Sympathy Pains (7 page)

He stood with a smile. “Are you interested in first editions?” he asked. “I have some fine ones in my library if you'd care to look.”

Marilee got up, thankful for normal conversation. “I'd love to see them,” she said. “Reading is one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Oh, I don't read these,” Gavin said as he cupped her elbow and led her into the library.

Marilee frowned. “Really? Why on earth not?”

Gavin smiled, although his gut was in knots. He didn't want his son tied down to some nobody and was appalled that they were already married.
If only Justin had come to him first, he could have advised him to deal with this differently.

“Because they're worth a lot of money, you know, and some of them are very rare. Using them might damage them.”

But Marilee was still frowning. “Yes, of course, I understood that. But they aren't like fine paintings, are they? One can admire a Degas or a Van Gogh without touching it, but what good is a book—rare or not—if it can't be read?”

Gavin was stumped for an answer. As they entered the library, he glanced toward the shelves holding his prize collection. Row upon row of leather-bound books were there for all to see, but as he stared, it occurred to him that she had a point. From where he was standing, all there was to see were the spines of the books. It was what was inside them that mattered after all.

“Do you have a favorite?” Marilee asked.

Gavin blinked, suddenly remembering where he was, and then moved toward the shelves.

“It would be hard to pick a favorite, but I'll show you the one I owned first.” He took down a copy of
Huckleberry Finn
and handed it to her. “My daddy gave this to me for my tenth birthday.”

When Marilee saw the title, she smiled and nodded as she gently ran her hands over the book.

“Samuel Clemens was an interesting man, don't you think? And yet, in spite of his fame, his personal life was so tragic. It's amazing that a man who suffered so badly from depression could be so creative.”

Amazed by her knowledge, Gavin did nothing but nod. To his surprise, Marilee kept talking.

“He and his wife had four children, didn't they? Or was it three? No, four, because the son died early on, and then his favorite daughter, Susy, died when she was young. It nearly killed him. Soon after, I think his wife passed away and then another daughter sometime after that. I believe he had one daughter who survived him.” Marilee handed the book back to Gavin with a sigh and then unconsciously laid the flat of her hand across her belly. “I can't think of anything sadder than for a parent to outlive his children.”

Gavin felt shame as he put the book back on the shelf. So he'd misjudged her education. That still didn't mean she wasn't a gold digger. Without giving himself time to rethink his options, he strode to his desk and took out another book, only this one was black and flat and contained a pad of blank checks. He opened the cover, making sure that Marilee saw what was inside, and then he picked up a pen.

“How much?” he asked.

She frowned. “I'm sorry?”

Her innocence seemed genuine, but he wouldn't let himself be swayed. Judith was livid and he'd promised to fix this the same way he fixed everything that went wrong.

“Don't play innocent with me, lady. I've been around too long. How much do you want to disappear from my son's life?”

Marilee recoiled as if she'd been slapped. This had taken her by surprise, and try as she might, she knew her eyes were tearing. But she wasn't going to cry—not in front of him. She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing.

“Oh...I don't know,” she drawled. “Exactly how much do you think your grandchild's life is worth?”

Gavin stifled a smile, convinced that he'd read her right after all.

“How does fifty thousand sound?” he asked.

“Like you don't think much of your own bloodline,” she snapped, and then turned toward the door as Justin strolled through. “Justin! You're just in time!”

He smiled. “In time for what?”

Gavin's gut started to knot. This wasn't going the way he'd planned.

“Your father has just offered me fifty thousand dollars to disappear with your child, and I would
appreciate it if you would tell him that this whole marriage thing was your idea, not mine.” Then she turned toward Gavin and fixed him with a cold, angry stare. “As for you,” she muttered, “I don't want your money any more than I want Justin's, and if you so much as offer me change for a parking meter, I will personally kick your worthless butt all the way to Sunday.”

She stomped out of the library with her chin up and her eyes blazing. She made it all the way to her room before she started to cry, unaware that Justin was picking up where she'd left off.

* * *

Justin punched his forefinger against the second button of his father's white shirt. “You son of a bitch! How dare you! I'm not some randy sixteen-year-old who needs his daddy to get him out of trouble. I've known Marilee for more than a year. I care for her deeply. She's a good, honest woman and she's going to have my child.”

“How can you be sure it's yours?” Gavin asked.

This time Justin didn't put his finger on his father's shirt; he put it in his face.

“Because I am,” he said softly. “And if I ever hear you say otherwise again, you'll be out of my life—permanently. Do I make myself clear?”

Gavin paled. “Justin, son, you don't mean that.
You're our only child. You can't possibly be choosing a stranger over us?”

“But that's just it, Dad. She's not a stranger to me and she's going to have my baby, which leaves you with one choice. Shut up or get out.”

He pivoted angrily and strode out of the room, leaving Gavin Wheeler with the distinct impression that he'd just barely escaped intact. He frowned. Judith wasn't going to like this one bit, which meant that his life was going to become even more complicated than before.

Justin found Marilee in tears on their bed. Gathering her into his arms, he rocked her where they sat.

“I'm so sorry that happened,” he said. “That was unforgivable, but I promise it won't happen again.”

Marilee shuddered on a sob. “Just forget it.”

“Can you?”

She couldn't answer and wouldn't look at him, and it shamed him that she'd had to endure such an affront.

“How about an early night?” he asked. “I have a big assortment of movies. I'll even let you pick.”

Knowing he was doing all he knew how to make her feel better, she nodded an okay.

“Great,” he said. “You get your nightgown on
and I'll turn on the TV. When you're ready, the videos are all in that cabinet.”

“Okay.”

Justin watched her as she got up from the bed. The larger her belly grew, the more fragile she appeared. It was almost as if the baby was sapping all of her strength. The thought frightened him. What would happen to her when it came time to deliver? Would she be strong enough to withstand the rigors of childbirth, or—

He shuddered and then thrust away the notion, refusing to accept any but positive thoughts.

Marilee undressed in the bathroom and then slipped on her nightgown. When she turned to wash her face and brush her teeth, she refused to look at her own reflection, afraid that the fear in her heart would be evident on her face. This situation wasn't good. All she could do was pray that it would eventually change. Living in this atmosphere wasn't going to be healthy—for her or for her child.

When she came out of the bathroom, Justin was nowhere in sight. Nervously she glanced at the door, wondering what battles were being waged beyond, then moved toward the cabinet where the videos were stored. The selection of movies was broader than she had expected. After a few minutes of browsing, she chose one and carried it
with her back to the bed. Crawling in between the sheets, she propped herself up with the pillows.

The room was quiet; the muted colors of beige and blue soothing. In spite of the drama of the earlier events, she found herself beginning to relax. As the tension in her muscles began to ease, her eyelids drooped. She was hovering near sleep when the sound of approaching footsteps brought her upright. Seconds later, Justin came in with a flourish, bearing a tray of goodies.

“We can't watch movies without popcorn,” he said, and set the tray down on the foot of the bed.

Marilee kicked back the covers as she inspected the tray, immediately nibbling on the popped corn as she poked through the other bowls.

“Mmm...chocolate.”

“And cold pop,” Justin added, lifting a napkin off two cans of soda.

“Pickles?” she asked, picking up a small jar of dills.

Justin grinned. “For my round little wife.”

Marilee smiled, but she wanted to cry. He was trying so hard to do everything right.

“You don't have to eat them,” Justin added. “I just brought them in case.”

She laughed and the sound struck Justin all the way to his soul. His eyes raked her face, remembering the last time they'd been this happy and
carefree. God, what he wouldn't give for a Monopoly game and a real good blizzard.

“What movie did you pick?” he asked.

Her mouth was full of popcorn, so she pointed instead of answering. He picked it up.

“Dances with Wolves?”

“It's one of my all-time favorites.”

He started to smile. “Mine, too,” he said. “Another thing we have in common.” He started the movie and then kicked off his boots, stripped off his shirt and jeans and crawled into bed wearing nothing but a pair of briefs.

With the bowl of popcorn between them and the tray at their feet, they settled down to watch—Marilee watching the movie, Justin watching Marilee. An hour later she was asleep.

Justin removed the tray and set it on the floor beside their bed then turned off the VCR. Gently lifting all but one of the pillows from beneath her head, he smiled as she burrowed beneath the covers. He stood for a moment, watching her sleep, and then very carefully lifted a lock of hair from near her mouth and kissed the place where it had been lying. She tasted of popcorn and soda and just the faintest hint of sweet chocolate. Still smiling, he circled the bed and crawled in beside her. Spooning himself against the curve of her
back, he cupped his hand upon her belly and buried his nose against the nape of her neck.

Quiet descended.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he felt a slight thump against his palm.

“Yes, Baby, Daddy's here,” he said softly, and then took a deep breath of satisfaction.

When he opened his eyes, it was morning.

M
arilee woke up hot. It took her a few moments to realize she wasn't coming down with a fever, but was wrapped in Justin's arms. Her tummy was rolling and she needed to go to the bathroom, but getting up was impossible until he turned her loose.

“Justin, I need to get up,” she said, nudging him gently.

He came awake instantly. “What?” he muttered. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need to get up.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, and rolled over.

As she stood, she groaned softly. Lord, she
could barely remember what it felt like not to hurt somewhere.

Justin opened a sleepy eye. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Just a little nauseated,” she said. “It will pass.”

She stumbled to the bathroom. A couple of minutes later, she opened the door to find Justin sitting on the side of the bed in a slump.

“What's wrong with you?” she asked, noticing the thin film of sweat on his upper lip and the pallor of his skin.

“I don't feel so good,” he muttered, then bolted past her into the bathroom just in time to throw up.

Sympathy for his misery sent Marilee into the bathroom behind him where she handed him a cold washcloth to put on his face.

“This will make you feel better,” she said. When he hesitated, she insisted. “Trust me. I know.”

He swiped the cloth across his face as he sat down on the side of the tub. “Man, I don't know where that came from.”

“I hope you're not coming down with a bug of some sort,” Marilee said.

“It doesn't feel like a bug,” Justin said. “In fact, I'm already beginning to feel better.”

“Maybe it was all that junk we ate last night before we went to sleep.”

He shrugged. “Maybe, although I've eaten worse with no ill effects.”

“Do you think it's over?” she asked.

He nodded and then tossed the washcloth on the side of the tub as he stood. “Come on, honey, let's get dressed. Maria will fix breakfast as soon as we show up.”

She arched an eyebrow. If he was already thinking of food, then he was definitely on the mend. “Maria is the cook, right? The woman who served dinner last night?”

“Yes, she's been here for almost thirty years. She worked for my grandfather before I inherited the place.”

“Does everyone eat together at every meal?” she asked.

Justin sighed. After what she'd endured yesterday, he couldn't blame her for dreading another confrontation.

“Usually,” he said, and then wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug. “Don't worry, darlin'. Everything will be different today—I can promise you that.”

“I don't see how,” she said.

Justin's chin jutted mutinously. “Trust me.”

She sighed and then looked up. “You have to know by now that I already do or I wouldn't be here, subjecting myself to this crap.”

There was nothing he could say that would change the truth. “Give me a couple of minutes to brush my teeth and get dressed. Then we'll go, okay?”

While Justin was in the bathroom, Marilee dressed in shorts and a pink, loose-fitting top. By the time he emerged, she was pulling her hair up into a ponytail in deference to the heat.