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| EXCERPT - A PROMISE TO KEEP |
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A Promise to Keep
by Ann Durand
Chapter One
In her rush to beat the bell, Karen Hudson stumbled into her classroom and spilled the pile of
papers bulging from her arms. All the care and attention that went into collating the lessons for
her third graders lay scattered on the floor like a pile of windblown leaves, but it was okay.
She could pick it all up and spill it again, and it would still be all right. It was a little deal.
She was in love. Now that was big. Finally, it had happened to her; and long after she’d given
up hope. As she knelt to gather the fallen papers, she thought about how unlikely it had
seemed six months ago that she would ever find someone. At thirty-seven, her illusions about
snagging a husband with glowing attributes had long since evaporated. Ten years of
floundering in different relationships had cost her the bulk of her passion to marry; a passion
nurtured since her starry-eyed girlhood.
Five years ago, after the last failed romance, she decided to turn it all off and quit dating. It
had been a relief to end the procession of bad dates and boyfriends. She wasn’t looking for
anyone when Michael Browning turned the corner into her life on that first day of school last
September.
The day had been cool and overcast, not the kind associated with luck and romance. The
marine layer stretched all the way from the Pacific Ocean, fifteen miles west, socking in the
entire town of Chawell near San Diego. It was a good day for hanging indoors. Karen was
greeting her new students and their parents as they filtered into her classroom. She didn’t
notice Michael standing silently in the doorway with his eight-year-old daughter, Jennifer.
When she did look over at him, she had the impression he’d been watching her.
As soon as she set eyes on him, he glided over to her, steering Jennifer gently in front of him.
His movements were neither rushed nor reticent. She had the idea that she could set her
clock by his sense of timing. She remembered feeling slightly startled during their
introductions as she looked into his eyes. They were a liquid blue and swimming with lights—
like sunshine swallowed by water. When he spoke, his voice resonated softly, as if the rhythm
in his tone were already calibrated to her heartbeat. What a blissful blur these last six months
had been.
The bell blasted outside her room, jarring her into the present. She scrambled to scoop up the
remaining papers, which she then dumped onto a tabletop. She made a mental note to
assign the job of reorganizing them to Jennifer, who loved to volunteer for that stuff, even as
the other children escaped onto the playground.
She shoved her purse hurriedly into the broom closet still stuffed with props from last year’s
holiday show. As she turned away, she caught her reflection in the long mirror that lined the
door. A pair of dark eyes flashed back at her. My best feature, she thought, as she jammed
the door shut. Her eyes were large and rimmed with long lashes—spaced wide apart, too,
like Jackie Kennedy’s. She liked to think they made her look intelligent, though her long nose
turned her image a little horsy. Sometimes she felt like a candidate for the bride of “Mr. Ed”.
Oh, well, can’t have it all. At least her nose pointed straight down to a set of well-formed lips—
full, maybe too full, but nothing the long nose couldn’t handle.
She met her class at the door and they filed past, laughing and talking. Jennifer stopped and
threw her arms around Karen’s hips and looked up, beaming. Her smile turned on her whole
face, just like her daddy’s. Her eyes were probably like her mother’s, coffee colored and
deep-set.
“Good morning, little missy,” Karen said, giving one of Jennifer’s fat, dark pigtails a tug.
“Hi, Karen—I mean Miss Hudson,” Jennifer said, with an exaggerated wink.
“Yes, around here, my first name is Miss,” Karen told her, laughing.
“My dad said to tell you that dinner is at six-thirty tonight,” Jennifer said, a little too loudly.
“Okay,” Karen whispered, leaning over. “I got it.”
While she did not intend to tether Jennifer to any secrets, she hoped that her dates with
Michael would remain private for as long as possible—and unavailable as fodder among the
gossip groupies in their small town. Chawell, located in the dry sloping hills of California ten
miles north of the Mexican border, weighed in with just under 5,000 residents, and it was
gossip that sustained the idle minded in a town where there was little else to do. A
schoolteacher dating a classroom parent made for a tasty tidbit of news, and considering the
impressive ability of children to share information, probably already had. She looked into
Jennifer’s upturned face and sighed in resignation.
“Six-thirty, then,” she added, smiling. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Okay, you come with bells, then,” Jennifer said, her eyes lighting up, “and I’ll bring the
whistles. Get it? Bells and whistles.”
“Oh, clever child, get to your seat before I blow my whistle on you,” Karen said, shaking her
head in mock derision. Jennifer muffled a laugh and gave Karen another squeeze, refusing to
let go. The bell rang for the class to begin. Karen gently unwrapped Jennifer’s arms and
pointed her in the direction of her seat. “Go on, Jen,” she said, giving her a little push.
As Jennifer headed to her seat, she looked back at Karen. A look of anguish rose swiftly to
her face and revealed itself, like a wink, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Karen blinked.
What was that? Was she okay? Maybe she didn’t like being rushed to her seat…although that
didn’t sound like her. Jennifer loved approval and cooperation—a schoolteacher’s dream
child.
As the children settled into quiet attention, she decided that Jennifer would let her know if
something were wrong—she usually did. She relaxed and began the lesson.
The day hurtled by, as usual, and Karen found herself dismissing the children before she was
ready at the end of the school day. They left in a flurry of activity, the lesson only half done. She
would pick it up again first thing in the morning, while it was still fresh in their minds. She
smiled as she watched them pile out the door, waving and calling to each other.
A small figure held back on the other side of the room, waiting. Karen turned to see Jennifer
watching her. She signaled her to come over with a flip of her head, and Jennifer made her
way across the room as it emptied.
“Miss Hudson? I mean—can I call you Karen now?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, of course, Jen.” Karen stooped over and began plucking scraps of paper off the floor
that had accumulated during the day. Jennifer quietly joined in.
“Miss Hudson, er…Karen, I was wondering… I mean…well…are you going to marry my dad?”
Karen stood up abruptly. “Well, honey, we’re all still getting to know each other, and that’s
good.”
“My dad says it takes an eternity to get to know some people, but after five minutes he felt like
he’d known you all his life.”
Karen turned away to hide the flush she was feeling. “There’s lots of time, Jennifer, lots of
time.”
“I don’t think so,” Jennifer said, under her breath.
Karen stole a look back at her and caught her staring at her shoes, looking a little lost. “What
do you mean, Jen?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think my dad better talk to you.”
Karen felt a sliver of alarm. “Is everything okay?”
“I guess so.” Jennifer drew in a deep breath. “Well, then, I’ll see you later.” Waving goodbye,
she dashed out of the classroom.
Karen stood staring after her. Jennifer was disturbed about something, and it sounded like
Michael knew about it. She wondered if she ought to bring it up to him; say something to
prompt a response, but as she prepared for the next school day she thought better of it. If
there were anything she needed to know, Michael would tell her of his own volition. After all,
trust was the stuff that relationships were based on, wasn’t it? And it was hard to conceive
that the trust between them would do anything but grow.
Chapter Two
The cooling afternoon winds off the Pacific had died out hours earlier, leaving the air thick and
warm by the time twilight settled over Chawell. Karen inhaled deeply, blinking into the setting
sun as she approached the fieldstone wall that surrounded the two-story Mediterranean
home. She paused outside the gate to admire the dazzling presentation of red on white as
the bougainvillea climbed vigorously up the stucco columns and soaring walls of the Browning
home, spraying into fingerlike tufts upon the tile roof. A row of queen palms ringed the
perimeter of the long driveway, giving it a stately air, though the house itself was not huge.
With three bedrooms and two baths, however, there was plenty of room for two people, even
three, Karen mused.
Before entering the gate she pulled a compact from her purse and fluffed her short, brown
hair, thinking she could use a little hairspray. She had returned home after school to wash and
blow-dry it, though it hadn’t been dirty. She couldn’t believe the trouble she was willing to take
for this guy, even after six months. What little body she had worked into her hair with the dryer
was gone. Michael liked her hair soft though, so she had retired her bottle of spray
indefinitely. She stuffed the mirror back into her purse and reached for the latch, just as
Jennifer blew out of the house, arms held high in greeting. Karen closed the gate behind her
and caught the charging girl.
“I’ve been waiting for you! You’re late,” Jennifer scolded.
“Only fifteen minutes. That’s fashionably late.”
“No fashion excuses. Your clothes won’t help you.” Jennifer shook her finger, her eyes
twinkling.
“Well, there goes my defense. I am at your mercy.” Karen held up both hands.
“Okay, I forgive you,” Jennifer said impatiently. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”
She grabbed Karen’s hand and pulled her into the house. As soon as Karen entered the front
door, the scent of cooked fish filled her nostrils. Not her favorite dish, but Michael was such a
good cook. He could probably turn gray paste into a culinary delight. Jennifer led her into the
kitchen, where they found Michael in a full-length apron, his back turned as he worked the grill.
Karen’s eyes absorbed his familiar frame: wide shoulders and a lengthy backside narrowing
over lean hips and long legs. He looked relaxed in his jeans and short-sleeved khaki shirt.
She smiled to see his pecan colored hair forced, once again, into near straightness by his
blow-drier—a futile effort as it did not take long for it to screw itself back into a tight bundle of
spirals like a nest of ribbon curls. Especially now, working in the steamy kitchen, his nape was
already fringed with rebel hairs threatening to infect his whole head. It made him seem
vulnerable somehow, and she restrained an impulse to kiss the back of his neck.
Michael lifted a small bottle of salt and sprinkled the fish lightly. “Which one of you is going to
get first choice for one of these scrumptious fillets?”
“Me,” Jennifer offered quickly.
“Okay, I’ll take the second first choice then,” Karen joked, and sniffed the air. “Mm, is that chili
powder I smell with your scrumptious fillets?”
Good, she thought feeling grateful that he had used a strong spice. Chili powder should mask
the taste of fish rather well.
“Ah, good nose, my dear. Come here, so that I might pay it my respects.”
Karen sidled up next to Michael, wiggling her nose. He turned and gave it a peck, then leaned
in and planted a slower kiss on her lips. Karen blinked and pulled away.
“That wasn’t my nose,” she said, feigning betrayal.
His blue eyes shimmered. “No, just a kissing cousin.”
An involuntary snort escaped Karen’s throat, and she covered her mouth, laughing. Michael
wrapped the crook of his arm around her head and pulled her to him, trapping her forehead
against his lips. He left them there, lingering.
“Hey!” Jennifer chimed in, stamping her foot, though she was smiling broadly. “Knock it off you
guys. I’m here too, you know.”
“Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Set the table, will you?” Michael opened the utensil drawer and
cast a teasing glance at his daughter.
“Shoot. How come I get so lucky?” Jennifer said, with a glint in her eyes. She plucked out
some forks and knives, and skipped into the dining room.
“She’s wonderful, Michael,” Karen said, and meant it.
If ever a packaged deal of parent and child were going to work with a new partner, this was it.
Karen was not walking into this as a stranger to Jennifer, and the bond felt mutually happy.
“Yep. I’ve been blessed with that one,” Michael said, a soft look in his eyes. “I am so grateful
to you, Karen, really. You’ve done so much with her—she cherishes you. She even loves
going to school these days, which is a miracle, believe me.”
“Oh, come on. She’s always loved her teachers. I can tell.”
Michael paused. “Yes, when she wasn’t overly anxious,” he said.
Karen drew in a breath. There it was again. “What could possibly upset her to the extent that
she wouldn’t want to go to school?”
Michael squeezed her hand. “Not now. We don’t have to do this yet.” Yet? “Anyway,” he said,
leaning toward her. “I’m wondering if your taste buds are as good as your nose.”
He scooped a forkful of fish from the grilling basket and held it up to Karen’s mouth, which she
opened dutifully, her eyes closed. She felt the morsel eased into her mouth, and the warm wet
flavors of lime and chili powder slipped over her tongue. She chewed slowly, for effect.
Michael kissed her again as she swallowed.
“Mm. Really, really good,” she said gulping. “And the fish was good, too.”
“Lots more where that came from. Same goes for the fish, you know.”
Karen felt herself blushing. She’d felt ready to give herself over to him for a few weeks now.
Her own willingness—no, eagerness—surprised her. God, it had been such a long time. She
recalled last Friday night on the sofa after Jennifer had gone to bed. Michael’s lips found their
way past hers, traveling down her neck to her shoulder, nibbling all the way. Even thinking
about it now drew up goose bumps.
Karen excused herself to join Jennifer in the dining room, but not before she noticed Michael
studying her goose flesh, a knowing look in his eyes. Feeling both happy and flustered, she
grabbed a set of ivory plates and napkins and carried them into the dining room. As she set
the plates down on the table she looked into the living room.
Everywhere, her eyes met with the simple, clean lines of contemporary furniture. There was no
clutter anywhere. His pieces were fashioned from solid walnut with doweled joints and hand
designed inlays. Thick, tightly woven, custom upholstery in neutral colors covered the chairs
and couches. Obviously, his computer business was doing well. And everything matched, as
if he had bought it all on the same day. It was unreal.
Not at all like her house—now there was real for you. Her furniture was a montage of impulse
buys piecemealed together over the years—overstuffed chairs, an old floral couch flanked by
antique end tables, a naturally distressed dining set, and loads of plants and collectibles.
Comfy, she liked to think, but nothing Country Home Magazine was going to come knocking
down her door to see. Michael, on the other hand, just might invite a visit from the editors of
Streamlined Living, if such a magazine existed. She wondered how her style would mesh with
his in the same home, assuming they got to that point. She wanted to get to that point.
The meal went quickly, and Karen promised herself that she’d never eat fish again without
chili powder. Leave it to Michael to make even fish palatable to her.
After dinner Jennifer settled in to do her homework in the den while Karen cleared the table
with Michael. Jennifer had been talkative during the meal, and Karen was relishing the relative
quiet, with only the sounds of clinking dishes and Michael’s soft breathing. She followed him
into the kitchen, and they stood side by side as she rinsed while he sorted the plates and
glasses into the dishwasher. Michael seemed thoughtful, and Karen allowed herself to drift
into a place in her mind filled with his kisses and warm caresses.
She felt his hip rub against her as he leaned over to pick up the dishwasher soap, and her
heart fluttered. Like a schoolgirl, she thought. When the dishes were stacked Michael turned
to Karen. The look on his face was deadly solemn. God, what had happened? She’d been so
lost in her reverie that she failed to notice the change in him. To make it worse, he gathered
up both her hands. Uh oh, here it comes. He’s going to tell me what’s bothering Jennifer. She
caught her breath as another thought occurred to her. What if some old flame has turned up in
his life? No, no. Don’t let your insecurities get the best of you, she warned herself. There is no
other woman; she knew him better than that.
“Karen,” he started.
“Was that a question?”
“Uh, no. Not a question. But I think I need to give you some answers.”
“I didn’t realize I was asking anything,” she said.
“No, of course not. You’re not. That’s not what I mean. You just deserve to have an
explanation, as much as possible, anyway. That’s all.”
A chill ran up Karen’s spine. “Okay,” she said, steadying her voice. “Is this true confessions?
Are you going to tell me that you have a wife in another town?” She forced a laugh, but
Michael did not join her.
Steady girl, she told herself. You know the story. Michael’s wife—Jennifer’s mother—
Amanda, had passed from breast cancer four years ago. Michael’s grief had been acute.
Even now, it was difficult for him to talk about it. Whenever the subject came up, he would
balk. After a few awkward moments, Karen would steer the conversation elsewhere, hoping
the day would come when he felt safe enough to share it with her. Then, maybe, she’d learn
about the years after Amanda died…those three years that he kept to himself, shrouded in
the wounded section of his heart. It must have been torturous, losing his beloved and the
mother of his young child.
Michael drew in a deep breath. “Karen, I want you to trust me. I need for you to trust me…a lot.”
Okay. Those were good words. “I do, Michael.” She was startled by the intense look in his
eyes. “Is everything okay? Because if something is wrong, I would hope you’d tell me, so that I
can help.”
A small, choking noise fell out of Michael’s throat, and he pulled Karen to him in a full
embrace, surprising her. She wanted to see his face and tried to pull back, but his grip was
firm.
“Thank you, my beautiful, Karen. Beautiful, beautiful you,” he breathed, kissing the side of her
head.
A torrent of feeling welled up inside Karen. All the love she felt for this man swirled around
inside her mixing with that fatal elixir she understood as doubt; doubt that fed on the fear of
losing something special and rare. She felt dizzy and gripped the front of Michael’s shirt for
support. As if mistaking her weakness for ardor, his hold around her tightened, and his lips
urgently searched her face, covering her mouth with a firmness she hadn’t felt before.
Karen kissed him back. Whatever was going on with Michael, she wanted to be a part of it.
He and Jennifer were both already a part of her. He moved an arm to stroke the back of her
head, and she used her freed hand to tickle his side. He released her, laughing.
“Not quite so much passion before somebody’s bedtime, okay? She could walk in on us, you
know,” Karen said.
“I know. It’s just so easy to get carried away with you.” The look in Michael’s eyes was tender.
“And speaking of her bedtime, we’re about there, so I’ll go tell her it’s time. Then we’ll talk.”
His face took on a somber edge again as he turned and left the room. Michael joined Jennifer
in the den, while Karen finished up in the kitchen, wiping off the counters and sink, her mind
reeling. For the first time since she’d met Michael, she felt nervous. Something was going on,
something that had him scared…as if he thought she might not stick with him. Karen lowered
her head and squeezed her eyes. No please, no. Not this time. Not with this one. She heard a
noise behind her and turned to see Jennifer standing in the doorway.
“Daddy says I need to say good-night,” Jennifer announced.
“Well, come on, let’s have a hug.”
Even Jennifer looked grim. What was going on here? Jennifer rushed over and buried her
face in Karen’s skirt and hugged her hard.
“You’re the best teacher I ever had,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure you say that to all your best teachers,” Karen teased.
“No,” Jennifer said, without elaborating.
“Okay, honey. Are you alright?” Jennifer nodded into Karen’s skirt, her face hidden. “Well, if
something is wrong, you can talk to me. Whenever you want. You know that, don’t you,
sweetie?” Jennifer nodded again, and Karen sighed. “Okay. Whatever it is Jen, don’t worry, it’
ll work out. Things always seem to work out. You just have to be patient. You know what they
say, don’t you?” Jennifer released her hold on Karen and looked up at her with puffy eyes.
Had she been crying?
“What do they say?”
“Good things come to those who wait. Did you know that?”
Jennifer watched her a moment, then blinked and smiled. “That’s what I’ll do, then. I’ll wait for
you,” she said, sounding more cheerful.
“But you don’t have to wait for me. I’m right here.” Karen felt confused. Was Jennifer trying to
tell her something?
“I know,” Jennifer said, and hugged her again.
Karen knew better than to press her into talking. She wasn’t ready. In time, Jen would tell—
children nearly always did if you didn’t force it. A more relieved looking little girl finally left for
bed, and Karen made her way into the den to wait for Michael, who had gone upstairs with
Jennifer. She turned on the CD player and settled on the couch, laying her head back as soft
jazz filled the room. Fifteen minutes later, she heard Jennifer’s bedroom door shut and
Michael’s long legged gait as he made his way down the stairs and into the den. He slid up
next to her on the cushion.
“Now, where were we?” he asked, lifting his finger to stroke her cheek.
“Well, I kind of hate to remind you, but weren’t we going to talk about something?” Karen drew
her head up from the couch.
He picked up her hand in both of his. “Yes, we are.” He searched her eyes. “Karen, you must
know how I feel about you. I know we haven’t said it, but this is the real thing for me.”
“Me too, Michael.”
He placed his finger over her lips. “Just listen, or I’ll lose my nerve.” It didn’t look like he was
kidding. “What I’m trying to say, among other things, is that I love you. We haven’t even made
love yet, and I’m sure of it. We’ve known each other for six months; we’ve spent a lot of time
together, and I feel as sure about this as I’ve ever felt about anything.”
Was that it? Was he just nervous about expressing his love? Sweet. Karen felt her heart lift
into a cloud of bliss. He was expressing her own heart’s desire and wanted to tell him so, but
his finger gently returned to her lips.
“I thought there was plenty of time for us,” he said. “but…the thing is, everything has changed. I
mean, it’s going to change very soon, and I need for you to listen...you may need to remember
this very hard.” Karen gulped. Wasn’t this a little ominous to be following a declaration of
love? Michael looked deep into her eyes and continued. “You…we…are going to be
challenged by outside influences, and you will hear things that are going to shock you. Things
about me that aren’t true.” Michael’s voice grew softer. “I love you, and I’m confident about
that. I want you to feel confident about me, too. Are you?”
Karen realized she had opened her mouth, and she shut it, trying to concentrate through
rapidly mounting fear. “Yes, Michael. I am.”
After all, wasn’t he the guy who had lavished her with attention these past months, without
asking for anything in return? All the advancements in their relationship had been initiated or
invited by her. He had allowed her to set the terms, according to her comfort level. There was
no pushing or rushing, ever. They had spent more time talking about life and ideas and
children and art, or whatever they fancied.
“And I love you, too,” she added, placing her hand on his. “I’ve known it for a while. But what, I
mean…”
Michael kissed her hand. “Well, this is the hard part. I can’t tell you. I can’t risk putting you in
that position. Yet I need for you to remember us, as we are now, and to trust me.”
“Oh, Michael, tell me. Please. Don’t you trust me?”
“Oh, I do. It’s not that. It just wouldn’t help either of us for me to tell you now. That time will
come, but I’m going to need to work things out first…that’s all.” He cupped her chin. “Do you
think you can trust me through whatever may happen? And will you promise to remember me,
as you know me now?”
Karen stared into his eyes. Everything inside them was soft and easy to read. “Yes,” she said.
“How could I forget who you are? And I do trust you. I don’t know why you need to ask for it, but
I’m sure you have your reasons. I’ll stand by you, but as soon as you can, you’re going to let
me know what this is about, right?” Michael nodded. “Well, then Michael…” She spread her
hands, palms up. “…I remain all yours.”
It was a leap of faith, but did she have a choice? She was in love, and it was too late to back
out of that. She could only hope that this mystery would not be a complicated one. Michael
was watching her, carefully.
“Karen,” he whispered and leaned over until his cheek was pressed against hers.
The scent of him surrounded her, musky and sweet. She inhaled, and placed her hand on the
back of his neck, fondling the hairs at his nape. He was facing something difficult, painful
even, but she didn’t want him to think about it now. If he couldn’t tell her, then she wanted to
soothe him and make it stop hurting. His lips slid over her cheek, and she turned her head to
meet them. He kissed her lightly, drew back, and then kissed her again.
Karen felt her heart flutter. A pulsing emanated in the depth between her hips in gentle waves.
She arched her back slightly and pressed her chest into his. His hands on her back migrated
apart, one moving to her neck and the other to the small of her back. Their smooth
movements excited her. He was kissing her more deeply, though his touch was still tender.
Karen felt her breathing change.
Michael slipped his hand under the collar of her blouse and rubbed her shoulder. She leaned
back, allowing him to extend his reach until his hand was above her breast. She then reached
around her back and undid her bra.
“Michael,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
Michael paused and kissed her again. Then he moved his hands away and looked into her
eyes, smiling tenderly. He had stopped. Why?
“Karen, my love. My beautiful love,” he said. “There is nothing…nothing that I’d like better than
to take you into my arms. I want to hold you and make love to you all night.”
“But?”
“But it wouldn’t be fair to you, not yet.”
“Oh, Michael, if that’s it—then trust me.” Karen nudged closer to him. “Let me be the judge of
that, okay?”
“Very soon you’ll know for sure. A little longer.” Michael pulled her head onto his chest and
kissed the top of it, as he wrapped his arms around her. “You are my love, my only love.” That
did it. Karen’s resistance evaporated. She sighed and relaxed into his embrace.
“And you are mine, Michael.”
Chapter Three
Karen returned home and fell into a deep sleep moments after her head hit the pillow,
confident that she had found the one man in a million for her. By mid-morning the next day,
however, it was beginning to feel like a distant memory. Jennifer did not show up at school.
Karen caught herself glancing repeatedly at her empty desk during first period, surprised that
Michael had not alerted her with a phone call.
She called the house on her cell during the first break, but the answering service picked up.
She left a message asking him to call her as soon as possible. It was very unusual for him not
to be there since he worked out of his home office. Mary Latham, her friend who taught
second grade in the classroom next to hers, suggested that maybe he had taken Jennifer to
the doctor. A possibility, Karen thought, and felt a little better, though an unsettled feeling was
gnawing at her gut.
She called him during her lunch break and got the answering service again. She left another
message sounding more urgent. She hoped she wasn’t sending alarm signals to him, but
something wasn’t adding up, and her uneasiness compelled her.
Craving reassurance, she went looking for Mary and found her in the teacher’s lunchroom
sitting alone and chewing on a large sandwich. Mary loved to eat, and Karen guessed she
was tipping the scales at around 200 pounds. Still, she was easy to look at with creamy skin
and attractive features framed by a crop of short and shiny brown hair. Karen grabbed the
seat next to her, and opened a bottle of water, taking a long slug.
“Great lunch,” Mary said, eyeing the bottle.
“I can’t eat,” Karen said flatly.
“Still no answer?”
Karen nodded. “It’s not like him. Something’s going on.”
“Well sweetheart, don’t jump off the Coronado Bridge just yet. Everyone does things out of
the ordinary occasionally. The odds are that he’s just taking care of business and he’ll call you
tonight, if not sooner.”
Karen bit her lip. “There’s nothing I’d like to believe more than that, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, last night, he told me some things,” Karen began.
But he hadn’t really told her anything, and she didn’t feel comfortable divulging what little she
did know. Something bad was supposed to happen and she had been asked to blindly trust
him through it, whatever it was. Was that the pact between them? It sounded so dark.
“It’s just that I don’t know what’s going on, that’s all.” That was more the truth.
“He’s not in some kind of trouble, is he?”
“No, no.” Karen waved her hand. That was murky stuff and she had no defenses for it, so she
wasn’t going there. “You’re probably right; he’ll call soon.”
“I’m sure he will, Karen,” Mary said, and patted her hand.
By the end of the school day, he still had not called back. After ushering the children out the
door, Karen made some hurried adjustments in her lesson plans, packed up some bundles of
papers to correct at home later and left for the Browning’s house. A few blocks later, she
eased her Corolla down the long driveway and parked in front of the garage door, which had
been left open. Michael’s Land Rover was gone.
As Karen approached the front door, she fought to keep her panic at bay. He had probably
made an emergency business trip or something, and would explain it all later, when he got
back. It was sure to be something simple like that. She knocked, waited, and then rang the
doorbell. When no one came, she slid her key into the front door lock and pushed it open.
Aside from one of Jennifer’s puzzles spilled on the staircase to her left, everything seemed
normal. She stepped cautiously inside.
“Michael?”
Her voice echoed through the house. She walked around the downstairs, into the kitchen and
the den, the living room, and finally Michael’s office. It was there that her heart almost
stopped. The drawers in his desk, his shelves, and his filing cabinet: all had been emptied.
Even his computer was gone.
Karen stood for a long time, staring. Obviously, this had something to do with their talk last
night, but what did it mean? Why would he leave without her? Wasn’t that whole conversation
about sticking it out together?
She edged her way upstairs, convinced that she would not find clothes in either of their
bedrooms. Many of Jennifer’s toys and books were gone, too. Only her completed homework
assignment sat on her desk. Numbed and shaking, Karen picked it up and made her way
back to her car. Somehow, she drove herself home.
by Ann Durand
Chapter One
In her rush to beat the bell, Karen Hudson stumbled into her classroom and spilled the pile of
papers bulging from her arms. All the care and attention that went into collating the lessons for
her third graders lay scattered on the floor like a pile of windblown leaves, but it was okay.
She could pick it all up and spill it again, and it would still be all right. It was a little deal.
She was in love. Now that was big. Finally, it had happened to her; and long after she’d given
up hope. As she knelt to gather the fallen papers, she thought about how unlikely it had
seemed six months ago that she would ever find someone. At thirty-seven, her illusions about
snagging a husband with glowing attributes had long since evaporated. Ten years of
floundering in different relationships had cost her the bulk of her passion to marry; a passion
nurtured since her starry-eyed girlhood.
Five years ago, after the last failed romance, she decided to turn it all off and quit dating. It
had been a relief to end the procession of bad dates and boyfriends. She wasn’t looking for
anyone when Michael Browning turned the corner into her life on that first day of school last
September.
The day had been cool and overcast, not the kind associated with luck and romance. The
marine layer stretched all the way from the Pacific Ocean, fifteen miles west, socking in the
entire town of Chawell near San Diego. It was a good day for hanging indoors. Karen was
greeting her new students and their parents as they filtered into her classroom. She didn’t
notice Michael standing silently in the doorway with his eight-year-old daughter, Jennifer.
When she did look over at him, she had the impression he’d been watching her.
As soon as she set eyes on him, he glided over to her, steering Jennifer gently in front of him.
His movements were neither rushed nor reticent. She had the idea that she could set her
clock by his sense of timing. She remembered feeling slightly startled during their
introductions as she looked into his eyes. They were a liquid blue and swimming with lights—
like sunshine swallowed by water. When he spoke, his voice resonated softly, as if the rhythm
in his tone were already calibrated to her heartbeat. What a blissful blur these last six months
had been.
The bell blasted outside her room, jarring her into the present. She scrambled to scoop up the
remaining papers, which she then dumped onto a tabletop. She made a mental note to
assign the job of reorganizing them to Jennifer, who loved to volunteer for that stuff, even as
the other children escaped onto the playground.
She shoved her purse hurriedly into the broom closet still stuffed with props from last year’s
holiday show. As she turned away, she caught her reflection in the long mirror that lined the
door. A pair of dark eyes flashed back at her. My best feature, she thought, as she jammed
the door shut. Her eyes were large and rimmed with long lashes—spaced wide apart, too,
like Jackie Kennedy’s. She liked to think they made her look intelligent, though her long nose
turned her image a little horsy. Sometimes she felt like a candidate for the bride of “Mr. Ed”.
Oh, well, can’t have it all. At least her nose pointed straight down to a set of well-formed lips—
full, maybe too full, but nothing the long nose couldn’t handle.
She met her class at the door and they filed past, laughing and talking. Jennifer stopped and
threw her arms around Karen’s hips and looked up, beaming. Her smile turned on her whole
face, just like her daddy’s. Her eyes were probably like her mother’s, coffee colored and
deep-set.
“Good morning, little missy,” Karen said, giving one of Jennifer’s fat, dark pigtails a tug.
“Hi, Karen—I mean Miss Hudson,” Jennifer said, with an exaggerated wink.
“Yes, around here, my first name is Miss,” Karen told her, laughing.
“My dad said to tell you that dinner is at six-thirty tonight,” Jennifer said, a little too loudly.
“Okay,” Karen whispered, leaning over. “I got it.”
While she did not intend to tether Jennifer to any secrets, she hoped that her dates with
Michael would remain private for as long as possible—and unavailable as fodder among the
gossip groupies in their small town. Chawell, located in the dry sloping hills of California ten
miles north of the Mexican border, weighed in with just under 5,000 residents, and it was
gossip that sustained the idle minded in a town where there was little else to do. A
schoolteacher dating a classroom parent made for a tasty tidbit of news, and considering the
impressive ability of children to share information, probably already had. She looked into
Jennifer’s upturned face and sighed in resignation.
“Six-thirty, then,” she added, smiling. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Okay, you come with bells, then,” Jennifer said, her eyes lighting up, “and I’ll bring the
whistles. Get it? Bells and whistles.”
“Oh, clever child, get to your seat before I blow my whistle on you,” Karen said, shaking her
head in mock derision. Jennifer muffled a laugh and gave Karen another squeeze, refusing to
let go. The bell rang for the class to begin. Karen gently unwrapped Jennifer’s arms and
pointed her in the direction of her seat. “Go on, Jen,” she said, giving her a little push.
As Jennifer headed to her seat, she looked back at Karen. A look of anguish rose swiftly to
her face and revealed itself, like a wink, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Karen blinked.
What was that? Was she okay? Maybe she didn’t like being rushed to her seat…although that
didn’t sound like her. Jennifer loved approval and cooperation—a schoolteacher’s dream
child.
As the children settled into quiet attention, she decided that Jennifer would let her know if
something were wrong—she usually did. She relaxed and began the lesson.
The day hurtled by, as usual, and Karen found herself dismissing the children before she was
ready at the end of the school day. They left in a flurry of activity, the lesson only half done. She
would pick it up again first thing in the morning, while it was still fresh in their minds. She
smiled as she watched them pile out the door, waving and calling to each other.
A small figure held back on the other side of the room, waiting. Karen turned to see Jennifer
watching her. She signaled her to come over with a flip of her head, and Jennifer made her
way across the room as it emptied.
“Miss Hudson? I mean—can I call you Karen now?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, of course, Jen.” Karen stooped over and began plucking scraps of paper off the floor
that had accumulated during the day. Jennifer quietly joined in.
“Miss Hudson, er…Karen, I was wondering… I mean…well…are you going to marry my dad?”
Karen stood up abruptly. “Well, honey, we’re all still getting to know each other, and that’s
good.”
“My dad says it takes an eternity to get to know some people, but after five minutes he felt like
he’d known you all his life.”
Karen turned away to hide the flush she was feeling. “There’s lots of time, Jennifer, lots of
time.”
“I don’t think so,” Jennifer said, under her breath.
Karen stole a look back at her and caught her staring at her shoes, looking a little lost. “What
do you mean, Jen?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think my dad better talk to you.”
Karen felt a sliver of alarm. “Is everything okay?”
“I guess so.” Jennifer drew in a deep breath. “Well, then, I’ll see you later.” Waving goodbye,
she dashed out of the classroom.
Karen stood staring after her. Jennifer was disturbed about something, and it sounded like
Michael knew about it. She wondered if she ought to bring it up to him; say something to
prompt a response, but as she prepared for the next school day she thought better of it. If
there were anything she needed to know, Michael would tell her of his own volition. After all,
trust was the stuff that relationships were based on, wasn’t it? And it was hard to conceive
that the trust between them would do anything but grow.
Chapter Two
The cooling afternoon winds off the Pacific had died out hours earlier, leaving the air thick and
warm by the time twilight settled over Chawell. Karen inhaled deeply, blinking into the setting
sun as she approached the fieldstone wall that surrounded the two-story Mediterranean
home. She paused outside the gate to admire the dazzling presentation of red on white as
the bougainvillea climbed vigorously up the stucco columns and soaring walls of the Browning
home, spraying into fingerlike tufts upon the tile roof. A row of queen palms ringed the
perimeter of the long driveway, giving it a stately air, though the house itself was not huge.
With three bedrooms and two baths, however, there was plenty of room for two people, even
three, Karen mused.
Before entering the gate she pulled a compact from her purse and fluffed her short, brown
hair, thinking she could use a little hairspray. She had returned home after school to wash and
blow-dry it, though it hadn’t been dirty. She couldn’t believe the trouble she was willing to take
for this guy, even after six months. What little body she had worked into her hair with the dryer
was gone. Michael liked her hair soft though, so she had retired her bottle of spray
indefinitely. She stuffed the mirror back into her purse and reached for the latch, just as
Jennifer blew out of the house, arms held high in greeting. Karen closed the gate behind her
and caught the charging girl.
“I’ve been waiting for you! You’re late,” Jennifer scolded.
“Only fifteen minutes. That’s fashionably late.”
“No fashion excuses. Your clothes won’t help you.” Jennifer shook her finger, her eyes
twinkling.
“Well, there goes my defense. I am at your mercy.” Karen held up both hands.
“Okay, I forgive you,” Jennifer said impatiently. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”
She grabbed Karen’s hand and pulled her into the house. As soon as Karen entered the front
door, the scent of cooked fish filled her nostrils. Not her favorite dish, but Michael was such a
good cook. He could probably turn gray paste into a culinary delight. Jennifer led her into the
kitchen, where they found Michael in a full-length apron, his back turned as he worked the grill.
Karen’s eyes absorbed his familiar frame: wide shoulders and a lengthy backside narrowing
over lean hips and long legs. He looked relaxed in his jeans and short-sleeved khaki shirt.
She smiled to see his pecan colored hair forced, once again, into near straightness by his
blow-drier—a futile effort as it did not take long for it to screw itself back into a tight bundle of
spirals like a nest of ribbon curls. Especially now, working in the steamy kitchen, his nape was
already fringed with rebel hairs threatening to infect his whole head. It made him seem
vulnerable somehow, and she restrained an impulse to kiss the back of his neck.
Michael lifted a small bottle of salt and sprinkled the fish lightly. “Which one of you is going to
get first choice for one of these scrumptious fillets?”
“Me,” Jennifer offered quickly.
“Okay, I’ll take the second first choice then,” Karen joked, and sniffed the air. “Mm, is that chili
powder I smell with your scrumptious fillets?”
Good, she thought feeling grateful that he had used a strong spice. Chili powder should mask
the taste of fish rather well.
“Ah, good nose, my dear. Come here, so that I might pay it my respects.”
Karen sidled up next to Michael, wiggling her nose. He turned and gave it a peck, then leaned
in and planted a slower kiss on her lips. Karen blinked and pulled away.
“That wasn’t my nose,” she said, feigning betrayal.
His blue eyes shimmered. “No, just a kissing cousin.”
An involuntary snort escaped Karen’s throat, and she covered her mouth, laughing. Michael
wrapped the crook of his arm around her head and pulled her to him, trapping her forehead
against his lips. He left them there, lingering.
“Hey!” Jennifer chimed in, stamping her foot, though she was smiling broadly. “Knock it off you
guys. I’m here too, you know.”
“Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Set the table, will you?” Michael opened the utensil drawer and
cast a teasing glance at his daughter.
“Shoot. How come I get so lucky?” Jennifer said, with a glint in her eyes. She plucked out
some forks and knives, and skipped into the dining room.
“She’s wonderful, Michael,” Karen said, and meant it.
If ever a packaged deal of parent and child were going to work with a new partner, this was it.
Karen was not walking into this as a stranger to Jennifer, and the bond felt mutually happy.
“Yep. I’ve been blessed with that one,” Michael said, a soft look in his eyes. “I am so grateful
to you, Karen, really. You’ve done so much with her—she cherishes you. She even loves
going to school these days, which is a miracle, believe me.”
“Oh, come on. She’s always loved her teachers. I can tell.”
Michael paused. “Yes, when she wasn’t overly anxious,” he said.
Karen drew in a breath. There it was again. “What could possibly upset her to the extent that
she wouldn’t want to go to school?”
Michael squeezed her hand. “Not now. We don’t have to do this yet.” Yet? “Anyway,” he said,
leaning toward her. “I’m wondering if your taste buds are as good as your nose.”
He scooped a forkful of fish from the grilling basket and held it up to Karen’s mouth, which she
opened dutifully, her eyes closed. She felt the morsel eased into her mouth, and the warm wet
flavors of lime and chili powder slipped over her tongue. She chewed slowly, for effect.
Michael kissed her again as she swallowed.
“Mm. Really, really good,” she said gulping. “And the fish was good, too.”
“Lots more where that came from. Same goes for the fish, you know.”
Karen felt herself blushing. She’d felt ready to give herself over to him for a few weeks now.
Her own willingness—no, eagerness—surprised her. God, it had been such a long time. She
recalled last Friday night on the sofa after Jennifer had gone to bed. Michael’s lips found their
way past hers, traveling down her neck to her shoulder, nibbling all the way. Even thinking
about it now drew up goose bumps.
Karen excused herself to join Jennifer in the dining room, but not before she noticed Michael
studying her goose flesh, a knowing look in his eyes. Feeling both happy and flustered, she
grabbed a set of ivory plates and napkins and carried them into the dining room. As she set
the plates down on the table she looked into the living room.
Everywhere, her eyes met with the simple, clean lines of contemporary furniture. There was no
clutter anywhere. His pieces were fashioned from solid walnut with doweled joints and hand
designed inlays. Thick, tightly woven, custom upholstery in neutral colors covered the chairs
and couches. Obviously, his computer business was doing well. And everything matched, as
if he had bought it all on the same day. It was unreal.
Not at all like her house—now there was real for you. Her furniture was a montage of impulse
buys piecemealed together over the years—overstuffed chairs, an old floral couch flanked by
antique end tables, a naturally distressed dining set, and loads of plants and collectibles.
Comfy, she liked to think, but nothing Country Home Magazine was going to come knocking
down her door to see. Michael, on the other hand, just might invite a visit from the editors of
Streamlined Living, if such a magazine existed. She wondered how her style would mesh with
his in the same home, assuming they got to that point. She wanted to get to that point.
The meal went quickly, and Karen promised herself that she’d never eat fish again without
chili powder. Leave it to Michael to make even fish palatable to her.
After dinner Jennifer settled in to do her homework in the den while Karen cleared the table
with Michael. Jennifer had been talkative during the meal, and Karen was relishing the relative
quiet, with only the sounds of clinking dishes and Michael’s soft breathing. She followed him
into the kitchen, and they stood side by side as she rinsed while he sorted the plates and
glasses into the dishwasher. Michael seemed thoughtful, and Karen allowed herself to drift
into a place in her mind filled with his kisses and warm caresses.
She felt his hip rub against her as he leaned over to pick up the dishwasher soap, and her
heart fluttered. Like a schoolgirl, she thought. When the dishes were stacked Michael turned
to Karen. The look on his face was deadly solemn. God, what had happened? She’d been so
lost in her reverie that she failed to notice the change in him. To make it worse, he gathered
up both her hands. Uh oh, here it comes. He’s going to tell me what’s bothering Jennifer. She
caught her breath as another thought occurred to her. What if some old flame has turned up in
his life? No, no. Don’t let your insecurities get the best of you, she warned herself. There is no
other woman; she knew him better than that.
“Karen,” he started.
“Was that a question?”
“Uh, no. Not a question. But I think I need to give you some answers.”
“I didn’t realize I was asking anything,” she said.
“No, of course not. You’re not. That’s not what I mean. You just deserve to have an
explanation, as much as possible, anyway. That’s all.”
A chill ran up Karen’s spine. “Okay,” she said, steadying her voice. “Is this true confessions?
Are you going to tell me that you have a wife in another town?” She forced a laugh, but
Michael did not join her.
Steady girl, she told herself. You know the story. Michael’s wife—Jennifer’s mother—
Amanda, had passed from breast cancer four years ago. Michael’s grief had been acute.
Even now, it was difficult for him to talk about it. Whenever the subject came up, he would
balk. After a few awkward moments, Karen would steer the conversation elsewhere, hoping
the day would come when he felt safe enough to share it with her. Then, maybe, she’d learn
about the years after Amanda died…those three years that he kept to himself, shrouded in
the wounded section of his heart. It must have been torturous, losing his beloved and the
mother of his young child.
Michael drew in a deep breath. “Karen, I want you to trust me. I need for you to trust me…a lot.”
Okay. Those were good words. “I do, Michael.” She was startled by the intense look in his
eyes. “Is everything okay? Because if something is wrong, I would hope you’d tell me, so that I
can help.”
A small, choking noise fell out of Michael’s throat, and he pulled Karen to him in a full
embrace, surprising her. She wanted to see his face and tried to pull back, but his grip was
firm.
“Thank you, my beautiful, Karen. Beautiful, beautiful you,” he breathed, kissing the side of her
head.
A torrent of feeling welled up inside Karen. All the love she felt for this man swirled around
inside her mixing with that fatal elixir she understood as doubt; doubt that fed on the fear of
losing something special and rare. She felt dizzy and gripped the front of Michael’s shirt for
support. As if mistaking her weakness for ardor, his hold around her tightened, and his lips
urgently searched her face, covering her mouth with a firmness she hadn’t felt before.
Karen kissed him back. Whatever was going on with Michael, she wanted to be a part of it.
He and Jennifer were both already a part of her. He moved an arm to stroke the back of her
head, and she used her freed hand to tickle his side. He released her, laughing.
“Not quite so much passion before somebody’s bedtime, okay? She could walk in on us, you
know,” Karen said.
“I know. It’s just so easy to get carried away with you.” The look in Michael’s eyes was tender.
“And speaking of her bedtime, we’re about there, so I’ll go tell her it’s time. Then we’ll talk.”
His face took on a somber edge again as he turned and left the room. Michael joined Jennifer
in the den, while Karen finished up in the kitchen, wiping off the counters and sink, her mind
reeling. For the first time since she’d met Michael, she felt nervous. Something was going on,
something that had him scared…as if he thought she might not stick with him. Karen lowered
her head and squeezed her eyes. No please, no. Not this time. Not with this one. She heard a
noise behind her and turned to see Jennifer standing in the doorway.
“Daddy says I need to say good-night,” Jennifer announced.
“Well, come on, let’s have a hug.”
Even Jennifer looked grim. What was going on here? Jennifer rushed over and buried her
face in Karen’s skirt and hugged her hard.
“You’re the best teacher I ever had,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure you say that to all your best teachers,” Karen teased.
“No,” Jennifer said, without elaborating.
“Okay, honey. Are you alright?” Jennifer nodded into Karen’s skirt, her face hidden. “Well, if
something is wrong, you can talk to me. Whenever you want. You know that, don’t you,
sweetie?” Jennifer nodded again, and Karen sighed. “Okay. Whatever it is Jen, don’t worry, it’
ll work out. Things always seem to work out. You just have to be patient. You know what they
say, don’t you?” Jennifer released her hold on Karen and looked up at her with puffy eyes.
Had she been crying?
“What do they say?”
“Good things come to those who wait. Did you know that?”
Jennifer watched her a moment, then blinked and smiled. “That’s what I’ll do, then. I’ll wait for
you,” she said, sounding more cheerful.
“But you don’t have to wait for me. I’m right here.” Karen felt confused. Was Jennifer trying to
tell her something?
“I know,” Jennifer said, and hugged her again.
Karen knew better than to press her into talking. She wasn’t ready. In time, Jen would tell—
children nearly always did if you didn’t force it. A more relieved looking little girl finally left for
bed, and Karen made her way into the den to wait for Michael, who had gone upstairs with
Jennifer. She turned on the CD player and settled on the couch, laying her head back as soft
jazz filled the room. Fifteen minutes later, she heard Jennifer’s bedroom door shut and
Michael’s long legged gait as he made his way down the stairs and into the den. He slid up
next to her on the cushion.
“Now, where were we?” he asked, lifting his finger to stroke her cheek.
“Well, I kind of hate to remind you, but weren’t we going to talk about something?” Karen drew
her head up from the couch.
He picked up her hand in both of his. “Yes, we are.” He searched her eyes. “Karen, you must
know how I feel about you. I know we haven’t said it, but this is the real thing for me.”
“Me too, Michael.”
He placed his finger over her lips. “Just listen, or I’ll lose my nerve.” It didn’t look like he was
kidding. “What I’m trying to say, among other things, is that I love you. We haven’t even made
love yet, and I’m sure of it. We’ve known each other for six months; we’ve spent a lot of time
together, and I feel as sure about this as I’ve ever felt about anything.”
Was that it? Was he just nervous about expressing his love? Sweet. Karen felt her heart lift
into a cloud of bliss. He was expressing her own heart’s desire and wanted to tell him so, but
his finger gently returned to her lips.
“I thought there was plenty of time for us,” he said. “but…the thing is, everything has changed. I
mean, it’s going to change very soon, and I need for you to listen...you may need to remember
this very hard.” Karen gulped. Wasn’t this a little ominous to be following a declaration of
love? Michael looked deep into her eyes and continued. “You…we…are going to be
challenged by outside influences, and you will hear things that are going to shock you. Things
about me that aren’t true.” Michael’s voice grew softer. “I love you, and I’m confident about
that. I want you to feel confident about me, too. Are you?”
Karen realized she had opened her mouth, and she shut it, trying to concentrate through
rapidly mounting fear. “Yes, Michael. I am.”
After all, wasn’t he the guy who had lavished her with attention these past months, without
asking for anything in return? All the advancements in their relationship had been initiated or
invited by her. He had allowed her to set the terms, according to her comfort level. There was
no pushing or rushing, ever. They had spent more time talking about life and ideas and
children and art, or whatever they fancied.
“And I love you, too,” she added, placing her hand on his. “I’ve known it for a while. But what, I
mean…”
Michael kissed her hand. “Well, this is the hard part. I can’t tell you. I can’t risk putting you in
that position. Yet I need for you to remember us, as we are now, and to trust me.”
“Oh, Michael, tell me. Please. Don’t you trust me?”
“Oh, I do. It’s not that. It just wouldn’t help either of us for me to tell you now. That time will
come, but I’m going to need to work things out first…that’s all.” He cupped her chin. “Do you
think you can trust me through whatever may happen? And will you promise to remember me,
as you know me now?”
Karen stared into his eyes. Everything inside them was soft and easy to read. “Yes,” she said.
“How could I forget who you are? And I do trust you. I don’t know why you need to ask for it, but
I’m sure you have your reasons. I’ll stand by you, but as soon as you can, you’re going to let
me know what this is about, right?” Michael nodded. “Well, then Michael…” She spread her
hands, palms up. “…I remain all yours.”
It was a leap of faith, but did she have a choice? She was in love, and it was too late to back
out of that. She could only hope that this mystery would not be a complicated one. Michael
was watching her, carefully.
“Karen,” he whispered and leaned over until his cheek was pressed against hers.
The scent of him surrounded her, musky and sweet. She inhaled, and placed her hand on the
back of his neck, fondling the hairs at his nape. He was facing something difficult, painful
even, but she didn’t want him to think about it now. If he couldn’t tell her, then she wanted to
soothe him and make it stop hurting. His lips slid over her cheek, and she turned her head to
meet them. He kissed her lightly, drew back, and then kissed her again.
Karen felt her heart flutter. A pulsing emanated in the depth between her hips in gentle waves.
She arched her back slightly and pressed her chest into his. His hands on her back migrated
apart, one moving to her neck and the other to the small of her back. Their smooth
movements excited her. He was kissing her more deeply, though his touch was still tender.
Karen felt her breathing change.
Michael slipped his hand under the collar of her blouse and rubbed her shoulder. She leaned
back, allowing him to extend his reach until his hand was above her breast. She then reached
around her back and undid her bra.
“Michael,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
Michael paused and kissed her again. Then he moved his hands away and looked into her
eyes, smiling tenderly. He had stopped. Why?
“Karen, my love. My beautiful love,” he said. “There is nothing…nothing that I’d like better than
to take you into my arms. I want to hold you and make love to you all night.”
“But?”
“But it wouldn’t be fair to you, not yet.”
“Oh, Michael, if that’s it—then trust me.” Karen nudged closer to him. “Let me be the judge of
that, okay?”
“Very soon you’ll know for sure. A little longer.” Michael pulled her head onto his chest and
kissed the top of it, as he wrapped his arms around her. “You are my love, my only love.” That
did it. Karen’s resistance evaporated. She sighed and relaxed into his embrace.
“And you are mine, Michael.”
Chapter Three
Karen returned home and fell into a deep sleep moments after her head hit the pillow,
confident that she had found the one man in a million for her. By mid-morning the next day,
however, it was beginning to feel like a distant memory. Jennifer did not show up at school.
Karen caught herself glancing repeatedly at her empty desk during first period, surprised that
Michael had not alerted her with a phone call.
She called the house on her cell during the first break, but the answering service picked up.
She left a message asking him to call her as soon as possible. It was very unusual for him not
to be there since he worked out of his home office. Mary Latham, her friend who taught
second grade in the classroom next to hers, suggested that maybe he had taken Jennifer to
the doctor. A possibility, Karen thought, and felt a little better, though an unsettled feeling was
gnawing at her gut.
She called him during her lunch break and got the answering service again. She left another
message sounding more urgent. She hoped she wasn’t sending alarm signals to him, but
something wasn’t adding up, and her uneasiness compelled her.
Craving reassurance, she went looking for Mary and found her in the teacher’s lunchroom
sitting alone and chewing on a large sandwich. Mary loved to eat, and Karen guessed she
was tipping the scales at around 200 pounds. Still, she was easy to look at with creamy skin
and attractive features framed by a crop of short and shiny brown hair. Karen grabbed the
seat next to her, and opened a bottle of water, taking a long slug.
“Great lunch,” Mary said, eyeing the bottle.
“I can’t eat,” Karen said flatly.
“Still no answer?”
Karen nodded. “It’s not like him. Something’s going on.”
“Well sweetheart, don’t jump off the Coronado Bridge just yet. Everyone does things out of
the ordinary occasionally. The odds are that he’s just taking care of business and he’ll call you
tonight, if not sooner.”
Karen bit her lip. “There’s nothing I’d like to believe more than that, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, last night, he told me some things,” Karen began.
But he hadn’t really told her anything, and she didn’t feel comfortable divulging what little she
did know. Something bad was supposed to happen and she had been asked to blindly trust
him through it, whatever it was. Was that the pact between them? It sounded so dark.
“It’s just that I don’t know what’s going on, that’s all.” That was more the truth.
“He’s not in some kind of trouble, is he?”
“No, no.” Karen waved her hand. That was murky stuff and she had no defenses for it, so she
wasn’t going there. “You’re probably right; he’ll call soon.”
“I’m sure he will, Karen,” Mary said, and patted her hand.
By the end of the school day, he still had not called back. After ushering the children out the
door, Karen made some hurried adjustments in her lesson plans, packed up some bundles of
papers to correct at home later and left for the Browning’s house. A few blocks later, she
eased her Corolla down the long driveway and parked in front of the garage door, which had
been left open. Michael’s Land Rover was gone.
As Karen approached the front door, she fought to keep her panic at bay. He had probably
made an emergency business trip or something, and would explain it all later, when he got
back. It was sure to be something simple like that. She knocked, waited, and then rang the
doorbell. When no one came, she slid her key into the front door lock and pushed it open.
Aside from one of Jennifer’s puzzles spilled on the staircase to her left, everything seemed
normal. She stepped cautiously inside.
“Michael?”
Her voice echoed through the house. She walked around the downstairs, into the kitchen and
the den, the living room, and finally Michael’s office. It was there that her heart almost
stopped. The drawers in his desk, his shelves, and his filing cabinet: all had been emptied.
Even his computer was gone.
Karen stood for a long time, staring. Obviously, this had something to do with their talk last
night, but what did it mean? Why would he leave without her? Wasn’t that whole conversation
about sticking it out together?
She edged her way upstairs, convinced that she would not find clothes in either of their
bedrooms. Many of Jennifer’s toys and books were gone, too. Only her completed homework
assignment sat on her desk. Numbed and shaking, Karen picked it up and made her way
back to her car. Somehow, she drove herself home.
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