Page 17 of Kansas Keeper
His expression darkens a bit when he adds, “I felt so guilty about what happened with you last night. I was afraid that I was letting Sandra down and betraying her memory by letting things get physical with another woman. I still feel married to her.”
Even the strictest interpretations of marriage are only ‘til death do us part’, but I sense that it wouldn’t do any good to mention that. Instead, I manage to say around the acidic lump in my throat, “Right. I understand.”
“So does she!” Beckett exclaims as if this is a great epiphany.
His giddiness is cutting me to the core. Every instinct in my body tells me to leave this man and lick my wounds for a while, but the child inside the house is the strongest magnet in the world holding me here just to be near her.
I gaze out at the flat horizon and wonder what kind of wretched, lifelong torture I’ve signed myself up for by coming here.
17
BECKETT
Ican tell by the torn expression on Mara’s face that I’m not explaining this well. She looks like she’d give anything to cry and run far away from me. There is no doubt in my mind that our little girl is the only thing keeping her here right now.
I’m delighted about Sandra’s visit to me last night, and I want to make Mara understand. But the more I speak, the more hurt she looks. The absolute devastation dulling her gaze is heartbreaking.
This discussion went so much better in my head before she got here. I’m apparently much smoother in my imagination than the real-life version of me actually behaves.No big surprise there.
Deciding it’s probably best to start at the beginning, I say, “I actually slept soundly last night for the first time in months, but I wasn’t asleep when Sandra came.”
“Right, I understand,” Mara says again, but I can tell that she doesn’t understand––at all.
Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “I hope she comes to visit you every night.”
“Oh, she won’t,” I say confidently. Mara is looking down, so I release my clasp on her hand and gently turn her face toward mine. “Don’t you see? She came to tell me she approves of you.”
There is no denying the hope shining in Mara’s eyes when she asks, “She’s okay with me spending time with Embry?”
I should have known that would be her top concern. “Yes, but it’s more than that.”
Mara rumples her eyebrows, clearly curious about my meaning, so I continue. “She wants the three of us to be a family. She gave us her blessing.”
Bewildered is the only word that describes the way Mara looks at me. She sits in stunned silence for so long, I begin to wonder if she has gone into shock.
Eventually, she slowly shakes her head and says, “No… really?”
“Really,” I confirm. She still seems to be at a loss for words so I continue, “I thought it would be a betrayal of Sandra’s memory to be with you, but it’s not. It’s what she wants.”
In a soft tone, Mara asks. “But what about what you want?”
“You’re what I want,” I tell her in a clear tone. Lifting my hand as proof, I add, “I want you so much, I’m shaking. Please say that you want me, too.”
She blinks several times as if she is struggling to comprehend if this is real. After what seems like an interminable wait, she says, “Yes, you and Embry are exactly what I want. Always.”
We lunge for each other then and kiss like our lives depend on it more than air.
“Eww.” Embry’s sound of disgust wafts toward us through the screen door. “It’s brekkie time, not kissy time.”
We both chuckle at our quick-witted child as she swings the door open and joins us outside. She plops down on Mara’s lap as if she belongs there and says to the woman, “I hope you like pancakes.”
“I love them,” Mara answers, beaming down at the little girl.
“Good, ’cause it would be really piss-adointing, if you didn’t like them,” Embry tells her in a serious tone.
“I hope I never piss-adoint you, sweet girl,” the woman says with tears pooling in her lower lids.
We share a smile over our daughter’s head before I lighten the mood by yelling, “Last one in the house is a rotten egg!”
