His body still clamoring for release, he gently put her to the side and rose to answer the phone. “Hello,” he said, and struggled to take in the words accompanying the voice of Kate’s mother. He handed the receiver to Kate.
She met his gaze with a woman’s need in her eyes so powerful it made him want to toss the phone out the window. But she bit her lip, and looked away, covering her eyes with her hand. He heard her make a few soft comments, but she kept the call blessedly short. She pushed the Off button and looked up at him, her expression a mixture of too many emotions for him to read. “My parents are here early. They’re waiting at my house.”
Although her legs felt like butter, she forced them to move. She stood and her partially ripped panties slid to the floor. Her head spun. They had been so close. Kate swallowed over a strange lump of emotion in her throat and tried to walk forward. Her knees buckled.
Michael caught her and pulled her against him. “Are you okay?”
Tears threatened, followed by a curtain of embarrassment. “I will be. I just—” She took a quick breath. “I was really—”
“So was I,” he said in a rough voice that did serious damage to her already shattered nerve endings. “It’s only a week,” he said, but sounded as if he were reminding himself. “I’ll take you home.”
“I can take myself.”
“If you’re having a tough time walking, I sure as hell don’t want you driving,” he said bluntly, leaving her with no argument.
On trembling legs, she made her way to the bathroom and pulled herself together. Since most of her things were still at her house, she only needed to pack a few toiletries. They left the apartment and Kate sat beside Michael with her eyes closed.
Drinking in the heady scent of his aftershave, she felt a visceral response to him. She could have abandoned herself to him. She could have given herself to him again and again, and she had no clue how to hold back her heart and keep it safe. She knew she could give herself to Michael in a way that would change her forever. She also knew, however, that Michael would never give himself to her in the same way.
When Michael pulled into her driveway, Kate’s parents rushed out of their motor home to greet them. Her mom swept her into her arms. “I’m so happy, darling,” she said, her voice swollen with threatening tears. “I’ve been dreaming of your wedding since you were born.”
Kate’s heart constricted. “I know you have, Mom.”
Her father pumped Michael’s hand. “Congratulations, son. You’ve got a jewel, but I’m sure you already know that.”
The pretense of the situation turned her stomach. How was she going to survive a week of this? Kate closed her eyes and gave her mother an extra squeeze.
“I’ll let the three of you visit awhile. I’m sure you’re tired from traveling and Kate’s been working on moving, so she’s beat too.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Kate’s mother protested.
Michael shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you up.” He met Kate’s gaze and reached for her hand. “You need some rest,” he told her, pulling her toward him. He lowered his head and kissed her, sending her heart into a staccato rhythm.
“What are you doing?” she whispered in his ear as he held her.
He nuzzled her neck. “You asked me to act like I’m crazy for you in front of your parents. How am I doing?”
The next few days were a whirlwind of pre-wedding activity driven by the indomitable force of her mother. Kate’s waking hours held the quality of a circus carnival. During the days, she was so busy trying to convince her parents that everything was peachy that she didn’t have time to think until night. Alone in her bed, she thought about what would happen after the wedding. Would she and Michael be able to build something lasting when only one of them believed in love?
Shoving the thought aside, she joined her mother on a mission to collect childhood pictures of Michael.
“It wouldn’t look right for us to have pictures of you when you were a child at the reception and not have any of Michael,” her mother insisted. “I know he was a foster child, but somebody somewhere must have some pictures of him.”
The two of them paid a visit to the Granger Home for Boys. Kate took in the large dark foyer and tried to imagine what Michael’s life had been like. The windows, she noticed, were shrouded in heavy draperies, and the floors were dark wood. It looked like the kind of place that would be drafty in the winter, and despite the cleanliness and strength of the surroundings, she could almost smell the scent of hopelessness and desperation.
Wrinkling her brow, she peeked into the office. “Hello? Can you help us?”
A young blond woman with startlingly green eyes standing in front of a desk glanced up. She looked from Kate to her mother. “I don’t know. I think everyone’s gone to lunch. I don’t work here, but I guess you could say I’m familiar with the lay of the land. My mother used to manage the cafeteria, so I spent many of my growing-up years here.”
“We’d like some pictures,” Kate’s mother said. “My daughter is marrying one of the former residents, Michael Hawkins—”
“Michael!” the woman exclaimed, and her face broke into a smile. “Michael is getting married? I’m stunned.”
No more than Kate was.
“Congratulations,” she said. “He was a fine person when I knew him.” She extended her hand. “I’m Alisa Jennings. I just moved back to the area and was taking a little visit down memory lane.”
Kate shook her hand, liking the young woman immediately. “Kate Adams, and this is my mother Betty.”
“You want pictures. Try this,” she said, walking behind the desk to a file room. “I bet they still keep them in the same place. Yes,” she muttered, as she surveyed the tall cabinets. “They haven’t changed the labels.”
“Should we be in here?” Betty asked.
“Probably not, but we can claim special dispensation if anyone fusses.” Alisa pulled open a drawer and grabbed a file. “Here’s Michael,” she said, peeking inside the file, then handing it to Kate. “They’re mostly black and white.”
Kate opened the file and looked into a pair of grown-up eyes in a very young boy. Her heart wrenched. He looked thin, but sturdy, with hair a tad too long, clothes that didn’t fit exactly right, but the set of his chin showed pride and determination.
“How serious,” her mother murmured, looking over Kate’s shoulder.
Kate flipped through the pictures, seeing signs of the man she knew in the growing boy. The last picture was out of order. It showed Michael around five years old, dressed in Sunday clothes and his hair painstakingly combed. He stood in the circle of his mother’s arms. Dark shadows rimmed her eyes, but she and her son wore matching smiles.
He had lost so much at such a young age. A tear slid down Kate’s cheek, surprising her. Quickly swiping it aside, she glanced up. “Is there somewhere we could make copies?”
Alisa slid a glance toward the door. “There used to be a copy shop just down the street.”
Kate didn’t pause. “Thank you,” she said, and her mother joined her. Betty filled the silence with chatter about the wedding plans as they located the shop and waited. Kate nodded, but couldn’t have repeated a word. She was steeped in thoughts of Michael and what his childhood had been like. She would have had to have been made of stone not to be moved by the pictures. Every time she looked at a picture, she bit her lip at the sharp emotions that stabbed at her.
When the clerk finished the job, Betty reached for the copies, but Kate intercepted them. “I choose,” Kate said.
Betty frowned. “But—”
“I choose or none of them is displayed,” Kate said.
Betty appeared to take in Kate’s determined expression. “You’ve got the same look in your eye you had when you told your dad and me you were moving to St. Albans.” She sighed. “There’s no fighting you when you’re like this. Will you consider the baby picture at least?”
Kate smiled. Tucked between some papers, they’d found a baby picture of Michael. “Yes, but the rest is my choice.” She felt as if she’d stepped into a secret part of Michael’s life, a part filled with pain and vulnerability, and Kate was compelled to protect him. It was incredibly odd because if ever a man indicated that he didn’t need protection, it was Michael.
They encountered Alisa Jennings just outside the main hall. “Oops, there you are. The secretary is back, so maybe you should let me return those for you.”
“Thank you,” Kate said and meant it.
“No problem,” she said and turned, then stopped and turned back around. “The thing I remember about Michael was what he did with his cookies.” She smiled. “My mom made the best chocolate chip cookies. Unfortunately, there never seemed to be enough to go around. Whenever she made them, the boys could smell them and they’d race because the ones at the front of the line were more likely to get cookies. There was a boy named Harold Grimley who wore braces on his legs and he never made it to the front of the line. But Harold always got cookies because Michael gave his to Harold. I bet Michael’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s a special guy.” She pulled a business card from her pocket. “Here’s my card if you ever need a liaison with the Granger Home again.”
Kate watched Alisa leave. Another tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it aside and heard her mother sniff. “C’mon Mom,” she said, pulling herself together and telling herself she would sort all this out later. “You’ve managed the impossible again. You got the pictures.”
Despite Kate’s protests, Betty insisted on a brief rehearsal at the chapel. This was the first time she’d been with Michael for more than a few moments, and seeing his pictures had shaken something inside her.
“You look pale,” he said, brushing her lips with a kiss. Her heart sped up. This was for the benefit of her parents, she reminded herself.