The Miracle Man

by Sharon Sala

  “Goodness, baby,” she whispered, and patted the gentle swell of her belly to apologize for complaining. “Who would have thought that carrying a little thing like you would make everything else in my body ache?”

  Yet her sense of fair play and unwillingness to deal with an all-out brawl within the family warned her that she had only one outlet.

  “I'll tell Justin and let him deal with everyone else,” she decided aloud, and waved at the sheriff as she sailed through town, hoping that Dan Holley was thinking about fishing and not what she had in the back of the truck.

  Seeing the sheriff brought another lawman to mind, one she kept trying to forget. The memory of Lane should have faded. It had been almost five months since she’d seen him, and in those five months the Smoky Mountains had undergone as drastic a change as she had. But her memories of him were as vivid as the night she’d dragged him from the flood.

  Sometimes during the day when she was lost in some mundane job, with her mind on one thing, her hands on another, the old farmhouse would creak and she would turn, expecting to see Lane come walking into the room. The disappointment that came next was always startling, and she hated herself for being so weak.

  And late at night, when finding a comfortable place in her bed was next to impossible, she would remember the feel of his arms cradling her and the solid thud of his heartbeat against her ear, and she would cry from the loss of it all.

  Lost in thought, she turned into her driveway in a cloud of dust, scattering the covering of autumn-hued leaves that had fallen near the road. She drove the pickup like a red-and-white arrow, streaking up the driveway and moving aside all that lay in her path.

  And that was how Justin saw her as he came out of the barn, her pickup racing just ahead of the dirt and the leaves. He grinned and dumped the tools in the back of his truck, and started toward the house to help her unload.

  “Oh, God,” Toni groaned. Whether she liked it or not, her Waterloo was at hand.

  She crawled out of the pickup and stood, leaving the cab between them as Justin neared the front yard. From where she stood, she could see the expressions on his face as they changed. He’d went from greeting to gawking, and when he leaned over the truck bed and shifted one box to read what was written on the side, then another, then another, he looked up at his sister with an expression that she didn’t want to face.

  “What in the world have you done, Toni? Lucy doesn’t need any of this stuff. The stuff we already have is going to last through her baby years just fine.”

  Toni exhaled slowly, then counted to ten. He thought that she’d bought these things as a gift for his own baby. It figured. He would never expect her to need anything like this for herself.

  “They aren’t for Lucy,” she said. “They're for me.”

  The look in his eyes said it all. Shock turned to disbelief and then to overwhelming rage. He dropped the box that he’d been holding and walked around the truck like a man in a daze. His eyes never left her face until he turned the corner of the truck bed. At that point his gaze went straight to her belly. Toni watched his eyebrows arch and his mouth go slack.

  He cleared his throat several times before he spoke. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Believe what, Justin? That I could possibly be pregnant, or that I didn’t tell you?”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me sooner, sis? No matter what the son of a bitch said to deny it, I would have made damn sure he owned up to what he did to you!”

  Toni felt weak. This was exactly the attitude that she’d expected Justin to have. And when he saw her sway, he grabbed her to keep her from falling and led her to the house.

  “Come inside, honey,” he said as he opened the door and led her into the living room. “Sit down before you fall down. We'll decide what to do as soon as you're feeling better.”

  Toni sighed and stifled a smile as she sat down. It was so like Justin to assume that she needed someone to tell her what to do.

  “I've already decided what I'm doing, Justin. I would think that it was fairly obvious. I made my decision the day I found out I was pregnant. I'm having my baby and thanking God that I can.”

  “I'm not going to insult you by asking who the father is, because this is nothing more than what I feared might happen when you took that bastard Monday in. I told Judy he would take advantage of you. I'll break his damned neck if he doesn’t get himself down here and marry you.”

  This was where it was going to get rough. But Toni didn’t have it in her to lie, or to let Justin keep maligning a man who was as ignorant of the facts as he himself had been until only moments ago.

  “He did not take advantage of me, Justin. In fact, it was just the opposite. He was nothing but a gentleman the whole time he was here.”

  Justin frowned and threw up his hands in frustration. “Don’t try to protect him. You didn’t get like this by yourself. He lied to you, and now you're paying the consequences.” He headed for the telephone in the hall.

  “No!”

  She was shouting as she bolted from her chair and yanked Justin’s hand from the phone before he could make the call.

  Toni’s mouth was grim, her eyes dark with fury. For the moment, she had her brother’s full attention.

  “Now you listen to me, and you listen good! You aren’t going to like this, but it’s the truth. And so help me God, if you do something without my consent, I'll never, and I mean never, speak to you again!”

  Justin went pale. “But, sis, why would you—?”

  “Shut up and listen to me! Just once, will you listen?”

  He bowed his head and waited. He seemed to understand that he had no other choice.

  “Lane Monday never said he loved me. He never told me a thing to lead me to believe he would do anything other than leave when he was well enough to travel. He did not make unwanted advances. Why should he? I'm not the kind of woman a man wants to marry.”

  “What do you mean...you're not the kind of woman a man would marry?”

  She spun toward him, her laughter as sharp and brittle as the lines around her mouth.

  “Do you see any men lined up at my door? Have you ever seen them standing in line for a date with me? No! I don’t think so. It’s fairly obvious to me that men don’t want some big moose to take to bed when they could have a beautiful, feminine lady instead.”

  “Oh, my God.” He buried his face in his hands. “I'm sorry, so sorry. We did this to you. We didn’t mean it, Toni. I swear to God. You're as pretty as any girl I've ever seen. I can’t believe you think that you're not.”

  Her laughter was short and just below a snort of disbelief.

  “I will be thirty years old before this baby is born. I have never been proposed to. I have never even had someone try to take advantage of me. How do you think that makes me feel?” And before he could answer, she told him. “It makes me feel like a failure, Justin. In fact, as a woman, I am a failure. But by God, as a mother, I will be just about perfect. So don’t you dare go and ruin what has happened to me. As far as I'm concerned, it’s a gift from heaven, not something of which I should be ashamed.”

  “I don’t get it,” he persisted. “If the man was such a gentleman, then how did this happen?”

  Toni’s chin went up. Her eyes blazed with a light that Justin didn’t dare dispute.

  “Because I asked him to sleep with me. And I got pregnant because I took no precautions...on purpose.” She leaned closer until they were eye to eye. “Do you understand what I mean? Is that plain enough for you?”

  “I can’t believe that in this day and time a man with his background would just blindly sleep with a woman without taking precautions of his own, or at least ask about them.”

  Toni’s voice faltered, but her gaze did not. “He didn’t ignore it. He asked me if I was protected. I didn’t exactly lie to him, but I also didn’t tell him the truth. I purposely let him believe it was safe.”

  She’d said all she was going to say about an inciden
t that was her own painful, personal memory, then spun toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To the pickup. I have things to unload. I'm hiring painters next week and redoing the bedroom next to mine. I think I'll paint the walls green like my Tennessee hills, and have Marcy Simmons, the high school art teacher, do a mural. Maybe I'll have her add some trees and birds to it, too, sort of like an American jungle, if you know what I mean. What do you think?”

  Justin’s mood was a shadow of its former belligerence. “I think you don’t need to hire the painters. David and I will paint the damned walls green. We'll paint them black and blue if it will make you happy. Just let me help.” And then he added, “Damn it, sis, I need to help.”

  Tension slipped out of her stance as quickly as it had come. She smiled, then stood aside to hold back the door.

  “Okay,” she said. “And just because I love you, I'm going to let you have the privilege of dealing with 'some assembly required.'”

  She heard him groan as he passed, but it didn’t matter. The worst was over. Saying it aloud hadn’t been easy, but not nearly as difficult as she’d expected it to be. And as for the rest of the family, the grapevine and the telephone would do the rest. They could think what they chose, and say what they must, as long as they kept the news to themselves. The last thing she needed was for someone to mind her business and tell Lane Monday that he was going to be a father. She knew her brothers. They would all bow to Justin’s decisions, just as they had during their growing-up years.

  That is, all of them except Wyatt. The youngest Hatfield male and only four years older than Toni, he’d been a rebel from the day he’d learned how to walk. If anyone would interfere, it would be Wyatt. But Toni knew her younger brother would never get the chance to put in his two cents. He’d walked off the family farm on his eighteenth birthday, joined the marines and went off to “see the world,” as the poster at the recruiting station had promised.

  Yes, Toni didn’t know when they’d be seeing Wyatt Hatfield again.

  * * *

  “Is the turkey about done, Aunt Toni?”

  Bobby Hatfield’s plaintive cry was nothing more than an echo of the same lament that she’d heard from every other hungry mouth awaiting the arrival of “the bird.”

  “Almost, sweetie,” she said, softly. “Go wash, and tell your cousins to do the same.” She ruffled his short, dark hair before sending him scooting with a pat on the rear.

  The heat from the old, roomy kitchen was near to intense, Just like the marathon baking it had just endured. Pies in sundry shapes and scents lined the sideboard while hot rolls, fresh from the oven, mounded the breadbaskets at either end of the table.

  Toni eyed the feast critically and knew that she would be glad when this day was over. Volunteering to hostess this annual event had been done without thinking of the backbreaking chores that would accompany it. Thankfully, the army of able sisters-in-law had done more than their fair share of adding to the Thanksgiving repast, but the effort had taken its toll on her.

  “Is it done?”

  Toni turned and grinned at Justin, who hovered at her elbow with a hungry look that matched the one his son had been wearing.

  “Like father, like son. And yes, it’s done.”

  “I'll lift it out for you,” he said, taking the pot holders from her hands.

  She willingly gave up the chore. Bending was difficult enough these days without bringing a twenty-five-pound turkey, hot from the oven, up with her as she stood.

  “Let me finish for you,” Judy offered as she sidestepped two other helpers to get to the bird that needed to be transferred to the platter.

  Toni sighed, smiled and moved aside for the time being, allowing them to interfere because it made her family feel as if they were helping her cope. But the truth be known, she was coping pretty well on her own.

  She wandered to the kitchen window overlooking the front yard, and smiled to herself as she watched the yardful of children at play.

  Next year...or maybe the next when the baby is a little older, he, or she, will be out there, too.

  Her vision blurred as she looked into the future, imagining that she could almost see the dark little head and the short, baby steps of a toddler wobbling about, investigating every rock and leaf in its path.

  And then her world and everything in it suddenly came back into focus as she saw a black sports car pull up and park among all the other vehicles and the tall, dark-haired driver start toward the house.

  His stride was laconic. She knew if she were closer, she would be able to see devils dancing in the soft brown depths of eyes just like her own.

  “Oh, my God,” she gasped, and headed for the door.

  “What is it? Did one of the children get hurt?” Justin was right behind her before she got out the door.

  “It’s Wyatt!” she cried. “Wyatt came home for Thanksgiving!”

  Toni, still graceful even in the latter stages of pregnancy, bounded from the back porch and started toward him across the yard, dodging kids and footballs with every other step. “Wyatt! Wyatt! Welcome home!”

  “Well, well,” he muttered, grinning. “My, how things have changed.”

  He caught her in midflight and swung her off of her feet and up into the air, completely disregarding her condition as well as the shock on everyone else’s face.

  “Be careful, Wyatt!” Justin shouted, then breathed a sigh of relief when his brother finally put Toni’s feet back on earth.

  One after the other, Wyatt hugged and greeted, pounded backs and kissed cheeks.

  “Come back inside,” Toni finally said. “You're just in time to carve the turkey.”

  Everyone began filing back into the house, but Wyatt caught Toni’s hand and tugged it in a teasing gesture, speaking softly to her alone.

  “Honey, I think you should let your husband carve the turkey. I haven’t had the pleasure yet, but if I were the man of the house, I would be expecting to do the honors myself, especially on Thanksgiving.”

  Toni stopped. When she turned to face him, the shock had all but disappeared from her eyes.

  “Justin didn’t tell you, did he?” she asked.

  Wyatt frowned. “Tell me what?”

  Toni sighed, unaware that she absently rubbed her belly in a protective gesture, then started to explain. “There is no man of the house, Wyatt. I'm what you might call an unwed mother. And before you get all indignant, you need to know that it’s by choice. That’s also all you need to know. Get it?”

  It was hard to explain the rage that settled deep in his belly. It didn’t even make sense for him to care when he’d all but abandoned the entire family for the better part of twenty years. But something about the way that Toni held herself apart from the words, as if she had faced the truth of her condition without facing the pain, told him that it wasn’t all right, and he wasn’t about to put up and shut up as she expected.

  He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “You always were a hardheaded, prissy little thing,” he said gruffly. “I can see some things never change.” He stepped back. “So where’s that bird in need of a trim? I'm hungry as hell, and so glad to be home that I don’t even care if I eat off the tail.”

  Toni grinned. “I was never prissy, not one day in my entire life. If I had been, I would have been better off.”

  Wyatt pondered the oddity of her remark all during dinner and long into the night after everyone else had gone home. What Toni didn’t know, and what Wyatt hadn’t decided until he’d set foot back on Tennessee soil and seen the condition his family was in, was that he wasn’t going anywhere. At least not yet.

  His life had gone to hell in a hand basket, but there was no reason for his sister to wind up the same way. He would find out what he needed to know and then fix it.

  * * *

  Living through holidays had always been rough for Lane, and this year had been no different. A child of foster homes and faceless pretend-parents, he
’d only truly known family life after marrying Sharla. The short time that they had been together, he’d gotten a taste of what it meant to have someone else who cared. When she died, the hole it had left in his life was even bigger and emptier than the one he’d had before they’d met.

  On the job he was always the man who volunteered to do holiday duty. It was no sacrifice on his part to show up at work because he had no one at home. In fact, it had helped him to get through the loneliest parts of the year.

  But when Thanksgiving rolled around this year, he found himself thinking of Toni and that wild brood of Hatfields he’d met, and he could only imagine what dinner would be like in that household. It would be full of laughter and love, leaving a warmth deep inside a man that had nothing to do with the heat from a fire.

  The want that came with the sound of her name and the memory of her face still amazed him. He should have been over a woman who he had never really claimed. The memory of the passion that they had shared should have faded.

  Should have, but had not.

  And yet when the need to reconnect with her came, it was always followed by a silent warning to himself that he couldn’t get involved with another woman. All he had to do was think of what he’d done to Sharla and then transpose that horror and fear onto Toni’s face. It was enough to put a damper on the fiercest of needs.

  * * *

  “Monday! Phone for you! Line two!”

  The voice snapped him out of his reverie. Lane spun in his chair and picked up the phone. “This is Monday.”

  “This is Wyatt Hatfield. We haven’t had the pleasure, but I'm—”

  Lane sat upright. “You're one of Toni’s brothers, aren’t you? I remember her talking about you.” And then a shot of adrenaline surged. Why should this man be calling? “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Antonette?” he asked, unaware that his voice had come out sounding like a growl.

  “Yes, you could say that,” Wyatt drawled.

  “What happened? Damn it, man, get it said!” Oh, God, Lane thought. I didn’t know it would hurt this bad to say her name.