Morning Comes Softly

by Debbie Macomber

  “Tell them I’m sorry,” he cried, and staggered forward. “It was an accident…I never meant to hurt anyone. Tell…tell the children for me.”

  “Doc, you’re not making any sense. Give me the gun and then we can talk this whole thing out. No one’s going to hate you.”

  Mary thought she heard something behind her, but she didn’t dare divert her attention from Doc.

  “You’ll know soon…enough.”

  “Doc, please.”

  “Hate myself…tell Travis I’m sorry…I never meant to kill anyone,” he cried again. “Lee and Janice were good people…they shouldn’t have died. I’m so sorry…tell Travis.”

  “You’re going to have to tell me that yourself, old man,” Travis’s steel tones announced from behind her.

  Twenty-one

  “Get behind me,” Travis instructed, doing his best to jockey himself between Mary and the pistol Doc Anderson was holding. His eyes were trained on the older man.

  “You killed Lee and Janice,” he said calmly, edging his way around Mary. He prayed she had sense enough to slip away while he kept Doc occupied. Instead she stayed glued to his back. He tried to push her farther back but couldn’t do much without attracting Doc’s attention.

  “What am I going to do now?” Doc cried, waving the weapon in their direction.

  “First you’re going to give me the gun,” Travis said, extending his arm.

  “No,” Doc returned forcefully. “I’ll end up in prison. I couldn’t take that.” He staggered a few steps forward, pointing the gun toward Mary.

  Travis froze, all senses heightened until the slightest sound was magnified in his ears. He could smell Doc’s fear. And his own.

  Then, slowly, cautiously, he stepped toward Doc.

  “Stop right there.”

  “Put down the gun,” Travis encouraged. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “I…can’t. I won’t hurt you, I left…a letter. One to you and the other to Logan. Oh, God, Logan…my only son. He wanted to help me…instead I ruined him…. He tried so hard. I was never a good father to him….” He was sobbing uncontrollably now.

  Travis advanced another step.

  “Stay back.”

  The barrel of the gun loomed before him like the huge gaping mouth of a cannon. Mary was behind him, which at this point was small comfort. He couldn’t trust her to do the sane, sensible thing, like sneaking away and calling the sheriff. It was obvious Doc was psychotic, driven mad with booze and guilt.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you…never meant to.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you suffer?” Doc dropped the bottle. He wavered a couple of steps. “Were you in terrible pain? I thought about that. Dear, sweet Jesus, why wouldn’t you let me sleep?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The night I killed you,” Doc shouted impatiently.

  Travis paused, then said evenly, “No, I didn’t suffer. Neither did my wife.” He edged toward the doctor, taking one minuscule step at a time. The slightest abrupt movement might topple the man’s precarious hold on sanity.

  “I…suffered, too…every day since, every night. No sleep, drugs didn’t help…not even whiskey.”

  “I know how sorry you are,” Travis said.

  “You do?”

  Travis nodded. “Janice forgives you, too.”

  “The children…I couldn’t look at those children, knowing I had killed their parents.”

  “Janice and I know it was a terrible accident. You didn’t mean to hurt us.”

  Doc’s shoulders heaved with the force of his sobbing. “I…I drove you off the road and didn’t stop. I’m a physician…and I didn’t stop. That’s the worst part, knowing…I might have saved you if I hadn’t been so scared. You must hate me…I hate myself.”

  “It was an accident,” Travis repeated.

  “I…I stopped drinking. I promised myself and God, and I didn’t touch it again…not for weeks.” His gaze fell to the discarded, empty bottle on the floor. “I need it,” he shouted. “I hate it…I didn’t want to drink, but I had to have something to get me through the day.”

  “Dad.”

  Logan Anderson’s calm voice sounded from behind Travis.

  “Logan…go away.”

  “Give me the gun.”

  “No…no. Got to finish what I started.”

  “Dad, you don’t realize what you’re doing. You’re not well. I’ll take care of everything.” Logan eased past Travis and continued on toward his father.

  “Not anymore…no one can. I deserve to die….” Doc lifted the gun to his head.

  “Dad, no!” Logan shouted as he rushed forward.

  Everything happened in slow motion for Travis. Logan flung himself at his father, and it seemed he flew through the air. He gripped hold of Doc’s arm with both hands.

  The gun exploded, and the force of it knocked Travis, who hadn’t realized he was so close to Doc, against the wall.

  Mary screamed in panic and called for him.

  “No…no!” Doc’s hysterical wail blended with hers, and he sagged, his features contorted.

  Logan gripped his shoulder, and a dark glistening stain spread through his shirt and coat. Instinctively he gripped the wound and stumbled backward, catching himself against the wall. He slid down it until he was in a sitting position on the floor. Trickles of blood seeped through his splayed fingers and over his hand. His gaze sought out his father’s, but Travis noticed his eyes were blank. Then he went slack and slumped onto his side.

  Travis removed the gun from Doc’s hand.

  “My son, my son…I’ve killed my son.” Doc’s knees crumpled slowly and he pitched forward.

  “Travis.” His name was little more breath than sound. He turned in time to see his wife, as pale as alabaster, sink to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  Tilly sat patiently by the hospital bed. She’d been there from the moment she’d heard Logan had been shot and his father arrested for the deaths of Lee and Janice Thompson. She still wore her pale pink uniform from Martha’s, and had a wad of damp tissue clenched in her hand.

  Logan had been in surgery when Tilly arrived. She’d paced the hospital corridor, awaiting the outcome, not knowing if he’d survive. When she’d learned Logan would recover, she’d broken down. For the last few hours she had been content to sit by Logan’s bedside, surround him with her love, and wait.

  He was pale; he was so deathly pale. Chalky shadows marked his face, and a film of moisture dampened his upper brow. Tilly worried he was burning up with fever. She longed to touch him, to run her hand down his precious face, to hold him in her arms again. Only hours earlier she’d been determined to walk away from him, but nothing on this earth was powerful enough to force her from his side now that she knew the truth.

  She took comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest, willing him to rest in comfort, free from pain.

  Sometime later, how long Tilly didn’t know, she discovered that his eyes were open and he was studying her. He continued to stare as if he weren’t sure he could trust she was actually there.

  “Hello,” she whispered.

  “Tilly?”

  “You damn well better not be thinking I’m some other women, bub,” she teased. She would have preferred him to mistake her for an angel, but she doubted that many of God’s messengers had blotchy red faces and pink uniforms. “How do you feel?” she ventured.

  Logan moistened his lips. “Like I’ve got a hole the size of Kansas in my shoulder.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tilly said. “Why’d you let me believe you were responsible?”

  Logan’s eyes drifted shut, and Tilly knew it was wrong of her to demand an explanation when he was so weak. There’d be plenty of time for that later.

  “Dad had taken my car and returned hours later in a panic, drunk and badly shaken. I knew something was wrong, and when he broke down and told me, I lost it. I hadn’t had a drink in years. I thought I was b
eyond ever needing one again. It’s a disease, Tilly, cunning and powerful. That was the night I came to you, remember?”

  Tilly nodded.

  “It was also the night I realized I’d fallen in love with you. You were the one person I could turn to when it seemed the whole world was exploding in my face.”

  “It’s all right, you don’t need to tell me now. Rest.”

  “I’m an attorney…I should have known protecting him was wrong.”

  “He’s your father.”

  “He’s sick, Tilly.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s been an alcoholic for years, even while I was growing up. God only knows how he was able to hide it. He never drank at the office, and by every outward appearance his life was in order. He’d been living a lie for so long, he didn’t know how to deal with the truth. The accident forced him to face up to his problem.”

  Tilly’s hand reached for his. “You would have let me walk away?”

  “I…had no choice. I talked with Dad countless times, pleaded with him, and each time he’d promise to turn himself over to the authorities, but he kept finding excuses. We had terrible fights about it. I threatened a hundred times to turn him in, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Not my own father.”

  Tilly massaged the inside of his wrist with her thumb.

  “I couldn’t tell you, Tilly, couldn’t put that burden on you. I went to Dad, explained about us. I thought it would prompt him to do the right thing. Instead it drove him over the edge.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

  “On a conscious level I don’t, but in another way I do. Matters should never have gone this far. When you talked about trying to fix things for me with Travis, that’s what I was doing with Dad. I should have known better. Taking care of my own problems is all I can handle. I can’t help my father any longer, not that I ever was helping him. I just assumed because it was costing me so much, it must be doing him some good. I was wrong. Because of that everything nearly blew up in my face.”

  “I wanted to believe you so much, but I couldn’t let myself.”

  “I don’t blame you, baby. I appreciated your strength.”

  “My strength. You’re wrong. I’m the weak one. I always have been. I had a baby, Logan,” she whispered, “and gave him up for adoption. I wanted to tell you that for a long time. He’s three now.”

  “Shhh.” Logan’s hand gripped hers. “It doesn’t matter, Tilly. None of it matters. You did what was best for you and your child.”

  “I know, it’s just that I thought you should know what you’re getting.” Tilly looked away, unable to believe she’d found such a man.

  “I’ve always known, Tilly, and I don’t want you any different than you are.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?” she whispered.

  “Would you have believed me? Think about it, baby. All the evidence pointed to me. You saw me drunk the night of the accident. It was my car Dad was driving. All I could tell you was that it wasn’t me and leave it at that.”

  “The engagement ring?”

  “It wasn’t a bribe,” he said, and his eyes darkened with his sincerity. “I meant every word. I love you, I want us to be together.”

  “It’s a good thing because this ring isn’t coming off my finger again. Not for anything. You’d better concentrate on recovering because we’ve got lots of lost time to make up for. I don’t intend this engagement to be a long one.”

  His eyes met hers, and when he smiled, it was full and sexy. “You can count on it.”

  “I am. Furthermore, you should probably know, I’ve thrown away my birth control pills.”

  Logan’s grin grew wider. “Give me a day or two, that’s all I’ll need to fulfill your wish.”

  Tilly sniffled and rubbed her hand across her face.

  “Baby, don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m so damn happy.”

  “Good. Let’s both stay that way for the next fifty years.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you leave? Couldn’t you see Doc had gone crazy?” Travis demanded the minute they were outside Sheriff Tucker’s office. They’d spent hours answering questions and a bunch of other nonsense Tucker seemed to think was necessary. Travis’s patience had long since been used up.

  His unreasonable anger was directed at Mary, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He helped her inside the truck, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

  “Hold me,” Mary asked in a small voice.

  Travis brought her into his arms, absorbing the miracle of her, warm and alive. His hands were in her hair, and her breath was soft and sweet against his skin. She smelled of roses and violets.

  “I was so scared.”

  Travis’s arms tightened. This was his woman, and he’d just lived through one of the worst hours of his life. All he’d known when he’d confronted Doc holding the gun on her was that he wasn’t going to lose her. Mary would walk away from this no matter what it took, even if it meant his own life. When she’d fainted, he’d lost a good five years to fear, thinking she somehow had been hit, too. It took several moments before he’d realized she’d passed out.

  “Let’s go home,” he said on the tail end of a sigh.

  He waited until she was comfortably situated on the seat before he shut the door. When he climbed in beside her, he started the engine. Holding her had assuaged some of his anger. His hands tightened around the steering wheel.

  “You might have said something,” he blurted out.

  “Travis, I’m sorry, I truly am. It was wrong of me to have misled you. I probably should have said something much sooner.”

  “You’re damn right you should have.”

  She paled at the vehemence with which he spoke, but Travis couldn’t help that. He was going to be a father, and it seemed everyone in town had known it except him.

  “Being a rancher’s wife…if I’d told you sooner, you and the children might not have chosen me, and I—”

  Travis swore savagely. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “My aversion to the sight of blood. That’s why I fainted. What are you talking about?”

  “I thought you were pregnant.” He shifted gears with unnecessary force.

  “You know about that?”

  “You mean you were planning on keeping it a secret?”

  “Of course not. Travis, I don’t think we should discuss this until you’re rational.”

  “Unfortunately, that may take a hell of a long time.” Travis sped ahead, uncaring that they’d left the station wagon in town. They’d come back for it later. What was important was getting Mary home and in his arms and in his bed again. Only then would his fear recede. It wasn’t until he’d shifted gears again that he noticed his hands were shaking. Delayed reaction, he realized. His heart hadn’t fully recovered even now. He was a rancher and a hell-raiser, and he’d lived on the hard edge of life, flirting with danger, even death, but he’d done it without a trace of fear.

  Fear, Travis decided, was seeing an insane doctor holding a gun on his wife. He trembled with it hours later, knowing how terribly close he’d come to losing Mary.

  “I was keeping the news as a surprise.”

  “When did you plan to tell me? On the delivery table?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Travis grumbled under his breath and chanced a look in her direction. She sat, her backbone straight as a bookcase, her hands folded primly in her lap, looking very much like the frumpy librarian who’d taken his life by storm.

  “Well?” she asked with an exaggerated sigh, as though she were impatient about something. “What do you think about us having a baby? Are you pleased?”

  Most husbands probably said something poetic and mushy at times like these. Things about being so overwhelmed with joy that his heart forgot to beat and his lungs didn’t need to breathe. Mary deserved to hear those fanciful words. He felt her scrutiny and knew she was waiting for his answer.r />
  “Tilly was the one who told me. I damn near choked to death on a mouthful of coffee, if knowing that pleases you.”

  Mary laughed softly, and he turned and smiled at her. Damn, but he loved this woman. She was foolish and stubborn, but she was one hell of a wife, about all the woman he ever hoped to handle.

  It was hard to keep his eyes on the road, she was so pretty. Her cheeks were rosy and her blue eyes were twinkling up at him. A breeze ruffled and teased her hair, blowing it this way and that.

  “I knew you’d be shocked. I hoped you’d be as delighted as I am. Are you?”

  Travis nodded. “Hell, Mary, as soon as Tilly said it, I figured it had to be true, and then I realized how much I wanted it to be true. I remembered how Lee was after Janice first told him she was pregnant with Jim. He came over and he was so damn excited. He got this funny look on his face. When I asked him about it, he just chuckled.

  “I’ve missed my brother. He was more to me than just my brother, he was my friend, too. Ever since he’s been gone, it’s felt like there’s a giant emptiness right here.” He slammed his fist against his heart. “That space filled up when I learned you were pregnant. For the first time since Lee’s been gone I felt his presence far stronger than his absence. Yes, Mary, I’m pleased you’re going to have a baby. Nothing on this earth could make me happier.”

  “Could twins?”

  “Twins,” he blurted out. “You’re teasing, I hope.”

  “Well, it’s much too soon to be sure, but they run in my family. My mother was a twin, and—”

  Travis drove to the side of the road, put the truck in neutral, and reached for her. She came into his embrace like a magnet, wrapping her slender arms around him.

  “God knows, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He’d never thought it would be possible to find such happiness with the frumpy old maid who’d stepped off the plane, but that was before she’d bulldozed her way into his heart. Now he couldn’t live without her any more than he could go without air or water. Mary was his window, his light, his love.