Prescription: Marry Her Immediately (17 page)

Amy sat on the couch and watched Quent help his nephew open the large set of Lego pieces. “You can play with it after breakfast,” she said. “Don’t forget, we’re keeping them in my room so Tara won’t eat them.”

“Okay!” Getting into the spirit of the day, Greg turned to his sister. “Do you want me to help you open your present?”

“Open!” she said. The top package revealed a set of rubber bath duckies. Still hanging on to the bow, Tara gathered them to her. “Bath!”

“We’ll do that later, honey,” Amy said. “Quent, you’re next.”

“Nope.” Sitting on the floor, he wrapped his arms around his knees. “You start.”

Although she was dying
of curiosity, she said, “I thought the pattern was boy-girl-boy-girl.”

“Fooled you,” he said. “It’s older child, then younger child, then older adult, younger adult.”

“I have to go start the coffee.” In the excitement, she’d forgotten. “Go ahead.” Hurrying out of the room, Amy smiled to herself. If Quent figured himself to be the boss of this household, he had another think coming.

By the time she returned, he’d given in to temptation and was smoothing out a sweatshirt and sweatpants with the name of his favorite baseball team on them. “All right! Go team!”

“Go! Team!” echoed Tara.

“Your turn, Mommy,” said Greg.

The name sent a happy shiver through Amy. “What can this be?” She hefted the top package, which felt as if it might contain clothing.

“Open it!” Greg said.

Inside, Amy found a hand-painted silk nightgown and peignoir. “This is gorgeous.” The colors suited her perfectly, and she knew how sensual it would feel next to her skin. “Thank you, Santa!”

“Why are you looking at Daddy?” Greg didn’t seem to notice that he’d applied the name to his uncle. She saw a flare of recognition on Quent’s face, however.

“Because he put in a good word for me,” she said. “Somebody had to let Santa know that I haven’t been naughty this year.”

“Not nearly naughty enough,” Quent murmured. Fortunately, Greg was too busy opening his next gift to pay any attention.

He cheered when he saw that it contained a prereading computer game with his favorite cartoon characters. Tara liked her next present, a teddy bear, so much that she dropped the bow to hug it. For Quent, there was a new hardcover novel by his favorite science-fiction author, which he tucked away to read later.

Curious, Amy lifted her
second box, which weighed even less than the first. “I can’t imagine how Santa found anything so light,” she said. “He must have been worried about the weight limit on his sleigh.”

“Quit trying to second-guess Saint Nick and open it,” said her husband.

Lying on a nest of tissue paper, Amy found a generous gift certificate to her favorite shoe store. “This is great!” With a twinkle, she added, “Santa must have heard that a certain person forgot to pack my shoes.”

Greg snatched up his third gift. “My turn!” After tearing off the wrappings, he found a collection of sand toys that Lucy had sent. “Can we go to the beach?”

“We’ll go Saturday, if the weather’s good,” Amy said. Although the water would be too cold for swimming, the beach should be pleasant if the sun came out.

“I’ll help you build a castle,” Quent promised.

Inside her package, Tara was thrilled to find sand toys of her own. For himself, Quent unwrapped an umbrella and coordinated hat. “I see somebody noticed I don’t own much rain gear.”

“Mommy has an umbrella,” Greg pointed out.

“Yes, but it won’t cover all four of us,” Amy said. “I’m sorry I—I mean, Santa—didn’t come up with anything more clever. He had short notice.”

“That’s okay. Your last present is kind of small.” Quent indicated the box, which was every bit as large as the other two.

“Mostly tissue paper?” Amy guessed.

“Something like that. Santa ran out of time.” To Greg, he explained, “The elves leave the grown-ups for last.”

“Let’s see what’s
inside!” Greg said.

Amy discovered that she didn’t want to open it. Not right away. She’d purposely given Quent impersonal presents, because anything more intimate might make him uncomfortable. He’d been more imaginative with his choices, such as the nightgown set, but Amy wanted more, so much more. She ached for her husband to love her the way she loved him. She wanted him to show that this marriage of convenience had a chance of becoming a real union of two souls.

There was no way his last gift could accomplish that. If she opened the package now, the disappointment would show on her face. Her fervent attempts to maintain the fiction that everything was fine would be ruined, along with the rest of the day.

“You know what?” she said. “I’m starving. I’ll bet you guys are, too. Let’s eat and I’ll save this for later when we’re not so rushed.”

“You promised pancakes.” Needing no urging, Greg started for the kitchen.

“Then pancakes it shall be.”

“Cakes!” echoed Tara.

Quent’s jaw twitched as if he meant to object. When the little girl scampered in her brother’s wake, however, he shrugged. “Maybe it is a good idea to wait until later.”

“Great.”

Soon the pancakes were sizzling on the electric grill while Quent poured orange juice. Tara, who no longer spilled much, took pride in drinking out of her sipper cup.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was fun helping the children play with their new toys, and there were phone calls to make to the grandparents and Lucy. Amy managed to delay opening her last gift.

She hoped that, once
the children lay down for their naps, she and Quent could snatch some time alone. She didn’t torment herself with the vain hope that anything had changed. She simply wanted to be with him, even if they were playing a video game or reading books side by side.

Although the unopened present teased at her mind, she was still feeling vulnerable. Better to wait until it didn’t seem like a big deal.

After lunch, Amy put Tara to bed and read to Greg. He dozed off halfway through the book.

The condo had fallen silent by the time Amy came out to look for Quent. She found him in the office, fully dressed and sound asleep on his folded-out couch.

He’d worked late last night. No wonder he was tired, Amy told herself, trying to ignore her letdown. This was a great Christmas. The best ever. She didn’t want to mar it by wishing for things she couldn’t have.

In the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee and set out a leftover muffin from lunch. As she finished the snack, it struck her that it might be wise to open her third present alone. That way, when it turned out to be another gift certificate or a joke item, she could prepare a credible expression of pleasure before her husband awoke. Pleased at the idea, she carried her cup and plate to the sink.

In the living room, toys spilled across the floor. Quent’s new jogging outfit lay draped over the back of the couch alongside Amy’s peignoir. How much this room had changed in the six weeks since she’d invited him back after their jog, she thought, and not merely because of the storm repairs, either.

Before, everything had been
orderly and under control. And lonely, although she hadn’t admitted it to herself. Now it vibrated with messy, energetic life.

Smiling, Amy sat down on the sofa. She was finally in the mood to open her last gift.

As Amy had suspected,
most of the contents were tissue paper. What she didn’t expect was the long jeweler’s box ensconced in the center.

Her heartbeat speeded. Almost afraid to open it, she rubbed her fingers over the velvety surface.
Please don’t let this be Quent’s idea of a joke.
Scarcely daring to breathe, she pried the edges apart.

A curve of diamonds sparkled at her. Amy drew in a sharp breath. She remembered trying not to stare at the necklace when she and Quent visited the jewelry store. What she loved most was that the delicate design matched the one on her wedding ring.

As she picked it up, the diamonds blazed with brilliant clarity. When and why had Quent purchased it? Surely he hadn’t secretly bought the necklace before their wedding and saved it until Christmas, she thought. Only a man deeply in love would do that.

As she fastened it around her neck, Amy spotted a card tucked inside the jeweler’s box. Her fingers suddenly clumsy, she fumbled twice before managing to extract it.

As she read silently, a masculine voice from the hallway spoke the words aloud. Quent seemed to be inside her head as he voiced what he’d written in the note. “I love you and I’m glad we’re married.”

Amy couldn’t move.
This had to be a fantasy. She didn’t want to turn around and break the spell.

“I hope you like it.” Quent crossed toward her. “If not, we can exchange it for something else.”

Amy’s fingers tightened on the card. “How—why—?”

“Can you forgive me for being such an oaf?” A woman could get lost in those sea-blue eyes, so close to hers, she reflected as he sat beside her. “It took me a long time to understand why I held back. I was afraid, Amy.”

She could hardly swallow. “Of what?”

“In one night, I lost three people I loved. I became a doctor so I could save people, and then I was utterly powerless to help them.” She’d never seen such vulnerability on Quent’s face. “Twice, you were nearly injured, right in my arms. I could lose you, too.”

“Life doesn’t offer insurance policies. We have to take our chances.” Amy curved her palm around his cheek and felt the suppleness beneath the morning stubble.

“What I felt wasn’t logical.” He lowered his hand onto hers. “I didn’t even know what was going on inside me. The way I grew up, we never talked about our troubles. We avoided them and hoped they’d go away.”

Although Amy wanted to grab the man and kiss him senseless, she needed answers first. “What changed your mind?”

“Last night, I heard you talking to Greg and realized how much harm I was doing by keeping you at arm’s length.” Quent’s gaze seared into hers. “Then at the hospital, the memories of losing my family hit me like a slug in the jaw. That’s when I saw that I’d been afraid to love because life is so fragile. But you know what? I can’t help it. I fell in love with you anyway.”

“I love you no matter what
lies ahead,” Amy said. “I’ll take whatever time we’re given, and treasure every second of it.”

A smile started at one corner of his mouth and spread until his whole face glowed. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for acting like a jerk?”

“On one condition,” Amy said.

“What’s that?”

“You repeat the part where you say you love me.”

Strong arms pulled her onto Quent’s lap and he buried his face in her hair. “I love you, I will always love you, and I’d marry you again a thousand times if I got the chance.”

“You’re not still angry because I didn’t tell you the truth about being a virgin?”

“Hey, I’m the master at avoiding important issues,” he said. “How can I blame you for doing the same?”

“Kiss me, you big lug, and make me forget everything except…” His mouth came down on hers, cutting off the words. Time stood still, and it would have suited Amy fine if it never moved again.

When he came up for air, Quent said, “Any more questions?”

“No. I mean, yes.”

“Fire away.”

“How did you get the necklace?”

He chuckled. “You can thank Mrs. McLanahan for that. Right after my big revelation, while I was walking her to her car, I wished out loud that it wasn’t too late to buy this for you.”

“So she waved her fairy
godmother wand and it appeared in the parking garage?” Amy teased.

“The jeweler is her friend, remember?” he said. “She persuaded the poor guy to come down to his store in the middle of the night and sell me the necklace.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Amy couldn’t believe anyone was that good-hearted.

“Apparently he’s a lonely widower who was sitting up watching a rerun of
It’s a Wonderful Life.
I believe an invitation to brunch today also featured into the bargain.” Quent shook his head in amazement. “We owe that woman a great deal.”

“She’s a sweetheart. I hope she enjoys her brunch,” Amy said.

“So do I.” To her surprise, he struggled to his feet while still holding her. Amazingly, he only staggered a little. “Time to carry my bride across the threshold.”

“We already did that.”

“Hotel rooms don’t count,” Quent said.

“You’re not going outside in your bathrobe!” She giggled at the thought.

“I had a different threshold in mind,” said her husband.

She understood perfectly a minute later when they crossed into Amy’s bedroom and closed the door behind them.

T
HE
J
ANUARY SKY
darkened early over the ocean. On the beach, coals glowed in the barbecue pits and the scent of roasting chickens drifted through the salty air.

“Time to wash up,” Amy told the children, although the best she would be able to do with premoistened towels was to scrub their faces and hands. Sand clung to their feet and legs, drifted through the folds of their clothing and even, she suspected, infiltrated their hair. “Oh, dear. I’m barely going to make a dent.”

“What’s a beach party
without sand in the food?” asked Natalie, setting out picnic supplies by the light of a hurricane lamp.

“Let’s see how long your laissez-faire attitude holds up once you give birth.” Heather removed containers of potato salad and coleslaw from a cooler, although the night air was growing so nippy that the food hadn’t needed chilling.

After glancing around to make sure none of their other friends could overhear, Amy said, “You’re not too old to give birth again yourself, you know.”

“Don’t mention it! It’s a jinx!” Heather cried in mock horror. “I’d need a husband, which I assure you I don’t remotely want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Amy said.

In the fading light, she had trouble checking the children’s faces and hands for stubborn dirt. “Quent!” she called. “If you want them operating-room clean, you’re going to have to finish the job yourself.”

Her husband waved from beside the barbecue, where he, Patrick and Rob were moving chicken and steaks onto platters. He cupped his hand to his ear to indicate he’d missed most of what she said, no doubt thanks to the rumble of the surf. Amy waved to indicate it didn’t matter.

“Clueless,” Heather said. “Like most guys. Of course, he’s cute, which makes up for a lot.”

“Your tongue is sharp tonight.” Amy released the children, who scampered across the beach to their father. “What gives?”

“My daughter tells me her fiancé’s returning from overseas duty in March,” Heather said. “She and Ginger will move out as soon as he finds a place. No mention of wedding bells yet, but I hope that will follow.”

“And you’re going
to miss them,” Natalie finished for her. “So you’re making grouchy comments about Quent on his birthday.”

“His
thirtieth
birthday,” Amy added, “which is traumatic enough, as I recall from my own experience.”

“Piffle.” Mrs. McLanahan joined them. Her date, Hugo, the distinguished-looking but shy jeweler, hung back to watch a boat passing out to sea. “Turning thirty isn’t traumatic. Turning seventy, that’s another story.”

“I’ll bet the ninety-year-olds aren’t impressed,” joked Heather.

“Nor should they be.” Noreen patted Amy’s hand. “You know, the years don’t matter if you’re following your dreams. I assure you, your husband will never wish he had his twenties back. He’s much better off now.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Amy beamed at the woman. “It looks like you’ve got a romance of your own.”

“Hugo’s a sweetheart,” said her friend. “We’ll see where it leads. One thing I’ve learned is to live in the moment and let the future take care of itself.”

“Good advice.” Natalie put the heel of her hand to her extended abdomen. “Wow! That was quite a kick.”

“Let me know if you change your mind about learning the sex,” Heather said.

“We prefer to find out the old-fashioned way,” Natalie told her. “Here comes the main course!”

The men arrived bearing platters. Quent, who seemed to possess infinite patience with the children, sank onto a blanket with Tara in his lap and started shredding a piece of chicken for her. Amy helped Greg pile his plate. She was beginning to know his preferences by heart.

The small group of friends
settled around them on folding chairs. Noreen and her new boyfriend. Natalie and Patrick. Heather, Rob, Kitty and Aunt Mary.

It had been Amy’s idea to hold a birthday party for Quent on the sand and, although the weather was iffy this time of year, everyone had liked the idea. Fortunately, they’d had a mild day, although she’d put jackets on the children as evening came.

Despite the crisp air, she felt surrounded by warmth. No need to ask why. All she had to do was glance at Quent.

Since Christmas Day, they’d drawn closer, sharing their thoughts, laughing together, resolving their differences with a loving spirit. It was going to be wonderful, she thought, to spend the rest of her life with a friend who was also her true love.

A boom! from offshore nearly sent her flying out of her seat. “What was that?”

“Look, Mommy!” Greg pointed at the darkness above the ocean. “Sky flowers.”

A fountain of white sparks pierced the deep blue expanse. An instant later, a series of bangs heralded an explosion of reds and blues.

“Fireworks!” she said. “Look, Greg, aren’t we lucky?”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Hoisting Tara onto his hip, Quent moved closer.

“You arranged this?” she asked in disbelief, as colors splashed the sky. “What an enormous undertaking!”

“I’ve always wanted fireworks on my birthday,” he said. “Besides, this is the one-month anniversary of our wedding. These are for you, too.”

“Thank you! I love it.”

Their friends chorused
their appreciation. “My baby’s really jumping now.” Natalie patted her bulge. “He or she can hear the whole thing.”

Greg climbed onto Amy’s lap, and Quent took the chair beside her, holding their daughter. The children stared upward, too enchanted to speak. As a palette of light blossomed above them, Amy felt as if she were floating among stars.

Close to her ear, Quent said, “It’s only a token, Amy. This is nothing compared to the enchantment you bring to my life.”

He slipped one arm around her. Safely enfolded in her husband’s love, Amy rested her head on his shoulder and watched the fireworks paint the sky with magic.