Expecting...in Texas

by Ferrarella, Marie

  “It’s my baby.”

  Savannah whirled around on her heel, her patience shredding.

  “Yes,” she shouted, tired of the pretense. “It’s your baby. Satisfied?” Before he could answer, she continued. “But you don’t have to do anything to atone for it. Can’t you understand? I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want your money, your name, your dreams, nothing!” How could she make it any clearer to him than that? “This is my baby and I will raise him or her. I will be the one to take care of him or her, not you.” She waved an impatient hand in dismissal. “You’re free to go on with your life. I’m giving you your freedom.”

  “And if I don’t want it?” he challenged, his voice rising dangerously.

  Who did he think he was fooling? She fisted her hands on her hips. “Every fiber of your being wants it, Cruz. Maybe you do know me, but I know you better. You’re the wind, Cruz. Your destiny is to rustle leaves, to go from place to place, leaving your mark, but always moving on. I didn’t plan on this, but it happened, and I will deal with it. I don’t want to deal with an angry husband, as well. And that’s what you’ll be. Angry and resentful. I can’t face the rest of my life knowing that I’ll see that in your eyes.”

  Doggedly determined to do the right thing, he told her, “You won’t.”

  But she shook her head. Not even the smallest part of her believed the promise. No one could be that blindly optimistic.

  “You’re not that good an actor. You might even mean it now, but you won’t later and later is all there is. An eternity of laters.” She crossed back to where the horses were tethered. “So spare me any noble gestures. You don’t have to soothe your conscience.” Picking up the reins, she faced him. “I’m an independent woman, Cruz. I run up a bill, I pay it. I don’t borrow money, or give it to someone else to take care of.”

  God, but this hurt, she thought. Because she knew, given a chance, that she could be happy with him. Make a life with him.

  Savannah looked out on the range. The sky was growing darker. How fitting.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is getting too cold to go on riding. I’m going back.”

  Before he could stop her, she’d swung into the saddle. A second later, the horse was galloping back toward the ranch. And away from him.

  Swallowing a ripe curse, Cruz swung into his own hand-tooled saddle and rode after her. He didn’t bother calling out because he knew she wouldn’t stop.

  It was several minutes before he caught up to her. When he was close enough, he whistled, and the horse came to an abrupt stop.

  Annoyed, she swung around in her saddle to look at him as he approached. “Very funny.”

  “Handy,” was all he said before his eyes clouded again, growing more ominous than the sky above. “Damn it, woman, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Being my own person,” she snapped. Savannah pulled the reins out of his hands and kicked her heels into the horse’s flanks again.

  This time, Cruz let her go.

  Eight

  “You and I need to talk.”

  Savannah hadn’t expected Cruz to be in her doorway when she’d said, “Come in,” in response to the knock. She had been avoiding Cruz for days now, ever since the ride in the meadow.

  The book she’d been reading fell from her fingers, slipping to the floor. Ignoring it, she rose to her feet. Sitting made her feel too vulnerable.

  Everything about him made her feel vulnerable.

  “I really don’t think we have anything to talk about,” she said stiffly.

  “Oh, really?” His eyes were unfathomable as he walked into the room. “And the baby doesn’t count?”

  She watched him close the door behind him, and gathered her courage. “The baby counts. The baby means everything to me.”

  Purposefully, she crossed to the door and began to open it again. She didn’t want to be alone in the room with him. Her resolve was only so strong; her resistance to him was already weakening.

  Cruz caught her wrist in his hand, keeping her from opening the door. “And what about me?”

  Her eyes challenged him. “What about you?”

  “You don’t think the baby means anything to me?”

  With a yank, she pulled her wrist free. “The baby will mean a whole lot more to you if you don’t have to break your back providing for it.”

  So what she was saying to him was that she thought he couldn’t provide for the baby in the same fashion that someone else could. That he’d have to break his back to do it, to keep the baby in clothes and its belly filled. And she obviously wanted better than that.

  She was like the others who populated her world after all.

  He stared at her for what felt like a long time, trying to control his feelings, and the flash of temper that had suddenly risen.

  Because he didn’t trust himself right now, Cruz withdrew without a word.

  Savannah was shaken. She stared after him. He’d left, just as she’d wanted him to.

  So why wasn’t she pleased?

  A deep-rooted sadness that she had no idea how to contain filled her. Moving very slowly, like someone walking at the bottom of a pool, she crossed over to the switch and turned off the lights.

  Savannah laid down on her bed in the dark, drawing herself together as tightly as she could. And then she began to cry.

  It was late. The sun had already risen and set up house within her room, probing at all the corners until it filled everything.

  Resisting the sadness she knew was waiting for her, Savannah woke up reluctantly. There was a knot in her belly, far larger than the baby she was carrying.

  Her face felt tight and drawn. Sleep had not come for a long time last night. When it had, it was ushered in with tears that refused to subside. Exhaustion had finally overtaken her.

  She felt more dead than alive.

  Her stomach made its presence known a few seconds after she’d opened her eyes.

  “Oh, God, baby,” she pleaded in a whisper, “give me a break.”

  But apparently, she wasn’t going to receive a break on any front any time soon. Her hands over her mouth, Savannah bolted and ran for the bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, Savannah left her room, not necessarily prepared to meet the world, but resigned to it. She got as far as closing her door behind her before running into Maggie. Literally. Not paying attention, preoccupied with her own thoughts, she collided with Cruz’s sister.

  “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to—” Maggie abruptly halted her apology. “Are you all right?”

  Savannah didn’t want to be rude, but she was in no mood to talk. “Yes.”

  The youngest of five, Maggie had never been shy or retiring. And she knew a lie when she heard one.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Taking her hand, Maggie pushed the door to Savannah’s room open again and drew a surprised Savannah back inside. Temporarily at loose ends since her move back into her parents’ house, Maggie had volunteered to help Rosita with the housekeeping chores in the main house. She’d been on her way to the master bedroom when she’d stumbled into Savannah.

  Maggie indicated the bed to Savannah as she made her way into the bathroom. “Why don’t you lie down for a minute and I’ll get you a cold compress?” It was an instruction, not a question.

  Savannah glanced at her watch. It was already late and she had work to do. “No, I—”

  “Your eyes are all swollen and red.” Maggie’s voice rose above the running water in the sink. “You really don’t want to have anyone see you looking like that, do you?”

  Wringing out the washcloth, she walked back into the bedroom. She looked expectantly at Savannah, who gave in and sat down on the bed. With a gentle hand, Maggie pushed her back until she was laying down, then placed the cloth across her forehead.

  “They’ll ply you with a lot of useless questions you don’t want to deal with right now.”

  Savannah watched her from beneath the c
loth. “But you’re not going to?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I don’t have to ask questions. I have a strong suspicion.”

  “Like your mother? Visions?”

  Maggie laughed as she looked around the room. The decor was cheery and made her think of Savannah. But there were no framed photographs hanging on the wall, no candid shots propped up against the lamps or carelessly left on the bureau or tables. Weren’t there people in her life she wanted to remember?

  “Only the kind of ‘visions’ I see with my own eyes, right in front of me. But this isn’t very extraordinary. A blind man could see it.”

  By ‘this’ Savannah had an uneasy feeling Maggie meant her reaction to Cruz and his last visit. Still, she feigned ignorance. Maybe she was wrong. “See what?”

  “That there’s something going on between you and my brother.” Moving her head, Savannah raised a corner of the washcloth to see if Maggie was about to censure her. Maggie’s expression told her otherwise. “I’m all for it, personally. It’s about time Cruz had someone in his life.”

  Now that was funny, Savannah thought. “From what I hear, Cruz has a great many ‘someones’ in his life.” Too many, she added silently.

  But there was a difference, Maggie thought. Hadn’t Cruz made Savannah realize that? No, of course not. He was a man, and men had this ridiculous notion that women just understood what was left unspoken. They didn’t realize that sometimes words were needed.

  “Those are just tourists, passing through. I’m talking about someone who’s interested in settling down, settling in.” And Savannah, Maggie sensed, was a nester.

  Savannah bit her lower lip. “I’m not interested in that.”

  Maggie didn’t believe Savannah for a minute. She’d seen the way the two had looked at each other. Seen the way they’d interacted—or not interacted, as was now the case. There was too much smoke for there not to be a fire.

  Maggie raised a brow. “Oh?”

  Savannah sighed, wishing she could somehow disappear beneath the cloth the way a child thought she disappeared from view just because her eyes were shut and she couldn’t see anyone. “Your brother isn’t a wild mustang I intend to break.”

  The stereotypical description surprised Maggie. From everything she’d heard and observed, she would have expected more insight from Savannah. “Then you haven’t been paying attention to him, or his work.”

  “His work?”

  Maggie touched a little figurine of a stallion, rearing on his hind legs on the shelf next to the window. She found it interesting that Savannah had left this knickknack that was already in the room when she moved in. Interesting and telling.

  “Cruz doesn’t ‘break’ mustangs, he gentles them. Brings their best side out, their ‘gifts,’ if you will.” The way he might with the right kind of woman, Maggie thought. “The way I always saw it, he was doing the horse a favor.”

  “Nice sentiment.” But it still didn’t have anything to do with her, Savannah thought. Or with them.

  “True sentiment,” Maggie corrected.

  It looked as if she was going to have to spell this out for Savannah, Maggie decided. Obviously, the woman had been hurt. Cruz was not the most easygoing man, even if he gave that impression. Inside him there was a cauldron of swirling emotions. Sometimes, they burned.

  “Cruz has been drop-dead beautiful and pigheadedly stubborn all of his life and all at the same time. He also has a chip on his shoulder,” Maggie added matter-of-factly.

  Savannah laughed shortly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “The Twin Towers would be easier to miss. To him, the world is divided into ‘them’ and ‘us.”’ Maggie figured she wasn’t saying anything that Savannah probably didn’t already know, or at least suspect. “He wants to show ‘them’ that he’s every bit as good as they are.”

  “He is.” It had never occurred to Savannah that Cruz had any reason to feel inferior. He certainly didn’t behave as if he was.

  “Yes, he is,” Maggie agreed. “But in his heart, he’s not sure.”

  Maggie had realized that about her brother a long time ago, piecing together offhanded words and fragments of scenarios over the years. It made her heart ache that Cruz should feel this way. But she’d figured out the origins of the sentiment, at least in part.

  “He’s been used by those same ladies who flock to him.” She saw the question in Savannah’s eyes as she looked at her beneath the compress. “Used as a trophy. Their one wild affair with ‘The Cowboy,”’ Maggie elaborated. “The blame belongs to both of them—to Cruz and to the women.” Her brother certainly wasn’t lily-white in this. But he was her brother, and she loved him dearly. “But it soured him when he realized that was all he was to them—a trophy, a pelt. A thing.”

  “You mean he was idealistic once?”

  Maggie smiled. He’d probably have her head for saying this. But some things were more important than supporting his machismo. “Yes, and under all that bravado, Cruz still is. You just have to reach in far enough to get to it.”

  “Provided he wants to have it reached.”

  Maggie lifted one shoulder carelessly before letting it drop again. “Whether he thinks he does or not doesn’t matter. What does is that he’d be a better person for it. And happier.” She looked down at Savannah. “I think you can make him happy.”

  “Why would you think that? You hardly know me.”

  Maggie laughed. “Because I’ve never seen him more miserable.”

  Savannah sighed. She had a headache, but it wasn’t impairing her reasoning. This was a broader leap than she felt up to making. “You’re going to have to explain that.”

  “If you didn’t count, he’d be behaving the way he always does—cocky, self-assured. In other words, he’d be Cruz.”

  “And he’s not Cruz now?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Not the Cruz I know. He’s changed since you came to live at the ranch.”

  For a second, Savannah remained where she was, hiding behind a bit of blue, plush terry cloth. And then she made a decision. There was no doubt in her mind that Maggie knew about the pregnancy. Everyone on the ranch probably did. But parentage was another matter.

  Savannah pulled the washcloth from her forehead and sat up. “That’s because—”

  Maggie nodded, wanting to spare her. “I know all about the baby.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And that it’s Cruz’s.”

  Surprise stole her words away for a beat before allowing them to form. “He told you?”

  “He didn’t have to. I told you— I watch, I observe. The pieces aren’t all that difficult to put together. My mother suspected it first, but then my mother always suspects things, and she’s only right part of the time.” Maggie grinned. “Not that she’d admit it.” Moving a little closer to her on the bed, Maggie placed her hand over Savannah’s in silent friendship. She’d taken a liking to this woman almost from the start. In some matters, she and her brother reacted identically. “The way I see it, the question now is, how do you feel about Cruz?”

  Savannah was generally open with people, but there was always a tiny edge left for self-preservation. She teetered on it now. “I honestly don’t know. There are feelings, but—”

  Maggie cut her off. “Sorry, not my place to ask that. And I know all about those jumbled feelings,” she assured Savannah quickly. “Been there myself.” Her thoughts drifted for a moment, touching warm places from the past. “More than once.”

  Maggie was giving her privacy, and Savannah appreciated the gesture. “The thing I am clear about,” Savannah told her honestly, “is that I don’t want to rope your brother in.”

  “That’s exactly why I think you’d be perfect for him.”

  “You lost me.”

  Patiently, Maggie explained. “You don’t want anything from him. He’s not a trophy to you, or—forgive me—a one-night stand.” It was an insulting term, but one that had fit Cruz’s activities more than once. “You think of him a
s a person.”

  “He is a person. A very exciting person.” Remembering their fateful night together, Savannah’s expression softened a little. “Without a doubt, the most exciting person I’ve ever met.”

  Maggie grinned. And wouldn’t his head swell if he heard that? “I wouldn’t go that far. But if you feel that way about him…”

  The implication was clear. If she felt that way, why wouldn’t she marry him? Savannah shook her head. “I won’t trap him—and that’s exactly how he’ll feel. If he doesn’t feel that now.”

  Maggie knew she was interfering, but she’d already gone all this way—a few more inches weren’t going to matter. Besides, when you loved someone, it wasn’t interfering so much as looking out for them. Cruz had always looked after her. It was time she returned the favor.

  “I believe what Cruz feels now is that you don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

  “What? How did he get that idea? I never said—”

  “You have to remember that you’re Vanessa’s friend. That puts you in a completely different class. The same class as all those women who came to his bed so willingly just for the thrill of it.” Maggie smiled. “He doesn’t think I know about them, but I do.”

  Upset, Savannah hardly heard what Maggie was saying. It had never occurred to her that Cruz would misunderstand the reason for her refusal. “I can’t have him thinking that.”

  “No,” Maggie agreed. “You can’t.” Satisfied, she rose and took the washcloth from Savannah’s hand. “You look much better now.”

  Savannah glanced toward the mirror hanging over the bureau. Her complexion was no longer pallid. Color was returning to her face, ushered in by what Maggie had shared with her.

  “Then I’d better go.” Savannah smiled her gratitude to the other woman for taking the time to talk with her. “Thanks.”

  Maggie inclined her head, the way Savannah had often seen Cruz do. “Don’t mention it.”

  Savannah didn’t waste time on breakfast. Her stomach in a new kind of knot, she knew she couldn’t eat anyway. Instead, she went out to find Cruz. She wasn’t sure just what she would say to him, only that she had to clear the air. She had to clear away the ridiculous assumption that she had turned him down because she felt she was too good for him or the life he had to offer.