Chapter Thirteen
Deeply asleep, Jo rolled onto her side, taking the blankets with her. It wasn’t the first time. Smiling, Dan tugged at the blankets until she rolled over with a murmured protest, settling against his chest like she belonged there.
It felt good. It felt right.
All his life Dan had resisted the passionate, lifelong kind of love because his parents made it look like hard labor. Maybe that’s why he’d been blind to Jo as more than a friend. Still, his bride needed some serious training in sharing a bed. He figured fifty years should do it.
Cupping his hand over her hair, Dan steeled himself to consider the implications of her cancer. He still couldn’t deal with the fact that she’d kept him out of her treatment, so he pushed it aside. Jo could still die. The thought didn’t evoke any kind of visceral reaction. Why?
Because I don’t believe it.
And it wasn’t just because she lay soft and warm in his arms and he felt more optimistic than he had for the first time in months. Whether the cancer returned or not, Jo was a fighter. And to his last breath, Dan would fight alongside her.
“Your heartbeat has sped up,” Jo said softly. “It woke me up.”
“Go to sleep.”
“What were you thinking about?”
She knew. He could tell by the way her body had tensed.
“That we’ve just given this memory foam mattress something to remember.”
He felt her smile against his heart. “I don’t think that’s how they work.”
“You’re right, it probably takes a few times to imprint.” She gave a cry of surprise as he flipped her off him and rolled on top. “Better get onto that….”
* * *
The phone ringing dragged Dan to consciousness. For a moment he blinked in the late-morning light. What the hell was he doing in bed so late? Then he remembered.
Over the sound of the phone, he could hear the shower running in the bathroom down the hall. Smiling, he rolled over the indent from her body to reach for the phone. “Isn’t life wonderful?” he greeted his caller.
“Dan…hi,” said his cousin’s widow.
Pulling up the sheet, Dan swung his feet to the floor. “Claire.” He cursed himself for his insensitivity. “I’ve been meaning to phone and check on you and Lewis.”
“Hey, I can just as easily phone you.” Except she never did. “Anyway, I’m RSVPing to your wedding invitation.”
“Look, I understand if you don’t want to come—”
“Don’t be silly, we wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her tone rang too bright. “Steve and I always thought you and Jo belonged together…but you guys could never see it.”
He scratched his head. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Because you both would have run a mile.”
Dan chuckled. “It’ll be good to see you,” he said gruffly.
“I’m looking forward to catching up with everyone.” She hesitated. “So who’s the best man, Ross or Nate?”
The familiar band of grief tightened around Dan’s chest. They both knew who it should have been. “Ross. Nate can’t make it home.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Dan understood Claire’s shock. A former foster kid, Nate had adopted his SAS brothers as his own. He was the one who organized social get-togethers and remembered birthdays. Hell, he even made them celebrate the anniversary of their first deployment as a troop. This year it had come and gone unmarked.
“I guess we just have to give him some time,” she said.
If time could really heal. Nate had been the last man standing, fighting alone to defend his wounded and dead comrades. Dan’s jaw ached; he unclenched his teeth. He had no right to suffer like this—not compared to Nate or Ross, not compared to Claire and Lewis or Lee’s bereaved family and fiancée, Julia.
“So I talked to Jules yesterday.” Claire seemed to read his mind. “She didn’t know about the wedding.”
“Until yesterday I wasn’t sure if Jo would have me.” He tried not to sound defensive. “Jules and Lee were supposed to be getting married last month…would she even want an invitation?”
“She’d want to be asked. Even if she doesn’t feel up to coming. And sometimes it can help being around other people who love and miss—” Her voice wobbled. “Hang on a second?”
Dan had been hungry when he’d woken up, ravenous after a night’s lovemaking. Now his stomach knotted. Claire had once been his roommate; he’d introduced her and Steve. Yet he had to fight the urge to hang up on her because there was nothing he could do to take her pain away. I should have been there.
“Sorry,” she said, coming back on the line. “False alarm. I thought someone was at the door.”
He didn’t challenge the lie. “Is Lewis okay? Mum said you’ve been having a few problems.”
“We’re working through it.”
“If there’s anything you need—”
“You’ll be the first person I call. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Give Jo my love and see you both soon.” The forced cheerfulness was in her voice. Dan knew with a sinking feeling that when she hung up she’d cry.
“Claire, wait…. Come a few days early. It’s duck-shooting season. I promised Lewis I’d take him out this year.” They’d both promised, he and Steve.
“He’d like that,” she said awkwardly. “Thanks, Dan.”
It’s the least I can do. He said goodbye, hung up and stared at the pile of clothes on the chair.
With a groan, he buried his face in his hands. “Dammit, I should have been there!”
He felt a touch on his bare shoulder. “Dan?”
Turning, he pulled Jo onto the bed, and kissed her like his life depended on it.
“Wow,” she said when they broke apart. She’d dressed in the jeans and sweater she’d worn yesterday, dark red hair, still damp from the shower, feathered her forehead. “If I didn’t have a date with Nan, I’d demand an encore.” Though she was smiling, she searched his face. “Are you okay? I heard—”
“That was Claire.” Dan rolled to his feet, then pulled Jo up. “She and Lewis can make the wedding.” Naked, he padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Jo followed. “What wedding?”
“Very funny. You. Me. Twelve days’ time…ring any wedding bells?” He adjusted the water temperature. “Ouch, maybe we should both lay off the morning jokes.”
Stepping into the shower, he lifted his face to the spray.
Jo reached in and turned off the water. “You said you’d cancel.”
Baffled, Dan reached for a towel, wiped his face dry, then draped it around his waist and got out. “Didn’t we clear this up last night? I love you, you love me. We’re back in business.”
“You talked me into a relationship, Dan, not marriage.”
He stared at her. “We agreed you wouldn’t shut me out again.”
“And I’m not. If I’m cancer-free in another two years, if my fertility’s unaffected and if you’re still in love with me—” she smiled at him “—then we’ll definitely talk about it.”
She turned on the shower again. Dan turned it off. “And if there’s a recurrence or your fertility has been compromised, then what? You’ll cut me loose?”
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said candidly. “I only know I love you too much to let you burn any bridges now.”
Her admission of love eased him. “Idiot.” On a wave of tenderness Dan lifted her into a bear hug, the wool of her sweater soft against his wet chest. “What kind of man would I be to wait until you can offer me some kind of guarantee?”
Her arms went around his neck in a mock stranglehold. “What kind of woman would I be if I dragged you along on the scariest part of the ride?”
He gave her a little shake. “Trust us…trust me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not a question of trust—”
“You love me but you’re not going to rely on me?” Dan put her down and folded his arms. “It sure as hell feels like a trust issue to me.”
Jo glared at him. “It’s plain common sense.”
“Postponing our lives out of lack of courage isn’t how either of us has lived and we’re not starting now. The wedding stands.”
Her jaw set. “Call me later—when you can talk sense about this.”
“Talking solves nothing, only action.” Calmly, he returned to the shower, turned it on. “We’re getting married.”
Jo said nothing, but shoved the dial to cold. “Temper, temper.” Reaching for the soap, Dan began washing.
“If you won’t protect yourself, I will.” Through the shower curtain he watched her leave, her exasperated flounce accentuating the swing of her hips.
The water was still cold. Slowly he turned it to hot, feeling the sting of it on his chilled skin. But the heat didn’t penetrate deeply.
He should have been there when she faced surgery and Nan’s health started failing.
And he wasn’t.
Dan had to get her to the altar because he couldn’t let that happen again.
* * *
Jo drove to Pinehill high on love and simultaneously itching to wring the object of her affection’s neck.
Dan was going to be stubborn about this. He’d had what she called his Terminator face on—calm but lethally focused. Last night she’d thought they’d reached an understanding. If she could return to the moment by her car, that fatal hesitation, then…
Honesty compelled her to admit she wouldn’t have done it any differently. It was damned inconvenient and the worst timing ever but she loved Dan and all she could do now was try to minimize the damage. Maybe she couldn’t safeguard her own future, but she could safeguard his.
Reaching for her cell, she rang Anton at the bar but he only repeated what he’d told her the first time she tried to cancel the reception. “My contract’s with Dan, Jo, not you. He said if it’s not a wedding, it’s a wake… Incidentally he rang a few minutes ago with a message.”
Of course Dan knew she’d do this. “What is it?”
“He loves you.”
Damn him, damn him, damn him. “Thanks, Anton.”
Next she phoned Father O’Malley, who’d known them both since childhood. He listened with characteristic sympathy. “Obviously I’ve made it very clear that I won’t perform the service if you’re unwilling but he said he’d take that risk. You know Dan.”
Oh, yes, she knew Dan.
“He left a message for you.”
“I know,” Jo said grimly. “He loves me.”
“No, keep dinner free. He wants to take you dancing…good at it, apparently.”
She hung up and tossed the cell onto the passenger seat. Why couldn’t Dan understand her need to protect him? Getting married required the kind of faith she’d lost when she’d woken up without a breast. When her odds of survival improved, when she’d got better at living with the possibility of recurrence, then they could discuss commitment.
At Pinehill, she found Nan in the dining room clearing breakfast plates to vociferous complaints from those residents still eating. “It’s past eight,” Rosemary protested. “We need to get crops planted to feed our brave boys.”
She was obviously reliving her WWII land girl years.
“Very true, Rosemary,” said the nurse. “But rest your arm first. You need to be fighting fit, too.”
“Yes, I’d better sit down a minute. Perhaps you’d like to take over.” She caught sight of Jo, who waited patiently while she shifted gears. “Jocelyn, you’re not a land girl.”
“No, love. I’m here to take you to the garden center.” Nan wasn’t the only resident bemoaning the lack of a vegetable garden, and yesterday Jo had offered to buy plants for a small strip of bare earth outside the kitchen window.
“I don’t know…” Nan was obviously torn. “I’m needed here.”
The nurse returning plates to the diners said amiably, “We’ll manage for an hour and you’ll find the best deals.”
“That’s true.” All business, Nan faced Jo. “Where’s my purse?” They went to Nan’s room and collected it, along with her coat. “Do you know,” she confided on the way to the car, “what the secret is to setting jam?”
“No, tell me.”
“Methylated spirit.” Nan chuckled.
“You’re kidding!”
“The pips are full of pectin. If you soak them overnight you can use the water next day as a setting agent.” Nan burbled on and Jo devoted herself to showing her grandmother a good time, buying twice the number of plants they needed once they reached the nursery.
An hour later, she’d settled Nan in the car and was loading plants into the trunk when a middle-aged blonde came out of the hairdressers’ opposite and hailed her. For a moment Jo didn’t recognize her.
“Pat?”
“Yes, it’s me.” Dan’s mother crossed the parking lot, flicking her platinum bob out of her eyes. “I’ve just had it colored.” She struck a pose. “What do you think?”
“Very chic,” Jo reassured her.
“I talked to Dan this morning, he mentioned you stayed over last night.”
Jo had a sudden vivid recollection of how they’d employed Pat’s old mirror and blushed. The older woman eyed the color in her cheeks. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about marrying him?”
“No, it’s too soon to be thinking about commitment.”
“I’m glad,” said Pat, then added hastily, “only because we can’t be sure whether grief is still influencing his actions.”
Jo remembered his anguish after Claire’s phone call—I should have been there—and the desperation in his kiss. Feeling sick, she looked at Pat. “Maybe it’s also influencing his feelings for me?”
“No.” Pat shook her head. “Dan is like his father, a one-woman man.” Jo couldn’t hide her relief or her surprise, and Pat smiled. “There are worse things than having you as a daughter-in-law.” She sounded wistful.
Jo finished loading the plants and closed the trunk. “I was sorry to hear about you and Herman.”
“Don’t be. Europe will be much more fun with a girlfriend.” Under the perfect makeup, Pat’s face was drawn and sad. “Maybe I’ll add New York and stay a couple months with my prodigal daughter.”
“What’s taking so long?” Nan called.
“Is that your grandmother? I must say hello.” Pat opened the passenger door. “Rosemary, long time no see.”
Nan smiled uncertainly.
“It’s me, Pat. You might not recognize me because I’ve had my hair dyed blond.”
“You mean you chose that color?”
Pat’s smile faded.
Jo moved in quickly for damage control. “You know Dan’s mother,” she prompted.
“Such a nice boy, Daniel,” exclaimed Nan. “I was always surprised how well he turned out considering his mother.”
Bewildered, Pat looked at Jo.
“Nan, this is—”
“I’ve always said that woman would much happier if she stopped blaming her husband for everything that’s wrong with her life—oh, are we at the garden center already?” Looking beyond a dumbstruck Pat, Nan started fidgeting with her seat belt. “Help me unbuckle this.”
Nudging Pat aside, Jo retrieved one of the plants and showed it to Nan. “We’ve already picked up some lovely vegetable seedlings, see? And now we’re leaving.” Rosemary took the plant and settled into her seat. “Well, get a wriggle on, they’ll need watering.”
Jo shut the car door and turned to Pat. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “She doesn’t realize what she’s saying most of the time.”
“Forget about it.” Pat tried to smile. On impulse Jo hugged her. She looked as though she really needed a hug.
“It’s not true, you know.” Pat’s voice was as small and plaintive as a little girl’s. “If I wasn’t taking responsibility I wouldn’t have asked for a divorce.”
“You can always change your mind.”
Pat gave a choked little laugh. “Has Dan ever told you what Herman calls our granddaughter? Attila. And yet he’s so terrified I’ll change my mind he’s prepared to spend a week in Auckland with her to avoid me.”
“Jocelyn,” Nan called impatiently, “what are we waiting for?”
“Coming.” Jo looked at Pat. “If you need someone to talk to…”
“Oh, I have a hundred girlfriends, don’t worry. Or I can phone one of my daughters. Nice to see you again, Rosemary,” Pat called, then with a nod to Jo, walked across the road, her platinum hair glinting like a helmet in the sun.
“Who was that?” Nan asked, when Jo got into the driver’s seat.
“Someone I feel like I’ve met for the first time. Let me make a quick call.” She keyed in Dan’s number.
“Jo.” Husky, sexy…and wary. He’d said her name a thousand times but this was the first she’d gone weak at the knees. Good thing she was sitting.
“Dan, I just saw your mother. I think she regrets asking for a divorce. Maybe you should tell your dad?”
There was a moment of silence. He’d expected another argument. “Hell, no. I learned my lesson. I’m staying out of it. Anyway, it’s not as bad as Mum thinks. Meredith’s having marital problems and Herman’s sticking around for a few days to watch the kids while she and Charlie thrash it out. My sister doesn’t want Mum charging in so we’re keeping that quiet.”
“But they had the perfect marriage,” Jo said, stunned. “Well, Meredith is perfect,” she amended. Dan’s sister was gentle and sweet, the opposite of her bombastic husband.
“I like that you’re already biased toward the Jansen side,” he approved.
“At least phone your mother. I really think she needs moral support.”
“Are we doing dinner?”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?” But Jo had already decided her best shot at talking him out of the wedding was to get together to do just that: talk.
“I prefer to think of it as lovemail,” he teased and Jo began to understand why he always got his girl. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
As she rang off, Nan said, “Now how on earth did I do that?” She was gazing at her cast with a puzzled expression.
Jo braced herself. “You had a fall.”
“Did I?” Nan might have forgotten, but Jo would always remember she’d let her own emotional needs take precedence over her grandmother’s best interests. Never again would she allow her heart to overrule her head.