Pregnant In Prosperino (13 page)

If only she hadn't encouraged the handsome lawman's friendship, if only she had warned him by telling him the truth about herself. If only…if only. Guilt coupled with her grief, momentarily overwhelming her. It would have been better if Snake Eyes Pike had killed her instead of shooting the sweet, loving, protective Toby.

She wept until there were no tears left to fall, until she felt as if every drop of moisture had been cried from her body. Finally, she sat up and thought back over the past three days.

After Toby had died and she had run out of the little cottage, she'd made her way to the highway, but had been too afraid to step out of the brush and flag down a car. Her anguish over Toby had been shoved deep inside, her instinct for survival had been first and foremost in her mind.

It wasn't until the early dawn that she finally got up her nerve to leave the safety of the brush and venture out closer to the highway. She knew she couldn't go to Wyatt, or back to Montana, but she had to run, to escape the nightmare. She'd flagged down an eighteen-wheeler and had hitched a ride to the nearest
airport, where she'd managed to buy a ticket to Washington D.C.

She'd called her eldest brother, Rand, from the D.C. airport, sobbing into the phone, and within an hour, she was in his car and headed for his luxury town house.

There, she was introduced to his new wife, Lucy, and his stepson, a precocious, five-year-old Max. After Max was in bed that evening, Emily told Rand and Lucy what had happened with Snake Eyes Pike and Toby.

Even though they tried to comfort her, assuring her that none of it was her fault and they were just grateful she was safe, there was no solace in their words.

Emily's despair was so abysmal, she knew no words would ever, could ever make her feel better. A man had died because of her, and a part of her had died along with him.

Wearily, despite her long nap, she pulled herself out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering how it was possible that she looked the same as she had before the tragedy.

Why hadn't her long mane of chestnut-red hair turned white with the fright of the trauma? Why hadn't her blue eyes dulled from the profound ache in her heart? Why did she still look so normal when she now had the burden of a man's death wrapped like a thousand-pound weight around her heart?

Tears once again welled up inside her and she tried to shove them aside. She couldn't stop crying. She'd
been here almost two days and still she couldn't stop the tears that seemed to have an inexhaustible source.

Swiping at her cheeks, she drew a deep breath in an attempt to steady her chaotic emotions. She didn't want to frighten little Max with her continuous crying.

She left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen and there she found Rand, Lucy and Max preparing for the evening meal.

“Emily!” Lucy immediately rushed to her side. “You're just in time for dinner. We didn't know whether to wake you or let you nap.”

Emily smiled at the pretty woman. Although they'd only known each other a brief time, Emily already felt the warmth of friendship and a familial connection. “Thanks. I think I'm all napped out.”

“Come and sit,” Rand said and pointed to the chair next to Max.

“I was quiet as a mouse while you were napping,” Max observed soberly.

Emily smiled at the little boy. He was a doll, with his straight, dark brown hair, his big blue eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The eyeglasses he wore somehow only added to his appeal. “And I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she said.

Max nodded with a grown-up air. It had taken Emily only minutes with the little boy to realize he was quite bright and seemed far older than he really was.

“How are you doing?” Rand asked, his blue eyes boring into hers.

“I'm all right,” she replied, her voice shakier than
she would have liked and her eyes once again burning with the press of tears.

Rand covered her hand with his. “We'll get through this,” he said firmly. “You just wait and see. Everything is going to be just fine.”

“Just fine and dandy,” Max added and they all laughed.

As they ate, Emily tried not to think about Toby, but thoughts of him kept intruding. Had somebody found him? What a devastating thing his death would be for his brother, Josh.

Emily knew that Toby and Josh's mother had died when Toby was young and their father had been an alcoholic. Josh had raised his younger brother and the two had been extremely close. Did he even know yet that the brother he'd raised, the brother he loved, was dead?

“I spoke to the authorities in Keyhole,” Rand said, almost as if he'd read Emily's thoughts. “You don't have to worry about Silas Pike any longer. He was found in the woods outside the cottage and is now in the jail infirmary recovering from a leg wound.”

Lucy cleared her throat, as if to remind Rand that Max was at the table, listening to each and every word of the conversation.

Emily knew Rand meant the words to be comforting, but all she could think about was how unfair it was that Silas Pike would recover, and sweet, gentle Toby would not.

“Has Pike said anything?” she asked, wondering if he'd admitted that he'd been hired to kill her.

Rand shook his head. “So far, the man isn't saying
a word, but he's going to be charged with homicide and I imagine it won't be long before he's singing to anyone who might listen.”

Emily nodded and returned her focus to her food, although she had no appetite. She couldn't eat. Her heart was so heavy in her chest, she felt that if she took a bite and tried to swallow she might be violently ill.

They had finished eating and Emily had just helped Lucy with the dishes when the phone rang. Rand answered it in his office, then brought the receiver to Emily. “It's Mother,” he said as he gave her the phone.

Emily clutched the receiver to her ear. “Mama?”

“Sparrow.” The familiar voice and the childhood nickname released the tears Emily had been trying so desperately to hold back.

“Mama,” she sobbed, wishing Meredith was here to hold her, to somehow take away the pain as only a mother could.

“Rand told me what happened and I am so glad you weren't hurt,” Meredith said.

“But, Toby…” Again Emily was overwhelmed with weeping.

“It's going to be all right, my precious Sparrow. I'm going to fly there tomorrow, then together we're all going to go home. Back to the ranch, back where we all belong.”

Emily clutched at her mother's words, hoping, praying it was as easy as her mother had made it sound. Back to the ranch. Home.

 

Meredith replaced the receiver and turned to look at Dr. Wilkes. “And so, I'll be leaving for Washington D.C. first thing in the morning.”

Martha Wilkes smiled, her beautiful ebony features radiating strength. “How do you feel about going back to Prosperino and your family?”

“Scared to death,” Meredith admitted. She was frightened, frightened of going back and facing the twin sister who had so wronged her and she was frightened of trying to pick up the pieces of a life in which she'd been ten years absent. “I still don't have all my memories, but I can't put this off any longer.”

“Because of what happened to Emily?” Dr. Wilkes asked. Meredith had shared with the psychiatrist the events that had happened in Keyhole.

Meredith nodded, her heart aching for the child who had been left behind on the day of the accident so long ago, a child who had grown into a young woman and had just suffered an enormous trauma. “She needs me now. Not next week, not next month, but right now. Besides, it's time.” Meredith lifted her chin. “It's time I go back to Prosperino and reclaim what is mine.”

Dr. Wilkes reached out and grabbed Meredith's hands. “You'll be fine, Meredith. I have to tell you, it's been a pleasure knowing you and working with you. You are one of the strongest women I've ever met and I've come not only to like you, but to respect you.”

Tears burned at Meredith's eyes as she squeezed Martha's hands. “Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

Martha smiled. “You would have survived, and eventually you would have come to the place where you are now. Go home and take back what was stolen from you. Embrace the family who might have momentarily left your mind, but never left your heart. And stay in touch.”

“I will,” Meredith promised as she released the doctor's hands. “I'll call and let you know how things are going.” Impulsively, she threw her arms around the woman who had been instrumental in returning her identity to her. “Thank you, Dr. Wilkes,” she said, then quickly left the office before her tears could fall.

As Meredith drove away from the office that had become like a second home to her, her mind whirled with the enormity of what lay ahead.

Every day another piece of her memory returned, some of those pieces happy, some of them sad. She'd remembered the joy of her first child's birth, remembered the feeling of intense love that had swept through her when Rand was first placed in her arms. And she'd wept when the memory of her son Michael's death had resurfaced. Michael, one of twin boys, had been killed by a drunk driver when he'd been riding his bicycle.

There was only one deep blank place in Meredith's memory. She could remember the feel of her husband's arms around her. Her mind had retrieved the gentleness of his touches and the laughter they had often shared. But Joe's face remained a blank. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember her husband's appearance. And that worried her.

Was there some reason why his facial features remained elusive to her? What had Patsy managed to do to the marriage Meredith had shared with Joe?

If only she had told Joe years ago about Patsy. Patsy's life had been troubled for years. Her past included a child born out of wedlock and a second-degree murder conviction for killing the baby's father in a scuffle.

When Meredith had first met Joe Colton, she'd been too ashamed to tell him about her sister. Besides, Meredith had promised her mother she would never tell anyone about Patsy and the scandal of her conviction.

Still, as Meredith and Joe grew closer, Meredith longed to tell the truth to the man she loved, but as the years passed and the timing never seemed right, the secret got more difficult to confess. She knew now that if she had told Joe about Patsy, Patsy would have never been able to steal Meredith's life.

She pulled her car in front of her house. Tonight would be the last night she would sleep in this place. Tomorrow night she would be at Rand's in Washington D.C. and after that, God willing, she would finally, truly be home.

L
ana watched from the window as Chance and Lester Pierce from Prosperino Realty Company walked around the corral area. She could tell by the way Lester was shaking his head enthusiastically that he was impressed with the work that had been done around the place and was already anticipating a quick sale and a big commission.

She turned away from the window, unable to watch while Chance made the arrangements to sell her dream, to irrevocably break her heart.

Sinking down at the table, she tried not to think about how solicitous Chance had been the night before and all that morning.

He'd greeted her in bed with a saucer full of crackers, instructing her to eat several before attempting to
move. She'd done just that and had been pleasantly surprised that the morning sickness passed more quickly than usual.

Since getting out of bed, Chance had insisted she sit and relax while he threw a load of laundry into the washer, then took out a pound of hamburger from the freezer for supper that evening.

“Chance, I'm pregnant, not terminally ill,” she'd protested.

“You're pregnant with twins, and the doctor said he didn't want you stressed or to overdo.”

“I don't intend to overdo,” she protested, although she said nothing about being somewhat stressed. She couldn't help but be stressed when she thought of Chance selling the ranch, leaving Prosperino and dashing any lingering hope she might entertain of their marriage becoming a lasting one.

Still, for the remainder of the afternoon, Chance had treated her like an invalid, waiting on her hand and foot and doing the household chores she normally did. And every minute of the afternoon had radiated with the simmering tension that existed between them.

She wasn't sure if the tension was because Chance was still upset that she was having twins or if it had its source somewhere else.

She knew she felt edgy and slightly out of sorts. She knew it was because she desperately wanted Chance to make love to her again, she desperately wanted to be held in his arms, taste his mouth against hers and for just a moment feel her love for him explode in her heart.

It had almost been a relief when Lester had shown up right after supper for a tour of the place. Lana cleared off the dishes, washed them and put them away, then sat at the table and sipped a glass of orange juice.

She knew it had been pure madness to agree to remain here until the ranch sold. The place would probably sell within a week or two. Or, it was possible it might take months for the right buyer to come along.

Months that she could spend here with Chance, months in which she could simply fall more and more in love with him, making their final separation all that much more painful.

She should have moved back to her apartment the first morning she'd felt sick and had suspected it was morning sickness. But she didn't have the strength to deny herself one minute, one hour, one day of time with Chance.

And there was still a small flame of hope alive inside her, a tiny kernel of hope that he just might love her back and decide to stay here and help her raise his babies.

She stood as Chance and Lester came in through the back door. “I told you to leave the dishes,” Chance said. “I would have taken care of them.”

“I'm fine, Chance.” She forced a smile of greeting to Lester. She liked the man fine, but it was difficult to be friendly to a man who intended to take away your dream. “Nice to see you, Lester.”

“And you.” Lester returned her smile. “And I un
derstand congratulations are in order. Chance told me you're adding to your family.”

Adding two and subtracting one, Lana thought, then shoved the painful thought aside. “Yes, we're very excited.”

“Let me show you the house,” Chance said, his voice a gruff command. As he led Lester out of the kitchen, Lana heard him explaining that there were a few things that would need to be done to the house, but that Chance didn't intend to do them.

She knew he was talking about the hole in the Sheetrock in the spare bedroom and the broken bathroom door lock. He refused to fix them because they represented his childhood pain, his anger at his father. And she believed that as long as his heart was filled with that unresolved anger, he would never fully open himself up to love.

Yet, she knew it was possible she was kidding herself, that Chance's heart would open to love with the right woman, and Lana simply wasn't the woman for him.

But, oh, how he felt like the man for her. She had grown to love the way he looked first thing in the morning, with his gold-streaked brown hair tousled from sleep and his cheeks dusky with a night's whisker growth.

She adored the way his beautiful green eyes transmitted his emotions, lightening when he laughed, and deepening when he was intense and thoughtful.

She loved him, but she wasn't sure she understood him. There were many evenings when they sat side-by-side on the front porch and she'd feel sweet con
tentment radiating from him. There were many nights, before the pregnancy test, when he'd held her in his arms and she'd felt love emanating from him and thundering in his heartbeat.

Or was she only imagining those emotions? Was the contentment she thought she felt from him actually a wistfulness for his life back in the midwest? Was the love she sometimes felt wafting from him actually the simple passion of a virile man for any woman?

She stood as Lester and Chance returned to the kitchen. “It's a great place,” Lester said enthusiastically. “I'm sure it will sell quickly. I'll get it listed first thing in the morning for the price we discussed and I've got a For Sale sign in my car, so we'll get it up before I leave.”

Chance nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Could you and Lana come into the office first thing in the morning and sign the realty contract?”

Chance looked at Lana. She nodded and tried to ignore the dull ache in her heart. “That will be fine,” Chance said to Lester. “But let's make it early afternoon instead of first thing in the morning.”

A surge of love filled Lana as she realized he was making the appointment in the afternoon in deference to her. He knew that lately mornings were difficult for her.

As Lester and Chance walked out to Lester's car, Lana made half a pot of coffee, knowing Chance liked to end the day by sitting on the porch and sipping a cup of coffee.

The sound of Lester's car pulling out of the drive-
way came just as the coffee finished brewing. Lana pulled on a lightweight sweater, then poured Chance a cup of coffee and left the house.

The first thing that struck her eyes when she reached the door was the large For Sale sign in the front yard. The significance of all that the sign implied hit her like a slap in the face, an arrow in the heart.

Chance sat in the chair where he usually sat, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. He looked up as she stepped out on the porch. Seeing the coffee mug in her hand, he jumped up to help her.

“Sit down,” she commanded as she handed him the mug. “I can manage getting my—you a cup of coffee without needing help.” She'd been about to say “my husband,” but she had to stop thinking of Chance as her husband. It wouldn't be long now and he'd be out of her life.

It was time she started removing him from her mind—and attempted to release him from her heart.

 

“You're nothing, boy. You never were worth anything and you'll always be nothing.” Sarge Reilly glared at his son.

As always, Chance knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't pull himself out of the nightmare, nor could he escape the intense emotional pain that racked him as his father berated him.

Simply words, he told himself, but the power of those words battered him like fists and again he swallowed in an attempt to contain the tears that pressed perilously close to the surface.

“Run, boy. Sell this place and run as far and as fast as you can. That woman and those babies will be better off without you. They don't need a loser in their lives.”

Sarge's words pierced him like bullets. He needed to escape, to run, but when he turned, Lana stood there, blocking his path.

She opened her arms to him, and he knew in her arms was his salvation. But as he tried to go to her, his father grabbed him from behind, making it impossible.

“Chance!”

With a start, he tumbled from his dream world and into reality. Moonlight streaked into the windows, filling the bedroom with enough light that he could see Lana gazing at him, a worried crinkle in the center of her forehead.

“Are you all right? You were crying out.”

His first impulse was to say that he was fine, that it was just a dumb dream. But that wasn't the truth, and the empty platitude didn't make it to his lips.

“No, I'm not all right.” He sat up and raked his fingers through his hair, aware that his heart still beat the accelerated rhythm of confrontation with his father. “It was a nightmare.”

She sat up and touched his arm lightly. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, her eyes luminous and achingly earnest.

His need for her exploded inside him, shooting heat through his veins and setting his nerve endings aflame. He had not touched her since the day she'd
taken her pregnancy test, but now he could not deny the need that suffused him.

He said nothing, but instead wrapped his arms around her and claimed her mouth with his. He half expected a protest to rise to her lips. Instead, she simply kissed him back.

Together they fell back on the bed, arms wrapped around each other and lips locked feverishly. Neither spoke as the kiss deepened and heartbeats raced.

Chance wanted to make love to her and he could tell by the heat of her kiss, by the way her hands stroked over his shoulders, across his back, that she wanted him, too.

There was no longer any bargain to fulfill, no baby to make, there was absolutely no reason for them to make love except the incredible desire to hold her in his arms, feel her body next to his, lose himself in her embrace.

What was wondrous and amazing was he felt the same emotions radiating from her. She clung to him as if her hunger was as great as his. He realized it was more than physical hunger that drove them together, it was a need to connect on a deeper level than just with mere bodies. It was a desire to touch the light of her soul, knowing it would banish the darkness in his.

With a whisper and a sigh, her nightgown seemed to melt away, leaving her warm and pliant in his arms. There was no urgency between them, no pressure to hurry. Rather he wanted each touch, every caress to linger for an eternity.

As he swept his hand across her lower abdomen,
he thought he felt a subtle fullness that hadn't been there before. Babies. Twin babies.

His babies.

Awe swept through him as for the first time since the doctor's visit the fact that Lana was carrying his twins sank in. A part of him, a part of her, growing inside her…their babies.

The skin across her stomach was silky smooth, and he wondered how long it would be before a hand on her belly might feel the kick of a tiny foot, or the jab of a little elbow.

As he claimed Lana's lips again, all thoughts of babies fled as his mind, his senses, his very being, were filled with her.

They made love slowly, with a tenderness he'd never known before. He could feel her heartbeat as he possessed her, a steady, rapid beating that echoed comfortably deep inside him.

Afterward, they remained locked in an embrace, neither speaking as they waited for heartbeats to slow and breathing to resume a more normal pace.

Within minutes he knew Lana had fallen back to sleep. Her light breaths were warm against the side of his neck, and one of her arms was flung across his chest.

He turned to gaze at her, grateful for the moonlight that allowed him to see her features as she slept. She had never looked more beautiful than she did at this moment, with her hair tousled and her cheeks still colored from their exertions. Her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes moved rapidly behind the lids.

He wondered if she was dreaming. If she was, he
hoped she had happy dreams. He frowned. Soon she would have no time to dream, she'd barely find time to sleep. Two babies.

He eased away from her and got out of bed, suddenly too restless to sleep. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt, then left the bedroom.

He dressed quickly then stepped out the front door, where the moon not only lit the land with a silvery glow, but also played on the real estate sign in the middle of the front yard.

Easing down on one of the chairs on the porch, Chance fought to sort out the emotions that raged through him. He'd thought he knew what he wanted from life, what he intended to get out of life, but now all his preconceived wants seemed selfish and shallow.

That woman and those babies don't need a loser in their lives. Sarge's words from Chance's nightmare played and replayed in his mind.

But they did need somebody, and Chance knew nobody else was going to step in. All his life, he'd made his decisions to prove that Sarge was wrong about him. Yet, the decisions he'd made had simply proven how right Sarge had been.

Chance had spent his life running from commitments, escaping any real responsibility. It had always been easier to run than to take the risk of disappointing anyone or proving without a doubt that his father had been right about him and he was a loser.

Again his mind filled with thoughts of Lana, who had transformed the ranch house into a home. Lana, who had rubbed the sore muscles of his back without
him asking, who had drawn him a hot bath after a particularly grueling day.

Since the moment they had gotten married, Lana had seemed to work extra hard to make Chance's life happy. She laughed at his stupid jokes, didn't complain when he left his dirty clothes in the middle of the bathroom floor. She seemed to sense when he needed a touch of her hand, a smile of encouragement or simply an understanding silence.