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She patted him on the back and turned to leave. "Well, Mad Dog, Merry Christmas.
Id best get back to work. "
Mad Dog barely heard her good-bye. He stared into the mirror behind the bar, seeing his shaggy, unkempt appearance, and wondered what Jake and Mariah were doing right now. He could imagine the house, decorated with ornaments and evergreen, smelling of turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie. He could hear their laughter and the quiet rustling of paper as they opened their gifts.
He stared accusingly at his reflection. What the hell ore you doing here, alone, drinking, and dirty? You have a place to go. You have a home. . . .
He took a burning gulp of tequila, right from the bottle. "Holy shit. " He backhanded the moisture from his mouth. What was he thinking?
He couldnt go back.
Jake would want you to come back.
He tried not to be romanced by the notion. But once hed thought about Jake, he felt himself being reeled in. He could be a father, for Christs sake. A father.
Hed missed so much of his sons life already, but he didnt have to miss it all. He could be there to watch Jake grow to manhood, be there to watch him fall in love and have children of his own.
"Jesus . . . " He sighed and shook his head, surprised at how compelling those words were, how goddamn appealing.
But there was Mariah to think about. He loved her, loved her as hed never loved any other woman. He knew that; hed known it when he left her. He thought hed forget, thought those feelings would fade into the fabric of his footloose life and be forgotten, but that hadnt happened. Instead, he remembered. Every moment of every day, he remembered. When he touched something soft, he thought of her skin; when he touched something rough, he thought of the overlaundered linsey-woolsey she always wore. When he smelled vanilla or lavender or plain old soap, he thought of her. When he looked into green eyes, he remembered brown.
Not brown.
He smiled at the memory and wondered how in the hell hed been able to leave her.
How had he been so stupid, so incredibly blind?
But he knew the answer. It was the same one that kept him from turning away from the bar and heading back to Lonesome Creek right now. She loved him, he was sure of that, and shed forgive him if he returned. But could he stay?
That was the killer, the question that kept his butt planted on the barstool. Hed never made an honest commitment in his life. Not one. And this one was for keeps.
If he went back, he could never leave again.
"Shit," he cursed, reaching for the bottle and drawing it toward him. He couldnt imagine such a thing. Couldnt imagine getting a job, living on the farm behind that idiotic picket fence, knowing every day where hed go to bed and where hed wake up.
With Mariah.
He groaned at the thought and took another dribbling drink, then slammed the bottle down on the bar.
If he went back, he could never leave again.
Shit.
Chapter Twenty-six.
Marian stared at the box in her lap. Tears stung her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, splashing on the pale ivory of her drawers. She eased the lid back from the box and set it beside her, then peeled back the protective layer of wrinkled white linen.
The gown lay just as she had left it exactly a year ago, folded in perfect lines, the high lace collar star-tlingly white against the rich burgundy velvet of the bodice. She reached out, brushed the delicate lace with her fingertip. It felt frothy and light and feminine; so unlike everything shed worn for the past fifteen years. A row of round, mother-of-pearl buttons marched down from the throat to the waist and disappeared into a pleated white satin belt.
Sadness filled her, but it was bittersweet, with a tang of remembered happiness.
This had been the last Christmas gift shed ever given her mother. She remembered choosing it with care, poring over dozens and dozens of catalog pages until she found exactly the right one. A gown with heart.
She pulled the dress gently from its box. The burgundy velvet caught the light and shimmered like a glass of rich wine, spilling in soft waves across her lap.
She shoved the box aside and stood up. Holding the gown up to her, she studied her reflection in the mirror and smiled. The rich burgundy hue contrasted with the milky paleness of her cheeks and set off her brown eyes.
Not brown.
