When Night Falls (38 page)

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Authors: Cait London

BOOK: When Night Falls
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In the morning, she smiled drowsily, snuggling beneath the sheet in his bed. The scent of brewed coffee enticed, blended with the low, indistinct murmur of a man’s voice and a woman’s. A glance at the bedroom clock told Uma that it was eight o’clock and the sunshine coming softly through the window told her that another clean, bright day had begun.

Pearl…
Uma held Mitchell’s pillow and ached for Pearl, and Lauren. Their lives had been so twined together that she would always think of them. Today, there would be police reports and details to wind through, but a new beginning needed that cleaning so life could grow sweeter and better.

She nuzzled Mitchell’s scent, keeping him and the night and their love close to her, wrapping herself in it—and the scent of the roses that were freshly clipped and near their bed. Uma dreamily reached out a hand to smooth them, perfect satiny blooms, a mixture of the old pioneer roses that were a part of her life.

With a sigh, Uma sat up and stretched and luxuriated in Mitchell’s lovemaking. He’d been tender but possessive, tempering his strength to her…she smiled softly, feeling the heaviness of her breasts, the delicate aching of her muscles, because she’d pushed to the limit, hoarding every sensation that made them one, burning away everything else.

After a quick shower, she wore Mitchell’s loose cotton shirt and undershorts into the kitchen. Her torn clothing of last night had been thoughtfully removed by Mitchell.

Seated on bar stools near the counter, Mitchell and Grace were having coffee and sweet rolls, talking quietly, earnestly. They turned to her, and Mitchell quickly rose to come to Uma, kissing her. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“What’s this?” she asked, snuggling against him.

“I invited Grace over this morning…I wanted to talk with her. The past is over, and last night—”

Mitchell inhaled sharply, his body tense as once more he fought the terror of losing Uma. “Last night put everything into perspective. Enough years have been wasted…I’ll try to work through my feelings for Grace, because as a man, I see things differently—as a man who loves a woman deeply and wants the best for her. It isn’t going to be easy. But I’ve told her what Dad said. She should have that, and it was important to me not to wait. I want our life—yours and mine—to start fresh, as it should be, with family. I couldn’t go there, because after a night of talking, Mrs. Craig and Dani are still sleeping. And I wanted to be here, with you.”

Uma’s throat tightened with joy, and she held him tighter, this man she loved and who loved her enough to work through a bitter past. “This is a wonderful surprise, Grace. I’m so glad.”

Grace’s vulnerable expression said she was struggling against tears. “It is wonderful, so wonderful.”

“It’s a beginning,” Mitchell murmured softly against Uma’s hair.

“Yes, a beginning,” she returned, her heart filling with love as she smiled up at him.

I
n the first week of September, Mitchell turned the handle of the old-fashioned wooden ice cream churn in his backyard. He decided he’d stay on the sidelines of his family’s ongoing evening mélée. With the old gray cat to keep him company, it was Mitchell’s first attempt at the pineapple ice cream recipe that Everett had sent—after Uma had called him with the news of Madrid, the danger, and the joy of her upcoming marriage to Mitchell.

Everett and Uma would always be tied together, as friends, and Mitchell understood her need to tell him, to invite him to their home.

Mitchell frowned slightly; Clarence had returned, stiffly rejecting any approach from Mitchell and reprimanding Uma. He was entrenched in the Lawrence house, refusing to visit their home. Uma stayed firmly with Mitchell while wooing her father gently. Mitchell knew how persuasive she could be.

Inside the house, negotiations weren’t going well on any front: Dani had no immediate plans for college after completing her high school equivalency course; she wanted to revel in her family. Shelly balked at the church wedding that
was important for Roman to give her, and Grace and Mrs. Craig thought it important that Dani have a coming-out party, to announce her new last name when the legalities were completed.

Amid the feminine skirmishes, Roman was losing, struggling for calm and reasoning.

Finally, the lone warrior slammed out of the house and plopped down on the bench beside Mitchell. “Let me churn that thing. It’s a madhouse in there. Dresses and parties and petit fours and Shelly—well, Shelly is going to have to be tied and shoved into a church, and soon. She’s the only woman I’ve ever had to push into marriage, the first one. It’s not doing much for my ego. This is going to be our only wedding, and we need to do it up right, with all the trimmings.”

Despite the thickening ice cream, Roman worked furiously at turning the handle. “According to Everett, that ice cream should ripen. You can stop turning it now,” Mitchell advised.

Roman’s groan was long and weary, reflecting his frustration. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by her, or by Dani. Maybe I should get work somewhere and save up to buy a house—”

“Dani won’t go for you leaving and neither would Shelly.”

“I don’t know if I can make the garage pay off, not here. If we were in Daytona or Indianapolis or any big city, I could go for a custom racing car business, or bikes. But not in Madrid. I could end up fighting a losing battle, and that would be just like Dad. I can’t do that to Shelly, not what he did to Grace.”

“I don’t know why you can’t have that business here, build specialty cars or bikes. It’s all in advertising, and you’ve got contacts, don’t you?”

“Sure, contacts…” Roman turned to Mitchell, his eyes lighting. “You’re saying have them come here. Or ship to them.”

“Right.”

Roman nodded, examining the new idea. “I’m a really good mechanic. I could do that.”

He listened to the raging feminine debate about churches and coming-out parties, the whens and wheres and hows not agreeing, then sighed slowly. “It’s nice out here. No wonder you took up this ice cream making, using the old-fashioned hand churn, instead of the electric one. You’re hiding out.”


Now
you’ve got it. I think we should split the land half and half, twenty and twenty acres. Uma should have a new house, one we’ve built together—that’s important to her and to me. She’ll need a proper office, not a converted bedroom. I want to garden and raise big, fat tomatoes. Basically, I like being a yard man. I’ll keep my jobs in town, too. My first project is the city park. I can’t wait to get started on that—a next spring job, if I can get the city council to agree.”

Roman stared blankly at him. “There’s no way I can buy half from you. I’m broke.”

Mitchell served Roman the plan he’d been considering for a month. “You won’t be. I was a top sales executive. You build ’em, I’ll market ’em. And Dani can have that little spread she wants so badly. Warren and Warren. Think about it.”

Mitchell nudged his brother as the women’s voices rose. “I’m needed inside.”

He stood and stretched and inhaled the roses that would soon be gone. Clarence was in the next yard, trying to appear busy while he was obviously interested in the houseful of women. “Hey, Clarence. Would you mind coming over and checking on this ice cream, seeing how long it needs to ripen? I’ve got to go inside,” Mitchell said casually, but hoped that the older man would take the invitation.

“I’ll think about it,” Roman said quietly.

“You’re good at what you do, and I’m really good at what I do, which is negotiation business—and right now, I’m needed inside.”

Mitchell stepped into his kitchen to find Shelly with her
arms crossed. Dani was glaring at her. “I’m not leaving my family to go to any college. I’m staying right here.”

“You need a coming-out party,” Mrs. Craig said. “I want people to know my granddaughter.”

Grace looked as if she thought every inch of reconciliation and family togetherness could be shredded, and Uma was frantically jotting down notes. “Let me have that, dearest,” Mitchell said lightly.

He ran down the list of notations she had made. “Okay, let’s cut to the bottom line. Everyone wants something different, but this is how it will work—first of all, everyone back off Shelly. She has to
want
a wedding like that herself, and you’re all pressuring her too much.”

“Oh, I want a wedding. I just don’t want all the
fuss
.”

“Check. I’ll handle the wedding.”

Uma stared blankly at him. “But Mitchell—”

He leaned down to kiss her parted lips. “It’s just a wedding. How much more difficult can it be than managing a national sales meeting? And Dani, you’re right about staying with family, because that’s important to you now. Meanwhile—Uma, research what college classes she can take through the computer or mail or television. Shell, see that she gets tested for abilities. The high school counselor will help. We’ll put together a package she can work on right here. It’s called teamwork, and we’re all players. I’ll plan her coming-out party.”

He smiled at the women. “See? Now you can all focus on me, and not each other. I’m a manager, and a very good one. This is all going to run smoothly, with your cooperation. Once this initial rough patch is over, you can return to your designated duties, but for right now, I’m assigning them.”

He placed his hand on
The Smooth Moves List
and left it there just long enough to watch Uma’s anxious expression, wondering if he would expose her secrets. Of course not; he wanted Uma’s secrets all for himself.

“First of all, this is a really good book about relationships. I want each of you to use it as a study guide on give and take. This whole operation depends on cooperation of involved departments. I want a list from Shelly of what she would like in her wedding. We’ll work from there. Get on it, Shell. And while you’re at it, confer with Uma. You might want to make it a double wedding. Uma, I’ll need a list from you as to what you want in a wedding. We might get all the plans to dovetail nicely…if all parties agree. I remain neutral and flexible. My only definite, unchangeable goal is to marry Uma—and soon.”

In the gaping silence, with the women staring blankly at him, Mitchell nodded and left the house. Roman and Clarence were talking quietly, a towel draped over the wooden ice cream churn. “Let’s get out of here,” Mitchell said as the silence grew inside the house. He picked up the tomcat, and when it purred, he tucked it under his arm, petting it.

“Let’s go down to the ice cream shop and hide out. I’ve got a feeling it won’t be safe here much longer.”

“You’re taking that tomcat?” Clarence asked, obviously wanting to make friends with the animal as it watched him warily.

“Sure. You can feed him your ice cream. He’ll like that.”

 

A month and a half later, Uma lifted her face to the October chill and noted the last of the roses in Lauren’s garden caught by the early frost. She wrapped her shawl around her, nestling inside the soft familiar wool. Next summer they would bud and bloom in rich, vibrant colors, just like the love between Mitchell and her.

But then Lauren’s house would be another woman’s; Grace had come through a terrible journey to be reunited with her sons. Their relationship needed more mending, because the road to family had been deep and wounding. But the Warrens, all of them, were working on peace and “give and take.”

Uma slowly swept her hand over a frost-nipped bud. “Don’t worry, little rose. Next year, you’ll bloom on Warren land. You came from the past and endured and brought me the pleasure of other lives, the settlers, and the families here in Madrid. I’m the Keeper, they say, and I’m keeping you.”

I’ll always be with you…
“Yes, you will, Lauren. We’ll always remember you, keeping you with us.”

Warren and Warren’s first project had been to build two matching chests in the garage, beautiful, big walnut chests to hold portions of Lauren’s life, a friend Shelly and Uma had loved dearly. The brothers worked and talked together now, and often a rich, unexpected chuckle escaped Mitchell. Uma hoarded the sound with pleasure as she listened.

She was in life’s swift-moving lane now, hers and Mitchell’s, not an outsider, hiding away from a life of richness and depth.

Uma looked at her hands and instead of Lauren’s blood, she found the gold and promise and love of Mitchell’s wedding band.

At a sound, she turned to see the man she loved watching her, his expression shielded as it was when he thought of the baby she’d lost—and the lingering doubt that he could make her happy.

Uma walked slowly toward him. “When one loves with an open heart, anything is possible.”

“When an exciting woman snuggles close to a hungry man, she can expect—” Mitchell gathered her close against him and nuzzled her hair. His lips nibbled at her earlobe and he blew softly into her ear. The familiar erotic technique brought the sensual quiver she couldn’t hide and would get him everything they both wanted.

Uma laughed outright at the unexpected flirtation, the joyous sound curling into the fragrant garden, to be carried on the timeless Oklahoma wind…

About the Author

CAIT LONDON
is a national award-winning, bestselling author who fully enjoys the perks of her career, like traveling and meeting readers.

Cait’s contemporary, fast-moving style blends romance with suspense and humor, and brings characters to life by using their pasts and heritages. Her books are filled with elements of her own experiences as a scenic and wildlife artist, a photographer, a mountain hiker, a gardener, a seamstress, a professional woman, and a homemaker. She also enjoys computers and reading, aromatherapy and herbs.

Of German-Russian heritage, Cait grew up in rural Washington State. She is now a resident of Missouri and the mother of three daughters, all taller than she.

The best events in her life have always been in threes, her good luck number. Cait London says, “I enjoy creating romantic collisions between dangerous, brooding heroes and contemporary, strong, active women who know how to manage their lives. I believe that each of my books is a gift to a reader, a part of me on those pages, and I’m thrilled when readers say, ‘That was a good book.’”

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