Double Wedding Ring (20 page)

“Of course, I expected it to be difficult,” Susan said. “Mother told me it would be, the whole nine months.”

Everyone laughed.

Sam directed a private smile of his own at Malorie, then said to Susan, “No wonder you waited twenty years to try again. How tough was Cody's birth?”

Malorie said, “She doesn't remember that one yet. Do you, Mother?”

“Yes, I—” Susan stopped, because suddenly it was true. She stared at her daughter and watched the color drain from Malorie's cheeks. “Yes, I remember. It was even harder.”

Because watching her daughter give birth had been far more difficult than going through it herself.

Malorie looked away. Susan leaned over and took her daughter's hand. It was cold.

* * *

S
USAN LAY IN THE DARK
that night and waited for Malorie to come, as she always did, after putting Cody to bed. Her daughter came at last and stood by the door.

“Come here,” Susan said, and reached out for her daughter.

Malorie didn't move. Her voice was laced with anguish. “You remember.”

“Some of it. What happened? Why are we doing this?”

“Do we have to talk about it?”

“Please. I need to understand. He's your baby, not mine. Why are we pretending?”

“We thought— It seemed like the right thing. For him. For me, too. That's what...that's what everybody said.”

“Buddy said that?” Susan wished she could see her daughter's face, but the soft light from her bedside lamp didn't carry as far as the door. All she could see was shadows. “Is it what I wanted? What you wanted?”

“Dad went along with it,” Malorie said. “We just... I was only nineteen. And...I don't know. We just did it. Okay?”

“Were you in love with someone?”

“Mother, don't. Please don't.”

“But—”

“I'm going up to bed now, Mother. Please, let's just let it be now. I'm trying to...to start over. Please?”

Susan thought of the secret smiles Sam and Malorie had shared that afternoon and knew what her daughter was asking. Don't let her past come back to haunt her now, just when the future looked so bright. How could she explain that she had learned the hard way how the past would forever haunt the future as long as it was based on lies?

She sighed. “I understand. I love you, Malorie.”

Malorie ran over to the bed, grabbed her mother for an intense hug. In the golden light, Susan saw tears glistening on her daughter's eyelashes. Malorie ran out of the room before Susan could think of words of comfort.

* * *

M
ALORIE HAD AGREED
to the date with Sam before her mother remembered the truth. Otherwise she might not have said yes.

But she wanted it so badly. She hadn't dated in more than three years and she ached to live normally. So she prayed Susan would say nothing and went on with her plans, eager to pretend her life wasn't littered with landmines waiting to explode.

Still, she was glad there was no hint of romance about the date Sam had suggested. They would be alone in a canoe on Lake Mabila, but there would be no candlelight or starlight or champagne. Bundled in jeans and sweaters and heavy socks, with a canoe strapped to Sam's van, they set out on Saturday morning. Sam had even coerced his uncle into opening the store in Malorie's place.

The December dawn broke as clear and cold as an icicle. Peeking through the towering pines, the sky was as blue as Sam's eyes. White clouds billowed upward and sunshine gradually warmed their cheeks and glinted off the water. Alone on the lake at midmorning, they stopped rowing. Malorie thought the morning fit the mood she wanted to have, if not her actual mood. Looking up, the sky went on forever; looking down, the water was bottomless.

Looking at Sam, the possibilities were infinite.

“You're strong,” Sam said, taking her oar and stacking it with his against the side of the small boat. He poured two cups of hot chocolate from a thermos jug, handed one to her and sat back to sip and stare.

Laughing, Malorie bent one elbow and made a fist. “There's muscle under there somewhere.”

His eyes grew serious. “And courage. More than I gave you credit for. I hope someday you'll tell me where all that strength came from.”

Malorie pretended to rearrange her hair, which hadn't budged since she secured it beneath a knit cap three hours earlier. “Does it have to come from somewhere?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. “We aren't born with courage. We earn it from walking through the fire. It's waiting for us on the other end.”

In her heart, Malorie knew she didn't have the kind of courage he was talking about. “What fire did you walk through?”

“Growing up without a father, I guess.” He looked around at their magnificent surroundings, as Malorie had done minutes earlier. “Although, seeing what I see in my work every day, I think I haven't seen much fire in my life. Not yet. Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe I get to learn a lot secondhand from the people I work with.”

“Maybe that's what happened to me,” Malorie said. “Going through this with Mother, maybe that's changed me.”

“I'm sure that's true.” He looked at her speculatively. “Maybe that's part of it.”

Malorie didn't want to leave the conversation where it was. The day was too beautiful, too perfect, to worry about where that discussion might take them if she left it to follow its own course. She sought a diversionary tactic.

“Why do you stay in Sweetbranch? Do you think about leaving?”

“I used to think about leaving. All the time. Then I went away to school and I realized I couldn't wait to get back.”

“Why?”

He put his hands behind his head and stared up as if the answers were in the treetops. “I think I hated being someplace where I had no connection. I grew up worrying that my family was going to be yanked out from under me any minute, and suddenly, after I moved to Birmingham, I was right. It was yanked.”

He smiled at her. “Then, when I got back to Sweetbranch, I realized how much family I had. You know, in the Dairee Dreme I'd been going to all my life and the church I'd hated getting dressed for on Sunday mornings and the dinky little stadium where we watched high school football. It was all there. Nobody was going to take that away.”

In the short time she'd been in Sweetbranch, Malorie knew the feeling. But she also knew it wasn't hers to keep.

Sam sat forward, passed her oar back. “I knew it was the kind of place I wanted to raise a son.”

Their eyes met over the handle of her oar. A knot of fear sprang up in Malorie's chest. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

As they continued navigating the lake, Malorie found herself thinking about raising a son in Sweetbranch. Her fear ricocheted around those visions.

That Saturday was the first of many dates. Dates to movies and dates for cherries jubilee milkshakes at the Dairee Dreme and even dinner at Sam's little farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Malorie loved the little house. White frame, with cheery green shutters, it was cozy and tidy and surrounded by the quiet of the countryside.

She thought about raising a son here, too. She even thought about unearthing a lot of the feelings she'd fought so hard to bury almost three years earlier when she found herself abandoned and feeling disgraced.

When Sam kissed her, she found nothing to taint the purity of their passion. In his arms, she felt whole and cleansed and ready to give again. The fear was slipping away, and Malorie let it go gladly.

Best of all, Sam always knew when it was wise to stop. Malorie was grateful and wanted to tell him so, but didn't know how. Then he did that for her, as well.

“I just don't want to go too far,” he said. “I hope you don't think this is too old-fashioned, but...I'd like us to be committed first.”

Emotion clogged Malorie's throat. “I don't think that's old-fashioned.”

“Maybe more than committed. I think I'd like to wait until... Well, I think it's best for a couple to wait until they're married.”

Her fear came roaring back. And with it, a heavy load of guilt. How could she ever tell him the truth?

S
USAN HELD HER BREATH
as the ski lift began to rise. She clutched Tag's hand—how many times had she done that today?—and tried to look in every direction at once. She'd done that more than once today, too.

“Scared?” Tag asked as the ground grew farther away and the sky came closer.

Susan shook her head. “Excited.”

Tag laughed and put an arm around her shoulder. “Good.”

Reluctant when Tag had suggested an overnight outing, Susan had given in only when Sam and Malorie ganged up on her and urged her to go along. Whatever objection she came up with, they had a ready answer.

So they loaded up Susan and Malorie's new van, despite Betsy's white-lipped disapproval, and took off for the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.

Tag had promised it would be beautiful this time of year, and he'd been right. The little towns along the way were alive with bundled-up, red-cheeked people going about their holiday shopping. The mountaintops were lightly dusted with snow, and towering pines brushed a sky so bright it almost hurt Susan's eyes. She gloried in the drive through the national forest, as thrilled as someone who'd never before seen such natural wonders.

The road out of the mountains dropped them right onto the main thoroughfare of picturesque Gatlinburg. Although Susan remained apprehensive as they parked and Tag unloaded her chair, she tried to focus on the row of quaint shops sitting at the foot of the mountains. She felt the nip of cool mountain air on her cheeks.

Soon she began to realize there was nothing she couldn't do with Tag's strong arms to back up her own determination. They had shopped, loading up Susan's lap with holiday gifts for everyone. They had eaten lunch at a chalet-style restaurant nestled at the foot of a mountain. While warming up over hot chocolate, Susan had spotted the tourists taking the ski lift to the top. And when Tag saw the wistful look in her eyes, he was determined that they, too, would take the lift to the top.

Far below her now, Susan could see her wheelchair sitting on the deck. She'd thought the effort to get from chair to lift would be too tough, might embarrass everyone, but no one seemed to begrudge the extra effort. Least of all Tag. His face shone with the same excitement she felt as they inched their way to the top of the mountain. She couldn't help but notice he was barely looking at the spectacular scenery.

“You really don't mind,” she said, without realizing she'd said it aloud.

“Mind what?”

“That things are...harder. With me around, I mean.”

The pleasure in his eyes softened to tenderness. “Why in the world should I mind? Do you know how different the whole world looks to me with you at my side?”

She nodded, because she knew it felt that way to her. Her life with Buddy had been good, but the contrast between that life and the way she felt with Tag was the difference between Willow Creek and the Atlantic Ocean. Willow Creek was quiet and pleasant, a perfectly good place to spend the day. But the Atlantic filled your senses and sent your emotions soaring and never let you forget for a moment what a blessing it was to be alive.

Someday, Susan hoped, she would be able to find the words for all those feelings so she could tell Tag. She was determined that day would come, just as the day would come when she could walk at Tag's side.

“It won't always be this way.” The simple promise was all she knew to offer him.

He looked at her, his dark eyes solemn, then kissed first the corner of one eye, then the other.

“It doesn't matter if it is,” he whispered. “You don't have to be perfect for my life to
feel
perfect.”

How many times had he said something similar these past weeks? But Susan didn't even try to believe it. She
would
be perfect again. And then they could get on with their lives.

“You'll see,” she said, pressing her lips to his cheek. If she tried really, really hard, she thought, maybe that could be her Christmas present to Tag.

And to herself.

* * *

D
OWNTOWN
A
TLANTA
fascinated Cody, and his enthusiasm fascinated Malorie. The little boy wanted to greet the bedraggled Santas ringing their bells on street corners. He wanted to ride one of the noisy, smelly city buses, although he covered his ears and squinted every time one passed. He wanted to explore the street construction and the sidewalk hot dog vendors and every single window of every single store, as well as the dark alleys leading off the street between the department stores.

“We aren't here to explore,” Malorie said, grateful when Sam finally picked the boy up to carry him the rest of the way. “We're here to buy Christmas presents for everybody. Won't that be fun, too?”

She and Sam exchanged a wry grin when Cody's only reply was to look wistfully over Sam's shoulder at the battered orange cones barricading a storm drain worksite.

“Trust me,” Malorie said as they approached the revolving doors at one of the department stores. “You're going to love the T-O-Y department.”

Cody looked back at her and said, “T-O-Y. Toy.”

She groaned. Sam tugged on the bill of the toddler's cap. “Something tells me you've been sitting on your mama's lap while she works on the computer.”

Cody grinned widely and nodded.

Bursting with pride, Malorie paused at the perfume counter just inside the door of the department store, pretending interest in the displays so she could compose herself. She'd spent so little time with Cody the first two years of his life that at times like this her love for him seemed to grow by leaps and bounds. He was smart and funny, and just looking at him made her heart glad.

And sad, for all that was lost.

But seeing him with Sam was hardest of all, she thought as she pretended to sniff at the samples on the glass countertop. Seeing the son she couldn't acknowledge in the arms of the man who wanted to make a future with her, that was a bitter pill to swallow. She hadn't realized how tough it would be to see the two of them together when she'd agreed to a shopping trip.

“Wanna see toys,” Cody said, tugging on her sleeve.

Drawing a long, silent breath, Malorie looked up into their faces, expectant and happy and flushed from the cold.

“Okay,” she said, kissing Cody's chubby knuckles. “Toys it is.”

They spent longer than they should have in the toy department, but both Sam and Malorie took as much delight in watching Cody as the boy took in petting stuffed dinosaurs and setting toy trains in motion. All three of them were reluctant to leave, but Cody finally agreed without a fuss when Malorie promised another toy department in another store later in the day.

By lunchtime, their arms were loaded with shopping bags filled with cuddly bathrobes, color-splashed neckties and a dozen other items that would soon be brightly wrapped and stashed under a tree. Malorie's favorite purchase was the pink-cheeked baby doll for the little girl whose tag she had taken from the angel tree at church.

“Okay,” she said, passing an overstuffed shopping bag to Sam. “You hold on to this and watch Cody while I run into the ladies' room. Then we'll grab some lunch and—”

She glanced around, and the blood froze in her veins. “Where's Cody?”

Sam looked down. “Right... He was right here. I—”

“Cody!”

Sam dropped shopping bags and packages to the floor. He took her hand in his. “Now, don't panic. He's just wandered away. He's right around here somewhere, you'll see.”

“Okay. I'm sure you're right.”

But her voice was shaky, and so were her knees. She didn't want to let go of Sam, but it made sense for them to separate. She could hear Sam calling to the boy as he headed toward the luggage and she headed toward the linens. Her mouth was dry and her heart all but pounding right out of her chest.

When Sam returned twenty minutes later, he was empty-handed and so was she.

Cody was gone.

* * *

T
HE WINDOW FROM THE ROOM
at the lodge looked out over a winter wonderland. Nestled into the foot of the mountain, it overlooked a stream Tag said was the Little Pigeon River. The night sky glittered with stars and the snow-covered slopes rose until the darkness swallowed them. The sparkle of holiday lights defined the rustic rails of the lodge and the faint sound of carolers wafted up to the room.

Susan couldn't take her eyes off the scene.

“You aren't eating,” Tag said.

She smiled at him. “But it's so pretty out there.”

“It's pretty in here, too,” he said, and his eyes told her what he thought was pretty.

The room was pretty, too. The massive sleigh bed covered in crochet lace was one of many antiques furnishing the room. Tiny pink flowers dotted the wallpaper. And room service had rolled in an elegantly outfitted table, complete with white linen tablecloth and napkins, a silver candlestick and a crystal bud vase with one perfect white rose. They had warmed themselves with hot soup and mulled cider.

A touch of melancholy crept into Susan's heart as she realized they would have to go home the next morning. Back to the big house that echoed with bitterness and betrayal. Back to the struggle for recovery.

“You look sad,” Tag said.

“I'm not. Wishing it didn't have to end, I suppose.”

They sat in silence, holding hands across the table, listening to the faint strains of “Silent Night.”

When the caroling came to an end, Tag pushed away from the table and walked over to the canvas duffel bag he had set in a wingback chair. From the bag, he took a huge wrapped package, which he set in the middle of the bed. Then he swept Susan out of her chair and deposited her on the bed beside the package. He sat on the corner of the bed, looking at her expectantly.

“Open it.”

She smiled. “It's not Christmas yet.”

“And this isn't a Christmas present.”

Feeling the excitement in her fingertips, Susan began tugging at the wrapping paper. Soft shades of rose and green peeked at her as she peeled the paper away. Recognition bolted through her. She tore at the paper now, shredding it, laying bare the frayed but familiar Double Wedding Ring quilt.

Tears blurred the quilt. She ran her fingers over the well-worn fabric.

“Oh, Tag. How did you do this?”

He was close beside her now, helping her as she struggled to unfold the quilt, as if she needed to reassure herself that every inch of it was actually here.

“When I found out how you'd lost it, I decided I'd try to track it down. I found the junkyard where they'd towed your car after the wreck, and there it was. Somebody had stashed it in the back seat.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

“No big deal?” She looked up at him, dumbfounded, tears still making her vision blurry. “Tag, that must've been somewhere in South Carolina.”

Again he shrugged, and Susan remembered the days he had been gone on his secret mission. The days she had fretted that he was off on some adventure he would never be able to share with her. Now she knew. He had done this just for her. For them.

She kissed him, drawing his lean, lined face close to hers. She explored the sharp contours of his cheek and jaw, the thick softness of the hair spilling over his collar, the quickening pulse at his throat. She felt the wet warmth of his mouth, the strong insistence of his shoulders and thighs and chest as his body leaned into hers.

Illuminated by the candle, they lay back on the Double Wedding Ring quilt and made love, as they had so many years ago.

This time, Susan's heart told her, it was different. This time, their bodies were older, less perfect. But the fullness in their hearts was sweeter and their joining more poignant than youth could ever know.

* * *

M
ALORIE SAT IN THE HARD
, molded plastic chair in the police station, fists balled tightly in her lap, eyes unfocused, back straight. She had shut down. It was the only way she could cope. Even Sam's steady presence wasn't enough to keep the fear at bay. Her only defense was to shut everything out.

The outside door would swing open from time to time, revealing the darkness that had fallen hours earlier. Malorie wouldn't look at the clock, though; she didn't want to add up how long Cody had been gone, because she knew every tick of the clock lessened the chances that Cody would come back to her safe and sound.

That, she knew, was to be her punishment.

The young policewoman who had talked to them earlier came out, and Malorie jumped up. The officer shook her head as she approached. Malorie noticed her name tag for the first time. Detective Litanna Watkins. “Maybe you folks should go home. We'll be in touch as soon as we have something to report.”

Sam put his hand on Malorie's arm, and she knew he was about to agree.

“No! No, I can't leave! I won't leave without him!” Why couldn't they understand? And she could see in their eyes that they didn't. Not the young woman, who maybe had no children of her own. Not even Sam, who was supposed to care so much.

Detective Watkins exchanged a look with Sam. “I know how you feel, Miss Hovis, but you really need your rest. You won't be one bit of help to your little brother if you wear yourself out like this.”

The words taunted Malorie.
Little brother.
For an instant, it struck her that they would never find Cody if they didn't even know who they were looking for. Then she realized how irrational that was and wondered if the policewoman was right. She needed to rest. She was no help like this.

That didn't seem any more rational than her previous thought.

“Maybe I should go back out there and call him some more,” she said, looking at Sam, pleading with him to understand. “If he hears me, he'll come.”

Sam looked questioningly at Detective Watkins. She shook her head. Anger washed through Malorie. “You can't stop me! If that's what I want to do, you can't stop me!”