Just For Christmas

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN THE ALARM CLOCK sounded the next morning, Hope opened her eyes to find she was the sole occupant of the bed. But she didn’t need to see the indentation of the pillow next to her to know Drake had slept there. All through the night she’d been desperately aware of his hard, masculine body stretched out only inches away from her.

For hours she’d lain there staring into the darkness, remembering when their love had been full of fiery passion. He would have automatically reached for her or she for him. Hope had always been eager to give him pleasure, and she had to admit Drake had been more than a generous lover. Now he refused to touch her for fear of making her pregnant.

The thought renewed the deep ache that was always inside her these days, and she sighed as she reached out and touched his side of the bed. Last night she’d been afraid to sleep, afraid she would unconsciously creep into his arms. As a result, she’d dozed fitfully until the alarm clock had buzzed on the nightstand beside her.

Across the bedroom, to her right, the door to the bathroom was shut. The sound of the shower told her Drake was already getting ready for the day ahead. In the past, he would have lingered in bed, using what little time they had before work to be close to her. But that part of their life was over. She had to forget it and move on.

With a tired groan, she shoved her hair off her face and reached for her robe. She couldn’t survive a month of this, she thought as she groggily tied the sash at her waist. It would kill her.

In the kitchen, she discovered Drake had already made coffee. She quickly filled a mug, and after a heavy dollop of half-and-half took a grateful sip. Caffeine would have to sustain her through the day. And tonight…well, she would just have to forget her husband was lying beside her.

Hope was finishing her coffee when Drake entered the kitchen dressed in a dark suit, a white shirt checked with tiny black windowpanes and black Western boots. His light brown hair waved damply away from his broad forehead and his strong jaw shone with freshly applied aftershave. As he crossed to the coffeepot, the musky scent trailed to where she sat at the table.

She hadn’t realized having him back in the house was going to be so tempting. Or so painful.

“You’re early,” she said to him. “Stevie’s flight isn’t scheduled to arrive until nine-fifteen.”

He poured a mug full of coffee, then turned to her. As her eyes scanned his face, she decided he looked disgustingly rested. Obviously sleeping next to her hadn’t been the least bit distracting for him.

“I have some work in the study that I want to go over before we leave.”

“Oh.” She should have known he hadn’t put aside this morning exclusively for her or his little nephew.

He made a point of glancing at his wristwatch. “Will you be ready by eight-thirty?”

She nodded, then forced her attention to the bay window across one wall of the kitchen, which gave a view of the backyard. “I’ll come to the study when I finish dressing.”

“Fine,” he said, then left the room and Hope without a clue to what he was really thinking.

Upstairs, she made a point of dressing casually in jeans and a bright red sweater with a rhinestone candy cane pinned to one side. She didn’t want Stevie to view her as a starched and staid aunt whom he couldn’t get near for fear of ruining her clothing.

As for Drake, she supposed his tall, stern demeanor would seem formidable to most any child. But Hope knew that beneath his outward cool was a man capable of warmth and love. She could only wonder whether he would show Stevie that part of himself. As for ever showing any tender feelings toward her again, she’d given up on that months ago.

Less than an hour later they left the house with a minimum of conversation. The residential area was behind them and the morning rush-hour traffic buzzing on either side of them before Drake decided to break the somber silence.

“You’ve been very quiet this morning. Did you sleep last night?”

Hope glanced across the car seat to where his lanky body sat comfortably behind the wheel. His gaze was on the traffic ahead, yet even if she could have seen his eyes, she doubted she would have known what was on his mind. Drake had always been a man to keep his feelings hidden. Now that trouble had come to their marriage, he was even more of a closed book.

“Yes, I slept.” Drake didn’t need to know the sum total of her sleep had probably been less than an hour and that he’d been the sole reason for her miserable night. “I’ve been thinking. About Stevie.”

“What about him?”

Hope sighed, wishing her heart felt as bright as the morning. The gray clouds had cleared and sunshine spilled over the busy city streets of Austin. Maybe the sudden break in the weather was a good omen. She certainly needed one.

“I just wonder what he’ll think about us,” she answered. “The last time we saw him was nearly a year ago. Do you think he’ll remember us?”

Drake shrugged one shoulder. “Kids remember more than you think. It probably won’t matter much if he remembers us or not. I figure the boy is constantly being thrown on strangers. We’ll just be two more in his life.”

She grimaced as her gaze slid over his hard profile. “How can you be so callous? None of this means anything to you, does it?”

Even though they were traveling a busy thoroughfare, Drake shot her a look of disbelief. It wouldn’t do any good to explain to her that his comments had come from personal experience. That if he’d sounded callous, it was because he knew what it was like as a child to be dumped by your parents. Hope only wanted to believe that he disliked children. Even the thought of them in general. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Biting back a sigh, he asked, “Then why am I driving you to the airport to meet Stevie? The clinic has been thrown into turmoil lately. All the bad publicity surrounding baby Cody has begun to hurt Maitland’s finances, and I’m the man responsible for the money that keeps everything running. It’s made hell out of my job. At this very moment I have urgent work waiting on my desk.”

Hope looked away from him before he could see the disappointment in her eyes. Work and money. She, more than anyone, understood how important those two things were. As a child, it had only been Hope and her mother. And Georgia had never understood the word responsibility. What little money her mother had made at waitressing or cleaning houses, she’d spent frivolously. And the men she’d married after Hope’s father had skipped out weren’t any better.

“I’m aware of all the trouble going on at the clinic.”

He cast her a sharp glance. “But that doesn’t mean anything to you?”

Hope bit her lower lip, wondering how things between them had gotten to this point. Their marriage had always been special. As the years passed, the two of them had grown closer rather than apart. They had rarely argued over anything. She realized the miscarriage had been as traumatic for Drake as it had been for her. But she’d managed to get past it. Drake, however, couldn’t seem to let go and move forward with her. The gap it had created between them had grown to mammoth proportions. He seemed to misinterpret her feelings, along with everything she said.

“Of course it means something to me,” she replied. “I understand you’re a busy man and that you made an extra effort to come with me this morning. And I’m grateful that you did. But I—get the feeling your heart isn’t in this.”

What heart? Drake wanted to ask her. The little that had survived losing the baby had been crushed by their separation. It amazed him that she thought he ought to be able to love and laugh and live as the two of them had before she’d talked him into the notion of having a child.

Long moments continued to pass as he negotiated the car through a lane of heavy traffic. Eventually, he said, “To hear you tell it, I don’t even have a heart.”

He was baiting her. Just as he’d been baiting her last night about their sleeping arrangement, and it suddenly dawned on Hope that he was doing it on purpose. He wanted to rile her to the point where she would send him packing. But she wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“For Stevie’s sake, I hope I’m wrong,” she murmured.

Drake didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. He knew he was behaving like a jackass, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. From the moment Hope had come to his office yesterday, he hadn’t been able to think about anything but her and this month ahead of them. It might be the last chance, the last time in his life to live with her. He had to make it right or he was going to lose her forever.

Last night in bed, Drake had lain there pretending to sleep while Hope had clung to her side of the bed, desperate to keep her distance from him. He’d never undergone so much agony, knowing her body was inches from his, yet her heart was far away. Drake could only wonder how many more nights he could continue like this before he cracked and reached for her. Or was forced to leave the bed entirely.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her face was still turned toward the passenger window. This morning her hair was brushed loose. The color of the silky strands reminded him of a jar of honey lit with warm sunlight. If he were closer, he knew it would smell like lilac or lily of the valley. She only wore the fragrance of a single flower, and he’d often told her he liked her best when she was wearing nothing but the scent of a rose.

Drake cleared his throat and tried to shake the erotic vision from his thoughts. After a moment he said, “Whatever you might be thinking, Hope, I don’t want my sister’s kid to be hurt any more than he already has been. But for all we know he might have turned into a little tyrant since we last saw him. I could hardly blame the boy if he has.”

Surprised by his admission, she turned her gaze to him. “From what you’ve told me about your growing-up years, your parents weren’t any better than Denise and Phillip. Did you behave like a little tyrant?”

A dry laugh escaped from him. “No. But I wish I had. I should have dealt them as much misery as they dealt me.”

Her eyes scanned his face, and the bitterness she saw there was like a cold hand clamped around her throat. Drake had never tried to hide the resentment he’d felt for his parents. Even before she and Drake were married, Hope had realized he wasn’t close to either his mother or father. In fact, she didn’t meet the Logans at all until it was nearly time for the wedding. And then she hadn’t been impressed. Harris and Lilah had both been pompous and self-absorbed. The couple had made it easy for Hope to see that Drake had grown up feeling unloved and unwanted.

After the meeting with her in-laws, Hope had vowed to make up for Drake’s parents’ lack of affection. And throughout the years of her marriage, she’d tried to show her love in a million different ways. But it had obviously not been enough to take away his bitterness.

“You can’t forgive them, can you?”

His brows lifted ever so slightly as he glanced at her. “No. And I doubt I ever will.”

ONCE INSIDE the busy Robert Mueller Airport, the two of them located the correct airline gate and took a seat to wait for the flight from Dallas to arrive. Drake said very little and Hope didn’t push him for conversation. As each minute ticked away she was becoming increasingly nervous about meeting Stevie. What if he had become a little tyrant as Drake had suggested? She might not be able to handle him and then the whole household would be in an uproar. Drake would be only too happy to point out another reason they shouldn’t try again for a child of their own, and this whole thing would backfire in her face.

But the moment the passengers began to come through the gate and she spotted Stevie, escorted by a flight attendant, her worries were instantly forgotten.

“There he is, Drake!” Jumping to her feet, she unconsciously reached for his hand, then, as though realizing she shouldn’t be touching him, her hand fell to her side and she stepped back. “We’d better let the flight attendant know we’re here,” she added soberly.

Rising from the chair, Drake deliberately curled his arm around the back of her waist and gave her a brief smile. “We’re supposed to be a loving married couple meeting our little nephew, remember?”

Hope wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or sincere, but at this moment she didn’t care. She desperately needed the extra support his touch lent her.

It took them a few moments to weave their way through the dispersing passengers to the information desk where the flight attendant and Stevie stood waiting. After a brief exchange of necessary information, the woman smiled at Stevie, who continued to cling to her hand. “Well, it looks like everything is in order, so I’m going to put my little passenger in your care now.”

The attendant said her goodbyes to all three of them, then turned to head through the terminal gate. Seeing the lost look on Stevie’s face, Hope quickly kneeled to the boy’s level.

He was pretty much as she remembered. A bit taller, but she couldn’t see that he’d picked up any weight. He was thin and frail, and his complexion reminded her of a child who’d been convalescing from a long illness. Toffee-brown hair fell in a straight bang onto his forehead and freckles dotted his nose. Big brown woeful eyes glanced cautiously from one adult to the other.

“I’m your aunt Hope, Stevie. Do you remember me?”

His eyes were suspicious as they traveled over Hope’s face for long moments. Eventually, he nodded in reply.

Hope smiled with relief. “I’m happy you’ve come to stay with us for a few days. Do you remember Uncle Drake?”

Beside her, Drake reached down and shook the child’s hand as though he were a business associate. “Hello, young man.”

Tilting his head way back, Stevie looked up at Drake, and much to Hope’s surprise, a glimmer of trust replaced the doubt in the child’s eyes.

“Hello, sir.”

Drake’s chest grew suddenly tight as he looked at Stevie’s solemn face. “I guess you’re a little bit scared right now,” he said.

Stevie nodded awkwardly and his gaze vacillated between Hope and Drake.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Drake told him. “I would be, too.”

Hope darted a frantic look at Drake. What was he trying to do, scare the child even more? But before she could worry, Stevie stepped forward and slipped his hand into Drake’s.

“Can we go now?” he asked.

With a faint lift to his brows, Drake glanced at Hope. From his expression she could see he was just as surprised by Stevie’s reaction to him as she was.

“First we have to get your baggage and then we’ll go home,” Drake promised the child.

By the time the three of them made their way to the baggage area, Stevie’s luggage was already on the carousel. Drake picked up the large suitcase, then once again reached for Stevie’s hand.

As they headed toward an exit, Hope said to Drake, “You might need to slow down just a bit. Stevie’s legs aren’t quite as long as yours.”

He glanced down to see Stevie trotting alongside to keep up with his pace. “Oh. I wasn’t thinking,” he said.

Hope smiled to herself as she watched her husband slow his gait to match the child’s. Maybe the good weather this morning was an omen, she thought brightly. Right now, seeing Drake holding on to Stevie’s little hand was far more than she’d expected.

In the parking lot, Hope buckled the child into the back seat while Drake stowed the luggage in the trunk. On the drive home, Stevie sat straight and rigid and spoke only when Hope or Drake directed a question at him. Otherwise, his brown eyes stared unblinkingly at the view beyond the passenger window.

Once they arrived home, Hope took Stevie to the bedroom directly across the hall from hers and Drake’s. Over the past week, she’d worked at night to change the room into something more suitable for a child. The spread and curtains were printed with cowboys and horses. At the foot of the bed, a wooden crate painted bright red and yellow was filled with various toys that were inexpensive, but favorites of most children. On the wall, she’d pinned Looney Tunes posters and several glossy pictures of kittens and puppies.

“This is going to be your room while you’re here,” she told Stevie. “Does it look okay?”

The boy’s head jerked up and down before turning to watch Drake enter with his suitcase. Once again, Hope noticed Stevie’s dark eyes flicker with interest. Maybe Denise had been right when she’d said the boy was starved for male attention. He was certainly drawn to Drake for some reason.

Drake deposited the suitcase on the bed, then glanced with interest at the change in the room. As his features grew rock smooth, Hope knew the decor was taking him back to the bright colorful nursery the two of them had prepared in the bedroom next to this one. As her pregnancy had advanced, Drake had added more and more to the room until it was stuffed with teddy bears, baseball caps and gloves, stacks of little books and a chest of Tonka toys. Once he’d finally gotten used to the idea of her being pregnant, he’d wanted a son so badly. But then so had she.

“When did you do this?”

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she said, “The past few nights I’ve been working on it. I wanted Stevie to feel comfortable.” She turned her gaze on the child, who was clearly absorbed by the sight of the bedspread. Apparently he’d never seen anything like it. “Stevie, would you like to change clothes now?”

He looked at her with a hint of defiance. “Do I have to go to bed?”

Hope darted Drake a puzzled glance before she knelt in front of the boy. “Why, no, Stevie. You’re not feeling sick, are you?”

Glumly, Stevie’s head swung back and forth. “No. But sometimes my mommy makes me go to bed.”

Drake stepped forward to join the two of them, and even though he didn’t appear outwardly angry, Hope could tell from the tight clamp of his jaw that he was furious at the information Stevie had just given them.

“Stevie, no one around here goes to bed unless it’s bedtime. So while you’re here you forget about what your mommy made you do at home. Do you understand?”

The boy looked at Drake as though he couldn’t quite believe him. Yet he nodded in compliance.

Hope straightened to her full height and zipped open the suitcase Drake had placed on the bed. “Let’s find you some jeans and a sweatshirt to change into and then you can come down to the kitchen and I’ll make us some cocoa. How does that sound?” she asked the boy.

Ducking his little chin, he mumbled, “I don’t have jeans or a sweatshirt. Can I come to the kitchen anyway?”

“Dear God,” Drake muttered, clearly unable to keep from expressing his anger. “Right now it would give me a great measure of joy to ring my sister’s neck.”

Hope turned from her husband’s disgusted face to Stevie’s lost one. She wanted to take the child in her arms and hold him tightly. She wanted to kiss his pale cheek and tug at his chin. But it was too early to try to smother him with physical affection, and she somehow doubted a hug was enough to make this troubled child smile.

Instead, she said, “Of course you may come to the kitchen. I’ll see what I can find you to wear, and then later on today, the two of us will go shopping.”

“Will he go with us?” Stevie asked about Drake.

Hope didn’t bother to ask Drake if he wanted to join the shopping excursion. He’d already made it clear he was losing valuable work time.

Shaking her head, she said to Stevie, “Drake won’t be going with us. He has to work. But he might drink hot chocolate with us before he leaves.”

She glanced at Drake, who’d gone to stand near the window. Grim-faced, he pulled his attention away from his nephew long enough to give her a nod, then quickly left the room.

With Drake downstairs, Hope turned her attention to unpacking Stevie’s suitcase. There were stacks of dress trousers and crisply ironed shirts, but nothing close to jeans or any sort of play wear. Apparently the child was always dressed like a little businessman.

Eventually, at the very bottom of the case, she discovered a pair of khaki trousers and a navy blue lambswool sweater. She placed the clothing on the bed.

“Change into these, Stevie. I’ll be back up to get you in just a few minutes.”

The only response the boy gave her was one wary nod. Deciding it was far too early to try for more conversation, Hope left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

She found Drake already there, standing in front of the bay window. He appeared to be watching the cardinals and blue jays vie for the bird feeder that was nestled in the crook of a twisted juniper branch. Yet Hope seriously doubted his mind was on the birds. Stevie’s arrival had disturbed him. That much was obvious. What she didn’t know was whether it had been in a good or bad way.

“I managed to find a pair of khakis and a sweater for Stevie to change into. I’ll go get him in a few minutes.”

Drake glanced over his shoulder at her. “What do you think about Stevie?”

His question surprised Hope. She didn’t think her opinion mattered much to him anymore. Especially her opinion of a child.

“I—to be honest with you, I’ve never been around a child quite like him. He’s so serious. He hasn’t once smiled since we picked him up at the airport.”

“I don’t expect smiling comes easy for the boy,” Drake said. Looking at Stevie was like seeing himself thirty years ago, and it was more than a little unsettling. He hadn’t expected to feel much toward the child. After all, he could count on one hand the times he’d seen him since he was born. Stevie was Denise’s offspring. Not his own. And yet it troubled him to think the boy was being raised in the same isolated way he had.

“Do you think he’s been ill?” Hope asked.

Drake’s brow puckered into a frown. “I don’t know. Why? Do you think he’s sick?”

Hope shook her head as she placed a saucepan on the gas range. “No. But I wonder if he has been ill in the past. He’s so pale and thin. He looks as though he rarely eats.”

Drake grimaced. “I doubt anyone is ever around to see that the child eats properly.”

“Aren’t there people at the boarding school to see to things like that?” Hope asked. “I mean, children have other needs besides academics.”

He walked across the room and leaned against the cabinet counter a few small steps away from her. “Now you can see what it does to children when adults can’t be parents. Denise is a poor excuse for a parent. And I’m her brother. Hell, I must have been crazy to ever think I could be different from her—from our own parents. Maybe that’s why—”

She glanced at him sharply. His face was tight, his eyes dark with shadows. “Why what?” she prompted.

Jamming his fists into his trouser pockets, he looked away from her. “Maybe that’s why…you had the miscarriage. Fate was trying to tell me I wasn’t emotionally set up for the job.”

So Abby had been right on one score, Hope thought. Having Stevie in the house was reminding Drake of their lost child. But there would always be reminders. She couldn’t shield him from them any more than she could protect herself from all those painful memories.

Pulling a jug of milk from the refrigerator, she poured a hefty amount into the saucepan. “That’s what you want to think.” She spoke quietly as she worked. “It makes it easier for you to justify your decision not to try for another child.”