The Lawman's Little Surprise (7 page)

He almost smiled as he held out his hand. She put hers in his and let him lead her to where several others were dancing to the slow number the DJ was playing. He turned to face her, slipped his arm around her waist, and it felt so…right. It nearly made her cry, but she gritted her teeth and told herself this was neither the time nor the place to shed tears.

She knew exactly when the other dancers spotted them. Beth Weston, Desperation's veterinarian, waved to her, her smile as friendly as always before she turned to say something to her husband, Michael. “I see Stu made it,” Trish told Morgan, who held her as if she were made of fine crystal. “I'm glad he and Stacy could come.”

“I sent him straight here as soon as I hit the streets. Aggie is right. Desperation could use another deputy, but whether the council will approve hiring another man…” He shrugged.

“It's worth a try though.” She knew he didn't like to talk about his job. She understood most of the reasons
he didn't, but sometimes she wished he would tell her how he felt about things. “I'm sure you'd have Hettie on your side.”

Before he answered, the cell phone in her pocket rang. Taking it out, she checked the number. “It's Kate. I need to let Aunt Aggie know,” she explained, stepping out of his arms.

She barely waited for his nod and flipped open her phone, headed for the table where she knew she'd find her aunt. “Kate?”

“It's me!” her sister greeted her on the other end. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, but you sound kind of fuzzy.”

Kate giggled. “It's just after eight in the morning. We'll be celebrating the new year in Athens tonight. Trish, it's glorious here. I wish you were here with us.”

Trish laughed. “Two's company,” she reminded her sister. When she reached the table where Aggie and Hettie were laughing, Morgan was still behind her.

Hettie looked up when the two of them approached. “Don't like the song?”

Trish shook her head and pointed to the phone at her ear. “It's Kate,” she mouthed and returned to the call. “Why don't you talk to Aggie? She's dying to talk to you. And then you and I can have our turn.”

“Whatever works best for you two,” Kate answered.

Aggie stood and took the phone, moving several feet away. Hettie was watching in the low lights of the room, obviously eager to hear how the Mediterranean cruise was going.

“When you're done talking to Kate, we need to talk,” Morgan said, leaning down, his voice low.

Trish heard Aggie laughing as she wondered what it might be that they needed to talk about. Things were a little better between them. He was trying, but it wasn't enough. She still needed the truth.

Aggie walked toward her, beaming. “Trish is waiting to talk to you,” she told Kate, “so I'd better get off. You two keep having fun, you hear?”

Trish took the phone when Aggie handed it to her and wandered to the spot where Aggie had been. “Hey,” she said into the phone.

“Trish?” Kate asked.

“It's me. It sounds like you and Dusty are having a wonderful time. So where all have you been?”

“No,” Kate said, “that's not why I called. I'm so sorry I couldn't call on Christmas. Did you tell Morgan?”

Turned away from the others, she glanced over her shoulder at the mention of his name. “Yes.”

“And?”

“I—” Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I told him I couldn't marry him just because I'm pregnant.”

“Was he upset?”

“Not about that. And he still refuses to tell me why he called off our wedding.” The tears won out and filled her eyes, spilling over her cheeks. She knew Kate could tell she was crying and she hated that. “I'm sorry,” she said, “I don't mean to—”

“Don't you worry about a few tears,” Kate said, her voice stern but loving. “Tell me what's going on with you. How are you feeling?”

Trish managed to tell her about the trip to the doctor
and how Morgan had arrived and been a part of it. “I was livid,” Trish said, the tears drying.

“I don't blame you. If Dusty had done something like that, I'd have given him what for.”

“Oh, I did,” Trish said, giving a shaky laugh at the memory.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Kate spoke. “Trish, do you love him?”

With Kate, she could be honest. “Yes, fool that I am. But, Kate, I don't know how he feels about me. I know I blindsided him with the news, but he doesn't seem to have any emotional stake in this. That's what scares me. He's been this way for months, and I'm afraid this is the way he'll always be from now on.”

“We'll be home in ten days, and then you and I can sit down and talk about it. Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. And…and you two have fun and don't worry about me,” Trish said, wishing she hadn't dumped on her sister, raining tears on her honeymoon. “I
will
worry, but I'll have fun, too, so don't give it another thought. I'll call you again if I get a chance, but don't bank on it.”

“I won't,” Trish answered, knowing her sister would do what she could. “I'll be fine. Really. Give Dusty a kiss for me, and I'll see you when you get home.”

When the call ended, she made sure her tears had stopped, grateful for the low lights in the room. Hopefully, no one would notice she'd been crying.

 

M
ORGAN WAITED
as patiently as he could while Trish finished the phone call with her sister. They were like two peas in a pod, but he couldn't blame them. Besides being so close in age, they'd been through and survived
the death of their parents. He could only imagine the upheaval in their lives when they packed up what was left of their belongings after the tornado destroyed their home and lives, and moved in with Aggie Clayborne. From what he'd heard from others in town, there were bets on how long the girls would last under the care of an aunt who was well-respected by the community, but considered a bit odd. Women didn't farm alone. Aggie Clayborne did and was successful at it.

“I'm sorry, Morgan,” Trish said as she walked toward him, “but I haven't talked to Kate since she left on her honeymoon.”

“How are she and Dusty doing?”

Trish shook her head, laughing softly. “They're obviously having fun. Not that I expected there was anywhere in the world they wouldn't.”

Nodding, he took her gently by the arm and led her away from what was left of the slowly dwindling crowd. “I doubted for a while that they'd get together.”

“But they did, and all is well.”

“You miss her.”

She nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “Even throughout college we weren't apart. It's strange for her to be gone, so yes, I do miss her.”

Morgan understood. He'd tried denying that he'd missed Trish when she was gone on her book tour, but the minute he saw her in her car a little more than two weeks before, he knew he'd lied to himself.

“What is it you wanted to talk about?” she asked, when they reached a storage room in the back of the old barn.

He opened the door, flipped on the light and waited while she stepped inside the room. He'd rehearsed what
he had to say, knowing he'd stumble over the words if he didn't.

After closing the door behind them, he turned to her. “About what I can do to help.”

“Such as?”

“Medical expenses, for one.”

“I have insurance through the school.”

“Then there are other things. Baby things. Whatever—” The ringing of his phone cut him off. Sighing, he answered.

“Morgan?” Stu said. “There's trouble out at the Rutgerses', and I have two cars of high school kids who think this is the night to see whose car is faster.”

“Stay there,” Morgan said, glancing at Trish. “I'll handle John.” Ending the call, he turned to her. “I have to go. We can discuss this later.”

“That's fine, I'll—”

But he was already out the door, wondering just how drunk John was this time. With red lights flashing, he made it to the Rutgerses' home in only minutes. After knocking on the door, he heard Carol, John's wife, tell him to come in.

He stepped inside, immediately checking out the situation. “What's going on here?” he asked, keeping his voice calm and steady.

John Rutgers nearly fell as he spun around and faced the sheriff.

Carol hurried to keep him from tumbling, and then looked at Morgan. “I had to,” she whispered.

Morgan's heart broke at seeing the streaks of tears on the woman's face. She was still in her nightgown, her hair uncombed, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “It's all right,” he told her, before directing his attention
to the man who had brought all this on. “I see you've been celebrating. Lou's Place?”

“Best place to go when you need to get away,” John answered, his words slurred.

Morgan shook his head, disgusted that no matter how many times he'd tried to help, John couldn't stop. “What have you been up to, John? Besides drinking again. We talked about this, remember?”

He watched as John's hands fisted at his sides. When he pulled away from his wife and tried to stand straight, he weaved back and forth so badly that Morgan went to help hold him up.

“Look at Carol,” Morgan said. “Look at your wife.”

“I see her! I'm not blind, ya know.” But he never looked at her.

Morgan shifted to bear the majority of the man's weight and glanced at Carol. “I know you love her, John, but you're killing her. You're killing yourself. Is that what you want?”

The man turned his head slowly and looked at his wife. “'Course not.” When he tried to smile at her, she put her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I just want to have a little fun, now and then, that's all,” John went on, his voice becoming a whine. “She should understand that.” Raising a hand, he pressed it to her hair. “You know that, don't you, sweetheart?”

Carol nodded, but said nothing.

Morgan wasn't going to let it go. “You might as well know now that I don't intend to go easy on you at your hearing. It has to stop. Now. If you pull this again, I'll make sure the judge knows everything and that you get hard jail time.”

John's head bobbed up and down, and then he began to cry.

Unable to deal with the emotions of a drunk, Morgan adjusted his grip on the man. “Let's get him to bed, Carol.”

It took some effort, but they finally had John in the bedroom, stripped down to his skivvies, and under the covers. “I'm thirsty,” he said, done with his crying.

Morgan looked at Carol, who had turned to him for help. “Would you mind getting him a glass of water, Carol?” Morgan asked. She nodded and silently left the room. When Morgan was sure she was out of earshot, he sat on the edge of the bed. “I want you to think about how serious this is.”

John nodded as his eyelids began to drift closed. He muttered something Morgan couldn't hear, but by then, Carol had returned with the water. “Just leave it on the table there,” Morgan told her, indicating a night table by the bed. “You and I need to talk.”

Thirty minutes later, he was on his way to the station. It took another hour to fill out the report on the incident, and he didn't leave anything out. This time John hadn't brought out his gun, but Morgan wasn't willing to give him another chance.

When the report was written, he drove by the old barn, noting that everyone had left, and then headed for home. All he wanted was some food and a few hours of sleep.

“I see you're home, safe and sound,” Ernie said, when Morgan walked in the door of the Commune.

Morgan shrugged out of his leather jacket and followed Ernie to the kitchen. “John's on another binge. I had to go out there and calm him down again.” Ernie
turned his head to look at him, a question in his eyes, and Morgan answered it. “No trouble this time.”

“There's some supper in the refrigerator. I know you didn't have any before the party.” Ernie sighed and started down the hallway, pushing the swinging door open and holding it until Morgan entered the kitchen. “There should be something that can be done about him.”

“There is,” Morgan said, perching on one of the tall stools at the island counter. “He has a hearing later this month for drunk and disorderly. I can recommend AA or…”

Ernie pulled a covered plate from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave oven. “Jail time?”

“I don't want to do that, but if it happens again, I told him that's what I'd do. And I'd make sure the judge agreed.”

“That settled him down, did it?”

“He started crying. Like a baby. Carol and I put him to bed, and then she and I talked after he'd passed out.”

Grabbing the oven mitt, Ernie pulled the plate from the microwave and set it in front of Morgan. “You never put in the report after he—”

“No,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wish I had. Maybe he could be getting help right now.”

“You were careful tonight?”

Morgan offered him a wry smile. “You've never seen me more careful. But one of these days, John is going to hurt himself. Or somebody else.”

Ernie's only reply was a nod. “I'll leave you to your supper. You know where everything is.”

“Thanks.”

He ate his meal in the silence of the late hour. It had been close to two in the morning when he'd left the station, after filling out all the paperwork required. At least it had taken his mind off his problems. Not that he hadn't given Trish a thought, but each time she crept into his mind, he focused on the report. Now all he wanted to do was finish eating and go to bed.

Twenty minutes later, showered and in bed, he fell asleep immediately, the adrenaline rush from another ordeal with John leaving him exhausted. Dreams came and went, terrifying dreams about Trish and Carol. John with his pistol. And a small child Morgan didn't recognize.