Sunshine and the Shadowmaster (12 page)

Jared, who was in the process of forking up a second helping of rare roast beef, dropped the beef in disgust. The serving fork clattered against the rim of the platter. “Damn it, Heather. What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Nothing. I—”

“Don't you tell me
nothing.
I know what nothing is—and this ain't it.”

“Dad, I—”

“Jared, please—”

“Shut up, Eden,” Jared said to his wife. Then he glowered at Heather. “And
you
stop interrupting your elders.”

Both women fell silent, except for a pair of resigned sighs. Even baby Sally stopped beating her spoon on her tray and stared at her father with wide, wondering eyes.

Jared blustered on, “Whatever this is, it's got to be stopped. Lately you're lookin' as skinny as a plucked sparrow. And your eyes aren't more than two black holes in your head. You drag around like a dead woman. Everyone in town says so. Now, I know you lost your man last winter. But you were getting through that. This has come on more recently. And I'm not sitting by and watching you fade away to nothing. There's something seriously wrong with you. So I've made an appointment for you Monday with Will Bacon over at the clinic.”

Heather gaped at her father, amazed. Jared Jones wasn't a big talker as a rule, and he'd just delivered what practically amounted to a speech.

Jared cleared his throat. “Well. You hear me, Sunshine?”

Heather said nothing. No way was she paying a visit to Will Bacon on Monday. If she did that, Will would find out about the baby. And no one was going to know about her pregnancy until she was good and ready to tell them.

“I said, did you hear me, Sunshine?”

“Yes. I heard you.”

“Good. So it's settled, then.”

Heather squared her shoulders. “No, Dad. That's not true. It's not settled at all.”

Jared did a double take, then barked, “What did you say?”

“I said no.” Heather stood. Defying Jared Jones was something best attempted on one's feet. “I won't see Will Bacon.”

“I'm your father. You'll do as you're told.”

Heather couldn't believe her ears. “
I'll do as I'm told?
What is this? I'm a grown woman, Dad. I've been married and I've buried a husband. You haven't run my life in years. And you're not starting in again now.”

“The hell I'm not.” Jared shoved back his chair and rose to confront her eye to eye. “
Someone
has to look out for you.”

She stood her ground. “I can look out for myself.”

Jared let out a loud grunt of disgust, then he balled his napkin and threw it down beside his plate. “You can look out for yourself?” he mocked. “Just look at you. Skinny as a rail, walking around half dead. It can't go on. You'll see Will Bacon.”

“I will not.”

“Jared,” Eden ventured gingerly, “I really don't think laying down ultimatums is the way to settle this problem.”

Jared turned to his wife. “Didn't I tell you a minute ago to let me handle this?”

“Actually,” Eden said, correcting him too sweetly, “
‘shut up'
was what you said.”

Jared coughed. “I did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, whatever I said, what I meant was I'll handle it.” He turned on Heather once more. “You'll see Will Bacon if I have to drag you there by the hair.”

“No, I will not.”

“You will!”

“I will not!”

From her high chair, Sally let out a little cry of distress. Heather and Jared looked at her guiltily, snapped their mouths shut in unison and dropped to their chairs.

Jared carefully picked up his napkin and smoothed it over his knees again. “You're going,” he said quietly.

Heather said nothing. She'd do what she had to do when the time came. She bent to grab her own napkin, which had dropped to the floor unheeded when she stood.

Sally made a few questioning, cooing sounds.

“There, honey,” Eden murmured. “It's okay now.”

Heather folded her hands in her lap and breathed deeply. Her stomach didn't feel too great right at that moment. Pregnancy and shouting matches, evidently, weren't a good combination.

Jared's appetite, however, remained undiminished. He reached over and forked up the slab of roast beef that he'd dropped a few minutes before. Bloody juices dripped from it. Jared plunked the juicy beef on his plate in the middle of a half-congealed puddle of gravy and potatoes. Then he ladled more gravy on top of it all, cut off a big hunk and shoved it into his mouth.

Heather, frozen watching all this in appalled fascination, felt her stomach rise and roll. She knew with stunning certainty that she was about to throw up.

“Heather, are you all right?” Eden asked.

Heather didn't waste time answering. She shot to her feet and ran for the bathroom.

“What the—?” her father began.

“Heather?” her stepmother cried in concern.

But Heather hardly heard them. Every fiber of her being was concentrated on making it to the commode before the contents of her stomach came out her mouth.

She did make it, barely. She shoved the door shut behind her and dropped to the floor, yanking the seat up and out of the way in the nick of time.

She retched, repeatedly. And then she slumped there, in that ignominious position, hugging the cool, white porcelain and waiting to see if there would be more.

Shortly, there
was
more. She submitted to it, riding it out, until she was heaving up nothing.

She heard the door open. She moaned.

“Oh, honey,” her stepmother said, crooning.

Heather breathed deeply and moaned again. She heard water running, and then Eden was sitting on the floor beside her, rubbing a cool, moist cloth over her forehead.

“Is it stopping?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Oh, honey,” Eden murmured again. And they both waited, Eden stroking the soothing, cool cloth on Heather's forehead and temples, Heather breathing deeply, a little more sure as each second passed that it just might be over—for now, anyway.

“Well?” Eden asked.

Heather nodded. “Yes. I think it's okay. Yes.” She moaned. “My mouth tastes so awful. Like something died in there.”

“We can take care of that.” Eden laid the wet cloth over the rim of the tub. Then she pulled open the door of the cabinet beneath the sink and produced a new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. She quickly unwrapped the brush, squirted a line of toothpaste on in, and handed it to Heather.

Heather dragged herself upright, leaned over the sink and brushed the foul taste away. She felt a little better, once she'd rinsed her mouth and wiped it dry.

“Come back down here.” Eden, who was still sitting on the floor, held up her arms. “Come on.” Heather sank beside her again. Eden gathered her in and cradled her gently, rocking her a little, smoothing her clammy hair back with a tender hand and murmuring soft, wordless, soothing things.

Heather went limp. It felt so good to be held. Lately, the world had seemed such a dangerous, hard-edged place. But now she was surrounded by loving arms. Safe. For the moment, at least.

After a time, Eden asked gently, “How far along are you?”

Heather dragged in a shuddering breath. She should probably lie, she knew it. Deny she was pregnant. Keep her secret, at least for now, when she didn't know how she was going to handle it all yet. But she felt so tired of holding everything in. She needed someone to talk to. Someone she could trust. And she knew Eden was that someone, if anyone was.

After a quick glance at the door to see that it was firmly shut, Heather cuddled close to Eden again and confessed, “About two months.” And then she laughed against Eden's soft bosom. “It's so pitiful. I thought I wasn't very fertile, you know? We, um, didn't use anything. It was only one night. And it was my safe time. But I guess no time is really safe, is it?”

Eden went on gently rocking her. “No. No, it's not.”

“Oh, Eden. I just don't know what to do. A baby. It was what I longed for. But not exactly this way.”

“It's all right. We'll work it out,” Eden reassured her. “Have you decided what you want to do?”

“Only that I'm going to keep it. Someway. Somehow.”

“Is Lucas Drury the man?”

Heather went still.

Eden chuckled, a sisterly sound, full of love, acceptance and complete understanding. “Hey. Come on. He stayed alone with you during those awful three days when Mark ran away. And that was two months ago, so the timing's perfect, right?”

Heather burrowed closer to Eden. “Mmm.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Okay,” Heather breathed. “Yes, it was Lucas.” Lord, how it hurt just to say his name. “But promise me you won't tell Dad.”

Eden didn't hesitate. “Of course not, if that's how you want it.”

“It is.”

“All right then.” She smoothed Heather's hair some more. “Have you told Lucas?”

Heather groaned. “Oh, no. I haven't. I couldn't....”

“Then it's damn sure time
somebody
did.”

Both women gasped at the sound of the cold, raspy voice.

Heather sat bolt upright; Eden gave a little cry as she craned her head around.

Jared stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob, his chest thrust out and his booted feet planted wide apart. Heather cursed her own thoughtlessness in not checking to see that the door was locked as well as shut. When he wanted to, Jared Jones could move with all the stealth of a stalking cougar.

“Jared.” Eden's voice was weighted with dread. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know what's wrong with my little girl—not to mention who the hell's to blame for it.”

Both women stared at him, then shared a grim glance. Jared had that look. That ready-for-a-fight look.

It was a look he used to get a lot, back in the days before Eden. But since he'd found love, everyone had thought the street fighter inside him was tamed.

Apparently not.

Heather tried to make her voice sound threatening. “You stay out of this, Dad. It's not your business. It's my problem and I'll handle it myself.”

“The hell you say. I'm leaving for Monterey. Right away.”

“No!” Heather cried out.

“Jared, please—” Eden began.

But Jared wasn't listening. “I want his address, Heather.”

She scoffed. “Forget it. No way.”

He glowered at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. I know who else has got it. Marnie. I'll get it out of her.” He started to turn.

Heather scrambled to her feet and launched herself at him, managing to snare his arm. “Please, Dad. Don't.”

“Let go of me, Heather.”

She looked up at her father, pleading with her eyes. But she knew she was wasting her time. Her pleas would do no good.

The best she was going to be able to do was put a condition or two on his going. Because he
would
go. She could only mitigate the disaster he was determined to create.

She agreed, “All right. I'll give you Lucas's address.”

“Smart girl.”

“Under one condition.”

“No conditions.”

“Hear me out.”

Eden stuck up for Heather. “Yes, Jared. At least listen to what she has to say.”

Jared looked at his wife, then nodded briefly at his daughter. “Say it. I don't have all night.”

“Take me with you,” Heather said.

Jared considered, then told her, “No. If it gets too ugly, it won't be good for you—in your delicate condition, I mean. You already threw up once tonight from yelling too much. You take it easy. I'll handle this. Now let go of my arm.”

Heather held on, furious at his idiotic, macho pigheadedness, but knowing her fury would do her no good. She tamped it down, her mind racing a thousand miles a minute to come up with another compromise. She had it. “Then take Grandpa Oggie—and I'll give you the address.”

Jared's brows drew together. “What for? Why your grandpa?”

Because if anyone can keep you two from killing each other, it's Grandpa,
she thought. But all she said was, “Take him. Please.”

Jared considered again and this time he nodded. “Hell. All right. Call the old coot right now.”

Eden stood. “I have a better idea. I'll go over to Delilah's and get him. You two wait here.”

Jared leveled his suspicious gaze on one woman and then the other. But then at last he grunted, “All right. Go get him.”

* * *

Eden returned with Oggie twenty minutes later. Jared and Heather were waiting outside for them.

“Good to see you're all finally learnin' who to come to in a crisis,” Oggie announced, when Eden stopped the pickup truck in front of the cabin.

“Yeah, right,” Jared muttered.

“Now what the hell's the problem?” Oggie inquired.

Jared had baby Sally in his arms. He held her out to Eden as she emerged from the truck. “Didn't you tell him?”

Eden took the child. “I said it was an emergency, that's all. It's Heather's business, after all, Jared.”

“What's Heather's business?” Oggie leaned out the passenger window to shout the question so that everyone could hear him. “What is going on?”

“Heather's got herself pregnant and Lucas Drury's to blame,” Jared said with his usual tact and finesse.

“Oh, Dad,” Heather groaned. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hit her father on the head with a large, blunt object. Unfortunately there wasn't one handy.

Oggie let out a low whistle. “Well, what do you know? That is deep. That is moving.”

Heather wondered if her grandfather might be losing it just a little. “What are you talking about, Grandpa?”

“Life. Its mysteries, its wonders.”