It Had to Be Love (An It Had to Be Novel)

by Tamra Baumann

  “Tough to hide such a serious illness from a spouse—unless you’re a sociopath. No one is prepared to deal with that, Tara. What did you do next?”

  “I got really scared when I started thinking about his rash behavior. I figured maybe it was best to call his mom and ask about it before I talked to Spencer. She denied any knowledge, but looking back, she must’ve told him I knew.”

  She hugged her arms around her waist and closed her eyes, clearly struggling to go on. He hated what must be coming next. “Tara, if you don’t want—”

  “No, I can do this.” She opened her eyes and threw her shoulders back. “A former boyfriend of mine, Richard, was a shrink, so I asked if I could meet with him for lunch that day. After I told him everything, Richard said I should pack my things while Spencer was at work and move out. At least until I got to the bottom of what was wrong with him. Richard worried that Spencer could be just as you said, a dangerous sociopath. Thank God I’d called my father and told him what I planned to do . . . or I’d be dead.”

  She sank beside him on the couch again. “I was packing when Spencer flew into our bedroom shouting that I was a whore. That he knew I’d had lunch with Richard earlier, and was the baby even his? He admitted to having me followed whenever I left the house. So I tried to reason with him, tell him if that were true, then he should know the baby was his. But his eyes just glazed over as he pulled out a big knife.”

  She paused and bit her bottom lip, struggling to hold it together.

  He should stop her. It wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t stand seeing her in so much pain. “I can piece the rest together on my own. Never mind—” Tara’s eyes suddenly drifted from his and her gaze became unfocused.

  It was as if Ryan wasn’t even in the room anymore when she said, “The pain was unbearable, to the point I just wished I’d die and get it over with. But I fought as hard as I could to try to save my baby.”

  When he leaned close to hold her, she snapped out of her trance and held up a hand to stop him. “No, please don’t. I will totally fall apart if you touch me.”

  “Sorry.” He reluctantly leaned back again, silently waiting while she reined her emotions back in.

  She turned her focus to her clenched hands in her lap. “Spencer told me he was going to make sure I could never have another man’s baby. I screamed, praying someone would hear me, but we only had help in the afternoons, so we were alone in the house.”

  Tears fell down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. “The last thing I remember was my father rushing into the room and pulling Spencer off of me. When I awoke in the hospital they told me I’d lost my baby. Worse, I was too damaged to ever have another. I’d always seen myself with kids, so I was devastated. And I felt so insecure after letting myself be fooled by Spencer that I went into a deep depression for the months I spent in the hospital. Once I was released, I had physical therapist and shrink visits almost every day for a year until I was finally able to function again, both physically and mentally.

  “While my parents had focused on my recovery, Spencer’s family went into overdrive, covering up the details and hiring experts to keep things out of the public record. Spencer took an insanity plea deal to avoid a jury trial.

  “At the sentencing, it came out that Spencer had been on meds since he was a child, and had been married once before. After he’d beaten her badly she left him—but with a fat check from Spencer’s parents in her pocket to keep his secret. They claimed they had his meds adjusted after that, so they didn’t think he’d be a danger to me. But Spencer is too smart—he knew what to say to convince the shrinks and his parents he’d gotten better. I’m sure he’s doing that right now too. His parents used their money and influence to spare him jail. It took almost two years to finally get him sent to the psych hospital. After that I changed my name so Spencer couldn’t keep tabs on me and then I looked for a new place to live. That’s when I found Anderson Butte. And the rest you know.” She blew out a long breath. “Okay, you can hold me now.”

  He quickly pulled her onto his lap and held on tight until she’d cried all the tears she had left. He’d known what had happened to her had been bad, but he’d never imagined she’d had to endure something that heinous. It was something out of a horror movie. Not something real people had to endure.

  He wished he knew what to say to make her feel better. But anything that came to mind seemed inadequate after what she’d been through. It amazed him how strong she was. And how brave she was to face every day uncertain if it’d be the day Spencer found her. He hoped Bailey would find the evidence he needed to be sure Spencer got locked up tight. In the meantime, he’d do everything he could to convince her to spend her nights with him so he could keep her safe.

  As he ran a hand slowly up and down her back, he whispered, “His parents should be in jail too. I’m sorry you had to relive that again by telling me. But thank you for trusting me with your secret, Tara.”

  “Actually, I feel better that you know now.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “It’s like I’ve been living in jail too, albeit a much nicer one, here. Detective Bailey wants me to consider witness protection if we can’t get Spencer moved. So if I just disappear one day at least you’ll—”

  “Let’s not go there yet, okay? We’ll hope for the best.” He couldn’t handle the thought of her disappearing from his life one day.

  “’Kay. Thanks for letting me spend the whole night and for that fantastic breakfast. How about Sherlock and I bring the wine for dinner?” She stood and tightened the belt on his oversized robe. “I don’t want to leave him alone again after being gone for a few days. He might retaliate by eating another of my Jimmy Choos.”

  How could she be worried about a shoe with all the other crap going on in her life? “Sure, he can come. But Tara, are you okay? Do you need me to—”

  “I’m fine now. I just needed a minute.” She leaned down and kissed him. “I’ve been living like this for a while now, so it’s nothing new. I just try to be aware at all times, but not let the fear overwhelm me. And don’t you dare pay for your new phone—have Fred put it on my tab, please.”

  He worked up a smile for her sake. “Nope. If I do that, everyone in town will think I’m a kept man. Just someone to cook your meals, give you massages, and fly you places whenever you have a whim.”

  “Fine.” She chuckled as she headed up the stairs to change. “Then I’ll have no choice but to pay you back in biscuits . . . or maybe something else later?” She glanced over her shoulder when she hit the top of the stairs. Then she sent him a naughty smile that hit him straight in the gut.

  “Deal.” And after, he hoped she’d spend the night again. He needed to keep her safe. And change her mind about having a real relationship. He’d never wanted to be with someone twenty-four seven like he did with Tara. They just . . . fit. It was as if he’d known her all his life rather than a few weeks. Like they were always meant to be together.

  He refused to lose Tara because of his inability to communicate his feelings, like his father. He never wanted to become cold and bitter like him. Maybe Tara would reconsider if he could find a way to say the words he’d never been able to say to anyone.

  That he loved her.

  Ryan had known Fred his whole life. He didn’t want to lie to him. It didn’t help that the general store owner had played Santa every Christmas for as long as Ryan could remember. People probably went to hell for lying to Santa.

  As he made his way down the bread aisle, Ryan scooped up a pack of corn tortillas and laid them in the cart beside the chicken breasts. As he rounded the next endcap, he spotted some short, white candles, sort of like the ones Tara had stuffed into his suit pockets at the wedding. He picked up a dozen and tossed them in the cart.

  After all the ingredients for their dinner were in the basket—including sundae toppings for that gallon of French vanilla ice cream in his freezer—
Ryan headed toward the phone kiosk. Fred, always eager to make a phone sale, appeared right away.

  “What can I do you for, Ryan?”

  He picked up a brochure from the rack and pretended to read it. “I need two new phones today, Fred.”

  When there wasn’t an immediate response, Ryan glanced up from the brochure. The older man looked perplexed as he stroked his long, white beard.

  “Why two phones?”

  Pretending to read the brochure again so he wouldn’t have to look Fred in the eyes when he lied to him, Ryan said, “One for me and one for Tara. We had a little mishap this weekend.” That wasn’t totally untrue. “Water and cell phones don’t mix.” A well-known fact.

  “Water? Heard you two went to a wedding in Denver.”

  Of course the whole town knew they’d gone to Laura’s wedding. It was the topic of conversation at poker the other night. Mike was a bigger gossip than Aunt Gloria. “Yep.” Ryan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Fun in the hot tub, if you know what I mean?”

  Fred leaned closer too. “With or without suits?”

  “None of your business.” Ryan hitched his brows.

  Fred laughed as he moved to his computer and tapped a few keys. “So both the same model as before?”

  “Yes, but Tara hasn’t had her new number long, so she asked if you had one a little easier to remember?”

  “Oh, sure.” Fred rattled off a few combinations.

  Ryan picked a number for Tara and then said, “Maybe I should get a new number too.”

  Fred’s fingers stopped typing. “Now why would you get a new number?”

  Yeah. Why would he? He hated this lying business. The story he was going to tell Fred about a new start for when he moved to Denver suddenly sounded pretty stupid. Before another idea materialized, Fred’s eyes lit up.

  “Oh, wait. I get it. All those past girlfriends still texting? You never dated in town until Tara, so she must be the one, right? You want a clean slate.”

  Tara was looking like she’d be the one. “Something like that. Thanks.”

  “Sure. Be right back with your phones.”

  As Ryan drummed his fingers on the cart’s handle while he waited, Pam spotted him and made a beeline his way. He hoped Fred wouldn’t come back and mention the new phones and numbers in front of Pam. She wouldn’t buy his story as easily as Fred had.

  Pam grinned at him. “Hey there, Ryan. Missed you in church. Did you hear what your father announced to everyone this morning?”

  “Nope.” He didn’t care to know, but Pam would surely tell him anyway.

  “He said that anyone caught trespassing while digging for the whiskey recipe is subject to losing their town benefits.” She rolled her eyes. “He said it went for kids too. Their parents would pay the price.”

  Dammit! They’d talked about that. “I’m not sure he can legally do that. I’ll look into it.”

  Pam gave his forearm a squeeze. “We all figured you’d save the day. As usual. And we’re all hoping Tara changes your mind about moving away. We’d miss the sweet eye candy too much.” She sent him a wink and walked away, her hips swaying to some beat only she could hear.

  Fred returned. “Two brand-new phones all ready to go . . . Sheriff Eye Candy.” He laughed as he held out the boxes.

  Ryan shook his head as he placed the phones in his cart. He’d bet Detective Bailey never had to endure being called Eye Candy—by Santa.

  Tara found her spare car key in the junk drawer in the kitchen, then headed out to pick up Sherlock. The rain hadn’t let up. Not that she minded a brisk walk in the rain occasionally, but the prospect of wet dog smell for hours after the walk back didn’t appeal, so she decided to drive.

  She glanced at the sweet ducks floating on the lake, seemingly unaffected by the raindrops pelting them, as she drove to the other side. She loved Anderson Butte. It was even pretty in the pouring rain. God, she hoped she wouldn’t have to leave.

  If so, she shouldn’t have adopted Sherlock. They’d told her if she had to go into hiding she wouldn’t be able to bring anything with her. She needed a plan for him in case that happened.

  Please let Spencer get moved so I wouldn’t have to give up Sherlock too.

  As she pulled into Meg’s drive, her hopes for a clean-smelling pooch instantly faded. Eric had all the dogs outside playing fetch as if it were a bright, sunny day. Tara pulled up the hood on her raincoat and stepped out of the car. “Hey, Eric.”

  “Hey.”

  Eric’s response lacked his usual enthusiasm.

  Sherlock came racing back ahead of the pack, his little mouth stuffed with a tennis ball. He spit it out at Eric’s feet and then rushed toward her. Tara’s melancholy mood instantly lifted as she leaned down to pet her adorable wet dog. “Hey, buddy. I missed you. Were you a good boy for Eric?”

  Sherlock rolled onto his back to expose his belly for a rub, seemingly unaware of the muddy puddle he’d landed in.

  Eric threw the ball again for the other dogs and then shoved his hands into the front pocket of his soaking wet hoodie. “He’s always good.”

  Tara handed Eric the money she owed him. “I really appreciate you watching him, Eric. Thank you.”

  He nodded and accepted the money, jamming it into his jeans pocket.

  “Everything okay?”

  He shrugged. “This morning the mayor said we had to stop looking for the buried map. Meg and Josh were nice enough to take me in, so I can’t get them in trouble by looking for it anymore. I wouldn’t want to mess things up for my adoption.”

  So the mayor had done what she’d overheard Ryan tell him not to do the other day. “What would you do with a bunch of barrels of whiskey, Eric?”

  He grabbed Sherlock’s leash from a nearby tree and then clipped Sherlock in. “It’s not the whiskey, it’s the money everyone says it’ll bring. I really want to go to college to be a veterinarian. I can’t ask Meg and Josh to pay for that. It’s too much.”

  That sent an arrow through her heart. Eric would be an awesome vet. Or whatever else he chose to be eight years from now.

  She slipped her arm around Eric’s bony shoulder and gave him a quick hug. “I’m not sure a kid can sell whiskey, but I could if we found it. And it just so happens I need a favor, so maybe we can make a deal?”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “You of all people know that sometimes unexpected things happen in life. I don’t have anyone to take care of Sherlock if something happens to me. So how about you help me look for the whiskey, and if we find it, you can have all the money we get from selling it. If we get caught, I’ll take the fall. But in return, you’ll promise me to always take care of Sherlock if I can’t.” She stuck her hand out. “Deal?”

  “But you could lose your shares in the town corporation if we’re caught. I can’t ask you to do that, but I’ll still take care of Sherlock no matter what.”

  Tears welled in Tara’s eyes at how sweet Eric was. He’d lost everyone he loved, but he still had more compassion than most adults she knew. “I don’t care about my shares in the town, Eric. A dentist makes plenty of money. So do we have a deal?” Even if they didn’t find the whiskey, she’d be sure Eric had the money he needed on his eighteenth birthday to go to college.

  A slow grin formed. “Yep.” He gave her hand a hard shake. “I’ve already done some research at the library. They let me check out all sorts of old stuff. Want to come inside and see?”

  “Sure.” Looking for lost whiskey could actually be fun. But would Ryan be okay with her breaking his father’s new rule?

  She hadn’t thought about that part. Maybe she’d better check with him to be sure. But maybe she’d wait until after dinner—and a few glasses of wine.

  Tara snuggled closer to Ryan on the couch after the fantastic dinner he’d helped her cook. “Hey, I found out something intere
sting about your great-grandfather today, Ryan. How he was shot three different times while running whiskey, but he died of an infected cut on his finger.”

  A bad sitcom played while they ate the best chocolate sundaes Tara had ever had. Sherlock sat at her feet, hopeful for a taste. No chance of that happening—it was too darn good to share.

  “Actually it was four times. And yeah, people said he’d only see a doctor if he had to have a bullet dug out of his stubborn hide.” Ryan scraped the bottom of his bowl clean. “How did you know that?”

  “Eric and I are going to try to find the buried whiskey recipe, despite what your father said. We did Anderson Butte research all afternoon.” She glanced his way and held her breath. She hoped the wine with dinner and then the sundae after had put him in the right mood to hear that.

  He laid his empty bowl on the coffee table. “Because you need the money so badly?”

  “Funny. Not me—Eric. He wants to pay for his own college.”

  Ryan ran a hand down his face. “I’m never going to hear the end of it from my father, if my girlfriend and nephew get caught digging for the box.”

  “Good thing I’m not your girlfriend, then. And just don’t catch us. Here.” She offered him the last of her sundae.

  “What’s this? A bribe?” He took the bowl and dug in.

  “No, it’s just me sharing my ice cream with my friend who is not my boyfriend. We’re not getting serious, remember?”

  “I don’t know, Tara. Most women would only share a sundae this good with their boyfriend.”

  “But we had a deal.” She nibbled on his neck. “Let’s compromise and call you my bene-friend instead.”

  He finished up the rest of her ice cream, then laid the empty bowl beside his. “Maybe I’m too full now to offer you any benefits.”

  “I bet I can change your mind about that.” She quickly straddled him and framed his face in her hands. “Prepare to be convinced.”

  “Wait.” Ryan patted her rear end to get her to move off his lap. “Stay right here. I need to set something up before you try to distract me from this digging plan with sex.”