Morning Comes Softly

by Debbie Macomber

  The house was dark when he pulled into the yard. He glanced at his watch, surprised to realize it was nearly midnight. Not wanting to disturb the kids, he moved through the kitchen without turning on the lights. Just beyond the kitchen, he removed his boots and slipped silently down the hallway.

  He opened the bedroom door and saw Mary, under the window, silhouetted in the moonlight in his bed. In seconds his clothes came off, tossed in several directions. He’d just peeled off his underwear when Mary bolted upright and reached for the lamp. The room flooded with harsh light.

  “Travis?”

  “It’s me,” he said, squinting against the light. He held his shorts in front of him, hoping to hide the evidence of his desire.

  Mary tossed aside the sheets and leaped out of bed as if he’d announced he’d placed a snake in the sheets. Her hands were digging into her hips and she glared at him like a woman scorned. “Just where the hell have you been?”

  “Ah…” He turned away from her and slipped back into his shorts. Things didn’t look as promising as he’d hoped they’d be.

  “Answer me!” she flared with enough righteous indignation to sink a battleship.

  Travis could see he was going to be on the losing end of any argument they had tonight. “Why don’t we discuss it in the morning, darlin’?”

  “We’ll discuss it right now.”

  “Mary, please…”

  “Is there anything you have to say for yourself?”

  “Yes,” he muttered, sinking onto the edge of the mattress. “At least you didn’t move the bed this time.”

  Sixteen

  Mary couldn’t recall a time she’d been more outraged. Her hands and legs trembled with the power of it, like a race car engine revved before the start of the Indy 500. If Travis made one more wisecrack about her moving the furniture, she was going to punch him. How dare he come toddling to bed, hot for a tumble, when he didn’t have the common decency to tell her where he’d spent the last six hours!

  “Is that beer I smell?” she flared, disgusted all the more. So he’d been carousing with his friends in some tavern, probably looking for a willing woman.

  “Mary, for Pete’s sake, one beer. You make it sound like a federal case. Okay, I had a beer with the guys, shoot me if you want.”

  “So you went off for a night with the boys. Two can play this game, fella.” She fell back into bed with enough force to cause the mattress to buckle. Positioning herself on her side away from him, she jerked the blankets so hard that they pulled free from the foot of the bed.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Travis demanded. She ignored him, reached for the lamp, and turned off the switch. The room went dark. And still.

  “Mary?” Travis coaxed softly in the quiet.

  “I’m free to disappear any time I damn well please. Have girls night out. Tilly and I can drive into the city, view a couple of male strippers. No need to mention it to you until after the fact.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t.”

  “Want to try and stop me?” She’d enjoy the challenge.

  The mattress heaved again as Travis shifted his weight onto the bed. He tugged at the blankets with such force that they both were left with their feet bare. “Don’t try it, Mary. I won’t have you making a fool of me.”

  “That comment, Travis Thompson, isn’t worth a response.”

  Mary didn’t know how long it took her to fall asleep, but the next thing she knew the phone was ringing. Travis mumbled something obscene under his breath and literally stumbled out of bed. Being so close to the edge of the mattress, he nearly fell onto the floor. He caught himself in time, then staggered forward a couple of steps before righting himself. He swore loudly when he stubbed his toe and did an interesting jig on his way out the door.

  Mary didn’t hear the telephone conversation, which was just as well since she was exhausted. Her eyes burned and she wondered if she’d gotten more than a few minutes’ sleep all night.

  The next thing she knew Travis was back in their bedroom, dressing in the dark. She waited for him to say something, anything, then realized he had no intention of doing so. Apparently he preferred that matters between them remain as they were, strained and pressure-filled.

  Mary waited a few minutes, wondering what she should do, if anything. She could hear the cupboards opening and closing several times, then she heard the back door close. He was doing it again. Sneaking away like a cat burglar, without telling her where he was headed or when he planned to return. She waited five minutes or more, then couldn’t stand it any longer.

  Reaching for her housecoat and stuffing her feet into fuzzy slippers, Mary followed her errant husband. Moonlight splashed across the yard as she moved onto the porch steps. Frantically she searched the area for signs of Travis, thinking she might be too late, but his pickup was parked where it generally was. The lights in the barn told her he was probably saddling Mad Max.

  She returned to the house long enough to grab her coat and was halfway through the yard when Travis appeared, leading the gelding out of the barn. Mad Max didn’t look any more pleased to have his sleep disrupted than Mary did.

  A pair of saddlebags were flung over Travis’s shoulder, and she noticed he was dressed for winter. Apparently he didn’t notice Mary.

  “Where exactly are you going?” she demanded.

  Travis ignored her.

  Mary’s heart went still. The anger and fury vanished under the weight of her pain. The wind was cold and cutting, but she barely felt them. “Travis,” she pleaded, “don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” He lifted the stirrups to adjust the rear cinch while Mad Max nervously shifted his hind legs. It was impossible to see Travis’s face, but there was no mistaking his grim tone.

  “Leave again.”

  Travis placed the saddlebags onto the gelding’s back. “I don’t have any choice.”

  Mary brushed the hair from her face and held it back with her hands pressed against her temples.

  “Mary, this is men’s business. It doesn’t concern you. I’m sorry you’re taking such offense. I explained it to you when we first married, so you don’t have any right getting all upset about it now.”

  “Explained what?”

  “Men’s work and women’s work. This is men’s work. The line’s there, Mary, it always has been and always will be.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, that line disappeared a long time ago. The rain washed it away. The children’s footsteps wiped it out.” The wind and cold stung her face, but she ignored them. She was too proud to plead with him again. “I’d hoped I’d proved to you that lines weren’t necessary between us.”

  “Mary, I can’t waste time talking about this now. There’ll be plenty of that later. I have to go.” He hoisted himself into the saddle. The leather creaked, and Mad Max shuffled backward a few steps as Travis adjusted his weight. He hesitated, then said in obvious concession, “I don’t know where I’ll be. I’d tell you if I knew.”

  She looked away. “So you want to maintain those lines of yours?”

  “Mary, for the love of heaven—”

  “Do you?”

  He sighed with exasperation. “Yes,” he shouted, pulling back on the bridle as Mad Max danced about.

  “Okay,” she said, stiffening her shoulders. She stepped back several steps, then smiled up at him ever so sweetly. “I have a few lines of my own, Travis, and one of them runs down the middle of our bed.”

  Travis reared back on the gelding. “Tarnation, woman, I’ve got wolf problems, I don’t need trouble with you, too.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, cowboy, you asked for this. I won’t cross your precious line again. I won’t ask for a single explanation. If you want to stay out half the night, drink beer, and carouse with your bachelor friends, that’s your prerogative.” She forced herself to sound serene and composed. “Just don’t try and cross my line, either. Deal?”

  She smiled smugly at Travis’s one-word response and retur
ned to the house, climbing the steps with a dignity reserved for royalty. It wasn’t until she was inside that she started shaking again. Her hand reached for the back of the chair in order to steady herself. With her free hand covering her mouth, she willed herself not to cry.

  The jingle of spurs and heavy footsteps behind her told her Travis had followed her into the house. He caught her by the shoulders and turned her around.

  “Damn fool woman,” he muttered, dragging her against him. “I wouldn’t last another night without you.” His mouth swooped down and plundered her lips. The kiss was hard, hot, and compelling, and so wonderfully savage that he took her breath away. Involuntarily her lips parted, and he thrust his tongue forward. As his arms closed around her waist, her own hands slid convulsively around his neck, clinging to him.

  “No more lines?” Mary asked when she could.

  “None. You play dirty, Mary Thompson.”

  She smiled, nestling her head against his chest. “I play fair.”

  “I was at a cattlemen’s meeting last night.”

  Mary melted more securely into his arms. She’d tried not to think where he’d been, tried not to let her mind wander. The insecurities she’d suffered most of her life had taunted her like banshees. She wasn’t pretty enough, she was too small. Her fears had been rampant.

  “Larry, Rob, and I went out for a beer afterward, if you’re wondering about that. This morning, Larry phoned. The wolf got another steer.” His jaw caressed the crown of her head.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “The fines…you could go to prison.”

  “We know.” He tucked his glove-covered hand beneath her chin and raised her mouth to his for a lengthy farewell kiss. “I can’t say when we’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you,” she told him, bringing his mouth back to hers.

  Reluctantly Travis broke away. “I’m counting on that.” With that he turned and walked out of the house.

  Mary’s morning was a busy, happy one. Once the boys were off to school, she’d taken Beth Ann into town with her to do some shopping. They’d purchased fabric for curtains in the five-year-old’s room, paint, and several rolls of brightly colored wallpaper. They’d chosen light, airy tones of pale green, daffodil yellow, and creamy white, a stark contrast to the heavy blue walls and curtains that currently decorated the little girl’s room.

  Mary was hoping to start work in the bedroom that weekend. For part of it she’d need Travis’s help. He didn’t know that yet, but she’d find ways of making him willing.

  Each time she thought of their confrontation that morning, she found herself smiling. There just might be hope for that chauvinist cowboy yet.

  “Hi, I hope I’m not late,” Mary greeted Tilly as she slipped into the booth across from her friend. “I needed to drop Beth Ann off at the school.” She’d been looking forward to this luncheon engagement all week.

  “No, you’re right on time,” Tilly said, offering her a feeble, slightly off-center smile.

  Mary checked her watch again, thinking she might have irritated Tilly by her tardiness. But she was two minutes early.

  “It was a great idea for us to meet for lunch,” she continued, wondering at Tilly’s mood. She reached for the menu and studied the list of entries. She made her selection quickly. When she glanced up, she noticed how ashen Tilly’s features were, although she’d done a good job of disguising it with cosmetics. Her cheeks were pale except for two rosy smudges, and her eyes seemed sunken and empty. She looked as if she’d recently recovered from a lengthy illness.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Mary asked, chastising herself for not noticing right away.

  “I’m fine.”

  Although Tilly’s smile was big and warm, Mary knew she was anything but fine. Tilly continued to study the menu, which disturbed Mary even further. Knowing it as well as she did, Tilly certainly seemed to be taking a long time deciding.

  “I heard the chicken-fried steak is good here, ever tasted it?” Mary teased.

  Either Tilly didn’t hear her, or she missed the joke.

  Sally approached the table, pad and pen in hand. “You two ready to order?”

  “I’ll have the chef’s salad,” Mary said, handing her the plastic-coated menu, “no olives, with diet dressing on the side. Don’t bring me the roll, either.”

  Sally wrote down Mary’s order. “It isn’t any wonder that she has such a slim figure, is it, Tilly? No olives, no bread, and diet dressing.” She giggled, thinking herself amusing.

  Tilly didn’t find that funny, either, although Mary was far more willing to approve of Tilly’s lack of humor this time.

  “You ready to order, Tilly?”

  “I’ll have the same thing.”

  Sally wrote it on the pad. “You want me to give her olives to you?”

  “Olives?” Tilly repeated blankly.

  “Never mind,” Sally muttered, turning away.

  Mary watched as Tilly’s hand circled her water glass. Something was very wrong. “Tilly,” she said gently, “what is it?”

  The other woman opened her purse and reached for a tissue, dabbing it at the bridge of her nose. “I…need to talk to you.”

  “Is it bad?”

  Tilly nodded. “It doesn’t get much worse than this.”

  “You’re in love with Travis and are carrying his child?”

  Tilly laughed. “No…that’s crazy.” She wiped the tears from her face and giggled. “Everyone knows Travis’s in love with you. He’s got the look.”

  “He does?”

  Tilly nodded. “Most of the women in town used to view Travis Thompson as one rugged cowboy. Women really go for that macho image, you know? But lately, any woman interested in Travis can tell that he’s taken. He doesn’t even bother to look much anymore.”

  “Much?”

  “Listen, Mary, a man’s always going to look. He wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t. But Travis’s gaze doesn’t linger. He appreciates a pretty woman, but that’s all he does. He values what he’s got waiting at home for him, and it shows.”

  Mary felt all warm inside hearing that. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the tension from their fight, or a hundred other reasons she couldn’t name, but hot, salty tears brimmed in eyes.

  “Look what you’re doing to me,” she said, her voice wobbling with emotion. She pressed her index fingers under her eyes. “If we aren’t careful, we’ll drive away Martha’s customers.”

  “Damn, but I like you, Mary,” Tilly said softly. “I’m happy that Travis married you. You deserve a man who loves you, and he deserves you.”

  “You know about love yourself, don’t you?” Mary whispered. She reached for the paper napkin. This crying was getting out of hand. She’d never been given to fits of tears, and having cried twice in one day was definitely out of character for her.

  “I’m crazy about Logan Anderson,” Tilly admitted, reaching for the chrome napkin container herself. “I love him more than I thought it was possible to love a man.”

  “Does he feel the same way about you?”

  “I…don’t know. I want to believe it so badly that I don’t trust my own judgment anymore. The problem is I’m not nearly good enough for him.”

  “Don’t you dare say that.”

  “It’s true. He’s an attorney, esteemed in the community, a doctor’s son. I dated college boys a few times. They seemed to think waitress was another word for hooker.”

  “Logan’s not like that.”

  “I know. He’s so good to me. That’s why it makes everything so much more difficult. You see, I have the habit of falling in love with the wrong guy. I thought it was different with Logan, but now I’m beginning to wonder.”

  Sally returned with their order and a bowl of olives for Tilly. Tilly swatted her friend across the rump.

  “Logan drove over to talk to Travis last night,” Mary said, making conversation.

  Tilly’s
head jerked up. “Logan went to see Travis?”

  Mary nodded.

  “Did he…talk to Travis?”

  Mary shook her head. “Travis was at the Cattlemen’s Association meeting.”

  “Oh.” The word was emitted on an elongated sigh.

  “Travis didn’t get home until late, and I forgot to mention it this morning, but I’ll make sure he gives Logan a call tonight.”

  “That’s a real good idea,” Tilly said, brightening visibly.

  “There was something you wanted to tell me?” Mary pressed.

  “Tell you?” she echoed blankly. “Oh, that…”

  “It doesn’t get much worse than this,” she reminded her friend.

  “Oh, that.” Tilly appeared hesitant, almost embarrassed, undoubtedly uneasy. “It was nothing.”

  “Nothing. Tilly, I don’t believe that. You’ve been a wreck over this meeting, and I want to know why.”

  Tilly wadded the paper napkin into a tight ball and lowered her head. “Forgive me, Mary, I was…involving myself in something that was none of my business. Sometimes it’s best just to leave matters to take care of themselves, and I’m beginning to think this is one of those times.”

  “You can’t do this to me.”

  Tilly stretched her hand across the Formica tabletop and reached for Mary’s hand. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but would you mind waiting a while longer? I’m convinced everything will come out in time, and it’s much better if you learn it from someone else.”

  “Learn what? Tilly, be reasonable.”

  “I don’t blame you for being upset. I know I would be, but as your friend, I’m asking you to wait.”

  Mary could see arguing wasn’t going to convince Tilly to tell her what she’d found so important only a few moments before. She reached for another napkin and dabbed the tears from her face. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately,” she admitted hoarsely. “I almost never cry.”

  Mary felt Tilly’s steady gaze, watched as a slow smile began to appear. “Is there any possibility you might be pregnant?”