Home for a Soldier (21 page)

She hadn’t told Rory she loved
him…she had wanted to hear him say it first. And if two people each waited for
the other to say something first, they’d end up in eternal silence.

Grace shook her head, seeing her
conduct in a new light. Had she really just walked away because she suspected
Rory didn’t love her? Rather than wait and find out? Or ask him outright? Even
fight for him. A smile burst on her face. That’s it. She had promised the
giraffes on her pajamas that she’d fight for Rory’s love, and that promise
needed to be honored. 

When Rory came back in three days’
time, no doubt to slap divorce papers on her desk, he’d get a big surprise. She
point to the shredder on the corner of her office and tell him that’s where his
divorce petition belonged.

She’d demand to be given another
chance to earn his love.

* * * *

At ten o’clock the following morning,
Grace lifted her head as Yvonne knocked on the open door of her office and
marched through bearing a tall package wrapped in cellophane.

“This came for you,” the girl said
and carefully lowered the item on the desk.

“What is it?’ Grace curled her hands
around the base and rotated the object, trying to find a clear spot in the
whirly pattern of the wrapping to peek inside. Her hands felt the humid heat,
and a faint exotic scent drifted from the folds of the cellophane.

“The girl from the florist said it’s
a white orchid. Very rare and very expensive. She said not to unwrap it until
you get home tonight, and try to protect it from the sun.”

“Oh,” was the only response Grace
managed.

“I think there’s a card,” Yvonne said
over her shoulder as she sashayed out.

Grace inspected the package, found
the little card stapled to the top. Two little hearts decorated the message,
just like the sign around Rory’s neck when she first saw him.

Pure and perfect. Just like my wife.

Pleasure mixed inside her with
confusion. What was going on?

Grace had barely finished admiring
the orchid’s delicate string of blooms when Yvonne returned and deposited a
rattling cardboard box on the floor.

“I don’t believe this.” The woman
shook her head in resignation. “Pet’s are not allowed in the office.”

“Pets?” Grace echoed. She bent to
examine the little round holes that pierced the lid, and heard the scurrying
sounds that came from inside the box.

“There’s another card.” Yvonne tried
to look annoyed but couldn’t hide her amusement. “I think there’s some serious
wooing going on here, but if there’s any more of this stuff, you’ll have to come
to the reception to get it.”

Grace found the card in an envelope
taped to the side of the box.

My name is Bunny, and I know you’ll
take good care of me.

Bemused, she shook her head. Where
was she going to put a rabbit in her rented room? The only sensible place for
the creature
would
be in the stewpot.

The framed poster came ten minutes
later. Grace tore off the wrapper decorated with tiny plum-colored cupids with
bows and arrows at the ready. Her mouth fell open. It was a picture inside a
picture—Grace in her black showgirl outfit, tacked on the side of a massive grey
armored vehicle, and Rory standing beside it. The caption beneath her picture
read
Grace Sullivan
and another two lines had been added in less precise
letters:
The wife of Rory Sullivan, so don’t get any ideas
.

All day they came, presents big and
small, all carefully selected to reflect something she had mentioned, often only
in passing. Happiness set root in her heart and quickly healed the past
bruising. It was not the show of material wealth that impressed her. Being
familiar with the accounts of Green Gables Trust, Grace knew that an extravagant
gesture would be easy for Rory. It was the thought that had gone into selecting
the gifts that filled her with joy.

I know you,
they told her.
I listened to you, and I remember
.

And I want to please you.

Make you love me.

The phone on her desk rang. Grace saw
Yvonne’s name on the display and picked up, an eager thread of anticipation
weaving inside her. “Hi Yvonne. Is there another package?”

“There’s a guy in the reception who
wants to know if he can get two days off for good behavior.” Yvonne exhaled a
sigh. “You’d better tell him it’s okay. We’re starting to run out of space. By
the way, he is carrying an enormous cuddly toy. A giraffe. What’s that supposed
to mean?”

“Let him through.” Smiling, Grace
lowered the receiver.

“Oh my God.” The words burst from her
lips when Rory, dressed in jeans and a white cotton shirt, this time freshly
laundered and fully buttoned up, struggled through the doorway. Grace gaped at
the giraffe that towered over him.

“Did you walk down Wall Street
hauling that thing?” she asked, incredulous, and at the same time trying not to
leap up and throw herself into his arms.

“Yes.” He deposited the massive
velvet animal by her desk. “His name is Colossus, and he has something for you.”

“What?” Grace bounced up from behind
the desk and circled to the animal, enjoying the warm ray of happiness that came
from the expectation that Rory was about to tell her he loved her. And if he
didn’t say it today, that didn’t matter either, because she would work at making
him realize they belonged together, and next month he would. Or next year. Or
the year after that.

“Look around his neck.”

She ran her hands along the red
ribbon tied around the giraffe’s neck and found a small object hidden in knot of
the bow. As her fingers explored the metal circle, Rory edged closer.

“You need scissors.” Instead of
offering her the pair he held in his hand, he leaned past her and clipped the
ribbon.

Grace curled her hand around the ring
that fell into her palm. Almost afraid to look, she brought her fist close to
her face and slowly eased her fingers open. A big pale sapphire that matched her
eyes glowed in the light, surrounded by the glitter of tiny diamonds. She stared
at the jewel in wonder and failed to pay attention to the rustling sounds behind
her.

“Grace, will you stay married to me?”

She spun, found Rory down on one
knee.

“I love you, Grace. I was a fool not
to realize it straight away. When you turned up in Vegas with your giraffe
pajamas and your nightly prayers and married me despite my drunken stupor, you
cracked my heart wide open. I tried not to love you. I did everything I could,
but it was stronger than me. I guess I’m stuck loving you
until death do us
part
.”

“Me too.” Grace blinked. The tears
that had gathered in her eyes broke free and streaked down her face. “I should
have told you before that I love you, but I was scared that you might never love
me back.”

Rory rose to his feet and pulled her
close, his hands clasped around her waist. “Will you come home with me, Grace?”

She leaned against him, the ring
clutched in her hand. The heat from his body flooded into hers, melting away the
despair of the lonely days without him. “Yes,” she replied, her voice muffled
against his chest.

“Now,” Rory said with emphasis.

“Now?” Grace pulled back and glanced
up to his face.

Love and laughter filled his eyes,
and beneath simmered a hunger that sent shivers of anticipation along her skin.
“Right now,” he told her.

“I guess I could ask Stuart if I can
go home early.”

He bent to whisper into her ear.
“Good. I want to start making our first baby tonight.”

Heat rushed up to her cheeks and
Grace cast a hasty look toward the doorway to make sure they were alone.

“Grace.” Rory cupped her chin in a
manner that demanded her full attention.

“Yes?” She met his searching gaze.

“Will you promise that you’ll never
leave me again?”

Happiness burst inside her. “I
promise,” she said, and would have said it again, if Rory hadn’t silenced her
with a kiss.

Tatiana March learned to read at four, and no other pastime has matched the
thrill of being transported to other worlds. She took up fiction writing six
years ago while taking a break from her job as a senior director in a large
international corporation.

Tatiana lives in the UK near the river Thames. She loves to travel and has lived
in several European countries, as well as spending time in the US. One of her
favorite destinations is Arizona, the setting of her historical romance Circle
Star.

When Tatiana is not reading or writing, she enjoys hiking, camping, and watching
old movies on the TV. She is hopeless at housework and can barely cook enough to
keep from starvation. She used to like clothes, and fuss about her hair, but the
older she gets the more she has realized that looks matter less than a kind
heart.

Circle Star was her first full-length novel accepted for publication. She is
working on several other manuscripts, both historical romance and contemporary
romantic suspense.

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