Always in Her Heart (2 page)

“Custody wouldn't be a sure thing, even if your sister had named you in her will. The court could still exercise its discretion.” He hesitated. “If these cousins do file for custody, the court might favor a local married couple over an out-of-state, single, working woman.”

That was what Link had said, and her heart sank. “What can I do? I might feel differently if they even cared about Marcy, but they don't.”

“Get a good attorney,” he said. “And pray for a sympathetic judge.”

She sat staring at the phone after she'd hung up,
trying to think her way through this. Had Becca ever mentioned an attorney she might call?

She was leafing through Becca's address book when she heard a faint wail. Dropping the book, she hurried up the stairs to Marcy's room.

Becca had decorated the nursery with pastel-colored animal figures. A line of yellow giraffes ambled across the wallpaper border, while a pink elephant formed the base of a lamp. Marcy stood in the white canopied crib, shaking the railing impatiently. Her fine blond hair curled damply around her face, and her cheeks were rosy with sleep.

“Up, up,” she demanded, holding out chubby arms to Annie. “Up, Nan.”

She'd happily be called “Nan” until Marcy mastered “Aunt Annie.” She scooped her niece from the crib, putting her cheek against the soft curls. “Did you have a good sleep, sweetpea?”

Marcy patted her face, and Annie's heart melted. Nothing had prepared her for the wave of sheer love she'd felt when she first held her sister's child.
Blood of my blood,
she'd thought, and known the infant had her heart in a tiny hand.

She dressed Marcy, listening to her mostly incomprehensible chatter, and took her downstairs. The doorbell rang as they reached the family room. Her defenses went up instantly, and she marched to the front door carrying Marcy. If Link had come back to press her for a decision again—

But it wasn't Link. Frank and Julia Lester stood at the door, wearing identical smiles.

“Frank. Julia. I wasn't expecting you.” She had an irrational urge to close the door in their faces. She stepped back. “Please, come in.”

“Naturally we came by to see how you're doing.” Frank led the way into the living room as if this were his home. “Yesterday was so difficult for all of us.”

“So difficult,” Julia echoed, her expression blank.

“Thank you.” They all stood awkwardly on the pale beige carpeting Becca had chosen. She should ask them to sit down, but if they stayed, she might blurt out Link's suspicions. “I appreciate everything you did to help, you know.”

“As Davis's closest relative, I felt responsible. Who else would do it?” Frank looked at his wife as if silently prompting her.

Julia glanced down at her silk jacket, then held out her hands to Marcy. “Why don't you let me take her.”

Annie's arms tightened around the baby, tension traveling along her nerves. Frank smiled, and Link's words echoed.

Frank smiles and smiles, and all the time he's looking for a weakness.

She told herself she didn't believe that, but Link's suspicions affected her anyway. “She just woke up. She doesn't feel like going to someone else just now.”

Julia stepped closer, determination in every line of
her fashionably thin figure. “The baby loves Cousin Julia. She'll come to me.”

Ridiculous, to feel menaced by the woman. Annie tried to produce a smile. “Not now. Much as I'd like to chat with you, I have a great deal to do. So if you'll excuse me…”

“Of course, of course. I'm sure you're busy getting packed to go back to Boston.” Frank's smile didn't falter. He moved closer, almost as if he and Julia were closing in on her.

Annie's tension jacked upward. “I'm not—”

“We realize how eager a career woman like you must be to get back to your job.” Frank reached for Marcy. “So we've come for the baby.”

 

He should have known Annie wouldn't let herself be swept along with his idea. Link swiveled his desk chair to look out the window of Conrad and Morgan, Builders. Their tiny offices were located diagonally across the town square from the house that had been “the Conrad place” for generations.

No, he should have approached Annie in a way she'd understand. She'd always had to have every detail at her fingertips.

That had come between them before, when he couldn't explain why he was so opposed to Davis's abrupt decision to propose to Becca, bound as he'd been by promises and obligations. Whatever had started between the two of them had come to an untimely end.

He rubbed at the tension that had taken up residence at the back of his neck since the state police call had wakened him with the news of Davis and Becca's accident. He and Davis smiled from the silver-framed photo atop the bookcase, taken the day they'd won the tennis doubles cup. He'd never hear Davis laugh again, never enjoy the interplay of ideas as they planned a new project, never see Davis's joy in his baby daughter.

Something steeled inside him. All he could do now for his friend was to ensure Marcy's inheritance. All he could do to protect the life he'd built in Lakeview was to save the company. Everyone in town knew how quickly Frank had run through his inheritance from his father. He wouldn't let that happen to the company, for Marcy's sake and his own. If the only way to those aims was marrying Annie, so be it.

An image of Annie's stubborn face formed in his mind. Now he had to convince the bride.

Once, he'd been intrigued by that cool exterior of hers, wanting to know what lay behind it. He'd thought he was breaking through to her until everything blew up in the face of Davis's sudden decision to elope.

He might be able to reach Annie again, but that armor of hers was probably stronger than it had been before.

The phone rang, and he reached for it. He'd given Vera Rowland, their secretary-receptionist, the day
off, assuming he'd get nothing accomplished so soon after the funeral.

“Link?”

Annie's voice sent him bolt upright in his chair. She sounded panic-stricken, and it took a lot to panic Annie Gideon.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

“Frank and Julia are here—” She choked on the words. “You'd better come.”

“I'll be right there.” He was on his feet as he said the words. “Hang on.”

He covered the small outer office in a few strides and slammed out the door. Crossing the street, he jogged diagonally across the pocket-size park that formed Lakeview's town square. At this hour on a September afternoon the only occupants were a couple of mothers with strollers and two elderly men feeding the squirrels. The park, like the Conrad house, exuded stability, roots, belonging. All the things he hadn't had before he'd come to Lakeview. All the things he wouldn't give up.

The door was unlocked, and he didn't bother to knock. Apprehension carried him into the living room.

Annie clutched Marcy, with Frank and Julia pressing in on her. Embattled, she sent him a look of appeal mingled with relief. That must be some kind of first—for Annie to feel relief at the sight of him.

He moved toward them, feeling the balance of power shifting at his presence. Frank had obviously
planned some sort of preemptive strike. Well, it wasn't going to work.

“Frank, Julia.” He'd keep a polite demeanor if it killed him. Losing his temper with Frank would only play into the man's hands. “What are you doing here?”

Frank's smile didn't falter. “I told Annie there was no need to call you. This is family business.”

“And I'm an outsider, I suppose. Annie did call me, so that means she wants me here.”

Annie was putting up a good front, but fear filled her brown eyes. “They wanted Marcy.”

He moved closer, putting his arm around her and the baby. She stiffened, then relaxed as if accepting that he was on her side.

He focused on her face, intent on erasing the fear. Frank shouldn't know she was afraid. “No one is taking Marcy. We won't let that happen.”

“This is family business,” Frank repeated. “As Davis's closest living relatives, my wife and I are the logical people to take care of little Marcy.”

“And take care of little Marcy's inheritance, too, I suppose.” His anger sparked.

Frank didn't seem affected by the accusation. “We're family,” he repeated. “As you said, you're the outsider.”

He tensed, but before he could say something he'd regret, Annie straightened.

“I'm Becca's sister. I'm the one she wanted to take
care of her child.” The fire was back in Annie's eyes. “I won't let her down.”

That fire seemed to bank Link's fury. Frank's attempt to take the child had wakened Annie to the danger they faced. That would work to his advantage in convincing her.

“I think a sister trumps a cousin, Frank. Maybe you and Julia better leave. You're not going to get what you want here.”

“Choosing sides, are you? Maybe you should reconsider, Annie. We can give Marcy a real family. You want what's best for her, don't you?”

“I'm what's best for her.” Her mouth set with a stubbornness he could have told Frank wouldn't be moved.

Maybe Frank recognized that fact. He shrugged, then gestured Julia toward the door. “Fine. We'll see you in court, then. I think you'll find Judge Carstairs will recognize the value of what we have to offer that little girl.”

They swept out. He felt Annie sag with relief when the door closed. Then, as if she realized she was leaning against him, she took a step away.

“Down,” Marcy said loudly, and Annie gave a weak laugh as she set the toddler on her feet.

“She was so still the whole time they were here. She must have sensed how scared I was.” She met his eyes gravely. “Thank you, Link.”

“I hate to say I told you so, but I did. Now do you understand?”

Annie's brown eyes clouded, and she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “You were right about the Lesters.”

“And I was right about what we have to do.” Didn't she realize that? “If you want to keep that child, this is the only solution, and the sooner we do it the better. The Lesters are probably consulting their attorney as we speak. There'll be a hearing, and we'd better go into it married if we're going to have a chance.”

“We have to see an attorney.”

“Annie—”

Anger flared in her eyes, but behind it he saw vulnerability. “I'm not going off half-cocked, so you might as well get used to the idea. We see a lawyer first. Then—” She seemed to take a breath. “Well, then we'll see what's best.”

He could say he already knew what was best, but he suspected that wasn't going to sway her. “I'll call Chet Longly. He's the lawyer the firm uses. Will he do, or do you want to find someone yourself?”

“He'll do.” She shivered.

He nodded, picking up the phone. At least she seemed to accept that he was irrevocably involved in this. For once, she couldn't avoid him.

And that was just as well, because one way or another, he intended to marry her.

A
nnie held the baby on her lap as she sat next to Link in the attorney's office the next morning, watching as every avenue of escape was blocked to her. Each word Chet Longly spoke seemed to make marriage to Link loom more inexorably.

She gazed past the attorney, trying to ease the sense of things closing in on her. His office, like every other important thing in the small town, faced the town square. Two days ago the flag at its center had hung at half-staff, in mourning for the funerals of two prominent citizens. Today the banner snapped in a brisk September breeze, colors bright in the sunshine.

Marcy wiggled, restless after a half hour's worth of adult conversation. Holding one arm around the baby's rounded middle, Annie reached into the diaper bag and pulled out one of the soft toys she'd tossed
in before leaving the house. Maybe that would occupy Marcy for a moment at least.

Becca's next-door neighbor had offered to watch Marcy during the appointment, and she'd turned her down so quickly that it was a wonder the grandmotherly woman hadn't taken offense. After that episode with the Lesters, she was afraid to leave Marcy with anyone. Maybe there wasn't anyone in this town she could trust.

Well, probably the man who had been Davis's attorney was trustworthy. He'd been openly apologetic that he'd never succeeded in getting Davis to make a will. Davis, like so many people, hadn't thought there was any hurry.

Who would have expected the unthinkable?

Lord, why did this happen? Why Davis and Becca?

There wasn't any answer to that, just as there hadn't been any answer during the long night when she'd asked God whether this marriage was the right thing to do.

She shot a sideways glance at Link while the attorney patiently explained the ramifications of a custody hearing. Link's grave, composed face gave no hint to his feelings. He thought he already knew the only answer.

“So, as I say, there's no cut-and-dried solution.” Chet Longly spread his hands, his open, friendly face troubled. “The judge has a great deal of discretion in a custody case. Even if you had written proof that Davis and Becca wanted you to take Marcy, the judge
could decide against that. It's not likely, but it could happen.”

Link stirred. “You agree that our case would be stronger if we were married.”

“I can't advise you to marry in an effort to deceive the court.” Chet said the words as if he walked on eggshells. “On the other hand, if you marry because you're fond of each other and because you want to provide security for a child you both love, I think that could tip the scales in your favor.”

Link glanced at her, his dark eyes seeming to say he'd told her so.

Well, he couldn't blame her for exploring every possibility, could he? Knowing Link, he probably could. He'd never had much patience with her passion for details.

“Also, there's the fact that Ms. Gideon is living in the Conrad house, already taking care of the child,” the attorney went on. “I hate to bring up the old saw about possession, but it does make the judge less likely to order a change that could be upsetting to the baby.”

Link's jaw tightened. “I suspect that was what Frank had in mind yesterday. If he'd gotten his hands on Marcy—”

Annie suppressed the shudder that moved through her. In those frightening moments, when she'd actually feared the Lesters would snatch Marcy from her arms, she'd turned to Link.

She needed help. Hard though it was to accept, she couldn't do this alone.

“Either way, the best thing is to set up a hearing before the judge as quickly as possible, before the Lesters take any other action.” The attorney stood, looking at them with concern in his face. “I'll leave you alone to discuss it for a few minutes.”

He crossed the room, his footsteps making little sound on the plush carpet. The door closed softly behind him.

She had to stop collecting options and make a decision. However much she might have resented it in the past, she knew that Link's loyalty had always been to Davis. If that loyalty extended to his daughter, maybe that was all she could ask.

“It's not easy, is it.”

She met Link's gaze, startled, to find that he was looking at her with sympathy.

“No.” She tried to swallow the lump that refused to leave her throat in spite of the fact that she'd cried every tear she had to shed in the past few days. “I spent most of the night praying about it. Maybe this is the only answer, but how can I take vows I don't mean?”

Link's hand tightened to a fist on the polished mahogany arm of the chair. “Don't you think I have qualms about that?”

“I didn't know it mattered to you.” She had assumed, when he'd stood next to her as godparents to
the baby, that he believed, but she hadn't probed deeper than that.

“It does.” He clipped the words off, his face grim. “You're not the only person to struggle with this, Annie.”

She tried to smile. “Are you getting any answers?”

“I don't pretend to be a great theologian—”

He leaned toward her, and she felt the intensity of his belief reaching out to her.

“—but I
am
sure it would be a greater wrong to let that baby go to people who don't care about her than to marry for reasons other than love.”

His words shot straight to her heart. She'd never expected to find the kind of all-consuming love Becca and Davis had. If marrying Link saved their baby, perhaps that was reason enough.

“If…if we do this, how long would our marriage have to last?”

Link frowned. “I don't know. But I'm not involved with anyone else, so I'm in no hurry. And from what Becca has said about you, I'm assuming you're not in a relationship right now, either.”

The thought of Becca discussing her love life with Link left a bad taste in her mouth. Had her sister thought her an object of pity because she didn't have a husband and child?

“That's not really the point.” She kept her voice cool. “I do have a life elsewhere.”

“Once the judge grants custody to us, I don't see any reason why you couldn't go ahead with your
plans to take Marcy back to Boston. After all, your parents are there and it would be logical for you to want to be near them. I'll stay here to manage the company. After a reasonable period of time, one of us can file for divorce.”

The image of her cozy apartment in Boston floated in front of Annie's eyes, a haven from the uncertainty and grief of the past days. She could take care of Marcy there without the constant reminders of her loss.

Marcy threw her black-and-white block, and it bounced harmlessly against the side of the desk. “Down,” she announced, wiggling her way off Annie's lap.

“Where are you going, little girl?” Link caught her before she could grab the cord and pull the telephone to the floor. “Here, have a look at this.” He handed her his key ring, and Marcy gave him an enchanting smile.

“She has Davis's smile, you know that?” He touched the baby's cheek lightly.

Annie glimpsed a sheen of tears in his dark eyes, and the sight disarmed her. It seemed to tear down some of the barricades she held against him.

“Yes, she does,” she said softly.

Link cleared his throat, as if he felt the same tightness she did. “Davis was my best friend. I owe it to him to take care of his child. I don't know anything about changing diapers, but I'll do my best to run the
company properly and preserve her inheritance. I can't offer more than that.”

Oddly enough, that glimpse of his grief was reassuring. His concern might be primarily for the company, but it was for the baby's sake as well as his own.

Link looked at her, his eyebrows lifting in the question he'd been asking all along. “Well, Annie?”

For Marcy,
she told herself.
For Marcy.

“All right.” She had to force the words out. “I'll marry you.”

 

It was his wedding day, and he was on his way to meet his bride. Link grimaced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The three days they'd had to wait once they applied for the license had been an eternity. He'd been constantly on edge, sure something would go wrong—that Annie would back out, that Frank would launch some unexpected offense, anything.

So far, so good. The wedding was today, and the hearing before Judge Carstairs set for tomorrow. Chet seemed as optimistic as an attorney could be. With any luck, this time the next day they'd be safe.

And then? For a moment he couldn't see beyond the immediate goal. He shook his head. It was very simple. Annie would return to Boston with the baby, and he'd go back to running the company.

He drew up in front of the church and sat for a moment, staring out at the square. The gazebo glinted white through the surrounding trees. The maples, just
beginning to change color, advertised the turning of the season. Tragedy happened, but life moved on.

Right now, moving on meant going through with this wedding. He and Annie had an agreement, just like any other business contract. As long as they kept the situation strictly business, no one would get hurt.

He glanced at the florist's box lying on the passenger seat and jeered at himself. He was breaking his own rules. He hadn't intended to do that but he'd found himself walking into the florist's. No matter what had prompted their wedding, a bride should have flowers.

An orchid hadn't seemed quite right for Annie, and the chrysanthemums the shop had in stock for the high school homecoming were out of the question. He'd settled for a small arrangement of yellow rosebuds, and their delicate aroma filtered through the white cardboard box. Hopefully the very idea of flowers wouldn't remind her of the funeral.

He caught sight of Chet, hovering outside the church, ready to be their witness. Now or never. He picked up the box, got out of the car and walked across to meet his best man.

“Still sure about this?” Chet raised his eyebrows. He was dressed, like Link, in a dark suit that seemed appropriate for an informal wedding.

“I'm sure.” He pulled open the door to the church offices. “We made arrangements to have the ceremony in Pastor Laing's study instead of the sanctuary.”

“Too many memories in there, I guess.”

Link nodded, throat tightening again. Too many, and too recent.

The door to the pastor's study stood open. He stepped inside. Nora Evers, Davis and Becca's next-door neighbor, held Marcy. An improbable hat perched on Nora's white hair, and the baby was trying hard to pull off a purple flower.

“Nora, glad you could be here.” They'd needed witnesses, and he'd felt the grandmotherly woman would add a touch of permanence to the proceedings.

Pastor Laing said something welcoming, but Link's attention was caught by Annie, standing unsmiling in front of the window. She wore a navy business suit with a white blouse, and her shiny brown hair curved in toward her rounded chin. Unlike Nora, she'd apparently seen no reason to wear a hat. She looked cool, severe and businesslike.

Once he'd been challenged by that cool exterior, but in the current circumstances he found it somehow reassuring. Annie looked as if nothing could touch her.

“I guess we should get started.” Pastor Laing picked up a worn black worship book and came around the desk to stand in front of them, his face austere. “If you're both sure you're ready.”

“We are,” Link said. He handed Annie the florist's box.

She looked startled, then opened the box and took
out the roses. He couldn't see her expression, but she clutched the flowers tightly.

They'd talked with Garth Laing at length about this wedding, being carefully honest with him. Link certainly had no intention of lying to a man he respected as much as he did Garth. Maybe they'd left a few things out when they'd discussed their reasons for being married immediately, but if they had, he suspected someone as intuitive as the pastor could read between the lines.

Garth had agreed to marry them, that was the important thing. If they'd gone to a justice of the peace, he wasn't sure Annie's resolve would have held up.

Garth glanced from Link's face to Annie's. He nodded, as if satisfied with whatever he saw there. Then he began to read the age-old words of the wedding service.

Breathe,
Link told himself.
All you have to do is remember your responses. That, and hope Annie doesn't say “I don't” instead of “I do.”

The preliminaries over, Garth smiled at them. “Please join hands.”

For an instant he thought Annie wouldn't move. Then she extended her hand.

Her fingers were so cold it was like taking a handful of ice. He clasped her hand in his, trying to warm it, and Annie looked up at him.

Shock ran through him. All that cool composure of hers was a facade. For a moment, he saw the grief
and vulnerability in her golden-brown eyes, and the sight shook him to the heart.

Beneath her controlled exterior, Annie was fragile, so fragile. She'd just undergone the most devastating experience of her life, and now she was plunged into something she wouldn't have dreamed possible a week earlier.

Dealing with Annie right now was like handling high explosives. One false move, and everything he'd naively thought was settled could blow sky high, leaving nothing but pieces.

Garth's voice paused, and Link realized he had to say his vows. Holding her hands in his, he began.

 

The ring felt odd on her finger. Annie stood at the dresser in the guest room at Becca's house, staring down at it. Her hand looked strange—the hand of a married woman.

She took a shaky breath. Hard as it was to believe, they'd actually done this thing. She and Link were husband and wife, legally and in God's sight.

Did we do the right thing, Father? We honestly tried to determine Your will. Surely it was worth any sacrifice to keep Marcy safe.