The Marriage Prescription

When his gaze dropped to her mouth the air evaporated from her lungs.

“Good night,” he murmured.

Slowly, very slowly, he leaned toward her. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it. She moistened her lips, in anticipation of his sealing completely over hers.

But they didn’t. Instead, he pressed that perfect mouth to her forehead.

As if she were a child.

Or his little sister.

“See you tomorrow.” With one last breath-stealing smile, he turned and walked away.

She wanted to scream. Fury mushroomed inside her. She opened her mouth to tell him she would be busy tomorrow, but he suddenly stopped and faced her. She snapped her mouth shut.

“By the way,” he said in that teasing tone that was all charm and Ashton, “I think it’s great how you agreed to come up with the theme for the whole event.”

Theme?

Grinning widely, Zach winked and strolled away.

Beth sagged against the old wooden door and watched him go. So that’s what Viola had asked her. Beth mentally recited a few choice expletives. What did she know about themes? She was a doctor. She didn’t do themes.

One way or another she had to mend this rift between her mother and Zach’s. Her heart couldn’t take spending this much one-on-one time with the only man she’d ever really loved…

…the same one who’d never thought of her as anything but the girl next door.

Chapter Three

Colleen Ashton signed the letter she’d just finished writing and made quick work of folding it, then tucked it into the matching embossed envelope. She sealed it, penned her son’s name on the front, then set it aside to put in the safe when she finished the remainder of this morning’s correspondence. She restrained the uncharacteristic tears that crowded her throat for the second time today.

No one would ever convince her that she was making a mistake. Not even Helen whom she trusted with her life.

The thought that she and Helen had not spoken in more than twenty-four hours weighed heavy on Colleen’s heart. But there was nothing to be done about it. She and Helen didn’t see eye to eye on the matter and she doubted that anything was going to change that indisputable fact.

“We have a problem.”

Colleen’s head came up at the unexpected sound of Helen’s voice. As Helen crossed the room, Colleen stood, squared her shoulders and faced what would likely be another attempt to sway her decision. But she would not relent. It was completely out of the question.

“I thought we weren’t speaking,” Colleen said crisply when her friend paused next to the antique writing desk.

Helen raised one tawny brow. “We aren’t, but this is an emergency.”

“What sort of emergency?”

It irritated Helen to no end that Colleen could be so blasted analytical about everything—including this. Helen wanted to shake some sense into her, but she knew Colleen too well. Nothing would change her mind unless she wanted to change it. Unfortunately, she didn’t.

“Beth suspects something.”

Colleen wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I would imagine she does. After that little performance you gave in here yesterday, I would think the whole world suspects something is amiss.”

“No.”

The singular word spoken so sharply echoed in the room. Fear seeped into Colleen’s weary bones.

“I mean she really suspects. I’m sure she’s talked to Zach already.”

Colleen nodded. “She has. Zach gave me the third degree last night after he returned from town.”

“It’s time,” Helen said, her gaze pinning Colleen’s with fierce determination. “What if you’d died when you suffered that heart attack? I can’t take this secret to the grave with me. I just can’t do it.”

“But I didn’t die.” Colleen lifted her chin a notch. “It wouldn’t have changed anything if I had. We both know that.”

“It’s wrong for us to say nothing,” Helen insisted, her expression as grim and desperate as her tone. “You know it’s wrong.”

“If that’s all you have to say then there’s nothing else to discuss.” Colleen held her ground, not giving an inch. “You and Beth are a part of this family, Helen. As much as you mean to me, I will not allow you to take matters into your own hands. We took an oath never to speak of this again.”

“We were young.” Helen shook her head, tears shining in her worried eyes. “We didn’t think.”

Colleen struggled to hold back her own tears. “Helen McCormick, I will hold you to that oath until the day I die.”

Helen swiped at the lone tear that managed to escape her brutal hold on her emotions. “This is wrong and you know it. It’s a mistake.”

“That may be. But it’s my decision. If it’s a mistake, then it’s mine to make.”

Two long beats passed before Helen walked away.

Colleen watched her go, sadness welling inside her. What was done was done. There was no turning back now.

“YOU’RE SURE you want to tackle this job, Mr. Ashton?”

Hank, the local handyman, eyed Zach speculatively. At sixty, the man had attempted just about any kind of fixer-up job one could imagine. Including getting his portly frame trapped under Widow Murphy’s house while repairing her faulty plumbing. Ten at the time, Zach vividly recalled the local volunteer fire department having to rescue the man. He doubted Hank crawled under many houses these days. But he’d kept up the maintenance here ever since Beth’s father died.

Zach turned his attention back to the ornate gazebo nestled amid the lush landscape of the backyard where he’d played as a child. Since his mother had decided to have her birthday party here, the gazebo, she had insisted, required a fresh coat of paint. It looked fine to Zach, but then he wasn’t a painter. And it wasn’t his birthday. Whatever his mother wanted, he intended to make sure she got.

“You know,” Zach began somewhat hesitantly, “I think I will do it myself.” At least this way he’d have something to do besides think about the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t.

Hank stroked his jaw and studied the large structure as if assessing the possibility. “You’ll need the right equipment. Ladders, brushes and such.”

Zach nodded, his gaze shifting to the other man. “You could take care of that for me, couldn’t you?”

“Sure. Be happy to. I’ll set you up right now, if you’d like. I can even run down to the hardware and pick up the paint.” Hank smoothed a stubby hand over one intricately carved post. “A nice semigloss would be your best bet.”

Never one to waste time once he’d made a decision, Zach said, “Let’s do it then.”

Hank adjusted his cap, then hung his thumbs on the suspenders of his overalls. “I’ll have everything set up within the hour.”

“Excellent. I’ll be ready.”