus and she didn’t have the same sense that she was going to fall off. The sunshine warmed her face and leaves floated down around them on the breeze, their message loud and clear—winter was coming. The fresh scent of pine was strong mixing in with marsh mud and although she couldn’t hear the birdsong, she could see them. A flock of Canada geese flew overhead and she followed their flight path, her view unobstructed.

She was right in the middle of nature rather than boxed out of it like in a car.

The bike sped up some but it didn’t bother her. She was too busy wondering what the red flowers were they’d just passed. Al’s right shoulder moved against her as if to say,
look
and she glanced up, seeing the bend up ahead. Fighting every urge to stay rigid, she pressed her body against Al’s broad and comforting back and moved with him.

The weight of the bike shifted and she went with it.

It felt like freedom and she wanted to feel it again.

* * *

Amy dug into the tub of popcorn that her father passed her, loving the way salt and butter conspired to make it taste so damn good. The two of them were in the home theater watching a documentary on Australian marsupials that Todd had found in the Rasmussens’ vast DVD collection.

“This is just like the old days,” Todd said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Amy laughed. “Our couch and TV weren’t quite in the same league as this though.”

“True enough but there’s money to be made in the law it seems. You’ve got yourself a job in a good firm and I’m so proud of you.”

Guilt tumbled through her and she shoved another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Funny how this show hasn’t mentioned drop bears,” Todd said with a grin.

She shot him a sideways glance. “What’s Ben told you about drop bears?”

“That you believed him for a bit but then you got him good with the flour the day we arrived. That’s my girl.” He sipped his soda. “I didn’t expect to like him, Amy, but he’s okay.”

Damned with faint praise.
She laughed tightly. “You’re only saying that because he bribed you into liking him by letting you and Mom ride his bike.”

“Well, there is that,” he said with a smile before sobering. “Even so, he’s educated, well mannered and the only thing I can hold against him is this extended vacation thing. There’s something not quite right about it.”

“There you two are,” Lisa said from behind them.

She took a seat next to Amy as her father said, “We were just chatting about Ben.”

Amy caught the look pass between her parents and realized way too late she was suddenly sandwiched between them and all exits had just slammed shut. This wasn’t a DVD viewing, it was an ambush. “His arm’s a lot better and Al’s loaned him a car,” she said, trying to keep the focus away from her.

“He’d be unwise to ride his bike too soon,” Lisa said. “I guess he’ll be staying here longer than you. Surely the office needs you back?”

Her heart rate picked up. “Actually, I’ve taken some vacation.”

“Oh, Amy.” Her mother’s look of disappointment slugged her. “Vacation to be with Ben? This really isn’t like you and I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.”

“I didn’t take vacation time because of Ben, Mom,” she said, hearing Ben’s voice in the back of her mind. “I took it because I’m making a wedding gown for a Whitetail bride and to spend extra time with you and Daddy.”

Tell me lies
,
tell me sweet little lies
... crooned the voice in head.

Her father looked askance. “A wedding gown? Why?”

She couldn’t tell him the whole truth but she gave him something she’d learned from making Janey’s gown. “It was one of those things of being in the right place at the right time and I was able to help them out. I’m really enjoying it. Remember how I sewed all the time when I was at high school and college?”

“But it’s just a vacation thing, right?” Her father sounded worried she was going to ditch the law for dressmaking.

“Totally.” She rubbed his arm to reassure him. To reassure herself.

Lisa didn’t look reassured at all. “Sweetie, I’ve been doing some reading. I think you’re having a quarter-life crisis.”

Amy wanted to duck to avoid her mother’s penetrating gaze. “Mom, I’m thirty-two. I’m way passed my quarter life.”

“Yes, but your life’s all about work. I guess we were hoping that things with that lawyer Jonathon you talked about over the last few months were going to develop into something more serious.”

Oh it’s pretty serious
,
Mom.
Just not how you think.

“Mom, you really need to stop reading the self-help guides. Not every woman needs a man in their life full-time.”

“Most want one.”

Her mother’s bald words hung between them, dripping with the truth she’d spent her life denying. She went on the attack. “I can’t win, Mom. You’re not happy when I’m single and you’re not happy about this thing with Ben.”

“Thing?” Her mother winced. “See, that’s exactly the problem. I just want you to be happy.”

“Of course she’s happy,” Todd said firmly. “Being a lawyer is all she ever talked about and she’s good at what she does.”

“But it’s not a balanced life,” Lisa argued back.

Her stomach clenched so hard that it moved the popcorn upward until it sat midchest in a hard lump. Even when her parents thought she was a successful lawyer, they still saw her as needing help and talked about her life with a pitying look in their eyes. And sadly they had good reason—a reason she was never going to confess to them or anyone else.

“I’m sitting right here, Mom, Dad. I’m not twenty anymore. I’m all grown up. It’s my life so stop discussing it. Please.”

She hit the volume on the remote, bringing up the dulcet tones of the narrator who was explaining the reproductive cycle of the kangaroo. Hiding out in a pouch for eight months sounded awesome.

* * *

Scott lovingly watched Lily as she ran ahead of him and Melissa on the trail, her yellow rubber boots kicking at piles of fallen leaves. “She’s never happier than when she’s playing with leaves.”

“There’s nothing better.” Melissa’s blue eyes sparkled. “Especially when someone’s just finished raking them into a big pile.”

“I bet you were a handful when you were a kid.”

She laughed. “My mother tells me that one day, when I have a child of my own, I will know exactly how much grief I gave her.”

Lily turned around and pointed to a big pile of leaves on the side of the trail. “Miffy, look.”

“Now that
is
a big pile,” she said as her leather boots sprayed leaves everywhere.

Lily joined her with a squeal of delight.

They were on their way back to the car after choosing a Halloween pumpkin from Keith and Lindsay’s farm. Scott had seen a poster up in town about the pumpkin train and he’d asked Melissa about it one morning when he was getting dressed after what had become regular yet amazing sex at her place.