“I didn’t have to. I saw her. I saw Abigail.”
Cassie’s smile faded. “You did?”
“I never told the guys. They’d have ragged on me for the rest of my life. But I saw her, sitting in the parlor, by the fire. There was a fire, I could smell it, feel the heat from the flames, smell the roses that were in a vase on the table beside her. She was beautiful,” Devin said quietly. “Blond hair and porcelain skin, eyes the color of the smoke going up the flue. She wore a blue dress. I could hear the silk rustle as she moved. She was embroidering something, and her hands were small and delicate. She looked right at me, and she smiled. She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. She spoke to me.”
“She spoke to you,” Cassie repeated, as chills raced up and down her back like icy fingers. “What did she say?”
“‘If only.’” Devin brought himself back, shook himself. “That was it. ‘If only.’ Then she was gone, and I told myself I’d been dreaming. But I knew I hadn’t. I always hoped I’d see her again.”
“But you haven’t?”
“No, but I’ve heard her weeping. It breaks my heart.”
“I know.”
“I’d, ah, appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention that to Rafe. He’d still rag on me.”
“I won’t.” She smiled as he bit into a cookie. “Is that why you come here, hoping to see her again?”
“I come to see you.” The minute he’d said it, he recognized his mistake. Her face went from relaxed to wary in the blink of an eye. “And the kids,” he added quickly. “And for the cookies.”
She relaxed again. “I’ll put some in a bag for you to take with you.” But even as she rose to do so, he covered her hand with his. She froze, not in fear so much as from the shock of the contact. Speechless, she stared down at the way his hand swallowed hers.
“Cassie…” He strained against the urge to gather her up, just to hold her, to stroke those flyaway curls, to taste, finally to taste, that small, serious mouth.
There was a hitch in her breathing that she was afraid to analyze. But she made herself shift her gaze, ordered herself not to be so much a coward that she couldn’t look into his eyes. She wished she knew what she was looking at, or looking for. All she knew was that it was more than the patience and pity she’d expected to see there, that it was different.
“Devin—” She broke off, jerked back at the sound of giggles and stomping feet. “The kids are home,” she finished quickly, breathlessly, and hurried to the door. “I’m down here!” she called out, knowing that they would do as they’d been told and go directly to the apartment unless she stopped them.
“Mama, I got a gold star on my homework.” Emma came in, a blond pixie in a red playsuit. She set her lunch box on the counter and smiled shyly at Devin. “Hello.”
“There’s my best girl. Let’s see that star.”
Clutching the lined paper in her hand, she walked to him. “You have a star.”
“Not as pretty as this one.” Devin traced a finger over the gold foil stuck to the top of the paper. “Did you do this by yourself?”
“Almost all. Can I sit in your lap?”
“You bet.” He plucked her up, cradled her there. He quite simply adored her. After brushing his cheek against her hair, he grinned over at Connor. “How’s it going, champ?”
“Okay.” A little thrill moved through Connor at the nickname. He was small for his age, like Emma, and blond, though at ten he had hair that was shades darker than his towheaded sister’s.
“You pitched a good game last Saturday.”
Now he flushed. “Thanks. But Bryan went four for five.” His loyalty and love for his best friend knew no bounds. “Did you see?”
“I was there for a few innings. Watched you smoke a few batters.”
“Connor got an A on his history test,” Emma said. “And that mean old Bobby Lewis shoved him and called him a bad name when we were in line for the bus.”
“Emma…” Mortified, Connor scowled at his sister.
“I guess Bobby Lewis didn’t get an A,” Devin commented.
“Bryan fixed him good,” Emma went on.
I bet he did, Devin thought, and handed Emma a cookie so that she’d be distracted enough to stop embarrassing her brother.