Page 82 of Summer Weddings
Any argument he might have offered died at the pleading note in Chrissie’s voice. There was very little he could have denied his daughter in that moment.
When they arrived at the house and went inside, Chrissie climbed on Bethany’s lap, and soon her eyelids drifted shut.
“How’d it happen?” Mitch asked tersely, sitting across from Bethany. Even now, the thought of losing his child made him go cold with the worst fear he’d ever experienced. When he’d found Lori dead, he hadn’t felt the panic that overcame him when a terrified Bethany had told him his daughter was hurt.
“I’m not sure,” Bethany said. “As she always does on Fridays, Chrissie offered to clean the boards and erasers. My guess is that she took them outside and slipped. She must have cut her leg on the side of the Dumpster.One of the other children came running to get me.”
“Thank God you were close at hand.”
Bethany squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. When she opened them again, he noticed how warm and gentle they were as she looked down at Chrissie. “I don’t mind telling you, it shook me, finding her like that,” Bethany admitted. “You have a very special child, Mitch.”
“I know.” And he did. He felt a strange and unfamiliar blend of emotions as he gazed at the two of them together. One he loved beyond life itself. The other hewantedto love, and couldn’t. He had nothing to offer her—not his heart, not marriage. And it was because he’d failed Lori, just as she’d failed herself. And failed him, failed her daughter. Day in and day out, his wife had grown more desperate, more unhappy. After Chrissie’s birth, she’d fallen into depression. Nothing he said or did seemed to help, and he realized now that he hadn’t paid enough attention, hadn’t understood the reality of her despair. Mitch blamed himself; his lack of awareness had cost Lori her life.
“She’s fast asleep,” Bethany whispered, smoothing Chrissie’s hair away from her temple. Her words freed him from his bitter memories and returned him to the present.
Mitch stood, lifting his daughter from Bethany’s arms. He carried her into her room while Bethany went ahead to turn down the covers, then placed his daughter in her bed.
As soundlessly as possible they left the room, keeping the door half-open.
There was no excuse for Bethany to linger. She had a date with another man—but Mitch didn’t want her to leave.
“I suppose you have to get ready for your dinner with John?” he said, tucking his hands in his back pockets.
“No.” Her eyes held his and she slowly shook her head.
He was about to ask why, but he quickly decided he shouldn’t question the unexpected gift that had been dropped in his lap.
“Chrissie and I rented a video to watch tomorrow,” he said, hoping to hide his eagerness for her company. “We generally do that on weekends. This week’s feature presentation is a three-year-old romantic comedy. Not my choice,” he told her. “Pete Livengood’s movie selection isn’t the most up-to-date, but I think you’d enjoy it. Would you care to stay and watch it with me?” Heaven knew, Mitch wanted her to stay. About as much as he’d wanted anything in his life.
She gave a small, tentative smile and nodded. “But if it’s supposed to be Chrissie’s movie…”
“I’ll get her another one tomorrow. Or—” he grimaced comically “—I’ll watch this one again.”
“Okay, then. How about some popcorn?” she asked.
He grinned almost boyishly. “You got it.”
It wasn’t until the kernels were sizzling in the hot oil that he realized they hadn’t bothered with dinner. It didn’t matter. He’d fix something later if they were hungry. He had several free hours before his patrol, and he didn’t intend to waste them.
When the corn had finished popping, he drenched it with melted butter, then carried the two heaping bowls into the living room. Bethany followed with tall, ice-filled glasses of soda. He placed the bowls on the coffee table and reached for the remote control.
Normally he would’ve sat in the easy chair and propped his feet on the ottoman. He chose to sit next to Bethany, instead. For this one night, he was going to indulge himself. He needed her.
The movie began, and he eased closer to her on the comfortable sofa. He found himself laughing out loud at the actors’ farcical antics and clever banter, which was something he didn’t do often. Very rarely did he see the humor in things anymore.When he ran out of popcorn, Bethany offered him some of hers. Soon his arm was around her, and she was leaning her head against his shoulder. This was about as close to heaven as he expected to get anytime within the next fifty years.
Curiously time seemed to slow, not that Mitch objected. During one comical scene in the movie, Bethany glanced at him, laughing. Her eyes were a remarkably rich shade of brown. He wondered briefly if their color intensified in moments of passion.
He swallowed hard and jerked his head away. Such thoughts were dangerous and he knew it. He reverted his attention to the television screen. Another mistake. The scene, between the hero and heroine, played by two well-known actors, was the final one of the movie, and it was a love scene.
Mitch watched as the hero’s lips moved over the heroine’s, first in a slow, easy kiss, then with building passion. The actors were good at their craft. It didn’t take much to convince Mitch that the characters they played were going to end up in the bedroom.
His breathing grew shallow as a painful longing sliced through him. The scene reminded Mitch of what he would never have with Bethany. In the same second, he realized with gut-wrenching clarity how much he wanted to kiss her.
As though neither of them could help it, their eyes met. In Bethany’s he read an aching need. And he knew that what he saw might well be a reflection of his own.
There was a long silence as the credits rolled across the screen.
It was either throw caution to the winds and kiss her—or get out while he could still resist her. Almost without making a conscious decision, Mitch leapt from the sofa.
