Read Online Her Loving Husband's Curse by Meredith Allard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meredith Allard
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like to be staked by wood. That’s what it felt like to him every time he saw his wife long for that child. But he stayed stubborn. It was for the best, he thought. They were enough for each other.
He watched Sarah sleep, heard her soothing heartbeat, and he felt a new wave of calmness. Suddenly, someone unseen but all-knowing whispered in his ear. “She’ll be a wonderful mother,” he heard. “And you’ll be a wonderful father too.”
James shook his head at the formless voice. “No,” he said.
“Yes,” he heard.
He looked around, expecting to see someone standing beside him. It was a rich voice, a deep voice, formal yet comfortable, strong yet familiar, and it left him warm inside when normally he was oh so very cold. He was certain he knew it, but it sounded detached somehow, like it was distorted through a scratchy intercom. He shook his head again, trying to separate the fantasy of the voice from the reality of the room around him. He saw no one but Sarah asleep in their bed. He must have imagined it, he decided, though he continued to feel warm inside. Suddenly, he felt a starburst of truth illuminate every concern he ever had about bringing a child into their home. The light was so bright he shielded his eyes with his hand.
Was it possible? He knew Sarah would be a wonderful mother. She had the kindness, the patience, the affection, and, most importantly, the love any child would need. And he would love the child too. He never doubted his ability to love a child, only the child’s ability to love him. But Sarah loved him, turned as he was. And their child could too.
Their child.
James smiled. He leaned over Sarah, kissing her cheek. He thought of that sad time all those years before when he had mourned not only Elizabeth’s passing but their child’s too. He blinked away the bloody film blurring his sight. He laid down in bed next to her, spooning her, and closed his eyes.
The voice spoke again. “Yes,” it said.
James smiled as he relaxed into the radiating warmth.
“Yes,” he said.
CHAPTER 6
James awoke to the clunk-clunk-clunk of nails hammered into seventeenth century wood. He pulled aside the blackout curtains and raised the blinds, seeing the sunrise-colored autumn leaves drop one-by-one to the wilting lawn while storm clouds gathered over the bay, adding more gray than black to the night. He was waking earlier since it was getting darker earlier, a good thing with Sarah waiting for him.
Orange and black. That’s all he saw when he walked into the great room—orange and black. And pumpkins. Witches, ghosts, skeletons, Frankensteins, even, he sighed, vampires decorated the walls and the bookshelves while strings of glowing plastic pumpkin lights lined the diamond-paned windows. A display of autumn harvest squash sat in a Happy Halloween basket on the granite island in the kitchen, and he saw the witch-themed potholders hanging from hooks.
Sarah skipped toward him like a dancing preschooler. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Is this a joke?”
“You live in Salem and you think Halloween is a joke?” She stood on her toes and reached her arms around his neck. “Besides, who better to celebrate Halloween than a vampire husband and his ghost wife?”
James was too distracted by the decorations to answer. He hated Halloween for all the same reasons he hated Dracula . If humans thought ghouls and goblins were their greatest threats, how little they understood. When he looked at Sarah he half-expected her to be orange and black and wearing a pointed witch’s hat. She must have seen his agitation because she dropped her arms and stepped away.
“Jennifer told me you’re a grouch around Halloween. You’re looking a little puckered, Doctor Wentworth.” She walked toward the decorations as though she were siding with them against him. “They’re decorations. They’re meant to be fun, allow grown-ups to feel like kids again for a little while every year, but if you hate
He watched Sarah sleep, heard her soothing heartbeat, and he felt a new wave of calmness. Suddenly, someone unseen but all-knowing whispered in his ear. “She’ll be a wonderful mother,” he heard. “And you’ll be a wonderful father too.”
James shook his head at the formless voice. “No,” he said.
“Yes,” he heard.
He looked around, expecting to see someone standing beside him. It was a rich voice, a deep voice, formal yet comfortable, strong yet familiar, and it left him warm inside when normally he was oh so very cold. He was certain he knew it, but it sounded detached somehow, like it was distorted through a scratchy intercom. He shook his head again, trying to separate the fantasy of the voice from the reality of the room around him. He saw no one but Sarah asleep in their bed. He must have imagined it, he decided, though he continued to feel warm inside. Suddenly, he felt a starburst of truth illuminate every concern he ever had about bringing a child into their home. The light was so bright he shielded his eyes with his hand.
Was it possible? He knew Sarah would be a wonderful mother. She had the kindness, the patience, the affection, and, most importantly, the love any child would need. And he would love the child too. He never doubted his ability to love a child, only the child’s ability to love him. But Sarah loved him, turned as he was. And their child could too.
Their child.
James smiled. He leaned over Sarah, kissing her cheek. He thought of that sad time all those years before when he had mourned not only Elizabeth’s passing but their child’s too. He blinked away the bloody film blurring his sight. He laid down in bed next to her, spooning her, and closed his eyes.
The voice spoke again. “Yes,” it said.
James smiled as he relaxed into the radiating warmth.
“Yes,” he said.
CHAPTER 6
James awoke to the clunk-clunk-clunk of nails hammered into seventeenth century wood. He pulled aside the blackout curtains and raised the blinds, seeing the sunrise-colored autumn leaves drop one-by-one to the wilting lawn while storm clouds gathered over the bay, adding more gray than black to the night. He was waking earlier since it was getting darker earlier, a good thing with Sarah waiting for him.
Orange and black. That’s all he saw when he walked into the great room—orange and black. And pumpkins. Witches, ghosts, skeletons, Frankensteins, even, he sighed, vampires decorated the walls and the bookshelves while strings of glowing plastic pumpkin lights lined the diamond-paned windows. A display of autumn harvest squash sat in a Happy Halloween basket on the granite island in the kitchen, and he saw the witch-themed potholders hanging from hooks.
Sarah skipped toward him like a dancing preschooler. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Is this a joke?”
“You live in Salem and you think Halloween is a joke?” She stood on her toes and reached her arms around his neck. “Besides, who better to celebrate Halloween than a vampire husband and his ghost wife?”
James was too distracted by the decorations to answer. He hated Halloween for all the same reasons he hated Dracula . If humans thought ghouls and goblins were their greatest threats, how little they understood. When he looked at Sarah he half-expected her to be orange and black and wearing a pointed witch’s hat. She must have seen his agitation because she dropped her arms and stepped away.
“Jennifer told me you’re a grouch around Halloween. You’re looking a little puckered, Doctor Wentworth.” She walked toward the decorations as though she were siding with them against him. “They’re decorations. They’re meant to be fun, allow grown-ups to feel like kids again for a little while every year, but if you hate
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