“Afterward…how about dinner with me and the boys? Mrs. Miracle is a fabulous cook.”
Reba was amused by the children’s pet name for the housekeeper. Mrs. Miracle. It felt as though a miracle had happened in her life already, just meeting Seth. She wondered if he’d kiss her and was amazed by how much she wanted him to.
The house was dark, the porch light dim, encouraging, and she longed for the feel of Seth’s arms. Hungered for the comfort she instinctively recognized she’d find in his embrace. When he did take her gently in his arms, she experienced that and much more.
Seth’s kiss was sweet and undemanding. Slowly, as though he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, his lips found hers. His touch was tentative, light yet tender and fierce all at once, as if he too were dealing with an abundance of frightening emotions. Exploring them, she suspected, was as scary for him as it was for her. Perhaps more so, since he’d been married.
When he lifted his head from hers, she sighed softly, then wrapped her arms around his middle and braced her forehead against his shoulder.
“I wasn’t sure if kissing you was the thing to do.”
“I’m glad you did,” she whispered.
“Me too.” He stroked her hair, his fingers tangling with the short curls. “You’ll come to the house after church? For dinner with me and the kids?”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Good.” He tilted her head upward to meet his descending mouth and kissed her again. Hunger mingled with gentleness, and this time they ended the contact with heady reluctance. Once more Reba hid her face in his shoulder and inhaled deeply, seeking to find her equilibrium.
“I’d better get back.”
She nodded. “Dinner was wonderful.”
“I thought so, too.” He retreated two steps.
She raised her hand and wiggled her fingertips. “Good night,” she said as though everything were normal when in fact it wasn’t. She wasn’t. Many years earlier, while visiting her grandmother in California, a six-year-old Reba had been awakened by a violent earthquake. The experience had been traumatic. She’d clung to her grandmother, shaken both emotionally and physically. One date with Seth and Reba felt six years old all over again.
All because of Seth’s kisses. She felt renewed. Reawakened. Alive. And frightened. Terribly frightened. So much so that she was trembling almost uncontrollably by the time she walked inside her home.
Not turning on the light, she moved into her living room and sank onto the sofa. The darkness closed in around her, hiding her, letting her hide. From what, she wasn’t sure. Herself. Her feelings. The future.
The future?
She wondered if she dared trust another man again. Expose herself to another bout of pain.
Gradually a smile came into place. Seth wouldn’t hurt her, not when he’d been so deeply hurt himself. Her heart was safe with Seth Webster. Of that she was confident. Safe and secure.
Chapter 12
A skeptic is a person who when he sees the handwriting on the wall claims it’s a forgery.
—Morris Bender, as told to Mrs. Miracle
“Daddy, wake up!” Judd bounced onto Seth’s bed with all the energy of a Saint Bernard puppy.
Seth longed to bury his head beneath his pillow and possibly would have if Jason hadn’t hurled himself into the bed after his brother. Whatever chance he had of returning to sleep was forever lost. This was what he got for letting the kids crawl in bed with him on weekends.
“Is Miss Maxwell going to be our new mommy?”
“Ah…” Seth groaned. He needed coffee and a shower before facing an inquisition from his two children. The word “mommy” implied marriage, and he wasn’t anywhere close to considering a step that drastic. Sure, he’d enjoyed Reba’s company, but that was a hell of a long way from taking the proverbial plunge into matrimony. The mere word put the fear of God into him.
“Mrs. Miracle showed us Mommy’s picture last night,” Jason announced.
Seth’s head reared back with shocked surprise. He didn’t keep out any pictures of Pamela. Like the piano, they’d all been removed and stored carefully in the attic. It’d been a rash thing to do, perhaps even unreasonable, but at the time it had seemed necessary.
One evening, several weeks after he’d sent the boys to live with their grandparents, Seth had gone on a rampage through the house, collecting every snapshot, every photograph, he could lay his hands on. His shoulders had shaken with emotion as he’d gathered them together. Sometime later he’d tucked them away in the storage space in the attic.