Yesterday's Embers (17 page)

Kayeleigh’s heart broke with it.

Dad put a finger under her chin and lifted it until she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “Honey, there will never be anyone like your mom. No one can ever, ever take her place. But…she’s gone. And we have to go on with our lives.”

Kayeleigh tried to swallow, but it felt like there was a butcher knife lodged in her throat. “You’re betraying Mom.” Her voice came out in a monotone. “You’re betraying all of us.”

“What’s that? Be-train?” Sarah juggled Harley into her lap.

“Nobody is betraying anybody.” Dad’s voice turned hard now, and his glare pinned her to the spot. “And I don’t want to hear any more talk like that.”

She slid off the arm of the sofa and swept past him, jaw clenched as she scrambled up the stairs to her room. She didn’t care
what
the Bible said. She would never forgive him as long as she lived. Never.

On his wedding night he wept for all he’d lost.

I
, Michaela, take you, Douglas, to be my husband.” Mickey looked up into Doug’s eyes, her voice echoing in the dim courtroom. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer, or for poorer—”

Doug winked at her on the word
poorer
, and she almost snickered. Avoiding his eyes, she stared into the empty gallery over his shoulder and finished making the same promise to him that he’d made to her. “In all that life brings our way, before God and man, I promise to love only you as long as we both shall live.”

As of this day, she had an anniversary to celebrate.
April 27
. It would be a day marked in red on her calendar—
their
calendar—for the rest of her life.

The judge, who could’ve easily passed herself off as a college coed, turned to Doug. “You have rings to exchange?” She
asked it the way she might have asked if he had change for a dollar.

He nodded and fished in the pocket of his suit coat for Mickey’s wedding band. They’d had the rings sized and had only picked them up on the way to the courthouse this afternoon. Mickey ran her finger over the diamond engagement ring she’d been wearing for all of an hour.

Doug came up with both wedding bands and pressed his ring into Mickey’s palm.

“You first.” The judge nodded at Doug. “You may place the ring on her finger.”

Mickey tried to keep her hand from shaking while Doug worked the plain wedding band over her knuckles. She’d treated herself to a manicure yesterday. But no amount of nail polish or hand cream could camouflage hands that were work-worn from constant washing at the daycare, not to mention the garden dirt she was sure had worked itself into her very pores.

Doug didn’t seem to notice. She could feel his emotion as the thin silver band slipped over her knuckles and into place. She fiddled with her engagement ring, residing for now on her right ring finger.

Doug wrapped his hands around hers. She swallowed hard and took the plain matching band of silver they’d picked out for him on Saturday. She slid it onto his left ring finger, letting her hand rest on his for a long moment.

Doug clasped her hands again, and they stood there, waiting for Judge Rickard to read the little blurb they’d found online about the rings.

The judge cleared her throat and slipped the sheet of paper from the thin manual she held. “The wedding ring is an outward, visible symbol of the unbroken circle of love.” She read the words with all the emotion she might use for a legal brief. “It signifies to the world that this man and this woman have pledged their loyalty to one another before God. Wear these rings in remembrance of one another and in respect for the covenant of marriage.”

The young woman turned a page in the manual and froze. She leafed back through the booklet, confusion shadowing her face. After more page turning, she shrugged and gave them a sheepish smile. “Oops. Looks like the vows were supposed to come before the rings. No big deal. I think we’re still legal.”

Doug looked at Mickey, a silent apology written on his face.

But the judge’s voice warmed, and she found a smile for them before asking the age-old question of each. “Do you take this man (this woman)? To be your husband (to be your wife)?”

“I do,” Mickey said.

“I do,” Doug echoed, his eyes swimming.

And for that one moment, everything about this day felt right.

T
heir hotel was at the edge of town, with traffic from I-70 zooming by the overpass above. The room Doug had reserved was at the end of the narrow hallway. When he unlocked the door for Mickey, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and dirty socks hit her in the face. She breathed through her mouth and went to try to open a window while Doug double-locked the doors.

She was fumbling with the controls on the heating and cooling unit when she felt his arms on her shoulders. “Hey, Mrs. DeVore…”

Ever since they’d picked out the rings last Saturday, she’d practiced writing her new name—
Michaela DeVore
—in a fancy, flowing script. But somehow, hearing him call her that now startled her. She was a
Mrs
. now.
Mrs. Douglas DeVore. Mickey DeVore
. In her thoughts the name fit awkwardly, like a jacket she’d borrowed from someone else.

“Come here, you.” Doug pulled her toward him, his voice husky. “I love you. You know that?”

She straightened and turned into him, nodding against his chest. She hadn’t expected to be so nervous about this night. She was thirty years
old. She’d read plenty of books and magazine articles, talked with her married girlfriends about this part of marriage. Since that first passionate kiss, Doug made no secret about his desire for her. But he’d respected her desire to save herself. For him.

But now that the moment was here, she felt shy and unsure of herself.

He seemed to sense her tension and rubbed slow circles on her back, through the fabric of her silk shirt. He kissed her hair, murmured in her ear. She could feel the desire, the urgency in his caresses. What if she was a disappointment to him? What if…things didn’t work the way they were supposed to?

She thought of the brief ceremony this afternoon and how different it had been from what she’d dreamed of. Since she was a little girl, she’d wanted to wear a big white dress and have five bridesmaids and a church full of people. Instead, she’d worn an ordinary black skirt and this cream-colored silk shirt. She’d only worn it for a few hours…and now Doug was fumbling with the top button.

She pulled away. “I—let me go wash up.” She reached for her overnight bag. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiled and slid his hands down her arms. “I’ll be here.”

In the bathroom she inspected her face in the mirror. Her makeup had faded, and dark circles smudged the crescents under her eyes. Her hair had turned into a frizzled mop. She would make him turn the lights off before—

She unzipped her makeup case, retrieved her toothbrush, and turned on the faucet. The water ran hot, steaming up the mirror. She brushed her teeth until she was afraid her gums would bleed. Finally she couldn’t stall any longer.

Stepping out of her clothes, she averted her eyes from the mirror and hurriedly slipped into the honeymoon negligee she’d bought at Walmart last week. Risking one quick glimpse at her image through the haze of
steam, she turned off the bathroom light, took a shallow breath, and opened the door.

The room was dark, lit only by the dim glow of the lamp by the door. Doug was sitting on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his knees. He took one look at her and crossed the room to take her in his arms. “Are you okay?”

She took a wavering breath and buried her face in his shoulder. “I…I’m scared to death.” The tears came and she couldn’t seem to hold them back. “You…this isn’t new for you.”

“No. Not in one way.” He tightened his arms around her. “But it’s new with you.”

“What if I don’t know…what to do?”

“You’ll know.” She heard the tender smile in his voice.

But he’d been with a woman who’d had years to learn how to make him happy. How could he help but compare her to Kaye? And how could she not come up short? Kaye had been so vivacious, had always seemed so self-confident.

He put a hand on top of her head and tipped it back, seeking her eyes.

She locked her gaze with his, holding on for dear life.

He captured her hand in his. Asking permission with his eyes, he led her to the other side of the bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress, and he knelt in front of her.

“It’s okay, babe,” he whispered. “We’ll go slow. I promise. We’ll take as much time as you need. We have a lifetime to figure it out. Together.”

S
unlight seeped through the crevice between the halves of the heavy hotel draperies. Doug threw his arm over the womanly form breathing softly beside him. He pulled her close and pressed his forehead
against her back. Only half awake, he grasped at the memories playing through his mind like a jerky movie trailer. There was Kaye, smiling her million-dollar smile, trying to tell him something. But her laughter was drowned out by the dispassionate voice of a female judge. “By the authority vested in me in the State of Kansas, I pronounce that you are man and wife.”

He started and rolled over, then sat up in bed, squinting through the darkness to read the numbers on the digital clock on the hotel nightstand. Seven fifty-four. Beside him in the bed Mickey’s dark hair floated over the white pillowcase in waves. He shook his head, trying to clear the disturbing dream.

He was married. Again. He’d been given a new chance at happiness. But last night had been a shaky start to his life with Mickey Valdez. She’d been like a frightened child. Her apprehension, and the gift she offered him, touched him deeply, and he’d found it easy to be patient with her. She warmed to his kisses, and the love they made was sweet and gentle. Like his first time with Kaye.

When they finished, with Mickey sleeping in his arms, unexpected tears had come. Tears for Kaye. He missed her so desperately in that moment. And he could never share with Mickey how he’d longed for his wife—for Kaye—even while holding his new bride in his arms.

On his wedding night, he wept for all he’d lost. For Rachel, and for the life that had been stolen from him.

He wept because, no matter how hard he wished it so, Mickey was not—and never would be—Kaye.

God had given her exactly what she’d always dreamed of. So why did she feel so ambivalent?

M
ickey pressed the doorbell again, then clasped her hands together, trying to rehearse a speech she hadn’t yet written in her mind.

“You’re nervous.” Behind her, Doug put his hands on her shoulders and massaged her taut muscles. Any other time she would have appreciated it, but right now she had to fight the urge to shake him off.

“A little bit.”

Grinning, he put a hand on the back of her neck and kissed her temple. “You were nervous Friday night, too, and look how that turned out.”

She felt the heat creep up her neck, but secretly she was glad he’d teased her about that night. He’d seemed quiet, preoccupied since they’d first…made love. She’d almost worried that he was disappointed. It was good to hear him imply that things had turned out okay.

But right now her fears about her brother took center stage, and she wouldn’t allow Doug to change the subject. “I just don’t know how Rick is going to take this.”

“You promised they wouldn’t kill me, remember?”

“Would you stop it, Doug!” She hadn’t meant to snap at him and patted his arm in apology. “I’m sorry…but that’s not helping.”

She and Doug had stopped by her brother’s house last weekend after they’d picked out the rings. But no one was home, and she’d decided later it might have been a case of divine intervention. She’d talked about Doug and the kids to her brothers, and a little more to Angie, but she’d never let on how close she and Doug had become. For all they knew, he was just a good friend she’d had a few dates with. After they’d decided to get married so quickly, she’d talked Doug into waiting to tell her brothers until after they were married. Now she regretted the decision.

She reached for the doorbell again, but the door flew open and Angie stood there smiling. “Mickey! Come on in.” She looked past her and gave Doug a polite smile.

“Angie, this is Doug DeVore.”

“Welcome, Doug. We’ve heard so much about you. It’s about time Mickey brought you around so we could meet you. Come on in.”

She led them inside. “Alex and Tony won’t be here until after dinner. They had to change some plans since this isn’t our regular weekend to get together.” She turned and shouted up the stairway. “Rick! Mickey’s here. He’s getting Emmy up from her nap,” she explained.

“Oh, good. I was hoping she’d be awake.” She turned to Doug. “Wait till you see this baby.” Emmy would give them something to talk about. And maybe serve as a buffer.

An infant’s coos floated down to them, and Rick appeared at the top of the stairs with Emmy in his arms.

“Hey, baby sister. There you are. We were starting to think you weren’t going to show up.” He descended the stairs to plant a kiss on
her cheek, handing the baby over to her. Like Angie had, he threw a polite nod Doug’s way and stood there waiting for Mickey to introduce them.

She gave Emmy a squeeze and breathed in the heady baby scent. “Rick, Angie, this is Doug.” She took another deep breath and affected an enigmatic smile. “This is…my husband.” She’d intended to wait and tell all her brothers at once, but there the words were.

Her brother and his wife exchanged looks that said “Did I miss something?”

“Doug and I…got married Friday.” Mickey tried to inject a cheer she didn’t feel into her voice. “We’re on our way home from our honeymoon, actually. That’s why we asked if you could change the date.”

“What?” Rick’s gray-frosted eyebrows knit in a frown. “You’re not serious, Michaela.” It was a statement, not a question. And she was in trouble when he called her by her given name. He was taking it about like she’d expected, though.

Doug stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s true. I’m the lucky man. It’s good to meet you…well, to see you again. You won’t remember me, I’m sure,” he explained, “but I was an admiring fan back when you played basketball at CHS. Saw a couple of Marymount games when you were playing for them, too.”

Mickey could have kissed him right there. If there was any way to worm his way into Rick’s good graces, talking about his old basketball days was a good start.

Rick shook Doug’s hand, and Mickey saw the fury that had been boiling beneath his dark complexion subside a little. Still, he didn’t acknowledge Doug beyond the handshake and turned to Mickey instead. “Is it true? Are you really
married
?”

“We are, Rick.”

“Um…I don’t recall getting an invitation.” He wasn’t smiling.

“We didn’t want a big wedding, Rick. It was…just the two of us.”

“You didn’t get married in the Church, I take it.”

A terrifying thought occurred to her. Would her brother try to get them to annul the marriage because the ceremony had been performed outside the Church? She hurried to explain. “We were married by a judge, Rick. I told you guys about Doug’s situation.” She turned to include Angie. “We wanted to keep things as simple as possible. We…we love each other, and I love Doug’s children. We feel like this is what God wanted for us.”

A row of ridges furrowed Rick’s brow. “I’m not sure I would presume to know what God wanted.”

Mickey prayed for Doug to jump in and take up their defense, but he stood there, scrubbing at the carpet with the toe of his boot.

Rick’s dark eyes narrowed. “It would have been nice to have been invited. Who walked you down the aisle?” His voice held deep hurt.

Mickey realized then that her brother had always, rightfully, presumed it would be him who would perform that duty.

“There…wasn’t exactly an aisle. We got married in the courthouse. On Friday.” She shifted Emmy to her other hip. “Rick, I’m happy. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

The baby squirmed in her arms, and Mickey clicked her tongue and cooed, trying to keep her content, praying Rick would come around.

Angie put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Rick, please…” She turned to Doug and Mickey. “We are very happy for you, both of you.” Her expression begged them to excuse Rick’s rudeness.

But he shrugged Angie off with a scowl, not acknowledging her congratulations.

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen? Dinner is almost ready. Mickey, you can keep me company while I get things on the table.” Angie left them no choice but to follow her through the great room into the large sunny kitchen.

Rick and Angie’s two youngest boys came up from the basement playroom as they settled around the kitchen table. “Aunt Mickey!”

“Hi, guys. How’s it going?”

Ricky ran to give her a hug, but the six-year-old stopped short when he saw Doug sitting beside her.

“Guys, this is my husband, Doug. He’s your Uncle Doug now.”

“You guys go back downstairs,” Rick barked. “We’ll call you up when lunch is ready.”

The boys flinched as if they were being punished, but they held Doug with curious stares as they slinked backward toward the stairs.

Lunch was an awkward affair with the children misbehaving and the adults tiptoeing around the one thing they were obviously all thinking about. Doug tried to make conversation, but after Rick rebuffed him several times, he finally gave up and concentrated on the huge plate of food Angie had set in front of him.

By the time Tony and Alex showed up, Mickey was ready to throttle her brother. Fortunately, eight kids and a fussy baby created enough distraction that they managed to dodge any discussion of her brothers’ opinions about her marriage.

They ate homemade ice cream in the backyard, but as soon as Doug’s bowl was empty, Mickey made excuses to leave.

“You call me,” Rick said pointedly as they walked to the car. “We’ll talk.” He gave Doug a nod that Mickey knew well enough to interpret as “I have a few things to say to you, too, buddy.”

She could well imagine the conversation that ensued between her brothers and their wives once she and Doug pulled out of the driveway in his pickup.

The drive home—to their first night together in Doug’s house—was spent in silence. She guessed he was trying to imagine the next family dinner at the Valdez zoo, with his five kids added to the mix. Of course, given the way Rick was handling things, they might not be invited.

She swallowed back tears at the thought. Surely Rick would eventually get used to the idea that she was married. Angie could usually talk some sense into him. But what if she had, by marrying Doug, sacrificed,
even for a little while, one of the most precious parts of her life? She couldn’t imagine not going to those family get-togethers with her brothers’ families every month. At the same time she had trouble envisioning Doug and his brood fitting in.

She’d dreamed about the day she’d bring a man home to meet her family—of seeing warm approval in her brothers’ eyes. But that dream had included a long courtship and a fiancé growing to know her family. And it certainly hadn’t included five ready-made children.

She was glad they’d arranged for the kids to stay with Wren again tonight. Even though she missed Doug’s kids, tonight she was in no mood to deal with all the adjustments they faced.

Tomorrow she and Doug would move her things into his house, try to get organized before they went to pick up the kids at Wren’s. Then come Tuesday morning, she would wake up in her new life—in a new place, beside her new husband. She would drive the twins and Harley to daycare. Kayeleigh and Landon would walk over to the daycare after school like always. And come five thirty, she would bring the kids home. She would make supper, help the kids with their homework maybe. Start a load of laundry…or two. It would be the start of a brand-new life—their “new reality,” as Doug had taken to calling it.

God had given her exactly what she’d always dreamed of. So why did she feel so ambivalent? Something wasn’t fitting. Deep inside her. What had only been a faint whisper for the past couple of days grew in intensity. She wasn’t ready.

God had given her the desire of her heart. What she’d
begged
Him for. And she did want this—all of it. She just hadn’t been prepared to get it all at once.

Right now all she wanted was to go back to her own house—alone. Crawl into her comfy bed in her quiet room and have a good cry.

D
arkness came far too quickly, and at ten o’clock Mickey heard Doug turn off the TV and lock the front door. He came up behind her, where she was washing dishes at the sink, and kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna hit the hay. Turn the lights out before you come to bed, would you?”

Without waiting for a reply, he headed back to the bedroom. She heard the water running as he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed.

She wasn’t really sleepy. Most nights it was eleven before she turned out the lights. But it seemed like Doug expected her to come to bed with him, so she finished the dishes, turned out the lights, and went back to the bedroom.

Doug came out of the bathroom and climbed into bed—the side of the bed she usually slept on. He held up a corner of the quilt. “Do you think you’ll need extra blankets? We turn the furnace way down at night.”

Mickey wondered who he meant by “we.” She felt like a guest in his home, only she wasn’t sleeping in the guest room. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

She took her nightgown into the bathroom to change. She hung her clothes on the hook on the back of the door. In spite of the fact that all of Kaye’s clothes were gone from the closet, and her toiletries had been cleaned out of the medicine cabinet, her presence seemed to permeate the room. The house.

Mickey climbed into bed beside Doug. They exchanged nervous smiles, and he patted her hand. She usually read a little before falling asleep, but he turned off the lamp on his nightstand, so she did likewise, tensing when he reached to touch her.

The familiar pangs of longing that he always aroused in her came over her, but she wasn’t sure she could love him that way in this room where Kaye seemed to dwell in every corner, in the very walls. Her touch was in the arrangement of books on the nightstand, in the basket of dusty
silk flowers that adorned the dresser. More than that…
worse
than that, Kaye was in every breath Doug took, in his heart, in his kisses.

She rolled away from him and pulled the quilt up around her chin. Even the quilt held the faint scent of Kaye’s perfume.

Doug didn’t pursue her, but rolled to his own side of the bed.

She lay there, afraid to breathe, afraid to move, lest he reach for her in the darkness.

Finally, her husband’s breathing took on an even cadence, and she let some of the tension seep from her muscles.

Oh, dear God, what have I done? What have
we
done?