Morning Comes Softly

by Debbie Macomber

  Seventeen

  Logan was waiting for Tilly inside her apartment when she arrived home. He stood in the doorway leading to her kitchen, a dish towel tucked in at his waist. His grin was warm and wide when she opened the door.

  “Logan, what are you doing here?” Tilly hadn’t expected to see him, nor did she want to. She’d made her decision and had hoped to have some time and perspective before she told Logan. He was making that impossible now.

  He saluted her with a wineglass and sipped from the edge.

  “You’re…drinking.” The words barely escaped the tightness gripping her throat. Damn, but his timing was perfect.

  “It’s Cherry Coke, so don’t look so worried.”

  “It’s late.”

  “I hope you’re hungry, because I fixed you my specialty.”

  The last thing on Tilly’s mind was food. Her appetite had vanished the night of the Harvest Moon Festival. Her weight loss was becoming noticeable. Even Sally had commented on it.

  “Baby,” Logan said, discarding his makeshift apron and setting aside his drink. He moved toward her, his dark eyes revealing his dismay. “What’s wrong?” He guided her to the overstuffed chair and brought her onto his lap. “Tell me, Tilly, please, I can’t bear to see you so unhappy.”

  Tilly gently pushed against him, but he refused to release her. She knew where this was leading, and she wanted no part of it.

  “Is it something I’ve done?”

  Tilly didn’t answer. How could she? When Logan had told her he was in love with her, it had seemed like a miracle. An attorney in love with a waitress. He’d touched a cord in her that she’d assumed was long dead. Phil and Davey had assassinated that deep inner part of her soul that made her free to love. Over the years she’d been in other relationships. She did it for the good times and for the sex, but no man had really loved her. They’d used her, and on rare occasions she’d used them, but in no other relationship had she received such unselfish tenderness.

  “Kiss me,” she pleaded, her hands clenching his shirt and her voice barely audible. When he made love to her, she was able to blot out her suspicions. Then and only then did the pain fade.

  “Tilly, something’s troubling you. You’ve got to tell me what’s making you so unhappy.”

  “Make love to me,” she begged. Her hands directed his mouth to hers, and she kissed him as though she were starved, as if he could wipe out all her pain with his mouth.

  “Tilly,” Logan moaned, dragging his lips from hers. “Not until we’ve talked. We can’t continue like this.”

  “Okay,” she said, her eyes avoiding his. Her fingers were nimble as she unbuttoned her blouse and released the snaps of her bra. Her breasts sprang free of their confines.

  Logan said nothing.

  “I thought you wanted to talk.” She lifted her breasts, as though presenting him an offering. It was an offering, one of pure, unadulterated sex. When she dared glance his way, she noticed his Adam’s apple moving up and down convulsively.

  “Tilly, dear heaven.” He squeezed his eyes closed.

  In the back of her mind, Tilly realized what she was doing, why she found this crude scene so necessary. It was only when they were making love that she felt in control. The pattern was a familiar one, the scene identical to those played out with Phil and Davey.

  A three-time loser, that’s what she was. She hadn’t learned anything. For a while she’d believed it was different with Logan. He’d taught her to feel again. She’d lowered her guard, trusted him. For a while it had been ecstasy, but no more. All that was there now was pain. It felt almost comfortable because she’d become accustomed to dealing with it in so many other relationships.

  “Oh, baby,” Logan moaned, replete. “The things you do to me.”

  Tilly didn’t dare look at Logan, knowing how weak she was, fearing her untrustworthy heart would easily veto the dictates of experience.

  “It’s been fun,” she said, hating and applauding her directness. She sounded cold and hard, but for her sanity’s sake it was necessary. “I gave you what you came for. It’s time you left.”

  Logan’s stunned gaze connected with hers. He sat as though he’d been struck dumb. “Came for?” he repeated.

  “Yeah,” she said, reaching for her purse. She kept a pack of cigarettes handy for times such as these. Although she hadn’t smoked regularly in years, every now and again she still needed a nicotine fix.

  Her hands shook when she struck the match, but she didn’t think Logan noticed. Sitting across from him, she crossed her long legs and aimed a puff of smoke toward the ceiling.

  “It’s over,” she announced coolly.

  “What’s over?” he demanded. He straightened his clothes and sank back onto the chair. He looked disoriented, as if he weren’t sure he was hearing her correctly.

  “Us.” The cigarette tasted like shit, and she stabbed it out on a plate. “I know, Logan. I’m not stupid, although I have to admit it took me far longer than it should have to figure it out.”

  It amazed her how well he was able to maintain a look of innocence. “Know what?”

  “That you were the driver who killed Lee and Janice Thompson.”

  He paled so quickly, she feared he might pass out.

  “You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to tell anyone,” she assured him, knowing that would be his first concern. “I invited Mary to lunch. I wanted to find out what Travis was doing to find the driver and how much information he had. If he was close to figuring out it was you, I was going to go to him, plead with him on your behalf. But before I could say anything Mary told me you’d gone out to see Travis yourself.” She gave him adequate time to explain the reason for his visit, and when he didn’t she continued. “You chickened out, didn’t you? I can’t say that I blame you. No one wants to spend time in prison.”

  “Tilly, listen to me—”

  “If you’re thinking what I suspect you are, you can forget that as well.”

  “Forget what?”

  “Me being your alibi. I’m not lying for you, Logan.”

  “I’d never—”

  “Sure you would,” she said coldly.

  He didn’t say anything for a couple of tension-strained moments. “What did you say to Mary?”

  “You’re worried about that, are you. Well, you needn’t be. I realized I was a fool to involve myself in something that was none of my business. I do that, you know, try to fix things for everyone else, instead of taking care of myself. You’d think I’d know better.”

  “Please, hear me out.”

  “Excuses? No thanks, I’ve heard them all. This time, for once in my life, I’m going to play it smart. I’m bailing out before I end up planning my weekends around prison visitation hours. It would have been far better for you if you’d turned yourself in the night it happened. I’d think you’d know that, being an attorney and all.” She kept her voice cool and as unemotional as possible. “It’s been fun, Logan, don’t get me wrong, but it’s over.”

  “Tilly…” Logan gestured weakly with his hands, vaulted to his feet, and paced the area in front of her.

  “Your one slip in sobriety happened the same night as the accident,” she reminded him.

  “I know, I know,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “You’ve been restless and unhappy for months.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  “Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

  He paused and lowered his gaze. “I’ve needed you so badly.”

  “Yeah, it generally works that way. Phil and Davey needed me, too.”

  “I never knew you could be this cold.” He lifted his eyes to hers, studying her. “We didn’t make love just now.”

  “Not really. That was sex. It was my way of saying good-bye, of proving to myself you aren’t any different from the others. If I’m cold, it’s because I have to be. I can’t afford to care about you anymore, because ultimately it’ll hurt too much.” Sh
e looked away, not wanting him to notice the tears that were filling her eyes. “It always seems to boil down to that.”

  “To what?”

  “Love hurting me.”

  “Not this time, baby, I swear to you—”

  “I’m sorry, Logan, I really am, but for once I’m playing this smart and bailing out while I still have my sanity,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “There isn’t anything you can say that will change my mind.”

  “Nothing?” He stared at her, his eyes dark and intent. “Not even the truth?”

  “The truth? I already know the truth.”

  “No, you don’t.” He knelt in front of her and reached for her hand. “Tilly, I swear to you by everything I hold dear, I didn’t do it.”

  Eighteen

  Mary fretted all night. The slightest sound, a rustle of wind whispering against the window, the hoot of an owl as it flew across the face of the full moon, sent her scurrying to look out the window, watching, waiting, for Travis.

  Sleep was impossible. Each time she attempted to put her concerns aside, her mind filled with visions of her husband and his friends riding across the range. Her imagination ran wild with countless episodes that would place them in harm’s way. Her concern was compounded by the thought of the penalties federal and state governments imposed on anyone who purposely killed a wolf. With fewer than seventeen hundred wolves left in all of Montana, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service took the welfare of their charges seriously. No one knew this better than Travis and the other ranchers, yet they’d chosen to disregard the warnings and take matters into their own hands.

  Mary was sitting in the dark kitchen, stewing in her worries, when Jim wandered out. He paused when he saw her. “Travis didn’t come home?”

  Mary shook her head. “I’m worried, Jim. Anything might have happened.”

  “He’ll be all right.”

  She nearly choked on her panic. It was times like these that she was convinced she’d never make a good rancher’s wife. Other women sent their husbands off seemingly without a qualm, trusting completely in their mate’s abilities to overcome any obstacle. Mary didn’t doubt Travis’s skill. It was the wolf that worried her. The wily beast had outmaneuvered federal and state officials, the best trapper in three states, and every rancher within a hundred miles. Mary didn’t know what Travis and his friends hoped to accomplish, but it didn’t seem promising, whatever it was.

  “You’d better get Scotty up for school,” Mary said to Jim, leaving the table. She walked over to the kitchen counter and then forgot what she was there for.

  The boy hesitated. “Are you going to be all right?”

  Tears came to her eyes, and she reached for him and hugged him close. Jim was at a point in his life when he felt he’d outgrown any display of affection from family, but Mary didn’t care. She wanted to thank him, and because she was so close to breaking into sobs, she couldn’t do it with words.

  “You want me to call someone?” he asked, gently patting her back. “Mrs. Morgan would be glad to come and sit with you. She was real good to us, and she likes you.”

  “No-o, I’ll be fine.” Mary released him. Jim looked grateful to have escaped her embrace. “Thanks for the hug,” she whispered.

  “That’s all right. Women need a man every now and again.” He sounded so grown-up, so like Travis, that it was all Mary could do not to gather him in her arms a second time.

  A couple of moments later Scotty rushed into the kitchen, dressed in his flannel pajamas. He’d apparently gone to bed with his hair wet because it swept upward like a skateboard ramp against the side of his head. “Where’s Travis?”

  “He didn’t come home, but there’s no need to worry.”

  Scotty didn’t say anything for several moments. “That’s what happened with Mom and Dad,” he whispered brokenly. “They didn’t come home and they didn’t come home. The baby-sitter got upset and called her mother and then…then the sheriff came and…”

  “Travis is fine, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

  “But he didn’t come home.” Scotty’s young voice shook forcefully. “Not all night.”

  Beth Ann’s whiny voice came from her bedroom. “She wet the bed,” Scotty whispered. “She always whines when she wets the bed.”

  Scotty’s prediction proved to be accurate. It amazed Mary how easily the children had absorbed her tension. All evening she’d tried to hide her concern, but with little success. She’d expected Travis back by dinnertime, and when he hadn’t shown, she’d tried to make light of it. Apparently her acting skills were a bit rusty.

  Travis had been gone over twenty-four hours. Although Mary hadn’t seen what he’d packed, she knew his saddlebags would hold only so much. He was probably hungry, cold, and near desperate by now.

  The phone rang while she stood lifelessly stirring the pan of oatmeal. The children glanced at her, eyes revealing their fears. She reached for the receiver and prayed with everything in her that it was some word regarding her husband.

  “Mary, it’s Travis.”

  “Travis,” she cried, and it seemed the four of them collectively sighed their relief. “Where are you?”

  “Jail, listen—”

  “Jail?” Mary cried. “For the love of heaven, what are you doing there?”

  “I don’t have time to explain that now. I’ve only got one phone call, and Sheriff Tucker’s standing over me like a warlord. Listen, I need you to come bail me out.”

  “Bail you out?”

  “Don’t sound so worried, honey, I’ve been in jail before.”

  “You didn’t tell me that before we were married.”

  “You didn’t ask.” He seemed to find her concern amusing.

  “Are you all right?” Her knees were weak with an overwhelming sense of relief.

  “You mean other than being half-starved, half-frozen, and plumb out of luck?”

  “Yeah?”

  His voice lowered. “I’m fine, other than…” He hesitated.

  “Yes?” Worry rang in her own ears.

  “Damn, but I missed you, woman.”

  “I…I missed you, too.”

  “Good.” He sounded cheered by that. “I want you to know I intend to make it up to you. Now hurry before Tucker decides to throw the book at me.”

  Travis felt good. Damn good. The wolf wouldn’t be a problem any longer, thanks to Larry’s tracking skills and a fair amount of luck. Too bad their good fortune hadn’t held, but he didn’t have a whole lot to complain about. They’d found the wolf, trapped it themselves, and then with a good deal of ceremony turned him over to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service headquarters. The department head was not amused, nor had he found them particularly clever. In fact, he was furious. No more than five minutes after their arrival, he’d phoned the sheriff and had the three arrested. Travis, like Larry and Rob, knew they were taking a chance and might possibly get stuck with a hefty penalty, but they figured any fair-minded judge would see matters their way. That was the best they could hope for. All three were aware of the risks when they’d started this little adventure.

  “Poor Travis,” Larry said from the bottom bunk of the holding cell when Travis returned. He was on his back, his hands cradling his head. “One phone call, and I’d guess you chose to call the little woman. Got to check in home now that you’re married, don’t you?”

  Travis grumbled but didn’t rise to the bait.

  “Now me,” Larry said with an air of superiority, “I’m not wasting my phone call checking in with no wife. No siree, I’m calling my attorney. He’ll have me out of here lickety split. Meanwhile Travis is going to be stuck in the cell twiddling his thumbs until Mary decides to forgive him.”

  Sheriff Tucker came for Rob next. Rob made his phone call and returned scowling. “Problems?” Larry demanded.

  Rob shook his head. “My attorney’s in court this morning. His secretary said she’d let him know as soon as he’s back in the office, but it probably won’t be until late this
afternoon.”

  “In other words, we’re stuck here until your man shows?” Larry cried, bolting upright. He seemed to have forgotten he was in a bunk and bonged his head against the springs. A rush of swear words purpled the air.

  “You got a problem back there, Larry Martin?” Tucker shouted as he strolled back toward their cell. He looped his thumbs into his waist and rocked back onto his heels. It seemed to Travis that the lawman was enjoying this a bit too much.

  “Yeah, I changed my mind. I want to make that call after all.”

  “Fine.” The sheriff unlocked the cell door and led Larry out to the front, where he could place his own call.

  No more than a couple of minutes passed before Larry was back. “Who’d you call?” Rob wanted to know.

  “Logan Anderson. He might be new in town, but at least that’s where he is, in town.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “Hell if I know. All I care about is getting out of here. I don’t know about you two, but I could do with a hot meal and bath.”

  “Is Anderson coming?” Rob pressed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I talked to his secretary,” Larry explained. “But apparently he hasn’t shown up at the office yet.”

  “Ten o’clock in the morning and he hasn’t even bothered to come in to work. It’s no wonder these city folks are all soft. He’s probably still in bed.”

  “I would be, too,” Larry muttered, sagging onto the bottom bunk, “if Tilly Lawrence showed half as much interest in me.”

  “What did Anderson’s secretary say?”

  “She promised she’d have him come over to the jail as soon as he arrived.”

  Rob stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. “It looks like we’re all gonna be stuck here until this afternoon. God only knows how much time it’ll take Mary to bail out Travis.”

  “I bet she’ll chew your hide all the way home.”

  Travis shrugged, uncaring.

  “She’ll probably make him sleep on the sofa for a week,” Larry added, and the two men guffawed loudly, apparently thinking it was fitting punishment.