There's Only Been You (28 page)

"Don't beat yourself up,” Mike said. “You couldn't have known what kind of a lowlife the guy was. If anyone has reason to feel guilty, it's me. I should've filled you in from the beginning, right after I found out he and Sara were dating."

"We went on one date,” Sara pointed out, exasperated. “I didn't even let him kiss me goodnight."

Mike brought her hand up to his lips. “I know."

A reluctant smile tugged at her own lips. “I can't believe you were following us the entire time."

He grinned. “I'll let you in on a little secret. Remember when Jason got hit in the face with something in the theater?"

Her mouth dropped open. “That was you?"

"Yep."

Sara chuckled, then reached up and kissed him on the chin.

Uncle Luke rose to his feet. “Well, I suppose I'd better hit the hay,” he said on a yawn. “As tired as I am, I'll be lucky to wake up in time for supper."

"I hear you.” Nicky yawned too and stretched his arms over his head. “Thank God tomorrow's Sunday."

"You mean, today's Sunday,” Garrett said, rubbing his eyes. Sara gazed at him with concern. Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, it'd be a miracle if he could make it to his room on his own two feet.

As if reading her thoughts, Nicky and Uncle Luke each grasped one of Garrett's elbows and helped him to his room—and miracle of all miracles, Garrett didn't voice a single word of complaint.

Sara yawned, then got up to wash the few cups in the sink. Mike came up behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders.

"Come on, sweetheart, the dishes can wait until later. Right now, I think we should both get some sleep.” He turned her until she was facing him, then bent his head and kissed her gently on the forehead.

Sara smiled, more content than she'd ever been in her life. How amazing to think that in just a little over a week, their lives had done a complete one-eighty. Ethan had his father in his life, and the only man Sara had ever loved was holding her in his arms.

She'd spent the better part of the last eight years believing Mike had betrayed her in the worst way possible. Or what seems like the worst way possible when you're only eighteen. She'd learned not to trust her own instincts, when in reality, they'd been dead on. The love that had shone from his eyes as a young man had been genuine and true, and although two hateful, jealous people had torn them apart, fate had eventually intervened and made them whole again.

"I've always loved you, you know that, don't you?” Mike said against the top of her head.

Sara's arms tightened around him. It was time. Time to say the words that stood between them and a wonderful life together. “And I've always loved you. Oh, Mike, I'm afraid to blink for fear I'll find out this has all been an incredible dream and nothing more."

He pulled back and gazed down at her. “If this is a dream, Lord let me sleep for the next fifty years or so.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “Sorry, sweetheart, but from this day forward, you're stuck with me."

Ethan stretched and opened his eyes, surprised, it seemed, to be in his mother's bed rather than his own. He curled over onto his side and smiled at her.

"I'm hungry."

Sara returned his smile. “Hunger's a good sign. How do you feel? Maybe I should put some ointment on those scrapes."

"Okay, I guess. My arm's kinda sore, and my face burns a little."

She reached out and gently turned the arm he'd indicated. He had a pretty nasty bruise up by his shoulder. Sara leaned over and kissed his boo-boo. Ethan rolled his eyes, but with a small grin that sort of lessened the impact.

Gazing at him, it was hard to believe he'd been through not one, but two traumatic events in less than twenty-four hours. He was certainly a little trooper—a Jamison trait, she thought, with familial loyalty. Her chin lifted a notch. Well, since he'd obviously gotten his good looks from his father, it was only fair she get to take credit for his strength and tenacity. “So, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Pancakes and sausage. The patty kind."

"Sorry, but all I have are links. I could make you some bacon...?"

"No, links are okay, I guess.” He sat up and shimmied off the bed.

After putting on a pot of coffee, Sara started the sausage frying, then mixed up a huge batch of pancake batter. She glanced at the clock—nearly eleven-thirty—and wondered if the guys would be up anytime soon.

The aroma of freshly brewing coffee permeated the house, and before she even had half a dozen pancakes stacked on a warming plate, Nicky sleepily made his way into the kitchen. He plopped down on a chair and smiled his gratitude when Sara placed a steaming mug in front of him.

"You're the best,” he said, pouring in a heaping spoonful of sugar. He glanced across the table at Ethan. “Morning, sport. How are you feeling?"

Ethan shrugged. “Fine. My arm's sore.” He stuffed another bite of syrup-dripping pancake into his mouth.

Nicky grinned and shook his head. “It must be true what they say. Kids are resilient."

Sara went back to the stove and flipped the next batch of pancakes. “That they are.” She cast a quick glance at her son before meeting her brother's gaze. “Thank God."

"Something sure smells good,” Uncle Luke announced as he padded into the kitchen. He went straight to the cupboard and pulled out a cup.

Sara piled the second batch of pancakes onto the warming plate, slid the browned sausages onto a paper towel-lined plate and set both on the table.

Uncle Luke carried his coffee to the table and took a seat next to Ethan. “I just can't get over what a brave boy you are,” he said, reaching over to lightly ruffle Ethan's hair.

Ethan grinned with a mouth full of sausage.

As Sara poured the batter for another batch of pancakes she wondered aloud, “I guess I should let Mike and Garrett sleep in. But I really hate for them to miss out on fresh pancakes."

"Mike's not here,” Nicky said as he poured syrup over his stack. “I forgot Ethan slept with you last night and peeked in his room on my way to the kitchen. The bed was empty."

"Hmmm. I guess he must have woken up early and ran home to shower and change. I'm sure he'll be back soon.” Sara tried to pretend her pulse hadn't picked up speed.

Nicky winked at her. “I'm sure he will."

She was surprised to hear the heavy tread of Garrett's footsteps coming down the hall.

"Morning,” he said, his voice rough, looking as if he could use his next dose of pain meds.

Nicky stood up and helped him onto his chair.

Sara brought him a cup of coffee and a plate with four steaming pancakes fresh from the griddle. Then using his fork, she speared a few sausages and set them on his plate.

"Thanks.” Garrett glanced over at Ethan who stared at his uncle with wide-eyed concern. Garrett smiled reassuringly. “Hey, big guy, looks like you're doing a lot better than I am this morning."

"My arm's sore,” Ethan said, yet again. “Does your bullet hole hurt a lot?"

"Mostly when I laugh. So don't tell me any funny jokes, all right?"

Ethan grinned. “But funny jokes are all I know."

Sara poured the last of the batter onto the griddle before fixing herself a plate. “Garrett, were you by any chance awake when Mike left?"

"Nope, sorry. I just woke up for the first time since laying my head on the pillow."

"Hmmm."

Mike was halfway home when he decided to call the Jamison house and see if he could sneak in a conversation with Nicky or Garrett.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Nicky, it's Mike. Don't announce it! I need to talk to you, but don't let Sara know it's me on the phone."

"She's in the shower. Where are you? She made us all a big honkin’ pancake breakfast and was disappointed you weren't here to share it."

"Sorry. I just didn't want her to know where I'd gone."

"Which was?"

"Sorry, buddy. You'll have to wait with everyone else."

Nicky laughed. “Not even a little hint?"

"Well, I
will
need some help pulling it off, so could you and the guys keep her busy while I get everything ready?"

"Depends on how long you think you'll need. You know Sara. We may have to strap her down to a chair soon."

Mike grinned. “Then borrow Garrett's handcuffs, ‘cause I need a few hours, at least."

"A few hours? Oh, man, you're going to owe us for this."

"Thanks, Nicky."

"Pierogies? I thought you hated pierogies.” Sara scowled. Lord, she hated making those things, they took forever.

Garrett relaxed back in the recliner and flipped through the channels. “I just suddenly got a taste for ‘em. Besides, it's the sauerkraut ones I don't care for.” He moaned softly, and Sara frowned.

"Are you all right? You know, your next pain pill isn't due for another hour."

"I'm okay. Just a little sore. But a batch of those cheese and potato pierogies you make sure would hit the spot."

"I'll have to dig the recipe out of my cookbook—"

"You're the best."

Nicky felt his hip vibrating. Before answering his cell phone, he glanced into the kitchen where Sara looked decidedly irritated rolling out dough for the pierogies. He unclipped the phone from his belt and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?” he whispered.

Mike laughed. “So, she's right there, is she?"

"Yep. You home?"

"Just pulling into the driveway. Can you slip out of the house for awhile?"

Nicky glanced back at Sara and almost laughed at the disgusted look on her face. Sara had sworn that the last time she made pierogies would be the
last
time she made pierogies.

"I'll be right over. Is there anything you need me to bring?"

"As a matter of fact..."

Sara scooted the pierogies and onions around in the pan with more force than necessary. After everything that'd happened over the past week, after everything they'd been through, how could he just leave like that, no note or nothing? He could've called. It would've only taken a few seconds of his precious time. Inconsiderate, insensitive, thoughtless, arrogant—

"Man, those sure smell good. Are they almost ready?” Garrett asked from the living room.

Sara shook the pierogies and onions onto a plate, then spooned a large dollop of sour cream into a small bowl. She put both on a tray, stalked into the living room and handed it to him.

"Uh, is something wrong? You look ... upset."

"No,” she snapped. “I'm fine. Just fine.” She drummed her fingers against the back of his chair.

After casting her a quick glance, Garrett turned his attention back to the television and dunked one of the piping hot, potato and cheese-filled pockets into the sour cream.

The phone rang. About damn time, she thought, heading into the kitchen to answer it. Before she even took two steps, Uncle Luke called out, “I got it!"

"That was Nicky,” he informed them a minute later. “He says we all need to get down to Mike's place right away."

Sara's heart lurched in her chest. “Oh my God, what happened? Is Mike all right? I knew there had to be a good explanation—"

"Honey, all he said was that we'd better get down there right away."

"Well, would you mind staying with Ethan then? The last time I saw him he was downstairs."

"Ethan's already down there. With Nicky.” Uncle Luke's expression became suspiciously sheepish.

Sara crossed her arms over her chest. “You just insisted all Nicky said was we need to get down there right away."

He shrugged. “I, uh, forgot that he also mentioned Ethan was with him."

She was almost sure he was lying ... but why?

Garrett pushed himself to his feet and set his plate on the end table. “Why don't we just head on down there and see what the heck's going on?"

"You're certainly all acting mighty strange,” she declared. She strode past them and hurried out the front door.

When Sara saw Mike's truck parked in his driveway, a deep sense of relief tightened her chest. Of course, he hadn't left her again. How could she have even thought it? She walked faster. “Please, just let him be all right,” she murmured under her breath.

She was practically running by the time she reached the walkway that led up to his front door. Just as she raised her hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood Nicky and Danny, both grinning broadly. They each grasped one of her hands and guided her toward the back of the house to where the French doors stood open onto the patio. Sara's breath caught and her eyes misted over. The entire patio was covered in a sea of red, white and pink roses.

And then she saw him, standing beside Ethan, looking so handsome it nearly took her breath away. She gazed around as she walked through the French doors. Dozens of lit candles lined every inch of the porch railings and the bistro table in the middle of the patio.

"Hi, sweetheart,” Mike said, stepping forward to take her hand.

Sara's eyes roamed once more around the patio, taking in all the gorgeous roses that were in every state from tight buds to fully-blooming—and the sweet smell was simply indescribable. She loved roses, always had, and loved him for remembering.

Tears stung her eyes. She could only think of one reason a man would create this kind of atmosphere, and only one reason he'd have her family here to witness it. But she didn't dare think the words. If she was wrong, she'd feel like such a fool.

"Mike, what's going on? I've been so worried. You could've left a note."

"Worried?” Garrett snorted. “You were mad as hell, don't deny it."

Hands on hips, Sara scowled at her oldest brother. “And I had good reason. Really, Garrett, pierogies? You know how I hate making those things."

"That was actually my idea,” Nicky admitted. “I needed something to keep you busy for awhile."

Sara turned back around to face Mike. “Why?"

Mike covered the short distance between them and took her hands in his. “Because I asked him to."

"Why?” she repeated, her chest swelling with hope.

Mike scanned the faces behind her. “Do I have all of your blessings?"