Santa's on His Way

by Lisa Jackson

  They took the elevator to the fifth floor where a roll-in crib was waiting for Carol and a bottle of chilled champagne waited in a stand packed in ice.

  While Annie changed Carol and fed her a final bottle, Liam uncorked the champagne. Once the baby was fed, burped, and put to sleep, he poured them each a glass and touched the rim of his fluted goblet to hers.

  “Here’s to happiness,” he said with a grin.

  And love, she thought, but added, “And more children.”

  “More?” Blond eyebrows raised.

  She nodded. “Maybe sooner than you thought.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “I’m not sure, but . . . well, I could be.”

  His smile grew from one side of his face to the other. He sipped from his glass, took her into his arms, and as champagne spilled between them, carried her to the bed. “I’d say congratulations are in order, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.”

  “That they are, Mr. O.”

  He kissed her and Annie closed her eyes, refusing to listen to the doubts, to the worries, to the damned negative thoughts that had plagued her ever since she’d agreed to become Liam’s bride. Tonight, on her wedding night, she would give herself to him. Nothing else mattered.

  * * *

  “This is a big mistake.” Nola scratched both her arms with her fingernails and wished she was anywhere else but in this damned car with Jake Cranston. Some sappy country ballad was battling with static on the radio.

  “You’ve made worse.”

  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. How could she? Without his help, the police in Seattle would have held her as an accomplice or material witness or whatever the hell else they could come up with in the Belfry break-in and murder of Bill Arness. She still felt cold inside when she thought about Bill. Guilt pressed a ten-ton weight on her chest. She had nothing to do with his death, but she had known that Peter was behind it. Even though Bill had surprised him at the computer and Peter had only meant to knock him out, the old man had died.

  Peter Talbott.

  Embezzler. Killer. Jerk. And so much more.

  Tears burned behind Nola’s eyelids. Jesus, she was an idiot. But she was going to see Annie again. And the baby. Her heart lightened at the thought.

  Jake turned off the freeway and onto a two-lane road that wound through the hills surrounding Lake Oswego and West Linn. Metropolis one minute, cow country the next. He grabbed a pack of Marlboros from the dash and tossed it to her. “Light one for me, too.”

  “Thanks.” She punched in the lighter, slipped a filter-tip into her mouth, and then, once the lighter popped out, lit up. “Here,” she said in a cloud of nerve-calming smoke. She handed him the first cigarette, then shook a second from the pack.

  Jake took the smoke and punched another button on the radio. Country music faded and an old Bob Seger tune met her ears.

  Against the wind, I was runnin’ against the wind . . .

  Boy, and how, she thought, drawing hard on her cigarette and cracking the window. “He’s gonna kill me.”

  “Who? Liam?” Jake snorted. “I doubt it. Not that he wouldn’t have just cause.”

  “I know, I know. I was wrong, okay?”

  “And lucky. Damned lucky that he’s not got you up on charges.”

  “How could he? I’m his sister-in-law,” she said, still hardly believing the news that Jake had given her only yesterday. According to Jake, Annie and Liam had gotten married over a week ago. “What a joke.”

  “It’s no joke, believe me.” Jake drove past a development, then turned onto a gravel road leading through a thicket of evergreens and scrub oak.

  Nola’s stomach clenched. What could she say to Annie? To Liam O’Shaughnessy? Oh, God. She took a long draw on her cigarette and noticed that her hands were cold as ice. This was no good—no damned good.

  They passed a huge house with a peaked roof, turret, and dark windows, a gray Victorian that some people might think was quaint. Nola thought it looked like it had come right out of Psycho. “Annie lives here?” Nola asked, but Jake didn’t stop and continued on the winding road to a much smaller house—a cottage of sorts—with a view of the lake and a barn nearby.

  “She—well, they, I guess now, live here. Annie maintains the other house.” He jabbed out his cigarette in the tray. “How close are you with your sister?”

  “Sometimes closer than others,” she said. “This hasn’t been my best year.”

  “Amen.” He cut the engine and reached across her to open her door. “Shall we?”

  “If we must.” She was already stepping out of the car and couldn’t stop the drumming of her heart at the thought of seeing her baby again. How much had she grown? Did she smile? Would she recognize the woman in whose womb she’d grown for nine months? Heart in her throat, Nola took one last drag from her Marlboro, then cast the butt onto the lawn where it sizzled against wet leaves. “Okay. It’s now or never.” She walked up the two steps to the front porch and pushed on a bell.

  In an instant Annie, flushed face, sparkling eyes, and easy smile, opened the door. In her arms was a blond baby with wide blue eyes—a baby Nola barely recognized as her own.

  “Nola.” Annie’s voice broke.

  “Oh, God, Annie, I—I—!” Tears sprang to her eyes and ran down her face. She threw her arms around her sister and smelled the scent of baby powder mingling with Annie’s perfume. Happiness and worry collided in her heart. How had she ever given the baby away? But how could she possibly consider keeping her? Besides, she’d made a promise . . . Sniffing loudly, she hugged her sister and looked up to see Liam O’Shaughnessy in the small home, his presence seeming to loom in the interior. He was staring at her with harsh blue eyes that held no mercy, not a speck of forgiveness. Her blood congealed and she stepped away from her sister. “Liam.”

  “Nola.” His voice was harsh.

  “Look, I owe you a big apology.”

  “Save it.” His jaw was set. Uncompromising.

  “No, hear me out. I wish you and Annie the best.”

  He snorted. “Can it.”

  “Jake Cranston,” the man with Nola said. He held out his hand and shook Annie’s in a firm, sure-of-himself grasp.

  “My wife, Annie,” Liam said.

  “I assumed.”

  Annie, her insides a knot, ushered Nola inside.

  Jake grabbed a kitchen chair, twirled it around, and straddled it. “I think you should listen to what your sister-in-law has to say, O’Shaughnessy.”

  “Fair enough.” Liam skewered Nola with his gaze. “Shoot.”

  “I know you hate me,” Nola said and Liam didn’t say a word, not a syllable of denial even when Annie shot him a pleading look, silently begging him to be forgiving. Nola had, after all, given them Carol. Nola cleared her throat and, cheeks burning, added, “But I did what I thought I had to because . . . well, because I loved Peter.”

  “Great guy,” Liam muttered.

  “I thought he was and”—she held up a hand when she saw the protest forming on Liam’s lips—“I was wrong. I know that now. I’m sorry for all the trouble and pain I caused you. I am. But I can’t undo what’s already been done.”

  “She explained everything to the authorities,” Jake said. “I’ve got copies of her statement to the police in my briefcase.”

  Nola blinked back tears. “I just hope in time, you’ll forgive me.”

  “Of course he will,” Annie answered, but Liam didn’t respond. She didn’t blame him. Nola had put him through a living hell, but it was painful to witness the hardening of his jaw again, the harsh intensity of his gaze. Ever since the wedding he’d been more relaxed and their lives here, with Carol, had been stress-free.

  Until now.

  Annie put a hand on Nola’s shoulder and her sister turned. She spied the baby again and tears trickled from her eyes. “Can I hold her?”

  “If you tell me what leaving her here was all about.” Annie couldn’t put off the inevitable talk another second. The
baby was what her life was all about, the reason she got up in the morning, the impetus for Liam to have met her and married her. Even though there was probably another child growing within her, Carol would always be special. Carol yawned as Annie handed her to her natural mother and Nola bit her lower lip.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes.” Annie’s voice was low and hoarse with emotion. “But how did you leave her on the stoop?”

  “That was Peter’s idea,” Nola admitted, avoiding her sister’s gaze. “I knew I couldn’t take care of a baby, couldn’t raise her and give her the security and stability she needed. So Peter brought her here.”

  “And left her in the freezing temperatures on the porch,” Liam said.

  “Annie was home—”

  “What if she hadn’t heard the baby cry?”

  “Peter heard the dog. He was careful to stay near the bushes and brush his tracks away with a branch from a fir tree. But he waited in the shadows until Annie answered the door.”

  “You didn’t come with him?” Liam asked.

  Nola shook her head and swallowed hard. “I—I couldn’t. It was too hard.”

  “Did you ever think of calling me?” Liam asked.

  “You?” Nola shook her head. “Why?”

  “You know a father has some rights.”

  Nola’s eyebrows slammed together. “That’s why I went along with Peter’s plan.”

  “What?”

  “Since he didn’t think it was time for us to settle down with a baby, I told him about Annie and we decided—”

  “Wait a minute.” Annie’s head was spinning. She was missing something. Something important. “Why would Peter have any say about it?”

  “Because he’s, what did you name her—Carol? I like that. Well, because he’s Carol’s father.”

  “Father?” Liam asked, his voice low, like rolling thunder far in the distance.

  “Yeah. He and I . . . ” She let the words fade away. “Wait a minute. You didn’t think that . . . oh, my God, Liam, did you really think the baby was yours?” She laughed for a second before she turned and looked at the horror shining in Annie’s eyes. “The baby’s Peter’s.”

  “No!” Annie cried.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re certain?” Liam demanded.

  “Of course. I would know—”

  “But you would lie.”

  “Not about this and I know, Liam. You and I were over before I conceived this baby.” She said it with such conviction Annie didn’t doubt her for a minute.

  “Oh, dear God . . . ” Annie’s stomach turned sour. Bile rose up her throat. How could they have made such a horrendous mistake? Why hadn’t they waited for the paternity tests? She’d been so certain—so sure Carol was Liam’s flesh and blood.

  “Talbott’s?” Liam’s eyes flashed like blue lightning.

  “Yes. But he didn’t want her and—oh, sweet Jesus, you really thought you were her father, didn’t you?”

  “I am,” Liam said, his jaw tight, the cords of his neck strident. “Make no mistake, Nola, I’m Carol’s father. Now and forever.”

  “But—”

  “That’s the way it is.” He looked past his sister-in-law and his eyes sought Annie’s. “And you, Annie Prescott McFarlane O’Shaughnessy, are Carol’s mother.”

  “As long as Peter or I don’t interfere,” Nola said, lifting her chin. “Now that Peter’s gone and I have no one, I could . . . I mean, biologically and legally, Carol’s my daughter.”

  Annie let out a little squeak of protest, but then bit her tongue. What did she expect? That her sister would hand over the precious baby, that Nola wouldn’t have second thoughts, that Peter Talbott, whoever he was, wouldn’t exert his rights as the baby’s father?

  “I’ll fight you,” Liam said, his voice deadly as he advanced upon Nola. “If you try and take Carol away from Annie, I swear, I’ll hunt you down and make your life a living hell. And I’ll tell the court what a swell mother and role model you’d make. Don’t forget I know you, Nola. Inside and out. Your fears and weaknesses and the fact that you abandoned your daughter, left her in freezing temperatures in a basket on a porch because it wasn’t convenient for you to keep her. Then there’s the lying to the court. I’ve been told I could press charges.” He crossed the room in three swift strides to glare down at Nola who, despite her bravest efforts, cowered under the power of his gaze. “You’ve had quite a list of lovers, you’ve been involved in an embezzling scheme, you’ve never held a job for more than two years, and you disappear for months at a time. I don’t know about you, but I think the court might find you unfit.”

  Nola swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t dare—”

  “Think about it,” he warned.

  “No, no, no!” Annie was fighting tears and shaking her head. “I—we can’t do this. Carol is . . . ” Sweet, sweet baby, how can I give you up? “ . . . She belongs to Nola. And Peter.” The floorboards seemed to shift beneath Annie’s feet and somewhere deep inside there was a rending.

  “Oh, God, not Pete.” Nola waved her hands frantically on either side of her head. “He’s useless. A criminal. A killer, for Christ’s sake.”

  Annie’s head was swimming; she held onto the back of the couch for support. Her blood pounded in her ears. She was losing the baby . . . no, no, no.

  “And you were not only his lover, but his accomplice.” Liam turned to Annie and his expression was unrelenting. “We are Carol’s parents,” he said.

  “No.” Her voice cracked and the absurdity of the situation struck her. He’d only married her so that she would be Carol’s mother. Her marriage was nothing more than a sham. Hollow. Empty. A fool’s paradise. “We aren’t Carol’s parents legally, not yet and apparently not ever.” She fought tears, blinking rapidly as she removed the wedding band that she’d worn for so few days. “Liam, I’m sorry.” An ache burned through her.

  “So am I, Annie,” he said without a trace of warmth. “So am I.”

  The first pang struck her dead center and she thought it was just stress. The second was more painful and she gasped.

  “Annie?” Liam’s voice was edged in concern. The world started to go black. “Annie?” Again the pain and this time she felt the first ooze of blood, the fledgling life starting to slide from her. “Annie, are you okay?” Liam was standing over her and as she let go of the couch and started to sway, he caught her.

  “She’s bleeding,” Nola said from someplace far away.

  “Annie?” Liam’s voice was strident, filled with terror, but she couldn’t see him. “Call an ambulance—” Her eyes fluttered closed and a beckoning blackness enveloped her. The last thing she heard was Liam calling her name and there was something wrong with his voice—it sounded muffled and cracked. “Annie, hang in there. Oh, sweet Jesus, Annie!”

  * * *

  “Mr. O’Shaughnessy, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee? There’s nothing you can do for her.”

  In the blackness, Annie heard the woman’s voice as if from a distance. She tried to open her eyes, failed, and licked her lips—so dry.

  “I’m staying.” Liam’s voice was firm. “She’s my wife.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I said, I’m not leaving her side, woman, so you can quit harping at me.”

  “Fine, have it your way. Sheesh. Newlyweds.” Footsteps retreated and Liam let out his breath. “Come on, Annie, you can do it,” he said as if she were running a marathon instead of just sleeping. “Come on, girl, don’t you know that I love you?”

  Love? Liam loved her?

  “Don’t let me down now. Show me some of that fighting spirit. I need you. Carol needs you.”

  Carol? Oh, yes, the baby.

  Annie struggled, her eyes moving behind closed lids. “She’s waking up.” Liam sounded surprised. “Annie, oh, thank God.”

  With an effort she forced her eyes to open, then winced at the light. “Where—?”

  “You’
re in the hospital,” Liam said as she focused on him and saw tears shining in his eyes. “And you’re fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Everything’s going to be all right, darling,” he said, taking her hands and holding them in his as he sat near the hospital bed. “Nola’s signed the papers, Peter’s agreed that you and I are to be Carol’s parents. Nothing’s going to stop us now.”

  She smiled as a nurse entered the room. “Well, look who finally decided to wake up. How’re you feeling, honey?” She rounded the bed, blood-pressure cuff ready.

  Annie managed to hold up a hand and move it side to side.

  “So-so? Don’t worry about that—you’ll be dancing a jig in no time.” The nurse, a round little woman of about forty, slipped the cuff up Annie’s arm. She took Annie’s blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, admonished her to drink as much water as possible, and promised that food would arrive shortly.

  “See, the red carpet treatment,” Liam said, smiling down at her. “You had me worried for a while there, you know.”

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted,” he said, stroking the side of her cheek.

  “Is that all?”

  “No.” Sighing, he held her gaze with his. “You were pregnant, Annie. And you lost the baby.”

  “No!” she cried and tears filled her eyes. Another child lost. Liam’s baby.

  “The doctor says we can try again. But that’s up to you.” Liam cupped her face in his big hands. “We still have Carol, Annie. And each other. That’s more than most people have.” He swallowed hard and pressed a kiss to her lips. She felt him tremble. “I love you, Annie O’Shaughnessy,” he vowed, “and you just gave me the scare of my life. Don’t ever do it again.”