to.
And he almost did. He lowered his head, and her lips parted in expectation. She very nearly stood on her tiptoes to close that little space between their mouths.
But then Noah eased back with the kind of apologetic, self-deprecating smile that made Claire want to weep in an entirely different way.
“So what happened?” he asked, and it took Claire a minute to compose herself, to pretend she hadn’t just been waiting with every sense and sinew for him to kiss her.
“I finally woke up,” she said simply. “I realized what was happening. We’d been spending a lot of time together by then—both with Emma and just the two of us. He told me his wife worked all the time, didn’t care about him or Emma.” She held up a hand to forestall him, even though he hadn’t looked as if he were about to say anything. “I know that’s what they all say. And it’s no excuse at all, anyway.”
He gave her a faint smile. “I know you know that.”
“How would you know what I know?” she asked with a shaky laugh.
“You’re a good person, Claire.”
More tears sprang to her eyes and she couldn’t quite blink these ones away. One escaped, trickling down her cheek as she whispered her confession. “I don’t feel like I’m a good person. I feel like I came a hair’s breadth from selling my soul. From betraying everything I am and believed in, and for what? A little happiness? Not even a little. It was all lies, anyway. His wife did care about them. I realized that—after.” She’d crept out of Mark’s bedroom, ashamed and sick at heart at how close she’d come to having an affair with a married man, and had seen a note scribbled by Emma’s mother to the two of them stuck in the hall mirror.
Such a small thing, and yet so vital. Those little, easy words spoke of a love and affection that Mark had pretended wasn’t there. And when Emma had opened her bedroom door and seen, in appalled silence, her history teacher creeping out of her apartment after midnight, her clothing rumpled and her hair in a tangle about her face…
With a terrible, burning shame, Claire had realized just how much of an intruder and impostor she’d really been.
And was the same thing happening again, just in a different way?
“You are a good person,” Noah said, his voice roughening, and he brushed her single tear away with the pad of his thumb before pulling her into a sudden, surprising, and much-needed hug.
Claire melted into that hug, her whole body softening and yielding to his. She needed another person’s arms around her. Another person’s total acceptance. She closed her eyes, feeling the hot press of the tears she’d held back against her lids. Put her arms around Noah and accepted his comfort and faith as if it were the only anchor in the drowning sea of her own emotions and guilt.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered, easing back, too emotional to be embarrassed by what she’d said and shown. Maybe that would come later.
“Will you spend tomorrow with us?” Noah asked. “I don’t know what we’ve got planned, but both Molly and I want to spend the day with you.”
Claire gave him a wobbly smile. Her heart felt full of so many different emotions, but the one she could separate out from the rest was happiness. “I want that too,” she said.
Chapter Nine
‡
N oah woke up the next morning after a restless night and the first thought that flashed into his panic-stricken mind was that he hadn’t bought a Christmas present for Molly.
He sat up in bed, driving a hand through his hair as he blinked sleep from his eyes. It was still pitch-dark out, not even five o’clock in the morning, but as a farmer he was up and dressed and out in the barn well before six. Now he swore quietly, regret lashing him. How could he have been so stupid, not to have a present for his daughter? It was Christmas Eve .
In years past he’d seen Molly the Saturday after Christmas, and he’d always picked her up something on the way
And he almost did. He lowered his head, and her lips parted in expectation. She very nearly stood on her tiptoes to close that little space between their mouths.
But then Noah eased back with the kind of apologetic, self-deprecating smile that made Claire want to weep in an entirely different way.
“So what happened?” he asked, and it took Claire a minute to compose herself, to pretend she hadn’t just been waiting with every sense and sinew for him to kiss her.
“I finally woke up,” she said simply. “I realized what was happening. We’d been spending a lot of time together by then—both with Emma and just the two of us. He told me his wife worked all the time, didn’t care about him or Emma.” She held up a hand to forestall him, even though he hadn’t looked as if he were about to say anything. “I know that’s what they all say. And it’s no excuse at all, anyway.”
He gave her a faint smile. “I know you know that.”
“How would you know what I know?” she asked with a shaky laugh.
“You’re a good person, Claire.”
More tears sprang to her eyes and she couldn’t quite blink these ones away. One escaped, trickling down her cheek as she whispered her confession. “I don’t feel like I’m a good person. I feel like I came a hair’s breadth from selling my soul. From betraying everything I am and believed in, and for what? A little happiness? Not even a little. It was all lies, anyway. His wife did care about them. I realized that—after.” She’d crept out of Mark’s bedroom, ashamed and sick at heart at how close she’d come to having an affair with a married man, and had seen a note scribbled by Emma’s mother to the two of them stuck in the hall mirror.
Such a small thing, and yet so vital. Those little, easy words spoke of a love and affection that Mark had pretended wasn’t there. And when Emma had opened her bedroom door and seen, in appalled silence, her history teacher creeping out of her apartment after midnight, her clothing rumpled and her hair in a tangle about her face…
With a terrible, burning shame, Claire had realized just how much of an intruder and impostor she’d really been.
And was the same thing happening again, just in a different way?
“You are a good person,” Noah said, his voice roughening, and he brushed her single tear away with the pad of his thumb before pulling her into a sudden, surprising, and much-needed hug.
Claire melted into that hug, her whole body softening and yielding to his. She needed another person’s arms around her. Another person’s total acceptance. She closed her eyes, feeling the hot press of the tears she’d held back against her lids. Put her arms around Noah and accepted his comfort and faith as if it were the only anchor in the drowning sea of her own emotions and guilt.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered, easing back, too emotional to be embarrassed by what she’d said and shown. Maybe that would come later.
“Will you spend tomorrow with us?” Noah asked. “I don’t know what we’ve got planned, but both Molly and I want to spend the day with you.”
Claire gave him a wobbly smile. Her heart felt full of so many different emotions, but the one she could separate out from the rest was happiness. “I want that too,” she said.
Chapter Nine
‡
N oah woke up the next morning after a restless night and the first thought that flashed into his panic-stricken mind was that he hadn’t bought a Christmas present for Molly.
He sat up in bed, driving a hand through his hair as he blinked sleep from his eyes. It was still pitch-dark out, not even five o’clock in the morning, but as a farmer he was up and dressed and out in the barn well before six. Now he swore quietly, regret lashing him. How could he have been so stupid, not to have a present for his daughter? It was Christmas Eve .
In years past he’d seen Molly the Saturday after Christmas, and he’d always picked her up something on the way
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