The Only Man for Her Read online

  SHE NEEDED A BATH and a bed, but more than that, she needed answers.

  Yet she realized if she pressed Matt too hard, he could very well withdraw again. But he’d definitely had a breakthrough when he’d spoken about his mother, and she hoped to find out more.

  While Matt cleaned up the kitchen, at his insistence, Rachel wandered into the den and surveyed the built-in shelves that flanked the stone fireplace. The mementos served as a chronology of their marriage, from souvenir glasses to fossils they’d found on their frequent hikes. She immediately went for the photo album on the middle shelf and brought it to the sofa. She settled onto the black leather cushions and opened it to the first plastic-protected page. Front and center in the album, the snapshot featuring the bride and groom and handsome, silver-haired Judge Jack that Helen had taken on their wedding day. She couldn’t help but smile over how young Matt looked, but then so did she. Perhaps because they were young. Maybe too young.

  “Do you want me to get the empty boxes out of the trailer?”

  Rachel looked back to find Matt standing behind the sofa. “Not tonight. I’m too tired to pack anything.” Hopefully by Sunday evening, there would be no need to pack. That depended solely on Matt’s cooperation and his reaction to the baby news, once she gathered the courage to tell him.

  When he sat down beside her, she rested one half of the album in her lap and the other half in his. “We were such babies back then.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, we were. Hard to believe it’s been almost fourteen years. Seems like only yesterday I was carrying you over the threshold of this very cabin.”

  She pointed to one photo in the corner of the second page. “Here I am, the blushing bride on her honeymoon. That pink flannel robe was so sexy.”

  He draped his right arm over the back of the sofa and inched closer. “It was sexier lying on the floor. But I have to tell you, I almost expected you to be wearing footed pajamas underneath.”

  Rachel laughed. “I wasn’t quite that hopeless. Maybe it wasn’t the most revealing white gown, but it was still a gown.” White and lacy and, yes, long.

  He tucked her hair behind her ear and studied her eyes. “You were beautiful. You still are.”

  It would be much too easy to fall into old patterns—Matt looking at her with undisguised desire in his incredible blue eyes, her offering herself up like the foolish female she could be in his presence.

  In order to avoid old habits, she turned the page to the next set of pictures and focused on that. “Oh, my gosh. I’d almost forgotten the time we went tubing in Townsend.”

  Matt chuckled. “I’ve never forgotten it. You flipped your tube and lost your bikini top.”

  Heat started at the base of her throat and spread to her cheeks. “That was your fault. If you hadn’t been harassing me, I wouldn’t have reached for you and fallen off. Thank heavens there weren’t any children nearby.”

  “And if I hadn’t loaned you my T-shirt, you would still be in that river.” He rubbed his shadowed jaw. “I don’t know what I appreciated more, you being topless for a few seconds, or you in a wet T-shirt on the drive home. It’s a toss-up.”

  “If my memory serves me correctly, you couldn’t wait to get your T-shirt back the minute we walked into this cabin.”

  “And best I recall, I took it off, right here on this very couch. We never made it to the bedroom.”

  Rachel’s heart beat a little faster when she remembered how unrestrained they’d been. How totally hot they’d been for each other. She flipped to another page, another photograph. Something a little safer to discuss. “And here’s the picture of the gang down at the dance hall.” Gang as in their local friends, most retirement age or better. They’d always been the youngest couple in the unincorporated town of Wayhurst.

  Matt pointed to one fortysomething couple in the photograph. “What were their names?”

  “Josie and Brad something. They owned the cabin closest to the chapel. Helen told me they sold it because they divorced.”

  “Too bad. They were a nice couple.”

  She and Matt had always had that reputation, as well. And look at them now. “I know. It’s sad, really. They seemed so happy.”

  “I’m sure we seem that way to most folks around here, too.”

  Rachel dreaded telling their friends, especially Helen and Judge Jack. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to. She tried not to be too optimistic, but she felt as if she and Matt had reached a turning point. A place where they could talk and reminisce without all the recent relationship garbage getting in the way.

  She closed the book to their past and mentally searched for a transition into his. “You really should bring some photos from your dad’s house and let me put together an album for you.”

  He frowned. “What for?”

  If for no other reason, for the sake of his unborn child. “You said you have some good memories of your mother. Why not put those in a memory book where you can actually see them?”

  “I don’t need any visual reminders. Every moment I spent with her is branded in my brain, good and bad.”

  She refused to let the slight edge of anger in his tone deter her. “You mentioned the bad memories earlier. It might help to talk about those. Then you could begin to focus on the good.”

  He sat forward and swiped both hands over his face. “I don’t care to talk about her tonight.”

  The next suggestion was risky and would probably lead to another conversation dead end. “Okay, then let’s talk about what happened the day Caleb was born.”

  “Drop it, Rachel.”

  Definitely a dead end. Matt’s mastery of shutting down emotionally wasn’t anything new for her, but she still found it bothersome and exasperating. Maybe she was simply expecting too much from him. Maybe she’d done exactly what she’d vowed not to do—put too much pressure on him. But if they couldn’t come together on the issue of his secrecy, they had no hope for reconciliation.

  Part of her wanted to gently pursue the issue further, but fatigue had begun to set in. As badly as she hated to give up, she needed sleep. She’d try again tomorrow. “Okay, I’ll drop it. For now.”

  When she pushed off the sofa, Matt caught her wrist. “You don’t know what you’re asking when you want me to go back there.”

  She knew exactly what she was asking—for him to be the husband she needed him to be. “I’m only asking you to share all your life with me, past and present, like spouses are supposed to do. You originally said you didn’t want a divorce, yet for months you haven’t been willing to make the changes that could help repair our relationship. I need you to try to be more open with me. I want to be the person you lean on for a change, not the other way around.”

  He let her arm go and sighed. “I wish I could be like you, Rachel, willing and able to discuss my feelings with anyone who’ll listen, but that’s never been me. It never will be.”

  Rachel felt totally deflated and borderline defeated. “Then I think we’re done here.” If not done for good. “I need to shower and go to bed.”

  “As far as the bed thing’s concerned, we should—”

  “Don’t say it, Matt.”

  “Don’t say what?”

  “That we should sleep together.”

  A hint of anger flashed in his eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ve made it real clear where you stand on that issue. Before you jumped to conclusions, I was going to suggest you sleep in the master bedroom because you’ll be more comfortable there. Excuse me for trying to be accommodating.”

  She experienced a tiny bite of guilt over her assumption, but considering his usual behavior, her suspicions were justified. Then again, he hadn’t made any suggestive overtures, and that should tell her something. What, she wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry I misunderstood. I’m just really, really tired.” And really, really disappointed.

  He came to his feet and gathered their bags. “Your thinking the worst of me is a little hard to take, but I guess on some level it’s deserved
.”

  Rachel was taken aback by the admission. “You were just trying to be considerate, and I overreacted.”

  “Exhaustion will do that to you.”

  So would frustration. “I honestly don’t mind sleeping in the guest room on the daybed. Since you need more room than I do, you should take the king.”

  “I insist you take it.”

  She didn’t have the energy for an all-out debate. “Okay, if you insist.” She held out her hand. “Hand me my stuff. I can take it from here.”

  He played keep-away with her bag. “I’m sure you can, but I’m going to do the gentlemanly thing and walk you to the room. If you’re worried I’m going to force my way in, don’t. I won’t invade your personal space without your permission, darlin’.”

  She’d obviously angered him more than she’d originally thought. “Fine. Lead the way.”

  Rachel followed behind Matt as they walked down the corridor in total silence. Once they reached the master bedroom, he held open the door and stepped aside for her to enter first. Everything was in its place, from the bed to the bureau and the small forest-green club chair in the corner. And right beside that…the maple cradle that had been Matt’s when he was a baby, carefully crafted by his father. She’d completely forgotten they’d brought it with them last summer, during the only trip to the cabin they’d taken the previous year.

  “Do you want me to get rid of it?”

  An unexpected surge of resentment spun Rachel around to face him. “Like you did with the nursery furniture before I left the hospital?”

  “So we’re back to that, huh?”

  She yanked the duffel from his grasp. “We’ve never resolved it, Matt. Please explain to me why you believe that by taking away any reminders, I’ll suddenly forget about our son.”

  She expected to see absolute fury in his expression, but he only looked resigned. “I didn’t expect you to forget. I thought I was making things easier on you.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “You’ve made that fairly clear the last four months. And just so you know, whatever decisions I’ve made to this point, I’ve always had your well-being in mind. Maybe they weren’t the best choices, and maybe they were wrong, but I made them because I loved you.”

  Matt left, closing the door behind him, while Rachel stood in the middle of the room, clutching the bag to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Of all the words he’d said, one weighted her heart like a sack of stones.

  Loved. Past tense.

  The thought that Matt might not love her was almost too much to bear. That might actually help her make a clean break, but the only break right now was happening in her heart. As much as she wanted to know—needed to know—if they could resolve their problems, she worried she’d waited too long to try to mend their marriage.

  * * *

  WHEN HE SAW the shadowy figure move in front of the French doors, Matt sat up on the edge of the daybed. His wife obviously couldn’t sleep and neither could he. But he couldn’t imagine why she was having a problem settling down in their top-grade bed, while he’d been assigned to a too-short, too-narrow mattress that was about as comfortable as a cement slab. His excuse for not being able to sleep. One of them.

  For well over an hour he’d been replaying their last conversation in his mind, and he’d come to recognize that Rachel hadn’t asked that much of him. She only wanted honesty and answers that he’d been hard-pressed to give. Providing those answers meant tearing open old wounds, and that wasn’t something he readily embraced. Maybe doing so might even lessen some of the burden he’d been carrying around for years. He owed it to her to try.

  The trees afforded enough privacy that he could walk outside in his birthday suit, even with the half-moon hanging overhead. He’d done it before. Many times. But he didn’t want to offend Rachel’s delicate sensibilities, so he climbed out of bed, rummaged through his bag and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. After he dressed, he opened the double doors to find her standing at the balcony, her long hair falling down her back in soft waves, which told him she’d gone to bed with it wet. She wore the crazy nightshirt with the caricature horse print he’d given her two Christmases ago, along with a pair of thick socks. Funny, he’d never seen anyone look so sexy in flannel.

  In order not to startle her, he cleared his throat before he stepped onto the wooden deck. She sent him only a brief glance before staring off into space again.

  He moved beside her, keeping enough distance so he didn’t crowd her. “Trouble sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too. I slept too much on the drive here. It’s also kind of hard to close your eyes when you can’t turn off your brain.”

  “True.”

  Her one-word answers told him he was getting nowhere fast. He could give up and go back to bed, or he could just dive in with the revelations from the distant past. Time to take the plunge and hope he didn’t drown in the memories. “My mother was cold-natured, just like you. She used to turn on the heater when it was sixty degrees outside.”

  “That sounds familiar.” She surprised him with a smile. “What was she like, aside from being cold-natured?”

  The time had come to see how far he could go with the disclosures without falling apart. He might be willing to bleed, but he’d be damned if he’d suffer a breakdown in front of his wife. “She wanted to be a dancer,” he began. “She also liked to sing.”

  “Was she good at it?” she asked.

  “Not really, but she was loud. She said singing helped her cope with the pain.” The memories came back, sharp as a switchblade, immobilizing him for a few moments. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “She loved flowers. Her favorite was the snowdrop because it symbolized hope. She said she wanted to hold hope in her hands for as long as she could. My dad used to leave one on her pillow every now and then. He still does.”

  She sighed. “I can’t imagine being loved that much.”

  If that was the case, then he’d failed her more than he’d realized. “Everyone loved her. She was just that kind of person.”

  She faced him and leaned a hip against the railing. “I wish I’d known her better. I only remember seeing her a few times when she picked you up from school.”

  “She pretty much stopped leaving the house when she had to rely on the wheelchair to get around. Aside from her immobility, you’d never know she was sick, because she didn’t let that stop her. And she never complained. She just kept right on going until the MS wouldn’t let her go any longer. That’s when I had to step in and help her when my dad was at work.”

  “I’m sure she appreciated having you around.”

  His wife, always looking for the sunny side of a cloudy situation. But if he continued, he was in for some stormy weather. He had to keep going to prove to Rachel he could share his past with her, even the ugly parts. “I wasn’t around when it counted the most. I wasn’t there when she died.”

  She sent him a sympathetic look. “It’s not your fault you weren’t there. You were at baseball camp that summer.”

  For years he’d tried to convince himself of that, but it hadn’t worked. “I could’ve been there. I had a choice—go or stay home. I chose to go, and I did because I wanted to get away from all of it. I wanted to be a kid and hang out with my friends, and I’ll regret it for as long as I live.”

  “You were a kid, Matt.”

  “A kid who knew his mother was going die and he left her anyway.”

  “How could you have known that’s what would happen?”

  Now came the toughest part, the admission that would cost him almost as much as the other one he couldn’t yet make. “The day before I left, she told me to take care of Dad because he was going to need me. Looks like I didn’t do such a hot job reading the signs or the taking-care-of-Dad thing.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “You were barely thirteen. You shouldn’t have had to take responsibility for your father. And whethe
r you stayed or went wouldn’t have changed your mother’s outcome.”

  It might have erased his guilt. “If she’d asked, I swear I would’ve stayed.”

  “I know you would have, because that’s the kind of person you are. But did you ever consider that she wanted your last memories of her to be good ones?”

  He smiled at the recollection in spite of his own pain. “They were good memories. Right before I left, we worked together on a jigsaw puzzle all day long. A big puzzle of New York. We talked about all the things I just told you, and we finally finished it at midnight. I kept telling her we could go back to it when I came home from camp, but she wanted to keep going until we were done. She said she wanted to see the New York City skyline again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah. One summer my dad served as a woodworking apprentice in upstate New York, and that’s where they met. She even drove him into the city to see a couple of Broadway musicals.”

  “It’s hard for me to imagine your dad getting all dressed up and going to a theater,” she said.

  “Me, too, but I figure he did it for her. She told me she’d always wanted to be a dancer. But then they got married at the end of the summer and came back to Mississippi.”

  “Wow. Married after a three-month courtship. It must have been love at first sight, huh?”

  He was way too cynical to believe in that. “More like a youthful lack of common sense.”

  “You could say the same thing about us.”

  He probably could, but he wouldn’t. “We were different. We knew each other longer than three months. And neither of us asked the other to give up our dreams when we got married.”

  She dropped her hand from his arm. “Maybe she didn’t see it that way. Sometimes you simply make sacrifices for those you love.”

  Matt wondered if his goals had overshadowed hers. “Have you ever felt like you’ve sacrificed too much for the sake of my career?”

  She shook her head. “I wanted the clinic to succeed as much as you did. I’ve always been proud of the life we’ve built together.”

  Yet she’d been willing to throw it all away. He didn’t want to get into that now. He only wanted to prolong the conversation, spend as much time with her as he could before they returned to separate beds, even if it required more gut spilling.