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“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. Drew gave her hand a pat, then pulled into traffic.
“The difference?” she encouraged, as he merged into the fast lane.
“Between the crazy way you used to act and the way you’ve been behaving since you thumped your head.”
Her steely eyed glare was softened by a playful smile. “You’d better watch it, Drew Cunningham, or you’re going to be spending your two-month anniversary night on the couch!”
Drew stared straight ahead. Again with the two months, he thought.
If that was the case, the Almighty had answered his prayers. He’d given Drew a second chance, an opportunity to make it up to Gabrielle for the dreadful thing he’d done.
Thank You, Lord, he prayed, and I promise not to blow it this time.
Gabrielle insisted that Drew let her light the candles; he insisted she let him carry the lasagna-filled ironstone pan to the table. He served it up, as she held out the plates. And as the delicious aroma of the steaming pasta wafted into their nostrils, he wrapped her hand in his and uttered a short but heartfelt grace.
“Dear Lord, thank you for all our blessings, for this food, for the beautiful woman who prepared it.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for watching over my—my wife, for bringing her home to me, safe.” He cleared his throat, then said a gravelly “Amen.”
When he opened his eyes, he found Gabrielle staring at him.
“That was short and sweet,” she said, grinning as she flapped a napkin across her lap. “You’d think you were the one who bumped his head.” She leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I hope you didn’t forget how to say a proper blessing because you’re worried about me. Because I’m fine. Honest.”
She hadn’t been raised in a church-going household. He’d known that when he married her. It had been just one of the things he figured he could teach her…and one of the things that had caused conflict between them.
He focused on his plate so she wouldn’t read the concern in his eyes. “I’m not worried about you,” he said, knowing even as the words exited his lips that they weren’t true. “I’m starved, is all. Haven’t had a bite all day.”
“What! There wasn’t a scrap of bacon or a streak of egg yoke left on your plate when you left here this morning!”
The last time she’d made him a big country breakfast had been on the morning of the day she’d left him. But Doc Parker had warned Drew not to let Gabrielle get upset, and to remind her of that fact was sure to do just that. “Well,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I haven’t had a bite lately.”
All through the rest of the meal, Gabrielle told him about how she’d heard a wolf howling that morning, even before the cock crowed. The candle glow shimmered on her ivory skin, made her bright gray eyes glitter like polished silver.
Oh, how he loved this vital, animated woman, and oh, how he’d missed her! Her zest for life was contagious. Before he’d met her, thanking the Good Lord for every sunrise was more a habit than anything else. But since meeting Gabrielle… Well, waking to find his beautiful, lively little wife cuddled up beside him had given him a whole new and glorious reason to thank God for each new day.
He looked into her eyes—eyes afire with the love of life. Did Gabrielle realize what she was doing? Did she understand that her sweet smiles, the love-light in her eyes, the way she rested her hand on his arm now and then, was awakening memories? Did she know that this candlelit dinner—prepared and served to celebrate the day they were wed—made him yearn for that blessed day, and that wonderful night?
Being with her again was, for Drew, like feeling the sunshine on his face after a winter of cold, dreary Montana weather. She was his rainbow after a thunderstorm, his home and his hearth and the love of his life. He was grateful to have her back, so grateful that he would make any promise, swear any oath, to ensure Gabrielle would never leave him again.
Was it an accident of fate, some curious coincidence, that her soft voice and gentle touch seemed to him a signal that meant she’d come home to stay? That she expected him always to be part of her life—welcomed, wanted, loved—despite the despicable things she’d accused him of?
She deserved a strong man. A good man.
God had blessed him with a good, strong body, and in gratitude, Drew had used it to its fullest potential. Not that there was any honor in it; lately, hard work seemed to be the only thing that took his mind off missing her. But had he paid so much attention to exercising his body that he’d neglected to exercise his spirit? Was that the reason he’d sobbed like an orphan after she’d left him? Was that why a sob threatened to escape his throat even now?
Drew knew something about how time could sharpen the keen edge of yearning. He’d brooded and sulked for years after his mother left home. And done the same when Gabby ran off—for months.
And now she was back, more beautiful than ever.
“I’m going to take a hike, first thing tomorrow—see if I can’t find that wol—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He knew only too well her love of wolves. Knew, too, about the one she’d heard nearly a year ago. It would break her heart to know he’d found a scraggly wolf a few months back. Living out here, he’d seen it before. Lone wolves, starving for affection as much as food, usually ended up like that one.
Her smile dimmed in response to the edginess in his voice. “Why not?”
“Doc Parker said you should take it easy for the next few days, remember?” Drew made a concerted effort to lighten his tone. “Hiking through the foothills isn’t exactly following doctor’s orders, now is it?”
She tucked in one corner of her mouth, shoved a wide, ruffle-edged noodle around on her plate. “No,” she sighed, “I suppose not.” Gabrielle sat back in her chair, lay her fork beside her plate. “But the wolf was close, Drew, real close.” Leaning forward, she rested both hands on his forearm. “You’re gonna think I’m nuts, but I want to see it, up close.”
He’d refused to let her track wolves before, citing the danger involved—another piece of evidence in her mind that he didn’t consider her feelings the least bit important. “Tell you what,” he began, “when Doc gives you a clean bill of health, we’ll look for the wolf…together.”
Drew focused on her ringless fingers, which were pressing gently into his skin. Until now, he’d hoped that she’d rented that little apartment in town just to cool off. That she’d pull herself together and realize what had happened between them didn’t have to put an end to their marriage.
But if that were true, would she have taken off her wedding band and her engagement ring? Drew didn’t think so.
He swallowed, hard.
Drew had never known anyone like Gabrielle. When she set her mind on something, she was like a puppy to the root. He didn’t see any point in telling her they’d had a similar conversation, before she left.
He’d try to move Granite Peak, lasso the sun, change the course of the Fishtail River if she asked it of him. Disappointing her was the last thing Drew wanted to do.
It hadn’t been the rage that gave her melodious voice a ragged edge, the memory of which, even as recently as last night, kept him awake for hours. It hadn’t been the heat of the angry words themselves that made him feel more ashamed than he’d ever felt to date. No, it had been the disappointment in her eyes that haunted him, wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace. If the Good Lord would see fit to give him a chance to make it up to her, Drew had vowed night after lonely night, he’d never make the same mistakes again.
“We can go tomorrow, Drew. It’d be safe—if you were with me.”
Gabrielle waited for his response, a sweet smile curving her lovely lips.
She had come back to him. What more proof did he need that God had answered his plea?
“I dunno, Gabby. Doc said—”
“I’m not a baby, Drew,” she snapped, snatching back her hands. “I don’t need to be coddled.”
The truth came spilling out, like the rapids spilling over timeworn rocks in the bend of a river. “Gabby, sweetie,” he said, reaching for her, “I’m sorry if it sounds like that. I don’t mean it to, honest. It’s just that I love you and I’m worried about you. I know how you push yourself. I’ve had a concussion, myself, so I know you can feel terrific one minute, dizzy as a drunkard the next.”
She gave him a halfhearted grin. “Do I smell a compromise in the air?”
Drew hung his head and chuckled softly. Leave it to Gabby to put her own spin on it. “Okay. Okay. I know when I’m licked,” he admitted, grinning. And crouching beside her chair, he wrapped her in a hearty hug. “But honest, Gabby, if anything ever happened to you,” he whispered against her freckled cheek, “I don’t know what I’d do.”
Gabrielle turned to face him, putting her lips no more than an inch from his. And bracketing his face in her warm hands, she gazed lovingly into his eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to me,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You’re forgetting that I’m a Lafayette!”
“You were a Lafayette,” he corrected, praying his words wouldn’t jog her memory.
She kissed him then, not the way friend kisses friend, or parent kisses child, but the way a woman kisses the man she loves. “You’re absolutely right,” she said on a sigh. “I’m a Cunningham now, and mighty proud of it.”
Her mouth was soft and searching, her breath whisper-sweet. Drew’s heart pounded as she leaned back and combed her fingers through his hair, and he was shocked at his eager response to her scrutiny.
“You know what I’ve been thinking?”
He cleared his throat. The more things change, he quoted silently, the more they stay the same. Why did she always pick times like these to get chatty? But God help him, he loved her with everything in him. If talking’s what she wanted, then talking’s what she’d get. Despite himself, he smiled. “What’ve you been thinking?”
Her delicate forefinger traced the contour of his upper lip, the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. Raising one well-arched brow and grinning mischievously, she began in a breathy voice, “That it’d be awfully nice to hear the pitter-patter of little feet around this big, old, empty ranch house.”
Drew blinked, stunned into openmouthed silence at her suggestion. Was she kidding? Was this part of some cruel, vengeful joke? Or had he misunderstood her entirely?
“Y-you…you want to—”
Gabrielle tilted her head, her smile broadening slightly as she looked over his left shoulder and focused on some spot near the ceiling. “I’ve been experiencing some very strange sensations the last couple of days…” She snuggled closer, rested her cheek against his chest.
He held his breath for a moment before saying, “It’s the concussion.” Nodding, Drew added, “Normal. Very normal. Dizziness and—” He cleared his throat. “Is your stomach queasy?”
She tilted her head back, sending that gleaming, luxurious hair cascading over one shoulder like a fiery waterfall. “Well, no-o,” she singsonged, “but it co-o-ould be, if you’ll just cooperate a little.”
Much as he wanted to take her upstairs—and he wanted that a lot—Drew couldn’t let himself give in to the temptation. Wouldn’t be fair to Gabby, he told himself. It’d be like using her. And as he stared into her loving eyes, he admitted it wouldn’t be like using her, it would be using her. She was vulnerable right now, weakened physically and psychologically by the concussion, and certainly in no emotional condition to be making decisions as life-altering as having a baby!
He remembered the times she’d asked that question, on their wedding night, and weeks after the honeymoon, and every other day, it seemed. “Not yet,” he’d said each time, citing their small savings account and everything that needed doing around the ranch as reasons to wait.
Besides, if her “strange sensations” managed to produce the results she seemed to want them to, it wouldn’t be fair to the child, wouldn’t be fair to Drew, because if she got her memory back and changed her mind again after they were sure a baby was on the way—
“Drew? Honey?” she crooned, fingers playing in his hair.
He cleared his throat again.
“You love me, don’t you?”
“’Course I do,” he said, a little rougher than he’d intended. “You know I do,” he added more gently.
“When you proposed to me, you said you wanted us to have a family. A big one. You meant it, didn’t you?”
The idea of Gabrielle bearing his children, of having little Gabby and Drew look-alikes running around the house, appealed to him more than he cared to admit. But he wanted to be sure. Sure of a lot of things before they started having kids. For one thing, he wanted to know there’d always be enough money in the bank to keep a tight roof over their heads, plenty of food in the pantry. But more than that, he wanted—needed—proof that Gabrielle wouldn’t up and leave when some good-looking musician came to town, the way his mother had.
He had nothing to go on now but blind faith, because she’d already left him. And if not for the concussion, Gabrielle wouldn’t be here now, in his arms, asking him to help her make a baby.
Blind faith.
Lord, he prayed silently, You’ve got to help me out here, ’cause I’m skatin’ on thin ice.
“Yes, Gabrielle. I want to have a family with you. I want that more than you’ll ever know,” he answered at last.
Gabrielle stood, held out her hand to him and smiled sweetly. Drew didn’t know what possessed him to put his hand into hers, or why he so willingly let her lead him down the long, narrow hall into the foyer, or why he followed her up the curved mahogany staircase.
But he did.
He wanted nothing but good things for her—happiness, fulfillment, robust health. It was only because he believed with everything in him that he was good for her that Drew prayed, Lord, if it means she’ll leave me again, don’t ever let Gabby get her memory back.
Even as the words formed in his mind, he admitted the selfishness of them. But he needed her every bit as much as he loved her; he’d make it up to her in a thousand ways, for the rest of his days.
“I hope I won’t be sorry in the morning,” she whispered, her voice husky and trembly as she back-stepped into their room.
Sorry?
His heart thundered against his ribs. Sorry about what?
“For letting the dishes wait. Mozzarella cheese gets like concrete when it sits.”
His earlier concerns that this might be a mistake—a big one—were blotted out by velvet sighs and fluttering hands that caressed his face, his shoulders, his back. Pulse pounding and heart hammering, he gave in to the moment, but not so completely that he didn’t hear those words ringing in his ears: “I hope I won’t be sorry in the morning.”
Chapter Three
Sleep—what there had been of it—came that night in fits and starts, for Drew didn’t want to take the chance that while he dozed, she might remember the months she’d forgotten.
Almost from the moment she’d fallen asleep, Gabrielle had snuggled close, the way she used to in the early weeks of their marriage. In this position—nose tucked into the crook of his neck, one arm across his chest, a leg flung over his thigh—he couldn’t see her face, despite the bright swath of moonlight slicing into their room.
But he didn’t need to look at her to see her, for he’d watched her sleep countless times before she’d left him. After she was gone, he’d seen her with his mind’s eye, night after lonely night: thick lashes that dusted lightly freckled, sleep-flushed cheeks; lush, velvety curls against porcelain skin; the hint of a smile that turned up the corners of her mouth. Too many nights to count, Drew had listened to the slow, steady breaths that sighed softly past her luscious, slightly parted lips.
Her breathing was so shallow, so faint that he often found it necessary to hold his own breath to hear hers. Some mornings he’d tease her, pointing out how odd it was that a gal who bubbled with energy and chattered like a chipmunk during the daylight could grow so still and silent while she slept. On those mornings, Gabrielle would yawn and shrug daintily and, voice still morning-hoarse, grin and whisper, “Guess that’s just one of my womanly mysteries.”
Smiling now, Drew nodded as he admitted just how right she’d been. Everything about her had been a mystery to him, from the way she seemed to fall boots-over-bonnet in love with him right from the get-go, to the way she made him feel like a smitten schoolboy every time she aimed that innocent-yet-womanly gaze of hers in his direction.
Gabrielle stirred in his arms as a sigh rustled from her, reminding Drew of the musical murmurings she’d hummed into his ears hours earlier. “’Oh, let me hear thy voice, for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is lovely,’” he quoted from Song of Songs. “‘Thou art fair, my love, thou art fair…. My beloved is mine, and I am hers….’”
But was she his?
And if she was, for how long?
He’d known from the instant her car disappeared from view that fateful night that he would miss everything about her, from her generous nature to her drive toward perfection.
Was the heat of their marital love a result of her determination to be the best? Or was it exactly what she’d called it at the conclusion of every interlude: physical proof of the love in her heart?
They’d been apart a long time, but not so long that he’d forgotten she liked having the window open, even on cold nights, so she could feel the breath of the cool wind on her face. She liked the sheets folded neatly over the comforter, too, and hated for the covers to be tucked too tightly over her feet.
Drew glanced at the window, where a crisp autumn breeze had set the sheer white curtains to billowing gently, like a sail that’s been filled by an obliging sea breeze. But the blankets, unencumbered by hospital corners, had gotten twisted, and he tidied them now, straightening the top sheet until it lay smooth.
His efforts roused her briefly, causing her to cuddle closer still. “I love you, Drew,” she murmured, kissing his neck before drifting off again.
He didn’t know its cause or source, but a sob swelled in his throat. Blinking back stinging tears, he managed to croak out a quiet “Ah, Gabby, I love you, too.”
He’d told her he loved her before, hundreds of times, and had meant it each time. But never more than now.
He’d have hugged her tighter, but she needed her rest, and he couldn’t chance waking her. He’d be nudging her in a few minutes, anyway, as Doc Parker had instructed. Every hour on the hour, he’d given her a gentle shake, just enough so he could pry open one eye at a time and study her pupils under the flashlight beam. Once he’d returned the light to the nightstand, he reset the alarm. But he hadn’t needed to: he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
He’d lain awake to do what the doctor had ordered—that much was true. But it was only part of the truth. The main reason for his sleeplessness was terror—cold and grim and hard as steel. Because what if, as he slumbered peacefully, Gabrielle woke up and got her memory back? She’d hate him, that’s what, and she’d leave again.
He never would have admitted it—not even to Gabrielle—but being abandoned by his mother twenty years earlier had left its mark. There hadn’t been one visit, one phone call or one note in all that time, so Drew and his only brother had had no choice but to take his father’s word that her leaving was proof she’d never cared a whit about any of them.
He’d been twelve at the time, young enough to hope and dream that she’d come back someday, old enough that it cut like a knife when “someday” never came.
When Gabrielle stormed out, all those feelings he’d repressed—fear and hurt, anger and confusion, and a powerful mistrust of women—came rushing back with the force of a mile-wide tornado. The biggest difference was that his mother had left without so much as a “See you later.” At least Gabrielle had shouted out a list of explanations for her decision to end their life together. Even with those reasons echoing in his mind, Drew still didn’t understand why she’d gone away any more than he’d understood his mother’s sudden departure.
What Gabrielle had said as she quietly closed the front door behind her confused him most of all. “I love you, Drew Cunningham, and I probably always will, but I can’t live with a man who thinks so little of me.”
