The Sooner the Better
Page 39

Her relationship with Azucena, too, had grown into one of affection and mutual assistance.
Alberto, her youngest half brother, had made a full recovery. The chubby toddler was her greatest joy. His round happy face lit up with delight when he saw her. He would dash cheerfully to her side, knowing she’d lift him high in the air, and his infectious laughter would echo through the house.
In some ways it was as if these cherished little ones were Lorraine’s own children. The family she would never have with Jack. He’d shown her how much love her heart could hold, and now that love spilled over, embracing her young brothers.
In the stillness of late afternoon Lorraine sat at her desk and finished up the last of her paperwork. The door opened, and half expecting Antonio and Hector, she set her pen aside.
“I’m in the office,” she called out in Spanish.
When no one answered, Lorraine got up and walked to the door. She kept regular hours, but didn’t hesitate to see a patient after closing time. She stepped into the waiting area and saw a man framed in sunlight, standing just inside the clinic door. But this wasn’t a man—it was a ghost.
The ghost of Jack Keller.
One so real, so lifelike, it was all she could do to keep from running into his arms. Reaching for a chair, she clenched her fingers over the top to anchor herself. All the while she greedily drank in the sight of him.
Dear heaven, he seemed so real!
Her heart pounded wildly. Fear coursed through her, although she believed this particular ghost would never hurt her. Her concern was for her sanity. She was afraid that somehow, some way, her mind had slipped. That loving Jack with such intensity had pushed her beyond reason.
Or perhaps she’d been working too hard, she thought in those first shock-filled seconds. Spending too many hours at the clinic. Not taking enough time for herself.
Could Jack be real? Could he possibly be alive? Had God and the universe made some horrible mistake? Had Jack been sent back to her to make it right?
She yearned to say his name, to call out to him. To bring this dream to life. And yet she feared that if she spoke he might disappear.
Not yet. Please not yet. Let me have him for a few minutes more. But finally she couldn’t bear not knowing any longer.
“Jack?” His name trembled on her lips.
His features relaxed and his eyes softened as he walked toward her. With exquisite tenderness he pressed his palm to her cheek. His hand felt warm and solid, and for an instant Lorraine thought she might faint.
Needing to hold on to him, she covered his hand with her own and urged his palm toward her lips, where she planted a single kiss.
“Oh, Raine.” He caught her by the shoulders and his mouth swept down on hers as though waiting another moment was more than could be asked of him.
She’d dreamed of this so often, it was difficult to know if it could actually be happening. If this was a dream, she didn’t intend on waking anytime soon.
She wound her arms around his neck and, leaning into him, kissed him back. Hunger and urgency, love and need. They blended until coherent thought escaped her. She and Jack strained against each other, mouths seeking, their passion fierce. She buried her fingers deep in his hair and held tight, almost as if that might prevent him from leaving her again.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered, desperate for answers. “Tell me, please. Is this really happening?”
He lifted his face from hers and closed his eyes. “It’s real, Raine, it’s real. I’m here. I’m alive.”
Sobbing, choking, hardly able to breathe, she clung to him, her hands digging into his shoulders. It wasn’t possible. Dr. Berilo had told her Jack was dead. He’d sat with her, comforted her. Jack’s presence here, now, was beyond comprehension.
“I’m sorry,” Jack repeated between kisses. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he whispered again and again.
“What happened?” she pleaded, needing answers and yet fearing them, too. Still, her desire for the truth overcame her fears. “Tell me,” she demanded. “I need to know.”
He found a chair, then sat her down and kneeled in front of her. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before cradling her face with his hands.
“Jack, please. Tell me!”
An eternity came and went before he spoke. “I thought you were married.”
That didn’t explain why Dr. Berilo had told her Jack was dead.
“You loved me,” he whispered. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
She felt lost in a fog, not understanding where she’d taken the wrong turn, how this could have happened. Love should have brought them together, not driven them apart. Love was meant to be a bond.
“And I loved you enough to convince Dr. Berilo to tell you I’d died.”
She closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning out of control.
“I loved you enough to keep from ruining your life.”
“Loved,” she said. “Past tense?” She didn’t know who to blame—herself for the initial lie or Jack for being so noble.
His answer was to draw her toward him for another kiss. “Past, present, future and every tense in between. I had to prevent you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“But I’m not married!” she protested.
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
And it was her fault for not telling him.
“I didn’t know,” he said again. “You wore a wedding band, so I assumed, reasonably enough, that you were married.”
And when he’d asked her for the name of her husband, she’d given him Gary’s. It hit her then, the gravity of what she’d done. Because of her one small lie, they’d wasted eighteen months of their lives. His own lie had robbed them, too, but Lorraine accepted full responsibility. The blame was hers.
The sobs began, welling up from deep within her. She wept as if she would never stop, as if regret and sorrow had overwhelmed her.
“I know, I know,” he murmured, pulling her close.
She came into his arms and he wiped away her tears. She grew quiet, exhausted from crying, and then passion flared between them again, the way it had that day in Mexico City. By the time the kissing ended, neither could speak.
They held on to each other for a long time, until Jack finally said, “About this business of having a husband?”
“Yes?”
“As soon as we can arrange it, that part will be true.”
Twenty
Lorraine read the text a second time, trying to clear her thoughts. Concentrating on her studies was difficult because she was so anxious for Jack’s return. The wonderful news about the baby bubbled up inside her and spilled out in giggles every few minutes. She couldn’t help it—but she really did need to study for an important chemistry exam the following day.
True to his word, Jack had her at the altar less than a week after his arrival in El Mirador. Father Garcia had performed the ceremony. Thomas and Azucena stood up for them and the entire town of El Mirador had celebrated. Even now, nearly two years later, Lorraine had trouble taking it all in. Most of the people in the small waterfront village were very poor, but they had an abundance of love and generosity. Lorraine’s wedding to Jack was the perfect opportunity for them to show her how much they appreciated the clinic.
Table upon table of food had been set up in the town square, and small homemade gifts were lovingly offered to her and Jack. The wedding celebration had gone late into the evening and Jack had been forced to steal her away, to the cheers and laughter of the entire town.
Their honeymoon was incredible. Lorraine’s heart smiled each time she remembered what had proved to be the most marvelous week of her life. Jack had docked a newly purchased cabin cruiser near a small uninhabited island off the Yucatán Peninsula, not far from El Mirador. They’d spent their days swimming and snorkeling, exploring the colorful coral reef, and their nights…their nights had been spent exploring each other.
That she could actually be in Jack’s arms and love him this completely—it was a gift she’d never expected to receive. In those early days their lovemaking had been frantic, as if they feared that being together couldn’t last. He held her close afterward and they clung to each other. Almost always she’d weep in his arms in sheer wonder and joy. Jack seemed to understand her need to cry following their lovemaking. She cried for all the long lonely months they’d wasted. For the miracle of being together now.
In the weeks after their honeymoon they had long talks about the future. Increasingly Lorraine had become aware that what El Mirador and the surrounding villages needed was a fully qualified physician. Jack had encouraged her to reapply for medical school, to finish the education she’d cut short.
It was Gary Franklin who’d told her about a retiring general practitioner who was looking for volunteer work. He’d been considering the Peace Corps. Lorraine wrote him and told him about the clinic—now renamed The Virginia Dancy Medical Center—and he’d come down with his wife for a two-week visit. Lorraine knew the moment she met Dr. Samuel Wetmore that he’d be a perfect choice to replace her while she earned her credentials. After taking a crash course in Spanish, he’d traveled to El Mirador and worked with her until Lorraine received word that she’d been accepted into her third year of medical school at the University of Kentucky.
She and Jack had been living in Lexington during that time, with frequent visits to El Mirador. Now her schooling was almost over—and she was pregnant. The baby shouldn’t have been a surprise to either of them, but Lorraine had been stunned at the news. Her shock had soon turned into the purest joy.
She didn’t know how she could possibly concentrate when all she wanted to do was dance around the apartment.
Lorraine heard the door open and knew Jack was home at last.
He’d barely made it over the threshold when she flew out of the study and hurled herself into his arms. Before he could ask, she had him pinned against the door and involved in a series of deep hungry kisses.
They were both breathing hard by the time she finished.
“To what do I owe this greeting?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
Lorraine kissed the underside of his jaw. “Because you’re wonderful.”
“That’s true,” he murmured.
“And virile,” she added, and started to unbutton his shirt. “That, too.”
“And potent.”
“So it’s been said.” He paused suddenly in the task of unbuttoning her blouse. His gaze met hers, and he frowned. “Exactly what do you mean by potent?”
Lorraine led him into the bedroom. “You don’t know?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, she kissed him and undressed him at the same time. His own hands were busy removing her clothes.
Soon they were on the bed, their mouths greedily seeking and finding each other, their bodies on fire with need. She opened herself to him—her heart, her future, all her being—and sighed with immense satisfaction as he slowly linked their bodies. Although he’d been brutally injured in the fall from the cliff, the muscles of his back and shoulders remained firm and hard. Her fingertips roamed his skin, and she traced his scars, each one a badge of courage.