"I'll give you one more month," she said, her voice ominously soft. "Do whatever you have to do to convince yourself that I'm a terrible, insensitive, unloving jerk, just because I reacted to the evidence of pain I can't begin to imagine. Hide away in the guest room all you want, sleep alone if that's easier. For another thirty days, you have my permission to feel sorry for yourself twenty-four hours a day if that makes you happy."
A muscle jumped in his cheek, and his eyes seared hers. "And after that, then what?"
Holding Francey carefully, she eased forward to the edge of her chair, then stood up and gathered her purse and diaper bag.
"After that, you have two choices. One, you can file for divorce. Or two, you can stop acting like a spoiled, self-centered, selfish brat and start acting like a man who's worthy of being loved, honored and cherished. In short, like the man I thought I'd married."
His face was white, his eyes seething. He didn't move. "I'll take it under advisement," he said, his voice winter silk.
"You do that."
Hazel steadied Francey on one shoulder, slipped the diaper bag and her purse onto the other and walked to the door with her head high and her heart pounding.
She paused with her hand on the knob and turned to face him again. "If you need to figure out how a man is supposed to act when he gets knocked down, ask Neil Kenyon. If you're very humble, he just might take pity on you and show you what real courage is all about."
She didn't slam the door, but she thought about it.
* * *
The old brick building emptied early on Fridays. The young and not-so-young professionals who usually thronged the hallways now gathered in Old Sacramento's plentiful bars and restaurants instead, sharing drinks and lies and generally having a good time.
Ardiss had left early in order to drop off some papers at the courthouse before she headed home. Jess had the office to himself, something he usually relished.
But not tonight.
Tonight the empty building only made him realize how solitary his life had become over the years. When he walked into one of the popular spots along the street outside, he was almost always there on business. And when his business was over, no one invited him for a friendly drink.
It was his own fault, no doubt about it. He'd consciously cultivated a reputation as a bad-tempered tough guy because, in the beginning, it had been easier that way. Better to be disliked than pitied, he'd told himself. It hadn't taken him long to realize that he was both.
Before he'd met Hazel, he hadn't known how lonely he'd been in his self-imposed isolation, or how much he wanted to change that.
Yeah, Dante, you changed it, all right. Not only does she think you're a freak, but now she thinks you're a coward.
Who was he kidding? That was exactly what he was.
Because he was alone, with no one to see, he let his shoulders slump and his guard relax. The ache in his shoulder never completely eased, although rubbing it sometimes helped. Closing his eyes, Jess dug his fingers into the scarred pad of sutured flesh where his arm had once been.
He'd worked hard learning to live his life as a cripple. Now he realized that he'd done too good a job.
* * *
Hazel spooned a small amount of rice cereal into Francey's eager little mouth, then waited for it to come right back out again. Coordinating her tongue and her appetite was a skill her little angel had yet to master.
It was Saturday morning and drizzling, forcing Jess to postpone his scheduled ride with Tyler. She'd expected him to head for the office as soon as he'd finished his morning coffee. Instead, he had headed for the den, muttering about calls he needed to make.
"She doesn't look too happy."
Hazel glanced up to find Jess watching her from the door, his empty coffee mug in hand. He had dressed for riding in boots, jeans and a pale blue western shirt. He'd recently shaved, and his hair was longer than it had been at their wedding, brushing his collar softly in the back and feathering over his ears.
Her heart thumped, and her skin warmed. He hadn't touched her since that terrible morning, but that didn't mean she'd been able to shut off her mind or her body.
The sex drive was part of the package a person brought into the world. Nature's way. A proven matter of chemistry. Necessary to continue life. All those things she knew and accepted, even on occasion found herself explaining to a patient or a parent.
Somehow none of that mattered when she thought about Jess. Not when her body was too warm and her skin was too tight and her mouth was going dry just thinking of his big hand skimming her breasts, her belly, lower.
"She's not very partial to cereal yet," she murmured as she cleaned the overflow from the baby's chin. Glancing at the mess on the baby's bib and on her own shirt, she managed a small smile. "In the meantime, I'm thinking of covering myself and her and the kitchen with plastic."
Jess crossed to the table and put his cup near his usual place before bringing the pot from the counter to refill her cup and his.
"This isn't bad," he said as he settled into his chair and stretched his legs. "You should have seen me when I was learning to eat left-handed. Damn near starved to death before I got so I was eating my dinner instead of wearing it."
Hazel glanced up to find a rueful grin slanting his lips. He wasn't quite as remote, but he wasn't tearing down any walls, either. "Looks like you survived."
"It was a near thing, though. I was skin and bones by the time I got the hang of it."
Hazel managed a wary smile. Since she'd told him off in his office, they had forged an uneasy truce. But Hazel had few illusions. Unless Jess learned to trust her wholeheartedly, to accept whatever feelings he raised in her without turning cold if they didn't suit him, their marriage was over.
Hazel wiped the baby's face with a soft washcloth, then scooped up the last of the cereal for one more try.
"Here we go, precious, one more yummy bite for Mommy," she cooed, smiling for all she was worth.
Clearly unimpressed, Francey turned her head to the side and let out a warning squall. Hastily Hazel put aside the spoon and set about extricating Francey from her infant seat.
"Stubborn little cuss," Jess commented dryly, watching her in that brooding way she'd come to expect.
"Not as stubborn as her daddy," Hazel muttered, settling Francey comfortably in the crook of one arm and reaching for the bottle of formula she'd prepared earlier.
"Her daddy's trying. Doesn't he get points for that?"
Hazel glanced up to find his gaze roaming her face intently, as though he'd set his mind on memorizing every line and curve.
"This isn't a race, Jess. If this marriage folds, neither one of us wins. Worst of all, Francey will end up the biggest loser."
His jaw was tight as he took a swallow of coffee, his gaze focused on the rain steaming the windows. Tense silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the steady patter of rain on the patio tiles and the baby's eager suckling.
Minutes later, apparently full now, Francey was busily trying to spit out the nipple she'd been so eager to take earlier.
"Okay, I get the message," Hazel said softly. She put the bottle on the table, then used the damp cloth to wipe the tiny milk-sated mouth before transferring the baby to her shoulder.
"Give Mommy a nice big burp now," Hazel soothed, rubbing gentle circles on the baby's back. Right on cue Francey belched, and Hazel laughed.
"What a good girl you are," she cooed, kissing the top of the silky head.
"I'll take her," Jess said gruffly. "Drink your coffee. You look like you could use it."
Hazel settled the baby in the crook of Jess's arm. As she did, her fingers brushed his thigh, and he flinched.
"Sorry about that. Believe me, it wasn't intentional." She was too tired at the moment to care about anyone or anything but the baby and her patients, in that order.
Hazel grabbed her cup with both hands and drank until the cup was half-empty. "There," she murmured with a heavy sigh. "Do I look
better now?"
Glancing up, she saw pain flash in his eyes. For her? she wondered. Or himself?
"O'Connor, I can't watch everything I say," he said with heavy impatience.
"Why not? You expect me to watch everything I say and do."
He scowled. "That's different."
"The heck it is." Hazel got to her feet, intending to take Francey upstairs. Instead she found herself clamping her hand over her mouth and running for the downstairs powder room.
Slamming the door behind her, she bent over the toilet and quickly and noisily got rid of everything in her stomach.
"O'Connor?"
She wiped her mouth with a towel, closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, willing the nausea to disappear. "I'll be out in a minute."
"What's wrong? Do you need help?"
"No. Just see to Francey, okay?"
But he didn't go. Instead, he opened the door and stuck his head in. His mouth was hard, his eyes filled with worry. For some odd reason the realization that he was worried about her only made things worse.
"Where's Francey?" she asked peevishly.
"In her seat." He came closer, filling the small room, crowding her with his raw masculinity. "Are you all right?"
"Fine. Wonderful, now that I've tossed my cookies." One side of his mouth moved, making her wonder if he were thinking about that night in the bar. "What is it, a touch of the flu?"
Hazel wanted to cry. Instead she settled for a short nervous laugh. "No, a touch of pregnancy."
His eyes went blank, and his jaw turned white. "You're expecting a baby?"
"So my doctor tells me."
She had it then, the emotion she'd wanted from him for so long. Only instead of happiness or joy in his eyes, she saw raw, unbound anguish. Jess didn't want the baby.
Hazel got to her feet slowly, brushed past the hand he held out to her and walked into the kitchen to get her daughter.
Upstairs, she changed Francey's diaper, tucked her in for a nap, and walked calmly to her own room and shut the door.
Then she cried.
* * *
When the rain tailed off around four, Jess headed for the ranch, leaving both Hazel and Francey sleeping.
He'd told himself Sting needed exercise. When he found himself walking past the pasture where the gelding was grazing, however, he realized that he'd headed for the ranch in the way that a wounded animal heads for its lair.
He found Garrett in the barn, mucking out one of the stalls. As soon as Jess crossed the threshold from light into gloom, Garret looked up from the manure he was shoveling and grinned. "Hey, look what the cat dragged in!"
Jess knew Garrett had heard his car when he'd driven in. He also knew that his big brother wouldn't ask him why he'd driven all the way from Sacramento to Placerville without notice.
"I had a day off. Thought I'd take a look around. Make sure you're doing right by the place."
Garrett snorted. "How would you know? You're a white-collar worker these days. No more bucking hay and shoveling manure for you."
"Us educated types leave that to you country boys."
"You educated types are full of this stuff I've been shoveling."
Putting aside his shovel, Garrett removed his hat and wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand before resettling the old Stetson.
Then, since he was taking a break anyway, Garrett refilled his mug from the thermos, then lifted his eyebrows. "Coffee?"
Jess shook his head. "I'm trying to cut down." Garrett slugged down half a cup with relish, then sipped the rest more slowly. "Did you hear? Madonna took first. Andi's walking on air."
"I thought teenage girls were supposed to be addicted to boys, not horse breeding."
"I expect that'll come sooner or later. Right now I'm grateful she's still horse-crazy like her mom." Pain filled his face for a brief span before he grinned. "So how's my favorite sister-in-law?"
It occurred to Jess that he'd come out here because he knew sooner or later Garrett would get around to talking about Hazel. He might even give him the advice he was too proud to beg for. Lord knew he needed it.
"She's expecting a baby."
Garrett looked stunned, then tossed aside his coffee in favor of pounding Jess on the back with gusto. "Congratulations, buddy. I'm proud of you!"
Jess had trouble keeping himself under control. The idea of Hazel carrying his baby had his gut in a knot. Not because he didn't want to be a father, but because he wasn't sure had what it took to be a husband, let alone the father of two.
"Don't be. I'll be lucky if she lets me stay around long enough to help with the delivery."
"You blew it, huh?"
"Yeah, big-time."
Garrett reached above his head to pull the chain on the bulb looped over a rafter. Behind them, one of the horses nickered nervously, leading the other three to shift in their stalls.
Neither brother broke the silence as they walked to the big barn doors and secured them from the outside. Flexing his shoulders, Garrett stared up at the gray sky, while Jess let his gaze roam over the familiar rise and fall of the surrounding mountains.
"Want to talk about it?" Garrett asked without looking at him.
"Not much to tell." Jess kept his eyes on the jagged peaks. "She claims I've been acting like a spoiled brat, so wrapped up in my own problems that I mistook natural empathy for pity."
"When you took your shirt off?" Jess had never been much good at fooling his brother. Maybe that was why they'd grown up squabbling over just about everything.
"Yeah. I guess I overreacted, lost my temper and generally made an ass of myself."
Garrett shook his head. "Pop always said you were one-part mule and the other part pride. Looks like he was right."
Jess shoved his fist into his pocket and walked to the corral fence. "Big, tough trial attorney, a rep for being mean in the clinches, and I fold up because the woman I admire most in the world couldn't handle the scars the way I thought she should."
"Let it go, Jess." Garrett's tone was suddenly dead serious. "It's ancient history."
"Not so ancient, Garrett. When I left the house, my wife was in her bedroom crying her eyes out. I wanted to hold her, to beg her to give me another chance, on my knees if I had to. But I couldn't."
"Why the hell not?"
Jess stared into his brother's frustrated, pain-filled eyes and saw himself. "Because, damn it, she's locked me out."
* * *
Chapter 17
«^»
Hazel was working upstairs, at the small desk in her bedroom, so that she could hear Francey if she fussed. It was late, past her usual bedtime, and she was tired.
Lowering her head, she massaged the dull throb at the base of her neck. Between the morning sickness and her seesawing emotions, she was worn out.
Yawning, she slipped her feet into her shoes and stood up. As she did, the phone shrilled, startling her.
"Hello?"
"Let me speak to Dante." It was a cold voice. Male without a doubt. One that seemed oddly familiar.
"Who is this?"
The caller answered with a particularly harsh sound. A growl? A laugh? Whatever it was, it made chills run over skin.
"Heard you two got married. Kept the kid, too."
Recognition came in a rush, and Hazel drew a sharp breath. "Is there something in particular you want, Mr. Yoder?"
"You bet your life there's somethin' in particular I want, lady. Dante's ass, that's what, whipped but good, until he knows better'n to interfere where he's got no damned business."
"The safety and welfare of Silvia's children are his business, Mr. Yoder. And mine."
Hazel hung up, then sat staring at the phone, seething and sick to her stomach. Jess. She had to call Jess. Only she didn't know where he was. Maybe Ty would know.
She was reaching for the phone when it rang again. She snatched it up before the second ring. "Look you—"
"Take my advice, lady. Never hang up on a man who's
trying to decide whether to kill you or just leave you scarred for life."
This time he was the one to hang up first.
* * *
It was almost ten by the time Jess turned off the freeway and headed toward Hazel's neighborhood. His shoulders ached, and his back was sore from helping Garrett with the stalls.
The hard physical exertion had banished some of the tension. It hadn't helped his mood. If anything, it had only made it worse.
The porch was dark, the facade of the big old house cold and forbidding save for a light showing upstairs in her bedroom.
Jess parked on the street instead of pulling into the driveway the way he usually did. In case she was sleeping, he told himself. But the truth was, he needed time to marshal the arguments to convince her to forgive him and start over.
He let himself in with his key, snapped on the hall light and headed slowly up the stairs. Too late he remembered the bad step, wincing at the loud screech.
He would wake Hazel for sure, but maybe it was better this way. He'd just made up his mind to plead his case now, while he still had the nerve, when he heard a shout from above, followed by a thud.
He'd just grabbed the banister and started his sprint when Cleve Yoder appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging Hazel after him by her hair. In his other hand beheld a policeman's heavy flashlight like a truncheon.
Jess stopped short, held by the fear in Hazel's eyes. Yoder's dung-colored eyes were silvered by a maniacal gleam, and he was smiling.
"Come on up here, Dante," he commanded with a sneer. "Me'n your missus here and Silvia's brat have been waiting for you to get home."
"Let her go," Jess said quietly, holding up his hand to show that he was no threat.
Hazel murmured his name, then cried out as Yoder tightened his grip.
"Are you all right?" Jess asked her urgently.
"Yes," she managed to answer quietly before Yoder's hand tightened again.
"Enough, Yoder. It's me you want to hurt, not her."
Yoder grinned, his gaze focused on Jess's eyes. "Did that bitch wife of mine ever tell you some of the methods I used to keep her in line? For instance, I got real good with this here flashlight. Might even call me an artist, like."
ONCE UPON A WEDDING Page 22
