Small-Town Girl (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) (Mills & Boon Superromance)

by Carmichael, C. J.

  Cynthia and her kids lived in the house next to Adrienne. She was the single mom who worked weekends for Lucky.

  “She wanted an appointment for a perm,” Adrienne added, shooting Julie a prodding glance, obviously still determined to land Julie in her hairdressing chair. She’d even resorted to offering a three-for-one deal. If Julie came in for a cut and style, Adrienne would trim Russell’s and Ben’s hair free.

  Adrienne planted her manicured hands on the empty counter in front of her. “Where is Donna, anyway? I’m dying for a coffee here.”

  “She’s just having a word with Jim,” Julie said, trying to explain.

  “Anyway.” Adrienne sounded as though she was in dire need of oxygen as she carried on with her earlier story. “According to Cynthia, Bernie English came in the store last weekend, and guess what?”

  Julie waited.

  “She didn’t buy a pregnancy test kit!”

  “Bernie didn’t buy a pregnancy test kit and this is news?”

  “Bernie has been buying those kits regularly for the past three months. And now she’s stopped. Must mean she’s…”

  “Bernie English is pregnant?” Donna’s voice carried over the length of the café as she emerged from the kitchen.

  “Well, she might be,” Adrienne conceded.

  The half dozen or so people still seated at the booths absorbed that comment before returning their attention to their breakfasts. Soon the news would be all over town, Julie was sure. Thank goodness she’d purchased her own pregnancy test kit in Yorkton.

  ANOTHER WEEKEND MEANT another Sunday dinner at Betty and Larry’s. Julie could smell the beef roast from halfway down the block as she, Russell, Ben and Watson walked the short distance along Lakeshore Drive. Ben had started out holding Watson’s leash, until an enticing pile of leaves at the end of one driveway distracted him.

  As Julie watched her son dive in and bury himself, then emerge seconds later laughing, a small arrow of joy burst through her bad humor.

  Why was she dreading this dinner so much? It probably wouldn’t be that bad. Besides, Ben was happy to be going—he loved his grandparents.

  Seeing Ben having so much fun, Watson pulled on his leash and Julie eased off enough to allow the dog to nose his way through the leaves to the boy. Ben hugged the growing puppy around the neck, then the two of them rolled around until both were thoroughly engulfed in yellow.

  “I’ll have to come back later and bag poor Mr. Ferguson’s leaves for him,” Russell commented.

  “Good idea.” The yard was a mess now, and so were Ben and Watson. Hopefully they would shed most of the leaves before they reached the Matthews’ house.

  Worked into a frenzy, the puppy came barreling for Julie. She crouched to dog level to keep from tumbling over. Whatever mix of breeds Watson had come from, clearly he was going to grow into one big dog. She regained control of the leash, then scrubbed the side of his neck with her fingers.

  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Watson?” She stood and beckoned to her son. “Come on, Sherlock—you, too.”

  “That was fun!”

  “I could tell.” She picked several leaves from his hair, then ran a hand down his back, dislodging several more. “Grandma has dinner waiting, though. Can’t you smell it?”

  “Mmm.” Ben lifted his nose in an unconsciously canine attitude. “Yeah! Yorkshire pudding! Come on, Watson!” He grabbed the leash from his mother and took off in a sprint. Leaves scattered as boy and dog dashed for the house at the end of the block.

  “He’s looking more coordinated, don’t you think?” Julie hoped she wasn’t imagining the improvement.

  “Definitely.”

  Russell took hold of her hand and she was glad for his presence beside her. He matched his pace to hers as they walked under the canopy of bare poplar branches and through the debris of browning yellow leaves. Julie gave a sigh of contentment. How many couples took small moments like these for granted? she wondered.

  Ahead, Ben threw himself into his grandpa’s waiting arms. The tall, white-haired man stooped to Ben’s level, then crouched to Watson’s. When Russell and Julie drew closer, he smiled.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Son.”

  The short exchange between Russell and his father tugged at Julie’s heart. Not the words, but the expression on both men’s faces as they regarded each other with affection, pride, love.

  “Are they here?” Betty’s voice sounded from somewhere in the house. “Then come carve the roast, Larry. I’m just making gravy now.”

  First Ben and Watson, then Julie, Larry and finally Russell stepped into the spacious center hall. Julie had always admired the layout of her in-laws’ colonial-style home. To the right was the formal living room; to the left, a den. Stairs rose in front of them to the upper four bedrooms. Ahead was the kitchen, the source of all the delectable smells.

  Watson’s nose led the way.

  “Benny! Oh, and your adorable Watson!” Betty gave the boy a kiss; the dog, a small piece of roast. If anything, her eyes managed to brighten at the sight of her son.

  “Russ, honey, how are you? Could you pour the wine, please? There’s an open bottle on the counter.”

  Julie, who could feel her muscles bracing, her throat drying, forced herself to step forward. “Hi, Betty. Everything smells wonderful.”

  “There you are, Julie. I didn’t see you at first. Russ, please make sure your wife gets a glass of wine.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  He’d already filled four glasses; now he handed one to Julie, pressing a kiss on the top of her head at the same time. Rather than say no to the wine and raise questions, Julie accepted a glass, knowing she wouldn’t drink any of it.

  “Can I help, Betty?” Julie always offered, but Betty rarely accepted.

  “No, I have everything under control, I think. Russ, if you could just get the gravy boat for me.” She glanced at the cupboard over the fridge, which was too high for her to reach. “And maybe, Ben, sweetie, you could wash your hands, then put out the plate of raw veggies I made for you. They’re in the fridge.”

  From the warming tray, Betty removed a casserole of mashed potatoes, another of green beans and almonds. The Yorkshire puddings, fresh from the oven, were transferred into a wicker basket, and Larry had the roast neatly carved on a large white platter.

  “I guess we can eat,” Betty announced.

  Ten minutes later, plates were full. Julie sat across from her husband and Ben. At either end of the table were Larry and Betty. Julie made sure to compliment everything she ate. As usual, her son and husband devoured Betty’s meal. Julie rarely prepared these traditional meat-and-vegetable dinners. But perhaps she should.

  Heather probably cooks like this, a small voice in her head taunted.

  “Did you see the scaffolding up at the café this morning?” Larry asked. “Seems they’re taking down the old sign.”

  With her mouth full of food, Julie couldn’t explain, right away, what was going on.

  “Really?” Betty put another helping of beef on Russell’s plate. “Now, why would they do that?”

  Julie swallowed her food. “They want to spruce the place up.”

  Everyone turned to her, expressions blank.

  “Actually, Donna and Jim hired me to help them.” She didn’t add that T. J. Colins and Lucky had done the same. Already the vibes coming off Betty were negative. Julie wished she’d simply kept her mouth shut.

  “They hired you? What for?”

  “Well, I am a designer and I have worked on these sorts of projects before. Color consultation and a little decorating.”

  “Really? I thought only rich people went in for that sort of thing.”

  “All sorts of people seek advice from interior designers. It’s a good investment in the long run. Picking the wrong paint color or furniture that doesn’t suit your lifestyle can be a costly mistake.”

  “I’ve never had trouble selecting paint colors or buying furniture.” Betty thr
ew a queenly gaze over the table. “Seconds, Russell? Ben? You boys seem starved. Maybe I should wrap the leftover roast for you to take home. You can have roast beef sandwiches for school all next week.”

  After apple pie, served with cheddar cheese and ice cream, the adults took their coffee into the family room, which overlooked the lake.

  When Ben asked if he could play with Watson in the backyard, Julie warned him to stay away from the water. “And don’t go on the dock without an adult watching you.” Betty and Larry’s yard didn’t have a fence as theirs did.

  “The boy swims, doesn’t he?” Larry asked.

  “Like a fish,” Russell said.

  “He’ll be fine.” Betty sounded impatient, as if there had never been any question.

  Swimming was the one activity Ben could still do as well as he could before the accident. But Julie didn’t care. She knew the lake was deep off the dock. And a nine-year-old boy, even one who knew how to swim, could easily get himself in trouble. But obviously everyone here thought she was worrying too much again.

  She positioned herself so she could keep an eye on Ben through the window as he played. An old tire swing hung on a tree near the house, and Ben grabbed on to that, letting his feet drag on the ground as he swayed.

  Watching her, Larry leaned over to pat her knee. “He’s fine.”

  “Right.” She smiled stiffly, telling herself her father-in-law meant well. He just didn’t understand.

  “I realize it’s hard after the accident. But you’ve got to learn to let go a little,” Larry continued.

  “Boys Ben’s age don’t need their mothers hovering over them every second of the day,” Betty concurred. “When Russ was nine, he’d leave the house in the morning and I wouldn’t see him again until he got hungry.”

  Julie shot Russell a beseeching glance. Her husband, reclining in an easy chair, his back to the window, gave her a cryptic shrug. She could guess what he was trying to tell her. Just let them talk. It doesn’t hurt anything.

  Probably he agreed with what his parents were saying. Wasn’t he always after her to lighten up on the rules where Ben was concerned?

  Julie didn’t get it. How could these people not worry about Ben the way she did? They were his closest relatives. Surely they could see the changes in the boy, changes that made him more vulnerable to accidents and injury. He wasn’t as strong, as smart or as coordinated as he’d been.

  Why was she the only one who seemed to care about that?

  “You know, maybe the answer is for you to have a second child. Then Ben wouldn’t be the focus of all your attention.”

  Betty’s comment hit Julie like a slap. Outraged, she glanced at Russell, gratified to see that for once, even he seemed mildly surprised at his mother’s nerve. But Larry was already speaking.

  “Betty and I would have loved to have a big family.”

  Julie had heard this before, and knew Betty had suffered three miscarriages before accepting she would only have the one child.

  “Have you tried to get pregnant again?”

  “Mom, please. I know you care about us, but this isn’t really any of your business.” Russell gave Julie an apologetic smile.

  “Your father and I are speaking from experience, son. Don’t you think Ben would love a brother or sister? Look at him with that dog—he’s lonely.”

  “Mom!”

  Julie shut her eyes. Swallowed. Along with anger and resentment, she felt a flash of guilt. Of course she’d worried about Ben not having a sibling to play with. That was why she’d always made an effort to have his friends over often. And Ben had never complained. He’d seemed to enjoy having lots of attention from his mother and father.

  But she wasn’t going to defend her choices to Betty and Larry. Not about this, or anything else.

  For once, her husband agreed.

  “Whether we have another child or not is between Julie and me, Mom. Period.” Russell left his chair and went to the window. For a few seconds he watched Ben, then he turned back to face his parents and Julie.

  In those five seconds, his face appeared to age five years. Julie saw again the expression he’d worn at the side of Ben’s hospital bed. Haggard and worried, yet buoyed with an underlying core of strength.

  “Julie and I decided a long time ago that we would have only one child. And frankly, Mom and Dad, a new baby is the last thing we need right now.”

  THAT NIGHT JULIE TOOK the second test that had come in the pregnancy kit. You never knew. There could have been a mistake. And her period had been late before. With all the stress of the past few months it would be no wonder. In fact, wasn’t it supposed to be harder to get pregnant when you were under stress?

  She had herself so convinced she couldn’t possibly be pregnant that when she saw the positive result for the second time, she almost couldn’t believe it.

  “No.” She stared at the stupid plastic stick. “No, no, no!”

  Oh, God, she didn’t want to be pregnant. She’d only ever wanted one child. And now Russell…

  She’d thought that he, at least, might be more receptive to this strange twist of fate. But tonight he’d made it clear he would consider this second pregnancy a total disaster.

  Pressing her hands to her flat stomach, Julie tried to visualize what was happening in there. She felt no different, looked no different. Yet inside her, changes were already in progress. Cells were dividing, hormones were multiplying—and she couldn’t do anything about it.

  Nine months from now—actually, less time than that—there’d be a baby.

  She had to tell Russell.

  But she couldn’t.

  A tap sounded on the bathroom door. “Jule? Finished your bath?”

  She scrunched up the remains of the pregnancy kit inside a brown paper bag, then pushed it to the bottom of the garbage. “Just a minute,” she called as she washed her hands. When they were dry, she opened the door.

  Russell glanced at her robe, her bare toes, then back at her face. “I just wanted to brush my teeth.”

  “It’s all yours.” She left the room, checked on Ben, then headed for her side of the bed. She didn’t bother turning on the light, just closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep before Russell finished in the bathroom.

  But she didn’t, couldn’t. She heard her husband enter the room, undress in the dark, crawl in on his side of the mattress.

  Part of her ached for him to draw close to her, even as she hoped he would just go to sleep without talking. She heard him expel a fatigued breath.

  “I’m sorry about my parents tonight, Jule. They were unbelievable.”

  “I suppose they meant well.” She rolled onto her back.

  “That’s generous of you.”

  “I do try with your mother. But frankly, our relationship only seems to get worse, no matter what I do.”

  “She must feel threatened by you or something. I just don’t get it. When I was a kid she was always so nice to my friends.”

  Julie wondered if Betty had been friendly to Heather in particular. She had a suspicion that she had been, and that Betty’s feelings for Heather might be part of the problem here. “Is there any chance your parents knew about Heather’s pregnancy?”

  Covers rustled, and suddenly Russell’s voice sounded much closer. “I wouldn’t think so. Otherwise they’d have told me.”

  “Not if they found out too late for you to do anything about it.”

  “You mean, too late for me to marry Heather?”

  “Exactly. That’s what your parents would have expected, isn’t it?” Turning, she found Russell just inches away. She closed her eyes when he reached out to smooth her hand. His touch felt so wonderful—but he withdrew his hand all too soon.

  “I suppose they may have.”

  And would you have? If you’d been told about the baby? Julie simply could not ask even though she longed for the answer.

  “Russell, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did. I owe
her.”

  “Heather?”

  “Yeah. Imagining what she went through on her own makes me feel like a jerk. But what can I do to make that up to her now?”

  Julie couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t want Russell obliged to Heather—she could imagine all too clearly where such feelings might lead. At the same time, how could she blame him for accepting responsibility, even at this late date?

  “What about the child, Russell? You said Heather doesn’t want to interfere. But is that the right solution for you?” Julie had been thinking about this. If Russell decided to track down his child, and if the child wanted Russell to be part of his life, how would she cope?

  And what about Ben? They’d have to explain the situation somehow—the sudden appearance of a boy who lived with other parents but was also Ben’s half brother….

  “I have to admit a part of me wants to find him.”

  Julie’s heart sank, even though she’d expected nothing less from her husband.

  “But that’s just a gut reaction,” Russell continued. “If the kid’s happy with his adopted parents, does he really need some strange man showing up in his life and claiming to be his real father? I don’t know. I keep imagining Ben in that scenario, and frankly, I guess he’d just be upset.”

  He drew the covers in a little tighter, eased marginally away from Julie. “Still, it’s weird to think that somewhere out there I have a son I’ll probably never meet.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  QUESTION: MY NEW HUSBAND and I are decorating our first house together. We married late in life and money is not an obstacle. Taste, however, is! He wants everything to be neutral and timeless. I love color and quirky pieces with personality. Can you help us?

  Julie tossed the e-mail printout onto her desk. Why had this couple married in the first place? They were total opposites. It was all too easy to extrapolate their dissimilarities in decorating style onto differences in bed, preferences in food, approaches to raising a child, for heaven’s sake!

  “These two don’t need an interior designer. They need a marriage counselor.”