The Marriage Prescription. Debra Webb
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mother won’t tell you anything?” he asked as he parked and turned off the engine and lights, leaving nothing but the moon to relieve the darkness that now cloaked them.
“Nothing.”
“We have to get to the bottom of this,” he said, his voice curling around her in the still, dark night. “At their age life is too uncertain to stay mad at each other. Think how one would feel if something happened to the other while this standoff was going on.”
Beth nodded. “What can we do?”
“Just keep plugging away until we figure out what it is that’s caused this kind of damage.”
At that moment Beth wanted more than anything in this world to feel Zach’s arms around her. Further proof that nothing had changed. They could be yelling at each other one minute, then making up the next. “Good idea,” she mumbled, then quickly scrambled out of the car. She would not let her emotions get the better of her again.
Zach followed her up the flagstone walk and to her door. She faced him there, the glow from the outside light pooling around them like a dim spotlight. Good-night would be said right here. She didn’t want him to come inside. She’d had all the Zach stimuli she could handle for one night.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said lamely. Truly pathetic.
“Any time,” he offered in that deep, husky voice.
“Good night, Zach.” The words sounded breathless. But how could they sound any other way with him standing so close and her pulse tripping so out of control? She wanted to back up but the closed door was right behind her, preventing her escape.
When his gaze dropped to her mouth the air evaporated from her lungs.
“Good night,” he murmured.
Slowly, very slowly, he leaned toward her. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it. She moistened her lips, in anticipation of his sealing completely over hers.
But they didn’t. Instead, he pressed that perfect mouth to her forehead.
As if she were a child.
Or his little sister.
“See you tomorrow.” With one last breath-stealing smile, he turned and walked away.
She wanted to scream. Fury mushroomed inside her. She opened her mouth to tell him she would be busy tomorrow, but he suddenly stopped and faced her. She snapped her mouth shut.
“By the way,” he said in that teasing tone that was all charm and Ashton, “I think it’s great how you agreed to come up with the theme for the whole event.”
Theme?
Grinning widely, Zach winked and strolled away.
Beth sagged against the old wooden door and watched him go. So that’s what Viola had asked her. Beth mentally recited a few choice expletives. What did she know about themes? She was a doctor. She didn’t do themes.
One way or another she had to mend this rift between her mother and Zach’s. Her heart couldn’t take spending this much one-on-one time with the only man she’d ever really loved…
…the same one who’d never thought of her as anything but the girl next door.
Chapter Three
Colleen Ashton signed the letter she’d just finished writing and made quick work of folding it, then tucked it into the matching embossed envelope. She sealed it, penned her son’s name on the front, then set it aside to put in the safe when she finished the remainder of this morning’s correspondence. She restrained the uncharacteristic tears that crowded her throat for the second time today.
No one would ever convince her that she was making a mistake. Not even Helen whom she trusted with her life.
The thought that she and Helen had not spoken in more than twenty-four hours weighed heavy on Colleen’s heart. But there was nothing to be done about it. She and Helen didn’t see eye to eye on the matter and she doubted that anything was going to change that indisputable fact.
“We have a problem.”
Colleen’s head came up at the unexpected sound of Helen’s voice. As Helen crossed the room, Colleen stood, squared her shoulders and faced what would likely be another attempt to sway her decision. But she would not relent. It was completely out of the question.
“I thought we weren’t speaking,” Colleen said crisply when her friend paused next to the antique writing desk.
Helen raised one tawny brow. “We aren’t, but this is an emergency.”
“What sort of emergency?”
It irritated Helen to no end that Colleen could be so blasted analytical about everything—including this. Helen wanted to shake some sense into her, but she knew Colleen too well. Nothing would change her mind unless she wanted to change it. Unfortunately, she didn’t.
“Beth suspects something.”
Colleen wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I would imagine she does. After that little performance you gave in here yesterday, I would think the whole world suspects something is amiss.”
“No.”
The singular word spoken so sharply echoed in the room. Fear seeped into Colleen’s weary bones.
“I mean she really suspects. I’m sure she’s talked to Zach already.”
Colleen nodded. “She has. Zach gave me the third degree last night after he returned from town.”
“It’s time,” Helen said, her gaze pinning Colleen’s with fierce determination. “What if you’d died when you suffered that heart attack? I can’t take this secret to the grave with me. I just can’t do it.”
“But I didn’t die.” Colleen lifted her chin a notch. “It wouldn’t have changed anything if I had. We both know that.”
“It’s wrong for us to say nothing,” Helen insisted, her expression as grim and desperate as her tone. “You know it’s wrong.”
“If that’s all you have to say then there’s nothing else to discuss.” Colleen held her ground, not giving an inch. “You and Beth are a part of this family, Helen. As much as you mean to me, I will not allow you to take matters into your own hands. We took an oath never to speak of this again.”
“We were young.” Helen shook her head, tears shining in her worried eyes. “We didn’t think.”
Colleen struggled to hold back her own tears. “Helen McCormick, I will hold you to that oath until the day I die.”
Helen swiped at the lone tear that managed to escape her brutal hold on her emotions. “This is wrong and you know it. It’s a mistake.”
“That may be. But it’s my decision. If it’s a mistake, then it’s mine to make.”
Two long beats passed before Helen walked away.
Colleen watched her go, sadness welling inside her. What was done was done. There was no turning back now.
“YOU’RE SURE you want to tackle this job, Mr. Ashton?”
Hank, the local handyman, eyed Zach speculatively. At sixty, the man had attempted just about any kind of fixer-up job one could imagine. Including getting his portly frame trapped under Widow Murphy’s house while repairing her faulty plumbing. Ten at the time, Zach vividly recalled the local volunteer fire department having to rescue the man. He doubted Hank crawled under many houses these days. But he’d kept up the maintenance here ever since Beth’s father died.
Zach turned his attention back to the ornate gazebo nestled amid the lush landscape of the backyard where he’d played as a child. Since his mother had decided to have her birthday party here, the gazebo, she had insisted,