still in high school."
She could have leaped up on the bed and danced. "Since I was in high
school? All this time?"
"Yeah, all this time. Then you were in love with somebody else, so I
didn't have any right to feel anything but friendship."
She let out a careful breath, because it would be a confession that
shamed her. "I was never in love with anybody else. It was always you."
"Jack--"
"I never loved him, and everything that went wrong between us was more
my fault than his. I let him be the first man to touch me because I
never thought you would. And about the time I realized how foolish that
was, I was pregnant."
"You can't say it was your fault."
"Yes, I can." To keep her hands busy, she began to tidy the bed. "I knew
he wasn't in love with me, but I married him because I was afraid not
to. And for a while I was ashamed, angry and ashamed." She lifted a
pillow, tucked it into its case. "Until one night when I was lying in
bed thinking my life was over, and I felt this fluttering inside me."
She closed her eyes, pressed the pillow against her. "I felt Aubrey, and
it was soa so huge, that little flutter, that I wasn't ashamed or
angry anymore. Jack gave me that." She opened her eyes again and
carefully laid the pillow on the bed. "I'm grateful to him, and I don't
blame him for leaving. He never felt that flutter. Aubrey was never real
to him."
"He was a coward, and worse, for leaving you weeks before the baby was
born."
"Maybe, but I was a coward, and worse, for being with him, for marrying
him when I never had a fraction of the feeling for him that I did for
you."
"You're the bravest woman I know, Grace."
"It's easy to be brave when you have a child depending on you. I guess
what I'm trying to tell you is that if I made a mistake, it was in going
so long without letting you know I loved you. Whatever feelings you have
for me, Ethan, are more than I ever thought you would have. And that's
enough."
"I've been in love with you for the best part of ten years, and it's
still not enough."
She'd picked up the second pillow, and now it slipped out of her hands.
When tears swam into her eyes, she closed them, squeezed tight. "I
thought I could live without ever hearing you say that. Now I need to
hear you say it again so I can get my breath back."
"I love you, Grace."
Her lips curved, her eyes opened. "You sound so serious, almost sad when
you say it." Wanting to see him smile again, she held out a hand. "Maybe
you should practice."
His fingers had just touched hers when the screen door slammed
downstairs. Feet pounded on the stairs. Even as they jerked apart, Seth
raced down the hall. He skidded to a halt at the door to his room, then
stood, stared.
He glanced at the bed, the sheets not quite smoothed out, the pillow on