The Wonder of You (8 page)

Pause, then, “Yeah, me too. Okay, do your best.”

She hung up. “Ivy talked with Kyle. They found next of kin, a sister in college in Minneapolis. Apparently her parents recently adopted Yulia from Ukraine. The sister is in no shape to take her, so Ivy’s contacting the adoption coordinator, trying to see if we can take her temporarily.”

Max glanced at her from where he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. He needed air. “Anyone want water? Or coffee? Chocolate?”

Amelia shook her head, frowned.

He escaped anyway, stalking all the way out into the foyer, then beyond, to the cool, pine-scented night, the stars watching as he pressed his hands to his face.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

See, he couldn’t hide anything from his wife
 
—not his stress and certainly not his regret.

Imagine her hurt when she discovered her groom regretted marrying her. The thought landed like a knife in his chest, and he bit back a cry of pain. He wanted to keep running out into the night but couldn’t when he felt her hand slide into his.

“What’s going on?”

Oh, she was beautiful
 
—looking at him with those blue eyes in the way that could infuse a sort of light into his spirit. He reached out and twined his fingers into her silky hair, aware of how rough and big his hands were. “I’m just wondering how we’re going to tell your family
 
—your overly protective, in-your-face family
 
—that we eloped.”

It had been an impulse, really
 
—birthed after Max’s hockey team lost their play-off round. Grace had met him in the tunnel
after the game, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered, “Cancún. Let’s do it.”

And with her sweet smell, her soft body against his, her voice like a song in his ear, Max couldn’t deny that he longed, with every bone in his body, to be married to her. To take her in his arms, lose himself in her embrace.

He should have pushed her away, let common sense grab hold. Maybe right now, she saw that in his eyes.

“You have regrets,” she said, taking his hand from her hair, holding it. “But you shouldn’t. You’ve been putting me off for almost a year, and frankly, I would have married you last fall in front of a justice of the peace with a hobo for a witness, so the fact that you made me wait until after the season ended is pure cruelty, mister.”

She lifted her arms around his neck, pulled his head down. “I don’t think I could have waited much longer.”

Then she kissed him, and he was a weak man because he wrapped his arms around her, sank into her kiss. She tasted of the lemonade and salty fries from their stop at McDonald’s, smelled of the lilacs she’d picked in Minneapolis before their trek north. Her body fit perfectly against his, as if she’d been made for him, or him for her, and when he held her, the world dropped away.

Her touch could heal him. Convince him that yes, marrying her had been a gift to him from God to help him endure, the one thing on earth that could make his life worth living.

She leaned back and said, “I need to get inside and see if Ivy’s made any headway with her emergency placement with my parents.”

Her eyes glowed with an unfamiliar shine. Max frowned as he followed her inside.

“I think we’re done here,” the doctor said. “It seems as though
your sister-in-law pulled a few strings. The adoption coordinator called and said they would release her into your custody, so she’s free to go with you. Just keep an eye on her, maybe check on her in the night.”

Yulia ducked her head again, her lower lip caught in her teeth as she played with the phone.

“She seems to be coping,” Max said.

Grace crouched before the girl and used a voice Max recognized from when he sank into a surly, defeated postgame mood. “Would you like some ice cream?”

The girl looked at her, wearing a blank expression. Undaunted, Grace straightened and held out her hand.

Yulia hesitated for a moment but then, one hand holding the phone, took Grace’s in the other and let Grace help her off the table.

Grace led her toward the parking lot. “Max, can you follow us? I’m going to ride with Amelia.”

He nodded, watching his wife climb into the backseat with Yulia and put her arm around the child.

A shadow brushed his heart at the sight.

And settled there as he drove north to Evergreen Resort.

He’d always loved the Christiansen homestead: the two-story lodge with the attic bedrooms, the expansive open family room/kitchen with a stone fireplace. The place overlooked Evergreen Lake, with a deck that could host the entire Blue Ox team, and a fishing dock jutting out from shore.

His wife had grown up here, surrounded by a family that had only seemed to grow stronger with the challenges of the past few years. The wildland fire that destroyed the rental cabins. The accident that left Owen
 
—Max’s former teammate
 
—unable to play, and the blowup of his injuries and mistakes that eventually led to the
birth of his daughter with a woman now pledged to marry Casper, his older brother. And now, well, Max hoped very much that John and Ingrid would weather the news of their daughter’s elopement.

He pulled into the lot behind Amelia and got out, seeing how Grace clutched Yulia’s hand as they walked to the lodge. “Tomorrow, I’ll bet Nana Christiansen will make you cookies.”

Nana Christiansen?

Grace opened the door, ushered the troupe inside. Max retrieved their suitcases and followed her.

Ingrid Christiansen, her short blonde hair tucked behind her ears, already had Grace in an embrace, the smell of baking
 
—something sweet and chocolaty
 
—filling the air. Max set the suitcases down.

“And Max too!” Ingrid stepped past Grace and threw her arms around his waist.

“Hey . . .” Not
Mom
. “Mrs. Christiansen.”

“Call me Ingrid, Max. We’ve been through this.” She caught his face in her hands and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Yeah, he liked Grace’s family. Hopefully, after tonight, they’d still like him.

Ingrid crouched before the little girl. “Are you hungry, sweetie?”

“I don’t think she speaks English, Mom,” Amelia said. “We tried
 
—but she seems to understand Russian.”

“Well, I’ll bet she understands the language of macaroni and cheese and chocolate cake.”

Max had to love Ingrid for her shower-them-with-food philosophy. Yulia followed her into the kitchen and climbed up on one of the counter stools. A plate of macaroni waited.

Ingrid dug around for a fork, found one. “Your father is out at the accident site
 
—they found the family’s car and are towing it to
the police station. Darek went home for the night, but I’m sure he’ll bring the kiddos up tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to see Joy. And little Layla. How are Raina and Casper?” Grace said.

“Good. Raina is still house-sitting for her aunt, so she’ll stay there for a while. Casper usually drops by after work
 
—but I think he’s itching to go search for Owen.”

Max didn’t look at Ingrid, the memory of his part in the fight that caused the wounds of his angry, prodigal brother-in-law still raking up too much grief.

“I don’t know why Casper’s still working at the Wild Harbor,” Grace said. “After all, with the reward he netted after his last find, he has enough money to spend his time hunting for more treasure.”

“I think he’s just trying to help Ned. You know how he is
 
—always coming to someone’s rescue,” Ingrid said. “Besides, I think he has plans for the money. Something that includes building a home as soon as he can marry Raina.”

Max glanced at Grace, an eyebrow up.
Now. Tell them now, honey.
But Grace was watching Yulia.

“Poor thing,” Ingrid finally said, pouring the little girl a glass of milk.

“I don’t know, Mom,” Amelia said. “Maybe it’s shock, but she didn’t seem to care who held on to her, just followed the first person who took her hand.”

Ingrid frowned. “She’s probably scared.”

“It could be an attachment disorder,” Grace said. “I’ve read about that
 
—happens with orphans. They have trouble fixing themselves to one person, feeling that bond.”

“Even at the accident site, when they pulled out her parents, she named them but sounded so detached.” Amelia scooted a stool
next to Yulia, setting her camera case on the counter. “Can I talk you into some macaroni and cheese for the local photojournalist?”

“Oh, Amelia, did you get the job? That’s wonderful news!” Ingrid went to the stove and returned to the counter with a plateful.

“I don’t know yet, but I got shots not only of the oh-so-exciting Girl Scout Troop 168 car wash, but also the events at the river.”

“The whole thing is so sad,” Ingrid said. “Tourists just don’t realize how dangerous it is to wade in the rivers and creeks. Life turns ugly so fast. Makes a person want to hold tighter to the happy moments. The joy.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then Ingrid said, her tone brightening, “Max and Grace
 
—to what do we owe this surprise visit?”

He glanced at Grace for cues, ready to announce the big news. But she wore a strange expression. “Uh, we thought, since Max’s season was over, we’d help with your Mother’s Day breakfast-in-bed event. Darek told me how you’re making cinnamon rolls for the guests, and . . . we thought we’d help. Right, Max?”

She gave him a smile and for a second, the way the lie slid like honey off her lips made him doubt everything she’d ever told him.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ingrid said. “I’d love some help in the kitchen. In fact, I’ll even move aside and let you two Iron Chefs take over.”

“You don’t have to
 
—” Max started.

“Grace, help yourself to the fridge, and if you don’t want mac and cheese, then whip up something for you and Max to eat. I’ll make up Eden’s bed for Yulia with you and Amelia in the attic. Max, you have your choice
 
—the den or the boys’ room.”

He glanced at Grace, who suddenly seemed to forget that, yes, they were married, because she said . . . nothing?

He might regret marrying her, but hello, he had no intention of spending even one night away from his new bride.

Except she met his eyes, a stream of panic in hers.

Shoot. “The den sounds great, Ingrid. Let me help.” He thought it came out in a growl, but Ingrid seemed not to notice.

“I’ll get the sheets,” Grace said. She wrinkled her nose in an I’m-sorry expression.

But maybe she, like him, needed time to get her footing. Figure out how to tell her parents that yes, they’d finally jumped in, both feet, regardless of the sentence looming in front of them.

And while John and Ingrid
 
—the entire family, probably
 
—knew about his diagnosis, he expected a hard conversation with John about how Max intended to provide for Grace when his body no longer could.

Yeah, that conversation, in light of today’s tragedy, could possibly wait until tomorrow.

But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to talk Grace into sneaking down to the den in the wee hours. For a moment, that very thought slid a smile up his face.

Grace caught it as she returned with a stack of sheets. He retrieved them, their hands brushing.

Then he winked, and deliciously, she blushed. As if she might be thinking the same thing.

Oh, how he loved her.

She turned, laughing at something Amelia was saying as she jogged up the stairs.

“How about a slice of that chocolate cake,” Grace said to Max.
Then she patted Yulia on the back, looked down at her, such tenderness in her expression it could stop time.

And in that second, darkness rushed back with a force that felt like a check into the boards as Max figured it out. He didn’t fear the news of the elopement or even the future looming before him.

Because he could give his wife everything
 
—his heart, his money, his strength, his faith. But he could never give her what she truly wanted.

A family like the one she’d grown up in.

As usual, her family had swooped in and taken over. Amelia tried not to let the way Grace tucked Yulia into bed, reading her a story as if she’d been the one to find her on the shore, niggle at her.

After all, the little girl needed as much love as she could get. And Amelia didn’t really resent her sister’s
 
—or her mother’s
 
—ministrations. Just that, without a word, they’d assumed she didn’t quite have it in her to mother this grieving child.

Yeah, well, she knew exactly how it felt to be in a foreign country alone. Still, she shook away the voices and listened instead to the night sky whispering to her, pulling her away from the speculation about Yulia and out onto the deck, her feet bare against the cool wood. The wind rushed through the trees across the lake, and the lights at Jensen’s family’s stately lake home peered out like eyes into the night.

She slid onto the picnic table, unzipped her camera from its case, and scrolled through the day’s pictures. She couldn’t wait to show Lou her shots on Monday morning. The Girl Scouts laughing in the glorious spray of the car wash. It all felt decades away,
but there, too, was Seth, strong, tanned, grinning at Amelia, one thumb caught in his waistband.