Authors: Susan Andersen
Again.
“Well, good,” he said, staring at the void where she’d disappeared down the trail. Then he turned away to climb the porch steps. “Fine.” He bent and picked up his duffel.
She’d done exactly what he’d told her he wanted. And that was for the best. He’d been alone all his life, and that was how he liked it. He headed down the steps for his car.
I hope your life will turn out to be everything you ever wished for.
His duffel hit the ground as everything inside of him went motionless.
The one thing he’d wished for his entire life had been a home to call his own. So why, now that he’d been offered one, had he just thrown it away?
He’d been afraid of disillusioning Dru somewhere down the line, so instead, he’d disillusioned her now. Somehow it had seemed better to hurt her a little now than to hurt her irreparably later.
But he’d never seen defeat in Dru’s eyes before. He’d seen her angry and aroused; he’d seen her contemptuous, happy, and hurt. But he’d never seen her defeated. Until today.
He’d put that look in her eyes. He’d pushed her away and refused to let her be responsible for her own decisions. What had Ben said about accountability—how it sometimes meant allowing others to make hard decisions for themselves, instead of trying to spare them future pain by removing all choice from their hands?
He’d taken Dru’s choices away from her. And for what? Because he might be penalized for his role in Butch’s deception?
What if they didn’t sent him to jail? Did he really want to spend the rest of his life in one rented room
after another, without a place to truly call home? Did he really want to be an outsider getting his family fix by looking into other people’s lives?
“Damn. I’m an idiot.”
But an idiot whose gut had finally quit churning.
He hit the spur trail at a dead run.
Dru heard footsteps pounding down the trail and wearily moved aside. She could hear kids yelling and splashing in the distance and assumed this was another on his way to join their ranks.
Instead, she heard her name spoken in a hoarse voice, and her arm was suddenly gripped just above her elbow. Head whirling dizzily for a moment from being swung around, she stared in shock into J.D.’s face.
He latched onto her other arm and studied her intently. For the longest time, he didn’t say a word. He simply stood there breathing heavily, gripping her arms tightly, staring down at her. She closed her eyes, not sure she had the strength to go another round with him.
Then he shook her once and her eyelids snapped open. She saw him swallow hard. “Drucilla Lawrence,” he said. “Will you marry me?”
“W-what?” But she’d heard him; she knew she’d heard him. The heaviness that had weighted her soul lifted, and her heart took flight. “You want to marry me?”
“Oh, yeah.”
It seemed suspiciously easy after his consistent
refusals to let her into his life, and she narrowed her eyes, unsure what to trust. “Why should I believe you now? Five minutes ago, you wanted to do everything all alone, without any help from me.”
“Five minutes ago, I was a moron. I’m a whole lot smarter now. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, Dru. I want to grow old with you, to raise Tate and have other babies with you.”
He lowered his head, and Dru’s heart stuttered to a halt as his lips bestowed a gentle benediction upon hers. Then they lifted and his eyes blazed down at her.
“You mean so much to me,” he said fiercely. “I love you in ways I didn’t realize were even possible. I know I’ve been bullheaded about keeping you out of my problems, but I couldn’t stand the thought of anything bad ever happening to you. I guess nobody makes it through life without taking a direct hit or two, though, huh?”
“No one,” she agreed. “The trick, I think, is to make the good times count and to hang onto the people who love you with both hands so you have a support system when the not-so-good times hit.” She cupped his jaw in her hand. “Are you ready to let me be your support system, John David, come good times or bad?”
A wild light flared in his eyes. “
Yes
.” He hauled her into his arms and held her so tight she could barely breathe. “Jesus God, yes. I still can’t wrap my mind around the vision of you sitting across from me in a prison common room, but if you say you want to help me fight this thing, then that’s what we’ll do. I love you so much, Dru. Let me be the person who sticks with you through life. Don’t make me go back out in the cold alone.”
“You don’t ever have to be alone again if you don’t want to be,” she said softly. Then she tilted her head back and gave him a slow, sly smile. “So long as you let me win every argument and grant my every wish.”
He froze for a moment. Then the I’m-bad-and-don’t-you-forget-it expression she was accustomed to reappeared. “You just keep waiting for that to happen, sweetheart,” he advised. He rubbed his hands down her bottom and did something wicked with his pelvis that made her catch her breath. “You just keep on waiting for about the next fifty years.”
I
t had been an eventful week and a long drive home, and J.D. pulled Dru away from Ben and Sophie’s front door before she could rap on it with her usual don’t-expect-me-to-wait-before-I-come-in rat-a-tap-tap. The sun was beginning to set earlier these days, and kamikaze moths dashed their brains out against the overhead porch light as she turned an inquiring gaze his way. Tenderly, he crowded her against the log wall and planted his hands, palms flat, next to her shoulders.
“This will probably be our last minute alone before Tate goes to bed tonight. How ’bout a kiss before we go in?”
With the immediate responsiveness that got him every time, she looped her arms around his neck and tilted her head up, her lips pursed in invitation. He lowered his head and kissed her softly.
Then he kissed her a little less softly.
Pulling back a moment later, he skimmed the pad of his thumb over the faint flush that stained her cheekbone. “It’s good to be home,” he said, stepping back. “I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet.” He reached over and rapped on the door, then reached for the doorknob.
“Um, about that, J.D.,” Dru said as he slid a hand onto the small of her back and ushered her ahead of him into the house. She looked at him over her shoulder. “Maybe I should’ve warned—”
“
Surprise
!” J.D. stopped dead in the doorway as people popped up from behind Ben and Sophie’s living room furniture. There seemed to be dozens of them, but he soon saw it was actually only Dru’s aunt and uncle, Tate, Char and Kev, and a few of the staff he’d gotten to know from the lodge. He looked over at Dru, who shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile.
“You knew, I take it?”
She fluttered her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. “Aunt Sophie might have mentioned something about it when I called to give them the good news.”
“Congratulations, darling,” Sophie said, coming up to them. She kissed him on the cheek and gave his arm a squeeze. “I was certain the prosecuting attorney would do the right thing, but you must be so relieved it’s all over.”
“Yeah, I am.” He and Dru had just spent the past week and a half in Seattle straightening out his legal standing. The police and the D.A. had deposed him, scrutinized his background, work record, and current situation, and in the end had declined to press charges
against him. Except for his having to go back to testify at the trial, that part of his life was closed.
Sophie chatted for a couple of minutes before drifting away to check on refreshments, and from that point on, J.D. was never alone. One by one everyone at the party stopped by to congratulate him. Dru ambled in and out of his orbit, and Tate was never far away, hovering like a hummingbird, darting and bobbing with excitement.
During a momentary lull the boy came up and hung on J.D.’s arm. “You and Mom can get married now, huh, J.D.?”
“Yeah.” With the black cloud of his possible incarceration hanging over his head, J.D. had hesitated to make solid plans. Dru, however, had felt no such compunction, and she’d already booked a small church in town, arranged for the flowers, and bought her wedding dress. Char had bought a maid-of-honor dress and Sophie had claimed rights to the wedding cake. They were like a force of nature, and J.D. and the rest of the menfolk had pretty much just gotten out of their way.
He grinned down at Tate. “In less than a month now, buddy.”
“Uh, J.D.?” Tate hesitated a moment, looking uncertain. Then he firmed up his jaw, squared his narrow shoulders, and met J.D.’s eyes head-on. “When you marry Mom…can I call you Dad?”
Blown away, J.D. stared down at his stepson-to-be. “You want to call me
Dad
?” he blurted, then could have cut his tongue out when he saw Tate flush.
“Forget it.” Pride clearly smarting, Tate started to move away. “It was a dumb idea.”
“Hell, no, I’m not going to forget it.” J.D. hooked his elbow around the back of the boy’s neck and hugged him to his side. He gave him a gentle noogie. “It’s an
excellent
idea. I’d be honored, Tate. I can’t tell you how honored I’d be.”
Face tilting up at him from the crook of his arm, Tate gave him a dazzling, big-toothed smile. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”
“Cool!” He tugged at J.D.’s arm. “Leggo. I wanna go tell Mom!” He raced off.
J.D.’s old neighborhood hadn’t encouraged sentimentality, and he didn’t quite know what to do with the huge lump in his throat. He slipped away from the party and went out onto the front porch.
God, he had so
much
these days that it sometimes scared him. He kept expecting to wake up and discover it was all just a great dream, and he was actually still back in his studio apartment in Seattle. Alone again.
“J.D.?” Dru stepped out onto the porch. “Are you okay?”
He slid his arm around her as she drew near and pulled her to him. Holding her close, he absorbed the heat of her plush curves and rubbed his jaw against her shiny, silky hair. “Tate asked if he could call me Dad,” he said, and had to clear his throat.
“I know; he told me.” She snuggled against him. “He also told me your answer. That was sweet.”
“It wasn’t
sweet
; it was true. I really am honored that he’d want me for his father.”
“I think he’s the one who feels honored.” He felt her cheek rise as she smiled against his chest. “Only three
and a half more weeks to go, John David. Then you’re mine, all mine.”
“
Only
, she says. Seems like a pretty long time to a guy who has to wait for an opportunity to sneak off before he can get a little.”
“Aw, poor baby.” She executed a little wiggle against him and slid her hands into the back pockets of his jeans to give his cheeks a squeeze. Rubbing her breasts against his chest as she raised up on her toes, she whispered in his ear, “It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.”
“Ah, man.” His hands pulled her closer. “How’d I get so lucky, Dru? I feel like I won the lottery.”
“Yeah? You like having part ownership in the lodge, huh?” she teased.
“I like having part ownership in your life. The rest is just gravy.” He massaged his hands up and down her back. “It just doesn’t get much better than this.”
“Now,
there
I have to disagree.” Dru gave him a smile that turned him to butter. “Because this is merely the beginning, John David. And from now on, it’s just going to keep on getting better and better.”
SUSAN ANDERSEN
The things that are important to me are fairly simple, though sometimes rare: a husband of thirty-plus years with whom I’ve yet to run out of things to talk about, a grown son who, deep in my heart, will forever remain my sweet baby boy, a warm and supportive extended family, a few good friends, skate-skiing, in-line skating, and a cat who requires only that I remove the lid from the Pounce so he can fish his treats out for himself.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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. Copyright © 2001 by Susan Andersen. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition November 2006 ISBN 9780061759635
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