Читать книгу Their Child?: Lori's Little Secret / Which Child Is Mine? / Having The Best Man's Baby - Christine Rimmer - Страница 17

The story of the twister that brought down the clubhouse on top of three hundred wedding guests made the first page of the Abilene News-Reporter. It also made the Dallas Morning News, though not the front page. Some eager newshound had gotten a great shot of the collapsed clubhouse under a lowering sky, with a bedraggled little knot of drenched wedding guests surveying the ruin. The picture was picked up by the wire services and popped up in papers all over the country. The story—a sound-bitesize version of it—even made it onto CNN and MSNBC.

Sunday afternoon, Dr. Zastrow released Lori into the loving care of her parents. Once she’d hugged her son and let her mother fuss over her for a while, Lori retreated to her room and called the Double T.

Miranda answered and asked her to please wait a moment.

Lori said, “Sure,” and knew, beyond the last fading shadow of a very scary doubt, that Tucker would refuse to talk to her.

Then he picked up the phone. “Lori. Hello.” And she didn’t know which was worse: if he’d refused to talk to her at all, or his voice as it sounded now. Distant. Cool. Dangerously polite. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Better all the time.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Tucker I…um…” Oh, God. How to even begin?

“Yeah, Lori?”

“Well, you know,” she said, her voice wobbly and weak. “We really have to talk.”

“Talk,” he replied, as if mulling over the meaning of the word. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

“I’m home—I mean, at my parents’ house. I was thinking maybe you could come over and—”

He finished for her, “Have it out? Now?”

Have it out? Dread curled through her, burning a guilty path. “Well, yes. We could—”

“No,” he cut her off again. “Not now. We’d better wait.”

She put her hand against her bandaged head. Suddenly, it was aching like a sonofagun again. She dared to ask, “Wait for what?”

“How’s your head? I’ll bet it’s still hurting pretty bad.”

It seemed like a dangerous question, somehow. She started to lie and say no, it was fine. But then she reminded herself of how she would never lie again—not even a little one. “Yes. It still hurts.”

“I thought so. We’d better wait a while.”

“Until?”

“Until you’re feeling better—in fact, I’m thinking you’re going to want to cancel that appointment we had for tomorrow. You remember that appointment, Lori?”

“Of course I do.”

“Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” she said, out loud and clear. “I remember that we had an appointment tomorrow.”

“An appointment to discuss the little matter you’ve known for, oh, eleven years or so that you really should talk to me about. Right?” She pressed her lips together and swallowed convulsively. He prodded, pumping up the volume, “Right?”

“Right,” she said tightly. “Yes. To talk about—”

“Wait. Not now. Later.”

She echoed, miserably, “Later?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Oh, come on, Lori. You’ve waited such a long time to tell me. It’s not going to be any skin off your nose to wait a few more days.”

His words hit home. Squarely. She wanted to crawl in a deep, dark hole and stay there—but she forced herself to argue, “I know Lena already told you, about that night. And I think you have to see that we—”

“I want you feeling good. Strong. When I talk to you.”

“Tucker. Please. I just—”

“Thursday. I’ll call you Thursday. We’ll see how you’re doing then.”

“But I—”

“And in the meantime, I’d like to see Brody. Would that be all right with you?”

“See Brody?” She didn’t know why that surprised her. Of course, he’d want to see Brody.

“Is that a problem for you?” Beneath the fake-cordial tone, his deep voice vibrated with subtle threat.

“No. Not at all.” God. They sounded like a couple getting a divorce and discussing visitation rights. A couple getting a divorce—though they’d never gotten near being married in the first place.

“All right, then,” he said. “I’d like to pick him up at five in the afternoon tomorrow. I’ll have him back to you by nine. Is that acceptable?”

“I…yes. That’s fine.” She had a thousand questions. She hardly knew how to start asking them—and he didn’t seem especially eager to give her any answers. “What will you tell him?”

He made a sound, kind of like a laugh, but with absolutely no humor in it. “As of now, nothing. I want to take it slow, let him get to know me better before I go springing any big surprises on him.”

“Oh. Well. That sounds, um, wise.”

“Thank you,” he said, as if he didn’t mean it in the least. “So I’ll call him—a little later, this evening. I’ll ask him if he wants to come out to the ranch tomorrow, to ride Little Amos, swim, cook hot dogs, play with Fargo…” His voice trailed off.

She thought, sadness squeezing her throat, of that night a little over a week ago, that lovely night when she and Brody had gone to visit him, together.

That night seemed like eons ago now.

“Lori. You with me?”

With him? Not in the least. “I’m here. It’s all fine. Just fine.”

“All right, then. If he says yes to coming on out here tomorrow—” he would, and they both knew it “—I’ll have him ask you. You will agree.”

Irritation made her head throb harder. “I already said it was okay with me.”

“Good. And if he wants you to come, too, you’ll say you don’t feel up to it.”

She didn’t feel up to it. So that wouldn’t be a lie. She leaned back on the bed and shut her eyes. “Yes. All right.”

“If it goes well, tomorrow, I’ll ask him to come Wednesday evening, too. You’ll tell him that you don’t feel up to going Wednesday, either.”

She asked, though she knew she shouldn’t, “What if I do feel up to it Wednesday? What should I say then?”

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

“I’m not going to lie to him.”

He did laugh, then, she was sure of it. A very mean laugh. “That’s a good one. Coming from you.” She opened her mouth to call him hardhearted—and then shut it. The remark had been cruel. But it was also the truth. She’d told a boatload of lies and it would only be lying some more to pretend that she hadn’t.

He said, “Any more objections?”

She lifted her hand and rested it, very carefully, on the bandage that covered her pounding forehead. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“That’s because I am one. I’ll talk to you Thursday.”

“Wait. I…” But it was too late.

He’d already hung up.

Monday, Lena and Dirk were set to leave on the twoweek honeymoon they’d postponed until Lena could be certain that her twin would recover. Lori was still upstairs in bed, with the curtains drawn, when Lena dropped in to tell the family goodbye.

“Mornin’.” Lena poked her head in the bedroom door. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. It’s ten o’clock and it’s too dark in here.” Lena bounced into the room and flung the curtains wide. Lori groaned at the brightness of the harsh morning light. “There, now, isn’t that better?”

“Not particularly.” Lori scooted to a sitting position, squinting her good eye as it adjusted to the brightness. Since the other eye was swollen shut, the morning glare didn’t bother it at all.

Lena dropped to the bed. “How you feelin’, hon?”

“Not so great.”

“We’re off to the airport in an hour. And you’ve got a real shiner there. All purple and swollen up. Not too attractive.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Get over here.” Lena held out her arms.

Lori went into them. “You have a terrific time, okay?” She gave her sister a good, hard hug.

“Oh, I will. Bahama-mama, that’s me. I can’t wait till Dirk sees this itty-bitty thong bathin’ suit I have bought. Oh, my, and the lingerie…I got a trunk full, been buying it for months now. Me and my darlin’ and Victoria’s Secret are going to have ourselves one fine ol’ time.” Lena took her by the shoulders and held her away.

Lori pulled back, met her twin’s bright eyes and thought how much she loved her. “You know…”

“Say it.”

“All these years, I thought you’d be so mad at me, when you found out.”

Lena shrugged. “Well, I probably would have been. Way back when. But now? Honey, it was so long ago. I look back and I don’t feel a thing—well, except sympathy pains. It must have been so terrible for you, on your own and pregnant, keepin’ that secret, having to tell all those lies…”

Lori sat up straighter. “I didn’t have to tell them. I chose to.”

“Well, you were seventeen and—”

Lori put up a hand. “Don’t make excuses for me. I’ve made too many for myself.”

The sisters shared a long look of perfect understanding, then Lena asked, “So what the heck’s going on with Tucker, anyway? Mama said he didn’t come by all day yesterday.”

Lori stiffened. “What did you tell her?”

“Relax. Not a dang thing. For once, I am keeping out of it. I told Mama if she wants to know about you and Tucker, she’d better ask you.”

“You’re the best.”

“I certainly am.”

Lori slumped back among the pillows. “As far as Tucker and me, I don’t know…”

“You should call him today.”

“I already did, yesterday. I tried to tell him I just want to talk about everything now, to get it over with. He wouldn’t listen. He says he wants me feeling good—when he lays into me.”

“Maybe that’s smart—that you wait till you’re feeling a little better, I mean.”

“Oh, Lori. This is bad. I mean, really bad. He’s so mad and he won’t talk to me. It’s awful.”

Lena gave her a chiding look. “Well, hon, you have to admit he’s got a right to be mad.”

“I know he does.”

“You just be patient, now. You’ll work it out.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know…”

Lori stewed all day about whether or not she should be downstairs to greet Tucker when he showed up to get Brody. In the end, she decided against it. She looked truly terrible—her forehead, on the left side, beneath the bandage, was all black and blue, her left eye big and purple as a ripe plum. She just didn’t want him to see her that way. She knew he’d feel sorry for her.

She could do without his pity, thank you very much.

He showed up at five on the dot and whisked their son off in the back seat of a big black Cadillac. She stood in her bedroom window and watched the car drive away.

Four hours later, she was waiting in the same spot, watching for their return, with the window open a crack. At two minutes after nine, the big car slid up to the curb and Brody jumped out before the chauffeur could get around and open the door for him.

“It’s all right, Jesse,” she heard Brody say to the driver. “I like to open doors for myself.” The driver went back around the front of the car as Brody leaned in the still-open rear door. “Bye, Tucker. See you Wednesday…”

So, then. Wednesday was a go.

She knew it was a good thing, for her son to finally get to know his natural father. She was glad for that.

She honestly was.

Everything else, though?

What an awful, ugly mess.

Tuesday, Enid took her to see Doctor Zastrow. The doctor removed her bandages, prodded the healing gash at her temple and told her things were looking good. As he bandaged her back up—a much smaller bandage than before—she joked that he must be blind, considering that the top half of her face on the left side bore a startling resemblance to an eggplant.

He told her what she already knew: the swelling would go down, the stitches would be absorbed, the scar would heal and the bruises would fade. “Give it time. And if in six months you’re not happy with that scar, a little minor plastic surgery will have you looking as beautiful as ever.” She realized he was right on the verge of flirting with her.

She broke eye contact. And not because he seemed like the kind of man who flirted as a matter of course—though he definitely did. No. She looked away because of Tucker. If she was going to do any flirting, she wanted it to be with him. Which, considering the way things stood between them, was right next-door to pitiful.

On the way back to the house, Enid daintily tried to find out what had happened between her daughter and Tucker.

“Lori, hon, your father and I have been wondering—”

Lori cut her off at the pass. “Is this about Tucker, Mama?”

Enid nervously clenched and unclenched her slim hands on the steering wheel. “Well, sweetie, he did save your life and he seemed so attentive and then—”

“Not now, Mom. I can’t talk about it now.”

Enid didn’t press her further. Lori was grateful for that.

Wednesday, she decided she was through hiding in her room. When Tucker arrived for Brody, she answered the door herself.

His face, all ready with a smile of greeting, went blank at the sight of her. “Lori.”

“Hello, Tucker.”

“That eye looks pretty bad.”

She drew herself up. “It’s better than it was. In fact, I’m feeling pretty good. By tomorrow, I’ll be ready for that long talk we need to have.”

“We’ll see—Brody here?”

“You know he is.” She stepped back so he could enter as Brody pounded down the stairs.

“Hey, Tucker!”

The look on Tucker’s face at the sight of his son made her heart squeeze up tight in her chest. “Hey, bud. There you are. Let’s get the heck out of here.” He turned and headed down the front steps.

“Okay!” Brody flew by her, close on Tucker’s heels. Halfway down the walk, he paused to look back at her. “Mom? You could go with us, if you want…”

Tucker stopped in midstride and turned to face her again, his eyes flat, giving her nothing.

She beamed a thousand-watt smile at her son. “Uh. No. I’ll stay home tonight. You have a great time.”

Brody ran back and hugged her. “Love you, Mom…”

She was careful, not to hold him too tight. “Love you, too…”

His arms dropped away and he was off again, racing down the steps and along the walk, yanking open the rear door of the big black car and sliding inside.

Lori stepped back into the house and quickly shut the door. She was simply unable, at that moment, to watch the gleaming Cadillac drive away from her carrying her child.

She turned from the shut door to see her parents standing together near the foot of the stairs wearing twin expressions of sad bewilderment.

In their loving, confused faces she saw her secret reflected. She saw what the secret had done to her family, how it had ripped right through the fabric of it, tearing a ragged hole of hurt and misunderstanding every bit as wide as the one that yawned now between her and the father of her child.

Her dad and mom—and Lena—they were her people. And she had deserted them, left them behind. She’d made a new life for herself without them in it.

Because she was a coward unwilling to face the consequences of the huge mistakes that she had made.

No more, she thought, the words as loud and final as gunshots inside her head. No more secrets and no more lies.

She lifted her head high. “Mama, make a fresh pot of coffee. You and me and Daddy have to have a little talk.”