Best of Virgins Bundle

by Cathy Williams

  For the next hour, they brainstormed. At four, they climbed into the van and headed to the Webster house. “I can’t believe Jack went to that disaster training class for the police department.” Sarah spread a thick blanket over the worn bench seat and stuffed a pillow behind her back. “He should be here, waiting on me hand and foot.”

  “He’ll be back on Friday. You’re not even due until next Monday.”

  “I don’t think this—” Sarah let out an oomph and rubbed her stomach where the baby had kicked, “—little football player wants to wait that long.”

  Their eighteen-year-old A Pair of Posies van wheezed and shook the entire way to the Webster house, located on the outskirts of town, a few miles past the Emery farm. Katie was looking forward to Georgianne’s order but dreaded the possibility of running into Matt. She’d walked away, resolved to wait for him, but knew she’d melt if he even glanced her way.

  When they pulled up in front of the imposing Webster house, Katie had to fight the urge to gape. Not house—mansion—that was the only way to describe it. She’d never seen it up close, had only caught glimpses of it between the trees and seven-foot wrought-iron gate that guarded it from the outside world. There had to be at least thirty rooms in the sprawling white residence, all with large windows fronting the expansive property. It was impeccably landscaped with graceful roses and animal-shaped shrubs that formed a welcoming parade along the drive. Money practically hung from every leaf, every petal.

  “Wow,” Sarah said.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Katie shut off the van, took a deep breath and flashed a semi-confident smile at Sarah. “We’re up to this job. We’re ready for the big time. Right?”

  “You betcha.” But even Sarah looked taken aback by the imposing house.

  They got out of the van, made their way up granite steps and rang the bell. A melody softly pealed inside.

  The door opened and an elegant woman who could only be Georgianne Webster smiled at Katie and clasped both her hands. “Katie, how nice to meet you.”

  Matt’s mother was clad in a soft gray silk pantsuit, her ash-blond hair pulled back from her face with a clip. The youthful style somehow fitted her. She had to be at least fifty years old, but had the flawless face of a younger woman. She greeted Sarah, then invited them inside.

  Katie crossed the threshold into a magnificent home that could mean thousands of dollars of business for the store over the next year. The foyer had a marble floor and a Chippendale settee flanked by a bombé chest. Around the corner, she glimpsed two seating arrangements in the living room, where a pair of antique chairs was grouped below the window, looking out over a magnificent view of woods and gardens.

  Katie should have been impressed, awed. Instead, she had to force herself not to look for Matt among the impeccable antiques and exquisite artwork.

  It would take one hell of a lot of nails and hammering to work Katie’s exit out of his system. Unfortunately, that job required more nails than Matt had on hand.

  After she’d left, he’d set to work building a wall, heaving and shoving the wood into place by himself, ignoring the tearing pain in his back and the sweat pouring down his face. As he sawed and hammered, he worked through a gamut of emotions, starting with frustration and ending with idiocy.

  How could he have let her walk away? She was right. Delaying the truth was stupid. It was like putting a Band-Aid over a broken bone. It didn’t help, and even worse, barely masked the real problem.

  Once this last wall was in place—if he didn’t finish this one, all his work on the other three would fall apart—he was going to run home, change and find her. Tell her the whole truth and let the chips fall where they may.

  There. A room. A few two-by-fours, erected in squares, then hammered into place. It didn’t look like much until it was paired with another section, then a third and finally, a fourth, creating a tangible space. His new beginning was starting to feel real, concrete.

  Matt took a step back, admiring the work he’d accomplished. A week ago, there’d been nothing here. Now, there was a skeleton. He unstrapped the heavy leather belt and laid it on top of his toolbox. In the cooler, a bottle of water remained from his lunch. He twisted off the top and tipped it into his mouth.

  The musical call of alcohol played softly in the back of his mind. It probably always would. The song didn’t sound as loud or insistent as it used to, which he supposed was a very good thing.

  Over the bottom edge of the bottle, he saw a flash of blond hair. Matt lowered the water, recapped it, returned it to the cooler, and waited for his ex-wife to reach him. At the rate Olivia was marching across the field, it didn’t take her long, even in heels.

  “Well, hello, Olivia, what a surprise,” he said dryly.

  “What are you doing here?” She never had bothered with niceties.

  “I live here. Or rather, I will, once I finish.”

  “Don’t toy with me, Matthew. I want to know why you’re in Mercy, destroying my life.”

  “I didn’t come back to get revenge or make you suffer.” He shook his head. “It’s always been about you, hasn’t it? About how Olivia is affected. Did you ever think I might be back for me? For my own life?”

  “People are talking, Matthew.”

  He shrugged. “Let them.”

  “They’re talking about that night. About how you—”

  “Like I said, let them talk. I don’t have anything to hide. Not anymore.” He brushed some sawdust from his pants. “Why does it bother you? You’re the innocent party, as far as everyone knows.”

  “You’ve…never told? Anyone?”

  “No. No one until Katie, and even she doesn’t know everything. That’s one burden I shouldered all by myself.” He let out a sigh. “I can’t do that anymore. It’s time to move on past this ghost of a life I’ve been living.”

  Olivia snorted. “With Katie?”

  “Maybe. I hope so.” Matt took a seat on the toolbox. “What about you, Olivia? Have you moved on? Or have you done what I did and let the secrets and the lies multiply until you’ve forgotten where the truth is buried?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she squinted against the sun and looked past him, at the acreage beyond the house.

  “I’m done with that. I don’t care what people think about me anymore or what the truth will do to their feelings.” He got to his feet and crossed to the wall he’d just built. The posts felt sturdy, solid. Nearly permanent. “Working out here, with nothing but the birds and deer to keep me company, gave me a lot of time to think.

  “Two hours ago, I pushed away the first woman I’ve truly cared about, hell, loved,” and with that, a slow smile stole across his face as he realized, yes, he did truly, deeply love Katie, and the joy of it burst in his heart, “because I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I didn’t want to face what kind of man I’d been in the past. I didn’t want to lose her. But by keeping that secret, I lost her anyway.” He snorted. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  When she spoke, her voice was soft, almost sad. “I have more at stake than you. My name. My business.”

  “Doesn’t all of it feel empty when you keep a secret? When you have to produce lie after lie to keep everything intact, like a juggler with glass balls?”

  Her face tightened. “It will destroy everything.”

  “Come on, Olivia. It’s been eleven years since Matthew died.” She flinched when he said their son’s name. “Why not get it all out? Set the truth free.”

  She spun to face him. “Because it’s better if it just stays buried. Period. Don’t go digging up graves, Matt.”

  “Why?” He leaned in, searching her icy-blue eyes. “Is there something you’re hiding in that grave?”

  Olivia’s hand whipped out and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed in the stillness. A sharp sting radiated across his jaw. Before she could do it again, Matt grabbed her wrist, controlling the primal urge to strike back. “You do have something to hide, don’t you? Well, I’m not pa
ying for your lies anymore.” He flung her hand away, picked up his tools and walked away.

  “Matthew.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable.

  “What?” He turned around to face her. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Matt could swear he saw a sheen of tears in Olivia’s eyes.

  She let out a breath. Her shoulders seemed to sag. “We almost had something here, didn’t we?”

  He swallowed. “Yeah, we did.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “Me, too.” His sigh was heavy. “Me, too.”

  She nodded once, then strode away, retracing her path to her car with the same speedy pace as before.

  Chapter Twelve

  As soon as Olivia left, Matt followed his hunches. Too many puzzle pieces had been scattered by Miss Tanner’s conversation with Katie and Olivia’s reluctance to speak about losing the baby. He made a stop at the county coroner’s office—and found exactly what he now expected to find. The words on the report didn’t instantly absolve Matt’s guilt, but they did explain a few of the missing holes in the story.

  Matt sped back to his parent’s house, urging the bike to hurry. The storm had left the air smelling fresh, clean. New. To Matt, it seemed an apt setting for a man about to wipe his own slate clean.

  He skidded to a halt when he saw the A Pair of Posies van parked in the driveway. Katie.

  He leapt off the bike, took one step toward the door, then turned and caught the heavy motorcycle before it crashed to the ground. Kickstand, idiot. He laughed at himself, then flicked the kickstand and set the bike.

  He ran up the stairs and burst through the door. No one was in the hallway. What did he expect? She’d be waiting by the door?

  His shoes clattered on the floor as Matt checked room after room for Katie. And then, through the windowpane in the dining room, he saw her. Katie, framed by flowers, exiting the greenhouse beside his mother and Sarah. She had a rose in her hand, and sniffed the petals once while she talked. Her face was animated, lively. Happy.

  She had her hair swept up, exposing the same curve of neck he’d been nibbling on just hours ago. She’d changed into the dress she’d worn the night he met her in the Corner Pocket. He didn’t know if she had purposely picked that outfit, but just the thought that she might have had him in mind when she pulled it out of the closet pleased him.

  The sweet, lilting sound of her laughter carried on the spring air and into the house. How he craved that sound, needed to hear it. At least once a day, for the next, oh, one hundred years.

  Matt knew the back door opened into the kitchen, so he headed there. He skidded to a halt on the ceramic tile.

  “Have you been working in this rain, Matthew?” His father stood by the refrigerator, the door open. Light and cold air spilled across the floor.

  For once, his father didn’t seem to have any hidden meanings in his question. A simple conversation. That was something the two of them rarely had.

  “Some. It didn’t rain long.” Matt peered past his father. Katie was just coming up the walk. “I got some walls up, though.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” He shut the door and Matt saw his father was holding a half eaten salami sandwich.

  “Mom’s on her way in,” Matt said.

  Edward gave a guilty start, then tossed the remains of his snack into the trash. “I was, ah…looking for an…apple.”

  The snippet of humanness in his father was another surprise. Imagine that, Edward Webster sneaking unhealthy food behind his wife’s back, then disposing of the evidence. “I won’t tell.” Matt smiled. “As long as you take better care of yourself.”

  His father’s lips curved up, slowly, as if he were using his smile for the first time. “I’ll do that. Just don’t bring home any more salami, okay?”

  “Deal.” The back door opened and the three women entered. None of them saw Matt right away. They were engrossed in a conversation about flowers, clearly a common link.

  “Sarah, the rest room is right at the end of the hall. When you’re through, take a moment to look at the wallpaper in the dining room. I love your design idea and think with the right colors, it would be the perfect—” She stopped, finally noticing the men in her kitchen. “Matthew! You’re all…dirty.”

  “I’ve been working off some frustration.” His gaze never left Katie’s. She didn’t say a word, just clutched the rose.

  “You really should take a shower, dear. You’re tracking dirt all over—”

  “I don’t think I can wait that long to say what I need to say,” he told his mother. But his gaze never left Katie’s.

  “I apologize, but I can’t wait at all,” Sarah said with a laugh. She grimaced, then headed toward the door that led to the hall. “I’ve got someone here who insists I find the rest room.”

  Katie didn’t notice Sarah leave. She was aware of nothing but Matt. Like radar, her whole body was attuned to him.

  When she’d entered the kitchen and seen him, she’d felt a powerful rush of joy. That was love, she knew. Twenty years from now, she knew that rush would come back whenever he pulled in the driveway or entered a room.

  If they were still together. After this afternoon, she wasn’t so sure that was a possibility.

  “I meant to take a shower before I came to see you,” Matt said. “I wanted to come to you clean at least.” He smiled.

  When he did, the room, the other people around them, dropped away. The air was laden with unfinished business between them. Matt was watching her intently, sapphire eyes full of desire, full of something more. She felt heat rise to her face.

  He had made it clear he wasn’t ready to move on or to tackle anything more serious. And yet, here he was, standing across from her and watching her every move. Like a man in love. Which, of course, he wasn’t. He was just pretending. Putting on a show for his parents, just as he did at the wedding. Wasn’t he?

  “I don’t mind the dirt,” she said. In fact, his disarray was sexy, more masculine than a tuxedo or business suit. She had to resist the urge to reach out and whisk the sawdust from his hair.

  “Good. Because I have something to tell you. To tell all of you,” he said, his gaze taking in his parents, too, “and if I wait any longer, I think I’ll go insane. Please, sit down.”

  Georgianne took a seat at one end of the kitchen table, Edward the other. Katie sat in the seat across from Matt. From the front of the house, the doorbell rang. Everyone ignored it. Whoever it was could come back later.

  Matt folded his hands before him, steepling his fingers against his forehead. She saw a wave of mental resolve harden in his face and he laid his hands flat against the wood. “There’s something about the night the baby died that I didn’t tell you. I figured you’d disown me. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if you still did.”

  “Matt, we’d never—” his mother began.

  Matt shook his head. “Don’t. Wait until I’ve said what I need to before you make promises you can’t keep.” He swallowed, then began. “The baby’s death was my fault.”

  Georgianne gasped. Edward sat stone-still. The doorbell rang again, and once more, no one moved. Katie realized Matt was laying the blame squarely at his own feet, even after what she’d told him about Miss Tanner. It would be easy to point the finger elsewhere, to stop the rumors by blaming another. But he didn’t.

  He seemed to pull on some well of strength within him before continuing. “I was drinking that night. I’d found something that…upset me. I don’t want to get into what it was. Olivia has suffered enough and the ending of our marriage had started long before. I ignored all our problems, thinking it would work out. I was blind, but that night, I saw everything.” He ran a hand through his hair. Motes of sawdust floated to the floor.

  “I drank myself into oblivion. I think I passed out, maybe fell asleep. I don’t know. I don’t remember. When my son stopped breathing,” he swallowed, then dragged the words out, one painful one after the other, “I was stone drunk on the kitchen floor,
curled up with a bottle and my own sorry self.”

  “Matthew,” his mother said, reaching for him.

  He shook his head and pushed her hand away. “When I came to, the baby was dead. I was too late. Too damned late.” His eyes were misting, his knuckles white. “I’m an alcoholic. A decade ago, I had my last drink. But back then, when it mattered, I was a stupid, selfish drunk. And because of that, I lost the only thing that ever mattered to me.” His gaze focused on Katie. “When I tried to keep my own guilt hidden, I lost the only woman I ever loved.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Matt,” Olivia said.

  Everyone turned. She stood in the doorway, her face a mess. Black smudges ringed her eyes and there were clear blotches where her makeup was entirely gone. “I came here to stop you from telling them what happened.”

  She shook her head. “I guess I underestimated you. I thought you’d tell them about Jacob. About what I did.” Her voice broke and the tears began again, a slow trickling break in the steel composure of Olivia. She glanced at Georgianne apologetically. “When no one answered the door, I let myself in. I’d seen Matt’s bike and Katie’s van, and figured he was in here, telling you what a horrible person I am.” She bit her lip. “But you didn’t, did you, Matt?”

  He shook his head.

  She smiled a little, then her gaze dropped to the floor. “I guess I never really knew what a good guy you were. I saw you as a meal ticket.”

  “Olivia,” Matt said, waiting until she looked at him to continue. “You were seventeen and pregnant. Desperate. I understand that now. I don’t blame you. You gave me the greatest gift of my life. Matthew was the best—”

  “Please don’t say it. Please don’t talk about him. I can’t—” She ran a hand through her hair, displacing the carefully-done tendrils. “I tried to make it work between us, Matt, I really did. But I just couldn’t do it. The baby—”

  “That baby had a name, Olivia,” Matt cut in. “Why didn’t you ever call him by name?”

  “Because then I would have loved him too much.” She sank against the wall, looking broken, defeated. “I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t call him by name when I knew…” tears began to stream down her face, “…when I knew he was going to die.”