Blue Skies (14 page)

Somehow, she got through the ceremony, allowing Hank to slip the rings onto her finger, then managing, with his assistance, to slip a ring onto his. When the justice of the peace pronounced them man and wife, Carly’s legs turned watery, but Hank’s arm was there, strong and hard around her waist, to hold her up. When he was told that he could kiss his bride, he kept the kiss light and impersonal, a feathery touch of his lips on hers that was more dream than reality.

It was done. Carly turned with him to face their guests. The JP introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Hank Coulter. Everyone rushed forward to congratulate them.

Afterward, Carly went through the motions, signing her name to a paper she could barely see, then hanging onto Hank’s arm to leave the courthouse. The drive to his parents’ house passed in a swimming blur, and once they arrived, Carly once again went through the motions, feeling as if she’d become trapped in a nightmare. Voices erupted around her—white noise that penetrated her eardrums, filled her head, and didn’t register. She would get through this. She
had
to get through this.

Hank never left Carly’s side. Though she tensed every time he touched her, he frequently slipped an arm around her, feeling a need to reassure her.

After circling the room to chat with everyone, Bess joined Hank and Carly by the fireplace. “This is a lovely reception,” she said. “I can’t believe Mary pulled it off on such short notice.”

“My mom is pretty amazing,” Hank replied. “And she loves to entertain, probably because she has such a knack for it.”

“Everything’s perfect,” Carly inserted. “When I think of all the trouble she’s gone to, it makes me feel awful. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Hank had already apologized for the size of the gathering and the fact that his mom had insisted on a reception. Mary started circling the room just then with a platter of hors d’oeuvres. When she reached Hank and Carly, Carly politely took a small plate and dutifully selected several of the offerings.

“Yum!” Bess said after sampling a stuffed mushroom. “How delicious!”

After filling a plate for himself, Hank complimented his mother on the preparations and thanked her yet again for all her hard work.

“It was nothing!” Mary protested. “You know me. I love doing things like this.” She beamed a smile at Carly. “It’s a very special day.”

After Mary moved away, she frequently glanced around the room to make sure all of her guests were attended to, which prompted her to look back at Hank and Carly each time she scanned the room.

“If the hors d’oeuvres aren’t to your taste, you don’t have to eat them,” Hank whispered to his bride. “I know your stomach is easily upset right now.”

Carly smiled and shook her head. “I was so nervous about getting ready today that I forgot to eat lunch. It’s good to get something in my stomach. I tend to get queasy if I don’t eat.”

She managed to get down three small crackers, spread with specialty cheeses and garnished with green olives. Then Hank noticed her picking at the food.

“Too rich?” he asked.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. Hank hurriedly cleaned his own plate and switched with her. She flashed him a grateful look.

“Thank you, Hank. I wouldn’t want to hurt your mom’s feelings by not eating the food.”

Hank had already determined that—and it only drove home to him what a sweet, caring individual Carly was. A few minutes later, she cemented that opinion by exclaiming appreciatively over the cake Mary had baked and decorated.

“Everything’s so lovely,” Carly said, touching the pretty wedding napkins with reverent fingertips. “No one’s ever had a nicer reception, Mary. Thank you so much for going to all this trouble.”

“It’s Mom to you,” Mary reminded her, “and it wasn’t a lick of trouble. I was happy to be able to do it.”

When Hank and Carly went to the table to cut the cake and toast each other with champagne, Hank had a bad moment. Pregnant women weren’t supposed to drink alcohol.

“It’s safe,” Zeke whispered in Hank’s ear. “I emptied a bottle and filled it with sparkling cider.”

Hank wanted to hug his brother. “Thanks, Zeke. I owe you one.”

Zeke glanced at Carly. “How are you holding up?” he asked with a teasing grin. “We’re a rambunctious group. Are you overwhelmed yet?”

Carly laughed. “You do have a large family. But you’re all so nice that I’m not feeling the least bit overwhelmed.”

That was true, up to a point. Carly did like Hank’s family. How could she not? But that didn’t mean she felt at ease. Since the wedding ceremony, Hank had taken to touching her frequently and in a manner that she perceived as being possessive. Each time he curled an arm around her, her heart bumped wildly against her ribs, and it was all she could do to breathe normally when he splayed a hand over her ribs, his fingertips coming perilously close to the underside of her breast. What if he’d changed his mind about their prenuptial agreement? So far, he hadn’t given her anything in writing as he’d promised.

Carly had little time to dwell on that concern as the reception festivities got under way, but the worry was there at the back of her mind, ready to leap to the foreground each time her husband touched her in a proprietary way.

Hank filled the champagne flutes, which were bedecked with ribbon at the stems, then linked wrists with Carly and joined her in drinking to their future. As he swallowed the sparkling cider, he couldn’t help but look at his bride with burgeoning pride. As difficult a situation as this undoubtedly was for her, she’d comported herself with charming grace the entire afternoon. Hank couldn’t count the times that relatives and friends had told him what a lucky devil he was to have landed such a catch, and he totally agreed with them. How he’d managed to single out someone like Carly in a rowdy honky-tonk, he’d never know.

He held her hand to cut the cake. Everyone applauded. He served up a piece onto a little paper plate decorated with silver ribbons and flowers. Carly gamely gave him the first bite, taking care not to smear frosting on his mouth. Afterward, he put a small amount on his own fork and tipped it into her mouth.

Everyone cheered and toasted to their happy future. Hank kept an arm around his wife’s shoulders as the toasts to their happiness began. Harv started them off, saying that he and Mary were delighted to welcome Carly into the family, and that they wished the newlyweds nothing but happiness.

After refilling everyone’s glasses, Jake, the eldest Coulter son, took over. “It seems really strange to be standing here,” he said. “I’ve watched my little brother grow up, wiping his nose, putting Band-Aids on his scraped knees, and guarding his back as a teenager when he got into fights. Along the way, I guess I got to thinking he would always be my little brother, that nothing would ever change.” Eyes shining, Jake raised his flute. “Welcome to our family, Carly. Congratulations, little brother. The best to both of you.”

Zeke came forward then. “I can scarcely believe that my baby brother has gone and gotten married. As I watched him tie the knot today, I thanked God throughout the ceremony that it wasn’t me.” Everyone laughed. Zeke settled his gaze on Carly. “Mostly, anyway. I have to say that there were moments, while looking at my brother’s bride, that I felt envious. He’s definitely landed a keeper. A more beautiful bride I’ve never seen.”

The women cooed, “Oh, how sweet.” The men said, “Here, here!”

Zeke took a sip of champagne, then turned his attention back to the newlyweds. “Now I’m just wondering why you’re still hanging around, little brother. If I had a bride that beautiful, I’d be champing at the bit to hustle her out to my truck and begin my honeymoon. What’s keeping you?”

Mary cried, “We haven’t even had cake yet, and they still haven’t opened their gifts!”

Hank sorely wished that it were possible for him and Carly to duck out early. He didn’t know how much more of this Carly could gracefully take. On the one hand, he appreciated the fact that both his father and Zeke, who knew the marriage was only temporary, hadn’t let the cat out of the bag. On the other hand, he also understood that it must be trying for Carly to endure all the best wishes for a happy future, not to mention the hints that Hank might be eager to leave so he could consummate their union.

He was glad to see Carly eat an entire piece of cake. After the refreshment portion of the reception was over, everyone gravitated back to the living room to watch the newlyweds open their gifts. Hank had never seen so many small appliances in one place, and he quickly lost track of who had given them what. He was relieved to see that his sister-in-law Molly was keeping a list and made a mental note to thank her later.

When the gifts had all been opened, Hank drew his wife into the curve of his arm to make the rounds and thank all their guests for coming. Carly graciously shook hands with the men and returned the women’s hugs. She was especially sweet and appreciative when she thanked Hank’s mother.

Hank could have done without the rice and bouquet tossing, but Mary Coulter was a stickler for details. In a shower of rice, he hurried his bride toward his truck, which was parked on the street. At the curb, Carly turned to throw her bouquet.

“Right here!” Bess yelled. “If I catch it, maybe I’ll get lucky!”

Carly laughed. “Here it comes!” she called.

The bouquet went flying, only not toward Bess as Carly intended. Instead the cluster of flowers veered left and hit Zeke dead center in the chest. He reacted instinctively, grabbing the bouquet to prevent it from dropping to the ground. Then he grimaced, which made everyone burst out laughing.

“No way,” Zeke said. “I’m not next. I’m staying a bachelor.”

He tried to hand the flowers off to Bess, but she shook her head. “Nope. You caught it. You’re stuck.”

Everybody was still laughing as Hank helped his wife into the truck. Without thinking, he reached across Carly’s lap to fasten her seat belt and then adjusted the shoulder strap to angle across her chest. In the process, the backs of his knuckles grazed her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath. He froze. For a tension-packed instant, they stared at each other, Hank acutely conscious of how her nipple had hardened at the slight touch.

He quickly collected himself and closed the passenger door. By the time he circled the front bumper and climbed in on the driver’s side, Carly was huddling as close to the door as possible, her arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist. Her posture screamed, “Don’t touch me!”

It was a hell of a way to begin a marriage, Hank thought as he tromped on the accelerator to get away.

Chapter Thirteen

A
s Hank drove across Lazy J land to the cabin by the creek, the truck lights cut a golden swath through thick stands of pine, the bouncing beams creating a shadow play of black shapes that danced among the trunks like madcap ballerinas. Beyond the illumination, the woods were eerily dark.

Carly leaned against the passenger door. She felt mildly nauseated and could only hope she didn’t get sick. She stared at the blurry world beyond the glass, wishing she were going to the apartment so she could sleep in her own bed. The day’s events had drained her. Her face ached from smiling so much.

“You okay?” Hank asked.

Just ducky.
She was married to a man she barely knew, and this was their wedding night. She wanted to believe that Hank would stand good on his promise to her, but given the fact that he’d never given her the signed agreement as promised, she couldn’t help but worry that he’d changed his mind. She wished now that she’d thought to ask him for the document, but it had been such a crazy, fast-paced day that she’d forgotten about it until it was too late.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just tired.”

“Me too. It’s been a trying afternoon.”

She seriously doubted the evening would be much better.
Married
. Every time she thought about it, she found it difficult to breathe.

He stopped by a squat, shadowy structure, shifted into park, and turned off the lights and engine. “Home sweet home,” he said. “It’s just a small log house, two bedrooms, nothing fancy. But we can fix it up. I figured you’d feel more comfortable here than at the main house. This way, you’ll have more privacy.”

At the moment, Carly didn’t care what the place looked like. All she wanted was to lie on a reasonably clean surface, preferably alone, and sleep.

“Sit tight,” he instructed. “I’ll come around. It’s black as pitch out there, and the ground’s uneven.”

He leaned over the seat to grab her overnight case. When he opened his door, the dome light flashed on, the brightness lacerating her aching eyes. Cool night air rushed into the cab, raising goose flesh on her bare arms. She was relieved when he slammed the door, swamping her in darkness again.

Seconds later, he tapped her window. At the warning, Carly pushed erect and unfastened her seat belt as he opened the door. When he touched her elbow, she turned, thinking he’d offer her a steadying hand as she exited the vehicle. Instead he caught her around the waist and swung her easily to the ground. During those brief seconds of contact, Carly felt the strength in his shoulders and arms—pads of vibrant muscle that bunched under the wool jacket . . .

He slipped an arm around her waist, his big hand splaying over her side. “Sorry about the holes. Most times the cabin sits empty, and we haven’t kept up the yard. Careful.” He tightened his hold on her as he leaned around to retrieve the overnight case that he’d left sitting on the front bumper. “Some of these chuck holes are pretty deep.”

Carly was relieved when they reached the porch. He released her to open the door, then stood back to let her enter. As she stepped into the interior darkness, she shivered, despite the warmth that curled around her. Hank flipped on a floor lamp to bathe the room in dim, golden light.

“Bess mentioned that light hurts your eyes,” he said, “so I put forty-watt bulbs in all the lamps. I hope it helps.”

It helped immensely, the glow dim and golden rather than glaring. She could scarcely believe he’d been so thoughtful. “It’s great, Hank. Thank you for thinking of it.”

“I left the kitchen and bath fixtures as they were. If they’re too bright, just say so, and I’ll take care of it.”

He pushed the door closed, then drew off his jacket and tossed it over a comfortable-looking brown leather chair. Still shivering, Carly rubbed her arms as she took in the small living room. A river rock–faced fireplace graced a wall to her right. A leather sofa and chairs sat at angles in front of the hearth, conjuring visions in her mind of cold winter evenings spent before a cheery fire. Beyond the sofa, she saw an old wooden table and chairs.

“I’ve got a fire laid,” he assured her. “Would you like my jacket until it warms up in here?”

The room didn’t actually feel that cold. Carly suspected that her chills were due more to nervousness. “I’m fine.”

He moved to the hearth. At a distance, the features of his dark face were fuzzy, the outline of his tall frame indistinct, but that did little to diminish his size. He stood head and shoulders over the floor lamp beside her, and his white shirt swam in her vision, making him look even broader through the chest and shoulders.

He crouched to light the fire. Amber flames leaped and sputtered, casting his lean body in gold. Her heart pattered. Her breathing became quick and shallow. It was madness to think of the night they met, but she couldn’t stop herself. Kisses that had made her bones melt, the tingling warmth that radiated from his big hands, and the sweet things he’d said. As always, a cold knot bunched in her stomach when she remembered the pain that came later.

Recalling the power she’d felt in his arms and shoulders when he’d lifted her from the truck, she knew she’d be helpless to stop him if he chose to exercise his marital privileges. The possibility made her nerves leap, which in turn made her nausea worse.

“It should warm up in here soon,” he told her.

He pushed erect and turned toward her. Even at a distance, the blue of his eyes was intense and unsettling. Carly tried to make her mind go blank—but the traitorous thoughts clung tight. Now, for better or worse, she was about to discover if Hank Coulter was a man of his word.

Resting his hands at his waist, he slowly crossed the room, his movements a purely masculine undulation of lean hips and long, powerfully muscled legs. When he came to stand in front of her, he smiled, looking almost as tense as she felt. His expression gave nothing away.

“Would you like a quick tour of the house?”

“Oh, sure. That would be nice.”

He led the way around the wall that divided the kitchen off from the small living room. “Here we have the kitchen.” Laughter lighted his eyes as he met her gaze. With a wave of his hand, he indicated the table. “Complete with a not-too-fancy dining area that has the added feature of doubling as a game room, breakfast nook, and office.” He indicated a door beyond the dining set. “That’s the back bedroom. I’ve got all my stuff stowed in there.” Inclining his head, he added, “The front bedroom is—well, in front.”

Carly laughed nervously as he preceded her to the open doorway and leaned in to switch on the overhead light. The mellow illumination told her that he’d stepped down the wattage of the bulbs in the ceiling fixture. She hesitated before following him into the room. Then she chided herself for being a goose. If he reneged on his promise to her and pressed her for sex, she would survive. So far, he didn’t strike her as being a cruel man, only a somewhat thoughtless and self-centered one.

“Like I said, it’s nothing fancy, and it’s not very big,” he apologized as she took in the small bedroom.

“What a beautiful bed. Is it brass?”

He nodded. “Molly says it’s worth a lot because it’s an antique. It’s been in the family for years. Small, though—people used to be a lot shorter than we are now. My feet hang over the end.”

Carly tried to imagine him sleeping there, his long legs dangling over the end of the mattress, his feet thrust through the brass footboard. The breadth of his shoulders alone would take up more than half the mattress.

“Will this be my room?”

“Yep. I had the housekeeper come in and do a deep clean. She washed out the drawers and all the shelves. There isn’t a lot of storage, but hopefully, you’ll have room to put all your things away.”

“I haven’t all that many clothes.” She leaned over to pat the mattress. “Being blind, I never got into fashions and all that.”

He rubbed his jaw. “If you’re apologizing for not being a clotheshorse, don’t. I’ll be paying the shopping bills for a while, so you won’t hear me complain.” He winced. “Not that I’ll mind if you buy clothes.”

It bothered Carly to be so dependent on him for everything. “No, of course not. I didn’t think you were implying that.”

“The bathroom is directly to the left as you leave the bedroom. If you’d like to take a shower, you’ll find fresh towels and washcloths in the linen cupboard across from the sink.”

“A shower sounds good.”

He stepped into the living room to retrieve her one piece of luggage. “Are you hungry?” he asked as he handed her the case.

Carly’s stomach rolled at the very thought of food. “No, no. I couldn’t eat a thing.”

He ran a hand through his hair. Then he cleared his throat. “Well.” He smiled slightly. “Deep word with a hollow ending. I think I’ll fry up some bacon and eggs. You sure you won’t join me? Mom’s hors d’oeuvres and cake didn’t last me long.”

Carly shook her head. “No, thanks. You go ahead. I think I’ll just freshen up and get ready for bed.”

She was relieved when he finally left her. Quickly grabbing her overnight case, she made for the bathroom, hoping to hurry through her shower and be in bed, pretending to be asleep, by the time he finished cooking.

When she switched on the bathroom light, the glare of the ceiling fixture momentarily blinded her. She blinked away the black spots as she closed the door.
Problem.
There was no lock. She felt uneasy about showering without a way to make sure Hank didn’t walk in on her. But there was no helping it. She couldn’t very well live there without sometimes bathing when he was around.

The bathroom’s white porcelain glared in the bright light. She set her case on the back of the toilet and squinted to protect her sensitive eyes as she turned on the overhead fan and peeled off her clothes.

Only minutes after she turned on the shower and stepped into the tub, a sickening smell wafted strongly to Carly’s nostrils.
Bacon
. Ever conscious of cholesterol, Bess avoided eating pork, and since becoming pregnant, Carly breakfasted on unconventional fare. She hadn’t been exposed to the smell of frying bacon in weeks.

That was a blessing, she decided, as the odor grew more pronounced. The air itself felt saturated with grease, coating her tongue and throat every time she took a breath. The exhaust fan in the bathroom ceiling seemed to be sucking the smell of the frying meat in under the door. She’d heard of pregnant women getting horribly sick when they smelled grease, but never had she imagined it would be as awful as this. Her stomach rolled. She gulped frantically, trying to swallow her gorge. Her feeling of nausea went from mild to pronounced in seconds. Sick, she was going to be sick.

Carly barely managed to get her hair rinsed before the nausea hit her in punishing waves. She shoved back the shower curtain, stumbled from the bathtub, and barely had time to grab a towel before her stomach started turning inside out.

Hank had quickly changed out of his monkey suit while the bacon fried. His work shirt not yet buttoned, he was about to crack an egg into the skillet when he heard an odd sound. He cocked his head to listen. It sounded as if Carly was gagging. He turned off the gas burner and raced to the living room. As he approached the bathroom, he called out, “Carly, are you okay in there?”

“Don’t—come—in. Fine. I’m f-fine.”

She didn’t sound fine. He curled his hand over the doorknob. He heard her retching again. When he could stand it no longer, he cracked open the door. Wrapped in a towel, she was on her knees by the commode, her slender hands clenched over the rim of the bowl to support her upper body. He took one look and pushed inside. She saw him from the corner of her eye and released her hold on the porcelain to hug the terrycloth to her breasts.

“Go
away
. I’m not dressed.” A violent spasm racked her body. When it subsided, she sobbed and said, “Get
out
of here. Please. I need some privacy.”

No way.
Hank grabbed a clean washcloth from the bowl by the sink and wet it with cold water. Then he went down on one knee behind her.

“Here, sweetheart,” he said as he slipped an arm around her waist.

Her hands closed over his wrist and forearm. The towel started to slip, and she mewled in distress.

“Easy, easy.” Hank discarded the washcloth and grabbed the nightgown she’d pulled from the overnight case and left on the vanity. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ll get you covered.”

Beneath his wrist, he felt her stomach muscles knot. The next second her body jerked as another wave of nausea struck. She got nothing up. After drinking binges, he’d experienced the dry heaves a few times and knew how they hurt. He also recalled how utterly exhausted he’d been afterward.

After the spasms abated, he supported her weight with one arm while he worked the nightgown over her head. When he grasped one of her hands to poke it down a sleeve, she resisted, clinging frantically to the towel.

“I won’t let the towel slip. There’s my girl. Give me your hand.” Working in increments, he finally got the nightgown on her. “See there?” The roomy folds of cotton encompassed both woman and towel. “You’re completely covered.”

His heart caught when she let her head fall back against his shoulder. Her wet hair felt cold where the strands dangled against his bare chest. He tugged the towel from under her gown and dried her hair with one hand to keep her nightclothes from getting soaked. She leaned weakly against him as he worked.

“Sick, so sick,” she whispered. “The bacon. The smell.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Hank remembered his mother telling him how sick she’d always gotten if anyone fried bacon around her when she was pregnant. “I never even thought.”

“Me either,” she said weakly. “I didn’t know it’d make me sick.”

Hank wished he could trade places with her. The bout of vomiting had left her looking totally exhausted. He could feel her body quivering. “I’m here, sweetheart. I don’t have much practice caring for pregnant ladies, but I’ll learn as I go.”