Читать книгу Do You Take This Maverick? - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 8

Chapter One

Almost a month had gone by since the disastrous night of the wedding, and Levi still didn’t know exactly what had happened. What he did know was that he wanted his wife back.

He missed her.

Missed the baby.

Missed being a married man more than he had ever thought possible.

In one all-too-quick swoop his orderly world had fallen into a state of formless chaos, and he absolutely hated it. He felt directionless. When he and Claire had been together, his life had had purpose, he’d had goals. Now he was just blindly going from one end of the day to the other. He still showed up for work at the furniture store every morning, but he lacked his usual energy, feeling lost and so alone that he literally ached.

Without Claire, absolutely nothing seemed to make any sense to him anymore.

Initially, as he had walked back to his truck right after Claire had thrown him out, his own anger at what he felt was her uncalled-for reaction to his late arrival continued to grow—along with his confusion. Why had she blown a gasket? After all, he’d just been playing poker with some of the guys he’d met at the wedding, not playing around with some little flirt.

He knew lots of men who took any opportunity to cheat on their wives, claiming that marriage hemmed them in, and that they needed something besides the “same old piece of stale cake” to get their adrenaline flowing.

But he wasn’t like that. And he certainly didn’t feel that way about his marriage.

The moment that he had first laid eyes on Claire in that cute little sundress she’d been wearing the day they met, peering into the show window of the furniture store where he worked, he had fallen for her like the proverbial ton of bricks. He’d even taken the initiative and gone outside the store to tell her that the set she was looking at was on sale. It really wasn’t. He’d made that up just to have an excuse to talk to her.

Had she actually wanted to buy that set, he would have had to come up with the difference out of his own pocket, but he was so taken with her, he would have done it and gladly. The way he saw it, it would have been more than worth it to him.

From that day forward, Claire Strickland had always been the only girl for him. He’d loved her so much, he’d been willing to wait until she graduated from college before they got married. In fact, he’d insisted on it. First the degree, then the ring. Because it was best for her, and he didn’t want to be the reason she had dropped out of college. From the first moment he met her, it had always been about what was best for her. He felt that she brought out the best in him.

And now he had lost her...and he wasn’t even sure why.

He could still see that look on her face as she’d pushed him out of the room. She’d been so angry at him, and he hadn’t done anything to warrant that degree of fury. One of the men in the game had actually bet and lost the house he was living in. Now that was stupid.

What would have been her reaction if he’d done something like that?

Trying to be optimistic, Levi had hoped that whatever had gotten her angry to this degree would blow over once they got back home.

But when they did get back home—she’d had her grandmother drive her and Bekka home while he’d driven himself—he’d found that his belongings had all been thrown out on the lawn in front of their apartment.

This, in addition to having thrown her wedding ring at him, made the message clear.

It was over.

Except that he didn’t want it to be.

Desperate, thinking that maybe she needed a little bit of time to come around, he gave Claire her space. By definition, that required his staying out of her way, so he’d bedded down in the storeroom at the furniture store. He alternated between that and spending the night in his truck. It was August so at least he didn’t have to worry about cold weather. But that was small consolation in the face of what was going on in his life.

With each passing day, he kept hoping that Claire would relent and take him back. But she never came to the store, never answered the phone when he called, even though he called her at least three times a day, if not more. For all intents and purposes, Claire was acting as if he didn’t exist.

And it was killing him.

Frustrated, Levi decided that enough was enough and went to the apartment where they’d lived for the past two years for a face-to-face confrontation with Claire.

But as he drove up, he saw that there were no lights on in the window to greet him, and he had a very uneasy feeling as he unlocked the front door.

Holding his breath, praying he was wrong, Levi cautiously walked in.

“Claire? Claire, it’s me. Levi. Your husband,” he added uncertainly. Nothing but silence answered him. “Claire,” he called out, “where are you?”

Still nothing. Nothing but the hollow echo of his own voice.

Growing progressively more agitated as well as aggravated, Levi went from room to small room, looking for his wife, for his baby. Finding neither.

“Come on, Claire, this isn’t funny anymore. Where are you?”

Nervous now, he debated calling Claire’s parents. He didn’t want to worry them, but then on the other hand, there might be a chance that they knew where their daughter and granddaughter were.

They might even be staying with her parents, for that matter.

He took out his cell phone and was all set to press the appropriate numbers on the keypad, but then he paused, thinking. Maybe calling her parents wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Claire’s parents, Peter and Donna Strickland, had initially been very hesitant about their daughter getting involved with someone who was several years older than she was and who didn’t have a college education. It had taken him a bit of doing to win them over.

But after her parents saw how much he really loved their youngest daughter, how he’d treated her as if she were made out of pure spun gold, they came around and gave their blessings. The older couple, who had been going strong for the past thirty years, had one of those rare, really happy marriages and according to Peter Strickland, they saw no reason why Claire and he couldn’t have one, too.

If he called them, asking after Claire, then her parents would realize that they were having marital problems. He had a feeling that Claire wouldn’t tell her parents what was going on. Because if she did, it was as good as admitting that their initial concerns about her getting married had been right. That he wasn’t good enough for her. And even though she might actually believe that, he knew Claire well enough to know that she wouldn’t readily admit that fact to her parents.

Who did that leave? he thought as he wandered around the empty apartment.

There were her two older sisters, Hadley and Tessa, but they were both professional career women who lived and worked in Bozeman, Montana, too. If Claire called either one of them, asking to be taken in, that would be as good as admitting failure, and she wouldn’t do that. There was just the slightest bit of competitiveness among the sisters—at least as far as Claire was concerned.

No, she wouldn’t call either one of her sisters, either. She would have rather died than allow her sisters to know that her marriage was in jeopardy.

But she had to call somebody, Levi reasoned. Claire couldn’t opt to go it alone. She had the baby to think of.

The answer suddenly came to him. Of course. Claire would have turned to her grandparents for emotional support.

Her grandmother, Melba, was a lively, full-steam-ahead woman who had raised four children, including Claire’s father, and had still managed to be a businesswoman. She and her husband, Gene, ran the Strickland Boarding House, where he and Claire had stayed when they’d attended the wedding that had ultimately torn them apart.

Claire admired her grandmother, so it was only natural that she would turn to the older woman. And, as he recalled, the crusty Gene Strickland really doted on his granddaughter and her baby girl, too.

Levi was by nature a private person. He had never gone to anyone with his hat in his hand before, pleading his case, but then, he’d never been in this sort of a situation before, either. He wanted his wife and his daughter back in the worst way. Getting them back meant more to him than his pride, even though the latter was a difficult thing for him to swallow.

But he’d do it. To get Claire back into his life, he’d do whatever was necessary.

Levi slowly looked around the apartment. Claire’s clothes were gone. The closets were empty on her side.

He knew that since Claire was gone, he could stay here again. The familiar surroundings were infinitely more comfortable than bedding down in the storeroom or utilizing the flatbed of his truck.

But staying here wasn’t going to get him any closer to Claire. He needed to go into work every day—taking any more time off was out of the question since the store was introducing a new line of furniture and he was needed to handle whatever problems might come up. That meant that in his off hours, he needed to maintain close proximity to Claire. So he needed to stay somewhere close by to where she was staying.

And that, he concluded, would most likely have to be at the boarding house. There’d been a couple of vacancies there last month when they were there for that damn wedding.

And even if there hadn’t been, her grandfather was the type to find a way to make room for his granddaughter and his great-granddaughter even if it meant that he had to go sleep in his car. Gene Strickland would have thought nothing of it if doing so meant helping out Claire.

He needed to go see her grandparents, Levi decided. Her grandmother wasn’t exactly a fan of his—the woman had made no bones about telling him that she thought Claire was too young to get married the first time she met him. But he did get along with Gene. If he could win the man over to his side in this, he’d have a fighting chance of winning Claire back, he reasoned.

Taking one last long look around, Levi closed and locked the front door behind him—fervently hoping that it wasn’t for the last time.

* * *

How had she gone from feeling like a fairy-tale princess to being Cinderella before the fairy godmother had come into the picture in such a short amount of time?

Claire asked herself that question for the umpteenth time since she had come to her grandparents, asking if she could move into the boarding house until she could get on her feet again.

She could remember the way her grandmother had looked at her that day. Melba Strickland had never been what could be called a sentimental woman by any stretch of the imagination. But the woman was fair and she was family, which was what Claire felt she needed at a time like this.

At the time, her grandfather, a somewhat crusty bear of a man, had asked her, “What’s wrong with your place?”

That was where she had broken down and cried. “I don’t have a place anymore, Grandpa. I’ve left Levi.”

“Left him?” Taking the fussing Bekka into his own arms, Gene cooed a few syllables at the baby, calming her down, and then looked at his granddaughter incredulously. “Don’t you just mean that you’ve had a lovers’ spat?”

Claire shook her head, unable to speak for a moment. When she finally could, she showed the two her bare left ring finger and said, “No, not a lovers’ spat, Grandpa. Levi and I are separated.” She took a ragged breath, telling herself that saying the words didn’t hurt—but it did. She felt as if a jagged knife had just ripped through her heart. “We’re getting divorced.”

“Now hold on there, that’s a big word, honey,” Gene had told her. “Do you know what it means?”

Melba had frowned at her husband, annoyed. “Of course she knows what it means.” And then she turned toward her granddaughter. “What happened, Claire? Did he disrespect you?” Her expression suddenly darkened. “He didn’t lay a hand on you, did he? Because if he did, your grandfather is going to kill him.”

Claire had struggled to keep her sobs from surfacing. “No, he didn’t lay a hand on me, Grandmother.”

“Then what happened? Why are you divorcing him?” Melba had demanded in her no-nonsense tone.

But Claire just shook her head, waving away the question. She had no intentions of reiterating the incident. She knew she’d break down before she even got to the middle of the story.

“It doesn’t matter what happened. We’re getting divorced. It’s over,” she told her grandparents with finality, her voice catching at the end.

For a moment she thought she was going to burst into sobs, but she managed to get herself under control at the last second.

Melba shot her husband a knowing look that all but shouted, “I told you so.”

“I knew you were too young to get married.” Although it was a declaration, there had been no triumph in Melba’s voice. “You haven’t had a chance to live yet. After graduating college, you’re supposed to sample life a little. Travel. Do things, not tie yourself down with a marriage and a baby.” She looked at her granddaughter knowingly. “Neither one of you was ready for that, especially not you.”

“Melba,” Gene warned, giving her a look that told her to keep her piece.

As headstrong and independent as ever, Melba was not about to listen. Hands on her hips, the diminutive woman turned on her husband. “Don’t Melba me, Gene. She wasn’t ready.”

The steely older woman looked at her granddaughter, then, after a moment, she enfolded the girl in her arms. Melba’s intentions were obviously good, but it still made for a rather awkward moment.

“Oh, Claire,” Melba said with a sigh, “you wound up setting yourself up. Marriage isn’t some magical, happily-ever-after state. At best it’s an ongoing work in progress.”

“I’ll say,” Gene chuckled, his chest moving up and down with the deep rumble. It managed to entertain Bekka, who in turn gurgled her approval. “The first hundred years are the hardest, honey,” he told his granddaughter with a twinkle in his eye. “After that it gets easier. But you have to invest the time.”

Claire had sniffled then, doing her best not to cry. Doing her best to face the rest of her life stoically. “That’s all water under the bridge, Grandpa. I threw Levi out.” That had been two days ago. “It’s over.”

Melba’s dark eyebrows drew together in a puzzled single line. “If you threw Levi out, what are you doing here?”

Claire shook her head. “Well, it’s his apartment. I can’t stay there now. Everywhere I look—the kitchen, the closet, our bedroom—I can see him. It’s just too hard for me to take.”

Gene had glanced over toward his wife as if he knew that Melba was obviously going to say something that would echo the voice of reason—and be utterly practical. But Claire didn’t need practical. What she needed—rather desperately, if the look in her eyes was any gauge—was understanding.

In order to forestall his wife and whatever it was that she was going to say, Gene quickly spoke up, trying to stop whatever words were going to come out of Melba’s mouth.

“Claire-bear,” he said, addressing his granddaughter by the nickname he’d given her when she was about a month old, “You can stay here as long as you like. As it so happens, we’ve got a couple of vacancies, and it’s been a long time since your grandmother and I have heard the sound of little running feet.”

“Bekka is only eight months old, Grandpa. She doesn’t even walk yet, much less run,” Claire reminded her grandfather.

What her daughter did do, almost all night long, was fuss and cry. Another reason that she felt so worn out, hemmed in and trapped, Claire thought, struggling not to be resentful.

Her hostile feelings were redirected toward her husband. If he had been there to share in the responsibility, if he would have taken his turn walking the floor with the baby, then she wouldn’t have felt as exhausted and out of sorts as she did.

“But she will,” Gene was telling her. “She will and when she does, we’ll be there to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself, won’t we, Mel?” he said, turning toward his wife.

“Sure. And the boarding house will just run itself,” Melba commented sarcastically.

Gene shook his head as he looked at his granddaughter. “Don’t mind your grandmother. She always sees the downside of things. Me, I see the upside.” He winked at Claire. “That’s why our marriage works.”

“That’s why your grandfather is a cockeyed optimist,” Melba corrected.

For the sake of peace, Gene ignored his wife’s comment. Instead, he said to Claire, “Like I said, you can stay here as long as you like.” He turned toward the staircase, still holding Bekka in his arms. “Come on, we’ll get you and the princess here settled in.”

“I’ll pay for the room, Grandmother,” Claire had said, looking over her shoulder at Melba.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Gene informed her. “Family doesn’t pay.”

“But family pitches in,” Melba had interjected. “We’ll find something for you to do here at the boarding house, Claire.”

“Anything,” Claire had offered.

“How’s your cooking?” Melba asked her. “I need someone to pick up the slack when Gina is busy,” she elaborated, referring to the cook she’d recently hired. “I’m giving having someone else handling the cooking a try. I’ve already got a lot to keep me busy.”

“Anything but that,” Claire had amended almost sheepishly. “I’m afraid I still haven’t gotten the hang of cooking.” And then she brightened. “But I can make beds,” she volunteered.

“This is a boarding house, Claire, not a bed-and-breakfast. People here make their own beds,” Melba informed her matter-of-factly.

“Don’t worry,” Gene had said, putting one arm around his granddaughter’s shoulders as he held his great-granddaughter against him with the other, “We’ll come up with something for you to do until you find your way.”

Claire had sighed then, leaning into him as she had done on so many occasions when she had been a little girl, growing up.

“I hope so, Grandpa,” Claire said, doing her best to sound cheerful. “I really hope so.”