Читать книгу A Baby For Emily - Ginna Gray - Страница 8

She’s hanging on by a thread.

Dillon Maguire ground his teeth. He stood alone in the bay window alcove, a little apart from the others, his intense gaze fixed on his sister-in-law.

Sitting on one of the twin living room sofas flanking the fireplace with her hands folded in her lap, Emily Collins Maguire stared into the middle distance at nothing. For the most part she seemed oblivious to the other mourners crowded into her posh, northwest Houston home. Whenever someone approached her, she raised stricken eyes and murmured a few words, even attempted a watery smile, but as soon as the person moved away she withdrew again into her own private hell.

Dammit, it was barbaric to put her through this, Dillon silently raged. And for what? To honor a man who, in dying, had revealed himself to be without honor?

Dillon glanced around at the other people milling through the impressive house. The fierceness of his gaze caused several of those nearby to regard him with alarm and retreat a few paces.

Just look at them, he thought with disgust. Look at them! Swilling wine and devouring the buffet meal. They huddled together in little groups, chatting among themselves, even laughing discreetly, all the while casting sidelong glances at the widow and whispering behind their hands.

Some were neighbors and friends. A few were family, but most of these people had been Keith’s colleagues at St. John’s General Hospital. Did they see so much death and human agony that they were inured to Emily’s pain? To the humiliation she was suffering?

Oh sure, the doctors and nurses and other hospital staff had all been shocked by the unexpected death of one of their own, and no doubt Dr. Keith Wesley Maguire would be missed. However, Dillon suspected that a lot of these people had come to the funeral, and now the wake, not so much to show respect or to grieve, but out of a sick desire to see how the widow was holding up.

And, of course, to rehash and relish this juicy scandal.

Keith himself had often laughed about what a hotbed of gossip St. John’s was. And it wasn’t every day, after all, that one of the medical community’s most esteemed oncologists died in bed with his mistress.

Though the firemen had managed to put out the blaze before it reached Keith and his lover, the pair had died in their sleep of asphyxiation, wrapped in each other’s arms, naked. Later it had been revealed that the mortgage on the apartment was in Keith’s name.

Dillon’s gaze went back to Emily, and his mouth tightened. On the surface she appeared to be hanging in there, but she was pale as bleached flour. And so tense and fragile she looked as though she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. Like brittle glass.

No small wonder.

That Emily had received the most joyous news of her life only hours earlier had made Keith’s death doubly devastating. In the space of just a few hours she had gone from euphoria to the depths of despair.

Dillon could not even imagine how she must feel. His own grief was a crushing, hollow ache in his chest, as though someone had cut out his heart with a dull knife. He didn’t know which was worse—the pain of losing his brother, or the anger that threatened to consume him.

A tiny muscle rippled in Dillon’s cheek as his jaw clenched tighter. Damn you, Keith. Damn you! How could you do this to her?

His heart pounded against his ribs, but it was only when the rattle of china drew his gaze downward that he realized he was shaking with fury. He stared at the cup, dancing in its saucer, the quivering, shiny surface of the coffee that he hadn’t touched, surprised that he still held it.

“You’re Keith’s brother, aren’t you?”

Dillon looked up from placing the cup on the grand piano and found himself facing a slender man in his late thirties. His face was vaguely familiar. An instant later Dillon recognized him as one of the partners in the medical group where Keith had practiced.

The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Dr. Garrett Conn, one of Keith’s partners. We met once, several years ago, but you probably don’t remember me. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”

Shaking the doctor’s hand, Dillon murmured the expected thanks, but that was all. The man had kind eyes and there was compassion in his voice and expression, but Dillon remained wary. If Dr. Conn was hoping to get the sordid details from him he was barking up the wrong tree.

“Your brother was an excellent physician. Our practice won’t be the same without him. He’ll be sorely missed.” Dr. Conn folded his mouth into a thin line and shook his head. “Such a waste.”

He paused, as though waiting for a response, but Dillon merely fixed him with a level stare. After a moment the doctor went on. “I suppose, being as you’re Keith’s older brother, you’ll be looking after Emily now?”

Dillon’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

A wry smile twisted the other man’s mouth. “Keith always said you were an intimidating bastard. Relax. I’m not trying to pump you for information, if that’s what you think. Your brother’s affairs don’t interest me. I leave that sort of tittle-tattle to others,” he said with a nod toward a group of people on the other side of the room. “I approached you because Emily is my patient, and I’m worried about her.”

The statement had no effect on Dillon’s stern expression. “Emily’s doctor is Frank Young,” he challenged. He knew that because the whole family went to Dr. Young.

“Yes, Frank is the G.P. in our practice. My specialty is gynecology and obstetrics.”

Dillon tensed. He shot a sharp glance at Emily, then swung back to Dr. Conn. “Is there a problem with the baby?”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Yes. Keith told me.”

“I see. Actually, that’s a relief. I wasn’t sure that he and Emily had shared the news with anyone. Now at least I don’t have to worry about betraying doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Is there a problem?”

“It’s too soon to tell. The in vitro was performed only last week and the pregnancy confirmed three days ago—just hours before Keith died in that fire. But I have to tell you, the shock of his death, particularly given the circumstances, has put an enormous strain on Emily, and that’s never good.”

“Are you saying she could lose the baby?”

“After emotional trauma like that it’s certainly possible. I talked to her earlier, and she says she’s okay, but I’m concerned. She’s strung tighter than a fiddle string and too pale by far. Has she mentioned having any problems?”

“No. At least, not to me.” But then, he’d be the last person Emily would turn to for help, especially with something as personal as that. She avoided him whenever she could. “Actually, I don’t think she’s told anyone she’s pregnant. I doubt she even knows that Keith told me.”

Keith had called him from his car phone that night. God, had it been only seventy-two hours ago? His brother had said that he was on the way to the hospital to see a patient, but in reality he’d been heading to meet up with his mistress.

Typical, Dillon thought with disgust. Instead of sharing the joy of impending parenthood with his wife, his faithless brother had chosen to celebrate by tearing up the sheets with his latest girlfriend.

“Mmm.” Dr. Conn studied Emily from across the room. “It would be a good idea if someone stayed with her, at least for the next few days until she gets over the initial shock.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll see to it.”

“Good, good. Tell her if she experiences so much as a twinge to call me, day or night.” He gave Dillon a sympathetic smile. “Look, I just want you to know that despite his faults, I truly liked your brother. He was a good doctor and a good friend. I know this is a terrible time for you and your family. If there’s anything I can do to help—anything at all—just let me know.”

“If you really mean that, how about nudging your friends toward the door,” Dillon said, nodding toward the clutch of people on the other side of the room. “Emily’s had a rough couple of days. She needs to rest.” And she needs a chance to lick her wounds in private, he added silently.

Dr. Conn chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When the doctor walked away Dillon’s gaze zeroed in on Emily again, a new worry niggling at him. Why hadn’t she told anyone about the baby? He’d been waiting for her to mention her condition ever since the night of Keith’s death, but she hadn’t said a word.

He studied her delicate profile, her blank expression. What are you feeling? he wondered. Anger? Hurt? Humiliation? Grief?

Hell, she had to be feeling all those things and more, he decided. And who could blame her? Well…who besides Adele, at any rate? His mother always blamed others for Keith’s mistakes and shortcomings.

But what about the new life inside her? How did Emily feel about the baby now? She had wanted a child so badly, and had gone to extreme lengths to conceive. However, now Keith was gone and she’d had her blinders ripped off in the cruelest way possible. Now that she’d learned just what a louse of a husband he’d truly been, did she regret the pregnancy?

Oh, hell, did she want to end it?

Worse, if she had the baby would she resent him or her and reject the child?

As his mother rejected him?

Reluctantly, Dillon’s gaze switched to his mother. Adele Maguire and Dillon’s sister Charlotte, and her husband, Roger Boyd, sat on the sofa opposite the one Emily occupied. Clinging to her daughter for support, Adele wailed and wept bitterly and ignored Emily.

Dillon’s mouth curled. As far as Adele was concerned, no one, not even Keith’s widow, could possibly be experiencing the pain and loss that she felt over his death.

The prospect of a grandchild—particularly Keith’s child—might mitigate Adele’s grief somewhat, Dillon mused. More importantly, it might even make her more accepting of the daughter-in-law she had merely tolerated for the past seven years. Emily had to know that. Still, she kept silent. Why?

Dillon was still pondering that when Dr. Conn and the other partners and their wives approached Emily and his family to offer final condolences and bid them goodbye. Noting with relief that others were beginning to collect their coats as well, Dillon went to see them out.

For what seemed like hours, he stood in the foyer, shaking hands and accepting condolences and perfunctory offers of help. By the time he closed the door behind the last person his patience was almost at an end.

“Well, that’s it,” he announced, returning to the living room. “All the wagging tongues have finally left.”

His sister’s two children, Leslie and Roy, had retreated to the den at the back of the house to watch television. In the dining room Ila Mae, Emily’s housekeeper, had already started putting away the leftover food and gathering up the stray dishes scattered around.

Adele dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and shot him an annoyed look. “Must you always be so crass?”

Dillon shrugged. “Ignoring the truth doesn’t change it. I’ve never heard so much malicious whispering in one place before. But I suppose you have to expect that when someone gets caught practically in the act.”

Emily made a small, distressed sound and turned her face away, and Dillon immediately winced.

“Sorry, Emily,” he murmured.

He could have kicked himself. Dammit, man, what were you thinking? Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he was a thoughtless clod.

Adele sniffed and dabbed her eyes again. “I don’t know why everyone is being so unkind and judgmental. It should be obvious that if my son turned to another woman then he wasn’t getting the affection and emotional support he needed at home.”

“Dammit to hell!” Dillon roared.

Charlotte closed her eyes and groaned.

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s the truth,” Adele insisted with an indignant lift of her chin.

“The hell it is!” Towering over his mother, Dillon jabbed the air with his forefinger, just inches from her nose. “Don’t you dare try to blame this on Emily.”

“No, Dillon, please,” Emily murmured. “It…it doesn’t matter. Really.”

“It matters,” he insisted, never taking his furious gaze off of Adele. “All of his life, no matter what underhanded thing Keith did, no matter what mistakes he made, no matter who he hurt, you made excuses for him. It was always someone else’s fault, never your precious Keith’s. Well, if you think I’m going to let you get away with it this time, think again.”

“How dare you sa—!”

“Oh, I dare. Your precious son cheated on his wife because he was spoiled rotten, thanks to your coddling. He grew up thinking the world revolved around him and that he should have whatever he wanted when he wanted it, regardless of who he hurt. Face it, professionally, he may have been a respected doctor, but on a personal level he was selfish, self-centered and incapable of fidelity.”

“How can you be so cruel?” Adele wailed. “That you, of all people, would talk about Keith that way. He was your brother!”

“And I loved him. But, dammit, I wasn’t blind to his faults.”

He took off his suit coat, dropped it onto a chair, then stripped off his tie and tossed it on top. By the time he had unfastened the top three buttons on his shirt Adele looked as though she’d swallowed a lemon. Paying her no mind, he exhaled a long sigh and muttered a heartfelt, “Thank God. For the past eight hours that thing has felt like a noose around my neck.”

“You’d be accustomed to wearing proper attire if you did so more often,” his mother said with a disdainful sniff.

“I hate wearing suits and ties.”

Just as he hated being cooped up in a fancy office. Over the years, as his company had grown and prospered, he’d had to endure both more and more—especially when he met with bankers or attorneys or clients. Thankfully, he was still able to spend much of his time on the construction sites in a hard hat and work clothes.

Adele dabbed at her eyes again. “I don’t know why I try. You’ll never be anything but a common workman.”

Though she meant it as an insult, Dillon wasn’t offended. In his opinion there was nothing demeaning about good, honest labor. He liked working with his hands as well as his mind, and he was proud of what he’d accomplished.

Besides, he wondered how many “common workmen” his mother knew who owned a multimillion-dollar construction company? One they’d built from the ground up on their own?

He kept quiet, however. Defending himself to her was pointless. No matter what he said or did, she would find fault.

Adele loved Charlotte well enough, but Keith had always been her favorite, her “golden boy” as she was fond of calling him. In her eyes, Keith could do no wrong…and Dillon could do no right. It was a fact of life that he had accepted long ago.

Emily barely registered the exchange between Dillon and Adele. Her anger and hurt had turned to a deep, dark feeling that hung around her shoulders like a lead cape, weighing her down so much she could barely function. She longed to climb into bed and curl up into a ball of misery beneath the covers and shut out the world. The last thing she wanted right now was to be around people, especially Keith’s family.

She started when Dillon sank down on the sofa next to her. He’d left the space of a cushion between them, but just having him that close made her feel crowded. Uneasy.

Dillon always had that effect on her. He towered a foot over her puny five feet four inches, but it was more than that. There were those massive shoulders and bulging biceps, those big, callused hands. His brawny chest tapered down to a washboard abdomen and narrow hips that any male model would envy. Dillon was such a physical man and so overwhelmingly masculine he almost gave off an aura. Whenever she was around him she felt it hitting her in waves.

Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he heaved a long sigh. “Thank heaven that’s over.”

Emily gripped her hands together tighter and briefly closed her eyes, perilously close to tears. Dear Lord, he can’t be half as thankful as I am, she thought. Now if they would all just go home, as well, and leave her alone.

Word of Keith’s infidelity and the sordid details of his death had spread like wildfire. She had been aware of the pitying looks and whispered comments that had swirled around her all day. It had taken every ounce of pride and strength that she possessed just to get through the funeral and the wake with her head held high, but the strain had taken its toll. She felt shaky and fragile, as though every nerve ending in her body was frayed and threatening to give way.

If she was going to fall apart, she wanted to do so in private, not in front of Keith’s family. Especially not in front of Dillon.

From the beginning he had not liked her, nor had he approved of her marrying Keith. He was always so somber and remote, so in control. She was fairly certain he would disapprove of even the hint of hysteria on her part. Besides, she had no intention of allowing him to see her that vulnerable.

“There was a nice turnout for the service,” Charlotte offered lamely to fill the uncomfortable silence that had stretched out.

Adele sniffed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t there be? Everyone loved Keith. He was a wonderful man and a prominent, respected physician. He was also handsome, bright and utterly charming.

“And the most wonderful son any mother could ask for,” she added in a quavery voice as fresh tears welled in her eyes. With a choked sob, she buried her face in her hands again and gave in to another storm of weeping.

He was also a womanizing cheat, Emily added silently, but she kept the thought to herself. There was no point in angering Adele. In her mother-in-law’s eyes, her younger son had been perfect, and nothing anyone could say would convince her otherwise.

Dillon’s mouth twisted as he stared pityingly at his mother, but he said nothing.

Patting Adele’s heaving shoulders, Charlotte rocked her back and forth and murmured words of comfort.

“Excuse me, Miz Maguire.” Ila Mae appeared in the arched doorway leading into the foyer, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m finished. The food is stored away, kitchen is cleaned and the dishes are washing in the machine. Is there anything else you’d like me to do before I leave?”

“No. Thank you, Ila Mae.”

“I hate to leave you here in this big house all alone. You sure you don’t want me to stay the night? My mister would understand.”

“No, really. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine.”

When Ila Mae had gone Charlotte looked at Dillon again over the top of their mother’s head. “I think Roger and I had better take Mother home now, too. I’ll give her a sedative and put her to bed.”

“Good idea,” Dillon agreed.

“I’ll go round up the kids,” Roger volunteered and headed for the den.

Emily barely resisted the urge to sigh with relief. Thank heavens.

“Yes. Yes, take me home,” Adele cried. “There’s nothing left for me here. My wonderful son is gone.”

Emily pressed her lips together. She knew that Adele’s grief was genuine, but her mother-in-law’s constant lauding of Keith was like pouring salt into an open wound. Emily just wanted them all to go.

Finally everyone was bundled into their winter coats and gloves, but Adele’s mouth began to quiver piteously again as they prepared to leave. She cast a tragic look around the foyer as though she expected never to return, and whimpered, “I still can’t believe he’s gone. That I’ll never see my son again.”

She turned an accusing look on Dillon. “If I had to lose a son it should have been you. Not my Keith.”

“Mother!”

“Adele!” Charlotte and Emily gasped in unison.

“Oh, Mother, how could you? That’s a horrible thing to say.”

Adele looked away, her mouth pinched so tight the tiny creases around her lips radiated like a starburst. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. That’s how I feel.”

Emily was so shocked that for the first time in three days she forgot about her own pain. She stared at her mother-in-law and wondered how she could utter such a heartless statement, no matter how grief-stricken. Especially to one of her own children.

“She didn’t mean it, Dillon,” Charlotte insisted, laying her hand on her brother’s arm. “She’s just upset, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it, sis.” He shrugged off the cruel comment as though it meant no more to him than an offhand remark from a stranger.

Dillon bid Roger good-night, kissed and hugged Charlotte and the kids, and, to Emily’s surprise, dutifully kissed Adele’s cheek. She turned her head away at the last instant, barely allowing his lips to graze her skin, and even though it was Dillon, Emily felt terrible for him.

When at last they were gone she closed the door and turned to him with a sympathetic look. “Charlotte is right, you know. She really didn’t mean it.”

“She meant it.”

“Oh, no. You mustn’t think that. That was just grief talking. Adele loves you.”

Dillon gave her an under-the-brow look. “C’mon, Emily. You’ve been in this family for seven years. You know better than that.”

He turned and headed back into the living room. Emily hurried after him.

“I know that Adele isn’t always nice to you—”

“Now there’s an understatement.”

“And I know that Keith was her favorite,” she continued. “I’m not condoning that, mind you. I don’t think it’s right for a parent to favor one child over another. But just because Adele did that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, too. Mothers love their children, no matter what.”

Resuming his seat, Dillon stretched his legs out in front of him, rested his head against the sofa back and looked at her from beneath half-closed eyes. “Yeah, that’s what they say. But it doesn’t always work out that way. As far back as I can remember she’s never been able to stomach the sight of me.”

“But—”

“Look, it’s okay. That’s just the way it is. I accepted it a long time ago.”

She opened her mouth to argue more, then shut it again. What was she doing? This was Dillon. The man was self-sufficient, remote and tough as old shoe leather. He didn’t need anyone. Apparently not even his own mother. If Adele’s hateful comments didn’t bother him, why should she be concerned? She had enough pain of her own to deal with. She had neither the will nor the energy to worry about other people’s problems.

Wearily, Emily resumed her seat, this time on the sofa across from the one on which Dillon sat. She turned her head and fixed her gaze on the blaze crackling in the fireplace without really seeing it. She felt numb and empty inside, as though her body were just a hollow, aching shell.

How could she have been so blind? Seven years. For seven years she had believed that she had the perfect life—a storybook marriage to a handsome, charming doctor who adored her, a lovely home, an active social life, friends, financial security—all the things she’d dreamed of during her lonely childhood. Now she knew that it had all been an illusion.

Unconsciously, her hand splayed over her flat belly. The only thing that had been missing from hers and Keith’s perfect life had been a baby, and he had even managed to give her that in the end.

Was that the problem? Had she been so focused on getting pregnant these past few years that she had lost sight of her husband’s needs and desires? Had she neglected him? Had he been unhappy with her?

No. No, she didn’t believe that. She and Keith had gotten along beautifully. In seven years they’d rarely had a cross word, for heaven’s sake. And Keith had wanted this baby as much as she had. Like her, he had been jubilant when Dr. Conn had telephoned them with the news on Monday afternoon.

So why had he turned to another woman? When had it started?

“Are you all right?”

Emily jumped and her head whipped around. She experienced a little shock when her gaze met Dillon’s. She had forgotten he was there.

“I…yes, I’m all right.”

“Maybe you ought to turn in. You’ve had a rough couple of days, and tomorrow isn’t going to be a piece of cake either.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You meet with your attorney to settle the estate and see where you stand financially. Remember?”

“Oh, yes. That. I’d forgotten.”

Emily eyed Dillon’s relaxed posture. She had expected him to leave with the others, or at least soon after. Instead he looked as though he had settled in for a long stay.

“You’re probably right.”

She climbed to her feet, but when Dillon failed to do the same she paused. “Uh, thank you for your help, with the funeral arrangements and all. I really appreciate everything you’ve done these past couple of days.” She began edging toward the door, hoping he’d take the hint. Dillon just continued to watch her from beneath those hooded eyes.

“No thanks necessary.”

“Yes, well…thanks anyway.”

She edged another few inches closer to the door, but still he didn’t move. Emily shifted from one foot to the other and clasped and unclasped her hands. Finally she decided that the best way to deal with Dillon was head-on.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but as you said, I probably ought to try to get some sleep.”

“Good idea.”

Relief poured through her. With a nod, she turned and started for the foyer again, but his next words brought her up short.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the guest room across the hall from you.”

She whirled around. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. So I’ll be staying here for a few days. I put my bag in the guest room earlier.”

“No, really, that’s not necessary. If I’d wanted company I would’ve let Ila Mae spend the night. I really do prefer to be alone.”

“That may be, but I’m staying.”

Emily’s nerves began to jump. As her anxiety grew she forgot all about caution. “Look, Dillon, you don’t understand. I don’t want you here. In case it hasn’t occurred to you, at the moment I’m not feeling all that well-disposed toward any male with the name Maguire.”

Unfolding himself from his slouched position, he slowly rose to his feet. He towered over her, his face carved in granite. “I’m not Keith, Emily,” he said in a voice that cut like honed steel.

Belatedly, she realized that butting heads with Dillon perhaps wasn’t the wisest course of action. He was the strong, silent type, but when aroused he had a formidable temper.

In the best of times he intimidated her, and at the moment she was feeling too shaky and beaten down to even attempt to do battle. “Look, I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. But it’s unnecessary. I’m fine.”

“How about the baby? Is he fine?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and gaped at him, and once again her hand went automatically to her stomach. “How did you—?”

“Keith called me from his car a couple of hours before he died.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped. She sank down onto the arm of a nearby chair and cupped her hand over her forehead. She should have known. Though they had been as opposite in personality as any two men could be, Keith and Dillon had always been close.

“I see,” she said finally. “Well, if it will put your mind at ease, the baby is fine. So you see, there’s really no reason for anyone to stay.”

“Give it up, Emily. I’m not leaving.”

“Why are you doing this?” she snapped in frustration. “You don’t even like me.”

For an interminable time he simply stared at her. Then he tipped his head toward the stairway in the foyer. “Go to bed, Emily. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. With a sigh, she turned and headed for the stairs. She simply didn’t have the strength to do battle with him right now.

Dillon remained where he was and watched her go. When she was out of sight he walked over to the drinks cart and poured himself two fingers of Jack Daniels from the crystal decanter. He tossed back half the drink in one gulp, then refilled the glass and wandered over to the window.

He gazed past his reflection into the gloomy night. Sometime since they’d left the cemetery a Texas “blue norther” had blown in, turning the weather nasty. Wind whipped the bare trees into a frenzy and sleet clicked against the window panes. Dillon sipped his drink, his face somber, Emily’s last words ringing in his head.

You don’t even like me.

He snorted. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she believed that. In a way, by his actions these past seven years—avoiding her whenever he could, keeping his distance during family gatherings—he had made it appear that way.

Dillon turned away from the window and ambled over to the arched doorway. He leaned a shoulder against the jamb and looked up the stairway in the direction of Emily’s bedroom. How would she react, he wondered, if she knew the truth—that all these years, since before his brother had swept her off her feet, he had been in love with her.

And that the baby she carried was not Keith’s, as she believed. It was his.