Catherine Spencer - Convenient Brides

He spoke without rancor, and when Callie remarked on it, shrugged philosophically and said, “I accepted long ago that, in my father’s eyes, Paolo is the golden boy who can do no wrong. I’m not saying my father doesn’t love me, too, but my brother…it’s different with him, and that’s just the way it is.”

“Your father sometimes doesn’t use the sense he was born with,” Vanessa declared, planting a loving kiss on her husband’s cheek. “But I, thank goodness, do!” Then, turning to Callie, she said, “We’ll figure out a way to help you, honey. I take it you’ve seen a doctor?”

“Yes. He pointed out my choices—abortion, adoption or keeping the baby.”

“And?” Vanessa eyed her anxiously.

“I can’t terminate the pregnancy. I couldn’t live with myself, if I did.”

Visibly relieved, her sister asked, “What about adoption?”

“Oh, Vanessa!” Callie’s eyes overflowed again. “I don’t think I could go through with that, either. Giving my baby away to strangers—” She stopped to mop her tears. “I’m so ashamed. How am I ever going to face Mom.”

“Never mind the shame,” Vanessa declared. “The point is, pregnancy isn’t something you can keep secret for very long. Soon, everyone will know, including Mom.”

“No! I could move away. Get a job. Save my money—”

“There is no need to worry about money,” Ermanno said quietly. “That is one thing I can do something about.”

“And you have to tell Mom, Callie. She’ll be shocked, of course, but you know she’ll stand by you. Maybe, with her help, you’ll be able to keep the baby.”

“I don’t think I can stand to see the disappointment in her eyes,” Callie said miserably.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to. Tragically, on the drive home from Florida, their mother was killed in a headon collision in North Carolina. She never knew she was about to become a grandmother.

The hot splash of tears on her face drew Callie back to the present—that, and Paolo’s voice, low and concerned, observing, “What did I say to make you cry, Caroline?”

“You asked me why I didn’t go to Smith,” she said, swiping her fingers over her cheeks. “If you must know, it was because of my mother’s death.”

How plausibly the lie rolled off her tongue! Accepting it without hesitation, he said, “Ah, yes! I remember now that she died not long after Ermanno married Vanessa.”

“That same summer. My father left us when I was six and Vanessa eleven, so for most of my life it had been just my mother, my sister and I. Then, in the space of two months, I was alone.”

Except for your babies, of course!

That had been the next shock to hit her.

“Definitely twins,” the obstetrician to whom her doctor referred her had declared confidently. “Two for the price of one, young lady. You’re going to have to take very good care of yourself for the next five months. We don’t want a premature delivery.”

Oh, the blistering shame, to be the youngest daughter of the late, respected Audrey Leighton, president of the Junior League, pillar of society. To be pregnant and unmarried—with twins. Oh, God! Oh, God!

“You weren’t really alone. You still had your sister, and Ermanno, too.”

Oh, yes. More than you can begin to know! “I seldom saw them. They were traveling all over the world for the better part of a year.”

“So they were—until Vanessa was put on bed rest because of her pregnancy. They stayed in California then, until after the twins were born, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” she said, with guilelessly misleading honesty.

“And you were there for the birth?”

Callie stared fixedly at the moonlit sea, hating that she had to mouth another lie, albeit by omission. “Yes.”

“My mother planned to be there, also, but the babies came almost a month earlier than expected.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Actually only ten days early, thanks to the excellent care Callie had received. But Vanessa and Ermanno had planned their story carefully, to avoid just such a situation as Paolo described.

He shifted in his seat and then, shockingly, stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “Ah, Caroline,” he said softly. “I see how it hurts you, that you were there to welcome the children into the world, and yet could not be here, to see them grow up.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she cried, scrunching her eyes shut against the painful images forcing their way to the forefront of her mind.

To give birth, to hold her babies close to her heart and smell their sweet, newborn smell—and then, ten days later, to let them go? There were no words to describe the emptiness, the agony.

Even after all this time, the picture remained as painfully sharp as if it had happened just yesterday: Vanessa, wearing a yellow dress and matching jacket, Ermanno in a pale gray suit, and each of them holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft white blanket.

You know we couldn’t love them more, if they were our very own, Callie.

Never fear that they will want for anything, Caroline. They will have the best that money can buy.

Before stepping into the waiting limousine, Vanessa turned one last time to Callie. We’ll give them brothers and sisters. They’ll be part of a big, loving family—and so will you, Callie. You’ll be their darling aunt.

But the other children never materialized. Vanessa had been unable to conceive. Oh, Callie! she had wept. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have known the joy of being a mother. Thank you so much, darling, for the gift you gave us.

“Then tell me all of it,” Paolo urged. “Tell me what it is that haunts you with such sorrow.”

“My sister died last week,” she said, choking back a sob. “Isn’t that enough?”

Sliding his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “There’s more,” he insisted. “I hear it in your voice. I see it in your eyes. What is it you’re holding back? Please, Caroline, let me help you.”

“You?” Her laugh verged on the hysterical. “I hardly think so!”

“Why? Because, the first time I held you in my arms, I was too foolish to realize your true worth?” He expelled a huge sigh of frustration. “That was a long time ago, cara. Trust me when I tell you, I’ve changed for the better since then.”

Temptation nibbled at the edges of her resolve. Quickly, before it gained too powerful a hold, she replied, “Easy for you to say, Paolo, but where’s the proof?”

“Here.” He tapped a fist to his chest. “I admit that when I met you in Paris, I viewed you as a threat to my family, and was prepared to squash you flat at the first hint of sabotage. But I’ve watched you, this last week. I’ve seen your kindness to my mother, the way you sit with her and try to comfort her when your own heart is also breaking. I’ve seen how patient you are with the children, how loving, even though, more often than not, they rebuff your overtures.”

His hand strayed down her throat, stole around her neck. “If it were within your power to do so, I believe you would change places with Vanessa, just to give them back their mother. Yet something more than that is eating you alive. I know it, and it worries me, even as my heart tells me you’re incapable of sinister motives.”

“ My heart hears your words and wants to believe them,” she countered tremulously, “but my head tells me actions are what count.”

“Then let your head be the best judge of this,” he said, and before she could guess his intent, let alone utter a protest, his mouth came down on hers and fastened there in a burst of heat that set her blood on fire.