Some Enchanted Season (36 page)

He got his coat and went outside to slip up behind her and nuzzle her cold cheek. She gave him a smile so sweet that it made his muscles tighten, so full of love that it made his heart ache. Blind love. Totally-unaware-of-the-truth love. It would kill him to lose her again.

No problem that love couldn’t overcome, no sin that couldn’t be forgiven
. He reminded himself of that before making an effort to push the fears back into the darkest corner of his mind.

“What time is Tom coming over?”

“Around eight. That’ll give us time to eat, then walk to the square.” Though they called it a midnight service, it actually began two hours earlier and ended at twelve. It was hard to imagine that Tom—the shark, as Maggie was fond of describing him—was willing to attend such a service. He had, in fact, received the invitation with a moment of blank silence before awkwardly agreeing.

But a year ago, wouldn’t Ross’s own attendance have been met with equal surprise? That night he’d meant to be in his office working when the church bells tolled the midnight conclusion to the worship service.

Instead, he’d been waiting to find out whether his wife would live or die.

This year he would be telling her how much he loved her—and praying that he would never lose her.

He followed her along the sidewalk as she lit the farolitos. When she finished, they stood on the sidewalk out front and gazed at the results. Maggie sighed contentedly. “Isn’t it amazing how things change? Last Christmas Eve I lit the farolitos by myself while I waited for the service in the square, and I wanted everything to be perfect for the first Christmas in my new house, but I knew it wasn’t going to be. I mean, you and me in the same room for an entire evening. Civility was definitely out of the question.”

Far colder than the weather justified, Ross stared at her. He felt sick inside—so sick that his hands went numb. “You—did you remember that, or are you guessing?”

“I—I remembered … I think.” Her expression turned more serious. “You don’t want me to remember, do you?”

“I—it’s not—” Breaking off, he clenched his jaw and said nothing.

“Why not? Do you think if I remember what we argued about, I’ll leave you again?”

All he could manage was a hoarse whisper. “You did before.”

“Before was different. I was going to leave you anyway, even if we hadn’t argued.
You
were going to leave
me.
” She slapped his arm, but it was merely a gesture, lacking force. “I
love
you, Ross. I want to be married to you. I want to live the rest of my life with you. And I want you to feel the same.”

“I do!”

“Except where I’m looking ahead to forever, you’re expecting me to walk out any moment now. Do you know how insulting that is? Do you know how that makes me feel to know that you don’t trust me?”

“I trust you, Maggie, but I know what happened last year. You don’t.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “So tell me.”

Tell her. It was through his own stupid carelessness last year that she’d learned his secret in the first place, and she’d almost died for it. If he told her now—bluntly, without mercy—
he
would be the one whose
survival was at stake. He’d made her walk away from him once. He couldn’t do it again. “I can’t.”

“Then forget it. I have.”

“But someday it’s going to come back, and—”

“And we’ll deal with it.” She hugged him tightly.

“Have a little faith in us, Ross. We’re strong. We can survive anything.”

He slid his hands into her hair and held her for a hard, desperate kiss. “I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what, I’ll always love you.”

“And I’ll always love you,” she whispered back. “
Always
.” She started toward the house. Halfway there, she turned back. “Are you coming?”

“In a minute.”

She came back for one more sweet kiss, touched his face gently, then went inside. He stood there in the cold, staring at the closed door.

She was going to remember. He felt it in some sick, hurtful place deep inside. She was going to remember, and all her talk about trust and faith and always would mean nothing. Love would turn to hate, as it had before, affection to scorn, and there was nothing in the world he could do to stop it. He couldn’t tell her the truth and hasten the inevitable, and he couldn’t walk away before it happened. All he could do was wait and love her and hope that that would count for something in the end.

He didn’t think it would.

Feeling anxious and edgy, he started walking. He had no destination in mind but wanted only to burn off a little energy, to ease a little panic. When he came to
the square in the center of town, he automatically turned into it.

In a few more hours it would be filled with people—virtually everyone in town attended the service—but at the moment it was deserted. The paths leading to the gazebo were dusted with snow, and drifts were piled around the shrubs. He walked through ankle-deep snow to the nearest bench, brushed it clean, then sat down.

Helplessness was a new feeling for him, and he didn’t like it one bit. He was a powerful man accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. Even when Maggie’s condition was at its most critical, every one of his demands had been filled almost instantly. A pilot willing to fly through a snowstorm to get her to the trauma center in Buffalo—no problem. Calling out the top doctors in the country on Christmas Day—piece of cake. The absolute best care money could buy—a done deal.

But he couldn’t demand or buy his way out of this. There wasn’t enough power or money in the world to find a happy resolution to this problem. She was going to remember, and she was never going to forgive him.

“You look a little lonesome sitting here. Mind if I join you?”

The question came from a slender woman with long, brown hair and familiar eyes. Noelle, nursery clerk, hospital volunteer, and first-class meddler. He wanted to tell her yes, he did mind. He wanted to be alone with his misery. Instead, he glanced at the opposite end of the bench, then away. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“It’s the snow. It muffles footsteps.” She dusted the bench, then sat down. “Merry Christmas.”

His only response was a grunt.

“Are you and Maggie coming to the midnight service?”

“Yes.” He would be better off putting some distance between them, but it was too late for that. Hadn’t he promised himself just that evening that he was going to make the best of however much time they had?

“How is she?”

He glanced distractedly at Noelle. “She’s fine.”

“How are you? And don’t say fine, because anyone with eyes in her head can see that’s not so.” She turned on the bench so she was facing him. “She’s begun remembering, hasn’t she?”

“A couple of thin—how’d you know that?”

“You’re worried that she’ll remember what led to her leaving a year ago, aren’t you?”

He answered even though he didn’t want to. “What I did was unforgivable.”

“Human beings have a tremendous capacity for forgiveness. As flawed as they are, they need it.” Her smile appeared, then disappeared. “Nothing’s unforgivable, Ross, especially for someone who truly loves you. Like Maggie.”

“What I did was,” he insisted, but she made a dismissive gesture.

“Two weekends. Three encounters. Bad judgment, immoral, certainly wrong, but not worthy of sacrificing the rest of your lives together—all the happiness, all the love, all the babies. And that’s what you’re doing, Ross.
You’re risking your future. You’re just waiting for it to blow up in your face.”

“What—how did you—” Suspicion tightened his muscles. “Who are you?”

“Just someone trying to be a friend.”

“How did you know—”

She laid her hand on his arm. “Your affair was wrong, Ross. It was a terrible mistake, and you’ve all paid the price. Last year your marriage wasn’t strong enough to survive. Is it strong enough now?”

The answer was too painful to give aloud. Instead, he simply, bleakly shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

“I lied to her. I betrayed her. How could she forgive that?”

“What if the situation were reversed? If it was Maggie who’d had the affair, who’d lied to and betrayed you. Could you forgive her?”

“There would be nothing to forgive because she would never do it.”

“That’s what she thinks about you.”

He knew she was right. Maggie had even said so one day over burnt burgers in the kitchen.
I always knew that there would never be another woman
. Which would be harder for her to hear? That there
had
been another woman? Or that she’d misjudged him so badly?

“What if the unthinkable happened? What if Maggie felt lonely and empty and hungry for just a little affection in her life—affection that you’d refused her? What if she found that affection with another man and, later, you found out? Could you forgive her?”

He would hate it like hell—would
hate
that another man had touched her, had kissed her, had found that incredible satisfaction with her. But could he forgive it?

If it was a choice between forgiving or living without her, no doubt. He’d lived without her before. He would gladly forgive a dozen affairs before doing it again.

Noelle smiled gently. “You could. You would. But, of course, you’re a kinder, more compassionate, more loving, and generous person than she is.”

“Not in this lifetime,” he said scornfully. “Maggie is the best, sweetest, most honorable person I know.”

“Then my guess is that she can forgive too. She’s a bright woman. Once she gets past the hurt of discovery, she’ll know what she has to do. She’ll do the right thing.”

He stared at the gazebo, shining with white lights in the dark night, weighing the confidence in Noelle’s voice, hearing the certainty in Maggie’s.

I
love
you, Ross. I want to be married to you. I want to live the rest of my life with you
.

Have a little faith in us. We’re strong. We can survive anything
.

I’ll always love you
. Always.

Having faith. Believing in her and her love. Giving her credit for knowing her feelings as well as he knew his own. Could he do it?

Did he have any choice?

Noelle stood up. “You’d better go home. I imagine Maggie’s wondering where you’ve gone.”

He stood up, too, and took a few steps before turning back. “How did you know …?”

With a smile, she shook her finger warningly. “A little faith, Mr. McKinney.”

When she offered her hand, he accepted it, clasping it between both of his. “Thank you. I needed—”

“I know. Go on now. And have a merry Christmas.”

He’d taken only a few more steps, when she spoke again. “I wasn’t kidding about the rest of your lives—the happiness, the love, the babies. Bringing a longed-for babe into a loving home is never selfish, Ross. Maggie will be a wonderful mother, and in spite of your fears, in spite of your father, you’ll be a wonderful father. Your sons and daughters, along with Maggie, will be the brightest blessings in your life.”

Ross stared at her. For one odd moment when she’d spoken—
the brightest blessings
—it seemed as if the night had lightened around him. Maybe it had been the burden around his heart that had lightened, because when she said he would be a good father, he’d felt the impact of truth. She believed what she’d said, and for some reason her believing allowed him to believe it too. “How—”

She smiled sweetly, that bright, million-watt smile. “Faith,” she said with a firm nod. Raising one mittened hand, she wiggled her fingers in a wave. “Go home, Ross. Your wife is waiting.”

He nodded. Home was exactly where he wanted to be.

He cut across the snow to the nearest square of shoveled sidewalk, then looked back. Noelle had wasted no time leaving the park. She was already out of sight. And, oddly, from where he stood, he couldn’t see any
signs of her leaving. The snow in the direction she must have gone was smooth, unmarked. A trick of the lights, he was sure, but he didn’t go back to confirm it. Instead, he pushed his hands into his pockets for warmth, then headed with long, purposeful strides down the street.

It was Christmas Eve, and Maggie was waiting.

Chapter Fifteen
 

M
aggie stood frozen on the corner, unable to see for the tears that filled her eyes, unable to breathe for the sorrow that filled her heart. It was no wonder her mind had buried last Christmas’s memories, no surprise that they’d sent her barreling up the mountain to certain disaster.

Anything could jog her memory, the doctors had told her—a sight, a sound, a smell—and they’d been right. The sight of Ross standing there, holding that woman’s hand, hadn’t just jogged her memory. It had broken open a flood of memories. Last Christmas Eve, Ross and Jessica in intimate conversation, her hand clasped familiarly in his until Maggie walked in on them. The gift addressed to Jessica, the one that had made Ross blanch, the one that had contained a small fortune in diamonds and sapphires that matched her
dark eyes perfectly. The horrible guilt on Jessica’s face, the utter blankness of Ross’s expression, the sudden realization that had struck both Maggie and Jessica’s husband, Kevin, at the same time.