“You’re on.” Tate slapped Joe’s outstretched hand.
“Later,” Abby said firmly. “After it cools off a little.”
* * * * *
Tate sat perfectly still, only his hands moving as he rubbed Abby’s feet. Whether from the heat, the pregnancy or a combination of both, they were a little swollen. Abby had fallen asleep five minutes into the massage, but he didn’t stop. It was as good an excuse to touch her as any.
He studied her face while she slept, ignoring the mobs of people that ebbed and flowed around them. She had become so much a part of him in the last few months that only now did he realize how much she’d filled out. He doubted she’d ever carry an extra pound, but the gauntness of her body had become rounder, softer. No longer did dark circles lie beneath the long lashes that brushed her cheeks. He had seen women that might be considered more beautiful than she was but Abby had a quiet elegance that was rare and special.
She must have been tired to fall asleep amid all the noise. A tickle of unease furrowed his brow. Something was bothering her and whatever it was, she didn’t want to talk about it. He’d lost count of the times he’d looked up to find her watching him, a pensive expression on her face.
When he asked her point-blank if something was wrong, she just smiled and told him no. It was beginning to scare him. Surely she wouldn’t do anything stupid. She had to know how much she needed him to take care of her and the baby. That was why she’d agreed to marry him in the first place.
No. He shook his head silently. They had gotten so close, things had been so perfect the last few months, that he had to believe he was just imagining a problem where there wasn’t one.
“Is she okay?”
He glanced up as Joe stopped next to him. “Yeah. I think she was just tired.” Both men kept their voices low. “The nap should help.” He looked back at Abby. Her lips were turned up at the corners.
“You two can stop whispering. I’m awake.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around. “Is that a breeze I feel?”
“Yes.” Tate rubbed her leg. “The storm is getting closer. May not wait until tonight after all.”
“How long did I sleep?”
“About an hour. Feel better now?”
“I’m feeling the distinct need for a stuffed bear.” She grinned at them. “Shall we?”
Tate held his hand out and helped her to her feet, waiting while she slipped her sandals back on. “One stuffed bear coming up.” He dropped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the midway, Joe taking up a position on her other side.
* * * * *
Abby tossed the remains of her caramel apple in the trash can, shutting her eyes briefly as a gust of wind blew dirt and grit into the air. A poster flew by only to catch on the edge of the stand before it tore lose and spun high above the crowds. Squeals echoed from several women as they tried to hold down the skirts of their dresses. The muted rumble of thunder could be heard even above the noise of the celebration.
Chill bumps raced over her skin at the sudden difference in temperature and she glanced at the booth where Tate and Joe were concentrating on knocking down a row of ducks with guns that looked tiny in their hands. She waited until Tate put the rifle down and reached for another dollar, then touched his arm. “Tate, maybe we should head back and start packing up.”
He tilted his head back to look up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Okay, just one more round and we’ll go. I think I’ve got it figured out now.”
Picking up the gun, he took careful aim. There was a sharp ping and one of the ducks went down. With only a slight hesitation, he pulled the trigger again. The second duck went down. He threw Abby a grin of triumph and aimed again.
Abby laughed with delight when the third metal duck lost its fight for life. “You did it!”
“Damn.” Joe glared at Tate. “You just got lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. Pure skill. Now pay up.”
Joe grumbled as he pulled out his wallet and handed over the money.
Tate stuck it in his pocket. “Okay, sweetheart, pick your bear.”
“That one.” She pointed to a deep purple bear and the attendant handed it over. It was huge, its fake fur velvety soft, and she hugged it tightly before standing on tiptoe to kiss Tate. “Thank you.”
“Hey, I tried, you know.”
She grinned at Joe, then kissed his cheek. “Thank you for trying.”
“Watch it, Blackburn. That’s my wife you’re flirting with.”
Joe rubbed his jaw gingerly. “Don’t worry, Hoss. I still remember how hard your fist is.”
Another gust of wind hit and lightning split the sky. This time all three of them looked up as thunder cracked.
Tate’s hand closed around her arm. “Come on. If we don’t hurry it’s going to be raining before we get to the truck.”
Apparently everyone else in the park had the same thought. Hordes of people blocked the midway, all heading in the same direction. In spite of the two men protecting her from the crush, she felt smothered. Tension began to build inside her and she clung to her bear with a death grip as they moved slowly through the crowd.
“This way.” Tate pulled her through an opening, weaving his way clear with Joe following. “We can get through between these booths.”
She took a deep breath of the cooler air, then shivered. A huge drop of rain hit the dirt in front of her and splattered in all directions. Another landed on her arm, stinging with the force of its fall. In front of them a fork of lightning arched to the ground and thunder shook the area.
“Damn, we aren’t going to make it to the truck!” Tate was yelling to be heard above the wind. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she nodded in case he couldn’t hear her. “Just keep going.”
“Tate!” Buddy appeared out the gathering darkness. “I’ve already loaded everything. I’m getting out of here.”
“Amy?”
“She left with her folks,” the teenager yelled back, one hand battling the wind to hold his hat in place.
“Okay, be careful. We’re right behind you.”
Rain was hitting all around them now and she felt Joe’s hand on her back to steady her as Tate rushed them forward at a half-run.
“The truck’s over this way. We’re almost there.” The words were barely out of his mouth when the sky opened. With a crashing roar, the downpour swept over them, drenching them to the skin in seconds.
A gasp tore its way from Abby’s throat as the icy water hit her. Her foot hit a spot of mud and she slid a step before Joe caught her.
“Tate!” The voice was high-pitched, frantic. “Please!”
Nearly blinded by the deluge, Abby didn’t see the blonde until she staggered right into Tate’s arms.
“Diane!” Abruptly, he released Abby’s wrist, trying to support the blonde as she collapsed against him and slid to the ground.
“Help me, please.”
“Diane, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Other people were stopping in spite of the rain, a small group gathering around. Diane was oblivious to all of them, her hands clutching Tate’s shoulders as he knelt next to her in the mud.
“He hit me.” Her voice scaled up on the end. “He wouldn’t stop. You have to make him stop, Tate.”
Abby tried to still her pounding heart as Joe knelt beside them, his hands running over Diane’s arms and legs. One of her eyes was swollen shut and a thin trickle of blood mixed with the rain at one corner of her lips.
Diane ignored him, her gaze fixed on Tate. “Don’t let him take me back. Promise me you won’t. He’ll kill me.”
“Let’s put her in my truck. I’ll take her to the hospital. Doesn’t look like anything’s broken, but we need to be sure.”
“No,” Tate’s voice lifted above the pounding rain. “I’ll take her.” He lifted Diane into his arms and started toward the truck.
Abby stood rooted to the ground, her eyes never leaving his ret
reating back. Inside, she was as cold as the rain that beat over her.
“Abby?”
She was only vaguely aware of the crowd dispersing, barely aware that Joe was talking to her. When he pulled on her arm, she allowed herself to be led, unresisting, to his truck.
Not until he pushed her inside and slammed the door did she realize that she was still clutching the bear. It was a sodden lump of cotton now, its fur leaving streaks of purple where it dripped onto her leg. Very carefully, she let it drop to the floorboard and used her foot to push it aside.
“Here.” Joe had pulled a blanket from behind the seat. “Put this around you until I can get the heat going.”
Numbly, she did as he told her, knowing that it wouldn’t help. She was never going to be warm again.
“Abby, are you okay? You’re white as a sheet. Don’t worry. We’ll be at the hospital before you know it.”
“No.” His words galvanized her into speech. “Don’t take me there. Take me hom…” She swallowed hard against the pain paralyzing her throat. “Take me to the ranch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m positive.”
He started the truck. “Maybe you’re right. You need to get out of those wet clothes. We can call the hospital from there.”
She didn’t bother to answer, just huddled deeper into the blanket as he drove through the rain. She knew what she had to do. Had known all along this day would come. But that didn’t make it any easier, didn’t stop the agony that filled her or the tears that wet her face.
“Abby.” Joe glanced at her. “You know Tate had to take her to the hospital don’t you?”
“Do I?” She reached up and wiped the tears away.
“You saw what kind of shape she was in.”
“Yes, I saw.”
“Then what’s wrong?” He touched her cheek.
Abby took a long breath, eyes shut while she gathered her courage. “He made his choice, Joe. And he chose Diane.”
“What are you talking about?” He sounded alarmed.
Pulling the blanket tighter around her, she glanced at him. “You could have taken her to the hospital. There were ten other people there who could have done it. He wouldn’t let you. He had to do it himself. He didn’t even look around, didn’t say a word to me. He forgot I was there. The only thing he was thinking about was Diane. He still loves her.”
She looked out the window, watching as the truck turned into the long drive leading to the ranch. The rain had already slowed into a steady drizzle.
“You said it yourself. Tate is torn between his responsibilities. I’ve always wondered what would happen if he thought she needed him more than I did. Now I know. I guess I’ve always known. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
“Well, hell.” He braked to a stop in front of the house. “Why are you the only person in the state who ever listens to me?” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Abby, it’s you he loves. I’d stake my life on it.”
She gave him a wan smile. “No, he doesn’t, Joe. He wants me. There’s a big difference. And it’s a difference I can’t live with anymore.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to be making a few choices of my own.” She reached for the door latch. “Starting right now. I guess you could say it really is Independence Day.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abby darted through the rain onto the porch, pausing only long enough to slip out of her muddy sandals. Buddy was standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze swinging between her and Joe.
“Where’s Tate?” He took a step closer. “Abby, what’s wrong? You’ve been crying.”
The lump in her throat expanded again and she shook her head, unable to go through another explanation.
“I’ll tell him.” Joe put a hand on her arm. “You go get out of those wet clothes.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She fled up the stairs, her bare feet making no sound on the smooth wood. Once in the bedroom, she stripped rapidly, changing into jeans, a T-shirt and her sneakers.
Afraid that if she paused even for a second she’d lose her courage, she began pulling clothes out of the closet and drawers. There was no suitcase. She spun to the cedar chest and took out a pillowcase, a hysterical laugh bubbling up from inside. She’d arrived carrying a paper bag. A pillowcase had to be a step up.
Working frantically, she crammed the clothes into it, not bothering to be neat. When there was nothing left to pack, she finally stopped, her sweeping gaze pausing on the bed. The bed where they had made love this morning.
Anguish choked her again, but she forced it away and turned back to the closet. Tate’s windbreaker was hanging inside and she pulled it off the hanger and put it on. Grief lanced through her as his scent enfolded her. The jacket swallowed her whole, hanging almost to her knees, but she didn’t care. Wishing desperately that it were his arms, she wrapped it tighter around her body.
Picking up the pillowcase, she walked to the door then turned to take one last look. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.
Both Buddy and Joe stood as she entered the living room, Buddy’s glance going to the pillowcase. His face was deathly white.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
Abby put the pillowcase on the couch and went to him, her hands cupping his face, her entire body tense with the effort not to cry again. “Yes, I am.” Her hand brushed the unruly dark hair back from his forehead. “Try to understand, Buddy. I can’t stay here anymore knowing how Tate feels about Diane. It was a mistake to come in the first place, although I can’t regret it.” She forced herself to smile. “I did get to know you. I’m going to miss you.”
“No, you aren’t.” His face set in stubborn lines. “I’m coming with you. You don’t have any place to go, no one to take care of you.”
“Buddy, you know you can’t do that. Besides, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“I need you to take care of the garden and the chickens.” She hesitated. “And take care of Tate for me, Buddy.”
“But where are you going?” His voice broke on the last word.
“For now, it’s better that you don’t know. I don’t want to put you in the position of having to lie to Tate. After I’m settled I’ll get in touch with you.” She gave him a slight shake. “I expect you to come visit me, you know. This baby will need its uncle.”
She glanced at Joe, standing silently to one side. “I need a ride, but if you’d rather not get involved, I can call a cab. You’re Tate’s best friend and I don’t want to put you in the middle.”
“I’m your friend too, Abby. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Wait!” Buddy turned and raced down the hall, returning almost immediately with an envelope. He shoved it into Abby’s hands. “That’s all the money we’ve got in the house. Take it.”
“Buddy, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Take it, Abby.”
She hesitated then slipped it into her pocket. “Okay, but I’m going to pay every penny of it back.”
“Ready?” Joe picked up the pillowcase.
Abby nodded then hugged Buddy tightly. “Goodbye,” she whispered. “Don’t forget, I love you and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
She couldn’t look at him again as she turned toward the door. She’d felt his tears on her skin and knew she’d break down if she did.
Dog was on the porch when she followed Joe out and she knelt, taking his shaggy face between her hands. His wet tongue laved her face. “Goodbye, Dog. Chase a rabbit for me, okay?”
She bolted to her feet and ran for the truck, the tears she’d been fighting streaming down her cheeks.
* * * * *
Tate paced restlessly in front of the emergency room door, trying to see inside each time he passed the window. He should have listened to her. His hands clenched at his sides as he remembered the bruise on her arm that day i
n the cafe. This was all his fault. There should have been a way to stop it before it went this far. He was supposed to protect her, not stand by and let her be hurt.
At the far end of his walk, he peered into the waiting room. He’d thought Joe and Abby would follow him, but there was no sign of them. They’d had plenty of time to get here by now. Maybe he should call home and make sure Abby was okay.
The door of the emergency cubicle swung open and a white-coated doctor stepped outside, reading a chart attached to a clipboard.
“Is she going to be okay?”
The doctor looked up, his gaze taking in Tate’s wet clothes. ”Are you the one who brought her in?”
“Yes.”
The man took Tate’s arm and moved him away from the door. “Her injuries aren’t that severe, just some bruising and a cut on her lip. Nothing is broken and there are no internal problems.” He hesitated. “Actually, I’m more worried about her mental state. For now, we’ve given her a strong sedative to calm her down, but I suggest you think about getting your wife some therapy. She seems to be confused about exactly who did this to her.”
Tate rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I’m not her husband. I’m just a friend.”
“Oh?” The doctor arched an eyebrow. “We’ll need her husband’s signature to admit her. Did she tell you who did this?”
“She just kept saying ‘he’. I thought she was talking about her husband. She told me once before she was afraid of him.”
“Until she’s able to tell us for sure, there’s not much we can do about it. I’m going to notify the police, but in the meantime we need to get her husband in here to fill out the papers.”
“I’ll find him,” Tate said grimly. “Can I see her before I leave?”
“I’m afraid she won’t know you’re there. The sedative makes her sleep.”
“I just need to see for myself that she’s okay.”
“For a minute, then.” He held the door open.
The privacy curtain was pulled around the bed, but Tate pushed it quietly to one side. Diane was asleep, the hospital gown looking worn and faded above the sheet. Someone had made an attempt to dry her hair, but it still hung in limp, damp strands, its paleness emphasizing the dark bruise that covered her eye. Bruises that he hadn’t seen before were now apparent below the short sleeves of the gown. Some were old, already fading to yellow. Others were obviously new and guilt warred with anger inside him. He clenched his teeth until his temples throbbed.