by Susan Crosby
She’d gone all stoic on him, sitting with her hands folded, chin up and eyes straight ahead. “You’re right.”
Of course he was right. But he didn’t want to be right. He wanted to be one half of a partnership. Traditionally the man was the one with the shotgun pointed at him, but she was acting like it was pointed at her, forcing her into marriage—or at least living their marriage publicly.
“Our child isn’t going to get talked about,” he said. “We were married when it was conceived. No one can say otherwise.”
“You’re right,” she repeated. “I was being selfish. I apologize.” She stood. “I have work to do. I have a shipment to get ready for pickup at three o’clock to be taken to San Francisco.”
“I’ll help.”
After a moment she nodded, then she started to walk past him. He caught her, drew her into his arms and held her. She fought him for a couple of seconds, then she tightened her hold and pressed her face into his shoulder.
“We’re in this together, Jen,” he said.
“Okay.”
They spent the rest of the day working side by side and lost in their own thoughts about the conversations ahead of them tonight.
We don’t have to get married, you know, she had said. That hurt more than anything, he decided. She’d always said she loved him, even though it had made him uncomfortable to hear those words. Apparently that was no longer the case. So now it would be an uphill battle, and he didn’t like battles. But it looked like he was in for a few.
By five o’clock, it felt like the longest day of his life—and there was still more to go.
Chapter Seven
“Do your parents know I’m showing up here with you?” Win asked as they parked in front of the homestead that evening.
Jenny stared at the house, not anxious to go inside. “I said I was bringing someone along, but not who. Listen, I’ve been thinking about the whole honesty business. I don’t think we should tell them about the divorce. Why muddy the waters further?”
“Then they’ll have questions about why we kept the marriage a secret all this time. Either way, it isn’t good.”
“But if we tell them you didn’t file the paperwork, they’ll be even madder at you. This way, they can be upset at both of us equally.”
“No.” He put a hand over hers. “Honesty.”
“They’ll ask you why you didn’t file the papers.” She’d like to know the reason herself.
He opened his door without answering then was at her door before she could hop down.
“I feel like I need to knock. Isn’t that weird?” she whispered. “We’re here!” she called out as she opened the door.
Her parents were sitting on the sofa in the living room, holding hands. It took barely a second for them to register who Jenny had brought along. They stood.
“You remember Win,” Jenny said, forcing out the words.
Win moved forward and offered his hand to each of them. “Evenin’.”
Her parents nodded but said nothing.
“Maybe we could sit down?” Jenny said.
“This is a surprise, seeing you together,” her mother said as everyone took their seats. “Are you dating?”
“More than that,” Win said, taking over. “We’re married.”
“The hell you are.” Her father shot up, so Win did, too.
“For four years,” Jenny said.
“Four—?” Her mother shook her head. “That’s impossible. You wouldn’t keep something like that from us.”
“She thought we were divorced,” Win said.
Jenny saw her father’s hands fist. “Let’s just sit down and talk, please. All of us,” she said. “I’m going to tell you the facts, and then we’ll fill in the details.”
She looked at Win and was suddenly filled with love—the remembered young love of an eighteen-year-old and a more mature love now. She was sorry he’d been trapped—twice—by her, yet he was taking it like the man he was, a strong, capable, honorable man.
“Win and I had a relationship during the summer before I went to college. I got pregnant.” She ignored her mother’s gasp and kept talking, the words pouring out. “We got married. Then I miscarried. We filed for divorce, and I went to college. When I came home in June, we slept together again. And now I’m pregnant. And Win never filed the divorce papers, so we’re still married.”
There. She’d yanked off the bandage. She tried to smile at Win when he wrapped his hand around hers and held tight.
“I know you have questions,” Jenny said.
“I don’t understand the secrecy,” her mother said, hurt in her eyes. “I don’t understand why you didn’t feel you could talk to us about this.”
“We were about to,” Win said, “when we lost the baby. We were young and stupid, that’s all.”
And we didn’t talk to each other about what we wanted, Jenny thought, remembering.
“That’s where your parents come in,” her father said. “We’re neither young nor stupid. We would’ve helped.”
“My mother had died,” Win said. “I wasn’t in a good place. My father would’ve made things worse.”
“It just seemed better to keep it to ourselves,” Jenny said. “We still would have if I hadn’t gotten pregnant again.”
“How far along are you, sweetheart?” Dori asked.
“Six weeks. I’ll save you trying to figure it out. It was my first day back.”
“Obviously what you have is powerful,” her mother said hesitantly, putting a hand on her husband’s thigh when he glowered. “What are your plans?”
“I’m telling my father tonight,” Win said. “I’ll move in with Jen at the farm right after.”
“Like hell you will,” her father said, more of a growl than anything else.
“There needs to be a ceremony,” Dori said, giving her husband a quelling look. “Something public.”
“But we’re already married,” Win said.
“Then a renewal of vows, so your families can take part.”
“And her mother can see her daughter get married, as she’s always wanted,” her father said. “She’s dreamed of this for longer than you have, Jen.”
Jenny looked at Win. “It sounds reasonable,” he said. “As long as it’s soon. Very soon.”
“I can pull together something nice in a week,” Dori said. “A week from tomorrow. Saturday. Here at the homestead.”
“And you don’t move in with my daughter until then,” Jim said.
“Hold on,” Jenny said. “You can’t—”
Win interrupted, making eye contact with her father. “She’s living out there alone, with no neighbor in sight. She’s pregnant. She miscarried once before. I need to be there.”
“She can move back home for the week,” her father said in a tone indicating there would be no further discussion on the matter.
“And during the week, you’ll come here for dinner, Win, and we can get to know you,” Dori said. “Tomorrow night the family will gather, and you’ll announce it to everyone. Please extend the invitation to your father and sister.”
“He won’t come,” Win said.
“Invite him anyway. Tell your sister to come without him. There can be peace between us, Win,” her mother said.
After a moment, he nodded.
“Well,” Dori said. “This has been quite an evening. I admit I’ve wondered for years why you never talked about a boy, Jenny, or brought one home.”
“Why didn’t you file for the divorce?” her father asked Win, apparently not willing to give up the discussion like her mother was.
Win looked at the floor a minute before he spoke. “I can tell you that I don’t honestly know, because that’s the closest thing to the truth. I procrastinat
ed, and then procrastinated some more. The only reason I even considered a divorce was for Jen’s sake. I believe she would’ve given up college and stayed here. I didn’t want her to.”
“So you would’ve remained married?” Jim asked.
Jenny held her breath.
“She was legally mine. We’d created a child together, which made it even more permanent. Not that these thoughts ran through my head then. I was a confused kid. I just knew I didn’t want to get in her way. But I didn’t want to give her up, either. In my head, we were married, and that was that.”
After a moment, Jim nodded, as if satisfied. “I don’t envy you your next conversation.”
“Thank you, sir.” He stood. “Better to get it done with. I’ll be back later.”
“I need to get some of my stuff from the farmhouse,” Jenny said.
“Your mother and I will take you while Win is gone.”
“I’m thinking maybe I should move into the farmhouse for the week,” Win said. “I’m sure Annie doesn’t like it empty.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I’ll call her,” Win said, then he shook hands with her father. Her mother gave him a hug, which brought a lump to Jenny’s throat.
She followed Win out to the porch.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“You were right. Honest was better. You’re okay with having the ceremony?”
“It’s a good plan, all around.” Win was surprised how much the idea appealed to him. As soon as Dori mentioned it, he’d relaxed. It had signaled her acceptance of the situation. “Did you miss having a ceremony the first time? That quick visit to the chapel in Reno wasn’t much for memories.”
“I missed having my family there. As for the rest, maybe a little. I’d never wanted anything big or fancy. Saturday will be perfect.” She put a hand on his chest. “I wouldn’t mind going with you to your dad’s, Win.”
“I know. It’ll be ugly. I don’t want you there. See you later.”
It was fifteen miles to Morgan Ranch. He thought about the stark difference between the Ryder homestead, which he hadn’t been inside until tonight, and his family’s home, which paled in comparison. What warmth there’d been had gone cold with his mother’s passing. Rose tried her hardest, but their father wasn’t open to change, neither structural nor cosmetic.
The front door opened as Win reached the top porch step.
“Where the hell have you been?” his father shouted.
“I left you a message. I was dealing with a personal matter.” He walked past his father, saw his sister watching TV. She got up to leave.
“Don’t go, Rose. I need to talk to both of you,” Win said. “Let me take care of this first.” He took the box of produce from the farm into the kitchen, tossed the lettuce into the refrigerator. The rest could wait.
Like Jenny, Win simply recited the facts.
With every sentence, his father’s face turned a little harder, a little redder. “So you flat-out lied to me at the farmers’ market when I asked if you’d taken a liking to the Ryder girl. And you’ve been lying for four years.”
“Her name is Jenny, not ‘the Ryder girl,’ and she’s my wife, so technically she’s ‘the Morgan girl.’ Her parents are hosting a party for the family tomorrow night to announce we’re having a ceremony to renew our vows next Saturday, family only. You’re invited. You, too, Rose.”
His shy sister glanced nervously at their father. Her brown eyes were filled with apprehension, her slender body stiff with tension.
“Hell will freeze over before I step one foot in that man’s house,” his father said. “And you just killed your chance of inheriting any part of my ranch. You’ll have a job, but nothing more.”
He stalked past Win and went straight to his bedroom at the back of the house, slamming the door behind him.
“That went better than I hoped,” Win said to Rose, who smiled uneasily. He hadn’t expected to inherit the ranch anyway. “Will you come to the party, Rose? Dad’ll be mad if you do, but it sure would be nice to have at least one member of my family there.”
“I always liked Jenny. She was very kind to me when Mom died. You know, we’d gone to school together since kindergarten, and while we didn’t hang out in the same group, she talked to me like I wasn’t a Morgan.”
Win laughed at that. “Will you come? I’ll pick you up if he won’t let you use the truck.”
“Okay.” She blew out a breath.
He hugged her. “Thanks. It means a lot to me.”
“Where will you live?”
“At Annie Ryder’s farm. I’ll take my belongings with me tonight.” The fact he was twenty-six years old and his only belongings were his truck and some clothes seemed almost pathetic, he thought. But then, he did have a sizeable bank account since he hadn’t spent his wages on anything costly. He wouldn’t be coming to the relationship empty-handed.
“Jenny won’t join me at the farm until after the ceremony next weekend.”
Rose smiled. “Her dad insisted on that condition, I imagine.”
“That would be putting it mildly. Well, I need to get going.” He started out the door, anxious to get his things from the bunkhouse, then he turned around. “Make him buy you a car of your own. You’ve earned it.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Be brave, Rose. You can’t take care of him forever. You deserve a life of your own. And feel free to stop by the farm anytime. You’ll always be welcome.”
Win went out into the cool night where he could breathe again. The worst was over. Now he could focus on the future. He was going to be a father, a much different one than his own.
Still...he’d wanted to be supported by his father, like Jenny was by her family. It stung more than he wanted to admit, having him stalk off and slam the door.
When Win arrived at the homestead, Jenny and Dori were in the kitchen concocting something. He didn’t wait for them to ask how it went but said, “I think Rose may come tomorrow, but my father won’t.”
After a short silence, Jim asked, “Are you hungry?”
That was it? No more questions? “I could eat.”
“The girls are fixing tacos.”
“Sounds good.”
“Maybe Win would like a tour of the house,” her mother said, elbowing Jenny. “I’ll finish up here.”
Jenny led him through a doorway. “Are you all right?” she asked.
I don’t stand to inherit any part of the ranch, but... “Everything’s good. Which room’s yours?”
She walked him down a hall with a lot of doors. On the hallway walls were paintings of each Ryder child on a horse when they were five or six, he guessed.
“Is this your room?” he asked, spotting a painting of a little cowgirl on a horse, hanging next to a doorway. He knew it was her, not her sister, right away. There was that same wide smile and a look in her eyes that warned of impishness. A red cowboy hat draped down her back.
“My room hasn’t changed since high school,” she said, as if apologizing.
It did look like a teenager’s room, with memorabilia scattered around and posters on the walls. He smiled at one of Cinderella scrubbing the floor with mice around her. “No prince?” he asked.
“I thought that was the most unbelievable part of the story.” She shrugged. “We earn our way, not have a prince drop into our lives and take care of us.”
Win knew it was going to be an uphill battle with her. She would want to work until she gave birth. She wouldn’t be good at putting her feet up at night—or during the day—unless the doctor ordered it. Win wanted to take care of her, be her true prince, not some fantasy from a fairy tale.
He was terrified she would miscarry again, afraid of not only losing the baby, but her, too, if there was no baby to keep t
hem together. She was his. He wouldn’t let that change.
“Dinner’s ready!” Dori called out.
He was about to take Jenny into his arms for a second, but she said, “I’m starved,” and walked past him, leaving him to follow and to face his first dinner with her parents. His in-laws.
That was going to take some getting used to.
Chapter Eight
Even amid the whirlwind ceremony plans, Jenny managed to work the farm. Although she was sick every morning, she was happy working in the gardens and the greenhouses, tasks that soothed her, giving her chaotic thoughts a place to land.
She and her mother had debated about an appropriate dress for the ceremony. Dori wanted her to wear a wedding gown. They compromised on a full-skirted, calf-length dress in ivory silk with lace trim. She wanted to wear boots but her sister-in-law Karyn talked her out of it, loaning Jenny her rhinestone-studded high heels.
A renewal-of-vows ceremony didn’t require a minister or a legal official, so her brother Vaughn volunteered to preside. He’d asked Jenny and Win to write something personal that he could use, but neither of them felt comfortable doing so. They planned a brief ceremony then a small party afterward, with only family attending.
The day of the ceremony Jenny waited in her bedroom for someone to come tell her it was time. She sniffed her bouquet, a combination of blooms from Annie’s garden and a few roses from her mother’s garden. They weren’t having attendants, and her parents wouldn’t be walking her down the aisle they’d created in the garden, although she wished someone was going to walk with her. She’d never worn such high heels before. Plus she was nervous beyond measure.
A knock on the door startled her. She opened it to find Win standing there.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his gaze admiring. “And tall.”
She laughed. “Karyn’s shoes. You look quite handsome yourself.” He wore a black Western suit, white shirt, plus a new black Stetson. He looked more than handsome. She touched the silver bolo tie at his throat, her wedding gift to him the first time around. She was pleased he wore it now.
“What are you doing here, Win?”
