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BOOK 5 PART TWO
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Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
‘Nobody ever mentions little Michael’s father,’ Bella said into the thick silence that followed Lynne’s departure. ‘We think he must be dead.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ Cliff said, then looked at Louisa. ‘Truly sorry.’ ‘Not me you should apologize to,’ she growled, but when he began to rise, to offer his apology where he knew it was needed, she barked at him: to sit back down and eat. ‘Leave the girl alone. You’ve done enough damage for one night.’ He shoved his food around his plate until Louisa took it from him and replaced it with a slice of lemon meringue pie that quivered from the force of her slamming it before him. He took a bite. It tasted like glue in his mouth. He ate half of it before setting it aside and drinking the coffee the housekeeper poured. Then, with the other tenants busy doing whatever old ladies did in the evening, he took himself away from the scene of his stupidity, and walked for hours re-exploring the neighborhood he had once explored with Lynne at his side. As he s
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
Still, he felt he had to say, ‘I wouldn’t do either, of course. I’m not a violent man. At least, I don’t think I am.’ Though there was a time when he had been to protect himself when need be, and he knew if he had to he could kill to protect Lynne. There had also been that time he’d hit Logan to protect his mother’s honor. But he hadn’t been a man then. He’d been a boy, hot-headed and impetuous. ‘I don’t think you are either,’ Louisa said, getting up and going to fetch the coffee pot, filling both their cups again. ‘And I think what you said tonight did you as much damage as it did Lynne. Or, at least, her reaction to what you said.’ She gave him a penetrating look. ‘You’ve been hurt a lot during your lifetime. And you don’t like hurting others, probably because of that.’ He stared at her. ‘Do I have it written in red across my forehead or something? I was an emotionally battered child?’ Louisa laughed comfortably. ‘Didn’t Lynne tell you? I’m a witch.’ “No. She just said that you
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
Lynne swallowed the last bite of her pie — or possibly Cliff’s, since she’d eaten both pieces — and leaned back on the sofa, her stomach full, her eyes heavy with sleep. She knew she should get up and go to bed, but it was too nice, sitting here with Cliff close beside her. She breathed in the scent of his skin, felt the warmth of his body beside hers, looked far into the depths of his eyes and loved him, yearned for a lifetime of having him at her side. In only a few hours the kids would both be awake again. Her busy day would begin and there would . be no time for. . . them. And she knew they needed time, time to talk, to get to know one another properly. Time for her and Cliff. Would the month she had promised him be enough? Would a lifetime? Lynne gave Cliff a sleepy smile and said, “This is going to sound kind of dumb, coming from someone you’ve been married to for a couple of years, but how did you get from construction to accounting, and how come I never asked that kind of
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
‘You made me happy, Lynne. You made me laugh and enjoy life, despite all the tension I was under. I’d probably have been in a lot worse shape without you than with you.’ Especially if you hadn’t been pregnant, he didn’t say. ‘With Julia, the happiness was short-lived. I never felt I measured up to her expectations. Which, of course, was the case. She -’ Realizing Lynne hadn’t made a sound for several minutes, he asked, ‘Does it bother you, my talking about my marriage to her?’ Her only reply was a soft sigh, and he smiled, looked down and wondered how long she’d been asleep. He cradled her closer, and held her for another fifteen minutes, before sliding one hand under her knees and coming carefully to his feet, still holding her. ‘My bed or yours?’ he whispered, looking into her sleeping face. He knew whose bed he wanted to put her into, but knew just as well that if he did it, it might be the last time. It might ruin any chance he had of making headway with Lynne. Reluctantly, he
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
“Where’s Lynne?’ Cliff asked, having followed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen where he found Louisa alone, up to the elbows in flour as she kneaded bread dough. ‘Gone to the park,’ she said, taking the tray from him and glancing at the two empty glasses and the lemon-smeared plates. ‘Had a little midnight picnic, did you?’ Louisa set the dough into a bowl, covered it with a towel and rubbed the floury dough off her hands and arms. ‘Not me,’ said Cliff with a grin, as Louisa washed under the tap. ‘Lynne. She ate both pieces. Good . thing, too, because she needed her strength. Did she tell you that the kids were sick all night?’ ‘She told me,’ Louisa said with a dry smile as she set a cup of coffee in front of him and then tested the waffle iron with a bead of water. It danced high and she poured batter. Cliff sat back and listened to the sizzle, his mouth watering. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had homemade waffles. ‘She also told me you were up most of t
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
After a week and a half spending his mornings in the park and his afternoons oiling hinges, weeding vegetable gardens and other make-work projects he found for himself, Cliff was ready for a change. Change? He was ready to climb out of his skin! Dammit, he was bored! He glanced over at Lynne. Boredom was no problem for her. She sat on a blanket with Michael, trying to keeping him from wandering too far, getting up and chasing him when he did, both of them giggling and enjoying themselves. Cliff had a book with him, but he wanted something, anything, different from this. He wanted to go back to work. He wanted to talk to some men. He wanted to wish both Michael and Amanda on to another planet and take Lynne out to Galiano Island and make love to her for six days straight until neither of them could walk or talk or think. He did not want to be a friendly stranger who lived in rooms in her house, ate at her table, conversed in the evenings with three old ladies in the lounge, or Louisa
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
Cliff laughed, an easy, rolling, relaxed laugh that filled her heart with its goodness, making tears well up in her eyes again and run down into her ears as she flopped on to her back. ‘You’re such a pagan,’ he said, sitting up. ‘Hey, would you quit that?’ He caught a tear as it escaped from the corner of her eye. ‘I love you so much,’ she said with a watery smile. ‘And I thought for such a long time that I would never hear you laugh again.’ ‘Come back to me, Lynne,’ he said, pulling her up to cradle her against his body. ‘Be my wife again, in every way. I need you, too, your laughter, your love, your presence in my life to help me make sense of it all.’ Slowly, she nodded. ‘Yes. I was wrong, Cliff, in trying to keep us apart while you and Michael get used to each other. I know you won’t deliberately hurt any of us. And I know that if you’re given a chance you’ll learn to love him, and he you.’ ‘Thank you.’ Their kiss was one of solemn reaffirmation, a restatement of vows made nea
Being Yours BOOK 5 PART TWO
Cliff was far up the Coquihalla Highway before he realized it, driving with no destination in mind, just . . . driving. When he knew he could go no farther because fatigue blurred his vision, he pulled over and sat, head on the wheel, thinking, wondering where it had all gone wrong, what he’d done to screw things up again. If only he could tell Lynne the lie she so longed to hear. If only he could make himself believe that somehow, some kind of miracle had occurred and what she insisted was true was true. But... he could not. Presently, he turned his car and headed back toward the city of Vancouver. Hours later, as dawn broke, he was surprised to find himself parked outside the house where he had spent his first sixteen years. The drapes were drawn, the lawn neatly mowed, and a pickup truck was parked in the car-port with a ten-speed bike chained to a bolt in the wall beside the front steps. A basketball hoop hung high on the garage. A kid on a bike, broad strap of newspaper bag ac
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