Читать книгу A Baby For Emily - Ginna Gray - Страница 10

Dillon glanced at Emily’s ashen face. She hadn’t spoken one word since they left Bob Larson’s office. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

She sat in his pickup on the opposite side of the bench seat, huddled in a ball of misery against the passenger door, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She stared straight ahead at nothing, her expression blank.

No small wonder, he thought. These past five days she’d received one blow after another.

“Emily? Emily, answer me. Are you okay?” he asked again, a little louder this time.

She started and turned her head, blinking at him. “Wh-what? Oh.” Facing forward again, she replied in an emotionless voice, “Yes. I’m okay.”

“You sure? You’re not feeling any pain or anything, are you? Any nausea?”

This time the look she shot him held even more confusion. “What? No, of course n— Oh. Oh, I see. You’re concerned about the baby.” Her mouth twitched. “Don’t worry. Your niece or nephew is safe. Physically I’m doing fine.”

Dillon ground his teeth, angry that she’d put that interpretation on his concern, but he forced himself to speak gently. “The baby’s well-being is important, but I’m more worried about you. This week has been rough.”

The bitter laugh that burst from her was tinged with hysteria. “Yes. You could say that.”

Dillon parked in the driveway and ushered Emily inside. He watched her shrug out of her coat and hang it in the entry closet then turn without a word and walk into the living room.

When Dillon had shed his own coat and followed he found her in the bay window alcove, staring out the window at the bleak winter landscape. She stood with her arms folded tight across her midriff, as though she feared she might fly apart at any second and was trying to physically hold herself together.

He stopped a few feet behind her. Everything about her telegraphed desolation—the angle of her head, the rigid set of her shoulders, her paleness. She looked fragile and tragic, and absolutely alone.

“Emily, we need to talk.”

“Not now, Dillon. Please.”

“I know you don’t feel like doing this now, but it’s urgent. You have to take stock, get an idea where you stand before you can make a plan.”

Her upper body began to jerk. Lowering her head, she hunched her shoulders and hugged herself tighter, but the convulsive jolts came stronger and faster. A small, choking sound tore from her throat. Then another, and another.

The hair on Dillon’s nape stood on end. “Emily?”

Unable to subdue the sobs any longer, she raised both hands and covered her face, and gave in to the gut-wrenching tears she had been holding back for days.

“Aw, Emily.” In two long strides Dillon closed the space between them, spun her around and snatched her into his arms. “It’s okay. Everything will work out,” he insisted. “You’ll get through this. You’ll see.”

The gruff pep-talk had no effect. Clutching his shirt with both hands, she wept uncontrollably against his chest. The wrenching sobs tore from her, so raw and raspy he knew that they hurt her throat. Her entire body shook with each agonized cry.

Dillon felt so helpless. He longed to banish her pain, to shield her from all the ugliness and betrayal, but he could not. At that moment he came close to hating his brother.

Powerless to do anything except let her grief run its course, he rubbed his hands in slow circles over her back and rocked her from side to side. “That’s right, let it all out. You’ll feel better when you do.”

His words made her cry even more forlornly. The great, wracking sobs seemed to come from the depths of her soul. They tore at Dillon’s heart and made him wince, and he held her closer still, as though doing so would allow her to absorb his strength.

Finally her tears ran dry and her sobbing slowed to watery sniffles and shudders, then to hitching little breaths.

“Oh, Dillon,” she mumbled against his wet shirt. “Wh-what am I going to d-do?”

Before he could answer he heard her sharp intake of breath, and he realized that she’d suddenly become aware of their position. She stiffened and scrambled back several steps, her expression horrified. “I—I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think you reached critical mass. After all that’s happened, a meltdown was probably inevitable. Don’t worry about it,” he said in a gravelly voice. “You’re entitled.”

Running a trembling hand through her hair, Emily pushed the long, auburn mass back until it cascaded over her shoulder, all the while eyeing him warily.

Dillon ground his teeth. Clearly, she did not expect sympathy from him.

“Well, uh…thank you for being so understanding.” Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and her eyelids puffy. Tears glistened on her cheeks and streaked her makeup. The tip of her nose was red and her face was pale and blotchy from crying. Her misery broke Dillon’s heart.

“No problem. And to answer your question, you’re going to get through this one step at a time. And I’m going to help you.

“The first thing you’re going to do is go upstairs and wash your face, maybe take a nap.” Taking her arm, he started leading her toward the stairs in the entry hall. “After that crying jag you probably need one.”

“But you said—”

“I know, but I changed my mind. You’re in no shape to dive into the legalities right now. Just go get some rest. I’ll take a look at Keith’s financial records. When you’re ready, we’ll sit down and go through everything together and figure out where you stand financially.”

Emily made a feeble attempt at a chuckle. “I can tell you that now. I have no money, no insurance settlement, no investments and no income.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it,” he growled. “We’ll figure something out.”

“We?” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned.

Dillon could see her pulling herself together. Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and tipped up that delicate chin.

“Look, Dillon, I appreciate all you’ve done, but this isn’t your problem. It’s mine. There’s no reason why you should be burdened with it. I’ll deal with it by myself.”

“How?”

“I…I’m not sure. But I’ll think of something. My point is there’s no need for you to concern yourself.”

“Really?” he snapped, struggling to contain his impatience. “I can think of several.”

Her chin came up another notch. “Such as?”

“Such as, it’s because of my brother that you’re in this fix.”

“So? You’re not responsible for Keith’s actions.”

“Maybe not legally, but that’s beside the point. You’re still a part of this family. And don’t forget, the baby you’re carrying is a Maguire.”

“All the same, I—”

“It’s no use arguing about it, Emily. I’m going to help.”

His implacable blue gaze bore down on her. She met that laser stare in silent frustration. She wanted to scream. She didn’t want to be around anyone, least of all him.

She felt guilty for the thought, but it was true. Ever since she’d received the news of Keith’s death, Dillon had been there for her, like a rock, offering silent support during the unpleasant meetings with the doctors and the police, making all the funeral arrangements, running interference between her and the gossipmongers. During the past four days he’d talked with her more and in gentler tones than he had in all the years she’d known him. In truth, she didn’t know what she would have done without him these past few days.

Even so, he was still a tough, taciturn man. And he still made her uncomfortable.

Emily sighed. No matter how she felt, the sad truth was, she needed help. She was still reeling and too depressed and bereft to function, much less deal with legal matters on her own. And there was no one else to whom she could turn.

“All right, you win,” she huffed finally.

“Good. Now why don’t you go get some rest?”

She shook her head. “No. I’d rather get this over with. Anyway, I doubt that I could sleep for worrying. I’ll just go up and wash my face. I’ll be right back.”

Dillon watched her climb the curving stairway, his gaze zeroing in on her erect posture and the proud tilt of her head.

A smile tugged at his lips as he pictured the way she’d tipped her chin up at him. The action was typical of Emily.

On the outside she was gracious and soft-spoken, but she had a backbone of tempered steel. He had recognized that about her within minutes of their first meeting, seven years ago.

Emily was the kind of woman, Dillon mused, who in days gone by, would have stepped in without a qualm and taken over running the family farm while her man marched off to war, even if she had to plow the fields herself with a baby on her hip and a rifle slung over her shoulder.

That strength and indomitable spirit was one of the many things he had admired about her from the beginning.

Emily hadn’t known that grief could be so debilitating. Or was it the anger that seethed at her core? Either way, she felt drained. Just climbing the curving stairway took tremendous effort. It was as though every cell in her body were weighted with lead. It didn’t help that she could feel Dillon’s laser-beam stare boring into her back.

In her bedroom she stripped off the cashmere suit she’d worn for her meeting with the attorney. Her panty hose came next. Wearing just her panties and bra, she went into the bathroom. Catching sight of herself in the mirror above the sink Emily groaned. She looked a fright. She had cried away most of her makeup and her mascara had run in streaks over her cheeks, making her look like a red-eyed raccoon.

Twisting her hair into a loose knot at her crown, she secured it with a couple of small combs and creamed away what was left of her ruined makeup, then splashed her face with cold water. As she patted her skin dry she winced at her reflection. She was so pale she looked anemic.

A dusting of powder, a sweep of blush and a quick dab of lipstick provided only marginal improvement, but it would have to do. What did it matter, she thought. The only person who would see her was Dillon, and she wasn’t trying to please him.

She paused and frowned at her reflection, remembering the way he had held her close and comforted her.

Funny. She had always found his size and ruggedness intimidating, but being held against that brawny chest with those strong arms wrapped around her had felt surprisingly good. And safe. As though nothing in the world could harm her in the shelter of Dillon’s embrace.

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose at her reflection. What a fanciful thought. You must still be in shock if you’re starting to think of Dillon as a knight in shining armor.

She returned to the bedroom and donned a pair of casual navy slacks and a cream turtleneck sweater, slipped her feet into a pair of classic loafers and headed downstairs.

When Emily entered the kitchen, she found that Dillon had brewed a pot of coffee. Before taking her to the attorney’s office he had changed into a suit. Now he’d removed his coat and tie and unbuttoned the collar and rolled up the sleeves. He sat at the table with the file folder spread open, scowling as he read. In his right hand he held a steaming mug of coffee.

Dillon looked up and arched one eyebrow as she crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Feeling better?”

She turned and leaned her hips back against the counter and took a sip of coffee. “Not really, but I’ll manage.” She nodded toward the folder. “How’s it going?”

“I was on the phone with my foreman for a while, so I just got started. I’m going to need some paper to write on so I can total everything up as I go.”

Emily pulled a legal pad and some pencils from a drawer and sat down beside him at the table. Immediately her nose was assailed with a mixture of smells—coffee, soap, the clean, woodsy scent of his aftershave, even a hint of starch from his crisp dress shirt. And underlying it all, was that unique masculine scent that was his alone. It was not an unpleasant combination, yet it made her uncomfortable. Breathing in his scent seemed so…so intimate, somehow.

If Dillon was equally aware of her he gave no indication.

Taking the yellow legal pad, he divided it into two columns with a vertical line down the center and scrawled Assets at the top of one side and Liabilities at the top of the other.

“Okay, this first document is a short-term bank loan for ten thousand dollars that he took out just last week,” he said, recording the outstanding balance in the liabilities column.

For the next couple of hours they went through every piece of paper and document in the folder. There were numerous personal loans with various banks around town. Most, according to Bob Larson’s records, were used to pay off Keith’s bookie, but in recent months it appeared that Keith had taken out loans to pay off earlier loans.

“Larson was right about one thing,” Dillon commented tersely. “Keith was operating just one step ahead of disaster. His finances were a juggling act.”

There were at least four credit cards that Emily had known nothing about, all with astronomical balances. An examination of the charges showed he’d purchased several luxury items for a woman—perfumes, jewelry, flowers, a fur—none of which had come to Emily. There were charges for restaurants and nightclubs and tickets to theater productions that she had not attended. In addition, the sailboat was only half paid for and there were the mortgages on the house, the beach house and, most galling of all, on Keith’s little love nest.

When they were done Dillon’s face was grim and Emily felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Dear Lord. It’s worse than I thought.” She stared at the figures on the pad, feeling sick. The liabilities column stretched almost to the bottom of the page, and the total was staggering. The only items listed in the assets column were the house and her car, a three-year-old Cadillac that Keith had been badgering her to trade in on a new one for the last six months. Thank heaven she had resisted.

“Damn,” Dillon spat. “What the hell was he thinking? He made an excellent living but he’d been trying to live like a billionaire.”

Groaning, Emily lowered her face into her hands. “You know Keith. Self-denial was never in his vocabulary.”

“Yeah. We have Mother to thank for that. She spoiled him rotten his whole life. By the time he was in his teens he was sure the world revolved around him. To tell the truth, I was amazed when he had the self-discipline to stick it out through medical school and his internship and become a doctor. If he hadn’t loved medicine so much he would never have done it.”

Unable to sit still any longer, Emily bounded out of the chair and started pacing the kitchen. “There’s only one thing to do. I’ll have to sell the house.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. There must be another way.”

“Really? What else do you suggest? Our savings and investments are gone and there’s not enough in my household account to make the next mortgage payment.”

“What about the clinic? Surely Keith has some money coming from there.”

“A half-month share in the profits maybe, but that’s all. The partnership agreement states that if a partner dies, his share in the clinic is split among the other doctors.”

“I see.” Dillon raked his hand through his hair. “Look, why don’t you let me pay off your creditors and the mortgage.”

She stopped pacing and shot him a horrified look. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t hear of it.”

“Dammit, Emily. I can’t let you give up your home. You love this place.”

“Actually…I don’t.” She smiled wanly at his shocked expression. “Keith’s the one who insisted we buy this house. He wanted something that shouted, ‘I’ve made it.’ I’ve never liked this house nor have I felt truly at home here. It’s too big and too stiff and formal. I wanted something cozier and warmer.”

“I see. The trouble is, though the value of this house has risen a good deal since you bought it, even if you sell for top dollar the profit you’ll make won’t be enough to pay off all of Keith’s creditors.”

“I’ll sell Keith’s Porsche, too. And the sailboat and the beach house. And if I have to, I have some jewelry I can sell.”

“Like hell, you will,” Dillon growled. “Before it comes to that I’ll personally go to every bank that loaned Keith money and pay it back myself, whether you like it or not.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” she snapped back. “It’s my jewelry, and I’ll do with it what I please. You don’t have anything to say about it.”

“Dammit, Emily, I hate the thought of you selling your jewelry.”

“Why? I have no intention of wearing any of it ever again.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

She turned to him with glacial eyes, her face set. “Because your brother gave me every piece.”

Dillon stared at her, his chest suddenly tight. What did that mean? That she didn’t want anything that was in any way connected to Keith? If so, did that include the baby? And him?

The latter would come as no surprise. He even expected it. Especially since she’d never been fond of him anyway. He also looked enough like Keith to be a constant, unwanted reminder of her faithless husband.

She claimed to want the baby, but had she been telling the truth? It made him sick to even think that she might reject the child she carried because she believed it was Keith’s.

No. He refused to think that. Not Emily.

“I see,” he said finally. “All right, then. If that’s how you feel.”

He picked up a document from the file. “This is the insurance policy on the condo. Luckily it will cover the cost of rebuilding. I checked.”

“You can’t be serious. I’m not going to rebuild that place.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have any choice. The covenants in that complex require that you rebuild, and the other owners will insist on it. But look on the bright side. You can probably sell it for a tidy profit.”

“Fine. The sooner the better,” she muttered.

“Also there’s the Lexus that Keith bought for his lady friend. The loan papers on the car are in the file. It was purchased in Keith’s name, which means you can sell it.”

This time Emily answered with a bitter look and continued pacing.

Using a fresh sheet of paper, Dillon did some quick calculations. “If my estimates are right, if you sell everything we talked about, you may have enough to pay off all Keith’s creditors, but just barely. There won’t be much left over.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just as long as I get free of these debts.” She sank back down in the chair and closed her eyes.

“Don’t start feeling too relieved. You still have a major problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and the baby have to live.”

“I know,” she replied wearily. “I’ll just have to get a job.”

“Doing what? You haven’t held a job since you graduated from college and married Keith, and you never finished the work required to get your teacher certification.”

“That’s because Keith insisted that I stay home. He didn’t want a working wife.”

“I know that. I wasn’t criticizing, just stating facts.”

Emily sighed. “At the time Keith claimed that he wanted to spoil me and make up for the ‘pillar-to-post’ existence I had known for most of my life. I came to realize that he thought having a working wife would somehow diminish his status.”

A bitter chuckle escaped her. “Oh, he knew just which buttons to push to get his way. He made me feel, for the first time in my life, that I was cherished and loved. So naturally I complied with his wishes and became the pampered, stay-at-home doctor’s wife that he wanted. What a mistake that was.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dillon muttered. He had told his brother at the time that he was being unfair to Emily. She’d worked hard to become a teacher, putting herself through college with a series of menial jobs, and she deserved the chance to attain her goal. However, Keith, being Keith, had merely laughed and brushed aside his concern, saying that as the wife of a prominent doctor she would have financial security and social standing, and that was much better than being a low-paid, unappreciated teacher.

“Still, regardless of the reasons, you’re not qualified to teach,” Dillon persisted.

“Then I’ll get a job in an office somewhere. I have a college degree. That has to count for something.”

“That’s true. Except you’re going to find that there are few companies that will be willing to hire a pregnant woman.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe. But that’s how it is.”

Emily gritted her teeth and looked away. She knew he was right, but that only made her feel more helpless and angry. “I’ll find something,” she declared stubbornly. “If worst comes to worst, I can always go back to waiting tables.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “You have no business being on your feet all day, hefting heavy trays of food. You have a baby to think of.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you think I know that? I am thinking of the baby. As you pointed out, we both have to eat and have a roof over our heads.”

Frustrated, Dillon ground his teeth and studied her mulish expression. It was clear that he wasn’t going to dissuade her about getting a job. And he knew better than to offer to take care of her, though he could easily afford to do so. She’d probably heave something at his head if he suggested it.

“All right. All right. If you’re determined to do this, after you’ve had a few weeks to adjust and take care of personal business, like finding another place to live and selling this house, then you can come to work for me.”