Claire wanted to call Dean, to hear his voice

But she had to figure out why she felt this way.

For twenty-five years she’d dreamed of going to college. That was a long time. Why hadn’t she?

She’d told herself her family came first. But was it something else?

Maybe subconsciously she felt she’d made a mistake by getting pregnant the first time and was trying to atone by sacrificing her own goals. Did she feel she didn’t deserve to have her dream come true?

Her thoughts angered her and she had no answers. All she knew was that first she had to accept the pregnancy. After that, she wasn’t sure about her life. Maybe the dream was just that—a dream.

And it was time to let it go.

Dear Reader,

I’m always asked where I get my story ideas—this book was actually a very nice gift. I was sitting in a beauty shop listening to the conversations going on around me. A stylist was telling her client about a friend in her forties who had just found out she was pregnant. Her youngest child had just graduated from college.

I found this intriguing and, yes, I kept listening. Seems the friend had gotten pregnant and married young, and instead of going to college she devoted her life to her family. Now that her kids were grown, she’d enrolled for the fall semester. But history repeated itself and she was again faced with an unplanned pregnancy. She had packed a suitcase and left. Everyone, especially her husband, was worried.

This bit of beauty-shop gossip grabbed me, and I really felt for this unknown woman. I thought it would make a great story.

When writing this, I had a lot of blanks to fill in. I asked friends how they’d feel if they had gotten pregnant in their forties, and I didn’t get one positive response. Everyone loved their kids but didn’t relish the idea of having a child late in life. I never found out what happened to the stylist’s friend, but I hope she made all the right choices, like Claire and Dean. As I dealt with their lives, it touched a lot of emotional chords in me. I hope you enjoy this gift.

Warmly,

Linda Warren

P.S. It always brightens my day to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at Lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my Web site at www.lindawarren.net or www.myspace.com/authorlindawarren. Your letters will be answered.

Always a Mother
Linda Warren

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning, bestselling author Linda Warren has written twenty-one books for Harlequin Superromance and Harlequin American Romance. She grew up in the farming and ranching community of Smetana, Texas, the only girl in a family of boys. She loves to write about Texas, and from time to time scenes and characters from her childhood show up in her books. Linda lives in College Station, Texas, not far from her birthplace, with her husband, Billy, and a menagerie of wild animals, from Canada geese to bobcats. Visit her Web site at www.lindawarren.net.

I dedicate this book to mothers everywhere.

And to my mother, Mary Dudake Siegert.

Thanks for the freedom to dream, a spirit to believe

and roots to keep me grounded.

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A special thanks to Robin Fuller, Amy Landry, Dorothy Kissman and Phyllis Fletcher for their help in the writing of this book.

Thanks, too, to the American Heart Association and U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Any errors are strictly mine and all characters are fictional.

CHAPTER ONE

CLAIRE RENNELS CLUNG to one thought.

She couldn’t be sick.

Not now.

But the waves of chills shuddering across her clammy skin told their own story. She shivered and crumpled to the bathroom floor like cheap toilet paper. Clutching the commode, she felt beads of perspiration break out on her forehead, and took several quick breaths.

What was wrong with her?

She drew another long breath, slowly releasing it through her mouth. Feeling calmer, she tipped her head back against the flowery wallpaper and stared up at the peach-colored ceiling. They needed to paint. The color had faded to a shade she couldn’t describe, and a spiderweb dangled in one corner.

Someone, preferably not her, should clean away the cobwebs. She wasn’t a great housekeeper and would be the first to admit that failing. Their home had a lived-in look, but it was comfortable and cheery.

The calm didn’t last long. Bile rose in her throat and her stomach spun with gut-wrenching nausea. She leaned over the toilet, retching one more time. She should be with her husband, Dean, helping to move his mom into a new house, but here she was, puking her guts out and getting acquainted with the ceiling.

With her stomach finally resting, she pushed herself to her feet, stumbled to the sink and washed out her sour mouth. She should clean the bathroom, but she didn’t have the strength at the moment. Maybe later.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she did a double take. Holy cow! Her pallid skin, fatigued eyes and sweat-soaked hair made her look like death warmed over, as Bunny, her mother-in-law, would say.

Back to bed, no question. Claire planned to hide her weak body beneath the covers until the world was a brighter shade of hearty pink, not sickly green.

As she trudged toward the bedroom she kept repeating her delusional mantra for the day: I’m not sick. I’m not.

Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she stopped dead in her tracks. When was the last time she’d had her period? She quickly calculated the weeks.

Her hand trembled as she scrubbed at her face. Think. Think. Think. She’d had a period in late June, right before they’d taken their daughters, Sarah and Samantha, to Cancun for a family vacation. Since Sarah was getting into a serious relationship, this would probably be the last trip with just the four of them.

Claire made her way to the bed and sank down on it, dragging her fingers through her sweaty hair. This was late August. No. No. No. She couldn’t be pregnant, not at the age of forty-three. Life couldn’t be that cruel. But she knew that it could.

Staggering to her feet, she dug in a drawer for jogging pants and a T-shirt. She had to buy a pregnancy test even if she threw up all the way to the store.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER she rushed into her bathroom to perform the test, sincerely hoping this was one she’d fail.

Staring at the result, Claire moaned and slid to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. Not again! How could she be so careless?

Swiping away tears, she rested against the vanity. In a little over a week she would start college, her dream since she was eighteen. She’d managed to earn a few credits while she’d raised her family, and now she would finally get her degree. But just like when she was eighteen, she found herself pregnant.

Her stomach cramped again, this time from the selfish, negative emotions swamping her. She’d raised two wonderful daughters and put them and her husband through college. She’d earned the right to do something for herself for a change.

She stared into the bedroom to a bookshelf adorned with baby pictures of their daughters. Set among them were trophies and awards she and Dean had won in high school. He’d been a football jock and she’d been salutatorian of the class. The hunk and the nerd, they were called. But as smart as she was supposed to be, she wasn’t smart enough to avoid getting pregnant.

At age eighteen, two months from graduation, Claire had discovered she was going to have a baby. All her hopes and dreams crumbled as she made the hardest decision of her life. She wasn’t going through that again.

This time she was older, although not much wiser. She knew she had options. She should call Dean, but if she saw him she might actually kill him. It was her body and she’d make this decision alone.

You didn’t create the baby alone, a little voice whispered inside her head. She wouldn’t listen to that voice. It had told her to go ahead and use a condom when she’d forgotten her diaphragm on the Cancun trip. She might kill the little voice, too.

After gathering the packaging and the pregnancy test paraphernalia, Claire hurried to the kitchen, wrapped everything in paper towels, and threw it into the trash to hide the evidence. She wasn’t ready to tell Dean. She ran to her car before she could change her mind.

The Planned Parenthood Clinic wasn’t far away. She’d driven by it many times, and sometimes thought of the women inside. She’d never understood how a woman could abort a baby. This was different, though. This was her life. Beyond that, she wouldn’t let herself think.

She parked some distance away, and took a few moments to calm down. Protesters marched outside in the August heat. A wrought-iron security fence enclosed the clinic to keep the protesters out and to protect the women who made the choice to abort their child.

All Claire had to do was go inside, take another pregnancy test and make a decision. Easy.

Wrong. She’d been raised in a Christian home, just as she and Dean had raised their girls. She took a deep breath and prayed for strength. The moment she did, she knew this was wrong—so horribly wrong. She couldn’t do it. Her beliefs wouldn’t allow it.

She had rights. Was that supposed to alleviate the guilt? She tucked her blond hair behind her ear. In reality, her rights had been compromised the moment she’d agreed to have sex with her husband.

She knew, as did Dean, that a condom wasn’t one hundred percent safe. There was always a risk of conception, and once she and Dean had taken that risk they had to be prepared to deal with the consequences.

Just as they had years ago.

Claire rested her hand on her stomach. The new life inside took precedence over her rights. Some people might not believe that, but she did. No way could she end her pregnancy. She couldn’t do it when she was eighteen, and she certainly couldn’t do it now.

Slowly, she drove home, trying to come to terms with everything she was feeling. Talking to Dean wasn’t going to help. She knew him as well as she knew herself. He’d offer his support, but what she needed now was time alone. He wasn’t going to understand that. Still, she hurriedly threw clothes into a carryall.

Grabbing underwear out of a drawer, she saw a stack of old letters tied with a worn red ribbon hidden away in the back. She pulled them out. These were letters she’d written to Dean in high school and after they were married. He’d kept them in a drawer in his bedroom. When she’d moved in with him and his mother, she’d found them, and was so touched he’d saved them. She’d tied the red ribbon around the letters adding new ones to the pile over the years. Writing to Dean always gave her peace and strength, and reinforced their love.

Love letters.

Her love letters.

Her feelings. Her emotions.

Twice in the past she’d faced unexpected pregnancies and had found acceptance waiting deep in her heart. She had to find that once again.

Everything she’d felt for Dean was in the letters, her fears, her hopes, her dreams, but most of all her love. Looking at them, she knew that to come to terms with her future she would have to find the love and motivation that had defined her life. The letters would do that. She gently placed them in the bag.

In the kitchen, she wrote a note for Dean.

Dean,

I’m not feeling well and need to get out of the city for a while. Don’t worry. I’ll call.

Claire

At the moment that was the best she could do. She’d phone him later and try to explain. Right now she didn’t need to hear him say they could work this out or that he loved her. She just needed some time to herself. She paused as she saw her new laptop lying on the desk—the laptop Dean had bought her to start college. Swallowing back a sob, she ran for the door.

She had no idea where she was going until she got on the North MoPac Expressway and saw US 290. Claire and Dean had bought a small house on Lake Travis, just northwest of Austin, when Sarah was about twelve. They had a friend who’d been getting a divorce, and all they had to do was come up with five thousand dollars cash and take up the payments for the next ten years. It was a very good deal and Claire had known that if they took it, their budget would not extend for her return to college. But that was okay. Her family came first. They’d spent a lot of time on the lake ever since, especially with the girls and their friends. Their summers were always fun.

Without a second thought she took the exit and headed for the lake house now, hoping to recapture a part of her youth and maybe a part of herself.

DEAN RENNELS STROLLED through the back door, whistling. He’d finally gotten his mom moved. She’d been living in the same house he’d grown up in. As a single mother, she’d worked extra hard to make sure he was raised in a good environment. Back then the neighborhood was nice and the park a place to play ball.

In the last few years, though, the area had gone downhill, the park was used for drug deals and the neighborhood kids were no longer safe. Neither was his mom, who’d refused to move until a teenage girl was murdered in the park.

Her new town house had just been built, and updated with a security system—everything he wanted for his mother, the only person who’d been there for him and Claire in the early days.

He threw his keys on the desk in the kitchen, hoping Claire was feeling better. He was sure it was only nerves. There were only ten days until she started college, a dream she’d had since she was eighteen. The reality was hard for her to believe, but he was going to make sure nothing stood in the way of her dream this time.

Nothing.

“Honey,” he called, walking toward the bedroom. He picked up the comforter from the hardwood floor and laid it on the rumpled bed. In the bathroom, a stench sent him reeling. She was definitely sick. Where was she? A sliver of alarm slid up his spine. Could she have driven herself to the hospital? No. She would have called him.

Hurrying back to the kitchen, he spotted the note attached to the refrigerator. He read it, frowning. “What…?” He read it again, but it still didn’t tell him a lot. She needed to get away. Why? His gut tightened with a premonition. Something was wrong.

He dragged in a breath. Claire had said she’d call, so he had to wait. To keep busy, he went into the utility room for cleaning supplies to scrub the bathroom. That done, he sprayed air freshener, something the girls had bought at a specialty shop. He sniffed. Lime and verbena. Not bad. But not something he wanted to smell on a regular basis.

After straightening the bed, he flipped on the TV. An Austin high school team was supposed to be playing on one of the cable channels. He found it. Pivoting, he started for the den and noticed Claire’s underwear drawer. She’d left it open, and the contents were spilling out. A spot was vacant in the back corner—where Claire stored the love letters. He teased her about keeping them, but she’d said one day their daughters might like to read about their parents’ lives as teenagers.

Why had Claire taken the letters? They’d been there for years. He closed the drawer with a sinking feeling. Had she left him? No. There were no signs. They were in love, always had been since grade school.

He’d sat behind her in class and had a bird’s-eye view of her blond ponytail and the colorful ribbons tied around it. Every day brought a different ribbon, to match her clothes. As a boy, he didn’t quite get that.

But he got Claire, even though she tended to ignore him. So one day he yanked her ribbon and drew her full attention. She’d quickly retied the bow and glared at him. He just grinned at her.

Later he’d yanked it again on the playground and run away. She’d yelled after him, “I’ll get you, Dean Rennels.”

And she did. Over the next few years she got him in more ways than he could remember. Claire was a voracious reader and won the reading award every term, writing the most book reports of anyone in their class. In ninth grade the teacher wanted them to read with a buddy, and the top readers had the honor of choosing their partners. Claire picked him, the boy’d who pulled her ribbons. The guys teased him, but he didn’t care. Usually he couldn’t wait to get out of class to go play ball, but for the first time, something, or someone, held him back.

After that Claire helped him with his book reports and made suggestions of what he might want to read. She introduced him to Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. He’d loved those stories, but couldn’t quite get into The Grapes of Wrath or Moby Dick or Wuthering Heights and many other books she couldn’t put down.

It wasn’t just the books; it was Claire with her soft lilting voice, her serene expression and the light in her brown eyes. He never noticed those things in other girls, but Claire held him spellbound, which was a feat because sports usually had his undivided attention.

The School Dance, 1980

DEAN’S LOCKER WAS ACROSS from Claire’s. The school dance was a week away and he wasn’t sure about going. Since he played football, the coach said he had to go. Dean wasn’t sure why. The dance had nothing to do with football.

As Claire arranged books neatly in her locker, he walked over to her. “Are you going to the dance?”

“No. My parents don’t allow me to date.”

“My mom won’t let me date, either, but I’m thinking about going.”

She closed her locker, but before she could walk away, he blurted out, “Maybe we could meet at the dance. It wouldn’t exactly be a date.”

A smile turned up the corners of her mouth and he knew he was in love, or something. He felt happy and ill at the same time.

“Okay.” Her smile broadened. “I’ll meet you at the dance.”

He was nervous getting ready that evening. He was very careful not to go outside or even pick up a ball. No way was he getting mud on his clothes tonight.

His mom, Margaret Ann Rennels, better known as Bunny, drove him to the dance. She stopped her Ford Fairmont at the school. “Behave yourself,” she said, crushing out a cigarette in the ashtray.

“Do you have to smoke? I don’t want to smell like that. It’s gross.”

“I have the window down and I don’t smoke in the house. Isn’t that enough?”

“I guess.” Dean twisted the rearview mirror so he could peer at himself. “Do I look okay?”

Bunny frowned at him. “What’s wrong with you? You never care how you look.”

“This is a dance. I’m supposed to look nice.”

She touched his cheek. “You’re handsome just like that no-good father of yours.”

He groaned, not wanting to talk about his dad, who’d left them before Dean was born. The man couldn’t handle the responsibility of a baby. Bunny said he was shot a few years later by a jealous husband, but every time she thought about him she drank heavily. Dean hoped she wasn’t doing that tonight. Although tonight she had to go to work at her job as a waitress, so she wouldn’t be drinking.

“I’ll be back at ten. If I’m late, stay put. I’ll be here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And, champ, don’t worry. The girls will fall over themselves to dance with you.”

He wasn’t worried about other girls, only Claire. Her parents were wealthy, her father a lawyer, and Dean knew there was no way they’d be allowed to date. But tonight he was going to dance with her.

The moment he saw her, his stomach lurched, as it did every time he managed to catch a pass he thought was out of his reach. In a pink dress, with her blond hair hanging down her back, she reminded him of Cinderella, a ridiculous fairy tale Bunny used to read to him. Dean wanted to be Claire’s prince and that frightened him, because he’d never had thoughts like that before. He considered running out of the gym, but she walked over to him and all he could do was stare.

The music started and he took her hand. They did all the crazy moves, laughing and joking, and then a slow number came on. As he held her he knew he was in love. He was just a kid, but he still knew.

DEAN PACED.

Claire, where are you?

CLAIRE SHOVED HER KEY into the lock and opened the door at the lake house. The heat was stifling and she quickly turned on the air-conditioning. As cool air wafted from the vents, she carried her bag to a bedroom, though she didn’t know how long she was staying.

Long enough to accept her future.

She put the perishable foods she’d picked up at a convenience store in the refrigerator, and left the other groceries on the counter. Tugging on a pair of shorts and a tank top, she realized her body was already going through changes. A month ago the shorts fit fine. Now…She grabbed suntan lotion and hurried out to the pier. Their lot sloped down to the water’s edge. She sat cross-legged on the planks and methodically, without thinking, applied lotion to her arms, legs and face. Her fingers smoothed over a tiny lump of cellulite and she stopped. Damn! She was too old to have a baby.

What was she going to do? She wasn’t a frightened eighteen-year-old. As a mature woman who had learned to be strong, independent and resourceful, she should find this easy.

But it wasn’t.

Sunlight danced off the rippling water with a blinding array of sparks, warming and refreshing at the same time. She breathed in the clean air. Since it was Friday, the lake was busy with boats, skiers and swimmers, but their house was secluded in a cove among gnarled oak trees, away from the crowd. People were making the most of the last weekend before school started. Public schools, that is. College started the following Monday.

The afternoon sun heated her skin and her thoughts.

She was pregnant for the third time, at age forty-three.

All sorts of emotions engulfed her—denial, anger, confusion, defiance, anxiety and fear. How could she accept this? How could she not? She ran her hands up her arms as a feeling of déjà vu came over her.

At eighteen, she’d been frightened and worried. Being older didn’t change those feelings, except she was angry with herself because she knew better than to act so recklessly. She was angry with Dean, too.

The June trip to Cancun had been a celebration of Sami getting her master’s in education, their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and of finally getting out of debt. They were happy, and had enjoyed their time with the girls. Claire had forgotten to pack her diaphragm so Dean had bought condoms. They’d laughed about it, feeling young. Evidently it hadn’t worked—as it hadn’t twenty-five years ago.

The heat became unbearable so she strolled back to the house, where the air-conditioning cooled her heated emotions. After getting bottled water out of the refrigerator, she went into the bedroom and fished the letters out of her bag. Curling up on the sofa, she untied the worn ribbon and felt as if she was opening a part of her soul.

For a moment she just stared at the letters and wondered why they were so important to her. Every time she and Dean had moved, she’d tucked the letters in a safe spot.

Why?

She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because they depicted her dedication, her love and her accomplishments as a woman, as a wife and as a mother. Or maybe deep down she knew one day she would need them for guidance and inspiration.

For twenty-five years she’d tried to be the perfect wife and mother. When Sami started school, Claire became a teacher’s aide so she would be close in case the girls needed her. The family had also needed the money.

When she was growing up, her father had wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. That plan was derailed when she became pregnant in high school. But as Claire worked in the school system, her goal had changed. She loved working with kids, mostly the young ones, whose minds were waiting to unfurl with just the right incentives and the guidance of a caring teacher.

As those thoughts ran through her mind, Claire realized she’d forgotten about plans with two friends, Nita and Joan, for tomorrow. They were going to a spa for the works, to celebrate Claire’s return to college full-time. Then they were meeting the guys for dinner.

She reached for her cell, but just fiddled with it, unsure of what to say. “Guess what? I’m pregnant.” Even though her friends would understand, she wasn’t up to saying those words yet. When she was stronger, she’d call and cancel.

So many times she’d tried to go to college to get her degree, so she could teach instead of being an aide, but life’s crises kept getting in the way. Now that their youngest daughter had graduated, Claire was ready to embark on her own career, fulfill her dream.

But now…

She slipped a finger beneath the flap of an envelope. What had her life been about? What had kept her from getting her degree before now? As she unfolded a letter, her body trembled with old fears. Each page was filled with I love you’s and plans for the future. Wonderful plans that only a teenager could believe.

Jan 9, 1983

My darling Dean,

I haven’t seen you in two days and I feel alone, so I close my eyes and I can see you. Your dark hair curls into your collar and I remember the texture, the feel of it against my fingers. And I see your smile, that lazy grin that makes me warm all over. But your eyes are what comfort me. Those soft, caring blue eyes that tease me, tempt me and make me a little crazy. I love you so much…

In a trancelike state, she glanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the view of the lake. Her parents had forbidden her to see Dean. He wasn’t the type of boy she should be dating. His mother was a waitress and not up to the Thornton standards for friends and acquaintances. Dean had no future. He was a football jock who would be washed up before his time. Claire deserved better, her father had said, and though she might not agree then, she would thank him later.

As a teenager, those words hadn’t meant much to her. All she knew was how Dean made her feel. Ever since third grade she thought he was wonderful, even when he untied her bows. In junior high they’d become an item, and that had never changed all through high school.

They couldn’t date, but found ways to be together, especially after they started driving. Most of the time they talked, laughed and made out like other teenagers. In their senior year their emotions became heated and they gave in to temptation.

The first time was in Dean’s car after a dance. Claire cried and so did he, but it had been the most beautiful experience of her life. She and Dean were now part of each other and nothing could keep them apart.

In the weeks that followed they stole moments after football games, met in the park, after school and on weekends at their secret place—Dean’s house while his mother worked. It didn’t matter that they were sneaking around. They were together, that was all that was important. Until…

She’d missed her period and she was nervous. They’d been so careful. Another week and she knew she had to tell Dean.

March 10, 1983

CLAIRE HUNG AROUND the gym, trying not to bite her nails as she waited for basketball practice to end and then waited again while Dean showered and changed clothes. He came out of the locker room smiling, and all she wanted to do was kiss him.

“Hey. I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he said, walking toward her with his easy swagger in his letterman jacket and jeans.

“I have to talk to you.” She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice.

He took her arm and led her out of the gym to the parking lot. “What is it? Did your parents find out?”

She shook her head.

A couple of guys from the team came out and waved to them.

Dean pulled her close to his side. His masculine scent mingling with fresh soap did a number on her senses. “Well, then, everything’s okay. Let’s go some place where it’s quieter.”

With self-control she pushed away. “No. We’ve done too much of that.”

He frowned. “What? Make love?”

“Yes.” She looked directly at him in the glow of the parking lot lights.

“Claire.” He tried to take her in his arms and she stepped back.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was total silence. A car honked and a girl’s laughter carried on the wind.

He frowned. “What?”

“I missed my period and I know I’m pregnant. What are we going to do?”

“But how? We’ve used protection every time, and it’s been hell getting condoms. Jarrod’s older brother buys them and he charges me double. But at least I don’t have to go into a store to get them.”

“Evidently sometimes condoms don’t work.”

“God.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This can’t be happening.”

“I know. We had it all planned. You’re going to the University of Texas on a football scholarship and I’m enrolling there, too. We were finally going to be together without sneaking around.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. We’re both eighteen, so we’ll get married and continue with our plans.”

“On what? When my parents find out I’m pregnant, they’ll disown me. They don’t even know I’ve been seeing you.”

“Then we’ll make it on our own.”

“Dean, be realistic. We’ll have a child to raise and we’ll both have to find jobs.”

He slipped his arms around her and held her close. “Don’t panic. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you and the baby. I’m not running out on you like my dad ran out on my mom and me. First, make an appointment with the doctor and let’s find out for sure.”

She trailed her hands to the strong column of his neck, needing to touch his skin. She kissed his ear, his jaw, and felt his muscles tighten.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Cupping her face with both hands, he ran his tongue over her lips. “I love you, too. And we’ll face this together. If you’re pregnant, we’ll have to tell your parents.”

She winced. “It’s going to be an ugly scene.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her deeply and she clung to him.

The March wind blew against them, but they kept holding on to each other. Holding on to the now, the present, their love. In the days to come their love would be tested, and neither knew if it would survive the pressures of the outside world.

CHAPTER TWO

A Week Later…

THEY SAT IN THE DOCTOR’S office waiting for the result of the pregnancy test. Dean had skipped basketball practice, and Claire loved him all the more for that. She couldn’t face this alone.

The nurse called them into a small room and they waited some more.

“Are you nervous?” Dean asked, clutching Claire’s hand.

“A little.”

“Me, too.”

The doctor came in with a folder and sat at his desk.

“Dr. Miller, this is Dean Rennels, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, son.” They shook hands. “I’ve seen you play football. Very impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad you’re with Claire today.” He glanced at the contents in the folder. “The test is positive. You’re pregnant—about two months. The baby should be born in late September.”

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Dean turned a sickly white. The silence told its own story—two young people caught between love and reality, without a clue as to the difference.

Dr. Miller closed the folder. “I can see this is a shock. I always tell women they have three choices—abortion, adoption or acceptance. It’s your decision, Claire.”

Abortion! She couldn’t kill their baby. Nor could she give it up for adoption. That left acceptance. She swallowed hard, words congealing with the bile in her throat.

Dean stood. “We’re getting married, sir.”

“I see.” Dr. Miller looked at Claire. “Do your parents know this?”

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it until I do.”

The doctor fidgeted. “My wife was here the day you came in for the test. When she saw your mom at the club, she casually mentioned she’d seen you. Dorian spoke out of turn and I’m sorry for that. I would never divulge your situation.”

“How could she?” The Millers and her parents belonged to the same country club. Claire had seen the doctor’s wife that day and never dreamed she’d say anything to her mother. That was three days ago and her mom hadn’t said a word. Why?

“Dorian just thought you were in for a checkup. I’m so sorry.”

Claire rose on shaky legs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to remain a secret long.”

Once they were in the hall, she was shaking so violently that Dean pulled her into a small waiting area to sit down.

“Are you okay?”

She had to take several deep breaths. “What are we going to do?”

“Get married like we planned.”

“What about college?”

“We’ll manage.” He rubbed her arm and his touch instilled a sense of calm in her. “We’ll take one day at a time. I’ll get a marriage license as soon as possible.”

She blinked back a tear. Her parents had such dreams for their only child’s wedding. Through tears she looked at him. “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you.”

He winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan this, either.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad we’re keeping the baby,” he murmured.

“Could you live with yourself if we did anything different?”

“No.” His eyes caught hers. “We love each other. We’ll make it.”

“Do you believe love is enough?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I do, too.”

She placed her hand in his, along with her heart and her life. Together they walked out of the building. At her car he kissed her, and she knew they were going to be okay. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw her dad’s Lincoln.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“There’s my dad.”

The car screeched to a stop a few feet from them. Both her parents got out.

“Get away from my daughter,” Robert Thornton shouted at Dean, his face red with anger.

Dean didn’t budge. “Claire and I are getting married.”

“Like hell.” Robert loosened his tie and jerked it off.

“Dad, please,” Claire begged. “We’re in love and…and I’m pregnant.”

Her mother, Gwen, gasped.

“You bastard. I’ll kill you for this.” Robert took a step toward Dean, but Gwen caught his arm. “Robert, watch your temper.”

Her father sucked in a breath. “Get in the car, Claire.”

“Dad…”

“Get in the car or I’m calling the cops and having this bastard arrested. Your choice.”

“Please, Claire, let’s go home,” her mother pleaded.

There was nothing Claire could do. For now she had to follow her parents’ instructions. She looked back at Dean’s shattered expression and her heart broke. Would she ever see him again?

In the Thornton Home…

CLAIRE SAT LISTENING to everything she’d done wrong. A numbness settled over her body—a numbness of her spirit and her soul.

She wanted Dean.

She needed Dean.

“How could you, Claire? How could you do this?” her mother asked. “You have your whole life ahead of you and now…” Gwen shook back her blond hair. “I’m just appalled at your blatant disobedience. That boy has been a bad influence on you. You never disobeyed us before you met him.”

“I love him.”

“At your age you don’t even know what love is.” Gwen’s voice rose in anger. “I don’t understand how you can be so smart and yet so dumb.”

Before she could respond, her father came back into the room. “It’s all set for first thing in the morning.”

“What’s all set?” Claire asked.

“I’ve made arrangements to have the baby aborted.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “No!” she screamed.

“It’s for the best,” her mother said. “You can’t let this ruin your whole life. College is waiting for you. Later you can have all the children you want, and the wedding you’ve dreamed about. You’ll thank us then.”

Claire bit her lip to keep from screaming again and realized there was no point in talking to them. Their minds were made up. Slowly, she trudged upstairs. She curled up on her bed and cried for being so young and stupid.

And she cried for being in love.

After there were no tears left, she rallied her strength. No one was taking this baby from her. She phoned Dean.

“Claire, are you okay?”

“No. I have to get out of here. My father has made an appointment for an abortion in the morning.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No. After they’re asleep, I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

“But where will I go?”

“You can stay here with Mom and me. She might be a little ticked off, but she won’t kick us out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah. I know my mom.”

“Dean, I’m scared.”

“Me, too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hung up and reached for pad and pen and wrote Dean a letter, telling him how much she loved him. Putting her fears in writing helped to pass the time.

DEAN WAS WORRIED about Claire—it wasn’t like her to go somewhere without telling him. And why had she taken the letters? As he sat in the den, his mind went back to that first night she’d left home.

March 16, 1983

DEAN PICKED UP CLAIRE right before midnight on the corner of her street. They didn’t talk much. Neither knew if they were doing the right thing.

They made it to Bunny’s before she got home from work. Her shift ended at twelve. When he told his mother what had happened, she exploded, just as he knew she would.

“We’re planning on getting married,” he told her.

“And that’s supposed to solve everything.” In her black-and-white uniform, a pencil behind one ear, Bunny glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I thought I raised you better than this. Protection! I’ve drilled that into your head since you were fourteen years old.”

“We used protection, but it didn’t work. I love Claire and she loves me. I’m getting a marriage license tomorrow. We just need a place to stay.”

Bunny threw up her hands. “Champ, do you think it’s that easy? The Thorntons will be knocking down my door as soon as they discover Claire’s gone.”

“I’m not going back,” Claire said. “They want me to have an abortion.”

“What?” Bunny’s face turned almost as red as her hair.

“We can’t let that happen, Mom. Please help us.”

She rubbed the balls of her hands into her eyes. “Champ, that’s why I have to dye my hair. You’ve turned it almost completely white.”

“Then you’ll let us stay here?”

“Yes.” She pointed a red-tipped finger at Claire. “But you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

“She can have my bed.”

“Then you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

“Those are the rules, champ. And you had better prepare yourself for fireworks in the morning.”

Dean didn’t argue with Bunny. He was glad he and Claire could be together, or at least in the same place. He sat with her for a while and left her reading. Her suitcase was full of books, some of her favorites—Shakespeare, Dickens, Brontë, Austen, Alcott and many more.

Tossing and turning, he couldn’t get comfortable. It wasn’t the lumpy sofa, though. Facing the Thorntons weighed heavily on his mind.

Early the next morning the pounding on the door woke them. “Police, open up.”

Bunny came out of her room, her hair sticking out in all directions. “What the hell?”

Claire hurried out, still in her clothes. She hadn’t undressed and neither had Dean. The beat of his heart sounded like a cymbal in his ears. He reached for her hand and she trembled.

Bunny opened the door.

“Good morning, ma’am,” a police officer said. “I’m looking for Claire Thornton. Is she here?”

“Yes. I’m here,” Claire answered.

Bunny stepped aside. The officer, followed by the Thorntons, entered the house.

“Let’s go, Claire,” Robert said.

Claire shook her head. “No. I’m not going with you.”

“Yes, you are. The officer is here to see that you do.”

“I’m eighteen and I can make my own decisions.”

“Young lady,” the policeman said. “Just get your things and let’s go.”

“I can’t. They want me to have an abortion and I can’t do that.”

The officer looked at Robert.

“Do your damn job,” he snapped.

“I can’t force her. She’s eighteen.”

“I know the police chief.”

“Well, then, you better call him. I was under the impression the young lady was here against her will.”

“She is,” Gwen said. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“She seems fine to me.”

“Claire, come home. Please,” her mother pleaded. “If you insist on having the baby, we’ll send you up north. It can be adopted by a nice couple.”

Claire’s nails dug into Dean’s palm. “I’m keeping my baby.”

“I’m getting tired of this defiance, Claire,” Robert said, his face turning beet-red. “If you insist on this insanity, I wash my hands of you. Do you want your mother and me completely out of your life?”

Claire swallowed. “I know I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry, but I can’t change the way I feel. I’m having the baby.”

“That’s it,” Robert said in anger. “If you’re choosing him—” he flung a hand toward Dean “—over us, then you’re on your own. Don’t call us for money or anything. You’re no daughter of mine.”

“Robert.” Gwen grabbed his arm. “No.”

“I said that’s it. Let’s go.”

Gwen followed her husband and the officer out of the room. Claire whimpered deep in her throat. Dean held her tight as heartbroken sobs convulsed through her body. The sound tore at his gut like jagged glass. At that moment he grew up. He was eighteen years old and he was too young for fatherhood. He was too young for this kind of heartache. But he would shoulder it like a man.

DEAN DRAGGED HIS HANDS over his face. How he wished life had been easy after Claire had made that sacrifice, but it hadn’t. She’d worked two jobs, as a clerk at a department store and at night for a fast-food place. He put in countless hours at a record store. They lived with Bunny until practice started for college football. He and Claire moved into college housing and finally had their own place.

Claire carried most of the financial load, since he couldn’t play ball, work and go to school. There were times she didn’t feel well and she still went to work. He felt like the biggest louse that had ever been born. One day, he would make her life better, but there’d been so many obstacles in the way then….

Dean walked into the kitchen. Claire, where are you? He reread the note. She needed to get away. Why? Where did she go when she wanted peace and quiet?

The lake house.

He grabbed his car keys.

CLAIRE SAT CROSS-LEGGED, the letters in her lap. She opened another.

My darling Dean,

I’m so afraid I’m going to have the baby while you’re away on a road trip. I don’t know if I can do this by myself, but I’ll never tell you that. If the time comes and you’re not here, I’ll just close my eyes and picture your loving face, like I always do. I love you, and our baby is going to be perfect—just like you.

She closed her eyes and let herself relive a moment of that fear.

September 24, 1983

“YOU HAVEN’T TOLD DEAN, have you?” Bunny asked, stopping by the dorm to check on her. She always did that when Dean was away. Bunny, with her in-your-face attitude, was a hard person to get to know, but Claire had come to love her dearly.

Claire ran her hand over her protruding stomach. “No. I haven’t told Dean I’m having contractions.”

“He needs to be here.”

“He has a scholarship to play football and he can’t miss a game.”

“He’s also going to have a baby.”

Claire heaved a sigh. “I have to go to work.”

“What? You’re having contractions. What are you thinking?”

Claire kissed her cheek. “I’m thinking you worry too much.”

Bunny caught her arm. “Be reasonable…”

Claire held up a hand to stop her. “If the baby starts to come, the manager will call an ambulance.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Bunny stomped her foot. “Sometimes you love that son of mine too much!”

Smiling, Claire reached for her purse just as someone knocked at the door. Bunny quickly opened it. Gwen stood there.

“Mom.” Claire hadn’t seen her mother since the police tried to take her home. Robert had forbidden Gwen to contact her. Their plan was that Claire would see the error of her ways and return home. But it hadn’t happened.

“May I speak with you, please?” her mom asked.

Claire looked past her and didn’t see her father. That meant he didn’t know Gwen had come. Tears stung the back of Claire’s eyes. “I’m on my way to work,” she said abruptly.

Gwen paled. “In your condition?”

“Yes. We need the money.” She held up her head and forced the tears away.

Her mom reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. “Take this. I’ll bring more every week.”

Claire backed away. “Sorry. I can’t take your money. Dean and I are doing just fine.”

“Oh, yeah.” Gwen flung out a hand, the diamonds on her fingers sparkling. “He’s off having the time of his life while you’re here pregnant and working.”

“Please leave.”

“Claire, it’s not too late. You can give up the child for adoption and go on with your life. Remember how we talked about you joining my old sorority and—”

“Do you really think I could carry this child for nine months and just give it away?”

“Claire…”

“Please leave—now.” She was losing her temper and the tight rein she had on her emotions.

Gwen shoved the money at her. “Take it.”

“No thanks. Dean and I are doing fine.”

Her mother glanced around the small apartment. “I would hardly call this fine.”

Bunny stepped around Claire. “You’d better leave before I plant my foot in your snobby mouth.”

“How dare you?” Gwen spluttered.

“Mom, just leave,” Claire said, knowing her mother-in-law was getting angry.

Gwen whirled away and left.

As Bunny closed the door, she said, “She’s right, you know. You don’t need to be working.”

“Whose side are you on?” Claire slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and winced as a pain shot up her back.

“I don’t think you have to ask that.”

“No.” Bunny was unwavering in her support.

She studied Claire for a moment. “Stay home until the baby comes, and I’ll buy the groceries and pay the bills.”

Claire lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll work two shifts, right?”

“Done it before and I can do it again.”

Claire hugged her. “Thanks. But we’ll manage.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

At the fast-food place, she continued to have contractions. At times they were so bad she couldn’t concentrate. Her eyes were glued to the clock. The team was due to land at the airport at eleven. She couldn’t have the baby until Dean arrived.

At ten forty-five she collapsed into a ball of pain, and the manager called an ambulance.

The next thing she knew they were at the hospital. “Mrs. Rennels, are you ready to have this baby?” the doctor asked.

“No.” She hissed between contractions. “No. My husband’s not here.”

“I don’t think the baby’s going to wait.”

Bunny came running in. The manager had phoned her. “How are you, sugar?”

“Dean. I need Dean.” The words came out as a pathetic cry, but Claire couldn’t help it.

“I just spoke to him. He’s on his way from the airport.”

“Okay.” She could breathe normally now. Dean was coming.

A pain ripped through her abdomen, and it took all the strength she had not to push or scream or cry.

“Mrs. Rennels, it’s time to push,” the doctor said.

“I can’t. My husband’s not here. Please…” A wail erupted from her throat.

“Mrs. Rennels…”

Loud voices could be heard in the hall and then Dean came charging in. “Claire.” He kissed her face over and over. “Thank God I made it. I was so afraid…”

Claire let out a long breath. “Me, too.” She drew on her last ounce of strength. “Okay. I’m ready to have our baby.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dean placed their baby daughter into her arms. A feeling of pride and love suffused her. But a part of her grieved that her parents weren’t here to share this miracle. This precious gift.

“She’s so tiny,” she whispered weakly.

“And perfect,” Dean said with pride. “Ten toes. Ten fingers. And the most precious little face. She looks just like you. Absolutely beautiful.”

“You think so?”

“You bet. What are we going to name her?”

Claire studied the precious bundle in her arms. “How about Sarah Margaret? After Bunny. What do you think?”

“Oh, honey. Mom will be so excited. It’s perfect.”

“Yes…”

Fatigue overwhelmed Claire and her eyes drooped, but in that instant, with her baby in her arms and Dean smiling at her, she knew she’d made the right choice.

CHAPTER THREE

AS DEAN DROVE TOWARD Lake Travis, the bright Texas sun dimmed to twilight gray. Darkness would soon blanket the hills and Claire still hadn’t called. If she couldn’t get him at home, she’d try his cell. But so far nothing. He knew something was really wrong.

For once everything was right in their world. Both their daughters were on their own. Their youngest, Sami, already had a job at a school in the nearby town of Round Rock. Both girls had received the education Claire and Dean had wanted for them. And now Claire had the time he’d always wanted for her—time for herself—to earn that college degree.

Ten days and her dream would start becoming a reality. His own college days had been one big guilt trip. He’d been away at games, traveling, while Claire was at home working and taking care of a new baby.

It wasn’t long after Sarah was born that they noticed the wheezing. She was also phlegmy, with a constant cold and cough. At times she didn’t want to nurse. Claire was continually in the doctor’s office with her. The pediatrician kept her on antibiotics, and they worried about their baby taking so much medication.

Then the ear infections started, and Sarah was hospitalized twice for pneumonia. Claire got very little sleep because the baby needed lots of attention. That made her load heavier, but she’d never complained. Several nights Dean found her in the rocker, crying and holding Sarah. Claire was worried something was really wrong with their child and the doctors couldn’t find it. Dean was worried, too. He would sit and hold both of them until the morning light. That was all he could do, and at times he felt so helpless.

The first few months, Claire couldn’t work, and lost her jobs. His mother helped, and Dean tried to take care of Sarah at night. But Claire always seemed to be awake.

At times it was a struggle for Sarah to breathe. Claire did tons of research and insisted on a diagnosis. The doctor suspected she had asthma, but said Sarah was too little for him to know for sure. He said her airways were inflamed, and would heal with antibiotics and time.

That wasn’t good enough for Claire and Dean, and they immediately switched doctors. Sarah was put on a nebulizer machine for albuterol treatments. It plugged into the wall and had tubing and a mask that went over her nose and mouth. The medication went into the machine and Sarah breathed it in. They saw results almost immediately.

The new doctor agreed that Sarah had asthma, and said that some children grow out of it. But at least their baby was getting better. Dean and Claire were so relieved.

It was a hard time, however. Sarah also had allergies, and Claire washed her bedding every day to get rid of dust mites. They covered the mattress and pillows with allergy covers and gave away all her stuffed toys. Bunny bought a humidifier because they couldn’t afford to.

Once they adjusted to Sarah and her needs, life settled down. Claire started tutoring students so she could stay at home. The pay was very good and it worked out well.

Dean had heard it said that you can’t live on love, but during those first few years they had very little else.

CLAIRE STARED AT THE phone, wanting to call Dean. She needed to hear his voice, but she wasn’t ready to tell him yet. She had to continue to examine her life alone—to measure the sacrifices she’d made. Were they sacrifices or was that what love was?

She opened a letter—one she’d written while waiting for Dean to come home from a football game, a time she’d questioned that sacrifice.

Dean,

Sarah had one of those days. Nothing seems to help her breathing and she’s fussy. I feel so helpless…

The page blurred.

November 12, 1983

SARAH WAS SIX WEEKS OLD and Claire had been up with her most of the night. She was exhausted, her nerves frayed. She curled up in a rocker, trying to get Sarah to nurse, but the baby kept spitting out the nipple. Claire worried she wasn’t getting enough milk.

Texas was playing football and Claire flipped on the TV to watch her husband. Bunny came by to catch the game with her, and made popcorn. Claire was glad to have her company.

Just as Sarah went to sleep, Bunny yelled at the TV and the baby woke up.

“Sugar, I’m sorry. I get all excited when I see my boy getting bruised.”

“It’s okay.” Claire stood. “I’ll put her in her bed and maybe she’ll sleep for a while.”

“Why don’t you lie down, too, sugar?” Bunny suggested.

“Are you kidding? I want to watch Dean so I’ll know what he’s talking about when he tells me about the game.”

Sarah went to sleep quickly, and Claire hurried back to the living room. The game was tied, with less than ten seconds to play. The two women sat on the edge of their seats, biting their nails. Texas had the ball. The quarterback threw a long pass, and Claire and Bunny jumped to their feet, holding their breath as the pigskin sailed through the air. Dean leaped high in the end zone and dragged it in with the tips of his fingers. The fans went crazy and Claire and Bunny hugged, careful not to shout too loudly.

With the game over, fans poured onto the field. A reporter held a mike out to Dean and asked him a couple of questions. The noisy crowd prevented Claire from hearing him clearly, but she saw his smile—that lazy grin that turned her knees to pure sweet honey.

His sweaty hair hung across his forehead and he reached up to touch it, a signal to Claire that he was thinking about her. Smiling, she tugged her hair in response. The camera followed Dean as he jogged toward the locker room. A blonde grabbed him and kissed him. The reporter commented he hoped that was Dean’s wife.

But it wasn’t.

Claire sank into her chair, her joy dissipating. For the first time, she realized other women saw Dean as an attractive man, just as she did. The understanding left her in a state of shock. She should be there with him, sharing these moments of victory in his life. Instead she was home, feeling very left out.

Bunny caught the look on her face. “Sugar, don’t pay that any attention. It means nothing to Dean.”

For the first time, Claire wondered about that, too. “I don’t know, Bunny. I’m tired most of the time. Sarah spits up all over me and I smell like spoiled milk. I don’t feel very attractive.”

“Now you just stop thinking like that right now, do you hear me? Dean loves you and that little girl in there.”

“But don’t you think he’s flattered by the attention?”

“He’s a man, sugar. Of course he is, but I know my boy. His one thought now is to get back to you and Sarah.”

Claire wasn’t so sure. Life just seemed to be one jolt after another, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it together. Could her parents have been right? Was she too young to even know what true love was all about? No. She would never believe that. Not for one instant.

That night she lay in bed waiting for Dean. The game was out of town, so she knew it would be late when he came home.

She was half-asleep when she heard his key in the lock. A few minutes later, he slipped into bed beside her.

“Hey, beautiful.”

She wiggled in his arms. “I don’t feel beautiful.”

“What?” He turned on the bedside lamp. “What’s wrong?”

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she sat up. “I saw you kissing that girl.” Claire hated that she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

He caressed her cheek and she leaned her face into his hand, loving his gentle touch. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me, and I have no idea who she was.”

“Still…”

He reached for something on the nightstand. “I wrote this on the plane.”

Unfolding the paper, she read,

My sweet Claire,

Today I realized why I’m hooked on your kisses. They’re sweeter than watermelon wine and hotter than a hooker’s on Saturday night. No other woman can ever top that.

A bubble of laughter left her throat. “We’ve both had Bunny’s watermelon wine, but how do you know what a hooker’s kiss tastes like?”

He grinned. “Purely a guess.”

“Now I know why you made such awful grades in English.”

He gently laid her down. “There’s only one woman I want to kiss.” His lips trailed a line of fire from her neck to her jaw. When his mouth covered hers, any remaining doubts vanished. All she felt was happiness.

Looking into her eyes, he said, “I love you. Only you.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “You better. We have a baby to raise.”

He glanced at the crib. “I see she’s sleeping.”

“Yes, finally.”

“Tomorrow I’ll watch her and you can rest.” He rolled onto Claire. “But now we need some fun time.”

As he turned out the light she giggled like a schoolgirl. He wanted her. That’s what she needed to hear—to know. It was important to her as a woman.

But her faith in their love was tested once more.

When Sarah was six months old, Claire discovered she was pregnant again. She was on the pill, but something had gone wrong. Being up with Sarah so much, she was exhausted most of the time, and obviously had forgotten to take it. She cursed herself. She cursed Dean.

“God, this can’t be happening again,” he said when she told him.

“Well, it is. I can’t do this. I can’t handle two babies by myself. You’re gone all the time and I’m stuck here.”

She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She’d never dreamed she felt that way. But she did.

“I help, too.”

“Your mother helps. Most nights you’re out having fun.” Emotions too long bottled up came spilling out.

“Claire, that’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” she screamed. “I’m the one making all the sacrifices. I’m the one…” Anger consumed her and she tore out of the apartment.

“Claire,” Dean called, but she kept running.

She stopped in a small park on campus to catch her breath. Her head pounded with doubts, insecurities and with the reality of growing up. As an adult, wasn’t she supposed to be wiser? And wasn’t she supposed to have learned from her mistakes?

Sinking onto the grass, she wrapped her arms around her legs and watched as couples strolled hand in hand, oblivious to everything but each other. She and Dean had been like that, so much in love. Life and responsibilities were suddenly too much.

As Dean walked toward her, she scrambled to her feet. “Where’s Sarah?” she asked.

“Mom’s with her.”

“You always do that—call Bunny. Sarah is your responsibility, not your mother’s.”

He frowned. “I had to find you.”

Claire whirled away. “I can’t do this. I can’t have another baby. As soon as Sarah was better, I was planning to enroll for classes. Now…”

“What are you saying?”

She faced him. “I’m exhausted physically and emotionally. I…”

“I’m sorry you’re pregnant.” For the first time he seemed angry. “But you’re the one who forgot to take the pill.”

“Why is that my responsibility?”

He jammed both hands through his hair. “I don’t know. It just is.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be, because I’m lousy at it.”

His mouth twitched. “Honey…” He reached for her.

She backed away. “Don’t touch me. I can’t think when you do that.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know.” She paused, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. “I just want to feel happy again.”

“Claire, honey.” He wrapped his arms around her and she sagged against him. “I’m sorry life has been so hard.”

“I know.” She looked into his blue eyes. “Undo my bow.”

“What?”

“Undo my bow.”

Frowning, he yanked the ribbon that held back her blond hair, and it tumbled to her shoulders. She spun and took off running across the grass, her hair flying behind her. He caught her in less than ten seconds. Laughing, they whirled around as a light rain began to fall. They hardly noticed as they slowly began to dance, locked in each other’s arms. Raindrops pelted their heads, but they didn’t mind. They were young and in love and remembering how wonderful that felt.

“I love it when we dance—even without music,” he said, kissing her face.

The scent of rain mingled with the smell of him, and her heart brimmed with happiness. She’d lost it for a moment. “Me, too. I love you.”

He stopped moving and cupped her face, his thumbs making wet circles on her cheeks. “I love you with all my heart.”

She smiled, blinking in the rain. “We’re having another baby,” she whispered, feeling his love—the love that made her happy and complete.

“Yes.” He kissed her softly. “You okay?”

“I am now.” She took his hand. “Let’s go home.”

DEAN DROVE UP to the lake house and saw Claire’s car. She was here. The heat of the day had subsided and a sticky warmth prevailed. But it was fresh, not contaminated with gas fumes or other foul city emissions.

He could barely see the house in the darkness, but he knew exactly what it looked like—brown cedar Hardiplanks with a wood deck on the front and the back. The interior was small, with two bedrooms, one bath and a combination kitchen and large den that overlooked the lake.

It had taken every resource they had to swing buying the place. Claire had made another sacrifice. She’d put off going to college so they could afford two house payments. He didn’t want her to, but Claire had insisted. That’s the way she was—always putting her family first.

The girls loved it here, but he wondered how often they’d come back now. Sarah was very studious, like her mother. She was doing an internship in law. Soon she’d take the bar. Samantha was more like him—an athlete. Tennis was her sport, and she was very good, an ace player in high school and college. She would now be teaching physical education and coaching tennis.

Memories swirled around him. He’d wanted to give Claire the world, but he’d busted up his leg in his senior year, and although it had healed, he knew he had to think about her and the girls. He had to be home for them, so he forgot his dream of playing pro football and took a job teaching and coaching.

He was now the head coach and athletic director at a high school. The last four years he’d been building a great team, and if everything fell into place as he’d planned, they were going to win the state championship again this year. Football was in his blood and probably always would be.

Just as Claire was.

Through the window, he could see her sitting on the sofa, the letters strewn around her. At forty-three she still looked beautiful, a gorgeous blonde with soft brown eyes. She had a kind heart and a sweet nature. That’s probably what he loved most about her. And she made him feel young, powerful and all male. Her breasts were fuller now, as were her hips, and she could still heat him up just as quickly as she had back then.

Back then…they’d been through so much. But in truth Claire had been through so much more than him.

December 26, 1984

CHRISTMAS WAS MEAGER at their house. He’d given Claire earrings and she’d bought him a pullover sweater. They’d spent the day at Bunny’s. Sarah was struggling to breathe and wanted only Claire to hold her. Dean took care of Sami, but he couldn’t nurse her, so he had to hand the baby to her, too. Claire was exhausted and he became more aware of that than ever, maybe because he was with them the whole day.

The next day he started practice for the upcoming bowl game. That evening when he came home, Claire was sitting on the living room floor nursing Sami in one arm while Sarah nestled into her side with a breathing mask over her nose and mouth, taking a treatment. Claire’s hair hung limply around her shoulders, sour milk stained her blouse and she looked as tired as he’d ever seen her.

He quickly sank down by her and took Sarah and finished the treatment. As he held his little girl, patting her back, she went to sleep. He carried her into their bedroom and laid her in her crib.

The apartment was cramped, with one bedroom, a living area and kitchen combination, and a small bathroom. He and Claire had a crib on each side of their bed, and that was a problem. She wasn’t getting any sleep.

As he returned to the living room, he saw Sami was through nursing. He scooped her out of her mother’s arms and burped her.

Claire’s head fell back against the cushions. “I’m so tired,” she murmured.

Dean carried Sami to her crib and within minutes she was asleep. After partially closing the door, he went back to Claire. He gathered her into his arms and placed her on the sofa.

Kissing her gently, he said, “Just go to sleep, honey.” He reached for an afghan and covered her.

She snuggled into the cushions. “Don’t let me sleep too long.”

“I won’t.”

He turned off the lights and watched her for a moment before he made his way to the bedroom and closed the door. Both babies awoke during the night. He changed them, and gave Sarah a bottle after which she went back to sleep. But Sami was different. He carried her to Claire, who nursed her without really waking up.

Early the next morning he got up, made breakfast, then took it to Claire on a tray.

She stirred, glanced around and quickly sat up. “Where are the girls?”

“Asleep.”

She yawned. “What time is it?”

“About six.”

Her eyes went wide. “You let me sleep all night?”

“Yep. And here’s breakfast.” He pointed to the tray. “Scrambled eggs, toast and your favorite orange marmalade.”

“Oh, my. I feel like a queen.”

He sat beside her and took her into his arms. “You’re my queen.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “You have practice today and I know you had to get up with the girls.”

“I can go on very little sleep.” He kissed the side of her face. “Football season will be over in a week, and classes won’t start for a couple more weeks. I’ll be here to help out more.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

He just held her and stared at the small Christmas tree they’d positioned on an end table. They had to put it up high because Sarah was walking and she’d pull it over in no time. Claire had decorated it with red bows and shiny balls, along with their special first Christmas ornament and this year’s new ornament. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. Staring at the sparse tree, he vowed one day he would give her everything.

But “one day” always seemed to be out of his reach.

DEAN CONTINUED TO WATCH Claire through the window, and as he did, a frisson of fear shot through him. Why was she reading the letters? Could it just be nerves? Or was it something more? Suddenly he had to know.

He opened the door and stepped in.

“DEAN.” Claire wasn’t expecting him, and for a moment she was speechless.

“I was worried about you.” He moved some letters and sat beside her, kissing her cheek. “Feeling better?”

“Mmm. How did you know where to find me?”

“A lucky guess.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and her heart contracted. He was so handsome. Threads of gray shone in his dark hair and his features were leaner, more mature. She loved him so much, but how were they going to get through this? How was she going to tell him?

“You didn’t have to come. I’m fine. I just needed some fresh air.” It was the first time she’d lied to him.

“Do you think you have the flu?”

“I’m not sure.” She bit her lip to keep from telling another lie. “Did you get Bunny settled?”

“Yes. She’s all moved in.”

“She should be living with us. We have room.” When Dean had gotten a job teaching, they’d bought their first house. Claire loved the older homes on the tree-lined boulevards in the old Tarrytown area near the heart of central Austin, so they’d bought a two-story Victorian that had been built in the early 1900s. After they renovated, it was the perfect home, roomy and with lots of character. They still lived there.

Dean shrugged. “You know how Mom is. She likes her independence. And she said we need some time alone. We’ve never had that.”

“Mmm.” Claire glanced at the letters, feeling her chest close up. It wasn’t going to happen now, either. How did she tell him that once again she’d screwed up? Although she wasn’t sure why she was blaming herself. Dean was involved, too.

He followed her glance. “Why are you reading the letters?”

She swallowed. “To remember—the good and the bad. To remember dreams that don’t come true.”

“Claire, your dream is coming true.”

“I…” Her throat locked because of what she had to say.

“I know you’re nervous about college, about attending classes with students younger than your daughters. You’ll be fine, though.”

“Don’t try to pacify me.” The words came out angry, though she didn’t mean them to.

There was silence—a strained silence, which was rare. They could always talk about anything. But now…

Dean pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against him. “What’s going on, Claire? Why did you just leave like that?”

“I wanted some time to think. That’s all.” Lazily, she drew circles on his T-shirt. She had to tell him.

“About what?”

She drew back and slowly raised her eyes to his. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a noticeable pause.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He gave a fake laugh. “No. No way.”

“Really?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Remember Cancun and I forgot my diaphragm so we used a condom? Guess what? It didn’t work—again.”

He sprang to his feet. “It’s just nerves. You can’t be pregnant.”

She held up the letters. “I remember thinking that twice before.”

“I refuse to believe it. You’ve been on an emotional high getting ready for college. That’s all it is.”

“I know when I’m pregnant.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“No.”

“Well, then…”

“You can keep batting excuses through the air, but it’s not going to change a thing. I’m pregnant.”

As the words finally sank in, he closed his eyes as if he was in pain. “Oh, God, not again. Not now.”

“That’s why I wanted this time alone, to think about what to do.”

His eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”

“I have choices.”

“You mean…”

“I don’t know what I mean. I’m trying to accept this, trying to let go of that foolish college dream. But right now I’m stuck in anger mode. This time I want to take the easy way out and I can’t even believe…”

“What can’t you believe?”

She licked her dry lips, knowing she had to tell him what she’d done. “This morning when I realized what was wrong with me, I bought a pregnancy test. It confirmed what I suspected.” She swallowed. “Then I…I drove to the Planned Parenthood Clinic. I’m a woman. I have rights. And I wasn’t letting my dream slip away again. All I could think about was myself.”

“And?”

“I sat in the car praying for strength, and suddenly it felt like God slapped me in the face. I was thinking about killing our baby without even talking to you. I can’t believe I did such a thing.”

“Claire, honey.” He moved toward her.

“No. Don’t come near me or I might strangle you.”

He paled.

“I’m sorry. I have to sort through everything I’m feeling…alone.”

“But you’re not in this alone. It’s my child, too.”

She looked directly at him. “Yes, but your forty-three-year-old body will not be giving birth. Your dream will not be snatched from you again.”

“You can still go to college and be pregnant. A woman can do it all.”

“I don’t want someone else raising my child.”

“I’ll help.”

“Football practice has already started and your time at home is limited. That limits your help, too. And you’re hoping to get a college coaching job.”

“I’ll turn it down.”

She groaned. “Oh, yeah, guilt is just what I need.”

“Claire…”

“I’m the mother. I’m the one who will do all the work, the one to make all the sacrifices.”

“I made sacrifices, too. I gave up a pro football career.”

“You didn’t give it up. You injured your knee.”

“I still had offers.”

“What?” The color drained from her face. “You weren’t taken in the draft and you never mentioned any offers.”

“Because I knew it was time for me to be at home for you and the girls.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You kept it from me? Did you think I was so weak that I couldn’t take the news?”

“You’re the strongest woman I know and it was so long ago I don’t know why we’re talking about it.”

“Because you kept it from me as if I was some dependent, fragile wife who needed you at home.”

“Claire, I turned it down for two reasons.” He held up one finger. “I wanted to be home.” He held up another finger. “Because of my injury I would have been second string, and that wasn’t acceptable to me.”

She glanced down at her hands, some of her anger leaving her. “That must have hurt.”

“Not really. I had to put my family first.” He took another step toward her. “Honey, we can work this out.”

“Probably,” she said. “But I need some time to accept the pregnancy graciously and with love—the same deep love with which I accepted Sarah and Sami.” She wasn’t sure why she was fighting for time or why she was arguing with Dean. Maybe she blamed him. She needed to come to terms with that, too.

“So what are you actually saying?”

“I’m saying you go home and I’ll stay here.”

He paled even more. “You want us to separate?”

“Yes. For now. College starts in ten days and by then I’ll know if I’m going to go or not.”

“I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.”

“I don’t either. All I know is that I have to keep remembering, reading the letters to experience that deep well of commitment and love I had then. I have to let go of the dream with dignity and not blame it on a precious, innocent baby.” She blinked back a tear. “We’ll be in our sixties when this child graduates from high school. Can you handle that? I’m not sure I can.”

“Claire…”

“I’m just being honest, and I hate myself for the selfish things I’m thinking. At this moment I hate everything.”

He swallowed visibly. “Do you hate me?”

She looked at him. “I’ve loved you forever. I love your smile, your kind heart, your compassion and caring, even the gray in your hair. I love everything about you, but I’m not feeling any of that love right now.”

“You will. The Claire I love can deal with anything.”

“Maybe this is the one thing she can’t.”

“I’ll never believe that.”

“Dean.” She sighed. “Go home and let me sort through this.”

“We’ve never been apart.”

“Yes, we have. It just never felt like it.”

He blew out a hard breath. “I don’t guess I have a choice.”

“No.”

He pointed to the letters. “Read every one of those and you’ll feel our love again. We can overcome anything, even having a child at our age.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. She breathed in his scent and forced herself not to respond.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

“No, don’t. I’ll phone when I’m ready to talk.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

“Dean,” she called as he turned away. He quickly glanced at her. “Please cancel our plans for tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“Tell Nita and Joan I’ll call them later.” She was passing the buck, but she couldn’t handle a conversation with anyone.

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” Slowly, he walked out of the lake house.

She wanted to call him back, but that wouldn’t solve anything. As the door closed, she knew their lives were changing, and she didn’t feel it was for the better.

They loved each other. There was no doubt in her mind about that. To save her marriage she had to feel that forever kind of love she’d felt at eighteen.

How did she do that when she felt empty, afraid and lost within herself? There was only one thing she knew to do.

She picked up a letter.

CHAPTER FOUR

November 26, 1986

BUNNY INSISTED on watching the girls so Claire could make one of the home games. She sat in the stadium, her eyes on her husband. To her he was the best player on the field. She stood and cheered when he caught the ball. She bit her nails when it seemed to go right through his hands.

Suddenly a crashing tackle left him lying on the turf, writhing in pain, his leg bent at a strange angle. Jumping to her feet, she made her way to the field, her heart thumping so hard it was about to pound out of her chest.

As she reached the sidelines, an official stopped her.

“That’s my husband,” she cried, as the medical staff crowded around Dean.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”

An ambulance backed into the stadium and she broke away. No one was keeping her away from him. Another official caught her before she reached him, but she jerked free, running to where Dean lay on a stretcher.

She fell to the turf by his side. “I’m here, honey.”

“Claire—”

She stroked his face. “Shh.”

The paramedics picked up the stretcher and she crawled into the ambulance with him. No one tried to stop her. She rode to the hospital holding his hand. He was in a lot of pain and tried not to show it.

“Claire…”

“Hush. You’ll be okay.” But she wasn’t so sure. His leg wasn’t straight and had soon swollen to three times its normal size.

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