Her Ideal Man (22 page)

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Authors: Ruth Wind

BOOK: Her Ideal Man
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Humbted, he stood and went to find the keys to his truck.
 
 
Anna slept for hours, a long, deep, healing sleep that knit some of the torn places in her heart, and gave her strength to stumble from the dim bedroom into the vividly bright late afternoon.
She found Louise with Alonzo, the two of them sitting close together in the kitchen, talking in low, earnest voices. Louise saw her and straightened instantly, a faint blush on her cheeks. “You're awake!”
“Maybe,” Anna said, blinking. “I'd kill for some coffee.”
“Well, I just happen to have some made,” Louise said, and gently pushed Anna into a chair. Sleepily, Anna leaned over and kissed Alonzo's cheek. “I guess you heard about the big blowout, huh? Thanks for coming over to check on me.”
“You look okay. Are you?” he asked, patting her hand.
She considered. “I think so.” She sighed. “All you can ever do is try. I did my best.”
Louise put the coffee in front of her, and Anna drank it gratefully, aware of the questions they both wanted to ask. As caffeine and sugar entered her bloodstream, she felt capable of giving them at least a little background. “The bottom line is, he hasn't ever worked through his grief over Kara, and I suddenly realized he never will as long as I'm there to lean on.”
“Are you going to go back to New York with your parents, then?” Louise asked nervously.
“No way, Louise. It'll make it harder to stay here in some ways, but this is my home. I love my job. I love the mountains, and I'm not going anywhere.” She reached out and covered Louise's hand. “Your grandbaby is safe.”
Louise smiled. “I'm glad.”
The doorbell rang, and Louise went to answer it. Anna touched Alonzo's hand. “Looks like you two are working things out.”
He winked.
Louise returned to the kitchen, and by the expression on her face, Anna knew instantly that Tyler was here. “He wants to know if you'd like to go for a drive with him.”
Anna looked at her, closed her eyes.
“If you want to wait, I'll tell him to come back later.”
But Anna was already standing. “No. I'll go.” As if in anticipation, the baby kicked, much more distinctly than it had before, and she closed her hand over the place.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she walked into the living room, where Tyler stood uncomfortably. As if it had been a long time since she saw him, she realized he'd gained a little weight lately, and his lanky muscle was more balanced. She said nothing.
“I was wondering if you'd go for a drive with me,” he said. “Talk.”
She nodded. “Let me get my coat.”
When she had fetched it, they drove through a part of Red Creek unfamiliar to Anna. “Where are we going?” she asked finally, realizing he wasn't going to just drive and talk, but had a destination in mind.
“I'd rather just show you, if you don't mind.”
Anna nodded.
He pulled under a bank of trees just as the sun sank behind the highest peak nearby. Anna knew it would be back, reappearing twice more as it set lower and lower on the horizon, but it gave her a shiver, because they had stopped at the graveyard.
Carefully, she emptied her mind of expectations as she stepped out of the truck. From a carrier in the back, Tyler took a bunch of mixed flowers, of the sort that could be purchased at the grocery store. Against the gray day, they were startlingly bright—sprays of orange freesias, improbably blue carnations, a handful of roses in different colors, a little baby's breath.
Carrying the bouquet, Tyler led the way into the graveyard. The world was washed with the soft gray of twilight, and within the wrought-iron fence, the air felt moist and cooler. Some hidden wrens whistled in the trees, but there was no other sound.
A grove of aspen enclosed it, with the mountains rising in giant blue splendor all around, and Anna thought it was an exquisitely beautiful, serene place, and would be no matter what time of year.
The headstone was simple, with Kara's name and the dates of her birth and death, with a quotation from Omar Khayyám:
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on.
“She picked this plot herself,” he said. “The quote, too. She made all the arrangements for her death the day before we got married. I didn't know until she died.”
Anna had often been jealous of the threat Kara represented. Now, she felt only a poignant sorrow that moved through her with swift, piercing suddenness. “It's as if she knew.”
Tyler lifted his head, as if he were trying to hold back tears. “I think she did. I think she always knew.” Taking a breath, he divided the flowers and gave half to Anna. “But I think she was more sincerely grieved this morning than she has been since she died. I thought—” He stopped and his jaw went hard. “I thought you would like to see her grave.” He lost his struggle to keep his voice even. “I thought,” he said raggedly, “that she would like to meet you.”
Anna let the tears come, and could only nod.
“She loved flowers,” he said, fingering the freesias, “but not very many of them grew well on the mountains. I brought them to her whenever I could. She liked these because they smelled good.”
He put them on the grave, and Anna bent down to do the same. It felt like a healing act, somehow, and her deep sense of loss evaporated.
Tyler simply stood there, looking at the flowers in their brightness on the grave, and Anna waited. He touched his chin, then raised his head, and his eyes seemed to borrow light from the twilight sky. “This is hard for me, Anna. I don't say what I mean very well.”
She said nothing.
He took a breath. “You were right about what I did to Kara—and I knew it. I don't think—” His brows drew down in puzzlement. “I don't think I really believed she would die. I wanted to punish her for making me hurt and worry, and I was really furious when she died.” He met her gaze apprehensively, as if waiting for censure. “I'm not proud of it, but it's the truth.”
“Grief isn't rational.”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “The thing is, Anna, it really did hurt to lose her. I really did love her.”
“I know.”
“So it seemed like the only way I could make it up to her, make it right with her, was to keep myself away from other women for the rest of my life. It was the only penance I could think to offer.”
He looked at the grave. “Then you came bursting in, like those flowers, so bright, and made my life look so gray, and I wanted you, and I hated myself for it.”
A faint spark of hope lit in Anna's heart.
“I didn't want to fall in love with you. I really didn't want to find something that wonderful, something that made what Kara and I had seem like kid stuff.” He swallowed. “But it happened anyway.”
At first she didn't really understand what he was saying. Blankly she stared at him.
“When you wept for her this morning,” he said, his voice going rough again, “I realized I'd gotten over Kara. Maybe a long time ago, and I was just waiting for a magic kiss from a gypsy to wake me up.”
He let out his breath. “I love you, Anna. I want you to be my real wife. Is that possible, do you think? Can we start again?”
Anna lifted her chin. “What about the house?”
“You were right,” he said. “It needs to be lived in. I was selfish.”
Anna closed her eyes to be sure he wasn't going to disappear, that this wasn't a dream. When she opened them, he still stood there, a prince of the forest, who'd conquered his dragons. “Oh, yes! I love you,” she whispered, and moved forward to fling herself into his arms.
He made a noise of surprise and gratitude, and clutched her in an embrace so tight Anna could barely breathe. “It killed me to have you walk away, Anna. You're a part of me now.”
“I love you, Tyler,” she said, and her wild sense of dizziness carried her away. As he kissed her, she thought she felt the faintest brush of love over her face, and a sense of a woman's soft sigh of relief—and then it was gone.
“Let's go tell the crew, huh?” Tyler said.
She smiled. “Yes.”
Epilogue
Seven months later
 
 
 
A
thick wet November snow fell from a low, heavy sky over the little Spanish church in Red Creek. Its pews were overflowing for the double wedding as the music started. Anna waited in the anteroom nervously for her father's signal, and when the music swelled through the aisle, her heart soared.
Her mother had been scandalized that Anna would wear the medieval dress Tyler had given her, but Anna had insisted. Tyler, too, wore his tunic, and he'd let his hair grow out again at her insistence, so it hung in a long, shining braid down his back. He looked proud and happy next to his handsome brothers and Alonzo, and she gave him a radiant smile as her father handed her to him.
Then she turned and waited for the second bride. Louise wore a simple green dress that flattered her ample figure, and on her head was a simple hat with netting that had belonged to her grandmother. Anna saw that the flowers she carried trembled a little, and she had to suck in a quick breath to keep her sentimental tears in place.
Through the mass and the sacraments, Louise held up fairly well, but when the priest asked them all to turn, Tyler and Anna, Louise and Alonzo, and introduced her as Mrs. Alonzo Chacon, she made a strange, strangled noise, and the whole church started to laugh.
And even above the laughter, Anna could hear her baby cooing and crowing in her grandma Olive's arms. She grinned at her beautiful, dark-haired daughter, then turned to Tyler, her prince, and whispered, “I think Kara is going to love church.”
He squeezed her hand, and then, even though it wasn't in the rehearsal, he bent down to kiss her soundly, passionately, eliciting a cheer from the pews. “What do you say we get right to work on another one?”
“I hope you aren't expecting me to have eleven children, Mr. Forrest.”
He grinned. “No, we can stop at say...six?”
Anna laughed. “It's a deal—if you have half of them.”
He kissed her again. “Thank heaven for second chances.”
Anna smiled up at him, thinking maybe there was magic in the world, after all, good magic, powerful magic.
The magic of love.
 
 
ISBN : 978-1-4592-7241-5
 
 
HER IDEAL MAN
 
 
Copyright © 1997 by Barbara Samuel
 
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
 
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no retation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
 
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
 
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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