“Ms. O’Ballivan? My name is Bryce McKenzie and I—”
Ashley shifted the telephone receiver from her left ear to her right, hunching one shoulder to hold it in place, busy rolling out pie dough on the butcher’s block next to the counter. “I’m sorry, Mr. McKenzie,” she said, distracted, “but we’re all booked up for Valentine’s Day—”
The man replied with an oddly familiar chuckle. Something about the timbre of it struck a chord somewhere deep in Ashley’s core. “Excuse me?” he said.
“The bed-and-breakfast—I guess I just assumed you were calling because of the publicity my website’s been getting—”
Again, that sense of familiarity flittered, in the pit of Ashley’s stomach now.
“I’m Jack McKenzie’s brother,” Bryce explained.
McKenzie. The name finally registered in Ashley’s befuddled memory, the one Jack had admitted leaving behind so long ago. “Oh,” she said, stretching the phone cord taut so she could collapse into a kitchen chair. “Oh.”
“I probably shouldn’t be calling you like this, but—well—”
“Is Jack all right?”
Bryce McKenzie sighed. “Yes and no,” he said carefully.
Ashley put a floury hand to her heart, smearing her T-shirt with white finger marks. “Tell me about the ‘no’ part, Mr. McKenzie,” she said.
“Bryce,” he corrected. And then, after clearing his throat, he explained that Jack had needed a bone marrow transplant. The patient was up and around, and he was taking antirejection drugs, but he didn’t seem to be recovering—or regressing—and his family was worried.
They’d had a family meeting, Bryce concluded, one Jack hadn’t been privy to, and decided as a unit that seeing Ashley again might be the boost he needed to get better.
Ashley listened with her eyes closed and her heart hammering.
“Where is he now?” she asked, very quietly, when Bryce had finished.
“We live in Chicago, so he’s here,” he answered. “There’s plenty of room at my dad’s place, if you wanted to stay there. I mean, if you even want to come in the first place, that is.”
Ashley’s heart thrummed. Valentine’s Day was a week away and she had to be there to greet her guests, make them comfortable—didn’t she? This was her chance to take the business to a whole new level, make some progress, stay caught up on her payments to Brad and fortify her faltering savings.
And none of that was as important as seeing Jack again.
“I think,” she said shakily, “that if Jack wanted to see me, he would have called himself.”
“He wants to make sure he’s going to live through this first,” Bryce answered candidly. Then, after sucking in an audible breath, he added, “Will you come? It could make all the difference in his recovery—or, at least, that’s what we’re hoping.”
Ashley looked around her kitchen, cluttered now with the accoutrements of serious cooking. The freezer was full, the house was ready for the onslaught of lovers planning a romantic getaway.
How could she leave now?
How could she stay?
“I’ll be there as soon as I can book a flight,” she heard herself say.
“One of us will pick you up at O’Hare,” Bryce said, his voice light with relief. “Just call back with your flight number and arrival time.”
Ashley wrote down the cell numbers he gave her and promised to get in touch with him as soon as she had the necessary information.
“This is crazy,” she told Mrs. Wiggins, as soon as she’d hung up.
“Meooow,” Mrs. Wiggins replied, curling against Ashley’s ankle.
Having made the decision, Ashley was full of sudden energy. She made airline reservations for the next day, flying out of Flagstaff, connecting in Phoenix, and then going on to Chicago. When that was done, she called Bryce back.
“You’re sure Jack wants to see me?” she asked, having second thoughts.
“I’m sure,” Bryce said, with a smile in his voice.
The next call was to Melissa, at her office, and Ashley was almost panicking by then. The moment Melissa greeted her with a curious “Hello”—Ashley never called her at work—the whole thing spilled out.
Ashley held her breath, after the spate of words, awaiting Melissa’s response.
“I see,” Melissa said cautiously.
“I might be back before Valentine’s Day,” Ashley blurted, anxious to assuage her sister’s misgivings about Jack, “but I can’t be absolutely sure, and I need you to cover for me if necessary.”
“I don’t know beans about running a bed-and-breakfast,” Melissa said gamely, “much less cooking. But I’ll be there, Ash. Get your bags packed.”
Tears burned Ashley’s eyes. She could always count on Melissa, on any member of her family, to come through in a pinch. Why had she doubted that, even for a moment? “Thanks, Melissa.”
“You’ll have to send the cat to Olivia’s place,” Melissa warned, though her tone was good-natured. “You know how my allergies flare up when I’m around anything with fur.”
“I know,” Ashley said sweetly, “that you’re a hypochondriac. But I love you anyway.”
“Gee, thanks,” Melissa replied. “No cat,” she clarified firmly. “The deal’s off if Olivia won’t take him.”
“Her,” Ashley said, smiling. “How many male cats do you know with the name ‘Mrs. Wiggins’?”
“I don’t know any cats, whatever the gender,” Melissa answered, “and I don’t want to, either.”
Ashley grinned to herself. “I’m sure Olivia will cat-sit,” she conceded. “One more thing. Could you serve punch at the Valentine’s Day dance? I promised and I did all this baking and I’m not sure I’ll be back in time—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Melissa said. “Yes, if it comes to that, but you’d better do your darnedest to be home before the first guests arrive. I mean well, but we’re taking a risk here. I’m not the least bit domestic, remember, and I could put you out of business without half trying.”
Ashley laughed, sniffled once. “I promise I’ll do my O’Ballivan best,” she said. “Have you seen Dan yet?”
“No,” Melissa said, “and don’t mention his name again, if you don’t mind.”
After the call ended, Ashley wrestled her one and only suitcase down from the attic—she rarely traveled—and set it on her bed, open.
Mrs. Wiggins immediately climbed into it, as though determined to make the journey with her mistress.
“Not this time,” Ashley said, gently removing the furball.
The next dilemma was, what did a person pack for a trip to Chicago in the middle of winter?
She decided on her trademark broomstick skirts, lightweight tunic sweaters, and some jeans, for good measure.
When she called Starcross Ranch, hoping to speak to Olivia, Tanner answered instead. Ashley asked if Mrs. Wiggins could bunk in for a few days.
“Sure,” Tanner said, as Ashley had known he would. But he also wanted an explanation. “Where are you off to, in such a hurry?”
Tanner was Jack’s friend, and he’d surely been as worried about him as Ashley had. Although it was possible that the two men had been in touch, her instincts told her they hadn’t.
Ashley drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and hoped she was doing the right thing by telling Tanner. And by jetting off to Chicago when Jack hadn’t asked her to come.
“Jack’s in Chicago,” she said. “He’s had a bone marrow transplant—something to do with the toxin—and his family is worried about him. He’s not getting worse, but he’s not getting better, either.”
Tanner murmured an exclamation. “I see,” he said. “Jack didn’t call you himself?”
“No,” Ashley admitted, her shoulders sagging a little.
Tanner considered that, must have decided against giving an opinion, one way or the other. “You’ll keep me in the loop?” he asked presently.
“Yes,” Ashley said.
“I’ll be there to get the cat sometime this afternoon. Do you want a ride to the airport?”
“I’ve got that covered,” Ashley replied. “Thanks, Tanner. I really appreciate this.”
“We’re family,” Tanner pointed out. “Brad could probably charter a jet—”
“I don’t need a jet,” Ashley interrupted, though gently. “And I’m not really ready to discuss any of this with Brad. Not just yet, anyhow.”
“Is there a plan?” Tanner asked. “And if so, what is it?”
Ashley smiled, even though her eyes were burning again. “No plan,” she said. “I’m not even sure Jack wants me there. But I have to see him, Tanner.”
“Of course you do,” Tanner agreed, sounding both relieved and resigned. “Brad is going to wonder where you’ve gone, though. He keeps pretty close tabs on his three little sisters, you know. But don’t worry about that—I’ll handle him.”
She heard Olivia’s voice in the background, asking what was going on.
“Let me talk to her,” Ashley said, and told the whole story all over again.
“I don’t like it that you’re going alone,” Olivia told her, a minute or so later. “I’ve got the babies to look after, and I think Sophie is coming down with a cold, but maybe Melissa could go along—”
“Melissa is going to house-sit,” Ashley said. “And she’ll have her hands full holding down the fort, especially if I’m not back before Valentine’s Day. I’ll be fine, Livie.”
“You’re sure? What if Jack—?”
“What if he doesn’t want to see me? I’ll handle it, Liv. I’m a big girl now, remember?”
Olivia’s laugh was warm, and a little teary. “Godspeed, little sister,” she said. “And call us when you get there.”
“I will,” Ashley said, thinking how lucky she was.
The next few hours passed in a haze of activity—there were project lists to make for Melissa, and dozens of other details, too.
As promised, Tanner showed up late that afternoon to collect a mewing Mrs. Wiggins in the small pet carrier Olivia had sent along.
“Tell Jack I said hello,” Tanner said, as he was leaving.
Ashley nodded, and her brother-in-law planted a light kiss on the top of her head.
“Take care,” he told her. And then he was gone.
Melissa showed up when she got off work, and she and Ashley went over the lists—which guests to put where, how to reheat the food she’d prepared ahead of time, frozen and carefully labeled, how to take reservations and run credit cards, and a myriad of other things.
Melissa looked overwhelmed, but in true O’Ballivan spirit, she vowed to do her best.
Knowing she wouldn’t sleep if she stayed in Stone Creek that night, Ashley loaded her suitcase into the car and set out for Flagstaff, intending to check into a hotel near the airport and have a room-service supper.
Her flight was leaving at six-thirty the next morning.
Along the way, though, she pulled off onto the snowy road leading to the cemetery where her mother was buried, parked near Delia’s grave, and waded toward the headstone.
There were no heartfelt words, no tears.
Ashley simply felt a need to be there, in that quiet place. Somehow, a sense of closure had stolen into her heart when she wasn’t looking. She could let go now, move on.
The weather was bitterly cold, though, and she soon got back in her car and made her steady, careful way toward Flagstaff.
She would always love the mother she’d longed to have, she reflected, but it was time to go forward, appreciate the living people she loved, those who loved her in return: Brad and Meg, Olivia and Tanner, Melissa and little Mac and Carly and sweet Sophie and the babies.
And Jack.
She didn’t obsess over what might happen when she arrived in Chicago. For once in her life, she was taking a risk, going for what she wanted.
And she wanted Jack McCall—McKenzie—whoever he was.
Once she’d arrived in Flagstaff, she chose a hotel and checked in, ordered a bowl of cream of broccoli soup, ate it, and soaked in a warm bath until the chill seeped out of her bones. Most of it, anyway.
A part of her would remain frozen until she’d seen Jack for herself.
* * *
“You did what?” Jack demanded, after supper that night, when he and Bryce wound up the evening sitting in chairs in front of the fireplace. It had been a hectic thing, supper, with brothers and their wives, nieces and nephews, and even a few neighbors there to share in the meal celebrating Jack’s return from the dead.
“I called Ashley O’Ballivan,” Bryce repeated, with no more regret than he’d shown the first time. “She’ll be here late tomorrow afternoon. I’m picking her up at O’Hare.”
Jack sat back, absorbing the news. A part of him soared, anticipating Ashley’s arrival. Another part wanted to find a place to hide out until she was gone again.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, little brother,” he finally said, with no inflection in his voice at all. “Especially considering that I told you I’m not ready to see her.”
“Until you’re sure you won’t die,” Bryce confirmed confidently. “Jack, all of us are terminal. Maybe you won’t be around long. Maybe you’ll live to be a hundred. But in the meantime, you need to see this woman, even if it’s only to say goodbye.”
Saying goodbye to Ashley the last time had been one of the hardest things Jack had ever had to do. Saying goodbye to her again, especially for eternity, might be more than he could bear.
His conscience niggled at him. What about what Ashley had to bear?
Jack closed his eyes. “I’ll get you for this,” he told his brother.
Bryce chuckled. “You’ll have to get well first,” he replied.
“You think you can take me?” Jack challenged, grinning now, both infuriated and relieved.
“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Bryce pointed out. “I might be able to take you—even with all your paramilitary skills.”
Jack opened his eyes, looked at his younger brother with new respect. “Maybe you could,” he said.
Bryce stood, stretched and yawned mightily. “Better get back to my apartment,” he said. “Busy day tomorrow.”
Ashley, Jack thought, full of conflicting emotions he couldn’t begin to identify. What was he so afraid of? Not commitment, certainly—at least as far as Ashley was concerned.
“After this,” he told his departing brother, “mind your own business.”
“Not a chance,” Bryce said lightly.
And then he was gone.
* * *
The first signs of an approaching blizzard hit Chicago five minutes after Ashley’s plane landed at O’Hare, and the landing had been so bumpy that her knuckles were white from gripping the armrests—letting go of them was a slow and deliberate process.
She was such a homebody, completely unsuited to an adventurer like Jack. If she’d had a brain in her head, she decided, gnawing at her lower lip, she would have turned right around and flown back to Arizona where she belonged, blizzard or no blizzard.
She waited impatiently while all the passengers in the rows ahead of hers gathered their coats and carry-ons and meandered up the aisle at the pace of spilled peanut butter.
They had all the time in the world, probably.
Ashley knew she might not.
She hurried up the Jetway when her turn finally came, having returned the flight attendant’s farewell smile with a fleeting one of her own.
Finding her way along a maze of moving walkways took more time, and she was almost breathless when she finally stepped out of the secure area, scanning the waiting sea of strange faces. Bryce had promised to hold up a sign with her name on it, so they could recognize each other, but even standing on tiptoe, she didn’t see one.
“Ashley?”
She froze, turned to see Jack standing at her elbow. A strangled cry, part sob and part something else entirely, escaped her.
He looked so thin, so pale. His eyes were, as Big John used to say, like two burned holes in a blanket.
“Hey,” he said huskily.
Ashley swallowed, still unable to move. “Hey,” she responded.
He grinned, resembling his old self a little more, and crooked his arm, and she took it.
“You’re glad to see me?” she asked, afraid of the answer. His grin, after all, could have been a reflex.
“If I’d been given a choice,” he replied, “I would have asked you not to come. But, yeah, I’m glad to see you.”
“Good,” Ashley said uncertainly, aware of the strangeness between them. And the ever-present electrical charge.
“My interfering brother is waiting over in baggage claim,” he said. “Let’s go find him, before this storm gets any worse and we get stuck in rush-hour traffic. It’s a long drive out to Oak Park.”
Ashley nodded, overjoyed to be there and, at the same time, wishing she’d stayed home.
Once she’d met Bryce McKenzie—he was taller than his brother, though not so broad in the shoulders—and collected her solitary, out-of-style suitcase, the three of them headed for the parking garage, Bryce carrying the bag.
Fortunately, Bryce drove a big SUV with four-wheel drive, and he didn’t seem a bit worried about the weather. Ashley sat in the front passenger seat, while Jack climbed painfully into the back.
The snow was coming down so hard and so fast by then, and the traffic was so intense, that Ashley wondered if they would reach Oak Park alive.
They did, eventually, and all the McKenzies were waiting in the entryway of the large brick house when they pulled into the circular driveway out front.
Introductions were made—Jack’s father and stepmother, his brothers and their wives, Bryce’s fiancée, Kathy—and most of their names went out of Ashley’s head as soon as she’d heard them.
She could think of nothing—and no one—but Jack.
Jack, who’d sat silent in the backseat of his brother’s SUV all the way from the airport. Bryce, bless his heart, had tried hard to keep the conversation going, asking Ashley if her flight had been okay, inquiring about Stone Creek and what it was like there.
Ashley, as uncomfortable in her own way as Jack was in his, had given sparse answers.
She shouldn’t have come.
Just as she’d feared, Jack didn’t want her there.
The McKenzies welcomed her heartily, though, and Mrs. McKenzie—Abigail—served a meat-loaf supper so delicious that Ashley made a mental note to ask for the recipe.
Jack, seated next to her, though probably not by his own choosing, ate sparingly, as she did, and said almost nothing.
“You must be tired,” Jack’s father said to her, when the meal was over and Ashley automatically got up to help clear the table. The older man’s gaze shifted to his eldest son. “Jack, why don’t you show Ashley to her room so she can rest?”
Jack nodded, gestured for Ashley to precede him, and followed her out of the dining room.
The base of the broad, curving staircase was just ahead.
Ashley couldn’t help noticing how slowly Jack moved. He was probably exhausted. “You don’t have to—”
“Ashley,” he interrupted blandly, “I can still climb stairs.”
She lowered her gaze, then forced herself to look at him again. “I’m sorry, Jack—I—I shouldn’t have come, but—”
He drew the knuckles of his right hand lightly down the side of her cheek. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I guess—well—it’s hard on my pride, your seeing me like this.”
Ashley was honestly puzzled. Sure, he’d lost weight, and his color wasn’t great, but he was still Jack. “Like what?”
Jack spread his arms, looked down at himself, met her eyes again. She saw misery and sorrow in his expression. “I might be dying, Ashley,” he said. “I wanted you to remember me the way I was before.”
Ashley stiffened. “You are not going to die, Jack McCall. I won’t tolerate it.”
He gave a slanted grin. “Is that so?” he replied. “What do you intend to do to prevent it, O’Ballivan?”
“Take a pregnancy test,” Ashley said, without planning to at all.
Jack’s eyes widened. “You think you’re—?”
“Pregnant?” Ashley finished for him, lowering her voice lest the conversation carry into the nearby dining room.
“Yeah,” Jack said, somewhat pointedly.
“I might be,” Ashley said. This was yet another thing she hadn’t allowed herself to think about—until now. “I’m late. Very late.”
He took her elbow, squired her up the stairs with more energy than he’d shown since she’d come face-to-face with him at O’Hare. “Is that unusual?”
“Yes,” Ashley whispered, “it’s unusual.”
He smiled, and a light spread into his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You’re not just saying this, are you? Trying to give me a reason to live or something like that?”
“If you can’t come up with a reason to live, Jack McCall,” Ashley said, waving one arm toward the distant dining room, where his family had gathered, “you’re in even sorrier shape than I thought.”
He frowned. “Jack McKenzie,” he said, clearly thinking of something else. “I’m going by my real name now.”
“Well, bully for you,” Ashley said.
“‘Bully for me’?” He laughed. “God, Ashley, you should have been born during the Roosevelt administration—the Teddy Roosevelt administration. Nobody says ‘Bully for you’ anymore.”
Ashley folded her arms. “I do,” she said.
His eyes danced—it was nice to know she was so entertaining—then went serious again. “Why are you here?”
She bristled. “You know why.”
“No,” Jack said, sounding honestly mystified. “I thought we agreed that I’d come back to Stone Creek after this was all over, and we’d stay apart until then.”
Ashley’s throat constricted as she considered the magnitude of what Jack was facing. “And I thought we agreed that we love each other. Whether you live or die, I want to be here.”
Pain contorted his face. “Ashley—”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going to happen to you,” Ashley broke in. “When will you know whether the transplant worked or not?”
The change in him was downright mercurial; Jack’s eyes twinkled again, and his features relaxed. He made a show of checking his watch. “I’m expecting an email from God at any minute,” he teased.
“That isn’t funny!”
“Not much is, these days.” He took her upper arms in his hands. “Ashley, as soon as this blizzard lets up, I want you to get on an airplane and go back to Stone Creek.”
“Well, here’s a news flash for you: just because you want something doesn’t mean you’re going to get it.”
He grinned, shook his head. “Strange that I never noticed how stubborn you can be.”
“Get used to it.”
He crossed the hall, opened a door.
She peeked inside, saw a comfortable-looking room with an antique four-poster bed, a matching dresser and chest of drawers, and several overstuffed chairs.
“I won’t sleep,” she warned.
“Neither will I,” Jack responded.
Ashley turned, faced him squarely. Spoke from her heart. “Don’t die, Jack,” she said. “Please—whatever happens between us—don’t just give up and die.”
He leaned in, kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I’ll do my best not to,” he said. Then he turned and started back toward the stairs.
“Aren’t you going to bed?” Ashley asked, feeling lonely and very far from home.
“Later,” he said, winking at her. “Right now, I’m going to call drugstores until I find one that delivers during snowstorms.”
Ashley’s heart caught; alarm reverberated through her like the echo of a giant brass gong. “Are you running low on one of your medications?”
“No,” Jack answered. “I’m going to ask them to send over one of those sticks.”
“Sticks?” Ashley frowned, confused.
“The kind a woman pees on,” he explained. “Plus sign if she’s pregnant, minus if she’s not.”
“That can wait,” Ashley protested. “Have you looked out a window lately?”
“I’ve got to know,” Jack said.
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe. Good night, Ashley.”
She swallowed. “Good night,” she said. Stepping inside the guestroom, she closed the door, leaned her forehead against it, and breathed deeply and slowly until she was sure she wouldn’t cry.
Her handbag and suitcase had already been brought upstairs. Sinking down onto the side of the bed, Ashley rummaged through her purse until she found the cell phone she’d bought on a wave of technological confidence, after she’d finally mastered her computer.
She dialed her own number at the bed-and-breakfast, and Melissa answered on the first ring.
“Ashley?” The twin-vibe strikes again.
“Hi, Melissa. I’m here—in Chicago, I mean—and I’m—I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” Melissa argued. “How’s Jack?”
“He looks terrible, and I don’t think he’s very happy that I’m here.”
“Oh, Ash—I’m sorry. Was the bastard rude to you?”
Ashley smiled, in spite of everything. “He’s not a bastard, Melissa,” she said, “and no, he hasn’t been rude.”
“Then—?”
“I think he’s given up,” Ashley admitted miserably. “It’s as if he’s decided to die and get it over with. And he doesn’t want me around to see it happen.”
“Look, maybe you should just come home—”
“I can’t. We’re socked in by the perfect storm. I’ve never seen so much snow—even in Stone Creek.” She paused. “And I wouldn’t leave anyway. How’s everything there?”
“It’s fine. I’ve had to turn away at least five people who wanted to book rooms for Valentine’s Day weekend.” Melissa still sounded worried. “You do realize that you might be there a while? Do you have enough money, Ash?”
“No,” Ashley said, embarrassed. “Not for a long haul.”
“I can help you out if you need some,” Melissa offered. “Brad, too.”
Ashley gulped down her O’Ballivan pride, and it wasn’t easy to swallow. “I’ll let you know,” she said, with what dignity she had left. “Do me a favor, will you? Call Tanner and Olivia and let them know I got here okay?”
“Sure,” Melissa said.
They said their goodbyes soon after that, and hung up.
As tired as she was, Ashley knew she wouldn’t sleep.
She took a bath, brushed her teeth and put on her pajamas.
She watched a newscast on the guestroom TV, waited until the very end for the weather report.
More snow on the way. O’Hare was shut down, and the police were asking everyone to stay off the roads except in the most dire emergencies.
At quarter after ten, a knock sounded on Ashley’s door.
“It’s me,” Jack called, in a loud whisper. “Can I come in?”
Before Ashley could answer, one way or the other, the door opened and he stepped inside, carrying a white bag in one hand.
“Nothing stops the post office or pharmacy delivery drivers,” he said, holding out the bag.
The pregnancy test, of course.
Ashley’s hand trembled as she reached out to accept it. “Come back later,” she said, moving toward her bathroom door.
Jack sat down on the side of her bed. “I’ll wait,” he said.