by Jeanne Allan
“Well?”
She tightened her fist around the lump of clay so tightly the clay oozed between her fingers. “I did not give you the right to interrogate me.”
“You don’t think our scheduled wedding tomorrow gives me the right to ask a few questions about why you invited Christain up to your bedroom?”
“We weren’t in my bedroom.”
“I suppose you weren’t making love on the sofa, either.”
“No, we weren’t.” Addy paused to study the clay log she’d rolled. “Not yet.”
“Not yet,” he repeated softly. “You intended to make love to another man the day before our wedding?”
“It’s not the day before my wedding. I told you I wasn’t going to marry you. You chose to ignore that.” She mashed up the amateurishly misshapen log and tried again. “I’ve been free and single for a long time. I don’t want to tie myself down to one man. I prefer my social life to be like this room, cluttered and chaotic. Even if I thought I could stand being monogamous, it wouldn’t work with you. Not with all that traveling you do. I’d be too lonely. And tempted.”
Addy’s hands shook and nerves roiled her stomach. She prayed her next words convinced Sam. “I admit, marriage to you would solve a number of my problems, and I considered it, but although you might not think so, I do occasionally have a conscience. You were kind enough to offer to marry me. The least I can do is refuse. You aren’t the kind of man who’d like sharing his wife.” Her heart pounded so fiercely. blood hammered against her eardrums.
An eternity passed before Sam spoke. “I’ll explain to Grandmother and the others for you.”
“Thank you. Hannah said you were leaving Sunday morning. I’ll have the necklace finished before you leave.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I don’t take charity,” Addy snapped, looking squarely at Sam for the first time since he’d walked through her doorway Her stomach recoiled at the fury. blazing from his blue eyes. The jaw she’d labeled pugnacious had solidified into rock-hard granite. She fought a craven urge to flee as Sam stalked across the room. He didn’t stop until the only thing between them was the table which seemed suddenly flimsy.
“You’ll take this.” Sam tossed a package gift-wrapped in white onto the hard plastic sheet she worked on. “You don’t have to call it a wedding present.” He practically sneered the words. “Like you, I pay my debts.” Turning on his heel, he strode from the room.
Addy picked up the package with trembling fingers. She didn’t want to open it. The ribbon fell to the table. She didn’t want a present from Sam Dawson. The paper crinkled loudly as she cast it aside. Addy eyed the white jeweler’s box with trepidation, until she gathered the courage to remove the lid and lift aside the blanket of white cotton. Her throat swelled with painful tears as she looked at the contents of the box. She squeezed the cardboard box so tightly it split with a loud snap. Resting on a bed of cotton was a coil of silver chain encircling a small silver charm. A replica of an old-fashioned clothespin.
CHAPTER NINE
ADDY brushed a nonexistent piece of lint from her lap as she steered her car north on Interstate 25 toward Denver early Saturday morning. Brushed it away as easily as she’d brushed Sam Dawson from her life. Sam had obviously talked to his grandmother as promised. When Addy told Hannah last night she and Emilie would be moving out the first of the week, Hannah had made no comments, asked no questions. Not wanting to see the hurt and disgust on the older woman’s face, Addy had concentrated on peeling carrots for the casserole she’d cooked Sam and his grandmother for dinner: Emilie had spent the night at her friend’s house, and Addy had dined in solitary splendor on a cheeseburger at a fast-food restaurant.
This morning a quick phone call to the mother of Emilie’s friend had arranged for Emilie to stay there until Addy came for her. The woman had readily agreed, thinking Addy had last-minute wedding details to attend to. Addy hadn’t bothered to set her straight. By noon everyone up and down Ute Pass would know the wedding had been called off. She shouldn’t feel guilty leaving the task to four elderly ladies. They’d arranged the wedding without the bride’s help. They could un-arrange it the same way.
A loud bang jolted Addy from her thoughts. The car swerved wildly, and Addy jerked her foot from the gas pedal, fighting to bring the car under control, at the same time guiding it to the side of the busy highway. Thankfully she’d been in the right-hand lane. The car coasted slower and slower until Addy could safely, gently apply the brakes. The vehicle bumped and bucked to a halt.
Addy collapsed against the back of the seat, waiting for her racing heart to settle down before she stepped from the car. She was in no hurry to view the damage. In the rearview mirror she saw a few shreds of what had been her tire blow off the highway in the wake of a speeding semi-truck.
Putting off the inevitable didn’t make it go away. Addy slid over to get out of the car through the passenger side door. The car rested drunkenly slanted to one side, the right front wheel resting on its rim.
She hadn’t dressed this morning to change a tire, but life wasn’t giving her a lot of options. Tossing into the car the pale gray jacket of the suit she’d purchased yesterday from a thrift shop, Addy opened the car trunk and extracted the jack and tire iron. She hoisted her skirt above her knees and squatted in the dirt beside the car. A short time later fat bolts dotted the ground, and the shredded tire rested against the opened car trunk. She reached for the spare. It was flat as a pancake.
Addy wanted to scream. On her way to the most important meeting of her life, she was stranded halfway between Colorado Springs and Castle Rock, miles from the nearest gas station. She had filthy hands, and three large black oily streaks marred the front of her skirt. She’d broken two fingernails and ripped her blouse when she’d lost her balance and tumbled backward into the dirt. She didn’t want to know what the back of her skirt looked like.
“Darn.” Addy kicked the nearest tire, understanding completely how people got so angry with their cars they shot them. Her foot smarted, and she looked down to see half the polish scuffed off the toe of her shoe. “Darn and double darn.” She kicked the car again. Pain shot up her leg, and she leaned on the side of the car, beating against the roof with her fists. At first the sound of spitting gravel signaling a car pulling off the highway onto the road shoulder behind her didn’t register. The half-amused, half-exasperated voice got her immediate attention.
“Got a problem, Adeline?”
She wouldn’t look up. She would not look up. She looked up. Sam leaned out his opened window. Addy slowly straightened. She wanted to deny she had a problem. She wanted to tell him to go away. Too much was at stake to do so. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to Denver.” Checking for a break in traffic, he stepped from the car. “Blowout?”
“No, I’m having a little picnic breakfast beside the road.”
“Good thing I found out before I married you how surly you are in the morning.” His eyebrows lifted as he took in her appearance. “You going to a costume party?”
Addy swallowed an angry sob. “I’m meeting someone, a man.” She emphasized the last word. “For breakfast.”
“Odd choice of clothes for a rendezvous.”
His eyes seemed to pierce the white blouse she wore. Addy forced herself to keep her hands from flying up to hide the silver charm hanging on its chain beneath the blouse. Sam couldn’t possibly see it. “Just because you prefer white lab coats.”
Sam laughed. “I’ve yet to meet the man who has fantasies about kissing a woman who’s dressed like a stereotype of a suburban housewife on her way to a parent-teacher’s meeting.”
Addy stiffened. His gibing remark came perilously close to the truth. “I didn’t realize men discussed their fantasies with each other.”
“There’s a lot you don’t realize, but we’ll discuss that later. Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”
“Only to the nearest filling station.”
<
br /> “Let me open the trunk.” A minute later he said, “Damn it, Adeline, I intended to get that.” He took the spare tire from her and slung it into Hannah’s car trunk. “Need anything from your car?”
“No. I’ll be back as soon as the filling station fixes the flat tire.”
“I don’t think so.” Sam stood at the front of her car looking down at the wheel. “The rim’s bent. They’ll have to send a tow truck. You can’t drive this car anywhere.”
“I have to,” Addy wailed. “I can’t miss my appointment.”
“I could drive you,” Sam offered.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
Why she ever dreamed she might, she couldn’t imagine. She hadn’t had anything to say about anything from the moment Sam Dawson walked into his grandmother’s house. He was an overbearing, interfering bully. Even his grandmother called him bossy. “I never knew a man so intent on having his own way as you are.”
“You’re grumpy when you skip breakfast, aren’t you?”
“I’m not grumpy. My car let me down, and repairs will probably cost me a small fortune.” How was she going to pay them? With jewelry? Without her car, how could she get away with Emilie? Addy crossed her fingers in her lap, praying for the success of her upcoming meeting. If the man had waited, if she could successfully convince him to direct his search back East, she’d have more time. Surreptitiously she checked her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. “I’m late,” she said, again for the tenth time in as many minutes.
The clothes covering her body didn’t bear thanking about. Between the grease and grime, not to mention rips, she’d been forced to change out of her suit. Her selections had been extremely limited. Limited to two items, in fact. A garish yellow that defied description colored the sweatshirt Belle had left on the backseat of Hannah’s car which Sam drove. Addy had purchased the lime green sweatpants at the thrift shop to cut into a play outfit for Emilie. She’d forgotten to take them out of her car yesterday. Her old electric teal blue caftan faded in comparison to this outfit.
Sam pulled up in front of the huge hotel doors. “You’re meeting him here?”
“It’s a hotel. Where else would I meet a man?”
“I meant, why so far west? Why not downtown or near the Tech Center on the south side of Denver?”
“He’s coming from Vail.” He was coming from the airport. She’d told him she was driving in from Vail. Addy jumped from the car. “Thanks. You needn’t waist. He’ll take me back.” There must be buses. She slammed the door and ran into the hotel before Sam could respond.
Addy stopped first in the hotel ladies’ room. Minutes later, she resigned herself to the fact that little more could be done to improve her appearance. Strands of hair straggled from the tight bun, and washing the dirt from her face had removed most of her makeup. She’d driven down Ute Pass three hours earlier the picture, or so she’d hoped, of a young society matron. The proper mother of a young girl. Now she looked like a rodeo clown in training who’d already tangled with the bull. And lost.
Looking at her watch again, her heart sank at the advanced hour. Please, let him have waited. She had to put him off, gain more time, misdirect him.
Giving her bedraggled image one last despairing scowl, Addy took a deep breath and went to find the man who would claim to be Emilie’s father.
He sat in the hotel coffee shop, his gaze locked on the entrance. If he hadn’t been wearing the red carnation in his buttonhole, Addy would have walked right past him. This white-haired, somewhat portly, seventy-something man was Lorie’s mysterious, passionate lover? Her gaze swept the coffee shop. No other man wore a red flower.
Explaining to the hostess she was meeting someone, Addy pinned a confident smile on her face and walked over to the table. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had a tire blowout,” she said.
The man looked at her, did a double take at her clothing, then slowly pushed back his chair and stood up. Reaching for her hand, he clung to it, his eyes searching her face. After a moment, he gave a little shake to his head, and gave her a tentative smile. “Thank you for seeing me. I hoped you’d bring the child, but I suppose that was too much to ask.”
“I’m Addy Johnson. Lorie’s sister and Emilie’s aunt and guardian. I’m afraid my husband couldn’t come today. Business. Not that he’s one of those men who pays more attention to business than to his family. Emilie always comes first with him, I assure you.” She’d rehearsed her speech a thousand times.
“Emilie,” the man said. “A nice old-fashioned name. Does the little girl look like her mother? Her mother was astonishingly beautiful. But you know that, I’m sorry, I’m rattling to no purpose. It’s just, I was surprised, you know, when you called Thursday. When I received no answer to my first two letters, I was afraid... I’m sorry, as you’ve guessed, I’m William Burgess.” He dipped his head in an old-fashioned gesture. “Please. I apologize. I’m keeping you standing, and you had a blowout, and I haven’t even asked if you’re all right. Please sit down.” He hesitated. “I’d like to meet the child.”
Addy sat, clenching her hands in her lap. “I’d like some coffee and something to eat.”
“Of course. Excuse me. You must think I’m terribly rude.” He beckoned a waiter to take Addy’s order. “About Emilie—”
“Why do you want to see her now? The papers giving me custody are all in order.” She hoped they were.
William Burgess straightened up at the hostility in her voice. He seemed to be considering how to answer.
“Adeline. Honey, there you—What the hell happened to you? Where’s your car? I didn’t see it in the parking lot.”
Addy’s mouth gaped open. Lack of breakfast must be making her hallucinate. She shook her head to clear it. Sam stood beside her chair. “A blowout,” she managed to say. She should have known Sam Dawson wouldn’t do as he’d been told.
“Damn it, Adeline, I told you that damned clunker wouldn’t make it to Denver. You OK?” Bending down, he pressed a hard, possessive kiss on her mouth. “Wives,” he said with husbandly resignation, pulling out a chair and joining them at the table. “I told her to rent a car.” He looked across the table. “I’m Adeline’s husband, Sam Dawson. You must be Burgess”
Clearly taken aback at the antagonism on Sam’s face, William Burgess didn’t make the mistake of offering to shake hands. “Please. Call me Bill.” The look on Sam’s face made it clear whatever Sam would like to call Burgess, it wasn’t Bill. Hastily turning to Addy, Burgess said, “When you told me your name, Addy, I assumed you’d married a man also named Johnson, but I guess you kept your maiden name.”
“Ms. Johnson to you,” Sam snarled.
“Yes, of course.” Almost shyly, Burgess scrutinized Addy’s face. “You don’t look much like Loraine.”
“I take after my father’s side of the family.”
“Are your parents, Emilie’s grandparents, living?”
“Cut the social chitchat, Burgess, and let’s get down to business. I’ve consulted my wife’s and my attorney.” In an aside to Addy, Sam said, “I gave Jim Carlson a retainer.”
The room started spinning around Addy. She grabbed Sam’s hand to keep from falling off her chair. “A retainer,” she echoed weakly. “For what?”
Sam ignored her, his attention riveted on William Burgess. “Our attorney is prepared to file an injunction against you and get a court order to keep you from harassing Addy. She’s Emilie’s aunt and guardian, and for all intents and purposes, Emilie’s mother, and always has been, and it’s a little late for you to even think about any kind of custody. I had our lawyer check, and Loraine Johnson’s lawyer has a copy of the paper you and Loraine signed.”
“Paper?” William Burgess looked blankly at Sam. “I didn’t sign any paper.”
“Tell it to the judge,” Sam sneered. “You had the damned thing notarized.”
“There’s some mistake,” Burgess said.
“Right,” Sam said tersely. “You made it
. If you thought you could bully Adeline, forget it. Not only will you have to go through the courts to get to her, you’ll have to go through me, since I’m her husband, and through the rest of her family. We’re all prepared to testify to what a wonderful mother Addy is.”
Burgess looked as stunned as Addy felt. “I’m sure Addy—Ms. Johnson is a wonderful mother.” He wiped his face with his napkin. “I never intended...” His words trailed off as the waiter brought Addy her scrambled eggs.
Sam took one look at Addy’s pale face and ordered, “Eat. And don’t give me any lip about not being hungry. You’re shaking.” He called the waiter back. “Bring her some decaffeinated coffee. And bring me a cup of regular.” Sam gave Addy a fierce look. “I told you to eat.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or bawl. She said, “I’m right-handed.”
“Damn it, Adeline, I don’t give a damn... Oh.” Sam released the hand he held in a steel grip. “Sorry.”
While the waiter went after their coffee, Addy doggedly ate her eggs. If she didn’t, Sam Dawson would probably spoon-feed her.
Sam Dawson lied for her. The words kept repeating in her brain. Sam Dawson lied for her. Yesterday he’d seen her rolling on the sofa with John Christain, and today he was in Denver standing—sitting—at her side. Lying for her.
She choked down another bite of eggs. It was one thing for Addy Johnson to arrange to meet William Burgess with every intention of looking him right in the eye and swearing to a bunch of big fat lies. Such as she was married. Married and vacationing in Vail, Colorado, at her husband’s relatives’ house. Married and residing in Boston, Massachusetts, where her husband based his business. She hadn’t planned to use Sam’s name.
Unless she had to. The eggs seemed to multiply on her plate. The more she ate, the more yellow lumps covered the heavy white china. She hated cold toast, orange marmalade, burnt bacon and greasy hashed brown potatoes. The look on Sam’s face told her he expected her to eat every bite.
He’d lied for her.
She’d tried to convince him she and John Christain were well on their way to being lovers, and he’d lied for her. She’d been going to use him, and he’d lied for her. How he knew what she was doing, where she was going, whom she planned to meet barely concerned Addy at this point.
