What a Woman Wants

by Tori Carrington

  Darby stared at him as if he had made the vehement announcement. Because if there was one thing she was sure of, she hadn’t said the word. Her heart was too busy doing a silly little dance for her to have responded in any manner.

  Reality sank in and every one of her muscles went on alert. If the word hadn’t come from her or John, who had said it? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

  She pried her gaze from John’s sincere face to find Erin standing in the kitchen doorway. Her tiny frame was tense and battle-ready, her angelic face drawn and tight. Both hands were curled into fists at her sides and she shook as she repeated the word, as if the entire farm outside hadn’t heard her the first time. The passion behind her exclamation made the hair on Darby’s arm stand on end, made her stomach squeeze ominously. Extricating her hands from John’s, she somehow managed to stumble to her feet, and then wondered why the floor suddenly seemed to be swaying. Then she realized that the floor wasn’t, she was.

  Not a good sign.

  “Erin!” she said, her tone one of reprimand. Her gaze darted from her daughter’s flushed face to John, who stared at the tablecloth as if afraid it had come alive and was about to smother him.

  The six-year-old’s entire stance seemed to crackle with electricity as she pointed a stiff finger in John’s direction. “You are not going to marry him. You’re not!”

  Of course that had been Darby’s own response only minutes ago. But hearing it come from her daughter’s young mouth was completely different. Erin’s aberrant behavior all day left her drained and confused and just a tad angry.

  “Why not?”

  As John asked the question, Darby stared at him as if he’d grown another head. He’d lifted his gaze from the table and now stood next to her, looking at Erin with infinite patience.

  “Because my daddy’s coming back, that’s why.”

  A strangled sound erupted from Darby’s throat as every moment of the past year swept through her mind. From that terrible phone call in the middle of the night telling her Erick was dead, to the funeral where she’d clutched the twins to her so tightly she’d been afraid she’d break them, to the here and now and everything that had happened in between. She wouldn’t exactly classify the past year as easy. It had been everything but. But she never, ever, would have thought that either one of her daughters would have a doubt about the permanent absence of their father.

  “He is coming back. He is,” Erin whispered again, moisture sparkling in her wide brown eyes, her crushed expression making Darby feel as if she’d just run over the family dog with her truck. “And that means you can’t marry anyone.”

  Looking much like a rag doll in need of cuddling, Erin turned on her heel and trudged from the room and all the way back up the stairs. Movement nearby drew Darby’s attention. She watched as an eerily silent Lindy stepped from the shadows of the living room, her gaze confused and vulnerable as she turned and followed her sister up the stairs.

  Darby’s stomach roiled ominously. Unlike when she was pregnant with the twins, the first three months of this pregnancy had been so far uneventful.

  She had the awful sensation that was about to change.

  “Excuse me,” she said softly. “I think I’m going to be sick….”

  Chapter Five

  Saturday. Usually Darby’s favorite day of the week. But as she stood staring out the kitchen window at the rain washing out what had started as a perfectly beautiful spring day, she wondered if the world at large was out to get her.

  For some reason, she’d thought time would make losing Erick easier. And it had in some respects. She no longer woke up in the middle of the night, her pillow soaked with tears, her throat sore from sobbing. She’d even finally packed up the last of his clothes and other things and stored them in the attic a couple of months earlier, and placed the silver-framed picture of him that had once sat on her nightstand in the girls’ room.

  But she would never in a million years have guessed that Erin thought her father was coming back.

  She crossed her arms to quell a shiver, remembering the expression on John’s face when she’d come out of the downstairs bathroom last night, her teeth freshly brushed, feeling like she’d been hit by a tractor. He had been standing in the same spot she’d left him, looking as shell-shocked as she felt. All in all, she figured yesterday had been a banner day for everyone.

  She looked down to find her fingertips rubbing against the inside of her palm. John had been so sweet, so endearing—and so incredibly sexy when he’d dropped to one knee and proposed to her even after she’d already told him no. Not many men would have continued after the first rejection. But he had. She caught herself smiling. With everything happening, she couldn’t even begin to classify what she felt for John. Whenever he was within touching distance, she wanted to run her hands all over him. Press her mouth against his if only to stop the ever-present flow of words coming out of it. Feel his hungry, almost reverent touch on her heated skin.

  But last night she’d had little choice but to ask him to leave after Erin’s heart-stopping display. He’d asked if she needed help, if she’d like him to talk to the six-year-old, but she’d refused the offer, no matter how tempting. It seemed so very long since anyone but her had been responsible for the twins. Still, she watched with her heart in her throat as he gathered his hat and left.

  She glanced down at her ring finger and the one item from her time with Erick that she hadn’t been able to part with yet. Her simple platinum wedding band. She absently twisted it around and around on her finger, her gaze drawn to the silverware drawer. Hands suddenly shaking, she slid it open. There, under the extra packets of ketchup and mustard she always hoarded when she gave in to the twins’ demand for fast food was the small box John had left behind.

  Darby’s heart dipped low in her chest as she picked up the box and snapped open the lid. She’d been so surprised when he’d sprung it on her last night that she hadn’t given the ring more than a cursory glance. There, nestled in the dark-blue velvet, sat the ring he usually wore on his left pinky finger. No sparkling diamond solitaire. No ornate piece of antique jewelry passed down through generations of Sparkses. No, instead, a large tigereye set in thick warm gold drew her touch. She slid the ring out and admired it, curious about the etching on the inside. She squinted for a closer look.

  Erick and John. Best Friends Forever ’89.

  Darby’s heart jumped as the significance of John’s actions clamped around her shoulders. He’d proposed to her with a ring Erick had given him.

  “Mom, Lindy says there isn’t going to be a picnic today.” Erin’s voice reverberated through the kitchen. “Tell her it ain’t so.”

  Darby bobbled the ring, positioning herself so the girls couldn’t see as she placed the ring inside the box and tucked it back into the drawer. An unsteady smile on her face, she turned to her daughters. “Isn’t. The word you want is ‘isn’t,’ Erin,” she automatically corrected, relieved she was capable of any response at all.

  Erin eyed her suspiciously, an expression that was fast becoming very familiar. Darby bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if it had been wise to leave her talk with her daughter until today, until the picnic they had spent the past ten days planning down to which napkins they would use. Even now the wicker basket was packed full of all the twins’ favorites on the counter behind her.

  “It’s raining,” Lindy said unnecessarily.

  “That, it is.” Darby spared another glance at the drenched day.

  “But you promised.” Erin crossed her arms in a way that made Darby frown.

  “I said it was raining. I didn’t say we weren’t going to have our picnic.” Darby eyed her daughter, waiting for a response.

  “But—”

  Darby picked up the basket by the handle. “Lindy, you get the blanket. Erin, the pitcher of lemonade is in the refrigerator. Follow me.”

  Darby led the way up the stairs, watching the girls’ faces as they glowered and fought to ke
ep up with her long-legged stride. Within moments, she was in her bedroom, where she had already made some hasty preparations. The daisies John had brought were separated into half a dozen bunches and set around the bed in different-colored plastic glasses. The bird-shaped wind chimes she’d taken from the front porch hung from the ceiling, the gentle turning of the ceiling fan making them tinkle. She’d found a length of green, grasslike indoor-outdoor carpet in a closet that she draped across the bed, and pictures of trees and nature the girls themselves had drawn over the years were pasted on the walls.

  “Cool!” Lindy shouted, making a beeline for the bed, the checked blanket still clutched in her arms.

  Darby caught her before she could climb onto the mattress. “Wait a minute. You don’t want to get grass stains on your new white pants now, do you?”

  Lindy giggled as Darby ran her fingers over her plump, little-girl belly, tickling her.

  Darby glanced to Erin, who hung back, clutching the pitcher tightly in both hands, staring at the flowers.

  “Erin, why don’t you put the pitcher down? I’m going to need both of you to help me with this.”

  Erin slowly did as asked and Darby snapped out the blanket, satisfied when the girls scrambled to the other side of the bed to smooth down the cheery material.

  She eyed them across the expanse of the king-size mattress as she switched on the old portable radio on the nightstand. Golden oldies poured out of the small box, filling the room with further warmth. “Okay. Ready, set…go!”

  All three of them jumped on top of the bed, rolling around and laughing as if a warm spring breeze was blowing, the birds were chirping and the sun was shining affectionately down on them. As the girls’ laughter subsided, Darby drew them to either side of her, squeezing tightly. They so resembled their father with their curly blond hair and big brown eyes it sometimes hurt just looking at them. She pressed a kiss to both their temples, then lay back and sighed.

  Somewhere over the past year, through all the grief, the long, pain-filled nights, the struggles to fill the large hole caused by Erick’s absence, Darby often felt as if the three of them had become one. One mind. One heart. One body. They hurt and she felt it. They laughed, she laughed with them. They cried, she felt as if the world had been ripped in two.

  Now she quietly cleared her throat. “You remember those life lessons I’m always talking about?” she asked, smoothing back their hair. “Well, this is one of them.”

  Silence. Then Lindy propped herself up on a skinny elbow and looked at her. “What is?”

  Darby smiled, then tucked a stubborn curl behind Lindy’s ear. “A little rain doesn’t have to ruin anyone’s parade.”

  “Parade? That’s dumb. There’s no parade.” Erin rolled her eyes, as if tired of all of her mother’s little philosophical tidbits. Tidbits Darby’s own mother used to pass on to her when she was younger. The Parker family might not have had a whole heck of a lot of money, but love was never in short supply.

  Darby playfully pinched her daughter’s wrinkled nose. “It means just because your plans change doesn’t mean you can’t still work something out. Something fun. Something you’ll remember forever.”

  Erin turned her head away from the contact. “You’re not talking about Uncle Sparky, are you?”

  Darby fell silent and slowly withdrew her hand. “No. I’m talking about the weather. And life.”

  Her daughter eyed her warily.

  Darby wanted to know just when Erin had turned so skeptical. When Erick had been around, there was hardly ever a time when either of the twins had anything other than a smile on her face.

  Now it seemed that smiles were at a steep premium. And Darby wished she knew the price on the tag.

  Spot leaped up on the bed, startling them. They snapped to a sitting position in unison, then laughed, the girls teasing each other over who had been more startled.

  Ignoring the cat that had taken up residence in the house since catching a ride over with John yesterday, Darby leaned over the side of the bed, hoisted up the picnic basket and began setting out their carefully planned meals, each one of them different. Pineapple pizza for Lindy. Barbecued chicken for Erin. And a Caesar salad for herself.

  She leaned across where Lindy was already making a great attempt at decorating the blanket with fruit and reached for the lemonade.

  “I don’t think cats and pineapple mix very well, Lindy,” she said, her finger brushing what she thought was the side of the pitcher. She turned her head, the smile freezing on her face. She stared at the ornate silver picture frame of her late husband sitting right where it had always sat…until a couple of days ago, when she’d moved it to the girls’ room.

  A shiver traveled down the length of her arm. She slanted a look at the girls, but they either hadn’t noticed her discovery of the picture as they chattered on about how good their food was or were better at playing it cool than Darby feared. A question that wouldn’t even have entered her mind a short time ago.

  Swallowing hard, she picked up the pitcher and filled each of their uncapped bottles in turn. If she was going to talk to them about John, about his surprising proposal, now was the time to do it. Only how, exactly, did one go about broaching a subject of such a delicate nature?

  After the loss of their father, she’d encouraged the girls to talk about their feelings, coaxed them to reminisce about the things they missed most about Erick. She absently smoothed down the front of her blouse, feeling the flat expanse of her belly just below the soft material, and reminded herself that before too long another human being would be joining them. And she owed it to him or her and to John to set things straight with the twins now.

  The thought of John made her stomach tighten. Oh, how she wished he were here right now to help her with this.

  Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch even as she handed Lindy a napkin. The quiet, subconscious wish was startling. She hadn’t wished Erick were there. Or her best friend, Jolie. Or even her mother. It was significant that John’s name had surfaced above all the others. And the revelation made her feel more than a bit vulnerable, exposed.

  She supposed it might be due to the fact that she was carrying his child. But that excuse didn’t ring true somehow.

  “Spot!” Erin screamed. “Baaaad cat!”

  Darby focused on the scene unfolding around her. The girls in various stages of devouring their meals. The frisky feline that had pounced on the remainder of Lindy’s pineapple pizza, traipsing through the potato salad to do so. One of Erin’s drumsticks clutched firmly between her teeth, she leaped to the floor and out the door, mayonnaise pawprints dotting the polished wood floor in her wake.

  Darby looked first at Lindy. Then at Erin. Then the three of them gave in to peals of laughter.

  John brushed through the sheriff’s office door just after 4:00 p.m. and took off his hat. A mini-shower of water landed on the front of his slacks. Great. Not only didn’t he have enough sense to get in from out of the rain, now he looked as if his aim in the bathroom department had been off. He wondered what else could possibly happen to make his day any darker. And decided that nothing could make it as dark as last night.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Ed Hanover, the first-shift desk sergeant.

  Seeing as the sheriff’s office never closed, John and most of the staff worked alternate weekends to make sure the office was manned at all times. The previous sheriff hadn’t seen that as necessary. So during the weekends, the busiest time for any law-enforcement agency, anyone needing help was either directed to the city police or had to track down the sheriff at his favorite watering hole. Most often, the matter had to wait until the following Monday.

  The work schedule was the first thing John had rearranged, much to the chagrin of some of the older workers like Ed.

  “Not much,” Ed answered in response to John’s question.

  John tossed Ed his requested dinner from the hotdog place up the block, along with a couple of meat-loaf dinner trays from a ne
arby diner for the two prisoners in the back.

  “I’ll take them the food in a minute.” Ed pulled out a couple of French fries and pointed them at him. “You get your Jeep towed out of the mud all right there, Sparky?”

  John slid the older man a dark gaze. “Yeah.” He hung his rain gear on the rack near the door. “One of the McCreary brothers gave me a line.”

  Ed stuffed the fries into his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from talking. “It can get mighty muddy quick this time of year, what with all the rain we’ve been getting.”

  “Yeah,” John said again, hoping Ed would get the hint and drop the subject. His run out to the Jones farm to check out a broken window had ended up in his getting stuck in the mud that was the Joneses’ driveway. As he’d listened to the account of how the broken attic window had been discovered, he’d been hard put not to tell the young couple that they should consider laying gravel on their driveway. The window? Probably the result of one of the oak-tree branches hitting it during last week’s storm, rather than the mischief of the Taylor boys who lived two miles up the road.

  Truth was, everything John had attempted to do that day had ended up a mess. Hell, he might as well go back to yesterday if he wanted an accurate account of just how much could go wrong in one man’s life with the utterance of a few earth-shattering words. I’m pregnant with your baby.

  Ed wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You say something, boss?”

  John blinked at him. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just thought you mighta said something.”

  “No, no. I didn’t say a word.”

  And he prayed he hadn’t. It was bad enough that Darby’s statement echoed nonstop through his muddled, sleep-deprived brain. To have anyone else find out so soon…

  The memory of Darby’s sweet face when she’d turned down his proposal loomed large in his mind, followed quickly by Erin’s vehement response and tears.

  He stepped to the call log and glanced through it. Cole was out seeing to a brawl at Harvey’s, a biker bar on the outskirts of town. Good. Better the deputy than him. The way things were going, he’d end up backing into the long line of motorcycles and knocking them over like so many chrome dominoes.