FINDERS KEEPERS

Part 2

"Wait!" he exclaimed and rushed back out. He scooped up his wife against her squeals of protest. "I insist upon carrying you across our threshold."

"We’re not newlyweds Carl," she laughed and tightened her arms around his neck.

"No, but tonight can be just like our honeymoon." He kicked the door shut behind them. "Can you reach the lights?"

Rachel groped against the wall behind them and hit the switch, casting the room in soft light. "Do you even remember our honeymoon?"

"You’ll have to wait and see won’t you?" He let her body slide slowly down his own until her feet touched the floor. "And if I don’t, well, you can teach me the things I need to remember."

"You," she brushed her lips against his, "are incorrigible. It smells heavenly in here."

"Thank you, I’ve worked most of my morning away." Taking her coat he tossed both it and his across the table in the breakfast nook. "I thought you might be hungry when you arrived."

"I am." Kicking off her shoes, Rachel padded to the range and lifted a lid. "You made soup!"

"It’s homemade turkey vegetable. Not very romantic, but it is your favorite if I remember correctly," he said, quietly slipping up behind her.

"You’re right, as always. I’ve had enough hotel food and takeout to last quite a while. I’ve been salivating over thoughts of Helen’s chocolate mousse."

"Then sit down at the table and I’ll take care of you."

"Make it a big bowl please." Rachel sat at the table he’d so beautifully arranged with flowers and candles. Lucky her, she had a husband who could cook and was endlessly romantic as well.

"Here we are." Placing her bowl before her, Carl sat down opposite her with his own. He watched her closely as she slurped the first spoonful. "And?"

"Wonderful," she told him around a second bite. "I didn’t know you could do soup from scratch."

"Me either, but Helen’s been providing me with lessons while you slave away at Cory."

They finished their meal in silence, each caught up the food before them. Once she was full Rachel watched him in the glow of the candlelight. He really was a wonder, her husband. Few men in his situation would be able to handle it with such ease. Yet here he was playing homemaker and making her home so wonderful and warm.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

"You. Always you." She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. "I was thinking about how blessed I am."

"I’m the one who’s blessed. To think I could have missed all this. Missed you." He stroked her knuckles with his thumb. "It’s enough to bring a man to his knees."

Rachel brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. "Now I know this will break the mood…"

"But you want to know…"

"I need to know how everything’s been."

"We discussed this over the telephone numerous times darling," he protested.

"Yes, but now you’re in front of me and I can see your eyes." She peered into his dark eyes. "So?"

"Fine. Everything is fine. Matt and Amanda have let me live in peace. Alli’s stayed over a few nights as well as Remy. The grubs are quite taken with her by the way. More so than with Alli." He paused for breath. "Cory and Elizabeth are over their little bout, thank heavens. We’ve taken turns sleeping in their room and our room and they nearly went batty from being cooped up inside for so long."

"And you?"

He matched her steady gaze. "No nightmares, no headaches. I haven’t had a single problem."

Rachel exhaled a relieved sigh and slumped back I her chair. "Thank God."

"I hate to say ‘I told you so’ Rachel. The headaches were caused by forces beyond my control, not my health." He carried their empty dishes to the kitchen. Rachel followed him and hopped onto the counter next to the sink.

"I can’t help but worry Carl. I missed the signs once, but I do not intend to miss them again."

"I give in," he said, swooping in for a kiss. "I love that you care so much for me, but tonight I’d rather concentrate on other things."

"Such as?"

"The remainder of your surprise."

"Okay," she relented with mock exasperation and held out her arms to him. "I am yours to be used at your will."

"That’s more like it." Carefully he lowered her to the floor and led her out of the room, picking up a candle on the way.

"Oooh, leading me through the house by candlelight, how romantic. Or did we miss the electric bill this month?"

"There’s more." He produced a long silk scarf from his pocket.

"A blindfold? Uh-oh, I’m starting to worry now," she joked as she gave herself over to him. They walked up the back staircase and down several hallways.

"Wait here," he told her, "and don’t touch the blindfold." He closed the door gently. Patiently she waited, anticipation swirling around in her belly, setting her on edge.

The door opened with what sounded like a flourish. "Milady." He pulled her into their room, this time not bothering to close the door behind them. One of the many benefits of being completely alone in the house.

"I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble Carl."

"I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. You can remove it now."

Rachel ripped the cloth from her eyes. "Oh my," she whispered. "It’s beautiful." Her knees turned to jelly as she took in the sight before them. Her husband had decked the room out with roses of every shade imaginable as well as enough candles to light a dozen rooms. It was a gorgeous scene straight out of a fantasy, and had been created just for her pleasure.

"I can’t believe you did this for me," her voice trembled with emotion.

"There’s more."

"More? THIS is too much." She walked about the room, sniffing the sweet flowers. Rachel turned to him, love beaming from her. "I am the luckiest woman in the world. I love you."

He took her in his arms and held on with everything he had. "And I love you."

She’d stayed in many hotels in many cities across the globe. The Bellefleur wasn’t exactly a ten, but it wasn’t a zero either. Jules Seagrave, MD, rated it at least a seven. Perhaps she’d deduct a point if the room service proved to be as slow as it had been tonight.

Jules didn’t care for food while on the road. After a while, even four star cuisine began to taste like drek. Nothing beat homecooked meals from your own kitchen. Unless it was a solitary meal, and she’d experienced more than her fair share of those.

She’d spent most of her childhood eating her meals alone. Practically raised by nannies, she’d rarely seen the parents who’d saddled her with the name Jules. Such a dreadful name for a little girl, but they had promised a dying relative and a promise is a promise.

As a child, she’d never had many friends. Add to that being a child prodigy, and well, you had a recipe for loneliness. Until she’d come across him.

Rising from the bed, Jules made her way to the room’s sole mirror. She knew she wasn’t gorgeous by any standards. She knew few would even call her beautiful. One lover, just before leaving her, had told her she possessed a beauty that was an acquired taste. She’d assumed he meant she was good enough to bed but not pretty enough to spend the rest of his life with. She didn’t blame him, she was rather plain.

For years her mother lamented over her daughter’s ordinary features. Jules never understood why. She had nice bone structure and smooth, clear skin. Her nose was neither too large nor too small with lips that were a little plump. The years had been kind and, as a whole, she had nothing to complain about.

Plucking the pins from her upswept hair, she grimaced as it tumbled around her shoulders. It had been an unruly mass her entire life. Most women longed for naturally curly hair but she thought they were crazy. No matter what she tried she couldn’t change it’s curl and bounce and if she didn’t scrape it away from her face and onto the back of her head, she’d never get anything done. But then, her hair had been her one physical attribute he’d commented on while under her care. Twirling a strand between a finger and thumb, she considered his description. Caramel, he’d named the color. Something no one had ever said before. Until him. The man she just couldn’t bring herself to call Carl.

Flopping onto the pile of newspapers spread across her bed, she searched for the picture she’d come across in the Herald. ‘Carl and Rachel Hutchins’ read the caption beneath the photo. She hadn’t read the accompanying article, merely stared at Him and read the name over and over. At the clinic they’d told her that was his new name. Well, not new, just his real name. To her it didn’t sound right, and was hard to accept. For Jules he could only be one person. Unfortunately, she was out of luck. The time had finally come to admit the truth—he’d found his home and was no longer her Jacob.