The Millionaire's Proposal (14 page)

He unceremoniously kissed her, heedless of the people walking by on the sidewalk, or anyone watching from neighboring businesses. Since their marriage had already caused a scandal and widespread gossip, and Grace enjoyed Ford’s romantic kisses, she didn’t issue an ounce of objection of her husband’s silent challenge. His warm lips slipped over hers, parting them, seeking a deeper contact. She moaned, not in protest, but delicious surrender, and returned the sizzling kiss.

It was over as fast as it had begun, but left a lasting impression on the people watching them, most of whom appeared shocked at Ford’s brazen display of affection. Grace figured that was Ford’s strategy, to lay claim to her publicly, and she’d done nothing to stop him.

“Here, let me take those for you,” he said easily, as if he hadn’t just scattered her senses with his kiss. He lifted the arrangements before they slipped from her fingers.

She stared up at him, trying to gather her bearings. “What are you doing here? I thought you had an afternoon meeting in Richmond and you weren’t going to be home until later tonight.”

He shrugged. “My meeting didn’t last as long as I thought it would.”

There was something in his eyes she couldn’t pinpoint. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.” He flashed her a reassuring smile. “Just trying to tie up some loose ends on the property I’m trying to acquire,” he said dismissively, then indicated the bouquets he held. “Where are you off to? A delivery?”

Didn’t she wish. Not wanting to reveal her depressing business problems, she kept her tone light. “I thought I’d take some flowers out to Aaron and my mother.”

His expression grew somber when he realized what she meant. “Would you mind if I go with you?” His voice was low, and slightly rough with emotion.

She’d thought she needed this time alone, but the susceptible emotions she detected in Ford’s gaze tugged at her heart. She clearly recalled the day of Aaron’s funeral, and how Ford had stood far away from the crowd of mourners at her brother’s gravesite, knowing he wasn’t welcome to be a part of the group when he’d been blamed for Aaron’s death. Through her tears of sorrow, she’d looked out across the distance separating them, seeing a boy who’d spent his life trying to fit in, but always ended up alone.

She’d wanted to go to him, comfort him in his grief, but hadn’t dared. Instead, she’d watched him swipe at his eyes as they’d lowered her brother’s casket into the ground, then he’d turned and walked away . . . and left Whitaker Falls.

She couldn’t say no, couldn’t deny Ford the chance to make peace with a part of his past. “Yeah, I think Aaron would like that.”

“D
o you come out here often?”

Grace brushed away the dirt that had settled on her mother’s headstone and placed her bouquet of roses at the base. “A few times a month,” she said, casting a glance at Ford, who stood behind her, hands buried in the pockets of his slacks, watching as she tended to her mother and brother’s gravesites. He seemed uncomfortable now that they were at the cemetery, like he wasn’t sure what to do or how to act.

Having spent the past eleven years visiting her mother and brother, she tried to put Ford at ease. “I know this might sound strange, but I find it comforting to just sit under this shady tree and talk to them about things that might be bothering me, or things I think they’d like to know. It makes me feel close to them.”

An awkward moment passed before he tentatively asked, “Do they know about us?”

“Yeah, they know everything,” she admitted with some amusement as she plucked away a few stray weeds from Aaron’s marker before they had a chance to spread. Sitting back on her heels, she drew a deep breath, trying to stem a sudden tide of sorrow that hadn’t lessened over the years. “It seems like it was only yesterday that they died, and I still miss them terribly.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his compassion evident in his gentle tone.

Standing, she smoothed a hand down the skirt of her light cotton dress, accepting the condolence he offered. She suspected he still carried around his share of grief for the loss of his friend. Strolling over to the trunk of the huge tree that shaded her mother and brother’s graves, she picked up the checkered blanket she’d taken from her vehicle before they’d gotten into Ford’s car for the drive out to the cemetery. Snapping open the blanket, she sat down in one corner, hoping Ford would join her.

He didn’t. He kept staring at Aaron’s headstone.

“I often wonder what Aaron would be doing now if he’d lived,” she said, trying to fill the silence that had settled between them. “My father wanted him to go on to college and follow in his footsteps as a physician, but I just can’t see that.”

Ford’s head turned to look at her, his expression grim. “I’m sure your father believes it was my bad influence that kept Aaron from going on to college.”

“Possibly, as an excuse for the truth.”

A dark brow lifted, but the muscles across his shoulders remained tense. “Which was?”

“Aaron wasn’t interested in being a doctor, but my father didn’t want to believe that.” She curled her legs to the side and tucked her dress around them. “At nineteen, I don’t think
Aaron
knew what he wanted to do with his life.”

The pain and hostility of the past lurked in Ford’s gaze. “I’m sure Aaron befriending me didn’t help matters.”

“Aaron liked you. He thought you were wild and rebellious, just like the rest of us believed, but Aaron always saw the good in others.”

“As you do.”

The soft way he said the words made her heart catch. So few people had taken the time and care to see past Ford’s defiance to the insecure boy he’d been. In that moment, she realized her and Aaron’s friendship had made a difference in Ford’s solitary world, had possibly given him the first bit of confidence to straighten out his life.

“Finding good in others is a trait we inherited from our mother,” she said, giving credit where it was due. “She always believed in giving people chances, while my father has always been one to cling to first impressions. I’m glad I got my mother’s more generous nature.”

“Yeah, me too. And thank goodness for second chances, or else you would have run screaming that day you came out to Cutter Creek looking for Aaron.”

Ford’s idle comment faded the present into the past, bringing to Grace’s mind the first day she’d met Ford face-to-face. She’d been out to save her brother’s hide after witnessing her father ranting and raving about Aaron hanging out with Ford, and how Ellis was going to “whip him” when he returned home. Grace had snuck out of the house on the pretense of going to Marie’s, and instead made her first trip out to the McCabe homestead in search of her brother.

Ford had answered the door of the tiny dilapidated house, and immediately turned belligerent and defensive of her being there. When Grace had explained she was looking for Aaron, Ford admitted that he wasn’t there, and he honestly didn’t know where he was.

That day forged the fragile beginning of a friendship between them, and soon she found herself sneaking out to Cutter Creek to be with Ford, at first just to offer him companionship. But somewhere along the way their platonic feelings for one another had developed into so much more. Casual touches led to sensual feelings, which led to those deep, intimate kisses Ford spent hours teaching her, which eventually evolved to emotions and needs neither one of them had been able to suppress.

In a few months’ time, she’d watched Ford struggle to shed the antagonistic reputation he’d earned and try to redeem himself,
for her
, he’d told her. But no one else believed him capable of changing; no one gave him the chance to prove he could. Getting a job had been impossible; everyone knew Ford McCabe lied, cheated and stole.

And then he’d killed Aaron, or so everyone believed.

She glanced up at Ford, who still stood too far away. The breeze tousled his dark hair, and he pushed his fingers through the thick mass as his gaze lingered on Aaron’s plot.

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Grace wrapped her arms around them. “Remember that day at my cottage when you asked me if I blamed you for Aaron’s death?”

He didn’t look her way. “Yeah.”

“I don’t,” she said, wanting, needing him to know that she always believed he’d been wrongly accused. “I never have.”

He glanced at her finally, bitter memories haunting his beautiful violet eyes. “What if I am to blame, like everyone believes?”

“What happened was an accident, Ford, at least according to the police report.” She frowned as his insinuation became clear. “Are you suggesting that you
were
responsible for his death?”

His self-recrimination was evident in the hardening of his jaw. “Only because I was behind the wheel that night.”

Other than the brief details he’d divulged to the police, no one really knew what had transpired the night Aaron had died, expect for Ford. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Grief and regret twisted his features, making Grace ache for him. “Come sit down and tell me,” she said, smoothing her hand over the blanket next to her. “Please?”

Ford hesitated, torn between withholding the awful memories of that long ago night, and releasing the burden he’d carried for eleven long years. Feeling weary to the bone, he made his way to the woman who’d become his wife, and settled himself next to her. Then he mentally thrust himself back to that cold winter night that had changed his life forever.

“Your brother was drunk the night of the accident, but I was completely sober,” he said, wanting that speculation cleared up right up front. The sheriff had tested him for alcohol immediately following the accident, and though he’d been cleared of that charge, no one had believed it. Everyone assumed he’d been the one out drinking and carousing, corrupting Aaron. “I’d gone to a party out in Pinewood with Richard Kip, and your brother was there, already having consumed more beers than he could remember having. He was in no shape to drive, so I took his car keys and insisted on driving him home.”

Raising his knees, he draped his wrists over them, dredging the fortitude to relive the events that followed. “On the way home, right out of Pinewood, I hit a patch of black ice and lost control of the car. The car flipped and rolled into a ravine, and because Aaron wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, the impact threw him from the vehicle.”

A shudder wracked Ford’s body as details filled his mind with vivid clarity. “I must have been knocked unconscious when the car flipped into the ravine, because everything was so eerily quiet when I came to. When I realized what had happened, I managed to free myself and scrambled up the hill for Aaron. I found him sprawled on the road, and there was blood everywhere . . .” His voice was ragged with emotion, his chest painfully tight. “I made it to Aaron, but there was nothing I could do to save him. He took his last breath while I was holding him, begging him not to die. I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire life.”

Grace’s hand touched his taut back in a soothing gesture. He glanced at her, and his heart caught at the tears and compassion brimming in her eyes. “Oh, Ford, I never knew . . .”

No one had known, because he’d never revealed those personal, anguished details of the accident. Everyone had come to their own conclusions, and the horrible stories they’d concocted had all been pure speculation, fueling the town’s censure toward him.

“I went to your brother’s funeral to pay my respects,” he went on, wanting her to know everything. “I was completely devastated by his death and only wanted to offer my condolences. But as soon as people saw me approaching the gravesite, the animosity toward me was tangible, so I kept my distance. Then I saw the pure hatred in your father’s eyes, and I knew it was time to leave Whitaker Falls. I never meant to hurt you, Grace. I just knew I couldn’t stay and face more condemnation.”

She nodded emphatically. “That first year you were gone was a difficult one for us,” she admitted softly. “My father suffered a heart attack from all the stress of losing Aaron, and my mother was so devastated by Aaron’s death that when she contacted pneumonia, she didn’t even try to fight to live. She died within a year of Aaron, which nearly destroyed my father.”

“And what about you?”

“Emotionally, I was a mess, but someone had to be strong.” She offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach her shadowed gaze, making him wonder what she wasn’t revealing. She didn’t give him the chance to ask, and instead said, “Thanks for sharing everything with me.”

“Thanks for listening.” As a result, his soul did feel lighter, freer. “Can I come out here with you again sometime?”

“Absolutely.” Her expression softened with sweet acceptance. “I think Aaron would like that.”