Morgan's Wife (40 page)

"I'll forgive you, too."

Chuckling,
Griff
said, "Looks like you have your own tiger by her tail."

Jim stared at him blankly.

Griff
motioned lazily toward the kitchen. "Pepper is like Dana and Maggie—ahead of her time, a trailblazer."

"I see…yes, she is."

"How are you rolling with it all?"
Griff
asked curiously as he sized Jim up.

"It's new to me," Jim admitted. "Sometimes I fall into some pretty pedestrian traps regarding stereotypes."

Wes chuckled indulgently. "Tell me about it. Maggie has changed my language from ‘man' or ‘woman' to ‘
person,'
and I had to learn very quickly that being a man doesn't give you special privileges."

"At all,"
Turcotte
agreed, chuckling.

"I don't think we deserve special privileges," Jim said. "Pepper has taught me a lot lately about the way women have been held down or kept in what's considered their ‘place.'"

Wes Bishop sighed and raised his cup of chocolate. "To our ladies, who have and continue to make us better human beings, gentlemen."

Jim had no problem with that toast and
clinked
the side of his cup against the others'. As he sipped the chocolate, he enjoyed watching the women in the kitchen. They had such
a camaraderie
—a closeness men simply didn't seem to foster. He liked the way the women reached out, touching one another on the shoulder or arm, or came over and slipped an arm around each other's waist in a hug before continuing on with their kitchen duties. He was struck by how thoroughly the women worked as a team. They didn't fit into the boss-and-underlings structure that men seemed to insist on.

What was most striking to Jim was the way that, although Pepper had just met Maggie and Dana, she was immediately absorbed into their group. He decided there was a lot to be learned from women. Their ability to become warmly personal and freely show feelings left him wanting to be more open with his own gender.

As he stood chatting amiably with the other men, Jim realized that Maggie, Dana and Molly had already rubbed off on their husbands. These three pilots seemed noticeably more open and personable than the men Jim knew. Even more surprising was the way that Wes or
Griff
would every once in a while reach out and touch each other's shoulder or arm to emphasize something they were saying.

Jim smiled to himself, liking the discovery and seeing how these self-assured women had influenced the men they loved. Most of all, he was struck by the fact that all three men possessed the ability to be flexible and to compromise—certainly the main component to the longevity of any marriage today. These men weren't lapdogs, nor were they battered males with no egos.
Just the opposite.
These were highly competent men, with a confidence and assurance that came from within. It wasn't a show, Jim sensed, but a depth of strength they had about their own masculinity that enabled them not only to support the strengths of their wives, but to push them to become all that they could be.

Finishing his cup of hot chocolate, Jim wandered into the kitchen. Pepper was in the middle of the women, her mother at her side, as she finished stuffing the huge turkey. Luckily, the kitchen was large, in keeping with the old-time kitchens of a bygone era. Jim moved to the end of the counter that wasn't being used.

Maggie Donovan-Bishop had spare, lean hands like Pepper's. She worked alongside Molly who was telling her how to make her grandmother's special recipe for Jell-O salad. Dana
Turcotte
stood a little to the side peeling the potatoes that would soon be mashed into a frothy white mound. Pepper and her mother exchanged warm looks, smiles hovering around their mouths. Yes, this was a happy group, indeed.

Pouring himself a third cup of hot chocolate, Jim left the kitchen and headed back to where the men were standing. His heart was with Pepper. What would she do when she opened his gift after dinner? The
Sinclairs
opened their gifts on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning, Pepper had explained, because she and
Cam
, when they were very young, had been unable to sleep Christmas Eve out of excitement. So Mary Sinclair had decided they could open presents Christmas Eve, instead, to keep the holiday peaceful.

Jim tried to hone in on the men's conversation, but his mind and heart were elsewhere. What if Pepper took his gift the wrong way? He knew she wanted to tell him she loved him. Hell, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch and hear it in the tone of her wonderfully husky voice. But what if his gift backfired? It could create a destructive split in their new relationship. Should he take the gift back? Hold it until later? His mind and heart seesawed over the possibilities. Finally, exhausted emotionally from the indecision, Jim decided to fly with his original plan. His spontaneity thus far had gotten him Pepper. He had to trust his own sense of creativity and honor his intuition to get him and Pepper to where he so much wanted them to end up—together. Soon enough, he would know—one way or another. The thought scared the living hell out of him.

Jim sat in an overstuffed velour chair opposite the Christmas tree. Everyone was opening gifts, and the room rang with the sounds of paper being ripped off, children squealing with delight and adults making more-subtle sounds of pleasure as they viewed their gifts for the first time. Pepper sat at Jim's feet, her long legs tucked demurely beneath her skirt, a number of already opened boxes beside her. But Jim was having trouble enjoying the happy scene. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth felt dry. What would she think of
his
gift?

Pepper had opened gifts from her family—common-sense items such as a new pair of Levi's to replace her well-worn ones, sweaters to keep her warm during the harsh Montana winter and photos of her niece and nephew to put in her cabin. Jim saw her look back through the packages she'd opened,
a puzzlement
on her face. Cam and
Warren
had distributed all the gifts beneath the tree earlier, and everyone had piles of colorfully decorated boxes heaped nearby.

Pepper picked through the surrounding wrapping and ribbons, wondering if she'd overlooked a gift from Jim. She had bought him a Shetland wool sweater in bright red and yellow to remind him of his Marine Corps heritage, as well as a watch to replace the one that had been damaged during the mission. Now, moving the paper aside, the sounds of laughter and surprise still carrying through the large living room, Pepper felt a stab of panic as she riffled through everything once more just to make sure. Jim had gone somewhere two days ago—to Anaconda, he'd told her. He'd been gone all afternoon and hadn't arrived back at the cabin until late that night. Pepper hadn't asked why, figuring that if he wanted her to know, he would have told her. Plus there'd been a look in his eyes that had silently asked her not to question him.

She felt the touch of Jim's hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she met his grave green gaze.

"I think you were looking for this?" he said, his voice low and slightly strained.

Pepper's eyes widened as he placed a small box wrapped in gold foil and a silver bow in her hand. "Oh…"

Jim smiled unevenly, aware that some of the background noise had abated. He looked up to realize everyone was watching them expectantly. How could they know?
he
wondered, his mouth suddenly dry with nervousness. He squeezed Pepper's shoulder. "Go ahead, open it, sweetheart."

Pepper looked up to see everyone intently watching her. Silence abruptly reigned in the room, except for the soft crackle and snap of flames in the fireplace. She laughed a little nervously and set the small box in her lap. Molly, Maggie and Dana edged closer, grinning and elbowing each other, as if they knew a secret she did not. What had Jim bought for her? Stymied, Pepper grew impatient with the bow, finally pulling it off with strength rather than finesse.

Laughing nervously, she looked up at Jim. "I'm not very good at opening things."

He smiled back. "I know."

His words fell softly, warmly, across her. Pepper took a deep breath and ripped off the gold-foil wrapping. Inside a white satin box was another, smaller box of red velvet. Her heart plummeted as she hesitantly touched it. No, it couldn't be. Could it? She gave Jim a look of inquiry, and saw tenderness burning in his eyes.

Touched beyond words, Pepper lifted the box in her left hand and sprung the small, gold latch that raised the lid. A gasp escaped her. The other women quickly crowded around.

"
Ohh
," Maggie
whispered,
a wicked glint in her eyes as she looked first at Pepper, then at Jim. "He's serious…."

Dana touched Pepper's shoulder. "It's beautiful," she said in a choked voice.

Molly whispered, "Gosh, what a lovely Christmas gift for you, Pepper. How romantic…."

Pepper felt Jim's hand tighten on her shoulder, as if silently asking her what she thought of his gift. Tears blurred her vision momentarily, and she self-consciously wiped them from her eyes. In the box was an obviously antique wedding-ring set. She lightly touched them with her trembling fingers, not daring to believe they were really for her.

Jim leaned down, his voice a broken whisper. "Those were my grandmother's rings. She was very special to me, to our family. Before she died ten years ago, she asked me to take them, to give them to a woman I would love as much as she had loved my grandfather." As Pepper lifted her chin and looked at him, he felt a powerful wave of joy sweep through him. Her eyes sparkled with tears. Reaching out, he caressed her flaming cheek. The silence was complete around them. Everyone's gaze was pinned on them, on the emotional moment.

"I—they are beautiful, Jim. Beautiful…" Pepper whispered.

"There's no hurry," he rasped, sliding his hand along her cheek, smiling gently down at her. "It's not meant to rush you, or what we have. I just wanted something special for you, for Christmas. I love you, Mary Susan Sinclair." He leaned down, caressing her parted lips, which tasted of salt from her happy tears. Her lower lip trembled, and he kissed her deeply, wanting to impart to her just how fiercely he loved her.

The world swam out of view as Pepper surrendered to Jim's long, tender kiss. She clutched the ring box in her hands, stretching upward to meet his questing mouth, to touch him, his heart,
his
wonderful, thoughtful soul. As awareness that everyone was watching filtered in, embarrassment flooded her. Knowing how private a person Jim was, she realized how difficult it must have been for him to give her these rings in front of everyone, not knowing what her reaction might be. Easing her lips from his mouth, she smiled up into his anxious gaze, touched with his own tears.

"I love you, Jim Woodward," she quavered, sliding her hand upward to touch his clean-shaven cheek. "With my life…."

Much later Pepper sat staring down at the ring box, its lid open. Everyone had gone to bed, and it was past midnight. Jim sat with her on the couch closest to the fireplace, his arm around her shoulders. The house was filled now with a wonderful, peaceful silence. The satisfaction and contentment she felt in Jim's arms had no comparison, Pepper decided. She was dressed in her pink velour robe, her feet
bare
, though Jim still wore his clothes from the day. She lay back, resting her head on his broad shoulder, and closed her eyes.

"I never thought I could be so happy," she murmured.

"I didn't, either," Jim admitted quietly, looking down at her
firelit
profile. The house was dark, just the fire offering subtle warmth and light. The shadows dancing across Pepper's face underscored her strength and shouted of her vulnerability. His mouth pulled into a slight, tender smile as he saw her continue to caress the rings in the box. "So you like them?"

"Like them?" She roused herself and faced him, her knees drawn up against his thigh. "I love them." Reaching out, she touched his strong jaw. "And I love you, too."

He met and held her somber gaze. "I didn't expect that from you, you know."

"What?"

"You didn't have to say you loved me earlier this evening. I didn't really expect it, Pepper. I know how you felt about the past. About John and never falling in love again. I gave you the rings because I wanted to let you know the depth of my love for you—the commitment I wanted to work toward, hoping you would want the same thing someday."