But she’d already lived too much of her life as an ostrich. Letting things happen around her. Daniel had demanded marriage and all that that implied. It was time he learned that communication and sharing and trust was a two-way street.
She found him working in the basement of the house. Their house. He was tearing down a perfectly good section of wallboard, as if the devil was prodding him in the backside with a hot poker. “Daniel.”
He jerked, but didn’t stop.
She shrugged out of her coat and tucked it over the banister, then walked up behind him, touching his tight shoulder. “Daniel, stop. Please.”
“Leave me alone, Maggie.”
“Who is Angeline?”
“I warned you, Maggie. Don’t.”
“Who is she?”
He moved out from her touch. “Nobody.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Add liar to my list of accomplishments.” He yanked a section of wallboard down with his bare hand and stared at it
“Why are you taking down that wall? It was perfectly fine.”
“It wasn’t painted yet.”
“So you tear it down?”
He threw the ruined piece to the side, atop the growing pile. “I decided we could open up this corner of the basement and build you a woodworking shop.”
Maybe later she’d feel pleased at his thoughtfulness. That she’d have a place specifically designed for her equipment. That Daniel had done that for her. But she knew that the emotions fueling his bare-handed demolition job were more bound up with the Angeline he wouldn’t discuss.
“Is...is she your daughter?”
He jerked and rounded on her, his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Angeline.”
“No,” he gritted. “She was just a kid.”
“Whose very name sets you off.”
“Maggie—”
“Is she the one you see when you look at J D.?”
His jaw tightened and he turned back to the wall. “I see J.D. when I look at J.D.” He wrapped his fingers over the ragged edge of the only remaining piece of wallboard. With one yank, he pulled it right out of the screws.
Maggie jumped back, blinking against the fine powder that puffed out from the wallboard when he threw it at the pile. “You know, Daniel, if we have any chance at all of making this work between us, we have to have some openness between us.” Then flushed, all too aware that she was guilty of harboring her own unspoken insecurities. Unspoken feelings. Unspoken love. “Coleman Black,” she pressed. “He knew Angeline?”
Daniel shoveled his fingers through his hair, leaving streaks of white powder. His expression was raw, without patience. “I knew Angeline. Nobody else did. And she’s dead. So drop it.
Maggie fell back a step. Dead. Dear Lord.
Daniel had turned around again and was staring at the newly bared studs. She lifted her hand to touch his shoulders, but hesitated, curling her fingers against her palm. His entire demeanor shrieked that he didn’t want her caring. Her love.
She drew back her hand. Swallowed the questions and the grief she felt for a child she’d never known, but who had obviously touched Daniel. She turned around, spying his big hammer with the claw on one end. She picked it up and held it toward him.
“If this is going to be my workshop, we’ll have to take down these studs,” she said huskily. “And widen the doorway.”
His eyes met hers, and the hammer shook in her hand. Then his eyes slowly lowered to the tool. He closed his hand around the handle, his warm fingers brushing hers. “Right.”
They worked side by side for a long while. Until the tension finally drained from Daniel’s being and he insisted that Maggie sit down and rest while he finished cleaning up the huge mess they’d made. Then he suggested taking Maggie back to the big house. Or back to Jefferson’s. There was no point in her twiddling her thumbs while he started framing in the new room.
But she shook her head. “I’d rather stay with you,” she said huskily. “If you don’t mind.”
He shrugged and turned back to measuring and cutting and hammering. But when he finally called it quits for the day some time later, and they drove back to the big house, she couldn’t get over her suspicion that he’d been pleased.
By the next day, though, she decided that she’d probably read something into his expression that hadn’t really been there. Because he was gone from the house before she rose for the day. And when she drove over to tell him about Jaimie’s plans for that evening, he barely spared her a glance.
“Jaimie wanted to be sure you’d be back for supper,” Maggie repeated. “She wants to officially celebrate the engagement.” She watched Daniel lift a piece of wallboard into place. “Her words.”
“Fine.” He fastened the board with smooth ease. Then stepped past her for the next one, hefting it easily despite its size and weight.
She moved out of his way as he fit it into place.
“You need something else?” he finally asked when she once more found herself standing in his way.
Shaking her head, she hurried up the stairs and drove back to the big house. “And men think women are hard to figure.”
Willie Nelson whined from the jukebox in the corner. Cigarette smoke hung m the air, and three guys were in the corner by the pool table, arguing over an impossible shot. Daniel sat on one of the bar stools at the high bar and stared into the untouched shot of bourbon sitting in front of him, wondering what he was doing at Colbys when he knew that Jaimie was expecting him for her “official celebration” of the engagement.
The engagement.
He reached in the pocket of his vest and pulled out a small velvet box. His thumb popped it open and he set the box on the bar, next to his bourbon. Inside the box nestled two intricately woven platinum bands. One crowned with a glittering diamond with two smaller stones marching out on either side. The rings were deceptively fragile looking.
A lot like Maggie Mae.
His jaw tightened and he snapped shut the box, sliding it back in his pocket. He’d bought the rings that day he’d taken her to the department store for maternity clothes. He’d looked in the jewelry department of that store, but hadn’t found what he’d wanted. Two stores later, he had. They’d been burning a hole in his pocket ever since.
It wasn’t that Daniel wasn’t a believer in marriage. Far from it. If anything, he believed in it too much. His own father, though obviously involved with Gloria Day, had never taken another woman as his wife after Sarah Clay died.
And now Daniel was marrying a woman he’d vowed never to love again because she was carrying his child. He was going to be a father, not only to a baby not yet here, but to J.D. A three-year-old imp who reminded him so fiercely of another little girl. A little girl he’d been unable to protect.
He wondered what Maggie would say, do, if she knew the whole truth about that. About Angeline.
He picked up the glass of golden liquor and studied it. Watched the dim lights over the bar cast a glow over the plain glass. Only he wasn’t really seeing it. He was seeing the nervousness in Maggie’s eyes when she’d admitted that afternoon that she wasn’t sure which was the larger mistake. Marrying or not marrying.
Then the halting, skittish trust that had finally replaced the nerves.
His lips twisted and he set the glass down with a thunk. The bourbon sloshed.
He had never been good at working out his feelings. Expressing himself. He’d never had a need to until Maggie Mae had come to the Double-C. One look at her and Daniel had been a goner. He’d wanted to hold her. Cherish her and laugh with her. But she’d been married. So Daniel had only wished for her to be happy. Only she hadn’t been.
He picked up his drink once more, then set it down just as abruptly. Well, no more, he reminded himself harshly. He’d gotten over Maggie Greene a long time ago. They were getting married now because it was the smart thing to do. Because it was the best way for him to provide for her and their child. For J.D. That was
all there was to it.
The pool players still hadn’t settled their argument, and Daniel strode over to them, sliding a cue out of the rack on the wall. His eyes took in the table at a glance and he leaned over and sank the shot. “It’s not impossible,” he said at their incredulous looks. He replaced the cue, retrieved his black hat off the bar and drove his truck out of the parking lot, gravel spewing from beneath the tires.
When he pulled his truck up alongside the big house, he was almost surprised that he didn’t see Jefferson’s truck, or that half the town of Weaver wasn’t there. Usually, the Clay clan, when they felt like celebrating, didn’t go about it in a small way.
He went in through the back and left his hat on a hook by the kitchen door. The dining room was empty and he went back through the kitchen and headed downstairs.
Sure enough, he heard laughter and music and—
Ah, hell. Two dozen people at least awaited him in the remodeled rec room that had been decorated with white doves and ribbons and about a mountain of foofy wedding stuff.
He managed to tack a smile on his face even before the combined “Surprise” echoed through the room. Jaimie, grinning devilishly, caught his arm and dragged him into the fray. He scanned the crowd, picking out Maggie who was sitting alone on one of the couches that littered the room. She smiled brightly, and he wondered if everyone could see the strain in her eyes as easily as he.
Then he wondered how much that strain owed to the surprise party. And how much it owed to his own deliberate distance that he’d put between them since the day before. Ever since he’d looked into her turquoise eyes and felt his existence spinning out of his control. All because she’d looked at him with some measure of trust. Finally.
“Sit by your intended, sir,” Jaimie ordered, pushing a flute of champagne into his hands. Daniel eyed the drink, realizing from one sniff that it was sparkling cider and not champagne, then looked up to see Matthew and Jefferson leaning against the wet bar, beers in hand. Matthew shrugged as if to say, Go along with her, it’s easier that way.
Feeling a strong urge to grab Maggie and get the hell out of there, he threaded through the people, getting back slaps and hugs. Finally he made it to the short couch.
Maggie looked up at him and a knot tightened in his gut. He grinned, as much for her benefit as for all the rest, and sat down next to her. He lifted his glass and asked, for her ears only, “You okay?”
She lifted her own glass, though she made no attempt to drink. “Just dandy.”
“Kiss.”
Suddenly the lone call became a chant. Daniel looked around at the collection of friends and neighbors who were hooting and hollering for him to kiss his soon-to-be bride. Then he felt Maggie’s narrow fingers searching out his. He glanced at her, hoping he didn’t look as surprised as he felt.
She looked back at him, her eyes wide and just this side of panicked. He forgot about the catcalls, the ribald jokes. For a long moment it was just Daniel and Maggie. When he tugged on her hand and she leaned into him and he kissed her cool lips, he did it for them. Not for the people who were watching delightedly.
Her lips softened. Warmed. And then the kiss wasn’t quite so gentle- Or so innocent
“Time enough for that on the honeymoon,” Matthew said, tongue-in-cheek when he plunked a bottle of beer loudly and noticeably on the table beside Daniel’s elbow.
Maggie colored, yet her eyes didn’t falter from his. He ran his finger along her cheek, and he wished they weren’t in the middle of thirty-or-so of their nearest and dearest. Because he wanted to do a lot more than touch her face and hold her hand.
Maggie leaned toward him. “It won’t last long,” she murmured.
“What?”
“The shower.” She smiled overbrightly when Jaimie started carrying packages toward them. “I didn’t know this was what Jaimie planned when she said officially celebrate. And then when I did know, it was too late to stop.”
“Where are the kids?”
“Emily got a baby-sitter who is watching them all over at their place.”
The stack of gifts grew. Matthew took over, insisting that Jaimie sit still. He practically lifted her off her feet, putting her in a chair next to where Emily sat.
“Normally we’d chow down first,” Jaimie said. “But you weren’t here when I expected you and we’ve all been grazing already.” She pointed at the spread of food. “Now we want to see some gift wrap flying.”
Guests situated themselves around Maggie and Daniel, waiting expectantly.
Why wouldn’t they? For all appearances, Maggie and Daniel were marrying for the usual reasons. The only ones who knew about the baby were his immediate family and the staff of Dr. Foster’s office.
He glanced at Maggie. “Well, darlin’, you’d better show me how this all works. A wedding shower,” he added, when she looked at him, confused.
She tucked her hair behind one ear. “Darlin’, I’ve never had a wedding shower before.” She took a gift from the top of the heap and handed it to him. “So we’ll just have to figure out how it works as we go.”
Suddenly Daniel’s mood shifted. He fingered the elaborate silver bow on the flat box. She’d never had a wedding shower.
It all sifted into place, and he recognized what he’d known but hadn’t thought about. Joe and Maggie had eloped when she was barely out of high school. She’d probably never had the trappings that accompanied most young women’s weddings.
He smiled faintly. So here was something new for her, too.
He ripped open the package and stared, dumbfounded, at the contents.
Maggie looked over his arm and gasped. All around them, people laughed and commented and Daniel tilted his head, lifting the extravagantly skimpy black and red teddy out of the tissue paper with one finger looped through an impossibly thin strap.
Just thinking of Maggie wearing such a garment was enough to give him a coronary. He handed it to her. “I think it’ll fit you better ’n me.”
Maggie eyed the gossamer-thin teddy, feeling as if her cheeks were on fire. But these people who’d surprised them with this shower had done it out of love and respect for Daniel. Not because they wanted to embarrass her. She swallowed and reached out for the teddy, feeling sparks scorch her fingers when they brushed against Daniel’s. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we,” she said tartly.
Everybody laughed. The rest of the gifts ranged from the absolute raunchiest—a pair of plastic handcuffs and edible panties—to the most beautiful white peignoir imaginable.
Squire, who was still visiting Gloria, had sent an envelope and card addressed to Maggie. Inside was a deed for a modest chunk of land. Double-C land.
She gasped and looked up, but Matthew and Jefferson and Daniel all watched her as if they already knew what it contained. And approved. Jaimie and Emily smiled as if they understood the stunned surprise sweeping through her. Her hands trembled when she unfolded the card. Squire’s writing, slanted and spare. “For my grandchildren, J.D. and ?? And their mother. Welcome to the family, child.”
Maggie blinked at the sudden tears blinding her.
Daniel took the note and tucked it back into the envelope, sliding it and the deed into the pile of gifts. “Try backing out now,” he murmured for her ears.
She gave a watery smile at his wry words. She knew she wouldn’t back out of the wedding plans. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with Squire’s generous gift. But that didn’t mean she was entirely certain about Daniel sticking to the agreement, no matter what he promised. And she was growing more certain by the minute that if he didn’t, she’d be torn to pieces.
Then Jaimie got their attention as she hopped up and snapped off several flash pictures, making everybody complain good-naturedly about seeing spots before their eyes.
They gathered up bows and ribbons and cut the cake. They ate, and some drank. Daniel, she was surprised to notice, stuck with the sparkling cider the rest of the night after his single beer. Though there was plenty of beer
and champagne flowing, no one seemed to indulge too heavily. When the party broke up a few hours later, Maggie could honestly say that she’d enjoyed herself.
Mostly because Daniel had sat beside her nearly the entire time, his arm around her shoulder. It felt protective and secure in that spot, and even though they’d hardly said ten words to each other all day, she’d absorbed his close presence like a parched sponge.
Jaimie kicked off her shoes and stretched her feet across Matthew’s lap, wriggling her toes. “Ahh. That was fun.”
Emily, who had found her spot on Jefferson’s lap, yawned and agreed. Her hands slowly moved over her pregnant belly. “So when is the big day, anyway?”
Four sets of eyes turned to them. Maggie looked at Daniel. “Ah... soon.”
He nodded. “Soon.”
Jaimie threw a wad of ribbons at them. “A date,” she chided.
“I guess whenever we can get over to the justice of—” Maggie started.
“What?” Jaimie swung her legs off of her husband’s lap. “You’re not planning to have some dinky little ceremony in a judge’s chambers?”
“Well, I—”
“Friday after Thanksgiving Day,” Daniel said. His hand tightened on Maggie’s, warningly. “At the Community Church in Weaver.”
Satisfied, Jaimie leaned back and stretched her legs once more across Matthew. “Perfect. But it’s a holiday so you’ll want to talk to the pastor right away. Plus we’ll need to get right on the dress.”
Maggie blinked, dragging her thoughts from Daniel’s statement. “Dress?”
Emily laughed softly. “You know. The dress.”
“Come on, Mags. You want a real wedding dress this time, don’t you?”
Her heart lurched. “But we—” She looked to Daniel for help. He just smiled blandly, confusing her more than ever. He wanted a church wedding. What had happened to standing in front of a judge and saying “I do?”
Chapter Thirteen
“I didn’t know that Jaimie had planned the shower,” she repeated when Daniel closed the door to the rec room and flipped on one of the small table lamps in the sitting area.
A Wedding for Maggie Page 18
