by Susan Fox
“No chance he’d move up here?”
“He’s talking about divorce in the same breath as marriage.” She put down her fork. “But he’s also offering legitimacy for the baby. I have to think of what’s best for my baby. What am I going to do?”
Dave frowned. “Wouldn’t it tear you apart? Loving him, being married to him, yet knowing it would end?” His voice was soft and caring.
A hormonal surge brought moisture to her eyes. “Yes. But if it helped the baby . . .”
“Legitimacy isn’t such a big deal these days. This town knows you, Brooke. The new and improved you. Most folks aren’t going to judge. If some do, ignore them.”
“That’s how I was planning to do it, before Jake showed up last night.”
“You’re the mom. If something’s bad for you, how can it be good for your baby?”
“Hmm.” She glanced past him, musing on that. Her gaze hit on the antique pendulum clock. “Oh gosh, I need to get back.” She shoved the unfinished pie away. “Thanks, Dave. I really appreciate being able to talk to you.”
“Any time.” He caught her hand as she stood up. “I mean that, Brooke.”
“I know. And the same goes for you.” She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for being my friend. You can’t imagine how much it means to me.”
Jake came out of an IBET meeting in Seattle headquarters to find that he’d missed a call from Brooke.
On voice mail, she said, “Thanks for the check, Jake.”
He’d mailed one from Vancouver last week, before driving down to his latest assignment.
“And,” she went on, sounding awkward and formal, “for the, uh, proposal. But I really can’t marry you. The baby and I will do fine on our own.”
He felt a pang. He was glad she was strong—it was one of the things that drew him to her—but for some reason it hurt that she didn’t need him.
“If it’s all right with you,” she said briskly, “I’ll show you as father on the birth certificate and give the baby your last name. I’d like our child to have something of yours. Beyond, you know, your genes.”
He would too.
There was a long pause and then she said, very softly, and not businesslike at all, “Bye, Jake.”
She was moving on with her life. Without him. “Bye, Brooke,” he murmured as he put the phone down.
He’d continue to send checks. For the child he’d never see. The child who might look like him, or like Brooke. The child who might ride horses, play basketball, love gardening. Want a motorbike rather than a car. Surely, when the baby was born, Brooke would at least tell him if it was Nick or Nicki.
He slammed his fist down on his borrowed desk. Everyone in the room looked up, then quickly away. Yeah, he hadn’t been the easiest guy to work with these last few days.
Maybe things would level out now that he knew Brooke’s decision. Except he was convinced she’d made the wrong one. She was making things harder on herself and the baby. Why did she have to be so damned independent!
It was one thing to make decisions for herself, but now she was making decisions for their baby. Brooke might think she and the baby would do just fine, but what if the kid had a different idea? What if the kid wanted a dad, not just a surrogate like Evan or that Dave Cousins, whom Brooke thought was the nicest man in town? He was damned sure Brooke wasn’t going to drink again, but what if the lithium stopped working and her bipolar disorder came back? What if their child turned out to have bipolar?
He slumped back in his chair. What-ifs. There were so many of them. Life had become so complicated.
But Brooke was trying to uncomplicate it for him. She’d given him every opportunity to opt out of her life, and the baby’s. He should take her up on it.
Hell, he couldn’t stop mixing into Sapphire’s life. What were the chances he could leave Brooke and the baby alone? She’d been his woman when he was in Caribou Crossing, and damned if he didn’t still think of her that way. He wanted to make everything right, easy, happy for her. And for their child.
But what did he have to offer them? He knew his job scared Brooke. She valued and needed stability.
He closed his eyes. What would be best for Brooke would be to marry a man like Dave Cousins. A stable, decent, nice man who would make her a perfect husband and be a perfect father to her child.
The best thing for Jake’s child would be to have another man as its father. And the best thing for his woman would be to marry someone else.
His gut clenched and twisted. He barely made it to the men’s room before he threw up. As he hovered over the toilet he swore he’d never again eat greasy fish and chips from a sidewalk vendor. Food poisoning. It had to be food poisoning.
Or was it the thought of Brooke making love with another man? Looking up at him out of those dazzley blue-green eyes and telling him she loved him?
On his way back to his desk he grabbed a tin of soda from the fridge and then, needing to hear a friendly voice, dialed Jamal in Vancouver.
“Had coffee with your CI, Sapphire,” Jamal said.
“Oh yeah? She pass along anything good?”
“No tips this time. She’d been looking for you but settled for me. Wanted to talk about a program you mentioned to her, that work-study for people who want to get into the hospitality industry.”
“You’re kidding. She’s actually thinking of getting off the street?”
“Says what happened to Anika Janssen got her thinking.”
“Good for her. I’ll see her as soon as I get back.”
“Yeah, I told her that. Oh, and other news that’ll interest you. Miller got roughed up in jail. He fired his first lawyer and is shopping around for another. Won’t do him any good, though. We’re putting together a real strong case.”
Henry Miller had been sent down to Vancouver, where the judge had denied him bail, figuring there was a strong probability he’d use his connections to skip the country and never show up for trial. The man would be sitting in prison for months until his case came to trial.
When they finished talking about work, Jake said, “How was your visit with Karen?”
“Great.” Jamal sounded self-satisfied.
“Did more than talk your way through the nights?”
“Ain’t saying.”
“Don’t have to.” He was happy for Jamal. Really he was. “You see Brooke?”
“Went line dancing.”
“Hell, you did go line dancing! Wait a minute. You saying Brooke was there?” He scowled at the phone. Should she be shaking the baby up like that?
“She looked like a pro.”
“Who was she dancing with?”
“I hear jealousy. Hmm, let me see. Just about every guy in the room. Couple of teenagers, the geezer who teaches the class, the guy who owns the hotel. Danced a couple with me too.”
Damn. Everyone but Jake had been holding Brooke in their arms. “She’s okay?”
“Not pining away since you’re gone? Nah, she looked just fine. Kind of glowing, actually.”
“She ask about me?”
“Not so’s you’d notice. You’re gonna lose her, man, if you don’t do something quick.”
Jake hadn’t told Jamal about Brooke’s pregnancy nor about his trip the previous week, much less his proposal. They’d never talked about that kind of stuff—not that there had ever been that kind of stuff to talk about before—but now he wouldn’t mind his partner’s take on the situation. He sure as hell didn’t want to do it over the phone, though.
“Goin’ back this weekend,” Jamal said. “Any message?”
“You’re going back so soon?”
“There’re advantages to a desk job with regular hours. Yeah, I’ll fly up late Friday.”
“Have fun.”
“Could ya sound like you mean it? Hey, if you want to see Brooke, just go do it.”
“I don’t want to see her.” It was an out-and-out lie and he knew Jamal knew it.
“How long you gonna be stuck with the IBET?
”
Jake glanced around the room. A man and a woman were clicking away on computers, two men stood gesturing at a chart on the wall, an undercover gal with dreadlocks and piercings was slumped in a chair drinking coffee. “I could leave now and they’d never miss me. I could be as much help in Vancouver, working by phone and Internet.”
“So come back. And come up to Caribou Crossing this weekend.” When Jake didn’t answer, Jamal changed the topic. “Say, man, you seriously bummed about me giving up U/C work?”
“Hell, no. You can be replaced.”
Jamal laughed. “Don’t I know it.” Then his voice sobered. “Life doesn’t stand still. We’ve been doing it a long time. Lucky we’re still alive.”
That was true. But it was more than luck; it was how they watched each other’s backs. It wouldn’t be the same without Jamal.
Hell, it hadn’t been the same for a while, not since Jamal took the promotion. And in Winnipeg, even though they’d been together on the street again, Jamal was talking about Karen half the time and his own thoughts were with Brooke.
Hadn’t stopped thinking about her since then, either. The damned woman had taken up permanent residence in his mind. Or was it his heart?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brooke woke on Saturday smiling. This was it. Five years of being sober.
She hadn’t told Evan and Jessica. They’d make a fuss, and she didn’t want them doing that in front of Robin. Yes, the girl knew her grandmother used to have a problem with alcohol but she didn’t need to be reminded of it. Brooke wanted Robin to view sobriety as something normal, not an achievement to be celebrated.
But it was. For her, it was a huge achievement.
Sunny rose from where he’d been sleeping on the pillow beside her, stretched, and came to plunk his heavy weight on her chest. She scratched him around his ears and under his chin, then let her hand drift to rest on her belly. “Good morning, Nick-Nicki,” she murmured.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains and touched the watercolor Jake had given her. She loved the joyous abandon of the garden in the painting. It inspired her to experiment with her own garden, rather than be as neat and formal as in the past.
After breakfast she’d head off to Greenbrier Nursery. She might pick up some sweet pea seeds. Sweet peas were about as messy as you could get, but their colors and fragrance were lovely.
There was something miraculous about planting seeds or bulbs, seeing the little green shoots come up, eventually watching buds open.
Having a baby was even more miraculous.
Humming, she rose and pulled on her robe.
As she was having breakfast, the phone rang. It was her A.A. sponsor, calling to congratulate her. Later, as she was returning from the nursery, Tonia, the girl she sponsored, phoned for the same reason. These people knew what she’d gone through, which made their congratulations particularly meaningful.
After lunch Brooke gardened, then took a nap. When she rose she began dinner preparations, humming along to the radio as she worked. She’d recently learned how to make homemade pizza, and today was trying out a vegetarian one with feta cheese and olives. If it worked, she’d make it for Robin next time the girl came over.
On the radio, Glen Campbell was singing “Gentle on My Mind.” The song always reminded her of Jake. Yes, so often he was there on the back roads and rivers of her memory. Just there, keeping her and their baby company. Keeping her heart warm.
In the beginning with Jake, she’d thought she was creating sexy memories, and yes, she certainly had those, but she had other ones too: Jake in her kitchen, riding and laughing with Robin, helping in the garden, reading together. Ironic that the big tough undercover cop, the sexy guy on the Harley, had created memories that rested so gently on her mind.
She was slipping the pizza in the oven when the doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, she gaped in amazement at the huge bouquet of flowers. “Oh, my gosh!” The creamy blooms and green leaves filled the doorway and she couldn’t even see who was holding them. Below, there were Western boots that looked new, and well-worn jeans hugging fine legs. Above, the top of a black cowboy hat.
“Happy five years.”
She’d know that voice anywhere. “Jake!”
“Can I bring these in?”
“Of course.” She stepped back and let him come into the house. He’d remembered her five-year anniversary.
As he moved past her, she took him in. This was another version of Jake, looking far more at home in Western wear than Arnold ever had. Under the sexy cowboy hat, his hair was longer, tousled, and her fingers itched to thread their way through it.
She concentrated instead on the flowers. Beautiful, but she didn’t recognize them. The exotic, lightly spiced scent was familiar, yet she couldn’t identify it. “What are they?”
“Plumeria. Found a florist in Vancouver who could get them.”
Plumeria, like her shampoo. “You . . . you got me plumeria and came all the way up here to congratulate me on making five years?”
“Not exactly.” He was walking toward the kitchen and said the words over his shoulder.
Oh. So he hadn’t come just to see her. He’d probably had to come up on police business. Still, it was incredible he’d remembered her anniversary. Once, he’d asked her how long she’d been sober, and she’d told him to the day. Once.
She followed him into the kitchen, found a large vase, and arranged the exotic blossoms. “How on earth did you manage to carry these on your bike?”
“No bike this trip. Rented a little plane and flew up.”
She’d forgotten he was a pilot.
“Gonna give me a proper welcome now?” he asked, and opened his arms.
She went into them, happy but confused. When she’d left the message on his voice mail, she really hadn’t expected to see him again.
He hugged her tight but she sensed something was on his mind. His embrace wasn’t the usual passionate one, but almost perfunctory. Her heart sank. It seemed their days of being lovers had passed. She told herself it was better this way; look how she’d cried the last time he’d left. Now perhaps they could start to establish a casual, friendly relationship.
And then another thought struck her. Maybe he was going to challenge her for custody of the baby. Perhaps he’d decided she wouldn’t make a fit mother.
He released her and moved restlessly around the kitchen.
She studied him anxiously and then took a deep breath, a slow one, then let it out. No, this was Jake. He would never take her child away from her.
“Are you hungry? I’ve got pizza in the oven. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
That stopped him. “Pizza? Homemade? I didn’t know you made pizza.”
“I’ve just learned.”
He gave a quick laugh. “That’s great. I love pizza.” He paced away then back toward her, then away again.
Brooke pressed her hands to her lower back. “I’ve been standing cooking for a while. I need to sit down. Come into the living room.”
When they got there, she sat in her reading chair. He tossed his black hat on the coffee table, strode across the room, and examined the bookcase. “Should’ve brought your book back. I finished it.”
“Jake! I told you to keep the stupid book. Why are you here?”
“Oh. Well.” He fished in his jeans pocket, took something out, and gripped it in his hand. Tightly. Then he strode over to her and thrust his fisted hand toward her. “I want to marry you.” He unclenched his fingers and a small velvet box dropped into her lap.
She gaped at it. “But I said no.”
He squatted in front of her. “That was a different question. Before, I said we could get married, and maybe we should. Now I’m saying I want to.”
“For the baby.”
“Yeah, but mostly for me, and I hope for you. Brooke, you once said you loved me. Is it still true?” His smoky eyes were a deep, intense mauve as they stared into hers.
His lips formed a nervous smile. “Well, I love you too.”
“You . . . love me?” she said cautiously. He’d spoken the words but she couldn’t tell if he really meant them.
“You, and the baby too. I want us to be . . .” He gulped and forced out the words. “A family.”
Her heart lurched. “It would be a huge step. For both of us.”
“Man, do I know that!” The words exploded out of him as he rose to his feet. He pulled the other chair over so he could sit facing her, their knees almost touching. “But it drives me crazy thinking about not being with you and the baby.”
The baby. Although he said he loved her, it was really the baby he was thinking of.
“What if we got married and”—she gulped, because she hated to think of the possibility—“there was no baby? If I miscarried, or the amniocentesis showed up some awful problem?”
“Then we’d have each other. I love you, Brooke.” It was the second time he’d said the words, and he sounded more convincing. “It’s the baby that got me thinking seriously, but then I realized I do love you. I’ve never felt anything like this before, so it took me a while to figure it out.”
He took her hands gently in his. “If I never have kids, that’d be okay by me. But it wouldn’t be okay to live my life without you. And if you and I have a child, then that’s great. I don’t know much about being a good father, but I figure you’ll help me learn.”
Her heart fluttered as if a butterfly were trapped in her chest. Good heavens, she was actually starting to take him seriously. And oh, the idea of a loving marriage with Jake was so enticing.
But no, it could never work.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she said softly. She squeezed his hands, then released them. “I do love you but I’m not strong enough to handle worrying about you. You go away for days, weeks at a time, and your life’s in danger.” She remembered what that one day had been like, when he and Karen had set the trap for Sergeant Miller, and she imagined every day being like that. “I’d go crazy. And I’d be all alone in Vancouver, with my family and friends up here in Caribou Crossing.” She’d just discovered family and friends. How could she be separated from them now?
