The Christmas She Always Wanted. Stella Bagwell
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her eyes closed and he watched her soft pink lips began to tremble once again. Everything in him longed to bend his head, to kiss away her pain. But he didn’t want her to get the idea that the only thing he wanted from her was physical gratification.
Like heavy stones, regret lay in the pit of his stomach. “Angie—I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
She sounded shaken, accusing, bitter and Jubal was reminded all over again that the choices he’d made five years ago hadn’t just affected his life. They had clearly impacted Angie in all the wrong ways and he couldn’t feel any guiltier about that.
“I’m asking you to forgive me,” he said lowly.
Angela’s heart was racing out of control, urging her to run out the door as fast as she could, but her knees were too weak to move. And when he tugged her toward him, she fell awkwardly against his chest.
Planting her hands against his hard muscles, she pried enough space between them to allow her to look up at him. “Why should my forgiveness matter to you now, Jubal? Surely your conscience has gotten over abadoning me.”
For one split second Angela believed she saw real torment on his face. Or was that just delusional wishing on her part?
“I’ve never gotten over you, Angie. Never.”
Oh God, she wanted to believe him. Because, like it or not, she’d never been able to forget him. Even after he’d hurt her so badly, even after all these years, she’d not been able to turn off the memories of their time together.
“Please, Jubal—”
“Angie, there’s something you need to know. The baby—Evette’s baby—wasn’t mine. After she miscarried, she confessed to me. The real father was a married businessman from Victoria.”
His revelation struck her, numbing her with shock. “Oh, God! No!” she whispered hoarsely.
He nodded stiffly. “See, Angie, I was manipulated, lied to, betrayed. Evette only used me. When her lover refused to divorce his wife and marry her, she turned to her old boyfriend—me, the sucker that I was. I thought I was doing the noble thing. I wanted that child to have a real family. But in the end my efforts made no difference and I lost you in the process.”
Crushed by the utter waste, the injustice of it all, Angela struggled to breathe, to even think. She had to get out of there and away from him before she broke into screaming sobs.
Quickly, without giving him a chance to stop her, she jerked away from his grasp and stumbled out the door. By the time she reached the truck and climbed inside, she was shaking all over. And as she quickly drove away, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to know if he was watching her leave. The same way she’d watched him leave five years ago.
Driving back to the ranch house, Angela turned the heater on high and hoped the warm air would help her shivers subside. She didn’t want Cook to see her in such a shaken state or have to explain why she and Jubal and Melanie weren’t a family. It was simply too painful. Yet she had no doubt that Jubal would eventually see Melanie—their daughter—and then what? Would he put two and two together?
You’ve got to tell him, Angie. The man has lost a child he’d believed to be his. He had no way of knowing that at the same time you were carrying his baby. Even if he did hurt you, now more than ever, he has a right to know he has a daughter.
The voice inside her head was like a thorn in the heel. She couldn’t move forward or backward without it hurting and she wondered how much more time would have to pass before she found the courage to finally pull it out.
Two nights later, Angela was sitting on the couch flipping through a text book for the coming semester, when Melanie, with an armload of storybooks, plopped down beside her.
“Read me a book, please Mommy? The one about the elephant that carries the sick little boy to the doctor.”
Smiling indulgently, Angela reached to take the book from her daughter’s grasp. “You like that story, don’t you?”
Melanie’s little head bobbed up and down. “Yeah! ’Cause the boy gets well. And everybody’s happy—even the elephant.”
“All right. Snuggle close so you can see the pictures,” Angela instructed her as she helped her daughter scoot next to her side.
Thirty minutes later, she’d not only read the elephant story to Melanie, she’d gone through four more books and was about to start on the fifth. Then a knock sounded on the front door.
Excited at the idea of a visitor, Melanie jumped from the couch and raced toward the door. “Somebody’s here! Maybe it’s Jess!”
“Mel, remember what I told you about opening the door? We have to see who’s knocking first.”
Jigging from one foot to the other, Melanie waited impatiently while her mother turned on the porch light and peeped out the small square window.
“Who is it, Mommy? Is it Jess?”
Shocked, Angela stared numbly at the man standing on the small porch, his back to the door. Even without seeing his face, she knew it was Jubal.
What was he doing on her doorstep, she wondered wildly. She’d not seen or spoken to him since she’d delivered the baskets to his house two days ago.
Darting a frantic glance at Melanie, she realized there was nothing to do but invite him in and hope he wouldn’t recognize his own features on her little face.
“It’s a friend,” she finally said to Melanie. “So be on your best behavior. Okay?”
“I’m good, Mommy.” Melanie’s grin was nearly as wide as her face. “You know that.”
Bracing herself, Angela opened the door and waited for Jubal to turn toward her. When he did, she was surprised to see a huge poinsettia plant in his arms and another box jammed under his arm. But it was the sexy grin on his face that really snagged her attention.
“Hello, Angela. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
What could she say? That he’d interrupted her days, her nights, her very dreams for the past five years? No. Boiling the past over and over only cooked up a pot of trouble. She needed to deal with this man in a civil, impersonal way. But the flutter of her heart mocked that plan.
“You’re not. Come in,” she invited.
He was about to step over the threshold when he suddenly spotted Melanie’s gamine face peeping curiously around her mother’s pant leg. He smiled at the girl, then lifted a questioning gaze to Angela.
Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that she felt faint, but she somehow managed to shove the door wide and gesture for him to enter. Once he was inside the small living room, Angela quickly shut the door and turned to face him.
She sensed Melanie clinging to her side, waiting to see if the tall man with the big black hat was someone she wanted to get to know.
“I didn’t expect you to be babysitting,” he said. “I should have called first. But I figured you’d tell me not to come. So I invited myself.”
Breathing deeply, Angela looked down at Melanie. There were so many things about Jubal that she could see in her daughter—their daughter—but hopefully, for tonight at least, he wouldn’t recognize them.
“I…actually, I’m not babysitting, Jubal. Melanie is my daughter.”
Chapter Four
Jubal stared at her in stunned silence. Then finally, after what seemed like ages, he seemed to collect himself.
“Your daughter,” he repeated in stunned fascination. “I didn’t realize—you never mentioned her.”
Angela shrugged casually, but in reality she felt as