The Lawman's Little Surprise (4 page)

BOOK: The Lawman's Little Surprise
9.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“We'll go to the candle-lighting service at the church, of course,” Hettie went on, before Trish could say more. “Kate was so nice to make up some cookie dough and freeze it. Freda is going to bake them, along with some wonderful Swedish dishes for the smorgasbord. We do so want you and Aggie both to join us.”

“It's going to be strange not to have Kate with us this year,” Aggie said with a sigh from the backseat.

“Ernie and Freda have had their heads together, planning everything,” Hettie continued. “Please say you'll come, Trish. It would mean so much to me.”

Trish couldn't refuse Hettie's request. Next to Aunt Aggie, Hettie had been like a second mother. The women were such opposites, much like she and Kate were, that it was sometimes comical to watch them together. And they both expected their words to be law and their wishes to be granted.

“Of course I'll be there,” she said. “Aunt Aggie is right, it won't be Christmas with just the two of us. Sharing it with everyone at the Commune will be fun and make up for Kate being gone on her honeymoon.” Somehow she'd get through it
and
enjoy herself.

They arrived at the Blue Barn and helped Kate with little chores before people began arriving. Once the first of the guests arrived and the crowd grew, Trish was too busy to do anything except try to enjoy it all. As the evening wore on, she became more tired, but she was
determined to see it through to the end. She'd heard Morgan had been there for a few minutes, but she hadn't seen him. It was just as well. What she had to tell him had to be done in private.

When the time finally came for the bride and groom to be on their way, Kate pulled Trish aside. “I'll call you on New Year's Eve,” Kate told her. “We'll be in port then. Maybe on Christmas, too, but I can't promise that.”

Trish felt tears coming on and could only nod. She was already beginning to miss her sister.

“You haven't told Morgan yet, have you?” Kate asked.

Swallowing the lump of emotion in her throat, Trish answered. “Not yet, and I don't know if I'll see him before Christmas Eve. Aunt Aggie and I are supposed to spend it with Hettie at the Commune, and I expect Morgan will be there for at least part of the evening.”

“Maybe Christmas Eve, then?” Kate asked gently. “What a present that could be!”

A vision of what Morgan's reaction might be popped into Trish's mind. “Or not,” she said, feeling far from positive about it. “But it would be the best time.”

“And the worst time for me to be gone,” Kate said, her eyes filled with concern.

Trish tried for a smile. “I'm a big girl. I can handle it. And I'm the one who got myself into this.”

“With a little help from Morgan,” Kate reminded her. “You can't put it off, Trish. Not with Morgan, anyway. And with Aunt Aggie and Hettie leaving for their cruise after the first of the year…”

Sighing, Trish shook her head. “Let's wait to tell them when they get back. I don't want anything to interfere
with their trip, and I'm afraid they both might feel they need to cancel and stay home with me. But you're right. I've put off telling Morgan for as long as I can. Christmas Eve may be my best chance.”

Kate wrapped her in her arms and hugged her. “
Make
it the best chance, Trish.”

Knowing she couldn't put it off, Trish nodded. “I'll try.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

 

B
Y THE END OF THE NEXT WEEK
, the weather had turned colder and the wind blew the limbs of the bare trees back and forth. Winter had definitely set in around Desperation.

As Trish stepped out of the church on Christmas Eve, she pulled her knit cap farther down around her ears. Apprehension had grown by the day, and she'd been nervous about what she knew she must do that evening. Now that they were headed for the Commune, she hoped her nervous stomach didn't embarrass her or ruin the evening for everyone.

“That was a beautiful service, as always,” Hettie said, walking on one side of Trish.

“I've never been to a Christmas Eve candle-lighting service that wasn't,” Aggie agreed from the other side. “I'm glad we decided to walk.”

Trish, who had been half listening to the conversation, spoke. “Your knee isn't bothering you?”

“Nope,” Aggie answered. “Doc Priller prescribed some new pills for me, and they seem to be doing the trick.”

“I'm so glad to hear it,” Trish told her sincerely.

They chatted on about the wedding the week before and gossip in Desperation. Just the mention of gossip reminded Trish that she would soon be the subject of it, which led to a churning stomach at the prospect of what the rest of the evening would bring. By the time they reached the stone steps of the Commune, she was ready to turn around and run away from it all, but she knew that was childish. She couldn't put it off. And she wanted some answers. She only hoped it didn't mar the evening for anyone other than the two of them.

Freda greeted them at the door, her round cheeks rosy and her smile as bright as the sun. “Good. Good. Now I have my ladies here to help.” She stepped back to let them through the door. “Trish, you're all right?”

Startled, Trish looked up, her stomach tightening. “Yes, I am. Why?” It was if Freda had sensed her secret.

Freda cocked her head to one side and then shook it, smiling. “Nothing. You look a little tired.”

Relief swept through Trish. “After-wedding letdown, I guess,” she said with a smile.

“Yes, it has been so very busy. But only a few more days and life will be quiet.”

Trish knew this wouldn't be the case. More than likely, life would be topsy-turvy for quite some time.

They followed Freda to the kitchen, where pot after pot simmered on the double stove. “Smells wonderful, Freda,” Hettie said, sniffing the air.

Freda's grin widened. “Good. Good.” She picked up a platter piled high with appetizers and handed it to Trish. “The guests will start with this, while we put the rest on the sideboard and the table in the dining room. It will take the edge off their hunger until we are ready.”

Trish checked out the contents of the plate. “Meatballs?”


Köttbullar,
” Freda answered, nodding. “Go on. Try one.”

Picking up one of the small, round meatballs stuck with a toothpick, Trish nibbled. “Oh, yes,” she said and popped the rest of it into her mouth, closing her eyes and savoring it.

“Is it all Swedish fare this year?” Aggie asked.

“Oh, no,” Freda answered. “Only the
köttbullar
and
lussekatter.
That is Saint Lucia buns. And the
Risgryngröt.

“What's reesgr…” Hettie laughed. “Whatever you said.”

“Rice porridge. It is special.”

“How's that?”

“You will see,” Freda answered with a mysterious smile. She gave Trish a nudge. “Go. Take the tray. They are all in the library waiting. Hettie and Aggie and I will get everything set up for the smorgasbord. It won't take us long.”

Trish would have rather stayed in the kitchen, but no one was giving her the choice. In the hallway, she found Ernie talking to Elaine and Harold Anderson, who had been the first couple to move into the Commune when it opened.

“Why, Trish, what have you brought us?” Elaine asked when she saw Trish approaching.

When she reached them, Trish held out the tray. “Freda's Swedish meatballs. Dinner will be ready soon, but you can enjoy these until then.”

Harold turned to Ernie. “I've always wondered where
you found Freda. She's a wonder in the kitchen. Keeps us all well fed.”

“I met her on my travels,” Ernie answered. “There wasn't a better cook in all of Sweden, and she was eager to see America. It was one of those win-win things for both of us.” He turned to Trish. “Go on in. Everybody is gathered in the library.”

Ernie opened the door to the library, and Trish stepped inside to find the room crowded with people. “
Köttbullar,
anyone?”

Knowing all the residents of the Commune and their families, she spoke to each person. She was fully aware that Morgan was among them, but tried to avoid looking at him. Her stomach was fluttering, and she had to make an effort to calm her racing heart. Anticipation, she reminded herself, was usually worse than the deed.

Ready to put that deed into motion, she approached Morgan, who stood near the blazing fireplace, a cup of eggnog in his hand. “I hope that's the nonalcoholic version,” she teased with a smile she hoped didn't wobble.

“It's the only way to drink it when I know I'll be on duty later.” He took a meatball from the tray and bit into it. “Mmm. These are fantastic,” he exclaimed as he took another.

Nodding, she took a breath. “We need to talk.”

He glanced around the room before looking at her directly. “Okay. Now?”

“Later, after dinner.”

“I can do that. But just so you know, I have to make rounds.”

“It won't take long.” She couldn't even muster a smile and left him with a puzzled look on his face. She was
halfway across the room on unsteady legs when Ernie walked in to announce that dinner was ready.

Although she participated in the evening's festivities, including the scrumptious smorgasbord Freda had prepared, Trish's evening passed by in a blur—until she found the almond in her pudding.

“According to tradition,” Freda had announced when Trish discovered the surprise in her dish, “the person to find the almond is to marry in the coming year.”

Trish barely commented. All she could think about was the task that awaited her when dinner was over.

The company was almost as good as being with her family, and she didn't miss Kate as much as she thought she might. She was wondering how Kate and Dusty were enjoying their honeymoon cruise when she saw Morgan speak to Ernie. He glanced at her, nodded, and then slipped out of the room. Excusing herself, she followed and found him waiting for her in the hallway.

“Is this a good time?” He glanced at his watch. “I have maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes is fine,” she said, her throat closing on the words.

Crooking her finger for him to follow, she led him farther down the hall, away from the main rooms of the Commune. When they came to the small nook under the stairs, she took a deep breath to steady herself, unsure if her legs were going to hold her, and stepped into the shadows. Morgan followed. She felt light-headed and took another deep breath. “I'm pregnant.”

Time seemed to stand still. Morgan was looking at her, his eyes a little wider than usual, his face pale and
his mouth open as if he'd been ready to say something. But there was nothing coming out.

He blinked once, then again. Closing his mouth, he gave a small shake of his head. “Pregnant?”

Trish prayed the dark edges of the room wouldn't take over everything in her vision, and then everything cleared. She nodded.

Chapter Four

Morgan stared at Trish, the woman he'd loved—and still loved, in spite of knowing he shouldn't. Her fair skin was paler than normal, and he guessed his probably was, too.

“When?” he finally managed to ask. The fact that she wasn't saying anything bothered him. “There's no way,” he continued, shaking his head. “We didn't…”

And then he remembered.

“You're right,” Trish said. “We didn't.”

For one brief second, he almost believed nothing had happened, that they hadn't made love. But they had. He'd provoked an argument with her the night before she left on her tour, knowing that for her sake he had to break it off with her. But knowing it would all be over between them when she returned, he had gone beyond his own limits, and the argument had led to making love.

Now he understood why she had said they didn't. She'd meant they didn't take precautions.

He leaned against the wall for support as he closed his eyes and groaned, in spite of trying to stop it. Slowly opening them, he saw her watching him.

“Then you remember,” she said.

He nodded and straightened. “Yes, I remember.” He
waited for her to say more, but she remained silent. He knew he had treated her badly that night. Did she think he would run from his responsibility? Could he blame her if she did? He certainly hadn't been responsible about taking precautions.

“What do you plan to do?” he asked, knowing full well she would expect to get married. He knew he should offer to marry her, but he wouldn't risk leaving her a widow and his child without a father. He could offer financial support, but little more.

Silence grew between them, until her shoulders raised and lowered as she took a deep breath. Squaring them, she looked at him with a determination he'd never seen before. “It all depends.”

“Depends on what?” he asked.

“On whether you can be honest.”

He had a feeling he didn't want to know what that meant. “Honest about what?”

“The reason you canceled our wedding.”

He couldn't tell her. Only Ernie knew what had happened to his partner in Miami, and only Ernie knew what had happened with John. Trish never needed to know about either. There was no reason to frighten her.

“I never should have asked you to marry me.”

Trish merely looked at him. “That's not a reason.”

He didn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable. “I told you why.”

She shook her head and turned away from him. “I still don't understand. I thought everything was good, and there was no reason why we couldn't simply postpone the wedding for a couple of months.”

“I didn't mean to lead you on or hurt you. I guess I thought it would work.”

She spun around and faced him, her eyes narrowed. “It would have worked.”

“And if it hadn't?”

“You weren't even willing to give it a chance!”

He couldn't give it a chance, and he couldn't tell her that. He couldn't tell her what had happened to change his mind or that he still loved her.

“Failure isn't something I strive for,” he finally said, hoping the discussion of the past was over. There were more important things to discuss.

“Nobody does. Honesty must be a priority in a marriage. You haven't been honest with me since I told you about the tour, have you?”

“As honest as I can be,” he answered. Knowing it was the right thing to do, he did what was expected. “We should probably get married.”

She lowered her head, then raised it again, meeting his gaze. “Then I'll be as honest as I can be. I've decided to raise the baby on my own,” she said.

He was surprised, but at the same time, he was ashamed at the relief he felt. All he wanted was to keep her and their baby safe. “If that's what you want.”

“At this point, it is.”

“Am I the only one who knows?” he asked.

“No, Kate does.”

“Kate?” It was just like Trish to go and tell her sister something that had nothing to do with her. Even as adults, the two seemed to live in each other's pocket. There were times it irritated him. Not many, because he honestly liked Kate, but this was definitely one of
those times. “Now why did you go and tell her before telling me?”

Her head snapped up and her eyes blazed with anger. “She's my sister!”

She had kept her voice low, but fury sizzled in it, and he took a small step back. “Okay, okay. I don't know what it is about women that they have to share every little—”

“Shh,” she said, glancing around the hallway. “There's no reason to shout.”

He was losing his temper, something that didn't happen often. But he wasn't angry at her. He was angry at himself. “I'm not shouting,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Kate and I have always shared. You know that, Morgan. You know how close we are. Like twins.”

Born within less than a year of each other. And as different as night and day.

But it wasn't Kate who had him worried. It was what Agatha Clayborne might have to say. Or
do.
There was no telling how Aggie would react, and he wouldn't put it past her to show up at his door with a shotgun when she learned. Hell, it surprised him that he hadn't heard from Kate, as protective as she was of Trish.

“I'm sorry,” he said, realizing he'd forgotten what it was like to be that close to someone. “Of course you told Kate.”

Before he could say anything else, he heard someone in the hallway, and then Hettie appeared. “There you two are,” she said, her smile reminding him of the Cheshire Cat. “I was afraid you'd both left.”

He took a halfhearted look at his watch and noticed that they'd gone over the fifteen minutes he'd allotted
for their little chat. “Consider me gone.” Grabbing his hat and coat from the rack in the hallway, he started for the door.

“I only need a minute of your time,” Hettie called out. “I need to ask—”

“Ask later.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold night. But he turned back quickly, aware that he owed them both an explanation, especially Trish. “I'm already late, and I promised Stu he could spend Christmas Eve with his wife and little boy. I'll see you both later.”

He didn't bother to wait for an answer as he closed the door and hurried to the patrol car he'd parked in the driveway. After climbing into his cruiser, he started it and backed down the long driveway, his thoughts spinning.

How could he have been so foolish to have risked exactly what he had fought to keep from happening? Everything had changed fifteen minutes ago. Even if he told Trish the truth, it wouldn't help. He couldn't offer to marry her and put both a wife and a child at risk.

 

“M
ORE CAKE
, Hettie?” Aggie asked.

“Maybe just a little piece. Morgan will be here soon to take me home.”

“I'll make sure there's a big piece left for him.”

Trish sat with the two women at the kitchen table and listened to the exchange between them, but her mind was busy with the subject of the conversation. She wished Hettie had driven herself out to the farm that afternoon to spend Christmas with them. Trish wasn't ready to face Morgan again, not after telling him the news about the baby the night before.

“What about you, Trish?”

She looked up from the paper napkin that lay in tiny pieces in front of her. “What?”

“Another piece of cake?” Hettie asked.

“No, not for me. I couldn't eat another bite.” She pressed her hand to her stomach and felt a stab of guilt. She still hadn't told Aggie, and she wouldn't until she and Hettie returned from their trip. They would leave the day after New Year's. As soon as they were home again, she and Kate would tell them both their news.

Aggie pushed away from the table, her chair groaning on the linoleum floor. “I was hoping Kate would call.” Glancing at the phone hanging on the wall, she shrugged. “I guess not.”

Trish couldn't agree more. “She said she'd try to call today, but she didn't promise. Something about being on board and not able to call except in an emergency. But they'll be in port on New Year's Eve, so she'll probably call then.”

Hettie's sigh filled the kitchen. “It's hard to believe the wedding was only a week ago.”

Nodding, Trish scooped up the shredded napkin and rose from the table. “I only hope Kate isn't seasick.”

“Or Dusty,” Aggie added, laughing. “Wouldn't it be a hoot if a man who's spent most of his life getting bounced around on the backs of bulls were to get sick on a rocking boat?”

But Trish wasn't worried about Dusty, funny or not. With Kate pregnant, there was no telling how much of her honeymoon cruise she'd be able to enjoy. And that wasn't fair. Kate worked hard at farming and at her catering and tax businesses. She deserved the time off.

Glancing out the curtained window, Trish saw that
evening was settling in. She wasn't looking forward to encountering Morgan. Hettie had been there since early afternoon for their gift exchange, and Trish had managed to avoid seeing him when he'd dropped Hettie off at the farm. Hettie just wouldn't give up hope.

As if she'd summoned him with her thoughts, headlights flashed as a car turned into the drive and parked in front of the house. Thinking quickly, she dumped the napkin in the trash and turned to step into the hall, just as she heard a car door close. She was halfway up the stairs to her room when Hettie called to her that Morgan was at the door.

Ignoring the hint, she hurried to her room where she collapsed on the bed. She knew she couldn't hide for long. Aggie, if not Hettie, would come to fetch her to tell Hettie good-night. But just for the moment, she wanted to catch her breath. To be alone. To
not
think about Morgan or even the baby.

The reprieve lasted for only a few minutes, until she heard footsteps on the stairs outside her room. Scrambling to her feet, she grabbed a hairbrush from the nightstand next to her bed and pulled it through her hair. When the light knock sounded on the door, she was calm and ready to join the others. “I'll be right there,” she called.

The door opened slightly, and Aggie poked her head into the room. “Everything okay?”

Trish pasted on a bright smile. There was no sense worrying Aggie. “Of course. I just wanted to grab—” She looked around the room and spied the present she'd bought and lovingly wrapped months ago for Morgan. Picking it up from the top of her dresser, she held it out to show her aunt, hoping that would be that.

Instead of leaving, Aggie perched on the edge of the bed. “I can only imagine how hard it is for you, seeing it's the holidays and all, and what with Kate getting married and your own plans gone awry. I just want you to know that I'm proud of you.”

Tears seemed to always be just on the surface of late, and it took an effort to keep them from spilling. “I'm okay, Aunt Aggie. Really. It'll get easier. I'll feel better when Kate gets home, I'm sure.”

Aggie got to her feet and laid a hand on Trish's shoulder. “Holidays are a heck of a time to have family away. A Christmas wedding sounded nice, but I don't think any of us gave any thought to them being gone during the time we want them with us the most. Now, you come on downstairs. I think Morgan has something for you, too.”

Surprised that he would bother after everything that had happened, Trish gave a sniff to the tears she'd managed to hold back and followed her aunt down the stairs. In the kitchen, she found Hettie watching Morgan devour a huge piece of Christmas cake.

Looking up when they came into the room, Morgan swallowed, a sheepish smile on his face. “Nobody does this cake like Kate does,” he said before taking another mouthful.

Trish crossed her arms in front of her, then glanced at Hettie and Aggie. “Kate didn't bake it.”

Morgan stopped in midchew and his eyebrows went up.

“Trish did,” Aggie announced.

“With a little help from Aunt Aggie,” Trish added, “and a lot of notes from Kate.”

“Nobody would know,” Morgan replied after finishing the bite. “It's that good.”

Aggie grinned, the lines in her face deepening. “We'll send a piece home with you. If you think you might want it, that is.”

“I was hoping you'd say something like that.”

Trish set the gift for him aside and busied herself at the sink. No one could call her domestic, although everybody seemed to think she looked the part of the perfect little wife. She tried her best. She really did. And Kate had spent an enormous amount of time teaching her the basics of cooking. At least now she could boil water without…well, without burning it and the pan. She would never be as good as her sister, but cooking a decent meal had become much easier.

Behind her, she listened to the conversation between her aunt and their guests. Everyone always felt at home in Aggie's kitchen, whether they were longtime friends or strangers. That's the way it was in the country, her aunt had told Trish and Kate when they moved in after their parents' deaths. That was definitely the way it was at the Claybornes'.

“So are you two ladies packed for your trip?” Morgan was asking.

Hettie laughed. “Packed? Are you joking?”

“You're an organized person,” Morgan pointed out. “I figured your bags were sitting by the door in your apartment, waiting to be loaded into the car.”

Trish heard Aggie's disgusted snort, and she smothered a giggle.

“It's a cruise, for heaven's sake,” Aggie admonished. “What's to pack?”

“No off-ship adventures? No tours of the area when you dock somewhere?”

“We're docking?” Aggie asked.

That had Trish turning around, certain her aunt was joking, but by the look on her face, she knew Aggie wasn't.

“Why, of course!” Hettie cried. “Several places, to be exact.”

BOOK: The Lawman's Little Surprise
9.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Spirits of Ash and Foam by Greg Weisman
Lucca by Jens Christian Grondahl
Ramage & the Renegades by Dudley Pope
Odd Girl In by Jo Whittemore
Murder Most Holy by Paul Doherty
Destined for Time by Stacie Simpson
The Devil's Dust by C.B. Forrest
The Tory Widow by Christine Blevins
The Forgotten Map by Cameron Stelzer
Trickster's Point by William Kent Krueger