Dream a Little Dream

by Melinda Curtis

  “If only he’d gone to the hospital. He might still be here.” Pearl clung to George’s suit sleeve as if his arm filled it. “I could be sitting and holding his hand now.” She swung her gaze around, taking in the bottom of Darcy’s robe. “You’ll trip on the stairs to the bench if you don’t hem that.”

  “Wouldn’t that make Rupert and Oliver happy?” Darcy slipped out of the robe, intent upon returning it to its hanger.

  But Pearl took it from her. “I’ll hem this one. But the rest…This house, his office, his clothing are all I have left of him.”

  Darcy stared into the bedroom, seeing more than an empty bed. She saw the recent past.

  “I should have married you when you asked, George,” Pearl had said, clinging to his hand in those final days. “Then I could have taken care of you and your things properly.”

  Darcy hadn’t missed Pearl’s jab at her or the hint about an inheritance. Since his marriage to Darcy, Pearl, Rupert, and Oliver had often asked about George’s plans to disperse his wealth. He’d never answered.

  But at Pearl’s confession, George had glanced at Darcy with a look so heartbreaking that she’d pitied him.

  “Your patience…and kindness…will be rewarded,” he’d said, although it wasn’t clear whom he was talking to—Pearl or Darcy.

  Not until George’s will was read by a lawyer from Greeley did Darcy realize he hadn’t provided for Pearl. He’d left everything to Darcy, which was a shock and hadn’t made her popular with anyone, especially his sons.

  Her father would say, “Finders keepers,” like any good cattle rustler.

  Her brother would say, “What a ride,” like any good car thief.

  And her mother would say, “Nice con,” like any good hustler.

  No wonder everyone in Sunshine hated Darcy. She had a family tree to fit her reputation as a woman who only had relationships with wealthy men. Didn’t matter that she’d only ever been with two men in her life, or that Jason hadn’t been wealthy when they first began dating. She was a Jones.

  Inheriting George’s assets was an unwelcome outcome of their marriage. Darcy planned to use a small portion of George’s savings to start somewhere new. And then she’d sign over the bank accounts and house to Rupert and Oliver on the condition that Pearl be allowed to live rent-free in the adjoining cottage if she desired.

  But that plan was now on hold. Darcy needed a roof over her head, preferably one with a gate to keep out the haters. And she suspected making a formal living arrangement with Pearl without gifting the main house to her stepsons would make those ripples George had wanted her to avoid.

  Darcy knelt to pet Stogey, who rolled onto his back so she could rub his tummy.

  “George doted on that dog.” Pearl carefully folded the robe, aligning seams and smoothing the wrinkles. And then she bent over and slapped her knees. “Come here, Stogey.”

  Stogey closed his eyes and stayed put.

  “Here, doggy-doggy-doggy,” Pearl crooned as if calling her cat.

  Darcy halted her tummy rub in case Stogey wanted to comply.

  He didn’t. He cracked one eye open but looked at Darcy, not Pearl.

  “That dog is as stubborn as George.” Pearl repeated her cat call.

  Fearing another upset, Darcy set Stogey on his feet. “Go on.”

  Dutifully, Stogey waddled forward and accepted Pearl’s pats, but he glanced over his shoulder at Darcy all the while.

  * * *

  Friday morning, luck was with Jason. The gate to the Harper fortress was open, providing clear access to the main house where Darcy lived and the small guest cottage Pearl was rumored to occupy.

  Jason was just climbing up the front steps of Judge Harper’s home when Darcy hurried out the front door with a gray-muzzled brown dog at her heels.

  She frowned at him. “Did Pearl let you in?” If anything, Darcy’s appearance was blander than yesterday, her brow more furrowed. She was practically wasting away in front of his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here, Jason.”

  “We need to talk,” he said gruffly because it was increasingly obvious that she needed someone to care for her. And he was determined that someone would be him.

  “Okay, but you only have until Stogey does his business. Come on, boy,” she crooned to the little brown dog, who tottered down the stairs. She led him to a low hedge. “How about here? You love it here.”

  It was a nice hedge in a yard that lacked the flowers Darcy had always dreamed of having. It was an impressive house, though. A rambling green midcentury modern with a circular drive, a large front porch, a portico on the side, and a garage in back. The old judge had given her things that Jason hadn’t been ready to—marriage and the home she’d always wanted, even if it wasn’t in the right flower-filled location.

  Jason’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He took it out and glanced at the screen. It was his agent again. With a press of a button, he sent Ken to voice mail. “I can do that at least,” he mumbled, thinking of Iggy and Clarice belittling his meager tech skills.

  At the hedge, Darcy fidgeted, hair a muted gold in the bright morning sunlight. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” He had more important things to talk about than his cell phone abilities. “Do you remember that weekend in Vegas? Last spring? After your law school graduation?”

  She scoffed, color rising in her cheeks. “I thought neither of us remembered much about that weekend.”

  “We had a lot to celebrate.” In addition to Darcy’s graduation, he’d won a particularly big purse and landed a large personal endorsement. “I was hungover for days.”

  “What about the lawn sprinkler head, Stogey? Don’t you want to mark your territory?” Darcy trotted over to the corner of the lawn near the curving concrete driveway. “Or the rock? The rock always deserves consideration.”

  Stogey took his time sniffing his way from the hedges to where Darcy stood. He walked gingerly, with a slight sway. In fact, his eyes looked a bit glassy.

  “What’s the rush?” Jason asked, straightening his red-checkered shirt. “Doesn’t the dog have a run or something he can hang out in?”

  “Stogey? Stay outside?” She laughed mirthlessly. “George would kill me.”

  “George…” Jason shifted his booted feet, cleared his throat, and resettled his cowboy hat on his head. “George is gone, honey.”

  Darcy flicked a sideways glance his way. “Stogey would have an anxiety attack. He hasn’t been himself since his oral surgery. He’s highly medicated and completely out of sorts. I can’t leave him outside alone.”

  As if to prove her point, Stogey lifted his leg and passed gas instead of urine.

  “I’m going to be late to work.” Darcy tapped her foot. Her black heels were low, and a disconnect from the sexy high heels he was used to seeing her wear.

  But her legs…Her legs still looked mighty fine.

  “Jason, tell me you didn’t drive all the way out here to discuss a weekend neither one of us remembers.”

  “I was headed to the breeding business this morning but here’s the thing…” Jason drew a breath. Say it. Just say it. Just say it. “While we were in Vegas that weekend, we did some crazy stuff.”

  “Jason.” Darcy heaved a sigh and faced him squarely. “Usually, it’s the woman who feeds a man that line, followed by I’m pregnant. Now, I know you aren’t pregnant, and neither am I, so—”

  “We got married.”

  The dog passed gas again.

  Darcy paled. “That…That can’t be. I’d know if we got married. We’d know if we got married. We’d have a license, a certificate, a paper trail.”

  “Everything was sent to my agent.” Apparently that was the address Jason had put down on their paperwork. “It took weeks to arrive.”

  “But that was…”

  “Last year. Yes.”

  “Which means when I married George…”

  “You became a bigamist. Yes.” He took no pride in pointing out she’d broken the law. He kne
w how much she wanted to prove to everyone that she was different from the Joneses.

  “But y-you…You never told me.”

  “I didn’t find out until weeks later, when Ken received the envelope. If you recall, I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t see me until—”

  “I picked up my things from your apartment,” she said slowly.

  “Where you told me that we were taking a break, not breaking up.” He allowed frustration to bleed into his words. “It totally blew my mind when I found out we were married. My agent told me right before a ride. I lost my concentration, and a bull stepped on me.” Fracturing his leg in multiple places. “When you said we were taking a break, I thought I’d bide my time and tell you we were married when the moment was right.”

  “And then you found out I’d married George.” She shifted her feet, again drawing his attention to her shapely legs.

  He took a few steps closer to her, fighting a nerve jolt that nearly made him stumble, biting back a curse because his leg seemed to be getting worse, not better.

  Darcy was staring at the dog and didn’t seem to notice. “Why didn’t you get it annulled?”

  He’d asked himself that many times. “I worried filing for divorce—”

  “Annulment.”

  “Divorce.” He tipped his hat back again, so far it nearly fell off. “Give me some credit, Darcy. Even I know, when you consummate your vows, you call it divorce.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Darcy closed her eyes for a moment. “We could file now.”

  Jason remained silent. He didn’t want to file for a divorce. He loved her. To heck with waiting for retirement to stake his claim.

  “No.” Darcy opened her eyes. “If we file now, I bet Rupert and Oliver would find out and then…” She reached out and shook Jason’s arm. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  The dog farted. Good timing, that dog. It gave Darcy pause, if only for a moment.

  And then she was back to arm shaking. “Jason.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “I won’t tell anyone on one condition.”

  Darcy smirked. “This better be good.”

  “My condition is simple, babe.” Jason tried to give her a reassuring smile. “That we talk. You can explain why you married George.” And he’d explain why their marriage should stand.

  “No.” She trotted across the grass to shoo Stogey from pissing on a garden gnome next to a small clump of flowery weeds, the only blooms in the yard. It was apparently the one area that was off-limits. “No.”

  “No, Stogey, don’t pee on that?” he wondered aloud. “Or No, Jason, I don’t want to talk?”

  “No on both counts.” Darcy glared at him, blue eyes flashing.

  “This point is nonnegotiable.” He was finally wedging a foot back into the door she’d closed when she married George. For the first time in over a year, he had the upper hand.

  He was going to keep that winning position for longer than the eight seconds it took a bull rider to score.

  Chapter Six

  Bigamist.

  This Jones apple hadn’t fallen so far from the tree after all.

  What would her stepsons think about that? Darcy shuddered to think.

  But she was married. They were married.

  Darcy squelched the sudden silver-lining notion that being married to Jason gave her bedroom rights. Just because she had rights didn’t mean she should exercise them.

  Rightly so, George said in her head.

  Darcy didn’t like the way George intruded into her thoughts about Jason. But she was running late. “Stogey, no scratching the door today.” She tried to use her best sentencing voice, the one she’d been practicing in the bathroom mirror. She shut the pocket door between the dining room with its stuffy cherry furniture and the kitchen with its soft lemon-colored cabinets.

  Stogey grumbled. Not a good sign.

  Darcy gathered her purse and car keys from the butcher-block counter.

  He sat on her foot. Also not a good sign.

  She made the mistake of looking at him, staring into those big, brown, worshipful eyes. She’d never had a dog before moving in here. How did owners leave them every day and go to work? She had to look away, dislodge her foot, and scurry out the door, feeling like a louse.

  Stogey howled. There was a scrabbling noise. And then the scratching began.

  Darcy froze on the bottom step of the portico.

  “Someone sounds upset.” Bitsy Whitlock, Pearl’s daughter, walked up the driveway, looking 1980s chic.

  “Stogey’s going through a rough time.” As were they all. Bigamist. Darcy clung to her purse strap, trying to hold in her secrets. “Are you looking for Pearl? She’s not here.”

  “Mama just left for work,” Bitsy said amiably.

  Darcy hadn’t interacted much with Pearl’s daughter until George’s death. But Bitsy had never treated Darcy as if she were a homewrecker. And for that, she was grateful.

  “I stopped by to see you, Darcy.”

  Uh-oh.

  Stogey’s efforts increased. His howls became higher pitched and the scratching sped up. It was heartrending.

  “I…uh…” Darcy tried to speak as if no small, furry creature were having a hard time being left behind. “I don’t have much time to talk this morning. I…Oh, I can’t do it.” She caved, opened the kitchen door, and let the distressed stinker out. He was shaking and smelled like upset stomach. She sat on the top step and deposited Stogey into her lap, resigning herself to being late. “What a way to start my first day as Judge Harper.”

  “Go easy on yourself. It’s normal to have good and bad days after a loss.” Bitsy took a seat on a lower step nearby. “Can you spare a minute? I’m worried about Mama.”

  “Me too.” Darcy rubbed Stogey’s brown velvety ears. It calmed both of them.

  Stogey heaved a shuddering sigh.

  “What my mother had with George was unique. I get that.”

  I cherished her, George murmured mournfully in Darcy’s head, but I screwed up.

  “I know it sounds odd for me to say but you probably know…” Darcy considered her next words carefully. “George loved her deeply. It crushed him when she turned down his proposal of marriage.”

  “The same way Jason crushed your dreams,” Bitsy said with a knowing nod. “I suppose, in a way, the two of you getting married made sense.”

  “Yes,” Darcy said evasively. Everyone had been curious about her marriage, but they really only wanted to know one thing: Had she slept with the old man?

  Props to me, George said, coming out of his funk.

  Darcy chose to let that remark slide.

  “I was hoping you could help me,” Bitsy said in that soothing way of hers, rumored to have been developed over years in the customer service department at the cable company in Greeley. “Mama worries me. Do you have any ideas about how to help her get over her grief?”

  “No.” But how sweet of Bitsy to ask. This was the way families should be—caring for each other, lifting each other up in hard times. No doubt it was easier to be supportive when one wasn’t locked behind steel bars.

  “Bummer.” Bitsy sighed. She wore a black velvet hair band on her bright-blond bob and a daintily flowered sweater set with white capris. Her ensemble accented her figure without saying, Look at my feminine wiles.

  But she’s not a judge, George pointed out.

  But she’s what I aspired to when I married you—fashionably classy. Darcy had overshot the mark and landed squarely in the church lady department.

  George harrumphed.

  “What’s that?” Bitsy asked.

  Had Darcy made a noise? Spoken out loud? She rushed on. “I’ve heard it’s easier to diagnose a problem when you’re on the outside looking in. But this is complicated. Pearl isn’t really a widow, and I’m…”

  A bigamist.

  Criminy. She almost said it out loud.

  Darcy stared at the expanse of back lawn sloping down to the pond. She’d always consi
dered the yard plain. The one time she’d suggested adding clusters of planters and flowers, George had admonished her to worry about her studies. But now, she wondered how it would look.

  It would look darn hard to care for, George snapped.

  “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” Bitsy adjusted her sweater on her shoulders. “We both know Mama’s squatting. You’ve been more than kind. I just wish I knew what to say to her.”

  She needs to forgive me, George piped up.

  And you’re just now realizing this?

  If ghostly voices in her head could silently fume, George was fuming.

  Stogey belched, reminding Darcy there were really only two people in this conversation and imaginary George wasn’t one of them.

  “I’m sorry, Bitsy. I’m a little distracted this morning.” By bigamy and remorseful dead spouses.

  “How are you feeling about being appointed judge?” Bitsy asked politely.

  Darcy’s gut response was to admit she was completely out of her element.

  Don’t sell yourself short, George snapped.

  Darcy tugged her ear, trying to turn George’s voice off. “I’m still in shock. Do I blame myself or George for the corner I’m backed into?”

  What corner? You were headed for a life as a pregnant hausfrau, not a lawyer. I rescued you from that cowboy! George was angrier in her head than she’d ever heard him—dead or alive.

  Darcy moved her hand from her ear to her temple. Was she really hearing George in her head? She’d never had thoughts like this in her life.

  It had to be real because George wasn’t done. When Jason’s mistake was televised, I knew the time had come to save you from yourself. Now you’re in a position to make a difference in this town and what do you do? Doubt! Hesitate! Grab hold of your confidence and get on with it.

  “George could really set a person’s teeth on edge,” Darcy said, gritting her own. She had to find a way to deal with him the way she had when he was alive. “And I don’t want to appear ungrateful because”—Are you listening, George?—“even though we didn’t marry for love, we made each other happy.”