Morning Comes Softly

by Debbie Macomber

  Tilly knocked against the front door and waited. No one answered, and then she realized she would probably need to ring the bell. Pride dictated that if she’d come this far, she’d be a fool to turn away because she was afraid to push a stupid button. She used her thumb to hold down the buzzer and kept it there for several ear-shattering seconds.

  “All right, all right,” Logan snapped impatiently as he threw open the door. He froze when he saw Tilly. Apparently he’d come straight from the shower; he was all wrapped up in a thick robe.

  “Hello, Logan.”

  He looked at her as if she were an apparition, as if he were certain she’d vanish right before his eyes any second. “You came.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I thought about what you had to say about things…and realized you were right. I never believed you’d want to marry me. I still don’t. My life hasn’t been any pristine walk through the park, if you know what I mean.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me, Tilly, it never has.” He reached for her hands and drew her inside. When he noticed the diamond ring on her finger, he closed his eyes as if to issue a silent prayer of gratitude.

  “There are things you should know before you decide you want to marry me. Things I should have told you a long time ago. I’m no bargain.”

  “Don’t say that again,” he told her sternly. “None of it matters, you hear? You’re the woman I love.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her with a hunger that left them both weak with longing.

  “I didn’t dare hope you’d come,” Logan whispered, rubbing his lips over hers.

  “I tried to stay away. I told myself it’d be a mistake to believe you really meant everything you said, but I couldn’t do it. You don’t have to marry me, even now you don’t.”

  “Our children might appreciate it later on, though, don’t you think?”

  “You really meant that, about raising a family?”

  “With all my heart. As long as you’re willing.” His eyes were filled with an expectant love.

  Tilly nodded eagerly.

  “I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this, but I was thinking it might not be such a good idea for us to make love for a while.”

  “Why not?” Tilly demanded. He was right, she didn’t like this decree one bit. It was a little late to play the role of the virgin. She’d given that up at fifteen on the backseat of a Dodge convertible.

  “Because I want everything to be right between us with no questions, no doubts.”

  “I certainly hope you intend to make this a short engagement.”

  Logan’s smile was broad and full of love. “Damn short. Just enough time for us to make all the proper arrangements. We’ll let Martha cater a reception.”

  “You want a reception?”

  “Of course.”

  “You must have told your dad.”

  Logan grinned again. “A few days ago.”

  “How’d he take it?”

  Logan laughed, and Tilly swore she’d never heard a more beautiful sound. “He said I was old enough to marry whoever I damn well please, and Tilly Lawrence, you please me.”

  “You know, I’m not a bad cook, or at least I’m not completely inept in the kitchen. Mary Thompson will teach me to sew, I know she will. Before long—Oh, my goodness.” She stopped and pressed her hands to her lips. “Next thing you know, I’m going to be a regular housewife with kids and a husband.”

  “So you cook.” Logan kissed the end of her pert nose. “Good. Why don’t you see what you can rustle up for dinner while I get dressed?”

  A frenzied exchange of kisses nearly routed Tilly into the bedroom, but she laughingly reminded him of their agreement. Logan looked sorry for ever having said anything, which made her love him all the more.

  Bragging about her expertise in the kitchen might have been a mistake. She examined his cupboards and found them as empty as her own. A box of raisin bran, two cans of tunafish, and a sack of potatoes would take more imagination than she had.

  The freezer on top of the refrigerator netted her a half gallon of ice cream that looked as if it had been left over from the Fourth of July.

  Thinking he might keep a larger freezer in the garage, she opened the door leading from the house. Her guess proved to be accurate. Turning on the light switch, she scooted past the blue car to the upright freezer against the wall. She found two T-bone steaks and a bag of frozen hash browns and was carrying them back into the kitchen when she saw it.

  If ever there had been a moment Tilly wanted to die, it was then. Die, because if she were dead, she wouldn’t feel this terrible pain.

  The sense of betrayal cut far deeper than the lies. Everything Logan had said to her had been a lie. He didn’t love her. He only wanted to marry her for legal reasons. According to the law, a wife couldn’t testify against her husband, or so she’d heard.

  The proof of his deceit sat directly in front of her. Logan’s car. The dented front, the scrape of paint along the side the same color as Lee Thompson’s car.

  This was the vehicle Logan had told her he’d traded in for a new one shortly after his arrival in Grandview. The same car Travis Thompson had been searching for in the parking lot the night of the Harvest Moon Festival.

  The car that was responsible for the deaths of Lee and Janice Thompson.

  Twenty

  Mary stood naked in front of the fog-smudged bathroom mirror, squinting, seeking a glimpse of herself. A woman was supposed to know these things. Especially a married woman.

  Tilly had been the first one to put the notion she might be pregnant into her head. Pregnant. Mary flattened her palm over her abdomen.

  If she’d suffered from the more classic symptoms, she could have been sure. But not once had she been queasy. If anything, she was more fit than ever. Her appetite was good, better than average, and she felt wonderful. A pregnant woman generally felt just the opposite, or so she’d heard.

  At first Mary had brushed off Tilly’s suggestion as sheer nonsense. Then, after consulting a number of books on pregnancy and childbirth, she’d acknowledged that if anyone was being foolish, it was she, and quite possibly Travis. They’d never given birth control a second thought, while they’d repeatedly enjoyed the delights of their marriage.

  No longer able to ignore the possibility, Mary had made an appointment with Doc Anderson. His nurse had squeezed her in late in the afternoon, but waiting even another few hours seemed unreasonable now. She wanted to know. Needed to know, because keeping even the possibility to herself was becoming increasingly difficult.

  Tears glazed her eyes as she tried to imagine what she would have been like if she’d never answered Travis’s newspaper ad. The dull, lifeless existence as Petite’s librarian seemed so far removed from the woman she was now. It was more difficult to accept that Travis and the children hadn’t always been a part of her life.

  Mary finished dressing and stuck a load of jeans in the washing machine. When she finished she rewarded herself with a call to her longtime friend.

  “Georgeanne,” Mary said into the telephone receiver, “it’s me, Mary.”

  “Mary…oh, Mary, it’s so good to hear from you!” Georgeanne’s happy chatter cheered her instantly. “Oh, my goodness, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to call, but you seem to be so busy, and I…Mary, your letters are so full of your joy. You’re happy, really happy, aren’t you?”

  Mary’s smile was warm as she watched the morning blossom softly over the hill. With it came a remarkable, unrestrained joy she’d never dreamed would be hers. Being plain and small had been obstacles enough, but intelligence had killed any chance of romance in her small town. She’d been discarded, rejected, overlooked. A leftover girl. That was what her own grandmother had called her once. But no longer.

  “I am happy,” she admitted.

  “I never dreamed this crazy marriage of yours would work. I hope you’ll forgive me, Mary, for being so selfish. I should never ha
ve said the things I did.”

  “Georgeanne, don’t fret.” Mary was unwilling to pay long-distance rates to hear her friend whine over her misgivings. No woman in her right mind would have left the only home she’d ever known to marry a stranger. That was, unless she was desperate. As her best friend, Georgeanne had had every right to be concerned.

  “I’m calling because, well, because I think I might be pregnant,” Mary explained a bit sheepishly.

  “Mary! How wonderful! Are you taking care of yourself?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “You make sure Travis doesn’t let you lift anything heavier than a—”

  “Travis doesn’t know.”

  Georgeanne clucked her disapproval. “Why in heaven’s name doesn’t he? The dear man’s going to be a father!”

  “I can’t say anything to Travis until everything’s confirmed. I feel giddy, Georgeanne, I’m so happy. Every time I think about a baby tears come to my eyes.”

  “What’s Travis going to say?”

  Mary laughed. She’d put a lot of thought into that same question. Her guess was that he’d never given the matter a second thought. “He’ll be ecstatic.” Stunned, but delighted, Mary decided.

  “You’ll let me know the minute you get home from the doctor, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Mary promised.

  Tilly sat on the easy chair in her living room all night. She hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. Nor had she cried since she’d found the damaged car in Logan’s garage. One more piece of the puzzle neatly in place. That explained why he’d bought a new car when his old one was perfectly good. It was crazy that she hadn’t connected Logan’s purchase with the Thompsons’ accident.

  Come sunrise, she knew what she had to do. Packing was easy, she’d done it so often. Grandview had been her fresh start in life, yet she’d made the same mistakes, lived the same old lies. When was she going to learn? Probably never.

  Logan’s diamond ring was clenched tightly in the palm of her hand. He’d insisted she keep it, and she had, although she wasn’t sure why. Possibly as a reminder of what a fool she was. A reminder of how close she’d come to living the impossible dream.

  Her fist ached so badly, and still she didn’t relax her hand. Not even when her arm started to throb. Nor did she weep. She was empty. Numb. Dead to all the lonely tomorrows.

  As she had countless times in the past, she’d survive. One day at a time. One hour at a time. And for now, minute to minute.

  Not once did she allow her mind to dwell on Logan or the shocked, sick look that had come over him when he’d found her in his garage. He hadn’t tried to explain or offer her an excuse. For that much she was grateful. As she’d walked past him, he’d reached out and touched her arm, lightly, without pressure, and told her she could keep the diamond.

  Tilly didn’t know how she was going to be able to report for work. Somehow she’d make it through her shift, and when she was through she’d pull out of Grandview, Montana. There was nothing left for her here except heartache and a whole lot of memories she’d rather forget. It was the same reason she’d left Idaho. At this rate, she could work her way across fifty states, dying a little more each stop along the way.

  By ten everything of value she owned was loaded in the trunk of her Chevy Impala. She hoped Martha would forgive her for leaving her in a crunch, but that was only a small worry. Tilly doubted she would manage to forgive herself. Not for running, that was second nature to her. But for swallowing the truth, keeping it to herself when she should have gone straight to the sheriff’s office. Her last gift to Logan was her silence.

  “What’s the matter with you, kid?” Martha said when she walked through the cafe kitchen. “You look awful.”

  “I’m giving my notice,” Tilly said without emotion, steeling herself for the confrontation. “It’s time I moved on.”

  Martha handed her spatula to the assistant chef and followed Tilly. “What in tarnation are you talking about, girl? This is your home now. You fit in here better than me, and I was born and raised in Grandview. The customers love you.”

  “I’m leaving, Martha.” Unwilling to argue, Tilly reached for a pencil and wrote down the specials for the day on the back of her pad.

  “Leaving?” Martha cried, hands braced against her hips. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “So did I,” Tilly murmured, “but I can’t stay. I won’t stay.”

  Martha mulled over her words. “It’s Doc’s boy, isn’t it?”

  Tilly didn’t answer the question. “You’ve been a good friend. Sally, too. I’m going to miss you both.”

  “All right,” Martha muttered, throwing her hands into the air. “I can see you’ve already made up your mind. I don’t know why it is, but every time I find myself a decent waitress, she falls in love. That’s the beginning of the end.”

  Tilly felt much the same. Love was the beginning of the end for her, too, only she kept repeating the same, senseless mistake. She’d convinced herself with each new relationship that it was going to be better or different. With Logan she’d been so sure, but then she’d felt that way about the others, too.

  She tied her apron around her waist and walked onto the floor to relieve Susan, a housewife who worked part-time.

  She hadn’t taken two steps when she saw Logan. For several unguarded moments she soaked in the sight of him. He looked as bad as she felt. That offered her no comfort. He must have sensed her presence because he turned toward her.

  Her first instinct was to walk away. But he wouldn’t allow that. His gaze held her as effectively as a policeman’s grip.

  “Hello, Tilly.” She noticed how he glanced at her bare ring finger. A flicker of pain flashed into his eyes but was quickly gone.

  “Logan.”

  “Give me twenty-four hours.”

  “For what?” The man was arrogant beyond belief.

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Sorry,” she said with a flippant laugh. “That’s sixteen hours too long. As soon as my shift is over, I’m leaving Grandview.”

  He nodded. Slowly he raised his hand to her face and caressed the line of her jaw with his finger.

  Tilly swayed but caught herself in time and jerked away.

  “I’ll be right there, Pete,” she said to the feed store manager, who took a seat at the counter. She practically raced to pour him a cup of coffee.

  Logan turned and walked out the door.

  Tilly’s hands were shaking so badly, she nearly scalded herself. The physical pain felt good. It helped her remember she was alive.

  Five minutes after Logan left, Travis Thompson wandered into the cafe and straddled a seat at the counter.

  “Tilly, has Mary been here?”

  “Haven’t seen her,” she said, unable to look him in the eye. Travis and Mary were another reason she had to leave town. They were her friends, and she was betraying that friendship, leaving Travis and the children to the agony of the unknown.

  “She’s got to be someplace in town.”

  “If she stops in, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her,” Tilly said, pulling down Pete’s order from the kitchen. She delivered it and refilled his coffee.

  “Doc Anderson’s nurse called and canceled her appointment this afternoon. Hell, I didn’t even know she had one.” Travis set his Stetson on the counter. “I’ll take a cup of that coffee,” he said, scratching the side of his head. “What would Mary have a doctor’s appointment for?”

  Tilly brought him his coffee. “Is Beth Ann’s cast ready to come off?”

  “Not yet. Besides, the appointment was for Mary.”

  “Travis,” Tilly said, out of patience with all men, especially one who could be so damned obtuse, “think about it.”

  “About what?” he snapped.

  “Why does a woman generally see a doctor?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be pumping you for information, now, would I?”

  “Did it ever occur to
you that Mary might be pregnant?”

  “Pregnant!” Travis bellowed, spewing out a mouthful of hot coffee. He reared up out of his seat and grabbed his hat, slamming it down on his head. “Pregnant,” he repeated, sinking onto the stool as if his legs had lost their strength. “Why, that’s…” He paused when Tilly moved in front of him. “Why, that’s entirely possible,” he admitted.

  “Hello, is anyone here?” Mary stood in the middle of Doc Anderson’s empty waiting room. Generally an empty seat was a rare commodity at Doc’s.

  At the receptionist’s desk, she set down her purse and rummaged through it for her appointment book, certain she’d written down the time correctly.

  A noise, the sound of breaking glass, startled her. “Hello,” she called again, “is anyone here?”

  Silence.

  “Hello,” she said a bit louder this time, stepping into the long hallway toward Doc’s office. “It’s Mary Thompson. Is Doc Anderson here?”

  “Mary.” The hoarse sound of her own name greeted her as she discovered Doc sitting at his desk. His eyes were wild and his face twisted. In one hand he held a whiskey bottle and in the other a small handgun.

  “Doc?”

  “Mary…sweet Mary Thompson.” He fortified himself with a long swallow of the whiskey.

  “Doc, what’s wrong?” she asked, eyeing the gun.

  “Leave.” He waved the weapon at her. “Get out of here.”

  Mary tensed. Every instinct demanded she turn and run. Either her fear paralyzed her or her intuition. Doc wasn’t planning on hurting her. He wouldn’t demand she leave if that were the case.

  “You’ve been drinking,” she said softly.

  He sobbed and stood, slouching against the wall.

  “Doc, please listen to me. There’s help for you—”

  “Not anymore,” he said, cutting her off. “Leave, Mary, for the love of heaven, just leave me alone.”

  “If I do,” she argued, “you’re going to do something stupid.”

  “I already have.”

  Mary didn’t know if she should continue to reason with him or not. “This town needs you,” she told him. “People respect and love you.”