by Lisa Jackson
“Will it?” he asked.
“Promise.”
“You know what they say about promises,” he teased, one hand touching her shoulder.
“What’s that?”
“That they’re made to be broken.”
“Not this one.”
Travis took them to dinner and a show and by the time they returned to the suite it was after midnight. Amy fell into bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Bryan, rather than sleep in the same room with her, took refuge on the couch in the living area and plugged into the headphones of his CD player. Glowering darkly at the ceiling, he didn’t bother to say good-night.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Ronni said as Travis closed the door to their bedroom and bolted the lock. A fireplace gave off the only light in the room and flickering shadows seemed to climb up the walls and reflect in the windows.
“What? Getting married?”
“So soon, I mean. Bryan wasn’t ready.”
“Do you think he ever would have been?” Travis asked, stripping off his sweater and shirt. Firelight gleamed gold against his bare skin.
“I don’t know.”
“Give him time, he’ll get used to it.”
She worried her lip as his arms surrounded her. Travis pressed a kiss to her temple. “Bryan will be fine,” he said. “He has a lot to work out, but we’ll help him along the way. Come on, wife,” he whispered suggestively against her ear. “Let me take you to bed.”
“But—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips, then lifted her from her feet. Kicking off his shoes, he carried her to the bed and together they tumbled into the downy softness of the comforter as man and wife.
* * *
“I just don’t understand it,” Ronni said the next morning as she hung up the telephone in frustration and chewed distractedly on her fingernail before catching herself. “Why isn’t Shelly home?”
“Haven’t got a clue.” Travis, barefoot in low-slung jeans and no shirt, was leaning over the sink in the bathroom as he shaved. Fascinated, Ronni watched him scrape the foam and whiskers from his chin and wondered why it seemed so sexy. As if reading her thoughts, his gaze met hers in the foggy mirror. “Are you worried about her?”
“A little,” she admitted, thinking of the baby. Please see that she and the baby are all right, she prayed. “I’ve called three times and she’s supposed to be resting so it seems a little too coincidental that every time I phoned, she was out.”
“Or in the bathtub, or picking up the mail, or running the twins somewhere or buying groceries—”
“I know, I know, but the doctor told her to take it easy.” An ugly nagging thought crept through her mind, but she steadfastly tamped it down.
“We’re going home this afternoon. You can see her and catch up then.” He shook the razor under the faucet. “Have you ever heard that you worry too much?”
“Only about a million times, but don’t you start in on me, too.”
“Are you ordering me around, woman?” The razor dropped to the counter.
“Me?” She spread a hand over her chest and angled him her most innocent look. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she teased.
Toweling his face dry, he stared at her and her pulse jumped at the raw energy in his eyes. Tossing the towel to the floor, he grinned wickedly. Slowly he advanced on her. “I hope not,” he whispered as his fingers twined in her hair.
“Why not?”
“Because I want a woman who knows her place.” He kissed the shell of her ear.
She shivered as delicious little bursts of desire spread through her. “Do you? And…and where’s that?”
His arms encircled her and his mouth was hot as it hovered over her lips. “Maybe I should show you.” He brushed his lips across hers and her bones turned to jelly.
“Maybe you should,” she murmured into his open mouth, and with the smile of a devil, he lifted her from her feet only to drop her back onto the bed again.
“You’re wicked, Mr. Keegan,” she said, suppressing a laugh.
“And so are you, love,” he said as he kissed her. “So are you.”
* * *
Amy was in seventh heaven. Her wishes had come true and she’d found herself a new daddy. Not so, Bryan. He acted as if he’d found his own personal hell. While Amy chattered and laughed during the flight back to Oregon, Bryan slipped earphones onto his head and, scowling darkly, generally avoided talking to anyone. His responses to questions were polite, short, to the point and muttered with a don’t-bother-me attitude.
“I don’t think he’s crazy about the situation,” Ronni said as they gathered their few suitcases from the baggage carousel and walked through the bustle of holiday travelers at Portland International Airport. Bryan lagged behind, listening to his music, making a point of not being a part of the family.
“He’ll get used to it,” Travis said. “He’s just got to make a statement, but he’ll come around.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll get the car.” They walked through automated doors and then he was off, dashing through the rain to the long-term lot where his Jeep was parked. Amy, tired and bored with always being shepherded, let go of Ronni’s hand and wandered down the sidewalk to stand next to her new stepbrother. Tugging on his shirt to get his attention, she said something to him that Ronni couldn’t make out and he lifted one earphone to hear her.
For a fraction of a second, he smiled as if he enjoyed her precocious question, then glanced at Ronni, caught her eye and snapped the earphone back in place. Anger twisted his mouth and he ignored Amy, whose smile melted from her tiny face. Lower lip trembling, she wound her way back through stacks of luggage to take her place by Ronni. “Why does he hate me?” she asked, clinging to Ronni’s leg.
“He doesn’t.”
“Yes—”
“No, honey.” Ronni dropped her carry-on piece of luggage to the sidewalk as a jet roared overhead. Picking up her daughter, she sighed and hugged Amy. “It’s not you he has a problem with.”
“He’s mean sometimes. Just like Kurt.”
“Because he’s hurting inside. You just keep being nice to him and it’ll all work out. Now, don’t you worry about Bryan for a while. We’ve got some puppies who are going to be mighty glad to see you.”
Amy’s face brightened and she wiggled to the ground just as Travis’s Jeep rounded the corner.
The ride back home was slow and tedious. Along with the usual crush of vacationers on the road, enthusiastic skiers were heading to the mountain as seven inches of new snow had fallen in the Cascades over the weekend. The roads were icy and treacherous, with snowplows and sanding crews unable to keep up with the dropping temperature and increased snowfall.
“Looks like a good night to build a fire and curl up on the couch with a glass of wine.”
“Mmm,” Ronni agreed, glancing at the backseat where both Bryan and Amy had fallen asleep. Bryan’s head was propped against the window and Amy had slumped against him, her forehead touching his sleeve. “I’d feel a lot better if I could talk to Shelly.”
“You could try using the cell.”
“No, I’ll wait. We’re almost home.”
“That we are, Mrs. Keegan,” he said with a smile. “That we are.”
They stopped at Ronni’s house and a groggy Amy collected the pups while Ronni gathered a few more clothes and Travis and Bryan fed the horses.
Again Ronni tried to reach her sister and this time her brother-in-law answered. “Oh, Ronni,” he said in a voice that was flat and lifeless. “How was the trip?”
“Fine, fine, I’m a married woman now,” she said brightly, though the serious tone in Victor’s voice was enough to scare her to death. “I tried to
call a couple of times but no one answered.”
“We were at the hospital,” he admitted.
Ronni’s heart plummeted. “The hospital?”
“That’s right. Look, Shelly’s not in the best of shape right now. She’s home and physically she’s gonna be fine, the doctor assured her that she could still have more kids but…”
“Oh, my God,” Ronni whispered, clutching the receiver and bracing herself against the refrigerator.
“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked a little. “She lost the baby.”
* * *
“You go home,” Shelly admonished, squeezing Ronni’s hand. She was lying in bed, her face drawn, the sparkle missing from her eyes as Vic and the boys watched television in the living room. “You’re a new bride and you need to be with your husband—keep celebrating your honeymoon.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Not silly, just practical,” Shelly said with a weak smile that didn’t add any life to eyes that were puffy and red-rimmed from tears. “I’m going to be fine. The doctor said to take it easy for a few days, but I’m not bedridden and I should bounce back in no time.”
“But…I feel so bad.” Ronni sniffed to keep from crying.
“We all do, and even though I’ve got two healthy, wonderful boys, this was…well, a loss. I just have to think of it that way and get over it.” Dragging her gaze away from Ronni’s, she cleared her throat. A tear gathered in the corner of her eye, but she quickly dashed it away with a finger. “I’m going to be fine. It’ll just take a little time to get used to…” A long, heavy sigh escaped her. “Oh, damn, maybe I’ll never get over it.”
“You will.”
“I hope. The good news is that Victor wants to try again—can you believe it, after his reaction when he learned I was pregnant?” She gave a short, brittle little laugh. “He’s come around and wants another baby.”
“Of course he does.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it, but then he was out of work and now, thanks to Travis, he feels better. They’ve talked, you know, about him staying on after the work on the house is finished, and about fixing up the old caretaker’s house for us. Travis said that Vic could either be a caretaker of the grounds like Dad was or he could work for Travis’s company in some capacity—I don’t know exactly what, the vice president in Seattle sent Vic some information…it’s there, I think, on the bureau.” She waved at a small stack of papers tucked behind her jewelry box. “I guess you married a millionaire.”
“Maybe,” Ronni said, embarrassed that she didn’t have a clue as to Travis’s holdings, that she didn’t really care. She realized he had money, of course, and plenty of it, but she hadn’t worried about how much and he hadn’t bothered with a prenuptial agreement.
“No maybes about it—your husband is loaded.” Shelly sighed dramatically. “It would be nice, but then again, money isn’t everything.” Tears filled her eyes once more as she absently touched her belly, but she pressed the silent drops back into her eyes. “Have you found that stuff yet?”
Ronni picked up the brochures and typed pages introducing Victor Pederson to TRK, Incorporated. Along with employee information, there were advertising sheets and lists of products with a letter of introduction signed by Wendall Holmes.
Ronni’s heart nearly stopped.
Wendall Holmes!
She swallowed and stared at the signature. So bold. So precise. So damned familiar. “Oh, God,” she whispered. She’d heard the name Wendall and once Travis had said something about Holmes, but she hadn’t, until this very minute, put two and two together to get four.
“What?” Shelly sat straighter in the bed.
For a second, her vision blurred and she was sure that she’d made a mistake, she couldn’t be reading the same name that had signed so many letters, but no matter how often she blinked, each time she looked at the letter, the name and the signature remained the same. Wendall Holmes.
“I’ve talked to this man before,” she said, and her voice seemed disembodied, as if it belonged to another person in another time.
“Where? How?”
“Wendall Holmes was the vice president in charge of consumer relations for SkiWest,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Oh, Ronni, no.” Shelly bit her lip.
“He was the guy I was writing to about Hank’s equipment.” The brochures balling in her fist, she sank onto the corner of Shelly’s bed. “Those bindings…they were SkiWest 450’s. Travis’s company manufactured them.”
“You don’t know that,” Shelly said, reaching forward and clasping Ronni’s arm. “Holmes could have changed companies—”
Ronni shook her head. “No, I asked about him once. Travis told me they’ve worked together for years.” Pain cracked through her heart and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.
“Let it go,” Shelly advised.
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“Hank died, Shelly! He died!” Ronni said, shooting to her feet and reaching for the doorknob, but Shelly’s silent, sad gaze held her in the room. “I can’t just forget it.”
“You have to put it aside.”
“But he’s dead.”
Shelly’s eyes lost all of their sparkle. “So is my baby, Ronni.”
* * *
Travis drove the last nail into the new railing of the back porch. Bryan, against his better judgment, was helping out, using a square and a level, making sure that his father’s work was precise. Ronni was visiting her sister and Amy was napping inside. “Better, don’t you think?” Travis asked as he stepped away from the porch and looked at the bare fir two by twos.
A table saw screamed in the garage where Vic had set up shop and was cutting lengths for the next section of the rail. The old, sagging wood had already been hauled to the pile behind the garage and it was Bryan’s job to take out all the old nails and stack the used lumber in the kindling pile. “It’s okay.”
“Just okay? Not terrific?”
Bryan stared sullenly at him. “Okay, it’s terrific. Feel better?”
Travis’s temper was already stretched thin. He hated walking on eggshells around his son and decided that it was now or never—time for another father-son showdown. “Are you going to tell me what’s eating you or do I have to guess?”
“Whad’ya mean?” Bryan grabbed his hammer and tried to wiggle nails out of a piece of old railing.
“You’ve been in a bad mood since we moved here and every time things improve and I think you’re settling in, we take a backspin.”
The boy’s jaw tightened. “So?”
This wasn’t going to be easy. Travis straightened and rubbed the kinks from the small of his back. Frowning, he eyed the sky, a storm had been predicted, a big one with the promise of high winds and more snow. Already the tops of the taller trees were moving with the breeze. “You aren’t very friendly to Ronni.”
No answer. Another nail squeaked as Bryan yanked it out of the rotting wood.
“You know she’s been nothing but nice to you. First she gets you down the mountain when you hurt yourself, then she offers to teach you to ski and now she’s given you one of her horses. She’s bent over backward to be friendly to you and all you’ve done in response is give her the cold shoulder.”
“Big deal.”
“That’s right. It is. A very big deal. I assume you’re not happy that I married her.”
“What does it matter what I think?”
“A lot, Bryan.”
“You didn’t even ask me,” his son mumbled, reaching for another rail. “You marry her and don’t even ask me.”
“I didn’t know I had to.”
“Don’t I count?” Bryan wanted to know.
“Of course.”
“And my opinion, too, right? That’s what Ronni said.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then what was all this talk about you and me being a family, huh? Just the two of us.” In anger, Bryan threw the rail into the woods. “Was that all a bunch of baloney?”
“No, but—”
“What did we need her and her stupid little girl for? All they’re gonna do is mess things up…” His voice trailed off and he looked away sharply. Travis heard a gasp and turned to find Amy standing in the partially open doorway. The puppy was in her arms and her face was twisted in silent agony.
“Amy,” Travis said, but she ran away, the puppy yipping wildly. Travis turned on his son. “What were you thinking?” he demanded.
“You wanted to know,” his son said. “I just told you what I thought.”
“You hurt her feelings!”
“Yeah, well, you hurt mine.” Bryan tossed another rail into the rapidly growing pile, and Travis, muttering under his breath, hurried into the house.
“Amy! Amy!” he called, walking through the lower level and up the stairs. If it weren’t for the barking on the upper floor and the sound of dog toenails digging into wood, he might not have found her huddled in some old blankets on the floor of a closet in the attic.
“He hates me!” she said when Travis located her and the two dogs.
“He’s just confused. Come here.”
“Bryan,” she said, her little jaw quivering. “He hates me.”
“He’s just not used to things the way they are right now.”
“He’s mean!”
“He’s not trying to be.” Travis gathered her into his arms and held her close. The dogs scrambled out of the closet and ran in circles through the pine-walled room. “This is hard for Bryan, too, honey. Being a new family isn’t easy.”
“I thought we were supposed to love each other.” Crystal-like tears tracked down her face. She began to sob.
“We do all love each other, but sometimes…sometimes people inadvertently hurt the ones they love. They don’t mean to, they’re just shortsighted.”
She sniffed loudly and the smallest dog bounded onto her lap to wash her face with her long tongue. Amy couldn’t resist and giggled wildly. Travis’s heart warmed at the sound and he wondered how he’d lived his life without hearing the happy ring of her childish laughter. One step at a time, he told himself, one step and one day at a time. “Come on, short stuff, let’s take the mutts outside.”
