by Alison Kent
When Willa frowned, Jennifer laughed. “Don’t you dare tell him I said this, but he’s a very sensitive, tender man. He doesn’t show that side of himself to many people. But I’ve seen it. And I know he would never choose his career over a woman he loves, no matter what nonsense he spouts about his calling to serve and protect.”
Time to return Jennifer’s honesty. Willa offered a weak but accepting smile. “He doesn’t love me, you know.”
“Excuse me?” Jennifer had incredulity—the wide eyes, the doubting tone—down to an art.
“This pregnancy was an accident, if you can believe that of two intelligent adults in this day and age.” Willa still had trouble believing it, but her disbelief stemmed from a place she wasn’t yet ready to share with Joel’s sister. “It’s a long story and best saved for another time. Suffice it to say that Joel and I were lovers in the most practical, purely sexual sense of the word.”
“Were lovers?”
Willa nodded. “We’re back to being friends. Better friends than before, obviously. And friends who have a real good reason to stay on speaking terms considering this... partnership we’re involved in.”
“Partnership.” Jennifer nodded slowly, glanced toward her brother then back. “Do you love him, Willa?”
Did she love him? Willa looked across the yard to Joel. She picked him out there in that group of men. But she couldn’t tell if he was talking. Or listening. She couldn’t tell much at all with her vision blurred by unshed tears.
She blinked, blew out a breath. “He asked me to marry him, you know. I told him no.”
“Because you don’t think he loves you.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Uh, Willa, Sweetie. We need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty
WILLA WASN’T SURE IF SHE’D ever find clear skies or if she’d be stuck forever in this cloud of confusion. She and Jennifer had talked until Leigh grew fussy and had to be fed.
Jennifer wanted Willa to come along and continue their conversation, but she’d declined. It was barely past noon and she was all talked out.
Sitting on the secluded bench and watching the gathering from afar, she picked one of Madelyn’s daisies, plucked one petal then another.
He loves me. He loves me not.
So far today, she’d heard from Jennifer, Carolyn, Moira, Madelyn, and Fred that Joel loved her. Of course, if she took any of the Wolfsleys at their word, she’d have to believe that Joel hung the moon and the stars as well.
Her visit with Jennifer had been the most enlightening—and offered the most hope that Joel’s bark was worse than his bite. Not that she’d minded his bite in the least. But his bark about needing to remain free and unencumbered wasn’t going to be easy to live with—not after seeing the Wolfsleys in action.
He loves me. He loves me not.
How hard would it be to be a part of something she wasn’t truly a part of? Oh, she’d be welcomed with open arms as the mother of a Wolfsley. But she’d be an outsider. Willa Grace Darling. Not Willa Wolfsley.
She choked back the sudden sob that came from nowhere to burn a path from her chest to her throat. Willa Wolfsley. That was the first time she’d paired her name with Joel’s.
She hadn’t done any schoolgirl scribblings or carved their initials into the trunk of a tree. She’d had no reason to. She knew upon becoming his lover that they had no real future ahead.
He loves me. He loves me not.
It was time to get practical. To make decisions that needed to be made in the best interest of her and her child. Whether she and Joel would share custody. Whether she would seek sole custody and grant him visitation. Whether she would sell her place and move the kennels to another part of town. She could provide quite well for her child on her own.
It was time to face facts. Loving Joel—living next door and loving Joel was not going to be easy. She knew she’d grow weak where he was concerned. She knew she’d invite him into her bed. She knew she’d sell her soul to lie with him, to love him even when he loved her not in return. And that couldn’t happen.
He loves me. He loves me not.
He loves me not.
HE FOUND HER ON THE bench beneath the willow tree. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her heels tucked close to her body, her arms wrapped around her updrawn legs. Her chin rested in the V of her knees and her unbound hair fell over one shoulder.
She followed his approach with big blue eyes, eyes wide with emotion, but dry, not damp. At least she hadn’t been sitting here crying. It was bad enough that she’d been sitting here alone.
When he moved to sit beside her, she straightened, lowering her feet to the ground. Hands gripping the edge of the bench, she stared out into the yard at the women circling the long tables of food, at the teams of five playing softball at the back of the yard, at the group of men gathered near the pit while the meat was lifted onto platters and trays.
He wondered what she saw besides the boisterous preparations of family and food. She didn’t share his memories of past Wolfsley gatherings. She didn’t have his connection to the people present. She observed as would any outsider. Which was what she was. Even while she carried a child that wouldn’t be.
He wondered how that made her feel.
He wondered how lonely her life had been.
He wondered if she knew how much he loved her.
“Willa. We need to talk.”
WILLA LAUGHED TO HERSELF. She’d heard those words already from so many people that hearing them from Joel didn’t come as a surprise. Talking seemed to be the Wolfsley way. “You won’t believe how many people have said that to me today.”
“Yeah? Well, we’re a talkative bunch.” Elbows braced on wide-spread knees, he laced his fingers together and leaned his weight forward.
Talkative. Curious. Well-meaning. Protective of their own. “Talkative.” She nodded, glanced in his direction. “I guess you could say that. Y‘all are a nice bunch, no matter. It’s been fun meeting everyone,” she said but knew she hadn’t sounded terribly convincing.
“We’re just people, Willa. Maybe a bit rowdy. Definitely a bit loud. But just people.”
People who belonged to one of the closest and craziest families she’d met in her life. Willa smiled—convincingly—and glanced from the wide backyard of goings-on to the man at her side. “Not just people, Joel. Family. You’re lucky to have them. All of them.”
“Except for when they can’t keep their collective noses out of our business, you mean,” he said without a hint of rancor.
The collective Wolfsleys had obviously been working on him as well today. And now that she and Joel were sitting here, together, in a spot secluded but not invisible to prying eyes... Willa groaned.
“You okay?” Joel reached over, squeezed her knee.
“I’m fine.” She ignored the tender warmth of his hand and slanted him a sly glance. “You know what they’re all thinking, don’t you?”
Joel frowned, then looked out at the various faces sneaking not-so-covert glances toward the weeping willow. He rolled his eyes. “I can pretty much guess.”
“So, do we sit here a while and drive them crazy? Make them wonder what we’re talking about?” It was much easier to keep the conversation light and impersonal The heavy stuff would come up soon enough.
“We can do that.” Joel leaned back. He squared an ankle on the opposite knee, stretched his arms along the back of the bench, tickled his fingertips beneath the hair at her nape. “Or we can give them what they’re waiting for.”
Willa’s head whipped toward Joel almost before the words left his mouth—and left in a voice gone as rich as the colors swirling around her feet.
What she saw in his eyes was not what she wanted to see in his eyes because nothing about that look was light and impersonal. It was dark and it was deep and it spoke of a change in the air. Something electric. Something... new and rich and hopeful.
Oh, God. She needed to keep him distracted. Keep the mood light.
“You want to put on a show for their benefit?”
Joel sat forward again, leaned heavily on his elbows then shifted to the side to face her, his mouth a thin line, his throat working, his jaw set and firm. He lifted his gaze then, and his eyes... Oh, his eyes. They were green and they were feeling and they reflected all her dreams.
“No, Willa,” he said quietly. “Not for their benefit. Not for their benefit at all.”
No. Oh, no. Heavy had arrived and she wasn’t prepared. Willa got to her feet before Joel had a chance to drop to one knee. Not that he was about to... She didn’t know what he was thinking.
She only knew that the way he was looking at her was a look too intimate for a backyard party. It was a look that belonged in a bedroom, beneath dim lights and sun-dried sheets. A look that had her body responding with a flush of skin and a rapid pulse and a belly flush with need.
She’d thought at first he’d meant to kiss her, a playful teasing kiss for show. But he’d grown so somber and she couldn’t deal with anything somber here and now with three dozen minus one people looking on and wondering.
She began to pace. The path in front of the bench was short, but still she paced.
Slowly Joel stood. “Willa? What’s wrong?”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. Of course, he hadn’t meant to propose. How silly of her. How totally ridiculous she was to think such a thing. How insane she had to be to torture herself this way, to stay here and stay calm and stay in one piece.
“Willa?” He took hold of her upper arm, gently squeezed. “What’s going on?”
“I was just thinking—” What? What was she thinking? She caught a whiff of mesquite smoke and said, “It must be time to eat?”
“Getting close, I’m sure.” Joel let go of her arm but stayed where he was, cutting her off midpace. “If food is really what’s on your mind.”
“No. It’s not.” She couldn’t move so she sat. And she sighed. And she set her mind to putting closure to this conversation—a prelude for another closure to come later. “But right now it’s all I can deal with. Please try to understand. As much as I’m enjoying myself, this isn’t easy for me.”
“Willa.” Joel settled back at her side. His knee brushed hers and he left it there. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing you here. I just wanted you to meet everyone.”
“And for everyone to meet me. Since I’ll be giving birth to a Wolfsley.” Funny how the truth sounded just as bad spoken as when it had been only an unvoiced thought.
Joel looked more than uncomfortable, but not quite guilty. He seemed to be searching, struggling as if this moment and these words would stop time if not well-spoken.
“I didn’t bring you here on a test drive, Willa. I’m not looking to see how you fit in with my family. Or how they take to you. I wanted you to meet them and vice versa. That’s all.”
“It doesn’t feel like that’s all. It feels like I’m here on approval. That you’re showing me off as a womb—not a woman.” He started to speak and she cut him off with a wave of one hand. “Don’t get me wrong. Everyone has been wonderfully warm and welcoming.
“But then I’ll look up and catch you staring and I almost feel like you’re grading me on some test. I’m not sure I’m passing.” She closed her eyes, hung her head, lifted her lashes slowly. The gravel path beneath her feet seemed to swim. “I’m not sure I want to pass.”
“Criminy, Willa. What’re you talking about?”
“I can’t do this, Joel. I can’t exchange pleasantries with these people over and over again like I belong... when I don’t.”
“Of course you belong. You’re carrying my child which makes you—”
“What?” She looked up sharply. Let him see her tears, she no longer cared to hide. “A family friend? That’s not quite accurate, is it? You and I are friends. I suppose. But I’m not friends with the rest of your family.”
Joel drew both hands over his eyes and down his face. “You just met them, Willa. Friendship takes time.”
“And how often will I be seeing them? Holidays? There aren’t a lot of those during the year, you know. What? Maybe a dozen? One a month?” She did the math and nodded. “Twelve hours a month is hardly enough time to nurture a friendship. Certainly not to the point where I see myself shopping for baby things with your mother. Or shopping for girl things with Jennifer. You know, the things girlfriends do.”
Joel frowned. “Why not?”
“What do I have in common with either of them but you and this baby?”
“That’s not reason enough?”
Her voice had grown shrill with her last question. She tempered it now. “If things were different, it might be.”
“Different? What things?”
Was the man really so dense? “You, Joel. You. Now that you’ve reconciled yourself to the idea of parenthood, what‘s to stop you from changing your mind about other things? What if you fall in love and get married and have other children? Where am I going to fit in then?”
The change in his expression was that of an unexpected ice-water bath. But that quickly warmed into one of hot apple crisp and cream. He was entirely too pleased with himself for Willa’s comfort.
He almost had to bite his own lip to hold back a smile. “That would bother you? If I were to get married?”
Dense wasn’t the word she’d been looking for. Calculating, devious. Designing, sly. She got to her feet to pace again. “Never mind. Just never mind.”
“Uh-uh. No way are you going to never mind your way out of this one. I want to know why what happens in my life makes a difference to your relationship with my family.”
“C‘mon, Joel. I can’t bring our child here for the next Fourth of July Come ’N‘ Get It if you’re here with a wife and new baby.”
“Why not, Willa?” He was on his feet now, too. And in her way again. Taking hold of both her shoulders and managing only the gentlest of shakes. “Why not?”
“Damn you, Joel Wolfsley. I love you,” she cried out.
And then she sobbed one loud hiccup and caught her breath. Great. Just great. Pushing her hair back from her face, she grimaced. “There. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? I love you,” she repeated, her voice softer the second time around.
It was a moment before he spoke. A moment filled with his loud silence. Then his shoulders seemed to broaden, his chest grew full and wide, he seemed ten inches taller than he had moments ago and his smile encompassed all outdoors.
“Yes, Willa. It was exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“Let’s eat!” Fred Wolfsley’s voice boomed across the yard.
“What timing, huh?” Willa sniffed. “Now you’re off the hook. You don’t have to say something you don’t mean just to make me feel better. In fact,” she turned to go, spoke over her shoulder, “you don’t have to say anything at all.”
He stopped her with a hand at her elbow and pulled her back. “Willa, wait. I don’t say what I don’t mean. You know me well enough to know that.”
“Joel, I’m hungry. I’m eating for two, you know. And I’d like to go do just that.”
He scraped a hand over his hair, his smile still there but fading as his tongue tripped over a dozen words before he said, “I need to say something here.”
“No. Not here. Not now. Later.” Later when I won’t have to put on a benefit show. When I can have my heart broken in private just in case the news is bad. “Later. Okay?”
He nodded, and then she turned away before her pride and common sense succumbed to the desperate hope she felt when she looked in his eyes.
She could do this, this one thing, this one little thing, if she didn’t have to look into his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-one
JOEL HADN’T TASTED A THING he’d eaten. Oh, there were enough bare bones and puddles of barbecue sauce on his plate to account for the urge to unbutton his shorts and relieve the pressure on his stomach. But his mouth felt as dry and metallic as a spent shell.<
br />
Must’ve been the empty taste left by the words he had yet to say.
He slumped back in his lounger, planted his feet on the grassy ground on either side, and propped his plate on the seat between his knees. Even finishing off a second tumbler of iced tea didn’t wet his whistle, and he needed it wet because he had a lot of talking to do.
The meal had been a necessary evil. He’d brought Willa here to meet his family, to get her away from the kennels for a while, but most of all to talk, to tell her of the things he’d been thinking, the conclusions he’d drawn, the decisions he’d reached.
He would’ve been happy to skip the meal altogether, but no one skipped meals around Fred and Madelyn Wolfsley and lived to tell the tale.
Listening to the men around him debate the future of Houston’s professional sports teams, Joel glanced across the yard. Willa’s lawn chair sat between Moira’s and Jen’s in the half circle the women had formed. Female laughter reached Joel’s ears. Not Willa’s laughter, but that of his sisters, his mother, and the rest.
Willa had picked at her food, eaten a slice or two of brisket and half an ear of corn on the cob, but no more than a bite of potato salad or two of the baked beans. She hadn’t touched the relish tray—not even for one of his mother’s homemade pickles.
Pickles and pregnancy were a myth, he knew, or at least he thought he knew. Thing was, he didn’t know nearly all he wanted to know—not about pickles and myths and old wives’ tales and pregnancy in general, but about Willa. And this pregnancy. Their pregnancy.
He wanted to know if she did have food cravings and what she most wanted to eat. He wanted to know if she felt the baby move yet. How soon did that happen anyway? And when would he be able to feel the tiny kicks and jabs as their child grew in Willa’s womb? Was she taking care of herself, following doctor’s orders, getting enough rest, remembering her vitamins?
She laughed then and brought Joel back from the picture of her heavy with child. His child. Their child. He blinked hard, suddenly filled with the tenderest and fiercest need to hold this woman, to feel her heart beat with the life she so fully lived, with the love she so freely gave. Her life, her love, both of which had touched him and given his future a new direction.
