Wish on the Moon (22 page)

"If we keep this up, we'll both hurt when you
go. Do you want that?"

"I don't want to hurt any more than you do.
But what we shared tonight was--"

"Incredible," he cut in. "Don't you see how
much more difficult that makes everything? There's Ray to think
about, and Mandy..."

"What about us, Mitch?"

She was trying to pull something from him.
Something he couldn't give. It had to do with trust and love and he
didn't know if he could give either. Voices echoed in his head. His
parents arguing. His father saying he wished Mitch had never been
born. Carey and his father laughing over a ribald joke and not
including Mitch. His mother trying to convince him his father cared
about him, but shushing him whenever Sam Riley was drunk or in a
bad mood. Denise leaving to take a job across the country and not
being overly upset by it. Where had that thought come from? He'd
told himself he didn't care.

Trusting the feeling between himself and
Laura was as foreign to him as sailing on a foreign ocean. Laura
grabbed what she wanted and lived every ounce of life out of it.
But caution had always been his guide. Maybe a brief affair was
enough for her, but it couldn't be for him.

She was waiting for an answer.

He tenderly brushed her cheek, not wanting to
hurt or disappoint her, but knowing what he needed to do to protect
her and himself. "Once wasn't enough. But three weeks won't be any
better."

"So you'd rather have nothing than the beauty
of what we shared tonight?"

Mitch pushed himself up against the
headboard, closed his eyes, and rubbed his hands over his face. "I
don't know."

She stroked his forearm. "This doesn't have
to be as hard or complicated as you think. Your feelings will guide
you."

Passion stirred again at her touch. He wasn't
used to letting his feelings guide him any more than he was used to
following the sun. "It might be easy for you, but it will never be
easy for me." He ignored the longing to take her in his arms. "We'd
better get dressed. It will be midnight before we get to York."

He saw the same yearning he was feeling on
Laura's face. Before he did something about it, he shifted away and
dropped his legs over the side of the bed. It was going to be a
long drive.

***

Gnarled branches reached up to an azure sky
as Laura took a long, vigorous walk Sunday afternoon. The November
breeze pushed puffs of whipped cream clouds against one another.
She'd been wired since Friday night. Silence had never been as
thundering as it was in the car when Mitch drove from Harrisburg to
York. Making love with him had been...

Tears pricked in her eyes whenever she
thought about it. Their souls had fused as well as their bodies.
But he wouldn't admit it or face it. Since her father was getting
stronger, Mitch had said he'd stay in Harrisburg until Thanksgiving
to prepare the store for the Christmas rush. Yes, he was needed
there, but it was also a convenient excuse.

Mitch had been gone a day and she missed him
already. She couldn't stay in York without him asking her to stay.
But he couldn't ask unless he acknowledged his feelings and trusted
them. He wasn't used to doing that.

Laura was surprised when she rounded a corner
and saw her childhood home. She'd been almost jogging instead of
walking. Still brimming with energy she couldn't burn off, she
wandered around the front walk to the back yard. When she was a
teenager, she'd sit at the stream and let the babbling gurgles and
its constant flow soothe her. Maybe it could do that now.

Cutting caddy-corner across the grass, she
thought she saw movement by the stream. Tree trunks blocked her
view. Maybe she'd spy a deer.

But it wasn't a deer. It was her father and
Mandy. Curious, she moved closer.

Ray held Mandy's hand, gently swinging it
back and forth as they stared at the water swirling over the
rocks.

Laura approached them and heard her dad ask,
"Are you cold, honey?"

The little girl shook her head. "Huh uh.
Mommy says fresh air is good for me--just like love and
sunshine."

Laura held her breath, wondering how her
father would react to what he used to term "romantic nonsense."

"Your mommy's right. Did she ever tell you
how she and your grandmother would come here to the stream and wade
in their bare feet?"

"She must've forgot. Didn't you stick your
feet in too?"

His answer was slow in coming and sad. "I was
too busy."

"Too busy to play in the water? Didn't you
want to?"

"I wanted to. But I was too busy for too many
things in those days."

"Was it a long, long time ago?"

His expression was indulgent as he smiled
down at his granddaughter. "Before you were born."

"Maybe Mommy and I can come back when it's
hot and we can all put our feet in."

"I'd like that very much. But you live pretty
far away."

Laura thought she heard a huskiness in his
voice and suddenly realized how much it meant to him for her and
Mandy to be here. And it had nothing to do with the business. Her
dad might never say he regretted their estrangement, but he did. In
the few short weeks they'd been here, Mandy had become an important
part of his world.

Since the conversation she and Mitch had had
with Mandy on the plane, Mandy and Ray had been together more
often. Mandy was no longer afraid of him. When Laura came home from
the store, more often than not, she found Mandy nestled on Ray's
lap while they watched cartoons or he read her a story, rather than
helping Nora in the kitchen.

Had Laura ignored their budding relationship
purposely? She was happy for her daughter but part of her hurt
because she'd never been that close to her father. Had he felt left
out because she and her mother were so in tune? And then when her
mother died, he was at a loss? It made sense now. As a teenager,
she hadn't possessed the insight to see it.

Laura walked slowly toward her father and
daughter.

Ray heard her approach and looked over his
shoulder. "Have a good walk?"

She nodded. "This kind of day makes you
forget how ugly November can be."

"Mommy, can we come back when it's hot so we
can play in the stream with Gramps?"

Laura's eyes found her father's. If she
hadn't reached out enough in the past, she needed to do it now for
all their sakes. "Would you like that, Dad?"

His eyes glistened. "You're welcome here
anytime." As if embarrassed by his obvious emotion, he took a more
formal stance again and shrugged. "I certainly have enough room."
Clearing his throat, he dropped Mandy's hand. "I'm going in. You
two staying out here?"

"We could. Or we could go inside and play a
game of Candyland."

"Candyland!" Mandy shrieked.

Ray smiled. "Sounds good to me. Then we can
bother Nora as she makes supper."

"Or we can help her."

"I'm all thumbs in the kitchen," Ray
grumbled.

"Thumbs are good for mixing meatloaf," Laura
teased.

"You think she'd let me try?" Ray looked as
hopeful as Mandy when she asked for something she was doubtful
she'd get.

Laura grinned. "I'm sure if Nora doesn't let
you mix it, she'll let you add the bread crumbs."

Ray returned the grin.

***

Laura knew instantly when Mitch returned. It
wasn't the sound of the door, or his footfalls, or even the sound
of his voice minutes later. She'd sensed his presence.

She looked down the front of her sweatshirt
and grimaced. It was liberally decorated with streaks and spots of
flour from the pie dough she'd mixed. She and Nora were getting
ready for Thanksgiving the next day by making apple pie and a
special low fat mousse for Ray.

When Mitch came into the kitchen, Laura's
head came up and all thoughts of flour and pies were forgotten.

His gaze took in Nora peeling apples and
Laura holding the rolling pin. "Ladies, don't you know it's eight
p.m.? The day should be winding down."

"Laura wanted to help so we got supper out of
the way before we started."

Mitch walked over to his mother and snatched
a piece of apple from the bowl. "Where's Mandy?"

Laura wanted to run to him, throw her arms
around him, and tell him she'd stay in York to nurture the feelings
growing between them. Instead, her hands trembled as she folded the
pie shell into quarters to lift it onto the pie plate. "She got
bored with us. She's with Dad watching one of the Christmas
specials." Her eyes caught his. "She's been asking about you."

"I missed her. I bought her two more books
and some stickers."

Did you miss me? Laura wondered, then pushed
the question away. "She'll like that." Laura felt awkward, not
knowing what Mitch was feeling, if he was feeling anything.

When Mitch tried to sneak another wedge of
apple, Nora slapped his hand. "Whole apples are in the
refrigerator."

Mitch's grin was boyish. "But these don't
have the peel."

His mother shook her head and handed him the
quarter she'd just peeled. "Here. That's it or we'll never get
finished."

He popped it in his mouth, crunched, chewed
and swallowed. "I'll unpack and give Mandy her books."

Even the way he chewed was sexy... Laura took
a deep breath. "How long are you staying?"

"The Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving
are our two busiest days of the year. If you think you can handle
the store here alone, I'll go back to Harrisburg Friday."

At least he was giving her professional
capabilities a vote of confidence. "I can handle it." She didn't
know if she could handle being close to him all day tomorrow and
not touching him.

Two hours later, Laura took the apple pie
from the oven and set it on a cooling rack. The hairs on the back
of her neck prickled and she knew Mitch was watching her. She
turned and the power of his gaze took her breath away. She
remembered the first time she'd skydived from an airplane. This was
the same breathtaking, freefalling sensation. He wasn't hiding
anything now. His stare was loaded with possessiveness, passion,
and longing.

Thoroughly rattled, she dropped a pot holder.
Before she could move, he strode across the room, stooped, and
picked it up. He handed it to her and their fingers touched.

His hand engulfed hers, potholder and all.
"The pies smell delicious."

She was amazed he could act so...so normal
when everything inside of her was screaming to him to take her in
his arms.

"Laura?"

She found her voice. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that."

Tears came to her eyes. She pulled her hand
from his and faced the counter. "What do you want me to do, Mitch?
Pretend I don't want you to hold me or make love to me?"

She heard his oath but his hands were gentle
as he took hold of her shoulders and turned her around. "I don't
want you to pretend." He attempted a smile. "Besides, I don't think
you'd know how."

Somehow her hands ended up on his chest. She
could feel his body heat beneath the flannel shirt and his heart
thumping. The longer her hands rested there, the faster it beat.
She couldn't find any more words. She just stared at him, not
hiding the longing she felt.

With a groan his mouth swooped down on hers
and his arms went around her. The kiss was as fulfilling as it was
passionate. His urgent lips trapped hers then separated them. When
his tongue delved inside, she let him sweep her into a passionate
hurricane she didn't want to abate.

It was astounding how everything about him
aroused her, enervated her, yet surrounded her with a safe cocoon.
He was so stable, solid, dependable. And the passion? She'd never
felt anything like this before. As his fingers slid under her hair
and he tilted her head to deepen the kiss, she pressed against
him.

Mitch drowned in Laura, her softness, her
scent, her sweetness. He had never known such fierce desire or the
excruciating emptiness that being away from her caused. Her joy
poured over him, mending all the broken places. His body's aching
couldn't be relieved with one act, with one day, with a few weeks.
Damn reality! He pushed his chest against her breasts and spread
his legs to hold her closer.

He couldn't keep his hand from moving over
her shoulders, down her back, under her hair again. He needed to
feel the softness of her skin. When she chased his tongue into his
mouth and stroked him, he took a hank of her hair between his
fingers...

Something caught. Something tore. Laura made
a sound and it wasn't from pleasure. He broke the kiss and lifted
his head. Bringing his fingers together he felt the string of
gold.

"Hold still a minute," he mumbled, his voice
still thick from his passion.

He caught the chain, held both ends, and
stepped back, taking it from her neck. There was a small red mark
on her throat where the golden rose had pulled tight when he caught
the chain in her hair.

He touched the spot with his thumb. "I'm
sorry."

"It's okay," she whispered, her eyes still
glazed from the kiss.

He examined the rose. She wore it often and
he wondered, not for the first time, if it had been a present from
her husband. "I can repair the chain. But it might be better to get
a new one, a fine rope instead of a link so it's sturdier. If you
want to keep wearing it."

She became more attentive. "Why wouldn't
I?"

"I don't know what it means to you
but..."

"Dad gave it to me for my eleventh
birthday."

"Ray?"

She nodded.

"And you've worn it since you were
eleven?"

She nodded again.

"You love your father, don't you?"

"Yes. I tried to stop, but I couldn't."

"When you left, it wasn't only your fault."
He'd become more and more sure of that in the past two weeks.