From This Day Forward

chapter Eighteen



Jason's hands trembled as he wrapped his son in a small square of material he'd cut from one of the blankets he found below deck. Gazing at the small, reddened body, he could hardly comprehend the fact that he had guided his own son into the world, that he'd watched him take his first breath, that he held him in his hands now.

His own blood flowed inside that small body, his and Caroline's, mingled together to form a new life that hadn't existed before.

Everything seemed changed—the jungle, the night-darkened river, his own heart. All his hopes and fears converged in the miracle he held so carefully.

A boy. He'd known all along it would be a boy. What he'd never anticipated was the overwhelming surge of love and pride that racked his exhausted body. He knew, with a certainty more powerful than anything he'd ever experienced, that he would die for this child, if need be—and for Caroline.

Walking toward his wife where she lay in the bed he'd brought up from below deck, Jason felt his heart skip a beat. He'd almost lost her—both of them. Because of him, she'd run away. If he hadn't found her when he had, they would have both almost surely died. How could he have ever lived with that?

Carefully, Jason slipped the child into the crook of Caroline's good arm, and she received him with a weary smile.

"He's so beautiful," she said, her gaze caressing the infant as she fumbled with the buttons on the front of her blouse. "Jason, I think you're going to have to help me," she said as the baby began to fuss.

Awkwardly, Jason stepped forward and began unbuttoning her blouse. A raw, elemental desire shuddered through his body, mingling with another emotion he could not name, though its power nearly drove him to his knees. By the time her breast was free, he could hardly breathe.

Caroline guided the baby to her breast, gasping in shock as his tiny mouth closed over her nipple and he began to suckle.

Exhausted but radiant, she gazed at Jason, a soft smile curving her lips. "He has your eyes," she said.

Jason backed away, swallowing convulsively. He'd noticed right away, of course. They were clear blue, as blue as an Irish sky in springtime, his mother would have said. Of course, they might change when the child got older. The thatch of snow white curls almost certainly would.

"Where are you going?" Caroline called.

Jason stopped, realizing that he'd reached the edge of the boat and had been about to jump out onto the bank. Why, he couldn't say. All he knew was that he needed to get away from them, from the emotions tearing at his heart.

"Please don't leave me," she pleaded. "I need you. I can't care for him alone with this broken arm."

"I—I can't," he murmured without facing her, the admission torn from his very soul.

He'd held the babe, bathed him, wrapped him against the elements, because he'd had no choice. But when he surrendered him to his mother, he'd meant for it to be a final relinquishing.

As he secured a hammock to the boat's walls near where Caroline lay, he thought about how tiny and helpless his son was. He'd made himself a solemn vow to protect them, and the best way to do that was to keep himself a safe distance from them. But there was only so much a man could endure.

"Where will he sleep?" Caroline asked.

Jason turned to gaze at them, his wife and son. The babe still clung to his mother's breast, though he had dozed off. His tiny fist lay against her soft flesh, his head resting on her white shoulder.

"He can sleep with you," he suggested.

"Jason, this cot is too narrow," she reasoned. "I can't support him with one arm. And if he needs attention in the middle of the night, there's nothing I can do."

How could he make her understand? He needed to distance himself from this child—from both of them—now, before the attachment he'd already begun to feel devoured him and pulling away was no longer a possibility.

"Jason!" she called. "You held him before. What are you afraid of?"

"Myself," he murmured.

"He's your son," she reminded him.

A tremor flashed through his body and he closed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he struggled against the hunger in his chest.

"I'm a coward, Caroline. You were right. I'm afraid I'll—I'll care too much."

There, he said it. He admitted his deepest weakness. He was afraid that he would lose anything he cared too much about and he couldn't bear the pain. If he didn't care so much, maybe pulling away wouldn't destroy him.

"I'm afraid you can't control that, Jason," she was saying as if she'd read his thoughts. "Haven't you learned as much yet? You ran away from the world because you couldn't control it. You thought that if you isolated yourself, you could stop feeling. Now you believe that if you distance yourself from your son, you can make yourself not care about him either. Don't you see? You can't control your heart."

Was she right? He wondered. He'd always believed he could control anything, everything, once he escaped the iron fist of his father's rule. But he hadn't been able to control Caroline or the fungus that had decimated his orchards or the overwhelming emotions that had devoured him at the moment of his son's birth.

The realization that there were so many things beyond his power should have terrified him, but it didn't. There was a strange comfort in letting go of some of the weight of responsibility.

Gingerly he reached for his son, and Caroline lifted him with her arm as best she could.

"Watch his head," she urged.

"Caroline, I can't do this," he said, fear flashing through him without warning as he wrapped his arms around the baby.

"You did it before," she reminded him. "I'm so tired, Jason, and my arm is throbbing. Please..."

Her words trailed off, and Jason had the uncomfortable feeling she'd fallen asleep. Now what was he supposed to do?

He stood, gazing down at her sleeping form, his son cradled in his arms. If he allowed himself to, he could feel a swell of contentment as pure and joyous as anything he'd ever known.

A son. A wife. A family. They embodied everything he'd ever truly wanted.

Tears welled in his eyes as he realized he'd surely die if they were ever taken from him.

Caroline was right. She'd been right about so many things. He could not head off the surge of affection for his new son, any more than he could hold back his feelings for her. They were part of the fiber that made him who he was. From this day forward, he would never be the same again; he knew it as surely as he'd ever known anything in his life.

Glancing one last time at his sleeping wife, Jason carried his son to the hammock in the corner. Carefully he climbed in and lay on his back, the baby resting on his chest. Both hands securely around the infant, he closed his eyes, dreaming of the years to come, years of watching his son grow and teaching him the things his own father had never taught him. Before long he settled into a peaceful sleep, the first he had known in seventeen years.

Jason steered the small boat through the early morning quiet. The river spread before it, as smooth and benign as silk. Peaceful, serene.

Caroline lay sleeping in the bed he'd left on deck, her left arm in a sling lying beneath her breasts. Her strong, rhythmic breathing caused the injured arm to rise and fall gently. Her long, dark hair spread around her white face, mangled and matted with mud, despite his efforts to clean it.

Cradled in her right arm, she held their sleeping son against her warm, soft body. Jason's stomach did a somersault as emotions pummeled him faster than he could repel them, piercing his every defense—pride, love, tenderness.

The baby moved, and Caroline's eyes flew open immediately. Jason jerked his head away before she could read the undisguised emotion in his eyes, before she could see into his soul. But they drew him like a magnet, this woman -and child, this perfection.

Against his will, he turned to gaze at them once again, and Caroline smiled weakly.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice strange in his own ears.

"Tired," she murmured.

Caroline drew the child to her breast, gasping as the tiny mouth closed over her tender nipple. Awkwardly, she supported the babe against her shoulder so she could caress his head with her good hand. Her eyes glazed with an emotion that touched him like a shadow.

His own feelings must pale when compared to hers. She'd known this child for nearly nine months, carried him beneath her heart, felt him move inside her body. They were still connected in a way that made him feel like an outsider, an observer with no part in the miracle.

He turned away from the warmth reflected in her eyes. Within minutes, his own pier would come into view and they would be faced with the same world they had left behind two days ago. The same problems would be waiting for them. But for a few more minutes, he reveled in the closeness that had grown between them last night.

When he glanced at Caroline again, both mother and child were asleep.

"Caroline," he murmured. He hated to wake her, but they would be docking soon and she needed to cover her exposed breast and prepare herself before they met the rest of the world.

"Caroline," he said more insistently.

Smiling languidly, she opened her eyes, and the love and contentment reflected there took his breath away.

"We'll be docking soon," he told her. "I think you should, ah—"

Suddenly, inexplicably embarrassed, he could only gesture toward her exposed flesh. She understood and drew her blouse together awkwardly, a touch of pink staining her cheeks.

"We should name him, you know," she said weakly.

"There's plenty of time for that," he assured her, concentrating on the river now that there was, blessedly, something to take his attention away from the yearning in his chest. "We can talk about it when you've regained your strength."

They accomplished the rest of the journey in silence. As they drew near, the pier exploded in activity. Men had already gathered and had begun preparations to send a search party after them. Now they stood at the end of the dock, craning their necks to see whether he was returning alone.

"I see a Senhora!" someone shouted, and a cheer went up from the small group.

Jason scowled, even though his heart swelled with pride at their admiration. Cutting the engine, he moved to the side of the boat and tossed a thick rope to one of the men on the shore. Quickly the boat was secured and boarded.

"Easy," Jason said as the men tried to crowd around Caroline. "She's still weak."

Ines shouldered her way through the silent, gaping men. "My poor Senhora!"

"Take the baby, Ines," Jason ordered. "Be careful of Caroline's left arm."

Caroline smiled weakly at Ines as she took the child from her arm. "Isn't he the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?"

"Sim, Senhora," Ines agreed, her eyes filling with tears. "Out of the way!" she commanded as she made her way back through the sea of men.

Jason moved beside Caroline, carefully arranging the sheet he'd wrapped around her to replace the ruined skirt he'd had to cut away last night. The pressure of her eyes drew his gaze to hers as he carefully slipped his arms underneath her and lifted her off the bed. Immediately she twined her arm around his neck and rested her weary head against his shoulder.

Fear clutched his heart as he held her to him, trembling through his being, a fear greater than any he'd ever known before. All his life, the things he'd cared about had been stripped from him. He didn't think he could endure it if he lost her, lost them.

He should put them on a boat and take them to New Orleans himself, as soon as they were strong enough to travel. He should take them far from him and see to it that they had a comfortable home and everything money could buy before taking himself out of their lives forever. But if they were so far away, how could he keep them safe?

Never had he been so confused, so trapped by a situation that brought him the fiercest joy and deepest fear he'd ever experienced.

He knew from the rhythm of her breathing that Caroline had fallen asleep again. She'd surrendered herself into his care last night because she'd had no choice. But how could she continue to trust him after what he'd done, what he'd almost done, what he was? He didn't deserve it, any of it. He didn't deserve her or a perfect son or her unreserved trust.

Winding his way through the smiling, gaping men who moved aside to let them pass, he tried to clear his mind, tried to think rationally, but in the blink of an eye, he had lost every ounce of logic he'd ever possessed. In the blink of an eye, he'd been transformed into something he didn't understand or particularly like.

There were no more walls, nothing to protect him from his own emotions. All he had to do was look at his son or at this extraordinary woman who had believed in him when he didn't believe in himself, this woman who had taken his seed and given him a child.

Every time he gazed at them or thought of them, the walls dissolved and the emotions he'd tried so hard to cut off assaulted him with a vengeance.

It was as if his heart had been turned inside out and all his feelings lay bare and unprotected for all to see.

It scared the hell out of him.

Caroline awoke with a start, listening intently for any sound from the crib at the end of her bed. When none came, she relaxed back on the pillow once again.

She'd been dreaming about the storm. Over the last few weeks since Jason brought her back to the fazenda, she'd been slowly remembering things about that terrible accident. The memories came to her in the form of hideous nightmares. Tonight she'd dreamed of falling through the air, helplessly buffeted by fierce winds. When her body slammed into the roiling water, the impact had awakened her.

How had she ever survived, she wondered for the hundredth time. Why had she lived when the others had not?

Shivering in the darkness, she remembered waking on the riverbank, covered with mud, racked with pain, unable to move. If Jason hadn't found her, she'd have almost certainly died. He'd saved her life, hers and their child's.

Pushing the covers down, she climbed out of bed, careful not to jostle the injured arm that Ines had set properly following Caroline's instructions. Her heart swelled with joy and love as she gazed down at her little Jase.

Caroline wondered how Jason would react to her decision to name the baby after him. It wasn't official, of course, but she couldn't continue thinking of him as the baby or the child, as if he were an object instead of a little person. And since Jason had chosen to avoid them both, she'd picked a name herself. Even if Jason objected strenuously, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to think of him by any other name.

Running her hands lovingly over the raw-wood surface of the small crib, she smiled into the darkness, thinking of how frantically the men had worked to build it upon her return. Jason had bemoaned its roughhewn appearance, but it meant more to her than any expensive store-bought cradle ever could.

And the women had been equally kind, gifting her with potions to make the baby sleep, to make him eat better, to make him grow faster, and though she couldn't bring herself to use any of them, she managed to appear grateful. Their time and their knowledge she did treasure and use, but when Ines had suggested that she find a wet nurse, that it wasn't quite proper for the patrona to nurse her own child, Caroline had refused flatly.

Having to nurse the baby herself might seriously curtail her freedom, but she didn't care one whit. There was nowhere else she'd rather be than with her son, unless, of course, she was with his father.

Jason had saved them both from the jungle and the river. If only she could save him from himself.

She closed her eyes with a sigh. Some things never changed, at least Jason never changed. He was infuriatingly predictable. In the weeks since they returned, he hadn't spoken more than three words to her. He'd avoided her. practically living in the orchards, probably sleeping at the beneficio, even though the fires had long since died out and the danger to what was left of the trees was over.

Well, he might be able to ignore her, but he hadn't been able to achieve that level of indifference where his son was concerned. More than once, she'd caught him standing over the cradle in the main sitting room, gazing down at the infant with such a stark, bottomless yearning that she was forced to turn away. It was as if he was suddenly afraid to touch little Jase, after delivering him and caring for him through that first night.

Assured that Jase was fine and sleeping soundly, she left the bedroom for the sitting room, stopping before the window and gazing down at the courtyard below.

There he was, sitting at the stone table, his head in his hands. She stiffened at the sight of the bottle on the table before him.

Driven by anger and frustration, Caroline tore the door open and marched down the stairs, not stopping until she stood over his hunched form. Reluctantly he lifted his head, his glazed, blood-shot eyes narrowing at the sight of her.

"Is this your answer, Jason?" she asked bitterly. "Will you deal with life by staying drunk?"

She grabbed the bottle, intent on smashing it on the patio as he'd done once before. To her surprise, the bottle was full, the seal unbroken.

Her first thought was that he had dispatched another bottle and this was his second, but when he opened his mouth to speak, she detected not a trace of liquor on his breath. Something else had caused the glazed, lost look in his eyes.

"I can't let you go," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Caroline. I... I just can't... You have no reason to believe me when I tell you I'd never hurt you or our child, not after all I've done. But I won't come near you, either of you. If I can just see you and know that you're here, maybe it will be enough. It'll have to be enough."

Impulsively, Caroline reached out to him, wanting somehow to ease the agony in his soul. She rested a hand on his broad shoulder, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers.

"Jason, we can't live in the same house and never speak to one another. You know that won't work. I can't bear it when you withdraw from me."

"It'll have to work," he said desperately, twisting away from her and coming to his feet. "I'll make it work. You have my word. I'll sleep at the beneficio from now on. I'll—"

"Foolish man," she muttered, shaking her head in a gesture of pity and helplessness. "You'll never hold your son again? You'll never want to make love to me again?"

He glared at her, running a hand through his hair. "Wanting and doing are two different things."

"It won't work, Jason." Did he truly believe it would?

"We can make it work. There's no other way because I'm not letting you go. I'll give you a gun and teach you how to use it, and if I ever touch either of you, I want you to shoot me...."

Caroline tried with all her might but couldn't stifle the laughter that welled up from her throat.

"This isn't funny, Caroline." The grimness of his expression pushed her closer to complete loss of control, but she forced herself to appear chagrined.

"I'm sorry, Jason. I can't help it. Are you finished with your nonsense?"

"Nonsense? Is that what you call it?"

"Yes. What do you call it? Listen to me, you've tried to send me away since I first arrived here. And I've tried to leave. We've both failed. Don't you see? We're meant to be together. I have no doubt that if I tried to leave again, another boat would capsize or alligators would pick me up and carry me back. I'm not going anywhere."

"Then we agree...."

"I listened to you, Jason," she said, taking him by the arm and guiding him back to the table. He didn't resist when she pushed him gently into the chair he'd vacated and stood close before him. "It's only fair that you hear me out. I know I talk too much. I know I've pushed you beyond the bounds of human restraint. I'm sorry for trying to force you to change, to become what I thought I wanted you to be. I want you just the way you are. You are everything I want."

"How can you say that? You were right about me. I am a coward."

"Yes, you're a coward because you're afraid of loving and being loved. You won't let anyone near you, not even me or especially not me. I'm afraid, too, afraid of losing you.”

“You can't lose me,” he said. “I won't allow it.”

Lifting his face with her good hand in order to look into his eyes, Caroline murmured, "Shut up, foolish man, and kiss me."

Her lips came down on his and his mouth opened to welcome her. Though she initiated the kiss, he soon took control, kissing her fiercely, possessively, caressing her gently, as if she were something precious.

"I love you, Caroline," he said, his voice raw with desire and emotion, "but for the life of me, I can't understand how you could care for me. I can't even understand why you came here, after reading those damned letters I wrote to—" he stopped himself with a laugh, "—I thought I'd written to Derek."

"But that's exactly why I came," she explained. "You let me glimpse your heart in those letters. If not for those letters, I'd have run away screaming a long time ago."

"I don't even know why I wrote those things," he said thoughtfully.

"I think I do," she said with a smile. "When I started writing back, you started opening up. I think you sensed a kindred spirit, even though you weren't even aware of it."

"Maybe you're right," he agreed, his eyes glowing with admiration and love. "But they were filled with dark tales of my past."

"Yes, but they spoke of a man in torment, a man with a beautiful soul who only needed the right woman to convince him of his own goodness and to make him happy, in spite of himself. Are you happy?"

Jason buried his face in the crook of her neck, growling deep in his throat. "You terrify me, do you know that?"

"Why?"

"Because you know me so well."

Caroline drew back so that she could look into his eyes. "I'll never betray you, Jason. Never. I'll always love you."

"A miracle, that's what you are," he said, kissing her hungrily again.

Finally Caroline pulled away, gazing into his beloved face. "The miracle is upstairs sound asleep and waiting for his parents to give him a name."

Jason smiled. "I'm not good at this kind of thing. Surely over the months you've thought of names."

Smiling mischievously, Caroline said, "Well, I thought we might name him Jason."

She felt his body tense beneath her and waited expectantly. "After me? But—"

"I like it," she interrupted. "Jason Sinclair Junior. Of course, we'll call him Jase to avoid confusion."

"Do you really want to name him after me?"

"Very much. I can't think of a more appropriate name, Jason. He is your son. And you saved us both. You brought him into the world. You were the first one to hold him, to see him."

"I know," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I'll never forget that moment.... Neither will you, I suppose."

Caroline shrugged, pushing the memory of pain and fear from her mind. "I remember you talking to me, telling me everything would be all right. I remember you holding him up so I could see him. The pain doesn't even matter now. He's so beautiful, so perfect."

"Oh, God, you'll never know how much I love you."

"Tell me! Tell me!" she teased.

Jason laughed. "I never have told you, have I? I told Ignacio in the wedding ceremony, but I've never told you."

Now it was Caroline's turn to laugh, as she imagined Jason and Ignacio standing before the local magistrate repeating wedding vows. It was funnier than the picture of her and Melanie.

"I've got it!" Jason shouted, coming to his feet and carrying her with him. "We'll have another ceremony. We'll speak our vows to each other."

"That sounds wonderful! We'll wait for the priest—"

"Wait? I don't want to wait. Let's set our new wedding date for three days from now."

"Three days? But how--"

"You just leave the details to me. Three days from tonight, Mrs. Sinclair!"

"But Jason, how...?"

"For once, don't argue, Caroline. For once, just trust me."

"I trust you forever and always, Jason. Never doubt that."