Page 107 of Summer Weddings
Admitting his love for Bethany—to her and to himself—wasn’t a simple thing. Love rarely was, he suspected. If he told her how he felt about her, he’d also have to tell her about his past.
Love implied trust. And he’d need to trust her with the painful details of his marriage. With that came the tremendous risk of her rejection. He wouldn’t blame her if shedidturn away. If the situation were reversed, he didn’t know how he’d react. He was laying an enormous burden on her.
Telling her all this wasn’t something he could do on the spur of the moment. Timing was critical. He’d have to wait for the right day, the right mood.
Not this morning, he decided. Not on Christmas. He refused to spoil the day’s celebration with the ugliness of his past. No need to darken the holiday with a litany of his failures as a husband.
“Daddy?” Chrissie stood just inside the living room doorway yawning. She wore her pretty new flannel pajamas—the one gift he’d allowed her to open Christmas Eve.
“Merry Christmas, pumpkin,” he said, opening his arms to her. “It looks like Santa made it to Hard Luck, after all.”
Chrissie leapt into his embrace and he folded his arms around her, slowly closing his eyes. His daughter was the most precious gift he’d ever been given. And now, finding Bethany… His heart was full.
* * *
“I can’t believe I ate the whole thing,” Ben teased, placing his hands on the bulge of his stomach and sighing heavily. He eased his chair away from the kitchen table.“If anyone else finds out what a good cook you are, Bethany, I’ll be out of business before I know it.”
Bethany smiled, delighted with his praise. “I don’t think you need to worry. Those pies of yours were fabulous, especially the mincemeat. I’d like to get your recipe.”
Ben grinned. “Sure. No problem. It’s one I came up with myself—I like to try new things when I cook. How about you? Have you always been this good in the kitchen?”
It was another trait she shared with her birth father, but once again this wasn’t something she could mention.
She nodded. “While other little girls were playing with dolls and makeup, I was using my Betty Crocker Baking Center to concoct all kinds of cookies and cakes.”
“Well, all that practice sure paid off,” Mitch said.
Bethany blushed a little at the compliments. She’d done her best to put on a spread worthy of their praise. The meal had taken weeks of careful planning; she’d had to special-order some of the ingredients, and her mother had mailed her the spices. A lot of the dishes she’d made were traditional family recipes. Mashed sweet potatoes with dried apricots and lots of butter. Sage dressing, of course, and another rice-and-raisin dressing that had been a favorite of hers, one her grandmother made every year.
“You miss your family, don’t you?” Mitch asked as he helped her clear the table.
“Everyone does at Christmas, don’t you think?” This first year so far away from her parents and two younger brothers had been more difficult than she’d expected; this morning had been particularly wrenching. She knew they missed her, too. Bethany had spoken to her family in California at least once a day for the past week. She didn’t care how high her phone bill ran.
“I must’ve chatted to Mom three times this morning alone,”she told Mitch. “It’s funny. For years I’ve helped her with Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, but when it came to doing it on my own, I had a dozen questions.”
“You need me to do anything?” Ben asked, getting up from the table. He carried his plate to the sink. “I’ve done plenty of dishes in my time. I wouldn’t mind lending a hand, especially after a meal like that. Seems to me that those who cook shouldn’t have to wash dishes.”
“Normally I’d agree with you, but not today. You’re my guest.”
“But…”
“I should think you’d know better than to argue with a woman,” Mitch chided.
Laughing, Bethany shooed Ben out of the kitchen.
“We were going to continue our game of Monopoly, remember?” Chrissie reminded him eagerly. “You said you wanted a chance to win some of your money back.”
“Go play,” Bethany said with a laugh. “I’ll rope Mitch here into helping.”
“You’re sure?” Ben asked.
“Very sure,” she told him, glancing over at Mitch with a smile.
Mitch mumbled something she couldn’t hear. She looked at him curiously as she reached for a bowl. “What did you say?”
His eyes held hers. “I said a man could get lost in one of your smiles and never find his way home.”
Bethany paused, the bowl of leftover mashed potatoes in her hands. “Why, Mitch, what a romantic thing to say.”
