Mail-Order Bride Page 14
“I said a number of things,” she told him, her gaze lowered to her clenched hands in her lap. “Not all of them were true.” She dreaded telling him there wasn’t any baby. False pretenses and disappointment—this was no way to negotiate a reconciliation. “How’s Tanana?” she asked, changing the topic.
“Much better. She misses you and so do the others. Carl’s growing every day.”
“I…miss them, too.”
“Do…did you miss me?” he asked starkly.
He sounded so unsure of himself, so confused, that finding the words to tell him what was on her mind was impossible. Instead, she nodded vigorously.
“I know I’ve made some mistakes…I know I haven’t got any business asking you to reconsider the divorce, but I love you, Caroline, and I’ll do whatever you want to make things right between us.”
“I know,” she said miserably.
“If you know that, then why are you acting like my being here is all wrong? It’s that Larry guy, isn’t it? You’ve started seeing him again, haven’t you?”
“Yes…no. We went to one movie and I cried through the whole thing because I was so miserable without you. Finally Larry told me I should go back to you where I belong.”
“He told you that?”
She nodded again.
“Is Alaska the problem, love? Would you rather we lived somewhere else?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I love Alaska. It was the fever and the exhaustion and everything else that scared me off. You were right—a week after I got here, I knew Seattle would never be my home again. My home is with you.”
“Oh love, I’ve been going crazy without you. Nothing’s good anymore unless you’re there to share it with me.” Although it was awkward in the front seat of the car, Paul gathered her in his arms and kissed her with the hunger of long absence. His mouth moved over hers slowly, sensuously, as though he couldn’t believe she was in his arms and he was half afraid she’d disappear.
Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the passion of the lonely weeks. Tears dampened her face and she buried her nose in his throat, heaving a sigh. “There’s something you should know.”
“What’s that, love?”
“I…I didn’t write the letter.”
He went still. “What letter?”
“The one that told you I was pregnant.”
Caroline could feel the air crack with electricity. The calm before the storm, the peace before the fury, the stillness before the outrage. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting.
“You’re not pregnant?”
“I swear I didn’t know my aunts had written to you. I can only apologize. If you want, I—”
“Love.” His index finger under her chin raised her eyes to his. “I didn’t receive any letter.”
“You…What? No letter?”
“None.”
“You mean…Oh Paul, Paul.” She spread kisses over his face. She kissed his eyes, his nose, his forehead, his chin, and his mouth…Again and again, until they were both winded and exhilarated.
“I didn’t ever think I’d be thanking the postal service for their biweekly delivery,” Paul said and chuckled.
“You love me more than Diane.” She said it with wonder, as though even now she wasn’t sure it could possibly be true.
“Of course. You’re my wife.”
“But…”
“Diane was a long time ago.”
“But you saved things to remember her by.”
“Only her letter. She decided she wasn’t the type to live in the wilds of Alaska. She said if I loved her, I’d be willing to give up this craziness and come to her.”
“But why keep the letter?”
“To remind me that it takes a special kind of person to appreciate the challenge of Alaska. It’s not right for every woman, but it’s right for you, Caroline.”
“Because you’re right for me.” Her face shone with her love. She was so happy. So very happy…
“I can’t promise you there won’t be fevers or accidents or that things won’t go wrong, but I vow I’ll never leave you to face them alone and I’ll never doubt you again.”
“I promise you the same thing.” She felt like singing and dancing and loving this man for the rest of her days. She placed her head on his shoulder and sighed. “Can we go home soon? I miss Gold River. I want to spend Christmas there! With you.”
“Yes, love. When would you like to go?”
“Is today too soon? Oh Paul, I had the most marvelous idea about getting some additional medical training so we could open a permanent clinic.”
He chuckled. “I sent for a mail-order bride, not a doctor.”
“But I could’ve done so much more when the fever broke out if I’d had the proper supplies.”
Paul’s hand slipped under her sweater to caress her skin. “I have a feeling you’re going to be too preoccupied for a while to be doing much studying.”
“But it’s a good idea, isn’t it?”
“Yes, love. It is.”
“Oh Paul, thank you for loving me, thank you for coming for me, and thank you for playing Scrabble with me.”
“No, love,” he said seriously. “Thank you.”
With a happy, excited laugh, she hungrily brought her mouth to his.
“Merry Christmas, Caroline,” he whispered, a long moment later.
“Merry Christmas, Paul. This is the best Christmas gift I ever got.”
“Me, too, love. Me, too.”
To Merrily Boone
Friend
Title Finder
Speller of Impossible Words
Discoverer of Great Restaurants
In memory of Ron Cowden
and for his son, Max,
beloved New Zealand friends
BALLANTINE BOOKS FROM DEBBIE MACOMBER
Rose Harbor Inn
Silver Linings
Love Letters
Rose Harbor in Bloom
The Inn at Rose Harbor
Blossom Street
Blossom Street Brides
Starting Now
Christmas Books
Dashing Through the Snow
Mr. Miracle
Starry Night
Angels at the Table
New Beginnings
A Girl’s Guide to Moving On
Last One Home
About the Author
DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of A Girl’s Guide to Moving On, Last One Home, Silver Linings, Love Letters, Mr. Miracle, Blossom Street Brides, and Rose Harbor in Bloom, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Ten of her novels have reached #1 on the New York Times bestseller lists, and five of her beloved Christmas novels have been hit movies on the Hallmark Channel, including Mrs. Miracle and Mr. Miracle. Hallmark Channel also produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove, based on Macomber’s Cedar Cove books. She has more than 200 million copies of her books in print worldwide.
debbiemacomber.com
Facebook.com/debbiemacomberworld
@debbiemacomber
Pinterest.com/macomberbooks
Instagram.com/debbiemacomber
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