“You got pictures? How the hell do they take pictures before it’s born?”
Tate pulled his wallet out and carefully extracted the image, handing it to Joe. “It’s called an ultrasound.”
Joe held it at arms’ length, then pulled it in closer. “What am I looking at here?”
Abby leaned closer to him and pointed. “That’s its head. See, there’s its eyes and cheeks and that right there is a nose.”
“Well, I’ll be damned if it ain’t. And cute as a button. Ain’t science wonderful?” He studied the picture. “Nope, Buddy’s wrong. It’s a boy. Any fool could tell that. Don’t look a bit like a girl.” He handed the picture back to Tate. “Speaking of Buddy, where is the squirt tonight?”
“Over at Tommy Johnson’s. They’re supposed to be studying, but I figure they’re probably watching TV. I told him to be home by ten.” Tate glanced at his watch.
Joe drained the last of his coffee. “Well, tell him I said hello. I’d best be on my way. Have to get up early tomorrow.” He pushed his seat back and stood. “Ma’am, thanks for the coffee. It’s been a pleasure meeting you proper. I’ll see you at the party Saturday.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Tate stood and followed him.
Joe was silent until he pulled the truck door closed behind him, then he leaned on the opened window frame and looked at Tate closely. “I like her. And damned if that smile of hers don’t knock a man’s socks plum off.” He hesitated. “I know you might not think so right now, but you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Hoss. Maybe one of these days you’ll figure that out for yourself.” He turned the key over. “See you Saturday.”
Tate watched the truck vanish down the driveway in a billow of dust, then turned back to the house. Through the kitchen window he could see Abby clearing off the table and washing cups. For a while he just stood there watching her.
Lucky? He sure didn’t feel lucky. He felt like he was being torn in half. And he suspected it was going to get a lot worse before it got better. Assuming it would ever get better.
Diane’s image flashed through his mind and he turned from the window. A little over a week and she’d be home. Could he stay away from her? He’d have to for both their sakes, no matter how much it hurt.
He had to remember the baby. That was really the only thing that mattered now. It didn’t seem possible, he reflected, to love something that much when you’d never held it, never even seen it, really. But he did. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his child. Even give up the woman he loved to live the rest of his life with one he didn’t.
He glanced back through the window, but Abby was gone, and he could hear the sound of movement from the living room. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. He did like her and lots of marriages had been based on less than that.
Another set of headlights caught him in a beam of light and he watched as Buddy pulled the truck up next to the house and stopped.
“You’re late.” Tate looked pointedly at his watch.
“Only by ten minutes. I passed Joe down the road. Is he coming to the party Saturday?”
“Do you think I could stop him?” He followed Buddy inside.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson said they’d be here, too. Mrs. Johnson is going to bring some of her homemade peach pies.”
Abby was squatted in front of the couch, picking pamphlets up off the floor and stacking them neatly on the coffee table.
“What are you doing?” Buddy eyed her curiously.
“Just straightening up. I dropped these earlier.” She stood and glanced at Tate before looking quickly away. “Did you get your homework finished?”
“Geesh. You’re starting to sound like Tate. What is this, a conspiracy? Yes, I finished my homework. Did you?”
She smiled at him. “All done and mailed this morning.”
“You’re gonna make me look bad, you know.”
“I doubt it. And I never would have figured that math out without your help.”
Buddy gave Tate a smug smile. “See? I do know what I’m doing.”
“I suppose there’s a first time for everything. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“Like there’s any chance of that with you around.”
Abby had finally finished stacking the papers. “Well, I think I’m off to bed. Goodnight.” She sent them both a smile then went up the stairs.
“I think I’ll do the same thing.” Buddy shifted his books from one arm to the other.
“Hey.”
Tate waited until his brother looked at him. “Be sure and put your clothes in the hamper. Abby does enough around here without having to pick up after you.”
“Sure. You going to bed?”
He nodded. “Just as soon as I turn the lights off.”
“Okay. See you in the morning.”
“Night.”
Tate waited until Buddy got up the stairs, then moved though the quiet house, flipping off lights as he went. His gaze fell on the couch as he went back through the living room and he paused.
Why couldn’t he seem to keep his hands off Abby? It wasn’t like he was desperate. And why couldn’t he stop remembering the way she felt in his arms, the way she tasted? God, and the way she’d seemed to melt into him when he kissed her. He’d never felt anything like it before in his life. Another few minutes and he’d never have been able to stop. Hadn’t wanted to stop when he had.
He forced his feet back into action and slipped upstairs to his bedroom. Stripping his clothes off, he climbed into bed and lay staring into the darkness.
Just a few steps down the hall Abby was curled up in bed, no doubt wearing that damn see-through nightshirt. He could picture every inch of her with no trouble at all. Her hair was probably tangled over her face, hiding those dark eyes behind that silken veil. One fist would be tucked in by her cheek, and one knee pulled up tightly against her, exposing the sweet curve of her hip.
Tate groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. He was torturing himself and he couldn’t seem to stop. If he couldn’t find a way to control this, and damn soon, he was going to die. The thought of a cold shower entered his mind, but he discarded it immediately. All he needed right now was to have everyone in the house up, wondering why he was taking a shower in the middle of the night.
With a curse, he flopped onto his stomach and rammed his fist into the pillow. It was, he suspected, going to be a long time until daylight.
Chapter Ten
Tate could smell supper cooking all the way from the barn and a small surge of expectation rippled over him. The sensation was totally foreign to him and he paused to savor it before heading for the house. It was kind of nice to know that he wasn’t coming home to cold food and being alone, he decided.
For once, Dog wasn’t lying positioned by the back door as he had been for the last few days. While he couldn’t actually prove it, Tate suspected that Abby had been stuffing the animal with leftovers. Whether it was the hope of more handouts or a case of undying devotion, Dog was never far from Abby lately.
Tate’s smile faded a little as he went through the back door and discovered the kitchen was empty. The oven was on, but there was no sign of Abby.
“Abby?” His voice seemed to ring hollowly in the house. There was no answer. Worry started to build as he checked each room on the ground floor. The truck was still parked next to the house. She had to be there.
What if she were hurt? He ran up the stairs, fear escalating as different scenarios raced across his mind. She’d slipped and was lying unconscious and bleeding. Something was wrong with the baby. She’d had a miscarriage.
Heart pounding, he looked in every room, even Buddy’s, but Abby was nowhere to be found. Think, he told himself. She wasn’t in the house, so that meant she had to be outside somewhere.
He went back though the kitchen, forcing himself to slow down, and stopped on the back porch. “Abby?”
“I’m out here!”
Relief made his knees go weak at the faint sound of her
voice. It had come from the direction of the chicken coop. He got there just in time to hear a loud sneeze. A billow of dust erupted from the opened door as Tate watched in amazement.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
Abby’s head suddenly appeared from the cloud of debris that was settling to the ground. Her hair was full of cobwebs and her face was so dirty she looked like a raccoon. Her eyes were constantly blinking from the grit that had gotten into them.
“Hank…” she paused to give a lady-like spit. “Hank called and said she was bringing the chickens over tomorrow. I wanted to make sure we were ready for them. Good thing I checked. This place is filthy. There’s so much dirt on the floor that I can’t even find the bottom.”
“You’re cleaning…” Tate’s words sputtered to a halt and he started laughing. The more indignant Abby looked, the harder he laughed until he was hanging onto the fence for support.
“What’s so funny?” She glared at him, hands on hips.
“The floor,” he choked, “is dirt! It doesn’t have a bottom.” He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to get a grip. “Abby, all chicken houses are like this one. The chickens don’t care. All that needs doing is putting some fresh straw in the laying boxes.”
“Well, someone should have told me that to start with.” She reached back inside for the broom and then marched toward the house, her back stiff. The only thing that ruined the effect was the dust that spilled from her with each step. Apparently she was aware of her condition, because she stopped at the back steps and jumped up and down a few times, then tried to shake her whole body.
Tate was holding his breath to the point of asphyxiation, trying not to laugh again when she looked at him over her shoulder.
“I can’t go in the house like this!”
Smothering his grin, Tate thought about it. “Wait here.”
He went through the house, returning in a few seconds with a sheet. Unfolding it, he motioned Abby onto the porch and held it up between them. “Okay, strip, then you can wrap this around you until you get to the shower.”
“You want me to undress out here in the open?”
“Abby, there’s not another soul but me for miles around. No one is going to see you.”
She eyed the sheet. “Hold it higher.”
He complied, raising it above eye level. “Better?”
“I guess.” She still sounded doubtful, but he heard the thump when her shoes hit the floor, then a rustling noise as she removed the rest of her clothes.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
Tate suddenly found himself in a quandary. If he lowered the sheet enough to get it around her, he was going to see a lot more than she obviously wanted him to. On the other hand, they couldn’t stand out here like this forever.
Taking a deep breath, he lowered the sheet slightly then rapidly reached around her with the edges. Abby grabbed them and pulled them tightly closed, but not before he got a good look at her body. Desire hit him hard, knocking his held breath right back out of him. He had to fight to get his arms back at his sides.
Thank God, Abby didn’t seem to notice. She was already going in the back door, looking like a ten-year-old dressed up in her mama’s clothes. But he’d seen and felt those curves of hers, and knew they didn’t belong on a child.
By the time she’d showered, changed and made it back to the kitchen, he finally had his body under control again, but just barely. Buddy came in right behind her.
“Man, it smells good in here. What’s for supper?”
“Roast.” Abby smiled at him. “Why don’t you get washed up? It’s almost ready.”
“I’ll set the table while you finish up the food.” Tate dodged Buddy, then turned to the cabinet and got the plates out. He carried them to the table and arranged them carefully in the right spots. He was going back to get the silverware when the phone rang. Snagging it off the stand as he passed, he eyed the silverware drawer, wondering if the cord was long enough to reach.
“Hello.”
“Hi, sugar.” The voice was low and sultry, one he knew better than his own. Diane. Tate froze, the blood draining from his face. He could feel both Buddy’s and Abby’s eyes on him.
“Where are you?” He turned to face the wall, one arm braced above him for the support he so desperately needed right now.
“I’m at the airport. The plane just arrived, but I couldn’t wait to call you.”
“A little early, aren’t you?” He tried to keep his voice low, but it sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the kitchen.
“I missed you. Being on an island isn’t much fun when you’re alone. It’s been almost a week, Tate. Why don’t I get a cab and come by your place? Maybe we can get your brother to leave for a few hours.”
“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut to try and still the panic. “Just wait. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Is something wrong? You sound funny.”
“Just wait there, okay?”
“Okay.” She paused. “Tate? Bring my ring with you. I feel naked without it. And hurry. I love you.”
“I know.”
He hung the phone up without turning around. He couldn’t look at Abby right now, didn’t want to see the knowledge on her face. “I have to leave.”
“Should I save your supper?” Her voice was almost as low as his had been.
“No, I’ll get something later.” He only stopped long enough to grab the keys off the hook by the door before leaving.
* * * * *
Tate found a parking place right in front of the airport doors. Now, he had to dredge up enough energy to get out of the truck and go through them. It felt like he’d aged twenty years in the last few minutes. He’d believed he had another week, had counted on it. He should have known Diane never did anything the way she was supposed to.
His feet weighed a ton, but he managed to get inside, his gaze sweeping the building. And then she was there, in his arms, her lips on his. For a second he allowed himself to kiss her back, knowing it would probably be for the last time, then he gently pulled away from her.
She kept one arm around his waist as she smiled up at him.
“Did you miss me?”
“You know I did.” He started to push a lock of hair away from her face then let his hand drop.
“Good. Maybe next time you’ll come with me. It would be a perfect place for our honeymoon.”
Tate felt as though he were smothering. “Where are your bags?”
“Right here.” She gestured to a cart that sat to one side. “Tate, do you feel all right? You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” He picked up the leather bags. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Great. I can’t wait to get you alone.”
Every word out of her mouth was like rubbing salt in an open wound. By the time he tossed her bags into the back of the truck he was shaking like a newborn foal.
As soon as he slid under the wheel, Diane moved across the seat until she was almost in his lap, her hand curling around the back of his neck. An image of Abby, cowering against the other door as if she were afraid to touch him, flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away.
“Did you bring my ring?” Diane’s fingers were playing with the hair at his nape as he started the truck and pulled out.
“No, I didn’t.”
She was watching him closely, her green eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“We have to talk, Diane, but not here.”
“Talk about what? You’re not still mad at me for leaving, are you?”
“No.”
“I’ll bet Daddy’s been after you again about giving you the money for a new house, hasn’t he? You have to understand, Tate. He only wants the best for me.”
Tate clenched his jaw. “I haven’t seen your father since before you left.”
“Then I give up. What is it?”
“We’ll talk about it when I get you home.”
“Fine.” She
threw her hands up in the air and moved away from him, leaning forward to study her reflection in the rear view mirror. “You know, maybe we should find a place with a milder climate for our honeymoon. My tan looks great, but the saltwater was horrible for my complexion. What do you think?”
He flicked his gaze to the mirror. “You look fantastic. Like always.”
“I do, don’t I?” She stretched like a contented cat. “The heat was wonderful. Just lying on the beach baking all day. And we found some of the cutest shops. I even got you one of those flowered shirts. It’s in my suitcase.”
Tate glanced at her. “We?”
She smiled at him. “Some people I met at the hotel.”
Weariness settled over him like a pall. She was lying, of course. He knew her too well not to recognize the signs. She hadn’t been alone.
He flipped on the turn signal and pulled into her driveway. It wasn’t his problem anymore, he tried to tell himself. Right now, he had to concentrate on telling her about Abby and the baby. That was going to be bad enough without the added complications of her infidelity.
Tate carried the suitcases in and left them in the hall while Diane looked around.
“I guess Daddy is out.”
Nothing new about that, Tate thought. He usually was out. Diane liked to pretend she was daddy’s little princess, but the truth was, the man had left her raising to the servants. He seemed to think throwing money at her made up for his lack in the parenthood department.
It hadn’t and Tate was probably the only one who knew the truth. She’d always confided in him, from the time they’d been little more than kids. And now he was going to hurt her more than her father ever had.
He went into the study and stopped at the wide expanse of windows, gazing out at neatly manicured lawns that seemed to go on forever. Diane came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his back.
“What did you want to talk about?”
Tate swallowed but kept his eyes on the view. There was no way to make this any easier. “While you were gone, I got married.”
For an instant there was total silence, then she laughed. “I knew you were still mad at me, but it’s really not necessary to make cruel jokes, Tate. I said I was sorry. If it will make you feel any better, from now on, I promise not to go away unless you can come with me.”