“Never alone,” she murmured wonderingly
“Never alone. Sweet dreams, love….”
Gypsy was restless, on edge. She was bursting to tell Chase how she felt, and the morning dragged by with no sign of him. She washed Daisy again and cultivated two flower beds, and still he didn’t come.
She wandered around the house, trying to rehearse what she wanted to say. But she knew ruefully that—rehearsals notwithstanding—heaven only knew what would come out of her mouth when the moment came.
It was after two when she finally left the house, wandering out to the edge of the cliffs and sitting down on the grass at the top of the steps. She stared out over the ocean, her mind empty of everything except the wish that he would come to her.
She didn’t hear him coming, but was instantly aware when he knelt on the grass just behind her.
“Gypsy?”
She twisted around abruptly, her arms going around his neck with blind certainty. She felt his arms holding her tightly, felt the smooth material of his shirt and the heavy beat of his heart beneath her cheek.
“I’ve found a new kind of hero,” she told him breathlessly. “A kind I never knew existed.”
“What kind?” he asked gently, holding her as if he would never let her go.
“He makes me laugh. And he doesn’t mind that I’m messy and can’t cook. He fixes Herman and helps me find my glasses and cooks marvelous meals for me. He makes me stop work to help him down from trees, even though he’s got a ladder. He does impossible things in Jacuzzis and plays music made by whales, and thinks I’m a treasure he stumbled on by accident. He puts up with a huge dog and an invasion of cats, and keeps a dent in his Mercedes. And he’s so very patient with me….”
“Gypsy…” Chase turned her face up with gentle hands, looking down at her with glowing jade eyes.
“I love you,” she told him fiercely. “I love you so much, and if you can only put up with me—”
“Put up with you?” His voice was an unsteady rasp. “God, Gypsy, don’t you realize what you mean to me?” He rubbed his forehead against hers in a rough movement. “When we first met, I didn’t know whether to kiss you or have you committed. Within six hours I knew that I wanted you committed—to me. For the rest of our lives. I love you, sweetheart.”
“Chase …” Gypsy closed her eyes blissfully as his lips met hers. She was dimly aware of movement but was not troubled by it, responding with all the love inside herself to the sweetness of his kiss. When her lashes finally drifted open again, she discovered that she was lying on her back in the soft grass, with Chase lying close beside her. His lips were feathering lightly along her jawline, teasing the corner of her mouth.
“Why did you leave me?” she asked huskily knowing the answer but needing to hear it from him. “Why were you so— so indifferent?”
“I was gambling, Gypsy mine,” he murmured, lifting his head to gaze into her eyes. “You still weren’t sure about us, and I was going crazy trying to think of some way of proving to you that we belonged together. So I decided to leave, suddenly and with little warning. I hoped you’d miss me. But driving away that morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. These last days have been hell,” he finished roughly.
Gypsy touched his cheek, a gentle apology for the pain of his uncertainty, and her senses flared when he turned his head to softly kiss her palm.
“Everything happened so fast that morning,” she said. “You didn’t give me a chance to stop and think; you were just gone.”
His smile was twisted wryly. “If I’d given you a chance to think, honey, I would have given myself one as well. And I never would have gone. It was like taking bad-tasting medicine; I had to get it over with quickly.”
“And… the project in Richmond?” she asked softly.
“Oh, it was real. They called me a couple of weeks before I left. The project’s on, by the way. There are still a few details to be hammered out, but the contract’s being drawn up now. Would you like to spend the winter in Richmond, Gypsy mine?”
“I’ve never been to Richmond.” She smiled up at him, and then the smile turned wondering. “I just can’t believe it,” she said almost to herself. “I’m so hopeless to live with, and yet you—”
“Honey…” He shook his head with a faint smile, and went on slowly. “You brought something different into my life, something special. There aren’t enough hours in the day for me now, because every one brings something new and exciting. Don’t you realize how fascinating you are just to watch ?”
He kissed her lightly on the nose, one finger tracing the curve of her cheek. “The way you blink like a startled kitten when you’re surprised. The way you absentmindedly put on one pair of glasses while another’s on the top of your head. The way you explain something totally ridiculous with all the reasonableness in the world.
“You accept the absurd without a blink and make the commonplace seem fascinating. You have a mind as sharp as a razor, and yet you can never find whatever you’re looking for. You have a penchant for naming objects and talking to them— and about them—as if they were people. You’re prone to collect strange things like Buddhas, and the urge to collect them honestly bewilders you.” He smiled tenderly at her. “And when I’m with you, I feel as if I’m on the world’s biggest roller coaster—exhilarated and breathless.”
Gypsy tried to think straight. “But I can’t cook, and I’m not a housekeeper.”
He kissed her suddenly, as if he couldn’t help himself, and she realized that he was laughing silently.
“How you do harp on that,” he chided gently. “Do you think I give a damn that you don’t cook and aren’t a housekeeper? So what? I couldn’t write a book if you took me through it sentence by sentence. I couldn’t create a hero you’d want to stand up and cheer for—”
“Yes, you could,” she interrupted breathlessly, the emotions inside of her threatening to burst their fragile human shell.
Chase hugged her silently, a suspicious shine in the jade eyes. “The point is,” he went on huskily, “that I don’t have to ‘put up’ with you at all, honey. I love everything about you. You’re beautiful inside and out. Warm and giving, humorous and ridiculous, and passionate. You fill my days with laughter and my nights with magic. From the moment I saw compassion in your lovely eyes for the lonely little boy I might have been, I knew that I’d found the woman I’ve been looking for all my life. The treasure I stumbled on by accident…”
“I love you, Chase,” she told him shakily. “I was so empty when you left, so alone. I realized then that if I never wrote another word, it wouldn’t bother me—but if I never saw you again, I’d die. I was so stupid, so stupid not to see it sooner!”
“My love,” he murmured, kissing her.
Long moments passed, the silence broken only by the muted roar of the ocean, the soft twittering of birds, and murmurs of love.
“I really hate to break the mood,” Gypsy said at last, her voice grave, “but I think we’d better get up.”
“Why?” he lifted a brow at her. “No neighbors.”
“Neighbors are closer than you think.” Gypsy made a slight, restless movement. “Uh… I believe you put me down on an ant’s nest.”
Chase began to laugh helplessly.
She grinned up at him. “Just call me Pauline!”
Still laughing, Chase got to his feet and helped her up. “I believe I’ve mentioned it before, sweetheart, but even Cyrano would have a hell of a time trying to romance you!”
“Are you glad you’ve got me instead?” she asked politely.
“I can’t believe my luck.” He began enthusiastically brushing her down to remove possible ants.
“Chase?”
“What?”
“I was lying on my back. Not my front.”
“So you were, so you were.” He grinned at her, linking his hands together at the small of her back as they stood close together.
“You’re impossible!” she told
him severely.
“Can I help it if I can’t keep my hands off you?” he asked, wounded.
“Dignity,” she said austerely, “should be our uniform of the day.”
“That uniform won’t fit either one of us.”
“We must strive to cultivate dignity,” she insisted solemnly.
“Why?”
“Because we’re grown-up adult people, that’s why.”
“Are we?” Chase frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.”
“We’d better be, if we’re going to get married. Are we going to get married?”
“Of course we are.”
“I wondered. You never said.”
“I was waiting for you to ask me.”
Gypsy thought of her mother’s advice, and bit back a giggle. “Never let it be said that I didn’t do what was expected of me. Shall I make an honest man out of you? I think I shall. Will you marry me?”
“You’re supposed to get down on your knees and swear undying love,” he pointed out critically.
“Can’t I stand and swear undying love?” she asked anxiously. “The ants, you know.”
“I’m willing to stretch a point,” he allowed graciously.
“Thank you.” Gypsy tightened her arms around his neck and looked up at him soulfully “My darling, you’re everything I didn’t dare hope to find, everything I looked for in my dreams.” The light mockery fell away from her slowly as she gazed at the lean face that meant so much to her.
“I can face the worst of life with you beside me, and enjoy the best of life as I never would without you. I’d do anything for you, pay any price for your love. I’d willingly give up everything that ever mattered to me if you asked it of me. I’d follow you through the fires of hell itself.” Her voice became suddenly unsteady, but not uncertain. “I’ll love you until I die … and after. Will you marry me, my love?”
Chase drew a deep, shuddering breath, his arms tightening fiercely around her. “Yes, please,” he said simply.
Gypsy swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled tremulously up at him. “Now we’re betrothed,” she said gravely.
“And a very short betrothal it’ll be, love,” he told her firmly. “I hope you hadn’t planned on a big wedding.”
“What? With my Perils of Pauline luck?” Gypsy was honestly horrified. “I wouldn’t dare! I’d trip over my train, or drop the flowers—or the ring—”
Chase was laughing. “You probably would, Gypsy mine. So we’ll have a nice quiet wedding as soon as it can be arranged. Would your parents mind if we were married at the office of a justice of the peace?” A whimsical expression crossed his face as he thought of Gypsy’s parents. “Stupid question,” he murmured.
Gypsy was grinning up at him. “My parents wouldn’t mind if we were married in the middle of Portland during rush hour—just as long as it’s legal.”
“Mmmm.” Chase lifted an eyebrow. “Dad won’t be able to get leave to return to the States for the wedding, so you’d better be prepared for a second ceremony—in Switzerland.”
“Switzerland?” she mumbled.
“Uh-huh. Nice place for a honeymoon, don’t you think? I can watch you wrap Dad around your little finger, and then we can spend a few weeks seeing all the places the tourists miss. We’ll even rent a chalet—that way we won’t have to bother about DO NOT DISTURB signs. How does that sound?”
Gypsy frowned at him. “Why do I suddenly get the feeling that you’ve had this arranged for quite a while?”
Chase looked thoughtful, the jade laughter in his eyes giving him away. “I couldn’t say—unless it’s because you know me so well, sweetheart.”
“Chase!”
He chuckled softly. “Guilty—and I don’t regret it a bit. Actually I called Dad during one of those hellish nights in Richmond and told him that I was bringing my bride to the Alps as soon as possible, and would he please rent a chalet for us?” Chase looked reflective. “I’m sure I sounded a little wild. Anyway Dad can’t wait to meet you.”
Gypsy realized that her mouth was open, and hastily closed it. “Oh, Lord,” she murmured.
“He already knows you from your books,” Chase was going on cheerfully. “We share an addiction for mysteries. As a matter of fact, we both agree that you’re number one; we each have your books hardbound, and guard them jealously.”
“You never told me that,” she mumbled, suddenly remembering Jake’s comment about Chase’s “raving” over her books.
“You never asked.” He kissed her nose; it seemed to be a favorite spot for him. “How many children shall we have, Gypsy mine?”
She blinked. “You like your questions loaded, don’t you?”
“Never answer a question with a question,” he chided gravely. “I was thinking of three. That’s a nice, uneven number. However, I absolutely insist on being consulted over the names. Otherwise, our children will end up with names like Vladimir or Shadwell or Zenobia or Radinka. Or Bucephalus.”
“I didn’t name him!” Gypsy objected, trying not to laugh.
“I have my suspicions about that,” Chase told her darkly.
Gypsy giggled, and then sobered. “Three,” she murmured, and then looked up at Chase with sudden vulnerability and uncertainty in her eyes. “Our children…. Darling, I’d love to be a mother, but do you think—”
He laid a gentle finger across her lips, cutting off doubts. “Our children will cherish their mother all the days of their lives,” he assured her huskily “They’ll come to her with their laughter and their tears, because she’ll laugh with them and cry with them. She’ll be the type of mother who’ll gather all the neighborhood kids at her house for an impromptu party or a picnic, and she’ll never run out of games or stories. It’ll be a disorganized home, filled with laughter and love, and innumerable pets—and I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
After a moment of drowning in the warm jade depths of his eyes, Gypsy murmured softly, “In that case, three won’t be enough.”
He kissed her nose again. “I’m open to negotiations, darling.”
“Why don’t we try out that Jacuzzi of yours again?” she suggested solemnly. “It should be a good place to… negotiate.”
“Great minds. We could—”
“So here you are! I turn my back for an instant, and just look at the trouble you’ve gotten into!”
The authoritative voice—rather like the screech of a disturbed crow—caused Chase and Gypsy to step hurriedly apart, their expressions those of guilty children caught with their entire arms in a cookie jar. They turned toward the house, Gypsy with resignation and Chase with astonishment.
“Is that Amy?” he asked Gypsy in a comical aside.
“Uh-huh.” Gypsy didn’t dare look at Chase for fear of coming unglued. “Hi, Amy,” she said in a stronger voice. “You turned your back for more than an instant, you turned it for weeks. Of course, I got into trouble.” Chase poked her with an elbow, and she continued obediently, “Amy, this is Chase. The trouble I got into.”
After a rather desperate look at Gypsy, Chase produced a winning smile. “Hello, Amy. It’s nice to meet you finally, after—”
“You have a last name?” Amy demanded tersely, never one to possess scruples about interrupting other people in the middle of their sentences.
“Mitchell,” Chase supplied in a failing voice.
Gypsy was coming unglued.
Amy was six feet tall in flat shoes (which she normally wore) and built like a fullback. She had long hair worn in a no-nonsense bun and as red as a fire engine, snapping blue eyes, and the kind of face artists drew on Vikings. That face had character; it also had the trick of looking like a scientist’s face in the act of dispassionately studying the latest bug under a microscope.
She might have been any age between forty-five and sixty-five, and looked about as capable as a human being could look without resembling a computer. She had no waist, and there was more of her going than coming, all of it tightly bound in gasping
blue jeans and a peasant blouse. And her voice would easily wither a Bengal tiger in his tracks.
“So you’re Mitchell. Rebecca told me about you.” She looked Chase up and down with cold suspicion.
Recovering from that inspection—when Amy looked at you, he decided, your bones felt scoured—Chase hastily decided on a strategy. Exposure to Gypsy and her parents had taught him nothing if not that unpredictability was “a consummation devoutly to be wished.” So he decided on a fast charge through forward enemy positions.
Stepping forward, he caught Amy around her nonexistent waist with both arms, planted a kiss squarely on her compressed lips, and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’ll have to excuse us for a while, Amy; Gypsy and I are going to negotiate in a Jacuzzi.”
He released her and turned to pick up a laughing Gypsy and toss her lightly over his shoulder. When he turned back, he saw that Amy’s face had altered slightly. There was the faintest hint of a possibility that there might have been a twitch of her lips which an optimistic man would have called the beginnings of a smile.
“Negotiate what?” she asked. (Mildly for her, Chase decided, although a grizzly bear would have happily claimed it as a lethal growl.)
“Important things,” Chase told her solemnly. “Like the number of children, and names for same … and cabbages and kings. You will excuse us?” he added politely.
“Certainly.” Her voice was as polite as his, and her deadpan expression would have moved a marble statue to tears. “Supper’s at seven—don’t be late.”
“We wouldn’t think of it,” Chase assured her, carrying his future bride over his shoulder and striding toward the deck at the rear of his house.
As he went up the steps to the deck Chase swatted a conveniently placed derriere, and said despairingly, “I was expecting a motherly sort of woman!”
“I know you were!” Gypsy was laughing so hard, she could barely speak. “Oh, God! Your expression was priceless!”