Married at Midnight

by Gerri Russell

  “That bad?” Jordan asked with wide, curious eyes.

  Ellie set her empty glass down, then sank back against the chair. “It’s time I tell you both the truth.”

  Jordan, already knowing part of what she planned to reveal, gave her an encouraging look.

  Olivia frowned. “The truth about what?”

  Ellie slowly straightened and brought up her chin. Telling her two best friends everything might help her find the peace she’d been searching for. “Connor and I might be married, but we’re only staying so to give Viola something to live for.”

  “Oh my.” Olivia blinked in surprise but rallied quickly. “So you’re pretending to be married?”

  “No, we’re really married, but instead of getting an instant divorce like I wanted to in Las Vegas, Connor talked me into staying married until Viola’s health improved enough to tell her the truth.”

  Jordan frowned. “Who decides when Viola is well enough?”

  “We decided to end our marriage when Grayson House was finished and the Holiday Street of Dreams began. We figured that Viola would be better by then.”

  “What happens after that? You simply go your separate ways?” Olivia asked with a frown.

  “Connor’s already seen to our divorce papers. We’ll have to wait until the usual waiting period passes, but then everything will be over between us.” Ellie looked down at her clutched hands. “Only three more days until I’m unemployed and a soon-to-be divorcée.”

  Jordan scooted her drink over to Ellie. “I’m sorry things have to end this way.”

  “They don’t.” Olivia sat back against her chair with a mutinous look on her face. “You can’t go through with the divorce. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. It would be wrong to break apart what is truly meant to be.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Olivia. Our marriage was never meant to be. Connor has always and will always put his work above everything else—and that includes me.” Ellie swallowed past the lump in her throat.

  Olivia reached for her hand, and Jordan put hers on top of the others. Finally Olivia spoke. “I’ve never known you to be a quitter, Ellie. Let’s figure out a solution to this problem. We’re three smart women. I’m sure we can come up with something.”

  “I don’t want to come up with any scheme. For once in my life, I’m being a realist. Connor made it very clear from the beginning what our relationship would and wouldn’t become. I’m the one who changed. He didn’t. There’s nothing keeping us together.”

  Olivia smiled. “I wouldn’t say nothing. You definitely have chemistry on your side.”

  Ellie blushed. “Even that’s not enough. Great sex won’t solve anyone’s problems.”

  “I’d like to give it a try,” Jordan said wistfully.

  Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “Never fear, Jordan. With Olivia and I having already bungled our love lives, I’d say your turn is next.”

  “Hey,” Olivia protested, hugging the tiny mound of her abdomen, “my relationship with Max turned out okay.”

  Ellie instantly sobered. “You are one of the lucky ones.”

  “We’re all lucky,” Olivia objected. “After all, isn’t that why we started this get-together at The Lucky Club in the first place, because we were tired of being unlucky in love?” Olivia’s voice broke on the last words, and tears filled her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “It’s the hormones. Everything emotional makes me cry these days.”

  Jordan and Ellie shared a glance before nodding. Neither of them felt too lucky at the moment, but neither of them would argue with their friend. If she wanted to believe their weekly meetings had changed the course of their lives, who were they to argue with a hormonal, pregnant woman?

  Desperate to change the subject, Ellie said, “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

  Jordan scooted her drink back and took a long sip, presumably to avoid the subject.

  “Max and I are hosting a dinner for both of our families. Paige and the Millers and all their foster kids are coming, too,” Olivia said.

  “That sounds like a lot of work for you,” Ellie replied.

  “Not at all.” Olivia’s eyes dried and her smile returned as the hormones settled back into a more normal state. “Max hired a chef. He won’t let me do a thing until the baby’s born.”

  “That’s in five more months.” Jordan’s eyes went wide.

  Olivia shrugged. “He’s being overprotective, I agree. When I need to, I’ll resurrect my stubborn streak.”

  Ellie turned to Jordan. “What about you? Please say you’ll come. I could use some support.”

  Jordan frowned. “Isn’t Viola getting married the same day?”

  Ellie nodded. “To her bridegroom, whoever that may be.”

  Jordan raised a brow. “Has she told the guy he’s getting married yet?”

  Ellie winced. “Since they needed to apply for a wedding license, I sure hope so. But she’s keeping the details a secret.”

  Jordan threw Ellie a conspiratorial wink. “We could go to the courthouse and search the public records.”

  Ellie laughed. “And give Viola a reason to make my life a living hell? No, thank you!”

  “I’m not working . . . all right. I’ll come. The day will be entertaining if nothing else,” Jordan agreed.

  “So glad I can provide you with a distraction,” Ellie said, smiling at the one person who could help her keep her emotions in check during one of her last few days with Connor.

  Since Ellie was out for the evening with her girlfriends, Connor decided to do something he’d been dreading for the last three weeks: seeing his father. No matter how painful facing the truth might be, neither of them could avoid it any longer.

  Connor headed to his father’s Queen Anne home only a few miles away from Viola’s. Parking his car in the driveway, he allowed himself a nostalgic smile at the sight of the garage. It was the place where many of his initial inventions had occurred.

  The kitchen light and living-room lights were on, signaling his father was home. He climbed the shallow front steps and knocked on the door.

  His father answered the door with a puzzled look on his face. “What brings you around?” he asked as he stepped aside and allowed Connor to enter. “I thought you’d be at home with that wife of yours. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Biting back a retort, Connor replied instead, “I came to see how you are and to give you some news.”

  His father’s sharp hazel eyes met his, but he remained silent as he took a seat in the living room in his favorite recliner, the one he’d had as far back as Connor could remember. That was his father in a nutshell: a man who held on to things—not people—as long as he could. With hope, tonight he would let go of his past once and for all.

  “We need to talk about Mom.”

  “No.” His father scowled. “I asked you never to mention that woman in my presence a long time ago.”

  “Don’t you think it’s been long enough? Harboring hate has ruined not only your life but mine as well,” Connor went on, undeterred. They would have this discussion whether his father liked it or not.

  His father’s gaze grew increasingly sharp. “If that’s what you want to talk about, you can leave.” The bitterness in his voice was no surprise.

  “She’s dead.”

  Clark Grayson’s stormy expression faded, leaving his face pale and gaunt. There was a long pause before his father swallowed and asked, “How do you know this?”

  “My friend Trevor ran her information through the SPD database. I figured twenty-four years was long enough for us to not have any answers.” They’d come this far; there was no retreat now.

  His father closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay, so she’s dead. I guess I can stop worrying about running into her someday and not knowing how to respond.”

  “There’s more.”

  His father snapped his eyes open. He regarded Connor with reluctant curiosity. “Well, don’t keep
it to yourself. You got me this worked up. You might as well go all the way.”

  “She died six months after she left us.”

  Clark clutched his hands in his lap.

  “Trevor found the hospice center where Mom died, and I spoke to her hospice nurse. Even after all this time, the woman remembered Mom because of the way she talked about her husband and son.”

  “She had regrets?” his father asked in a raw voice.

  Connor nodded. “The nurse said Mom’s last words were all about how she wished she could have watched her son grow up, and how deeply she regretted not being able to grow old with her husband at her side.”

  While his father stared off into the distance, Connor said, “Mom died from an inoperable brain tumor.”

  His dad remained silent for a long moment, but emotion definitely stewed behind his hazel eyes. “Not sure what you think this all proves.”

  “It proves,” Connor continued, determined not to let his father dismiss what he said, “that she was sick before she left us, though neither of us knew. It also proves that it wasn’t something we said or did or didn’t do that caused her to leave.”

  Clark clenched his hands in his lap, his fingertips turning white. A sheen of tears came to his eyes. “She didn’t love us enough to stay.”

  Connor shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Not after talking to the hospice nurse. I believe she thought she was protecting us in some way by keeping us from her disease.”

  “I would’ve been there for her to the end. Watching her die would’ve been hard, but I could’ve done it.” Tears fell onto his father’s cheeks, and he sank back into his chair. “It would have been so much easier to actually grieve for her instead of harboring such hate for the majority of my life.”

  Connor knew how his father felt in that moment where truth collided with past beliefs. But only once his father faced the truth would there be space in his heart for possibility.

  “We aren’t hopeless, Dad,” Connor said, voicing his newfound belief. “And it’s not too late for both of us to find some happiness in this life.”

  His father nodded absently.

  A moment ticked past, then another, until his father finally dragged in a huge breath. “Thank you for telling me and for being brave enough to find out what happened. I have a lot of thinking to do and some apologies to make.” He eyed Connor approvingly, then looked down at his hands. He unfurled them, smoothing them on the legs of his pants. “I should have had the courage years ago to do what you did.”

  Connor held his father’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter who did what, when. What matters is what we do with the truth. And, if you’d like to hear about Mom yourself from the hospice nurse, she’s agreed to talk with you.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  A heavy silence pervaded the room as both Connor and his father were caught up in their own thoughts. After a long while, Clark sat up. “Will you stay for dinner? I’d really like to spend more time with my son.”

  Connor offered his dad a smile. “Sounds great. What are we having?”

  “Steak and beer sound good? I think a little celebration is in order.”

  “A celebration?” Connor asked, slightly perplexed. What could they be celebrating when he’d just told his father about his mother’s death?

  The muscles at the corner of his father’s mouth pulled up in a funny way, no doubt because the man hadn’t allowed himself a moment’s happiness in years. “It’s time we celebrated every one of those birthdays you missed. And it’s time I started being the father you deserve.”

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, son.” The smile he’d been trying to muster pushed its way forward, lighting his father’s face in a way that made him look ten years younger, changing everything.

  A sense of satisfaction settled over Connor, leaving him feeling energized, because the impossible suddenly seemed possible. Love had transformed his father. Could it do the same for him?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Wednesday afternoon Ellie arrived home after running to the grocery store for two last-minute items she needed for their Thanksgiving meal. She found Connor waiting for her in the parlor with a thick manila envelope in his hands.

  His full attention was on her the moment she stepped into the room. “Can we talk?” Connor’s tone was warm and friendly, but something heavier reflected in his clear, green eyes.

  She set her grocery bag down. “Sure. About what?” But she already knew.

  “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving.”

  Ellie sat gingerly on the edge of the chair beside him. The way he looked at her, with that rather sad smile, sent a shard of fear to her core. This was it. He would hand her their final divorce papers, and the process would begin. Then after the ninety-day waiting period was through, their uncontested divorce would be final.

  It was time for her to wake up from her dreamworld now, because he’d always said their agreement had an end date.

  “Ellie? You look like you’re a million miles away,” he said.

  “Sorry, just thinking. What were you saying?” She had to force herself not to lean toward him. No matter what he held in his hands, her attraction to him remained unchanged.

  Connor shifted in his chair. “Our marriage—”

  The words had barely left Connor’s lips when his cell phone chimed.

  With a dark frown, he set the papers on the table beside him and drew his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen. “It’s the lab. Sorry, I need to take this.”

  Her mouth felt dry, and her throat swelled. This was like that moment when the jury came back into the courtroom and was asked to render their verdict. The moments ticked past, fate suspended.

  Connor continued to stare at her. His eyes clouded with confusion while he listened to the person on the other end of the line. “You’re sure?” he said as the look in his eyes shifted to panic.

  Her ragged heartbeat almost obliterated all other sounds.

  “I’m on my way.” He ended the call and stood, stuffing his cell phone back inside the pocket of his jeans. “I’m sorry, Ellie. This has to wait. There’s been a break-in at the lab. It looks serious. I have to go.”

  “Of course.” She stood.

  Connor moved forward, his gaze fixed on Ellie’s face. “We’re not done here. We have so much more to discuss, if fate will only allow us.” An odd grin came to his face.

  The look did funny things to her brain and filled her with a renewed sense of hope. Or was she simply imagining things? She shook the thoughts away. “How did the intruder get past the security system?”

  “No one seems to know. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was over before it began, but the effect on her nerves was just as powerful as if he’d ravished her.

  He grabbed his coat and left.

  Ellie stood frozen as her gaze shifted to the white envelope Connor had abandoned. There was a note paper-clipped to the front. She moved closer to read what it said.

  Do we have other options?

  Connor

  The cursive handwriting was neat and tidy. Exactly the kind of writing she’d expected of him. Smiling, she folded the note and put it in the pocket of her jeans. She could think of lots of options.

  A moment passed, and her smile slipped. She should be thinking about the break-in and hoping there was a happy resolution there. Instead, she was breathing too fast and hoping with all her heart for the impossible to happen for Connor and her.

  Had he decided to change the terms of their agreement? Maybe believing in happy endings wasn’t going to break her heart in two. Perhaps she and Connor really could have the perfect future she’d imagined in her dreams.

  While she waited for him to return, she had another happy ending to facilitate. After putting the groceries away, she made her way up the grand staircase to the ballroom on the second floor.

  She’d turned the wide-open space into a winter wonderla
nd where Viola’s wedding would take place. Flocked Christmas trees decorated with crystals and white lights lined the perimeter of the room. She’d set the white chairs, white runner, and two rows of white poinsettias situated around four towers of white flowers that lined the approach to the white wedding bower. Two rows of pillar candles in clear vases would give the room a magical, fairylike feel when lit.

  For Viola, she’d chosen a beautiful ice-blue satin gown encrusted with seed pearls. Viola had assured Ellie the groom would wear white. Did that mean her bridegroom would be George in his White Elvis costume? Those Elvises who were not the groom would make up the rest of the wedding party.

  At the thought, Ellie frowned. It seemed rather ironic that she and Connor, as well as Viola and her bridegroom, had started their marriages the same way—with the Elvises involved. Or was it a coincidence? she wondered for the second time.

  Connor had called it fate a short time ago.

  Another realization crystallized, and she reached in her pocket for the note Connor had left her—a note in his handwriting. She studied the writing that was so different from the bold, almost slanted script on the notes and the poem he’d left before.

  Suspicion sluiced through her, twisting her stomach. Someone else had written the other notes—someone else who desperately wanted them to stay together. The question was, who?

  Had it been the Elvises who’d married them? Had she and Connor fallen into some twisted Elvis plot for Viola’s sake? Had Viola manipulated everything that had happened between them?

  Did Connor know? Maybe that’s what he’d wanted to talk to her about, “their options.” Not their divorce, but how manipulated the past five weeks had been for both of them.

  Oh heavens . . . Ellie released a fractured breath as she staggered to the closest white chair. She dropped onto the seat, her legs suddenly numb.

  Had any of it been real?

  Viola’s heart attacks had been real. Her surgery and hospital stay were proof enough of that. Ellie had to give the older woman credit for her perfect timing.