But I knew. I always knew.
“I’m always going to love you, Jen,” he whispered. “Always.”
I know that, too. And now you have someone else to love, as well
But can I? he wondered. He’d loved Jen, and then Jason. He didn’t know how to love someone else.
Of course you do, you dummy. I taught you, didn’t I?
To his surprise, Hawk found that he was smiling. He drew another long breath, and on its exhalation, heard the laughter go tumbling away like a butterfly dancing on a sunbeam, sending back a whisper.
It wouldn’t hurt to tell her, you know.
The breeze came through the window and touched his face like a blown kiss. And for a moment he thought he smelled lilacs…
“Oh, I love lilacs,” Jane said with a sigh. “I think they’re my favorite.”
Emma snipped a fat cluster and held it to her own nose for a moment before she handed it to her. “They were Jennifer’s favorite, too,” she said. And then, seeing the shadow that crossed Jane’s face, “What is it, dear?”
Ashamed, she shook her head and tried to laugh it off. But there was something about Emma… She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m not anything like her, you know. Tom says I’m not, even though…”
Emma laughed. “No, you and Jennifer are quite different. For one thing, she was an only child, and undoubtedly spoiled. But supremely self-confident. You…” She paused to give her a thoughtful look. “Life has treated you a bit more harshly, I think. You’re probably a little slower to trust.”
Trust. There was an ache in Jane’s throat. She rubbed it absently and murmured, “But he says I remind him of her. What if…”
“You’re wondering whether he only loves you because you remind him of Jenny.”
“Yes,” said Jane miserably.
Emma said nothing for a moment, while she added one more sprig of lilac to the overflowing flower basket. Then she stripped off her gloves and gently took Jane’s hand.
“Let me tell you how you’re like Tom’s wife,” she said as they walked together, back toward the house. “Let’s see…you’re independent, giving, passionate, compassionate. Warm. Very loving. All those things.” She took a deep breath and lifted her face, for a moment, to the morning sun, as if she somehow found it a comfort. “But where you’re most like her, I think, is that you have an enormous capacity for joy. Jenny had such enthusiasm for life. She brightened your spirits just by walking into a room. And so do you, dear, in your own way.” She gave Jane’s hand a squeeze and then released it. “Tom needs that. He needs you.” She laughed, that low, throaty chuckle that made her seem so much younger than she was. “Even though he may never tell you.”
“But…he does tell me,” Jane said, suddenly understanding. “In his own way…every single day. In little things he does. The way his face lights up when he sees me, as if he’s glad I’m there. Anyone can say it-I should know, my ex-husband used to say it all the time. But Tom makes me feel it. He makes me feel…loved.”
Yes…
Jane glanced at Emma. Had she spoken? It didn’t seem so. and yet the word seemed to hang in the air like the shimmer of sunshine, or the whisper of a breeze.
Up ahead, she could see Tom coming out of the house, with Frank Hostetler behind him. Even from this distance she could see that he was smiling his familiar lopsided smile. Her heart gave a great surge of gladness.
And Hawk’s heart answered, Yes! It was all he needed, all he’d been waiting for…searching for. That look. That sudden brightenting…the flash of light in her sea-gray eyes that always made him think of the joyous leap of dolphins toward the sun.
KATHLEEN CREIGHTON
has roots deep in the California soil, but has relocated to South Carolina. As a child, she enjoyed listening to old-timers’ tales, and her fascination with the past only deepened as she grew older. Today she says she is interested in everything-art, music, gardening, zoology, anthropology and history, but people are at the top of her list. She also has a lifelong passion for writing, and now combines her two loves in romance novels.
