Reckless Promise

by Jenny Andersen

  "Don't worry about it," Mac told her. "She has some problems there, but it's not your fault. She'll have to deal with them herself. You are not to feel guilty about this happiness. That's an order," he added with a smile. A little weak but real, Poppy observed with relief. And his voice held nothing but reassurance.

  "Hmmph." Chickie turned away to cut two big pieces of apple pie but not in time to hide the tears in her eyes.

  While her back was turned, Mac leaned over and kissed Poppy, a possessive brush of mouths. "Everything's going to be okay," he said. "For all of us."

  She needed to believe that. He probably needed to believe it even more. "Of course it is."

  "You bet it is," Chickie said, setting pie and coffee in front of them. "And I'm goin' to be real relieved when things are back to normal around here."

  Mac laughed. "Things aren't ever going to be the way they used to be. We have to think about how you're going to cook with a rug rat underfoot. Four on the floor used to mean cars or dogs around here. It's going to be different—you are going to stay?" He looked suddenly anxious.

  "If you'll have us. Moses 'n me talked it over, and we'd like nothin' better than to raise a kid here at the ranch." Now Chickie's brow wrinkled in an anxious frown. "We was gonna ask you about it as soon as everyone got together."

  "We'll have you." Mac stood and put an arm around Chickie's shoulders. "You know that at least half of our success is due to your cooking. No way are we letting you and Moses get away."

  Poppy wondered at his suddenly thoughtful expression.

  He picked up his coffee mug. "Come on, honey. We'd best be on hand in the lounge when Moses gets back. Can't have our guests feeling neglected." He took her hand and led her out into the hall.

  Did he even realize he treated her as though she belonged? One corner of her mind kept asking questions like 'What about your career?' 'What about the mess you left in Boston?' 'What would you do on the ranch if he asked you to stay?' She didn't care about the answers when his hand wrapped around hers, warm and comfortable and exciting, but when her mind came up for air, the thoughts crept in.

  She sank down on a couch and watched him build up the fire. "You did a lot of deep thinking back there in the kitchen."

  He brushed his hands together and sat next to her. "Just an idea. If things ever simmer down, I'll run it past Tom and Alice. If there is a Tom and Alice after tonight."

  He looked so bleak that she hugged him. "Run what past them?"

  "It occurred to me that we could give Moses and Chickie a share in the ranch. Be a good way to ensure a permanent cook and the best wrangler in the business."

  He didn't fool her. She'd seen his expression when Chickie had asked about staying on the ranch, her worry about the future as obvious as wings on a horse. "Not to mention doing a wonderful thing for Moses and Chickie at a time when they really need it. Have I told you that I think you're a nice person?"

  "Not lately. Why don't you show me?"

  She expected to see the familiar glint in his eye. Instead she caught a flash of uncertainty and vulnerability that undid her. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. "It's going to be all right," she said, and held him until the embrace turned into something more than simple comfort.

  She didn't hear the car until Mac said, "Damn. Sounds like new guests. I didn't know we were expecting anyone." He rose and poked at the fire before he went to the door.

  Somehow he had gotten most of the snaps on her shirt undone in the few minutes they'd been alone. She stood and fumbled to fasten them. Mac's voice came to her clearly, the sounds of him greeting the new guests, leading them down the hall and into the Great Room. She gave up fussing with her shirt and went to stand by the fireplace, coffee cup in hand, trying to look casual.

  "And this is the place where just about all of the indoor activities take place," Mac said, stepping aside so that the couple behind him could enter.

  Poppy looked up with a polite smile. Her stomach dissolved in panic and her ears rang.

  Mac would never believe her this time.

  Bill and Millicent. Jase's friends. Her practice client and his overly dramatic wife—the one who had followed her home and convinced her that playing the other woman was not just a bad idea but actively dangerous.

  Bill, who hadn't told her about his wife's propensity for over-the-top anger. The last time Poppy had seen Bill, she'd been pretending to flirt with him in a bar. Pretending to flirt, and being even more stupid than usual, because after he'd heard about Tom, he'd wanted to know all about the ranch, and she'd just gone ahead and told him everything, including its name and location. She'd had to talk about something, for Heaven's sake, and Bill wasn't the Goldilocks-and-the-Three-Bears type.

  And Millicent, who had followed her home to say that she wouldn't let Bill break up a happy home for some cheap redhead. At the top of her considerable voice and with all-too-believable overtones of violence.

  Poppy had been numb with shock, cowering in her own front hall, scarcely able to believe the woman’s purple, hate-swollen face and the threats and curses that had poured from her mouth.

  And Poppy had no reason to believe tonight would be any better. Millicent surely would recognize her, and say terrible things about her, and Mac would believe every damning word. If he loved her at all, this confrontation would kill his feelings.

  "Millicent, Bill," Mac said smoothly. "This is Poppy."

  Too late to run or hide. All she could do now was try to brazen it out, to hope Millicent wouldn't recognize her. Poppy tried to smile. "Hello," she said over the choking thunder of her heart.

  Of course Millicent recognized her. She stopped dead. Her nostrils flared, her bosom swelled to alarming proportions. Her face purpled to the same shade of puce that it had been when she'd slammed Poppy's front door hard enough to knock a picture off the wall.

  Poppy backed up until the rough stone of the fireplace stopped her.

  "Are you feeling all right?" Mac took Millicent's elbow. She ignored him.

  Poppy looked at him, helpless to stave off the coming disaster. Any second now, Millicent would start spewing her damning lies and worse truths. She glanced at Bill, hoping against hope for help from that quarter. Bill stood like he'd been flash-frozen, horror written plainly on his face. His mouth worked but no sound came out.

  What would Mac believe? He'd heard from Tom about Poppy's pretense, but in the heat of battle could he possibly believe in her innocence? She looked at Mac to gauge his reaction.

  Millicent followed her gaze. She stared at Mac for a moment that felt like forever to Poppy and then her mouth curved in a satisfied, vengeful smile. When she took a step forward, Poppy's fingers went limp and her mug smashed against the stones of the hearth.

  "Oh, dear. What a shame," Millicent said, her voice all false sweetness.

  "No problem," Mac said. "I'll get a broom." He shot Poppy a quizzical look as he left.

  Millicent looked Poppy up and down. "You!" she exhaled, investing the word with enough venom to kill off an entire third world country.

  Poppy ran a hand over her hair, knowing it must be standing on end. She glanced down to see if she'd gotten her shirt fastened correctly and sighed. She hadn't.

  "I can just imagine what you were doing when we arrived."

  Every wrinkle, every misaligned snap, every tousled hair was magnified in the mirror of Millicent's hate. But Poppy had to remember she hadn't done anything wrong. She straightened her shoulders and waited for the storm.

  Millicent looked from Poppy to her husband and her eyes narrowed. "I might have known," she said, her voice soft and vicious. "You planned this, didn't you?" She didn't wait for his answer. "You and all your lovey-dovey talk about wanting to make a new start. You and all your lies about how you asked this—this—woman to help you get me back. You aren't going to get away with this. I'll take care of you later. Right now..." She turned to Poppy, malevolence in every line of her body. Hate surrounded her like an aura. Poppy c
ould almost swear she smelled sulfur and brimstone.

  She closed her eyes against the rush of guilt and reminded herself that Millicent had been like this B.P.—Before Poppy. Her 'help' hadn't turned a normal woman into this raving maniac. "Millicent," she said. "Bill isn't lying. He did ask me to—"

  "You keep out of this. Surely you can't imagine I'd be silly enough to take your word for anything?"

  Poppy flinched. Under the circumstances she couldn't really blame the woman.

  "This is where I get even with you, you lying little home wrecker."

  "I thought I heard voices," Alice said from the doorway. "You must be the Endlers. I'm Alice Bailey. Welcome to the Montana Blue Ranch. All the other guests are out on the evening walk, but there will be a marshmallow roast by the pool in a little bit, if you're interested."

  "Thank you."

  To Poppy's amazement, Millicent had become as calm and cool as if she presided over a garden club meeting. Poppy glanced at Bill, who watched Millicent with the fixed stare he might have given a cobra.

  Unfortunately, Millicent saw Poppy's look, and her expression turned to pure venom. "I should warn you about this—this person," she said to Alice.

  "You mean Poppy?" Alice sounded puzzled.

  "She's an evil woman."

  "She's practically a member of the family," Alice said. "Surely you're mistaking her for someone else." She put a hand on Millicent's arm. "Let me show you—"

  "No. I won't stay here if she does. And she won't, once you find out—"

  "Hello, everyone." Tom came through the door. "Hey, Bill. Good to see you again."

  Bill laughed weakly and shook Tom's hand. "Bet you didn't know Poppy was such a good salesman for your ranch. She never thought I'd really show up here."

  "That's great. After all, I made that whole trip back east to drum up business. Glad it worked. And this must be your lovely wife. Welcome to the Montana Blue. I'm Tom Bailey." He shook Millicent's hand and apparently only then noticed the tension in the room. "Am I interrupting something?"

  "I was trying to tell your wife about this woman. She seems to want to argue with me, but I know what I'm talking about," Millicent said with such confidence that Poppy wondered if anyone had ever dared to contradict her. Millicent turned to Alice. "You can't tell me you haven't had any problems with her where your husband is concerned."

  Feeling as if she'd been tied to the railroad tracks with an express train bearing down on her, Poppy watched Alice part her lips to speak. Watched uncertainty flicker in her eyes. Watched her close them before any words came out. Saw spiteful satisfaction spread across Millicent's face.

  "I thought so," Millicent crowed. "So you should know just what she is."

  Tom moved to Alice's side and put his arm around her. "Poppy's not what you think, Mrs. Endler."

  "Surely you're not going to take a man's word for that?" Millicent said to Alice, her voice scornful.

  Alice nodded. "Yes, I—"

  "Silly, silly girl. Just to show you what kind of evil woman this is, let me tell you what I found out. Among other things, the whole time she carried on with my Bill, she was living with another man. Someone I thought was our friend. I'll bet you anything that hasn't changed just because she's out here trifling with your husband."

  Jase made an all-too-timely entrance.

  "You! I might have known you'd be here, too," Millicent spat.

  Poppy nearly smiled at the look on her roommate's face until Millicent rounded on him. "You—you—" Her mouth twisted but she couldn't seem to find a bad enough word. She turned to Tom. "He didn't even care that the woman he was living with was involved with another man, my Bill. I wouldn't be surprised if he set it up."

  Jase took a step forward, and she scurried behind Tom. "Don't let him hurt me," she whimpered.

  Mac strode in with a broom and dustpan just in time to catch Millicent's last words. "No one is going to hurt anyone," he said. "What's going on?"

  Poppy leaned back against the mantel, afraid she'd faint any minute.

  "I was just enlightening your friends about this woman," Millicent said, her voice sweet and helpful. "I encountered her last month, back in Boston. I'm only sorry I didn't arrive in time to warn you about her."

  Mac moved to Poppy and put his arm around her. "I don't think you can tell us anything particularly relevant."

  Poppy cuddled against him gratefully, the frozen paralysis of her heart releasing a little.

  "Oh, but I can." Millicent sounded confident. "I'm sure you already know that she's an unprincipled home wrecker—"

  "No, she isn't," Alice said.

  Mac's arm tightened around Poppy.

  "—who was fired for having an affair with one of her coworkers. Not only that, but she's a common streetwalker. I saw my Bill pick her up on a street corner," Millicent announced triumphantly.

  "That was a set-up," Bill shouted. "My God, Millie, I've told you a hundred times. You were supposed to see that. That was the whole purpose. We went to a bar and had drinks, in case you followed."

  "I know you did," his wife said, and Poppy had never heard a human voice sound so much like a snarl. "I did follow. I saw you sit in a bar with this slut and buy her drinks and gaze into her eyes. I saw you." Millicent's eyes blazed.

  Fury? Hurt pride? Genuine grief? Poppy couldn't tell, but she felt sick that she'd had a part in it.

  "But, Mrs. Endler," Alice, ever the peacemaker, said. "Surely they were doing just what your husband said—"

  "She took money." Millicent drew herself up, dramatic as a soap-box orator. "She's nothing but a common prostitute. I found the check my husband wrote to her." Millicent paused, triumphant.

  "I tried to pay her for her time. She wouldn't take it," Bill yelled. "I told you that."

  "So why was the check cashed?" Millicent had gone purple with fury.

  "Because I insisted on paying for her time. She said she'd donate it to the Humane Society."

  Poppy shrank back against Mac.

  He steadied her...and then stepped away. "You picked him up on the street corner?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "And went to a bar?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Did you take that money from him?"

  "Yes. But—"

  "Right. I understand."

  "You don't understand. I didn't sleep with him. Let me explain."

  "You should listen to her, Mac," Alice said in her soft, rational voice. "Poppy wouldn't lie to you."

  She might as well have poured gasoline on a fire. "I thought that about you once, too," he said, as harsh a thing as he'd ever said to his sister. His expression told Poppy that he believed Millicent. His words, soft and mild, tore her heart open. "Well, honey, you're good. I really believed you cared."

  "I did. I do. Please..."

  But the door had closed behind him.

  Chapter 15

  Poppy listened to Mac's angry footsteps pound down the hall into silence and a thin shell of numbness surrounded her. If she spoke, if she moved, it would break and she wanted to stay in this not-feeling state forever. But everyone talked at her at once. Jase gripped her shoulder. Alice led her to a couch and Tom thrust a glass at her, holding it to her frozen lips when she didn't take it. The whiskey burned through the shell, and noise and feeling crashed in on her. She moaned.

  Millicent leaned down, looming too close. "Ha. Just what you deserve, you—"

  Poppy ignored her. "Why in the world did you ever want to stay married to her, Bill? I know what I did was inexcusable. There's no reason for her to forgive me, but if she loved you, she'd at least listen to your explanation." She stood. "I believe I'll go to my cabin now," she told Alice with brittle, false calm. If she hurried, she could get away before...before...just before.

  "I don't think so," Alice told her, and she sounded so much like Mac that Poppy whimpered. "Tom, will you show the Endlers to their cabin? I think we can do without more of their input tonight. I'm taking Poppy to our sitting room."r />
  "Good idea." Tom pushed Millicent and Bill out the door.

  Poppy heard Bill's voice as they went down the hall. "You've always underrated yourself, Millie. I know you're acting like this because you're unhappy, that somewhere inside you're still the wonderful woman I married. Tonight I'm going to tell you exactly why I wanted to stay married to you, and..."

  It looked like someone would get a happy ending. But it wouldn't be Poppy. Misery swelled inside her as Alice tucked an afghan around her and Jase offered more whiskey.

  * * *

  Mac grabbed a horse from the corral and slapped a saddle on it before he realized he'd gotten Trigger. He snorted at the irony of riding Poppy's horse to get away from the pain of learning the truth about her.

  He hadn't believed Millicent. Not until he had looked at Poppy and seen terror written plain on her face. He'd seen that same flash of terror, those wide, pleading eyes on his ex-wife that day he'd come home too early. Just for a split second, before she decided to brazen it out, but still the same.

  How could he have been such a sucker again? In spite of himself, he'd ignored his suspicions of Poppy. Had been thinking all those permanent thoughts. Had loved her.

  The pictures Millicent had drawn were all too clear in his mind. Poppy, smiling at Bill, cuddling in a booth in a dark, intimate bar with him. And there must have been others. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of her smiling up from a tangle of sheets at numberless, faceless men. Just like his ex-wife. He swallowed hard to keep from gagging.

  Trigger wasn't particularly happy with this midnight ride, but Mac kept urging him on, up and up and farther up into the hills, scarcely knowing where he headed. Not until the horse stopped to drink at a stream did Mac recognize the little valley.

  The Montana Blue claim looked much like every place he'd ridden through tonight, but it held memories that twisted him with pain. Its sapphires were safely hidden; the memories all but glowed in the dark.