Whispers of Moonlight (48 page)

Lavena shook her head. "Is eating all you think about?"

"We think about sleeping too," Travis told her innocently, and then laughed. "If you'll just give us a job to keep our minds off our stomachs, I'm sure we can wait for whatever—"

Travis cut off abruptly. Rebecca had come to the door of the kitchen and stood there somewhat awkwardly. Her look was guarded, but Travis hardly noticed. She had been trying to meet him halfway for several days now, but this was more than half.

"Hi, Mama," Wyatt greeted her.

"When are we going to eat?" Garrett tossed his father's warning to the wind and asked.

"You boys go ahead and help Lavena," Travis instructed his sons without ever looking at them. A moment later he started toward Rebecca. Rebecca moved sideways so he could move through the doorway, but Travis didn't want to leave the kitchen unless his wife did. He stopped in front of her, their backs to the door frame. Rebecca couldn't seem to stop herself from looking up at him. She was relieved when he only asked, "Did you sleep in?"

"Yes. It was nice."

Travis nodded, his eyes on her. The room was suddenly very warm to him.

"How was church?" Rebecca nearly squeaked as she watched his eyes drop to her mouth.

"Fine. Lucky and Margo were there."

"I didn't know they went."

"It was their first time."

Rebecca didn't know how to respond to that. Would Travis want her to go to church now? Would he take the dress as a sign that she was interested?

Admittedly she was rather curious. The boys never complained about going. Indeed, they always came home in high spirits and with beaming smiles.

"I like your dress."

"Thank you," Rebecca said automatically, realizing she'd been staring intently at the string tie at his throat. She raised her eyes to his. "I've thought a lot about what you said last night, and you're right, I had hoped that you wouldn't want to touch—" When Rebecca cut off and glanced across the spacious kitchen at Lavena and her sons, Travis took her by the arm. He walked her to the study. He didn't shut the door but dropped his hand when they stood before the desk.

"You were saying?"

Rebecca's gaze flew around the room but wouldn't focus on him. "I, umm, I was telling you that you were right."

"About hoping to repulse me so that I wouldn't touch you?"

Rebecca nodded.

"And now, Rebecca?"

This time her gaze locked with his.

"I'm not sure yet, Travis."

"All right."

"You're not angry."

"I'm furious," he said with a smile.

Rebecca smiled back as relief flooded her, but then Travis' gaze became serious again.

"Shall I check with you again, Rebecca, or do you want to come to me?"

She knew well what he was asking, and also knew it was a fair question. Suddenly her mind went back to the day they had been married, or rather the night, when her father had insisted that she go to her husband's room. She realized for the first time that she'd never regretted it. Even through the years of anger and denial, when Rebecca was honest with herself, she admitted that Travis had been wonderful to her the first few days they were married. However, that had been many years ago.

"If I came to you now, Travis, I'd be welcome?"

"Very much so, Reba," he told her softly, and then forced himself to say the rest, "but as much as I'd like to see you move into my room, I know you might not be ready."

Travis Buchanan was too fantastic to be real, but the look in his eyes told her he meant it. How many husbands would hold off and give their wives room to decide?

Rebecca finally nodded. "I'll come to you, Travis. When I'm ready, I'll come."

Travis wanted very much to tell her how he looked forward to it, but she must have already known that. He'd been alone for so long—married—but living
single. At times it seemed that he would never have a normal marriage, but then he reminded himself that Rebecca had been home only a few weeks. He knew his desire to have a whole and intimate marriage was normal and right, but such things could not be rushed.

"Mama?"

They both heard Garrett's voice at the same time.

"In here," Travis stepped to the door.

"Lavena says dinner is ready."

"Please tell her we'll be right there."

Garrett did as he was asked, and Travis turned back in the doorway and offered his arm. "May I escort you to Sunday dinner, Mrs. Buchanan?"

Rebecca came forward and took his arm. Travis looked down at the top of her head, his heart swelling with love and tenderness. He had always found his wife lovely beyond words, but now in a green dress that managed to make her hair look like gold, she was enchanting. He did not know when she would be ready to give herself completely, but today could not be too soon for him.

"You have to go to sleep," Travis said again.

"I'm not sleepy," Wyatt repeated rather loudly, causing Garrett to stir. Travis picked up his blond son and walked from the room. Garrett had fallen asleep almost instantly, even before Rebecca could come and kiss him, but Wyatt was fighting it tooth and nail. Travis walked him back to his own bedroom, and Rebecca, who had just come up the stairs, followed. She stood just outside the door, unnoticed by her husband and son, and watched Travis in action.

"Now," Travis spoke when he'd put Wyatt's pajama-clad form on the bed, "you're going to wake Garrett if you don't settle in, and you're going to earn yourself a spanking if you don't go to sleep. I know it's Christmas tomorrow, but you still have to obey."

The little boy looked crushed. His eyes filled without warning, and Travis picked him up and moved him to his lap.

"What is it, Wyatt?" he asked quietly. "What's bothering you?"

But the five-year-old couldn't answer.

"You can tell me, Wyatt."

But it was no use. Tears began to pour down his face. Travis tried to think back on what had happened that day but came up blank. Wyatt cried against him for a time, and then lay quietly. Travis thought he might have fallen asleep, but his eyes were still wide and sad.

"Here." Travis lay him against his own pillow. "Lie here a moment, and I'll get my guitar." Fascinated, Wyatt watched as his father moved to the closet. Travis came back to the bed, this time leaning against the footboard, a guitar across his lap. He began to play a slow melody, very softly, his fingers just brushing the strings. At one point he told Wyatt to keep his eyes closed, but other than that there was only the strum of the guitar, and the occasional
mournful accompaniment of the wind outside. It took longer than Travis would have expected, but eventually Wyatt's little mouth relaxed and the hand that had been clutching the blanket grew limp. Travis finished the last bars of the hymn he'd started, and
then set the guitar aside to carry his son to bed. As he'd hoped, Wyatt did not so much as open an eye as Travis tucked him in. Naturally he'd passed Rebecca at
the doorway. She now kissed her sons and walked ahead of Travis to the hall.

"Too tired to go downstairs?" she surprised him when she asked.

"No, not at all."

They started toward the stairs, but Rebecca stopped at Travis' room.

"Travis, will you bring your guitar?"

Travis was surprised again but agreed. He slipped inside to take it from the bed and found that Rebecca had wailed for him in the hall.

"I didn't know you played," she said when they had taken their customary seats by the fire.

"I've played since I was a kid," Travis told her, "but I haven't always had a guitar. My last one was broken, and we sold the one before that so my mother and I could eat. In fact, this one's not mine."

Rebecca's brows rose.

"You've never seen it before?"

"No, never," Rebecca told him.

"It was here, in your father's things. There's a small closet in the study, and I found it in there."

Again Rebecca looked surprised. "I've wondered at times what became of my father's things."

"Lavena put his clothing and personal effects in the room across the hall from my old bedroom, and I've even put a few items from the study in there, but most of his things
are right where he had them. I've certainly added to the collection over the years, but I'm sure you've noticed most
are still in place."

Rebecca nodded and looked around. "I have noticed. I only wondered about his clothes."

"Maybe you'll go through everything sometime. The boys are named after him—perhaps you'll want to find something special for them, a keepsake of sorts."

"I wouldn't have thought of that," Rebecca murmured, her eyes now on the
fire. "It's a good idea."

Travis' gaze lingered on her profile for a few moments, and then he put the guitar across his lap. He played from memory, his eyes on the strings. He could feel Rebecca looking at him, but for some reason he felt reserved about this. Indeed, he was so self-conscious that it wasn't until the last song that he added his voice. Travis' singing voice was a pure, deep bass. He had nothing to be shy about, but at times his wife was like a stranger. Her question concerning her father's clothing reminded him just how long she had been away. He felt a sudden trepidation over singing and playing in front of her. He couldn't bring himself to look at her when the song ended. Setting the instrument aside, he let his own gaze rest on the flames.

However, Rebecca couldn't take her eyes from him. He was so much more than she ever dreamed. With a startling clarity Rebecca realized that she was falling in love with this man. He still frightened her a bit and confused her even more, but she was falling for him in a way that made her original infatuation
seem ludicrous. The thought made her sit in quiet wonder.

It was impossible to say how long they would have sat silently before the fire, but both heard the clock in the hall as it struck 10:00. Travis sat up and stretched his back.

"I think I'll turn in," he said.

"It will be morning before we know it."

Travis smiled. "And as soon as the boys remember what day it is, we'll be expected to rise and shine."

"You did say you'd shopped for them?" She looked suddenly anxious at the empty space below the tree.

"Yes. I didn't think it wise to bring anything out until morning."

Rebecca nodded.

Travis stood and she followed suit.

"I'll lock up."

"All right. Good night, Travis."

"Good night."

Travis banked the fire and checked the doors, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He walked up the stairs, checked on the boys and then sought his own room. As he did this, he prayed.

Thank You for my wife, Father. Thank You for these boys she has given me. I can see that she's softening. Help her to that end. I might be missing something,
Lord. Show me. We've talked about so much, but there are still so many things I don't know about her and she doesn't know about me. Help her to find You. Help her to see that she can't be complete without You. Give us a blessed Christmas tomorrow. Lord. Thank You for the birth of Your Son.
Here Travis' heart stopped, and he remembered the day he'd come to Christ. Christmas had taken on a new meaning for him then. It was as if Christmas lasted all year long. Would Rebecca ever know such peace and joy?

I
trust that You will save my wife. Lord, but before that time, touch her heart. Help her to see that I just want to love and cherish her. The new year is upon us,
Father. Help us to find a new start in each other, as well as m You.