by Kaki Warner
Shit. Kids, too? Could this get any worse? An hour ago, she’d felt she didn’t know enough about Richard. Now she was learning too much. “That must have been a shock,” she said in a neutral tone.
“It was. But I was happy about it. It’s weird, but in a way, I saw it as a chance to make up for failing my little brother.”
“Was Emery happy about it, too?”
“I thought she was. When I said we should get married right away, she was all for it. Neither of us had much money, so we had a civil ceremony at City Hall. Didn’t even tell our families until it was a done deal.” He fell silent for a moment. “I like kids. They’re cute and funny and so damn innocent it can break your heart. And the more I thought about being a dad, the more I liked the idea. I even started googling cribs and car seats and how to set up a college account.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot.”
It sounded pretty responsible to KD. And sweet. And not surprising. Richard had a strong protective streak.
“In early May,” he went on, “Emery got a job offer. A good one. On the East Coast, starting right after graduation. She wanted to take it. I asked how she planned to manage a cross-country move and a new job with the baby due in the fall. She got defensive, said she’d figure it out, and since I wasn’t getting any good offers, she needed to take this one. A real ball-buster. We had some nasty arguments about it. In the middle of one of the worst, my father called to tell me to come home, Kenny had overdosed and was in the hospital.”
God, it really can get worse. KD didn’t want to hear more. Yet if he was willing to tell her, she should be willing to listen.
“The EMTs had given him a Narcan injection,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. “It pulled him out of the overdose, but he was still a mess. I tried to get him to go to rehab again. He wasn’t interested. I told my parents to commit him. They wouldn’t do it.” He shook his head and sighed. “It was bad, KD. Totally FUBAR. As bad as it gets. Emery calling me every hour, yelling at me to come home, she didn’t want to make all these decisions alone, and my folks insisting I stay with them and help my brother. I felt like I was drowning. A pissed-off, pregnant wife, a drugged-out brother, desperate parents, no job, no money, no prospects. I was so messed up, I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you enlisted,” KD guessed. She knew more than one soldier who had opted for the disciplined predictability of the military over the mayhem they’d left behind.
“I had to. I needed the enlistment bonus, and a regular paycheck, and any spousal health benefits we could get.”
“What did your parents and Emery say?”
“My folks were pissed. Thought I was bailing on Kenny. Which I was. But I was tired of fighting about it, so I left and went back to school. They still haven’t forgiven me. Emery hated it, of course, but didn’t stick around to fight about it. When I got back to our apartment, I found a note saying she’d accepted the job, had had an abortion, and for me to go to fuck myself.”
An abortion? KD had seen it coming but was still shocked. “You were the baby’s father. The doctor didn’t notify you before the procedure?”
“She had emptied out our account, paid cash, and used a false name.”
Oh my God. “What did you do?”
“What could I do? I filed divorce papers and went to basic. Kenny died of an overdose a month later. I haven’t seen or heard from Emery since, and don’t ever want to.” He shook his head, as if still unable to fit all that misery into his mind. Then he looked over at her with an attempt at a smile. “So there you have it. All my dark secrets. I hope telling you wasn’t a mistake.”
“Never. I’m just sad you went through all that. I don’t know how you can even talk about it.” KD doubted she could have. She could still barely talk about Daddy and what it meant to have him gone from her life.
They made the turn at Gunther and headed down the road leading to the ranch. Their private time was running out. Yet KD felt there was more they needed to talk about. Mostly—and selfishly, she admitted to herself—how this awful family tragedy had impacted Richard. Would he ever consider marrying again? Having kids? Could he allow himself to trust after such a terrible betrayal? But most important . . . did she and Richard have any chance of a future together? Of course, right now they weren’t ready to make any commitments. But if they were never going to be able to, she wanted to know now.
“So . . . to answer your question,” Richard said after a moment. “Yeah, I have regrets. Emery was a bad chapter in a sorry story. We weren’t ready for marriage. We definitely weren’t good for each other. I regret marrying her, not divorcing her. As for Kenny, I was mad at him for a long time. Now I only see the waste of it. I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough. With addicts, it never is. It’s up to them to get better, not you. Maybe someday, my parents will accept that and forgive me. Maybe not. But my deepest regret is the abortion. I regret that a lot. I always will.”
She heard the bewilderment in his voice, saw the pain in his eyes, and it brought tears to her own.
“That was my kid, KD. A son. I was supposed to protect and nurture him. Now he’s dead, and I don’t know if he’s buried somewhere, or was used for spare parts, or stem cell research, or just thrown out with the trash. It’s not right. It’ll never be right.” He let go a ragged breath. It sounded to KD that it carried with it all the sadness in his heart and the turmoil in his mind. “He was an innocent. He deserved better.”
“You deserved better, too,” KD told him, gripping his hand tight. Blinking against tears, she tipped her forehead against his shoulder, needing to touch him, hoping he could feel the sympathy she couldn’t express. “I’m so sorry, Richard.”
“People say since it’s a woman’s body,” he went on, his voice taking on that hard edge, “she has the right to do with it whatever she wants. I get that. And in certain cases, like incest or rape, abortion might be the merciful option. But it wasn’t just her body anymore. It was my son’s, too. Killing your own baby as a form of birth control? Or just because it’s inconvenient to let it live? That’s what I can’t get past. I don’t know if I ever will.”
KD felt a chill, wondering if there was a message for her in his words: I won’t marry again. I won’t risk having kids. So don’t expect that of me.
A well of fury rose within her. She despised Emery for bringing such pain to this decent man, and in the process, maybe ruining KD’s chance to build a life with him. She wanted to shout and cry out in protest. I did nothing wrong! Yet in her heart, KD knew she’d probably end up paying for Emery’s choices.
Up until that moment, she had avoided thinking about abortions since she had never been faced with that decision. Mama had wisely put her daughters on birth control when they reached high school. Apparently, Joss had forgotten how to take a pill, but she’d never considered abortion. Instead, she and Grady had worked out their problems and were now happily married and disgustingly devoted to their beautiful baby.
As for KD . . . with only one ovary and a damaged uterus, she had a less than 50 percent chance of ever getting pregnant. She hadn’t yet come to terms with what that loss might mean in the future. Did she want kids? Would she be a good mother? After hearing what Richard had gone through, she now had a new perspective and was even more confused. All she knew for certain was if she were ever lucky enough to get pregnant, she would definitely carry the baby to full term.
“Still want me to meet the family?” Before she could answer, Richard added, “I know I’ve dumped a lot on you all at once, KD. It’s got to make a difference in the way you see me. So if you want me to bail, I can get out here. No strings.”
Why did he keep trying to run away from her? Or was he running from the commitment? Either way, KD wasn’t ready to give up on him. Or them. Forcing a smile, she lifted their clasped hands and kissed his knuckles. “No, I don’t want you to bail. If anything, I admi
re you more.”
Richard looked like he didn’t entirely believe that, but before he could say anything, the GPS lady announced that they had reached their destination.
* * *
* * *
Slowing to a stop, Richard glanced past the cattle guard down the long graveled drive leading to a two-story white stone house. The gate was open. Hanging off a timber crossbar above it was a black metal sign that read whitcomb four star ranch in tall laser-cut letters. “Do I turn here?”
KD released his hand and looked around. “We’re here already?”
“Time flies . . .”
“Yes, this is it.” When he started to turn in, she grabbed his forearm. “No matter what happens, Richard, I’ve got your back.”
“You expecting trouble?”
“You’re my man. Remember that.”
“You’re scaring me, babe.”
Hearing him call her babe told her everything was all right. They could deal with the rest later. Laughing, she said, “I’m preparing you. So listen up. Standard rules of conduct: open doors for ladies, and stand when they enter the room. If Mama’s around, no PDA, spitting, smoking, or use of profanity. Also, no burping or farting at the table, and chew with your mouth closed.”
“In other words, I’m not in the army anymore.”
“Exactly. Oh, and most important, call Mama ma’am or Mrs. Whitcomb until she tells you otherwise. Which may be never. Dalton still hasn’t crossed that barrier and he’s her favorite next to Raney, but only because she’s pregnant.”
Sounded ominous. But Richard saw the laughter in her caramel brown eyes and felt a sense of relief. After spewing out all the sleazy details of his wrecked marriage and shattered family, he had been prepared for questions, doubts, withdrawal. That KD had done none of those things only reinforced his feelings for her. Made them stronger. Made him stronger. And as they pulled into the drive that led to the imposing ranch house, he felt re-energized, hopeful again, and ready to take on the world.
Even if that world included a sharp-eyed mother standing guard on the front porch, teeth bared in a welcoming smile that would make any sane man shiver.
CHAPTER 13
As they pulled in behind a slightly worn sheriff’s cruiser blocking the driveway along the side of the house, Richard noticed an older man in a uniform standing with Mrs. Whitcomb on the porch.
“This can’t be good,” KD muttered.
“Why?”
“That’s Sheriff Ford’s car. Wonder why he’s here.”
Richard felt a twinge of concern, too. Surely Mrs. Whitcomb wasn’t so upset he was sleeping with her daughter that she’d called in the law.
“Hey, Mama,” KD called, stepping out of the car. “Why’s the sheriff here? Is everything’s okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured them as Richard got out, pulled their bags from the backseat, and headed up the porch steps. “Lewis just dropped by for dinner.”
“Lewis?”
“Sheriff Ford. Hello, Richard,” Mrs. Whitcomb added over her daughter’s shoulder as she drew KD in for a hug. “Welcome to Four Star.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Despite KD’s innuendoes and warnings, it looked to Richard like a loving mother-daughter homecoming. A lot better than what he got when he went home.
“KD, you remember Sheriff Ford, don’t you?” Mrs. Whitcomb turned to the older man, who had a seamed face, a strong build, and the look of authority in his sharp gray eyes.
“I do. Nice to see you again, Sheriff.” Reaching back, she pulled Richard to her side. “This is Richard Murdock, the CID warrant officer who investigated the incident in Afghanistan. I’m sure Mama told you all about it.”
“Pleased to meet you, Richard.” The strength in the older man’s handshake let Richard know the sheriff might be twice his age, but he wasn’t an old man. Richard hoped the lawman wasn’t there in an official capacity.
Behind them, the front door opened and a younger version of Mrs. Whitcomb, wearing a skirt and an overlarge blouse, came onto the porch, followed by a linebacker in a western shirt, with green eyes and dark hair. Richard guessed from KD’s earlier descriptions they were Dalton and Raney Cardwell, the Iraq War vet and KD’s pregnant sister.
Another round of introductions and more big hugs. Richard wondered what kind of welcome KD would have gotten had she been gone an entire month, rather than a week.
Then all eyes focused on him. The new guy. The one sleeping with the youngest of the four Whitcomb stars. Yet the introductions were surprisingly friendly, although not quite warm enough to hide the hard stare by the vet and the sister’s narrow-eyed appraisal.
Richard didn’t mind. He was accustomed to people being wary around him.
The mother, though, was a bit more restrained about it. The word elegant came to mind. It was obvious where the sisters got their beauty. Even though she was showing some years, Mrs. Whitcomb was a fine-looking woman.
“Y’all come in out of this heat,” Mrs. Whitcomb said, leading the five of them through the entry into a room big enough to house two cars, and where more introductions awaited.
Motioning two other men forward, Mrs. Whitcomb introduced their head wrangler, Alejandro, a stocky Hispanic wearing a silver belt buckle the size of Richard’s palm, and an older lanky white guy named Glenn Hicks, the ranch foreman. Both offered nods but no handshake. Neither spoke.
Earlier, KD had explained to Richard that the ranch foreman and the head wrangler took their evening meals and Sunday midday meal with the family at the main house. It was a common practice on most big ranches, and Mama wouldn’t be outdone. Since this was Saturday, everyone would be on hand. KD had added that after having the two men around for so many years, they were considered part of the family anyway. Which probably accounted for the cool reception they gave Richard now. They were obviously loyal to the family and wary of strangers, which might come in handy if Khalil showed up.
Altogether, an intimidating group. But no worse than Richard’s boot camp sergeants.
Since supper was waiting, they moved directly into a fancy dining room, dominated by a table that was at least sixteen feet long and loaded with silver and china. Richard wondered if this Saturday night display of finery was for his benefit, or was meant as a subtle reminder that he was reaching way above his pay grade. He had expected the family to be comfortably well off, but it appeared the Whitcombs were a lot more than comfortable. Another assumption shot down.
The meal was just as elaborate—green salad, fruit salad, roasted chicken, carrots, green beans, rice, gravy, and dinner rolls, prepared and served by two Hispanic women who were introduced as las esposas, Rita Santiago and Maria Morales, wives of the two married ranch hands. And outstanding cooks.
In case this was some sort of test, Richard minded his manners, careful not to tip over his crystal goblet or drop any of the sterling silver tableware on the thick patterned carpet. He wasn’t a complete hick.
Yet despite the formality—which he began to think was nothing more than old-fashioned, over-the-top Texas hospitality—Richard liked the Whitcombs. And before the baked chicken went around the table for the second time, he felt they were warming up to him, too. The fact that KD often rested her hand on his thigh under the linen tablecloth definitely added to that warm sense of acceptance.
Then the interrogation began.
“Tell us about yourself, Richard,” Mrs. Whitcomb ordered with a smile during the lull between dinner and dessert.
Richard stuck to the basics, answering their questions but omitting the stuff he’d told KD earlier, or any reference to both of them leaving the army. He’d leave that to her. He explained how they met, what Washington state was like, what he did in the army, where he grew up, and so on. The usual questions any family might ask. Questions he might ask in an attempt to put the person he was questioning at
ease.
When the sheriff wasn’t staring at Mrs. Whitcomb, he silently watched Richard. Richard wondered if he was taking mental notes. Neither of the ranch workers spoke during the meal, although Richard occasionally found Alejandro studying him with speculation in his dark eyes.
“KD said the hearing was canceled,” Dalton Cardwell said. “Any idea why?”
Richard explained that new evidence had been found that convinced counsel for the army not to go forward. “He said it was classified and couldn’t say what it was. Just that KD was off the hook.”
“Since it’s now classified,” KD added, “y’all will have to sign nondisclosures. I’ll give you the forms later. And there was help from another area, too.” KD gave her mother a pointed look. “The Senate Armed Services Committee. Apparently, Senator Tomlinson called the CID commander at Central Command and convinced him that a hearing wouldn’t be in the army’s best interest. How he even found out about it, or knew who to call, is odd, don’t you think, Mama?”
Mrs. Whitcomb smiled. “Roy Bob always was a crafty one. And a talker. But he thought the world of your father. Made quite a bit of money off his investment advice, too. Would anyone care for more chicken?”
Now who’s being crafty? Richard almost laughed, but a pinch from KD stopped him in time.
The conversation moved on to other topics—how KD’s final doctor appointments had gone, how the Cardwells’ house was coming along, what cutting horse show was coming up next, and when the technicians would be by to check the cryotanks in the bovine artificial insemination lab. Glad to have the attention shift away from him, Richard was finally able to sit back and enjoy KD’s tender attentions to his thigh.
As soon as the meal ended, Hicks and Alejandro left. The sheriff gave a last, longing glance at Mrs. Whitcomb, then left, too. As the door closed behind him, Mrs. Whitcomb proposed that the family—“and Richard, too, of course”—retire to the veranda, which KD whispered was what Mama called the unscreened back porch.
