Wild Fire
Page 95
Mary reached out and sympathetically patted her knee. “Don’t be depressed, Isabeau. You can make this day anything you want. When Abel asked me to marry him, we had no one either. Now . . .” Her smile was warm. “ . . . our family is very large and we’re blessed with several grand-children. I remember the day we got married as if it were yesterday. You want your day to be like that. Your man is so excited. I can see joy on his face.”
Isabeau’s smile lit her eyes. “Me too. That’s why I’ve agreed to this. It’s such an imposition for you.”
“Did you know Marisa?” Mary asked, placing her cup carefully on the white-laced tablecloth.
Isabeau nodded. “I met her a short while ago, right before she was killed. She was a good friend to me. At the time, I didn’t know she was Conner’s mother.”
“But she knew you were Conner’s chosen mate,” Mary said. “I know because I always knew with my sons. Mothers have that extra sense about them.”
“I hope she knew. I hope she approved.”
“Marisa was an accepting person. The man she chose when she was young and impressionable wasn’t her true mate, but she remained loyal to him in spite of the fact that he was so wrong in the way he treated her. She raised her son to be a good man, and she would have raised the boy she took . . .” She broke off when Isabeau gasped.
Mary nodded. “Yes, dear, we knew about little Mateo. Marisa brought him to us when she needed a doctor for him. She was a good woman, and she would be so happy that you are going to be the one to share her son’s life. I know she would.”
“You’re very kind,” Isabeau said.
“I knew Marisa very well, Isabeau, and she would want me to help you. I’d like to do just that if you don’t mind. I never had a daughter—only sons. Fortunately I love all of their wives, but they have their own parents to handle things like weddings. Marisa and I often talked about that—how as a mother we both had dreamt of creating a wonderful day for our daughters. She had no daughter either, so she pinned her hopes on Conner’s wife—you. She isn’t here, but perhaps you would be willing to fulfill both our dreams.”
Emotion nearly choked Isabeau. Tears burned behind her eyes and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stifle a sob. “I don’t know what to say. You make me feel like anything is possible.”
Mary’s face lit up. “Anything is. I just happen to have this trunk and it will be a treasure chest for us, I think.” She assessed Isabeau’s size, drawing her out of the chair and making her turn in a circle. “Yes, I think we’ll be just fine, and if not, well, I’m pretty handy with a sewing machine. Let me just make a few phone calls. I have friends who will come help us.”
“Conner might be concerned about strangers around, especially with Jeremiah in a bad way,” Isabeau pointed out reluctantly.
“Jeremiah is doing much better. Go have a look in on him and let your man know what I’m doing. Remind him that Abel and I have known those I’m calling for over twenty years. I’ve got a million things to do. Go reassure yourself that your friend is doing better and then get right back here.”
Isabeau felt her heart leap in her chest. For the first time, she felt lighter, as though there was a chance she could make the day special and memorable. Most likely, she realized, because she had someone to share her happiness with, someone to talk to while she got ready. Conner had Rio and the others, even Doc, but she didn’t know anyone that well. Mary made Isabeau feel as if she was being fussed over: Not only did she want to help with the preparations, but she looked forward to it.
She nodded and went on through the house to the back room where Jeremiah was resting. Conner and Rio were in the room with him. Jeremiah looked pale, bruises and lacerations marring his body. An IV fed him and she noted a bag of antibiotics dripping into his arm.
“How is he?” she asked.
Conner wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to the side of the bed. “He’s fighting an infection, but Doc says he’ll make it. He’s going to have an interesting voice for the rest of his life.”
Rio sighed. “I shouldn’t have used him. He wasn’t ready.”
“I don’t think you could have stopped him,” Isabeau said. “He felt guilty for listening to Suma in the first place. He had the need to make it up to himself and maybe to me. He would have just followed you.”
“He handled himself well,” Conner pointed out. “He didn’t panic and in spite of encountering an enemy, he went back to the original mission, trying to protect us. Suma was experienced and a fighter. I had a few bad moments with him myself. Isabeau shot him, remember? I just finished the job.”
“You would have taken him,” Rio said, “but it was going to take time we didn’t have.”
“I think Ottila is going to be more dangerous than ever,” Isabeau ventured hesitantly. “He appeared to take a backseat to Suma, but I didn’t believe it after encountering him. I think he was the brains. And I think his number-one priority will be seeking revenge for Suma.”
Conner shook his head. “It will be acquiring you.”
She frowned. “Suma and Ottila seemed like close brothers. He said they . . .” She bit her lip and forced herself to continue, although she found it embarrassing. “They shared everything—including women. He was willing to share me with Suma, although he said I would carry his child.”
Isabeau’s smile lit her eyes. “Me too. That’s why I’ve agreed to this. It’s such an imposition for you.”
“Did you know Marisa?” Mary asked, placing her cup carefully on the white-laced tablecloth.
Isabeau nodded. “I met her a short while ago, right before she was killed. She was a good friend to me. At the time, I didn’t know she was Conner’s mother.”
“But she knew you were Conner’s chosen mate,” Mary said. “I know because I always knew with my sons. Mothers have that extra sense about them.”
“I hope she knew. I hope she approved.”
“Marisa was an accepting person. The man she chose when she was young and impressionable wasn’t her true mate, but she remained loyal to him in spite of the fact that he was so wrong in the way he treated her. She raised her son to be a good man, and she would have raised the boy she took . . .” She broke off when Isabeau gasped.
Mary nodded. “Yes, dear, we knew about little Mateo. Marisa brought him to us when she needed a doctor for him. She was a good woman, and she would be so happy that you are going to be the one to share her son’s life. I know she would.”
“You’re very kind,” Isabeau said.
“I knew Marisa very well, Isabeau, and she would want me to help you. I’d like to do just that if you don’t mind. I never had a daughter—only sons. Fortunately I love all of their wives, but they have their own parents to handle things like weddings. Marisa and I often talked about that—how as a mother we both had dreamt of creating a wonderful day for our daughters. She had no daughter either, so she pinned her hopes on Conner’s wife—you. She isn’t here, but perhaps you would be willing to fulfill both our dreams.”
Emotion nearly choked Isabeau. Tears burned behind her eyes and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stifle a sob. “I don’t know what to say. You make me feel like anything is possible.”
Mary’s face lit up. “Anything is. I just happen to have this trunk and it will be a treasure chest for us, I think.” She assessed Isabeau’s size, drawing her out of the chair and making her turn in a circle. “Yes, I think we’ll be just fine, and if not, well, I’m pretty handy with a sewing machine. Let me just make a few phone calls. I have friends who will come help us.”
“Conner might be concerned about strangers around, especially with Jeremiah in a bad way,” Isabeau pointed out reluctantly.
“Jeremiah is doing much better. Go have a look in on him and let your man know what I’m doing. Remind him that Abel and I have known those I’m calling for over twenty years. I’ve got a million things to do. Go reassure yourself that your friend is doing better and then get right back here.”
Isabeau felt her heart leap in her chest. For the first time, she felt lighter, as though there was a chance she could make the day special and memorable. Most likely, she realized, because she had someone to share her happiness with, someone to talk to while she got ready. Conner had Rio and the others, even Doc, but she didn’t know anyone that well. Mary made Isabeau feel as if she was being fussed over: Not only did she want to help with the preparations, but she looked forward to it.
She nodded and went on through the house to the back room where Jeremiah was resting. Conner and Rio were in the room with him. Jeremiah looked pale, bruises and lacerations marring his body. An IV fed him and she noted a bag of antibiotics dripping into his arm.
“How is he?” she asked.
Conner wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to the side of the bed. “He’s fighting an infection, but Doc says he’ll make it. He’s going to have an interesting voice for the rest of his life.”
Rio sighed. “I shouldn’t have used him. He wasn’t ready.”
“I don’t think you could have stopped him,” Isabeau said. “He felt guilty for listening to Suma in the first place. He had the need to make it up to himself and maybe to me. He would have just followed you.”
“He handled himself well,” Conner pointed out. “He didn’t panic and in spite of encountering an enemy, he went back to the original mission, trying to protect us. Suma was experienced and a fighter. I had a few bad moments with him myself. Isabeau shot him, remember? I just finished the job.”
“You would have taken him,” Rio said, “but it was going to take time we didn’t have.”
“I think Ottila is going to be more dangerous than ever,” Isabeau ventured hesitantly. “He appeared to take a backseat to Suma, but I didn’t believe it after encountering him. I think he was the brains. And I think his number-one priority will be seeking revenge for Suma.”
Conner shook his head. “It will be acquiring you.”
She frowned. “Suma and Ottila seemed like close brothers. He said they . . .” She bit her lip and forced herself to continue, although she found it embarrassing. “They shared everything—including women. He was willing to share me with Suma, although he said I would carry his child.”
