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Marriage By Necessity
Marisa Carroll
Cottonwood Lake was so calm, it looked like glassSo why did Nate feel as if he was at the center of an out-of-control storm? Sarah. Here on his doorstep. The last person he'd ever expected to see was his ex-wife–with a child, no less. And then to hear her say those four incredible words, "Will you marry me?"But Sarah has to have a life-threatening operation and there's no one to care for little Matty but her. And that's why Nate grudgingly agrees to go along with her plan. Against his better judgment.After all, what happens if Sarah survives?
“Does your husband know you’re here?”
He must know, Nate surmised. He couldn’t see Sarah sneaking around on the guy. She wasn’t like that.
She gave him a quick, startled glance. “How did you know I’d remarried?”
“It wasn’t exactly a secret on base. There were plenty of people who didn’t mind passing along the information. It took a while to get to Afghanistan, but I heard it.”
She nodded. “You didn’t hear all of it. David died more than three years ago. A hit and run.”
Nate hadn’t let himself think of her married to another man, but he didn’t like the fact that she was on her own again, either. “You’re right. I didn’t hear that. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said with quiet dignity.
“Who told you I was back in Riley’s Cove? You haven’t been in touch with anyone in my family. They’d have told me.”
“I checked with your old unit. Sergeant Harris is still there.
He said you’d moved back to Michigan…I’m sorry,” she said, looking down at the lake. “I know you’d planned to make the Army your career.”
“It was time for me to go.” He’d made it safely through three tours, but his luck had run out two days before his unit shipped home from Iraq. A nineteen-year-old Earnhardt wannabe in a Humvee, anxious as hell to be on the plane back to the States, had pinned him against a loading dock, breaking his knee and crushing his ankle. He’d been damn lucky not to lose half his leg. “You didn’t come all this way from Texas just to offer your sympathy for something that happened eighteen months ago. Why are you here, Sarah?”
“I need you to marry me.”
Dear Reader,
Nate and Sarah loved each other deeply, but their inability to agree on having a child destroyed their marriage. Now, four years later, Sarah has come to Cottonwood Lake, Michigan, to ask Nate to marry her again, and raise her fatherless three-year-old son. Nate agrees because Sarah is dying.
But what happens when she doesn’t die, and they find themselves bound to each other once more, a family in name only? Marriage by Necessity is a story of two people working their way through a tangle of old hurts to forge a future together. We hope you enjoy your trip to Cottonwood Lake. It’s one of those places we love to write about, filled with good times, good food, good fun and good people.
Enjoy,
Carol and Marion (Marisa Carroll)
Marriage by Necessity
Marisa Carroll
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
MARRIAGE BY NECESSITY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER ONE
COTTONWOOD LAKE was quiet today, its blue-gray surface as smooth as glass. Sarah closed her eyes and heard the sound of a boat starting up far out on the lake, and closer, the scolding chatter of a squirrel in the tree beside her car. The autumn sun was warm on her face and shoulders as it filtered through the branches of yellow-leaved cottonwoods. It was a perfect southern Michigan Indian summer afternoon.
Far too lovely a day to think about dying.
But she had no choice. She must talk to Nate today. She couldn’t come this far only to turn around and go back to their dreary little motel room in Ann Arbor. She had to drive up the sandy, unpaved lane, past the fork in the road that led to Riley’s Trailer Trash Campground, to the top of the hill, and ask her ex-husband to marry her again.
She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel of the secondhand minivan. She hadn’t seen or talked to Nate in almost four years, not since he’d shipped off to Afghanistan in the wake of the September 11th attacks. Their marriage was already on life support by then and war and distance had done nothing to heal the wound. The divorce had become final while he was still overseas. Nate had wanted it that way. So had she, at least she thought she had.
She no longer had the luxury of what-ifs.
She had a child to protect and provide for.
Another man’s child. Her late husband, David Taylor’s son.
She half turned in her seat to stare at the sleeping toddler who was the center of her world. The movement sent a wave of prickly sensation down the right side of her body, followed by a sudden numbness. She sucked in her breath and rubbed her fingers over her worn jeans. She couldn’t feel the fabric or the skin beneath. She turned her hand over and looked at the palm where the skin was reddened from this morning’s dumb accident. She hadn’t even felt the scalding water. No pain, no heat, no cold. The loss of sensation was only one of the symptoms of the deadly growth that was rapidly twining itself around her spinal cord, already threatening to burrow into her brain. The risky and complicated surgery to remove it was scheduled in a week’s time. She would need that long to complete the legal arrangements for a wedding.
If Nate agreed to her plan.
He had to. She had no one else to raise her son if— She cut off the panicky thought. Not now. Save that terrifying scenario for the wakeful hours of the night when she was too tired to keep the fear at bay.
Now she had to be strong. For Matthew’s sake. For his future.
NATE FOWLER grabbed a rag and wiped the grease from his fingers. “Just a minute. I’m coming!” he hollered over his shoulder. He’d never had people banging on his door asking to see his bikes before his sixteen-year-old cousin, Erika, designed a Web site for him as a school project. Turning away from the 1938 Indian Four motorcycle he was rebuilding for a wealthy collector in Detroit, he limped across the scarred, wide-planked wooden floor of the hundred-year-old barn that was his workshop, and he hoped someday, his home. He flung open the small side door. “What can I do for—Sarah?”
“Hello, Nate.”
His ex-wife was the last person on earth he expected to see standing there. He stared at her for a moment. She was just as pretty as he remembered. Her hair was shorter now, no longer the riot of cinnamon-brown curls it had been when they were married, but still shiny and fine as silk, just brushing the curve of her chin and the collar of her apple-green sweater. Her figure was more mature, too, her breasts a little heavier, her hips more rounded, but like the hairstyle, it suited her.
“I…I hope I’m not interrupting your work,” she said as his silence dragged out.
“What are you doing here, Sarah?” His voice sounded as gruff as his granddad’s, but there was nothing he could do about it, even if he’d wanted to. The shock of seeing her again after all this time overrode everything. She looked at him with the same big brown eyes that had attracted him to her that spring day eight years earlier, as she waited tables at the little restaurant outside Fort Hood, where he’d been stationed. He’d just earned his sergeant’s stripes and had gone there for coffee and eggs after an all-night celebration with a couple of the other newly minted NCOs. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that had changed his life.
“I need to talk to you.” Nate glanced down at her left hand. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But she had remarried. He’d heard that much after their divorce. As a matter of fact if the gossip on the base was right, she’d barely waited for the ink to dry on their divorce papers before she’d tied the knot.
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
She winced at the coldness in his voice but held her ground. “I know you aren’t happy to see me, but please, hear me out.” He caught the sheen of tears in her eyes and tensed. She’d always cried easily, but she didn’t let them fall now. And there was a veneer of steel overlying her soft words he’d never heard before. “It’s important, Nate. Please.”
He hesitated. Indecision like that would’ve gotten him killed in the old days. You didn’t last long in Explosive Ordnance Disposal if you couldn’t keep your mind on your business. He began to process information one thread at a time. Did she want money? She hadn’t wanted any four years ago. Money was one thing they’d never fought about during their short marriage. The wedge that had split them apart had been far more serious. He would’ve given her every cent he had. What he wouldn’t give her was a child. He still thought he’d done the right thing then, refusing to go off to war leaving her pregnant and alone in the world. But she’d been too young and insecure to realize it, and he’d done one hell of a lousy job trying to explain his reasons. The nagging awareness of his past failings softened his next words. “Come on in. We can talk inside.”
Sarah glanced over her shoulder at the seen-better-days minivan parked beneath the big oak at the edge of the drive. “I’d rather stay out here if you don’t mind.” She made a little gesture toward the two folding lawn chairs propped against the side of the barn where his granddad, Harmon Riley, liked to sit and watch the sunset with a cigar in one hand and a beer in the other.
“All right.” He took a couple of limping steps and unfolded one of the chairs for her, setting it next to the sun-warmed foundation stones. He waited until she was seated then stuffed the shop rag into the back pocket of his paint-stained jeans and lowered himself onto the sagging webbing of the second chair. She folded her hands in her lap, staring at her vehicle.
“Does your husband know you’re here?” he asked. He must know, Nate surmised. He couldn’t see Sarah sneaking around on the guy. She wasn’t like that.
She gave him a quick, startled glance. “How did you know I’d remarried?”
“It wasn’t exactly a secret on base. There were plenty of people who didn’t mind passing along the information. It took awhile to get to Afghanistan, but I heard it.”
She nodded. “You didn’t hear all of it. David died more than three years ago. A hit-and-run driver in the parking lot of the store he managed.”
He hadn’t let himself think of her married to another man, but he didn’t like that she was on her own again, either. “You’re right, I didn’t hear that. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said with quiet dignity.
“Who told you I was back in Riley’s Cove? You haven’t been in touch with anyone in the family. They would have told me if you had.”
“I checked with your old unit. Sergeant Harris is still there. He told me you’d left the Army and moved back to Michigan.”
Ennis Harris had been his best friend for twelve years. They’d been buddies since basic training, serving together in Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq. But since his accident and subsequent early retirement they’d lost touch. His fault, not Ennis’s.
“I didn’t know what happened until just recently,” she said, looking down the hill to the view of the lake. “I’m sorry. I know you’d planned to make the Army your career.”
“It was time for me to go.” He’d made it safely through three tours in war zones but his luck had run out two days before his unit shipped home from Iraq. A nineteen-year-old Earnhardt wanna-be in a Humvee, anxious as hell to be on the plane back to the States, had pinned him against a loading dock breaking his knee and crushing his ankle. He’d been damned lucky not to lose half his leg. He didn’t want to talk about his accident or the aftermath. “You didn’t come all the way from Texas just to offer your sympathy for something that happened eighteen months ago. Why are you here, Sarah?”
“I need you to marry me.”
SARAH WISHED she could take back the bald statement the moment it left her lips. She was going about it all wrong. She’d planned this so carefully, laid out her argument logically and methodically, but when it came time to put her resolve to the test she’d acted impulsively, speaking from her heart, as she had so often during their marriage. Nate was frowning. The double furrow between his brows was more pronounced than it had been four years ago. Otherwise he looked much the same, thick dark hair, gray eyes, broad shoulders. Solid, earthy, sure of himself and his place in the world.
“Marry you? Is this some kind of joke?”
Sarah took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart. She didn’t have much time. Matty would be waking up any moment. He always fell asleep in the car, lulled by the engine and the passing scenery. But he never slept for long after the car stopped. She needed to plead her case to Nate without the distraction of an active three-year-old.
“I know it seems crazy, an impossible favor, but believe me, Nate, if I had anyone else to turn to I would. I’m desperate.” She licked her lips. It was never easy to say the words so she rushed to get them out without stumbling. “I…I might be dying. And I have no one to care for my son.”
He went very still, his face as shell-shocked as her own must’ve looked when she first heard the prognosis. Then his expression cleared and, his voice level and controlled, he said, “Let’s take this one step at a time. You have a child?”
She glanced toward the car. “Yes. A little boy. Matthew. He’s three.” She could leave Matty in the van for a few more minutes. She’d been careful to park in the shade so the car would stay cool. He was safely fastened into his car seat. He’d be okay.
Nate’s veneer of disinterested calm cracked for a moment. “You must have gotten pregnant right after our divorce.”
She gave him back look for look. “I got pregnant right after I remarried.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Nate apologized automatically, once more in control of his emotions.
Still, she’d remarried only a week after their divorce. She’d gone to work at the HomeContractor store in Killeen, where David Taylor was the assistant manager, right after Nate left for Afghanistan. She’d been lonely and alone and her marriage was over. So when David fell in love with her, she’d tried to love him back, she’d tried so very hard.
“David was a good man, Nate. He would’ve been a loving husband and father to our son, but he never had the chance.”
Nate stood abruptly and the unexpectedness of his movement drew Sarah awkwardly from her chair as well. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at the ground for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. It was a habit of his, she remembered, and it had always irritated her when she was bubbling over with words. But she’d learned something about patience over the last three, hard years and waited for him to speak. “What’s wrong with you, Sarah?” he said at last. “Do you have cancer?”
“I have a growth, here on my spine.” She touched the back of her neck. “It’s not malignant. Not the way cancer is. What it’s called doesn’t matter. The name’s so long I can’t even pronounce it. The doctors in Texas didn’t even want to attempt the surgery. They referred me up here to a Doctor Jamison at the university. Have you heard of her?”
Nate shook his head “It doesn’t matter. The odds are less than fifty percent she’ll be able to remove the entire growth. I might wake up paralyzed. I…I might not wake up at all.”
His hands came out of his pockets. For a moment she thought he might take her in his arms. She took a step back. She’d always remembered how wonderful it felt to be held by him, although while she was married to David, she’d buried the memory so deeply she almost believed she’d forgotten. She’d break down and give in to the terrible fear inside her if he showed her any tenderness at all. “I’m not asking you to be responsible for me if I’m not able to take care of myself. I…I’ve made arrangements.” She would tell him later, all the details of insurance and long-term care facilities, of living wills and “do not resuscitate” orders. She didn’t dare dwell on herself, on what might lie in store for her. It was Matty she had to safeguard.
He gripped the back of the lawn chair and leaned slightly forward. “Good God, Sarah, listen to yourself. Do you know what you’re asking? We ended up divorced because we couldn’t agree on having children. Why in God’s name would you trust me with your son?” His jaw tightened. He looked fierce and rock hard. And sad. Beneath the surface anger his eyes were dark with sorrow and loss, she would swear it.
“You’re a kind man. You’ll make a fantastic father.” She couldn’t stop a small, bittersweet smile. “I always knew that about you even if you didn’t know it yourself.” She kept on talking, not giving him a chance to deny it. “I know I could ask you to just be his guardian but that takes time, filings, court hearings, all those things. Until all of that was settled he would have to be placed in foster care.” She faltered a little over those words but kept going. “The lawyer said…it would be simpler if we were married. That it would be easier for you to make decisions for Matty if I’m not able to care for him.” This time she couldn’t stop the quaver in her voice. She didn’t know which nightmare was more terrifying. Death, quick and painless as it would be, or the alternative, the possibility of paralysis or years and years in a vegetative state, dependent on others for everything, while Matty grew up alone and unwanted, the way she had.
“He needs you, Nate. There’s no one else. David’s only sister is a single mother. Her youngest has Down syndrome. Matthew’s grandfather is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. Carrie, my sister-in-law, has him to care for, too. And I…” She let the sentence trail off. Nate knew she was an orphan, abandoned at birth. She’d bounced around from one foster home to another throughout her childhood. She didn’t need to remind him of the loneliness and heartache of her youth. “The only family I ever really had was you.”
CHAPTER TWO
“I WONDERED HOW LONG it was going to take you to get yourself down the hill and tell me what’s going on at your place. Where you been all day?” Harmon Riley, bundled up in an ancient buffalo plaid wool coat and with a vintage Tigers cap covering his nearly bald head, was seated in an old metal lawn chair in front of the fire he built on the lakeshore most nights it wasn’t raining or blowing too hard. A plastic cooler sat on the ground beside him. His old tom, Buster, was curled up on his lap. The cat opened one eye, stared at Nate suspiciously for a moment, and then went back to sleep.
“I had business in Ann Arbor.”
“Don’t you mean we had business in Ann Arbor? I didn’t see that minivan with the out-of-state plates take off and leave, did I?”
