Schulze, Dallas (15 page)

“You know that’s what he said.”

Gavin, on the other hand, was not going to be as easy to deal
with. Lila straightened away from the bed and arranged her expression into a
pleasant smile before turning to face her stepson.

“I believe your father did say something like that, but I think
this is a better arrangement. Now, why don’t we take your things into the next
room?” Without giving him a chance to argue, she picked up Bishop’s bag,
scooped the key off the dresser, and headed out the door. She heard Gavin come
up behind her as she was unlocking the door to the room next door and felt a
sense of relief that he hadn’t simply ignored her. The relief was short-lived,
however.

“You’re going to have a baby, aren’t you?”

Bishop’s bag dropped from Lila’s suddenly nerveless fingers,
hitting the floor with a thump. She turned to look at the boy.

“What?”

“I heard him tell Mr. Lyman that you got married months ago. Only
you didn’t, did you?” His eyes were steady on her face.

If Bishop had to have two children, why couldn’t they both have
been Angel’s age? Lila wondered distractedly. Why did one of them have to be
this boy with his watchful blue eyes and his uncomfortable questions? She could
lie to him, of course, but he’d probably recognize it for what it was.

“Your father and I were married recently,” she admitted carefully.

“Are you going to have a baby?” he asked, pursuing his line of
thinking with the ruthlessness characteristic of members of the Inquisition and
the very young.

“Yes.” There was no sense in denying something that would soon be
obvious to anyone who cared to look.

“Is that why you married him? Because you were going to have a
baby?”

Though Lila had seen the question coming, it still knocked the
breath from her. Her first impulse was to tell him that he was mistaken, that
her pregnancy had nothing to do with her reasons for marrying Bishop. But
looking into those blue eyes, so like his father’s in both color and
expression, she knew that it would accomplish nothing to lie to him. Not only
would he recognize it for what it was, but it would damage any chance she might
have of gaining his respect, let alone his friendship.

“I don’t think my reasons for marrying your father are any of your
business,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “What’s important is that we
are married and the four of us are a family now.”

Gavin appeared to consider that, his expression thoughtful.
Standing there, in his dark suit, his black hair mussed from taking off his
hat, he looked like any other twelve-year-old boy, until she saw the maturity
in his eyes. She remembered what Bishop had said about the children being
unhappy with their grandparents and wondered what had happened there to make
Gavin so much older than his years.

“Angel likes you,” he said thoughtfully.

“I like her.”

“She looks like our mother.”

“Does she?” Lila felt as if she were picking her way over a sheet
of thin ice. “Your mother must have been very pretty.”

“She was. Angel doesn’t remember her but I do.” “You must miss
her,” Lila said.

“Sometimes.” Gavin shrugged but, for just a moment, his eyes
revealed a stark grief that tore at Lila’s heart. The expression was gone in an
instant but she knew it hadn’t been her imagination.

“I lost both my parents a few years ago. They were killed in a
carriage accident. I miss them all the time.”

He shot her a quick look, his eyes guarded, but his only response
was another shrug.

“You’re lucky to still have your father,” she said, knowing that
she was treading on very thin ice and curious to see his reaction. It came in
the form of a quick flash of emotion, gone too fast for her to identify. Rage?
Hatred?

“He
doesn’t care about us.”

Lila noticed the emphasis he put on the pronoun and realized that
she’d yet to hear him refer to Bishop in any other way. Angel called him Papa
as easily as if she’d been living with him all her life, but Gavin referred to
him only as “he.” That the boy was bitter, she’d already known. But it was
obvious that the gap between father and son was much wider than she’d realized.

“Did you know that your father didn’t plan to bring you with us
right away?” she asked him. “He’d planned to send for you later, after the baby
was born. Do you know why he changed his mind?” Gavin shrugged again, keeping
his gaze on the floor between them. Lila wasn’t fooled by his apparent
indifference.

“He told me that you were unhappy and that was why he didn’t leave
you with your grandparents.”

Gavin’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and startled.

“Sounds to me like he cares,” Lila added softly. She wasn’t sure
why it mattered to her whether Gavin knew that his father cared. The boy
hadn’t, thus far, done anything to endear himself to her, unless it was with
his meticulous concern for his little sister. She just knew it was important
that the boy know his father cared.

“Maybe.” He looked away again, apparently unimpressed by her
words, but Lila had seen the hunger in his eyes and was unimpressed by his
indifference.

“I’ll leave you to unpack,” she said, judging it best to give him
time to digest her words. “I don’t know about you, but I’m almost as tired as
Angel. I’m going to lie down for a little while. You might like to do the
same.”

She walked to the door without waiting for an answer. She had her
hand on the knob when Gavin spoke from behind her.

“You’re not my mother and I’m
not
going to call you that.”
There was challenge in his voice, and it was echoed in the set of his chin when
she turned to look at him.

Was there no end to the problems associated with being a
stepmother? Was she going to spend the rest of her life involved in diplomatic
discussions with Bishop’s children? She chose her words with care.

“I’m not really old enough to be your mother,” she said lightly.
“And I’m certainly not foolish enough to try to take her place.”

Gavin looked at her uncertainly. She guessed that he’d been
expecting an argument, perhaps even wanted one, and, when she didn’t give it to
him, he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Angel is little, she may want to call you mother,” he said,
probing for her reaction.

“Why don’t we leave that up to Angel?” Lila’s mind reeled at the
thought but she kept her tone casual.

“Okay.” Gavin looked down, studying the toe of his shoe. Sensing
that the conversation was not over, Lila waited. It didn’t take him long. He
looked up at her, his eyes, so like his father’s, curious and not quite as wary
as they had been. “What do I call you?”

Good question, Lila thought. It was something she should have
considered before now.

“I guess you could call me Stepmother,” she said slowly. She
wrinkled her nose. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”

Gavin nodded.

“And Mother Lila is even worse. Besides, it makes me sound like
someone who should be carrying a cane and wearing thick shoes, doesn’t it?”

Gavin nodded again and she caught the merest hint of a smile
teasing the corners of his mouth. It was the first time she’d seen him smile at
anyone other than his sister.

“Why don’t we keep it simple for both of us? There are those who
won’t approve, but I think you should just call me Lila.”

“Okay.” He shrugged to show how little it mattered but she’d
already seen his eyes widen in quick surprise and caught a glimpse of that
almost smile again. He was going to break hearts when he was older, she
thought. Just like his father.

Not that she had any intention of letting Bishop break
her
heart, she assured herself as she stepped out into the hall.

It seemed as if half the town’s population had been struck by a
sudden urge to sample Dot Lyman’s cooking. Bishop hadn’t thought it possible to
get so many people into the hotel’s dining room but, with some chairs dragged
in from the lobby, a little determination, and a willingness to eat without
moving their elbows, every table was filled to capacity and a bit beyond. Most
of the diners made a show of being there to enjoy the food, but the more honest
among them gave scant attention to the meal and concentrated instead on the
real reason they’d abandoned hearth and home, which was to take a look at the
sheriff’s brand-new family.

Bishop shifted in his seat, uneasy at finding himself the center
of so much attention. The only time he’d ever had so many people staring at him
at once was in the aftermath of a shooting. Unconsciously he reached down to
loosen his gun in its holster, only to remember at the last minute that he
wasn’t wearing a gun. Irritated, he reached for his coffee cup. Curiosity
wasn’t a shooting offense, he reminded himself. But he was starting to think it
ought to be.

“Frowning isn’t going to do any good,” Lila said without looking
up from the task of cutting up Angel’s meat.

“The way they’re acting, you’d think they’d never seen anybody eat
a meal before,” he muttered.

“What they’ve never seen is you with a family,” she told him. She
handed Angel her fork and checked to make sure the child’s napkin was in place
before looking across the table at him. “You must have known they’d be
curious.”

He
should
have known, Bishop thought. He’d lived in enough
small towns to know that one characteristic they had in common was an unending
curiosity about anyone or anything new. Six months ago, he’d come to Paris to
take the job as sheriff and, for the first few weeks, every time he walked down
the street, he’d been aware of people sliding sidelong glances in his
direction. There had been whispered speculation about whether he was as fast
with a gun as they’d heard, some half hoping they’d get a chance to see for
themselves. He knew there’d been some disagreement about whether to hire him.
There were those who thought that hiring a man like Bishop McKenzie would help
to curb the lawless element in town and those who feared that his reputation
actually would draw trouble.

As the weeks passed and he’d provided them with no spectacular
displays of his skill with a gun, the townspeople had gradually lost interest.
He should have realized that he couldn’t expect to return from his abrupt trip
East with a wife and children in tow without touching off a whole new round of
interest. Well, they could be as interested as they liked, as long as they kept
their distance.

“So, this is why I’m so overworked tonight,” a soft voice trilled
next to the table. Bishop winced. He should have known. Dot Lyman was not only
a world-class gossip and a good cook, she was the only person in town who’d
dared to ask him if his reputation was exaggerated and, if not, just how many
gunfights had he been involved in. She’d taken his blunt refusal to answer in
stride, offering neither apology nor excuse for her interest. Short and plump,
she resembled her husband so much that it would be easy to think them brother
and sister. Despite her predilection for minding other people’s business, there
was not an ounce of malice in her. She was almost childlike in her belief that
everything and everyone in Paris was her personal business. It was only natural
that she’d be the first to risk approaching the table.

“I didn’t think it was just my cooking that was drawing a crowd,”
she said with a soft giggle. “Don’t sit there like a bump on a log, Sheriff.
Introduce me to your family.”

Bishop set his napkin by his plate and rose politely. “Lila, this
is Dot Lyman. Dot, this is Lila McKenzie, my wife.”

“I didn’t think she was one of your children.” Dot giggled again
and cast Bishop a teasing look. “She’s pretty as a picture, Sheriff. Where have
you been hiding her?”

“I’ve been in Pennsylvania, Mrs. Lyman. Not hidden at all,” Lila
said, smiling at the other woman.

“Well, this husband of yours didn’t say a word to anyone about
getting married when he went East a few months ago. In fact, I didn’t even know
he’d been married before, let alone that he had two beautiful children. And if
I didn’t know it, no one did,” she said with simple pride. “What are their
names?”

Bishop turned to perform the introductions and was surprised and
pleased to see that Gavin had risen from his seat. He should have guessed that
the one thing his former mother-in-law would have drummed into the children was
good manners.

While Dot expressed her amazement over how tall Gavin was and how
much like his father and exclaimed that Angel was the most beautiful child
she’d ever seen, Bishop became aware of the sudden silence that had seized the
room. Not a single fork clinked on a single plate. No one spoke. It seemed as
if they barely breathed as every ear strained to hear what was being said at
the corner table. Not that they had to worry about missing anything, Bishop
thought cynically. Anything that was said to Dot would soon become common
knowledge.

“So I understand you and Bishop were married in February when he
went back East.” Dot fixed Lila with a bright-eyed look, apparently deciding
enough pleasantries had been observed and that it was time to get to the heart
of the matter.