AKA_Marriage

by Jule McBride

  “Finally,” McSween said.

  Shane lifted his gaze from Lillian and focused on the suspect. The picture was black-and-white, and the man’s face was obscured by a hat brim. Shane watched him draw a pistol from a jacket pocket and fire the shot. Shane registered two facts at once: first, something about the suspect—maybe the way he moved—reminded him of the deceased Sam Ramsey, whom he’d tailed years ago. And second, Lillian had been far closer to Jake and the gunman than she’d thought—more like five feet, not twenty.

  Which meant she, not Jake, might have been the target.

  “LILLIAN?”

  “In here.”

  He set his Stetson on the marble-topped table and followed her voice, which sounded strangely muffled, to the bedroom, then leaned in the doorway. The room was dim. Silent, except for the creak of the rocker and the rhythmic pad of Lillian’s bare feet as she pushed off. For a moment, she kept her head bowed over Little Shane, and Shane took in how, as she rocked, the light of the red-shaded lamp played on her dark, knitted eyebrows and the escaped waving blond strands touching her neck.

  She glanced briefly up at him. “Hey, Shane.”

  “Hey.” He’d called her periodically, to check on her, so she already had all the updates on Jake’s condition and knew he’d be fine. It had turned into a long day, and now the bedside clock read nearly midnight. Shane felt bone tired. After watching the tapes, he’d returned to the hospital with McSween. Pushing aside his worries, he’d turned his mind to business, ceaselessly reviewing all the possible angles. In the strangest turn of events, it was found out that Lillian’s boss, Jefferson, had stepped forward, claiming to be related to Jake Lucas. In fact, it was Jefferson who’d offered the rare blood Jake had needed to survive.

  “Who would have guessed your boss was Jake’s father?” Shane murmured now from the doorway.

  Lillian smiled. “I told you Jefferson’s an angelfish. Since he spends all day looking for good causes to fund, it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he’s been secretly contributing to Big Apple Babies all these years.”

  Shane could merely shake his head. “I knew Jake was adopted and that he’d been looking for his birth parents, but…it just seems so coincidental that his biological father would turn out to be your boss.”

  Shane had definitely expected Lillian to be more surprised. Of course, Shane was well aware of how Big Apple Babies had gotten started. He even knew who some of the previously anonymous secret backers for the agency were—Judge Tilford Winslow, whom he’d first met at a Big Apple Baby party, and the ad man Grantham Hale, who’d designed the Big Apple Baby logos. Now he frowned. “Did you know your boss was Jake’s biological father?”

  She didn’t answer, only bent her head low, over the baby again. “Oh, nothing surprises me,” she offered mildly.

  He nodded. “Well, truth’s definitely stranger than fiction.”

  “It really is.”

  Now Shane mulled it over, trying to imagine how Jake had felt, years ago when he’d been a burnt-out prosecutor, and when he’d received an anonymous check to start Big Apple Babies. Who would have thought that opening the agency was Jefferson Lawrence’s idea? A way for Jefferson to offer a new job opportunity to a son he’d watched grow up from afar—while Jake was being raised by his adoptive parents?”

  “It’s kind of magical, isn’t it?” Lillian murmured.

  Shane nodded. There might be senseless violence in the world, but there was plenty of good, too. How Big Apple Babies got started was a reminder of that. “My brother made up with his girlfriend at the hospital, too.” Shane added. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you that on the phone.”

  Lillian’s voice hitched. “Doc and Frankie Luccetti made up?”

  Shane nodded. “Yeah. Frankie showed up outside Jake’s hospital room.” He suddenly grinned. “Doc didn’t waste any time, either. He proposed.”

  “And she accepted?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How wonderful.”

  For a moment the dim room seemed overly quiet. Lillian quit rocking, and Shane could swear the silence was begging for his own proposal. He thought of his and Lillian’s lovemaking, of how yesterday and last night it was even deeper—so deep it scared him. Maybe the rest of your life could be this way, Shane. Like Jake Lucas, or Sean McSween, maybe he could work hard, pay his taxes, and come home after a hard day’s work to a family he loved.

  His gaze drifted over them. The baby was in a T-shirt and diaper, and Lillian hadn’t yet changed from the sundress. Its white fabric reminded him of her wedding dress, and how he’d laid her across the bed, awash in this same rose lamplight. His breath caught when he remembered turning out the light, how he’d savored her in the dark.

  He’d never yet made love to her in the light, only at night or with the blinds and curtains drawn. Now, thinking of their lovemaking, he felt awareness in the heaviness and heat of his groin. But tonight he didn’t want sex so much as love. And really, he was content just to watch her and the baby like this…to feel these strange new emotions that were touching him. He needed so much to keep her and the baby safe. And to give this woman his body. He craved her response to him—the assurance they belonged together.

  Maybe tonight, she’d speak the words: I love you, Shane. Or maybe he would say them. He silently practiced as his gaze drifted over her. I love you, Lillian.

  As if she’d read his mind, she raised her head, looking directly at him. With a sudden surprised start, Shane realized she’d been crying. Her head had been lowered and the lights so dim, that he couldn’t tell before now.

  He took a quick step forward. “Lillian?”

  There was a hitch in her voice, and when she spoke, she said the last thing he ever expected.

  “My name’s not Lillian.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “PLEASE JUST LISTEN and keep an open mind,” Lillian continued.

  Only when Shane spoke did she realize she’d been holding her breath, expecting an explosion, instead of his softly voiced, “All right.” She watched as he came silently across the room, casting a long shadow, his boot heels nothing more than soft clicks on the hardwood floor that muted when he reached the rug. He sat on the bed’s edge, not a foot from the rocker, and her eyes took in where the lamplight had deepened the shadows on his chiseled face, and where rose threads seemed to glimmer in the dark strands of his hair.

  She peered at him. All right. Was that all Shane was going to say? “Didn’t you hear me?”

  He leaned, a lock of hair falling forward as he brushed a thumb down her tearstained cheek. When his hand dropped, it grazed the sleeping baby. “Yeah, I heard you.”

  All the years she’d been hiding out, Lillian had expected the world to come crashing down when she finally voiced that simple sentence: My name’s not Lillian. She swallowed hard. “How could you be so…calm?”

  He tilted his head, as if to say she should expect more of him. “How should I know what to feel? I want to listen, to hear…whatever you’re going to tell me.”

  For years, she had watched her coworkers longingly, wondering which could be trusted if she divulged the secrets of her past. She’d considered telling Jefferson the truth. And more recently, Shane. Now the words came in a rush. “I didn’t grow up in Mississippi, Shane. I’m Delilah Fontenont and I’m from Bayou Laforche in southern Louisiana.”

  She paused again, waiting for the explosion.

  A bright, watchful intensity gleamed in Shane’s pale eyes now, but nothing more. His features didn’t betray any feelings. Was he going to hate her for lying? Turn her in?

  He said, “I’m listening.”

  The low timbre of his drawl moved through her, bringing an answering ripple that pulled inside her like a current. What did he really think about her? About the baby? How deep were his feelings? Anxiously, her arm tightened around Little Shane, who stirred, but didn’t awaken.

  Finding her voice, she quickly continued, “Shane, I know you well enough to know y
ou’ll at least be fair. See, I’m in trouble. Real trouble. And since you’re an ex-cop, maybe you can help…”

  “I can try.”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Anywhere.”

  She took a deep breath. Her voice still scratchy from tears she’d shed through the day, she told him how her parents had died within two years of each other. “Everything seemed even worse because my father…” She interrupted herself. “Oh, Shane, I’ve told you about him. I loved him so much.” She paused, a fledgling smile curling her lips. “I know you would have liked him. He was such an old-fashioned Southern gentleman. He called me Lilah. And when I was little, he was always drying my tears with his fancy monogrammed handkerchiefs. He whistled all the time, and he wore linen suits and a tie, even if he was only driving his big old Cadillac down the road to the store….”

  After a moment, Shane gently coaxed, “I know you loved him.”

  “So much,” she repeated. At her father’s memory, she felt the sting of tears. “Daddy loved life more than anyone I’ve ever known. But his heart was bigger than his pocket and he was more charitable than we could really afford, always helping people from our church or poor families further down the bayou…

  “When he died, I quickly found out he left no money and more debts than I could pay.” It pained her to say anything bad about her parents, but she forced herself to continue. “Maybe they let me run wilder than I should have. They didn’t want me to become a Fontenont snob, but I wasn’t exactly trained to be much else.”

  She gave a soft dry chuckle, as she shook her head and gazed down at the baby. No doubt, all parents, no matter how well-intentioned, made mistakes. “Contrary to what accountants told Daddy, he remained convinced to his dying day that our family money was endless. But it wasn’t. And I’m the end of the line.”

  “Little Shane’s the end of the line now, Lillian.”

  She guessed Shane wasn’t going to call her Delilah.

  “Yes,” she murmured, glancing from the baby to Shane again, fruitlessly searching for emotion in Shane’s eyes. She thought he’d come to love her and the baby. But he’d never said… The nights they’d gotten to know each other, in preparation for Ethel’s visit, his interest seemed so genuine, and his lovemaking could be excruciatingly tender. And while he’d never so much as held a child before Little Shane, he barely put him down over the past two days. Whenever he looked at the baby, Shane’s pale eyes warmed and softened.

  Eyeing him, she wanted to ask: Are you starting to love me and feel like this baby’s ours? Do you want to try to make it that way? But she knew that, perhaps, it no longer mattered. She forced herself to continue, “Well…after my parents died, I met a man.”

  She thought jealousy sparked in Shane’s gaze, but he merely nodded. She didn’t feel right talking to him about another man, but she had to make him understand. “Sam Ramsey…seemed like everything I wanted. He told me he was a land developer. He really was building shopping malls on the East Coast, even if that was only half the truth. I didn’t care that he was rich, but the way he courted me was like something from a movie. He brought flowers, took me out for fancy meals and dancing.”

  Shane’s words were guarded. “I’m not like that.”

  “No,” she returned. “You’re not.” Tears suddenly threatened. “And I’m glad you’re not, Shane.” He’d never know how glad.

  “But you loved him.”

  “I loved an illusion. Everything about Sam was an act. All smoke and mirrors.”

  Lifting her eyes from the baby again, she pleaded with him to understand. “I thought my life was falling into place. I wasn’t even twenty yet, I was alone for the first time, and I was about to lose our family home. Daddy had left it untended. The house needed structural work, the grounds were overgrown.”

  “And Sam Ramsey said he’d help you fix it up?”

  Humiliation arrowed through her. Was what happened to her that predictable? How many people had been on to Sam’s real agenda? She tamped down her fury and tried not to wonder if people had had a good laugh at her expense. Or even worse, if they’d guessed at Sam’s deception, turned a blind eye and simply felt sorry for her. She hoped not. That she might have been pitied tweaked her considerable pride.

  “Sam had me sign some papers, saying they’d allow him to hire contractors,” she continued. “I signed, like a fool. Later, of course, I found out I’d sold our family home down the river.” Her voice caught. “That house was in my family for generations.”

  Shane was squinting. “The papers were deeds?”

  She sighed in frustration. She was getting ahead of herself, but unable to stop the outburst. “I trusted him! He had a wonderful idea to turn the plantation into a resort. And now—” Her voice broke and her eyes darted helplessly around the room.

  “Now?”

  “It’s a resort, all right. Run by his father, Jack Ramsey, who hangs out there with a bunch of his mobster cronies…” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to backtrack, telling Shane about the plantation’s new airstrip, stables and guest bungalows. “The place is gorgeous. I thought my parents would be so proud, since my father was always talking about restoring it.” As she shifted the baby in her lap, her trembling chin shot up. “Now, I’m just glad they didn’t live to see the travesty.”

  Shane reached over, squeezing her arm reassuringly. He seemed to understand. The Fontenonts had that land for nearly two centuries, since a time when land, not machines, was the great engine fueling the country. Shifting the baby, she lifted a hand and tucked the escaped tendrils of her hair back into her French twist, as if that might restore her dignity. Her voice shook with barely suppressed fury. “Our land and home meant everything to us, Shane.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Gazing into his eyes, she knew he really could. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to tell the next part, the worst part. Quickly leaning, she nuzzled the baby, taking comfort from his softness and scent. “Well, Sam and I got married…” She paused, suddenly feeling she couldn’t go on.

  Shane’s drawl was gentle, reminding her of the home she’d lost. “Go ahead and tell me all of it.”

  She blew out a long shaky sigh. “The evening ceremony was lovely.” She could still recall the startling red sunset over the bayou and how she’d thought it portended good things to come. “We’d been trying to have a baby—” Warmth flooded her cheeks and she held Little Shane closer. “I know we should have waited for the wedding, but I wanted kids so badly…”

  “You were that sure of his love,” Shane murmured.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. Especially when we found out I couldn’t get pregnant. He was wonderful and said that, after the wedding, we’d immediately adopt.” She’d been so moved when Sam offered to accept another couple’s child. Of course, it was nothing more than lies. Now, she wondered if Shane could love someone else’s baby….

  “And then what happened?” he said.

  “Only the worst thing in my life. After the wedding reception—it was at the plantation—I overheard Sam talking on the phone to a woman.”

  “You know it was a woman? You were on the phone line?”

  Did Shane really think she’d intentionally eavesdrop? “Of course not,” she returned, taken aback. “I was in the hallway.”

  “Then how did you know it was a woman?”

  She should have guessed her story would bring out the cop in Shane. “For starters,” she managed, “he was flirting. He called me his ‘little Southern trophy wife,’ and he assured whoever it was—” feeling a sudden, sickening rush of vertigo, she drew in a quick, steadying breath “—that he was only adopting to appease me. He said he hated kids, that his father pressured him to marry me, wanting my family connection. And then…then he said to the woman, ‘Tonight, we’re paying off all the cops. Look out, girl, because my family’s taking over Louisiana.’” Her eyes caught Shane’s. “Taking over. That’s exactly what he said.”

  “H
e said he’d paid off the cops?” Shane repeated.

  “That he was going to. I wasn’t sure what it meant then. I was still in shock at finding him speaking intimately with a woman.” There was no help for the temper in her voice now. “It was my wedding day, Shane! And worse, for the first time, I realized Sam Ramsey was one of the Ramseys from out West.”

  She’d felt so duped. “I always read newspapers, Shane, but I…I never made the connection until that moment. The Ramseys are linked to a Western crime consortium, but they’ve never been convicted of anything. I’ve looked up articles about them since coming here. Have you ever read about them?”

  “Yes.”

  Most people had. She realized her heartbeat was rapid now, pulsing too fast in her throat. Only the baby in her lap kept her from hopping up and pacing off the nervous energy. “Apparently, the Ramseys felt my historic home and good family name would be an asset when they settled in the area. Feeling confused and betrayed, I ran. We kept all the car keys in the garage, and I got into the first car I came to, a big black car. The few wedding guests had left by then and it was dark out.

  “I guess someone saw me running.” She shuddered now, remembering how badly her foot was shaking as she tried to press the gas pedal. “I’d almost reached the end of our private road when I…I ran over my husband.”

  Shane gasped. “You what?”

  It was the first real emotion he’d shown. “Shane, Sam came running toward the headlights!” She’d seen nothing more than a shadow darting from the trees before she heard the sickening thud. “I jumped out, felt for his pulse. I couldn’t think straight. I thought his father would try to kill me for revenge or something. I was so scared. I was only eighteen years old, and my mind was running wild. I even thought people would say I’d killed Sam on purpose because of how he’d betrayed me with another woman.”