Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby. Lois Richer

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      She turned her head and stared out the window, wondering how and when this day would end. Her nerves were stretched so tight, she wanted to scream, but grabbed a handful of red shantung instead. “It really doesn’t matter.”

      With a muttered epithet, Wade pulled over to the side, out of traffic, and brought the car to an abrupt halt.

      “Yes, it does matter.” He shut off the engine, then reached out a hand to press her shoulder so she would turn around. “The only way we’re going to make it through this is to be truthful with each other. We can’t hide our feelings. Agreed?”

      She nodded, but kept her eyes downcast.

      “I liked the wedding. I especially liked your dress. You looked beautiful.” His right hand brushed across her hair, fingers rubbing it between them as if it were a fine silk.

      She heard the funny catch in his voice and wondered why it was there. “It was my grandmother’s wedding dress. She always said she’d wanted my mother to wear it, but my parents eloped. I don’t think she would have minded.” Her own voice came out in a breathy whisper, but Clarissa ignored that because her heart had just speeded up to double time.

      The fingers on his left hand closed over hers in a squeeze, then opened and threaded through hers so their hands were interlocked. She could feel his plain gold wedding band pressing against her knuckle and automatically rubbed at her own.

      “It was gorgeous…you were gorgeous.” A tiny laugh came from low in his throat. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been married before.”

      “Neither have I.” She risked a glance up at him, and found him gazing down at her with a quizzical stare. “It was pretty rushed, wasn’t it?”

      He shook his head slowly, his eyes burning into her with a steady flare glowing in their depths. “No. Actually it was perfect. All of it. You did a wonderful job.”

      There was something in his voice, something she didn’t understand. But she couldn’t look away from him.

      “Actually, I didn’t do any of it,” she babbled in a rush. “It was mostly Mrs. McLeigh….” Her voice died away, the words stuck in her throat. Nothing would come out when he kept looking at her like that.

      “Clarissa?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

      “Yes?”

      “I’m going to kiss you.”

      Clarissa blinked. How did she answer that? “Oh.”

      “Do you mind?” His mouth moved nearer, his lips very close to hers, his breath, sweetly scented with the chocolate from their wedding cake mixing with the tang of the punch they’d toasted each other with.

      Clarissa took a deep breath. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t mind.” She held her breath and closed her eyes as his mouth came down and grazed across hers. “Not at all.”

      “Good.” There was the sound of laughter in his voice. “Then would you please kiss me back?”

      She looked up at that, her eyes widening as she saw the caring in his face. He wanted this day to be special for her! That knowledge eased her fears and she slid her hands around his neck, nodding as she did.

      “I’ll try. Though I’m not very good at kissing.” Yet, she amended silently. “But I can learn.”

      Then Clarissa kissed him with all the pent-up emotion she’d kept so carefully in check during the many times their lips had met during the reception. This time there were no observers, and she tried to put her feelings for him into actions rather than words. If she was a little confused about exactly what those feelings were, well, he didn’t need to know that.

      When the kiss ended, Wade’s hands dropped away from her with obvious regret.

      “Is something wrong?” she whispered, aghast at her own nerve in kissing this man.

      “Yes,” he nodded. “Something is definitely wrong with my brain.”

      “P-pardon?” She straightened her jacket and pushed her hair back, conscious of the fact that he’d loosened the entire mass so badly that she couldn’t possibly get it back in order without a mirror and her brush.

      “I must be nuts to be sitting here on the side of the road, kissing you with the whole world watching us.”

      He jerked a hand toward the window and only then did Clarissa see the interested spectators craning their necks for a better look. Wade rolled his eyes, shook his head and then grinned at her ruefully.

      “Shall we, Mrs. Featherhawk?” he asked, almost playfully.

      “We shall.” She joined in without a second thought. “Drive on, Mr. Featherhawk.”

      After that it was simple to stop for dinner at a small wayside restaurant, to find the campground where a cabin had been rented in their name, to drive through the overhanging boughs of spruce and cedar to a small log building nestled between two massive pines.

      “It’s really lovely, isn’t it?” Clarissa stood on the porch and looked around at the beauty of God’s world shown to best advantage in the clear moonlight and a few strategically placed lights. “How kind of them to do this for us.”

      She gasped when his hands caught her up against his chest, barely managing to stifle the shriek that would have alerted the other campers, wherever they were, to their presence.

      “What are you doing?” she whispered loudly as he struggled to reach the doorknob. She leaned down and unlatched it with her free hand. The other one refused to move from its anchoring position against his neck.

      “Carrying you over the threshold. Isn’t that what you were waiting for?”

      “No!” Clarissa gasped as he lowered her to her feet, her face burning with color. “I never even thought of such a thing.”

      “Well, I want to keep up with tradition,” he mumbled, his face darkening. “Isn’t that what all the hoopla was about earlier?” Then he turned and went back out the door.

      Clarissa blinked and tried to pretend that she didn’t wonder if he was coming back. But her sigh of relief when he staggered in the door with their cases gave her away, if he’d been paying attention.

      Which he wasn’t. In fact, as he closed the door on the cabin and surveyed the rustic interior, Wade tried to convince himself that he hadn’t noticed anything about his new wife at all. That project was not a success.

      The gold band on her finger gleamed as if she’d spent the ride here polishing it. Her hair, loose and flowing down her back, just begged to be brushed until it once more resembled the sheet of burnished silver-gold that he’d glimpsed so many mornings. And that suit of hers—that blazing red drew attention like a fire engine.

      Wade didn’t like what he was feeling. None of it. He wasn’t a family kind of guy. Deep down the stark truth was that Wade didn’t believe in families. He sure as shootin’ didn’t believe in his ability to manage one. He’d only done it out of necessity.

      Maybe СКАЧАТЬ