Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Elizabeth Rolls

  Connor released her arm.

  She knelt down, scooped up William and balanced him on her hip while brushing a kiss on his fuzzy head of golden curls.

  “Is he yours?” Connor asked, his gaze going to her hands.

  Looking for a wedding ring. He wouldn’t find one. Not on her finger. She bit her lips together and tucked William’s head beneath her chin. “No. He’s not mine.”

  “Where is his mother?”

  “She is with Gretchen.”

  He nodded and glanced toward the greenhouses. “Delivering flowers.”

  That would have been easy enough for him to figure out, especially if he’d spoken to anyone in Twin Pines. “Yes.”

  “Who is in the house?” he asked, looking that way.

  “No one of your concern.”

  His movements were slow, nothing more than his head turning toward her, and his eyes capturing hers. “You’re wrong. It is of my concern, because I’m making it my concern.” Arms folded across his chest, he asked, “Front door, or back door?”

  “Front.” There were chairs there, where he could wait while she carried William inside for Rachel and Lora to keep an eye on until she could convince Connor to leave.

  And never return.

  He walked beside her, arms at his sides as if ready to grab her if she attempted to bolt, around the house, past the big flower bed, up the front steps, all the way to the door.

  “Would you care for anything to drink?” she asked, only to show him that he didn’t intimidate her.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.” He pulled open the screen door.

  She grasped the knob of the front door before he could. “You can wait here—I’ll be right back.”

  He looked at her, at William, at the front door, more than once before he huffed out a breath long and slow.

  She’d been holding her breath so long, she was growing dizzy, but didn’t dare empty her lungs. Not yet. She couldn’t let him in the house. Couldn’t let him see Lora or Rachel. He’d have even more questions then. Questions she couldn’t answer. Too many lives depended on secrecy.

  “Keep the door open,” he said. “I watched you disappear into this house once, and won’t do it again.”

  The air eased out of her, slowly, completely, and she couldn’t stop from saying, “I didn’t disappear.”

  His eyes hardened.

  “I’ll be right back.” She opened the door and stepped inside the house. Leaving the door partially opened, she gestured for Rachel to come take William. “Take him upstairs, and stay there,” she whispered while nodding at Lora who stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. “You, too.”

  Rachel took William and carried him into the kitchen. Upon hearing their footsteps on the stairs, which never failed to creak, Jenny glanced at the clock on the mantel. She had less than an hour to get rid of Connor before Emily returned home from school.

  Huffing out a breath, she squared her shoulders, only to feel them slump. She had no idea what she needed right now, but hoped the Good Lord did and gave her whatever it might be, along with the strength she needed.

  Connor still had hold of the screen door and slowly closed it after she’d stepped past him and walked over to the set of white wicker furniture that she’d sewn new cushions for during the long winter hours. Blue-and-white-striped cushions for both of the armchairs, the rocking chair, and one long cushion and two arm pillows for the small sofa. The furniture had been repainted, white, over the winter, as well. She’d also sewn small tablecloths for the two round tables that completed the set.

  She’d done all that, along with hundreds of other things over the years because this was her and Emily’s home. Where they belonged. “Are you sure you wouldn’t care for something to drink?” she asked while sitting down in one of the armchairs, feeling the strength she’d acquired years ago. She was no longer that young, foolish girl Connor had lied to.

  “I’m not thirsty.” He sat in the chair facing her. “But thanks.”

  “Have you sold any telephones in this area?” she asked, not giving him the opportunity to bring up the topic he was sure to bring up. Her. What she was doing here. Why she’d never returned to Rochester.

  He leaned back and rested one ankle on his opposite knee. “Yes, several. The line will run all the way to Syracuse.”

  “That’s nice. I’m glad—”

  “What are you doing here, Jenny? How long have you been here?”

  So much for avoiding that topic. Jenny willed herself to not react to his sincerity and concern. Those were just two of the things that had always made him endearing. She threaded her fingers together, squeezing them as they threatened to tremble, and set her hands in her lap. “I can’t tell you that, Connor.”

  Anger once again snapped in his eyes. “Why not? What the hell is going on? Are you being held here against your will?”

  “No.”

  Clear disbelief shone in his eyes.

  There was a sense of panic in her insides, but she managed to tamp it down a mite. “This is my home,” she said. “Has been for years. I love it here. I love the flowers and the—” She snapped her mouth shut before saying the girls. “The quietness.”

  Connor dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his gaze locked on her. “Jenny,” he said softly. “I’m here for the truth. All of it. If you need help, I’m here for that, too.”

  At that moment, Jenny was amazed at how deeply her feelings went for Connor. Even after all these years. She’d tried so hard to forget him, but couldn’t. The only thing she could do was blame him, and had to do that again now, because it was his fault. If he hadn’t broken up with her in such an underhanded way, she never would have ended up pregnant. When she’d first been sequestered at the home for unwed mothers, she’d dreamed of him arriving there, saying those exact words, and of course that dream had also included him taking her away, loving her. Living happily-ever-after.

  Those dreams had been foolish, because she’d still been young and foolish then. She wasn’t now. She’d saved herself, and Emily, with the help of Gretchen, and was now helping Gretchen save other girls. “I don’t need your help, Connor. I don’t need anyone’s help. I have a wonderful life here. I wouldn’t change anything about it.”

  He leaned back in his chair again, stared at her thoughtfully. “Where are your parents?”

  Her spine stiffened. “Why?”

  “Just curious. After the camera company burned, they moved, and I never heard where.”

  She kept her chin up, her insides calm, and was amazed at how easy that was. She’d heard at some point that her stepfather’s company had burned, nearly to the ground, but she hadn’t cared, and still didn’t. They’d disowned her the night they’d delivered her to Albany. “South,” she said. It was as good of a guess as any. Then, taking advantage of the subject, she asked, “How is your family?”

  He remained silent, staring at her, then shook his head. “Good.”

  Jenny couldn’t really expand on that. She had only met his parents a couple of times. The time she and Connor had spent together had been all about each other, not their families. He had a twin brother, Patrick. They looked similar, but were as opposite as day and night. The Rochester school had been large, with well over a hundred students in every class, and his brother hadn’t been involved in school activities like Connor had been. He’d been on the baseball team, the hockey team, the tennis team and dramatics and music. He’d called his brother Mick rather than Patrick, and had said that Mick was always working with their father, at the family business, a large food company. Connor had been glad that he didn’t have to, and could pursue his dream of creating a phone company.

  He’d always said that there wasn’t room for both him and Mick at the family business, and that telephones were the wave of the future, but the McCormicks’ text
ile company was very large. “Do you really work for the Rural Rochester Phone Company?” she asked.

  A flicker of something flashed in his eyes before he answered. “Yes, I do. Ever since it opened. Lines are being extended all the way to Syracuse this year.”

  “Are they?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  An awkward silence ensued, as if neither of them knew what to say. At least she didn’t. He looked much the same, but had obviously grown into a man over the years, just as she’d grown into a woman. That was as natural a process as it was complex. She’d discovered that long ago.

  “Do you remember Wilbur Cook?” he asked.

  She hadn’t thought of others from school for ages—for several reasons—yet at the sound of the name, a memory of a gangly figure formed in her mind, with curly red hair and crooked teeth, who had been a close friend of Connor’s. “He played in the band with you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did. He’s with the philharmonic orchestra in New York now. Did you know he married your friend Marjorie Conklin?”

  Instantly transported back to her bedroom years ago, laughing with her best friend, Jenny slapped a hand to her chest as her heart filled with warmth. “Marjorie? No?”

  “Yes. They live in New York City, obviously, and have two kids.”

  Jenny’s heart nearly doubled in size, knowing that Marjorie would be a wonderful mother. She’d been the one person Jenny had ached to tell what had happened, needing someone to confide in, but her mother had asked if she was pregnant, even before Jenny had thought of that consequence, and she’d been banished. Hauled away and disowned.

  She’d often wondered what her mother had told Marjorie, sure her friend would have been curious, and concerned.

  “And that other friend of yours, the one with black, curly hair. She married Seth O’Brien. He works with me at the phone company.”

  “Frances Dowling?” Jenny asked, glad to chase away the bad memories floating forward. Franny had lived just up the street from her, and was older than her, the same age as Connor, but they had walked to and from school together every day. Franny had made those journeys fun, whether it had been warm and sunny or cold and blustery.

  “Yes. Franny.” He grinned. “They have four kids. Just had the fourth one last month. A girl.”

  Franny, too, would be a wonderful mother, and Jenny couldn’t help but wonder if Franny’s children were as outgoing as their mother. “Do they live in Rochester?”

  “Yes, they do, over on Fourth Avenue.”

  “What about Ruth Isler or Helen Kane?” she asked, growing curious about more names and images popping into her head.

  “I don’t believe I knew them,” he said, with a thoughtful frown. “The names aren’t ringing any bells.”

  “You may not have known them. They were younger than me and lived in my neighborhood. What about Gina Rivers?”

  He laughed. “You aren’t going to believe it, but she ran off with a circus that came to town. Fell in love with the lion tamer. Last I heard, she’s riding elephants and swinging on trapeze ropes.”

  She laughed aloud. “Baloney!”

  * * *

  “I kid you not!” Connor said, fully captured by her laughter. In that moment he saw the Jenny he used to know. The one with a spirit so bright, so bold, she’d made every part of him come alive the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Wanting that Jenny to return, fully, he kept talking about other people they both had known in school. It had been that way right from the start between the two of them, the way they could talk, about anything.

  They both laughed several times while discussing other people they’d known back then. It appeared as if she hadn’t kept in touch with anyone. He kept bringing up names until he couldn’t think of any more.

  He had memories he could bring up, many of the two of them, but his instincts said if he did so, she’d clam up. There was a lot going on here, more than what met the eye. She wasn’t going to willingly tell him, not yet anyway. The patience that he’d gotten a taste of the past couple of days was going to have to be something he got used to for a while longer.

  Connor had purposefully brought up Franny earlier, knowing that her friend hadn’t heard from Jenny since she’d left all those years ago, to live with family. That’s all her mother had ever told anyone. That Jenny had gone to live with family out of state and wouldn’t return to Rochester.

  Nodding toward the house, he asked, “How are you related to Gretchen?”

  “Related?”

  His question had caught her off guard, the way her eyes had widened and her hesitancy made that clear. “That’s what your mother said, that you went to live with family. Out of state.”

  She pinched her lips together and looked everywhere but at him before finally saying, “I’m not related to Gretchen, by blood, but we are family, and I have a lot to do before she returns today.”

  Connor wanted to push for more, but like when dealing with potential customers, he knew when to back off. He would have to gain her trust—that would be the only way he’d get the truth. The entire truth. “It’s good seeing you, Jenny. I’ve missed you.”

  She stood, and once again avoided any eye contact. “Yes, well, I hope you sell a lot of telephones.”

  He stood and took a hold of her hand, which trembled. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, where her pulse raced, despite how calm she pretended to appear. A smile formed inside him, and he let it rise onto his lips as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She wasn’t as unaffected by him as she was pretending, which gave him hope. Without another word, he turned to walk down the steps.

  He hadn’t gotten the answers he’d been searching for when he’d arrived, but he did gain insight, and that insight said Jenny wasn’t nearly as happy as she’d tried to make him believe.

  Each step Connor took toward his car became more difficult to take. He’d never let anyone know how deeply Jenny’s disappearance had affected him. They’d only been dating for a short time when summer had arrived and a phone company that had been interested in two models of telephones that he’d invented had invited him to spend the summer in New York City, working for them. He’d been torn about going, about leaving her even for almost three months. He’d had to go, though. It had been his opportunity to show his father that he might not have been the oldest, the one destined for greatness, but that he too was going to be a success. All on his own. Without the help of the McCormick name. That had been another thing he’d always kept hidden. Being the second best.

  He hadn’t told Jenny that, or that he was leaving until the night before he left, because he’d been afraid. If she’d have asked him not to go, he wouldn’t have gone. He’d been that infatuated with her. In fact, she’d made him want to go, want to succeed, even more. For their future. He’d already been dreaming about that.

  Arriving home and finding her gone had been devastating. He’d still been looking for answers as to where she could have gone and why, when the rest of his world went haywire. His father had died in an automobile accident.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Connor arrived at his car and climbed inside, pulled the door closed. He didn’t start the engine. Life had changed so much after his father’s death. Loss became a norm. One he’d had to learn to accept. That’s what had happened. He’d had to accept his father’s death, and accept that Jenny was gone, too.

  One had been as hard as the other.

  His senior year in high school was little more than a blur of memories. On the outside, he’d gone on being the Connor he’d always been. The happy-go-lucky guy who never let anything get him down, while inside he’d been in the darkest place he’d ever been.

  The summer after graduation, he’d started his phone company. By then, that dream had become the only one he’d had left. It had helped. Focusing on anything would have helped. For him, the focus had proven succes
sful; within in a year, he’d patented two other telephone models, which had given him the capital to run his first telephone lines. It had all been smooth sailing since then.

  As far as business was concerned.

  His personal life hadn’t been quite as successful. He’d pushed on, despite the emptiness inside him. An emptiness he hadn’t let show, but it had been there. A void left by Jenny’s disappearance as much as by his father’s death.

  Death was easier to come to grips with. Though tragic, death was a natural process of life.

  Jenny’s leaving had just been tragic.

  The void that had left didn’t feel as large now, and he anticipated that it would shrink a little bit each time he saw her, until all was resolved. He didn’t dare dream as to what that resolution might all entail. Not yet. But couldn’t deny he was glad to have found her.

  A plume of dust appeared on the road ahead of where his car was parked, and a moment later, he recognized it as a Ford school bus. Made mostly of wood and painted yellow, the bus slowed and then stopped near the end of Jenny’s driveway.

  Curious to see how many other children, besides the baby, lived at the house, he watched and waited.

  After some time, a little girl jumped out of the back of the bus and walked around it, a mere few feet away from his car.

  Connor’s skin turned cold at the girl’s long, dark brown hair. It was more than her hair. Her features, her movements. She was a miniature Jenny. An exact replica. Just much smaller, younger. Maybe six or so.

  Six.

  Yes, that’s how old children were when they started school.

  Six.

  He shook his head, trying hard to dispel the direction his mind was going. That’s where it went, though. To Jenny having a six-year-old daughter as his gaze followed the little girl all the way to where Jenny was standing, arms open.

  The girl and Jenny embraced, briefly, before Jenny noticed his car partially hidden by the shrubbery. She then grasped the girl’s hand and hurried up the driveway.