That Jones Girl (The Mississippi McGills, Sequel)

by Webb, Peggy

  “That calls for a celebration.” Tess slid off his lap and caught the side of the rocking chair.

  “Tess?” Mick grabbed her arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Too much dancing round and round.” She took two deep breaths, then smiled at him. “I guess I’m getting old.”

  “Then many me before you get any older.”

  It was the first time he had mentioned marriage since they’d come to Texas.

  “You know my position on that, Mick.”

  “And you know mine.”

  Their eyes locked, and both of them felt a battle coming on. It would be their first in a long, long time.

  “You’ll leave again,” she said, her chin outthrust. “You always do.”

  She saw his quick anger boil to the surface. His

  eyes sparkled, and his jaw clenched. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the anger died away.

  He reached out and tenderly traced the side of her jaw.

  “Don’t be thinking I’ll ever leave you, Tess, my girl.” His fingers moved across her lips. “Or disapprove of you.” He bent his head close. “Or try to change you.” His lips were so close and she could feel his warm breath across her cheek. “I love you... just the way you are. Always have and always will. It took me a long time to figure it out.”

  She closed her eyes and let herself go limp. Suddenly he scooped her in his arms and strode down the hallway.

  “Casey and OToole will be back from their walk soon,” she said.

  Flannigan kicked the bedroom door shut behind them. “Casey knows to respect a closed door.”

  They left a trail of clothes all the way to the bed.

  o0o

  The days grew shorter, and fall began to nip the air. In the cottage beside Ray Hubbard Lake outside Dallas, Casey and OToole sat watching their favorite game show, while Tess strained her eyes to see down the dark path.

  Flannigan was late. He’d never been this late. She stilled the panic that began to rise in her chest. This very moment he could be winging his way south, leaving her and Casey and OToole to pick up their lives and go on without him.

  “No.” She clutched her middle, moaning.

  “Did you say something?” Casey looked up from his game show.

  “I was just humming.” Tess walked away from the window, humming a jazzy tune under her breath. Oh dear God, not now. Flannigan couldn’t leave now.

  The front door banged open, and in walked Flannigan, his arms loaded and face split with a huge grin.

  “Top of the evening.” He grinned at her over his armload. “Come and give me a kiss, Tess, my girl. I can’t get to you with all this stuff.”

  Relief made her legs weak as she leaned over the hammer and wood and dowels and screws and gave him a warm welcome-home kiss.

  “What is all this?” she asked as she stepped back.

  “My new hobby.” He dumped his supplies in the middle of the floor. “Wood carving.” He began to sort through the mess, whistling.

  “Wood carving? It looks as if you’re planning to build the Taj Mahal.”

  “No. I’m building a cradle—for Jenny.” Her face turned pale, and she clutched the back of the rocking chair, but Flannigan didn’t seem to notice. He was puttering around his pile of tools, sorting and whistling.

  He looked up, smiling. “Do you think she’d like roses carved along the headboard?”

  “Who?” Tess whispered.

  “Jenny.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as if only yesterday they had discussed what they would name their firstborn daughter.

  “Aren’t you presuming a lot?”

  “No. I’m planning on being a father.” Flannigan turned back to the pile of lumber that would be a cradle and began to whistle again.

  Tess’s hands balled into fists, and she stalked toward him. “And who might you be planning to be the mother Flannigan?”

  He stood up and bracketed her shoulders. “You, my love.”

  “I never said I’d marry you, let alone bear your children.”

  She stood glaring at him, nose to nose. He didn’t back down an inch.

  Casey, sensing a storm, picked up OToole and left quietly, by the back door.

  “Ahh, Tess.” Flannigan leaned closer and brushed his lips across hers.

  “Don’t.” She jerked her head back. “Don’t get me sidetracked.”

  He cupped her face. “How long were you going to wait to tell me, Tess, my girl?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Did you think you could keep the secret forever?”

  “What secret?”

  “Ahh, my stubborn Tess.” Flannigan moved closer, caressing her cheeks as he talked. “I’ve seen the changes in your body, my love.” He flattened one hand across her abdomen. “I know you carry my child here, in your womb.”

  With his hand over her womb, pressing gently against the precious burden she carried there, Tess melted. She’d known for weeks that she was pregnant. Each day she had waited for Flannigan to grow restless and walk out the door. And each day when he came back, she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.

  And now he was building a cradle—for Jenny. She wanted to give in. She wanted to grab her dream with both hands and hold on tight. For she knew, at long, long last, that what she wanted most in the world was Flannigan and all the things he had to offer—the passion, the humor, the gentleness, the brooding, even the longing for adventure she sometimes saw lurking in his eyes.

  Ten years ago they had set out on their journey together, then had got separated and visited different places; and now they were back on the same train, going to the same destination. She didn’t ever want to leave the train again, but she had to make certain that Flannigan was on board for the right reasons—and for the duration.

  “We live in a modern age, Flannigan. A man is no longer obligated to marry the mother of his child.”

  “Obligated?” His hands gripped her shoulders, and he crushed her so close, her head was forced back. “Did you say obligated?” Thunder and lightning flashed just behind his eyes.

  “That’s what I said. A woman has choices.”

  “If you think I’d let you go, you’d best reconsider.”

  “Because of Jenny?”

  “Because of you.” He bent so close, his lips were almost touching hers. “I’ve waited, Tess... waited for you to come to your senses...”

  “Come to my senses!”

  “...and marry me.” He moved a fraction closer so that his lips grazed hers. “I’ve waited for you to know that I’ll never leave you, that I’ll always love you, no matter what you do.” Suddenly he scooped her up into his arms. “I’m waiting no more, Tess.”

  “What are you going to do?” He said nothing, but marched resolutely from the room. “Flannigan, put me down.”

  He ignored her. His boots thundered against the hardwood floor as he made his way to their bedroom.

  She looked at his face and then at the bed.

  “We can’t always settle our differences here, Flannigan.”

  He lowered her to the bed, then straightened up and ripped aside his shirt. Buttons went flying all over the room.

  “Who says I’m settling differences?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, and his boots clattered to the floor. Next he peeled out of his tight jeans. Naked, Flannigan was a magnificent sight.

  “If you think you can win me with your body, Flannigan, you’re wrong.”

  Even as Tess spoke, she was lifting her arms toward him.

  “Who says I’m winning you?”

  His eyes blazed as he ran his hands up her skirt and tore aside her tiny silk bikinis. With his hands under her hips, he lifted her to meet his thrust. When he was home, settled deep inside her, he propped himself on his elbows and gazed down into her eyes.

  “I’m taking you captive, my love.”

  “Flannigan.” He began to move, and the earth spun away.

  “I’m planning to stay here, in this bedroom with you
under me, until you say ‘yes.’“

  “Flannigan... Flannigan.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Will you go away if I say yes this soon?”

  “No. Ill never go away.” His movements became fierce and possessive. “Never.”

  “Then, yes, Flannigan.” She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Yes.”

  He gave her the smile that had been designed by angels.

  “I think I’ll keep you captive anyhow, Tess, my girl.”

  EPILOGUE

  Tess and Mick Flannigan established a tradition that the birth of each child would be celebrated with a huge welcome-to-the-world party.

  Baby Casey Flannigan lay in his crib, hand-carved by his father, and observed the crowd who had come to celebrate his birth. He knew them all by name, for he was the smartest baby boy in all of Texas. That’s what his daddy had told him, and he believed it. He was also the handsomest. His mother had told him that, and he believed her too.

  There was Johnny Kalinopolis, the tall, gray-haired man standing beside the mantel. He was talking to Lovey and Jim Hawkins and a pretty little dark-haired girl named Babs. Casey thought he might grow up and marry Babs. He fancied himself as a man of the world who might love an older woman someday.

  Baby Casey had lots of cousins—Andy and Maggie, the twins, then Joey and baby Elaine. Baby Elaine blew spit bubbles all the time. Casey was hoping she’d teach him how.

  All his cousins belonged to Aunt Margaret Leigh and Uncle Andrew McGill. Aunt Margaret Leigh was his mother’s sister, and she was very nice, but he liked his uncle Andrew best. He smelled like leather and pine woods, and he’d promised Casey a bird-dog puppy when he was six. He hoped it didn’t take too long to get six.

  A very old woman called Aunt Bertha sat in the rocking chair beside his crib, and she had said she was his grandmother. He doubted that, but if it made her happy, he’d go along. His real grandparents were on the love seat beside the bay windows, holding hands—Casey and Natasha. Natasha jingled when she walked, and Casey talked funny, like music. They lived together in a little cottage behind Baby Casey’s big white house. His daddy had told him Casey and Natasha were very special people who had met and fallen in love when Baby Casey’s oldest sister was born.

  Baby Casey had three sisters, but his oldest sister was his favorite. Micki and Susan were nice if you liked rowdy, dark-headed sisters, but Jenny was still the best. She had blue eyes that looked like the sky and pretty red hair that glowed in the sunlight. And she was always singing.

  Baby Casey loved for Jenny to lean over his crib and sing a lullaby. Her voice was almost as pretty as his mother’s.

  Baby Casey twisted around so he could see his mother, Tess. She was standing in the open doorway, shading her face against the sunlight and looking up into the sky. He guessed when he went somewhere with his bird-dog puppy and his mother, everybody would sit up and take notice, for it was certain she’d be the most beautiful mother there.

  Suddenly Baby Casey heard a roar in the sky, and his mother left the doorway. Baby Casey grunted with the effort of rolling his head sideways so he could see her out the window. She was running across a field of bluebonnets with her arms outstretched.

  Baby Casey’s big, handsome daddy stepped down from the cockpit, threw off his helmet, and began to run. Tess and Flannigan met in the middle of the field of flowers, and Flannigan lifted her high in the air. They stayed that way for a long time, and it looked as if they were dancing.

  Then Flannigan lowered Tess to the ground and bent over her. They were kissing. Baby Casey knew because they did it all the time.

  It looked like an awful lot of fun. He couldn’t wait until he got big enough to try it.

  o0o

  Coming August, 2013 – The Sweetest Hallelujah by Elaine Hussey (pen name for Peggy Webb), literary fiction in trade paperback and E-book, MIRA. In 1955, two women cross color lines to save a child.

  o0o

  Chapter Excerpt

  Can’t Stop Loving You (Forever Friends, Book 1)

  Peggy Webb

  (now available)

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Over my dead body!”

  When Brick Sullivan got really mad, the furniture shook. The coffee table was doing a fandango across the wooden floor, the chandelier was rattling like an oak tree in a gale, and the stuffed pillows were cowering against the sofa like frightened rabbits.

  Angelica Murphy tried to soothe her client.

  “Now, Brick... this is not a firm commitment.” He favored her with the lifted black brow and the curled lip that had earned him the adoration of fans around the world. “You know I would never make a commitment like that without consulting you. I did, however, give tentative approval to the plan, and I strongly urge you to consider it.”

  Brick paused in his thunderous stalking around her office, scooped the letter off her desk, and began to read aloud.

  “ ‘This will surely be the event of the century: The reuniting of Sullivan and Sullivan in The Taming of the Shrew.’ “

  The voice that sent women swooning in the aisles of movie houses and theaters never failed to move Angelica to tears... of gratitude. If it weren’t for Brick Sullivan, she would still be occupying a tiny little cubbyhole without a window instead of an office that commanded a view of Fifth Avenue.

  Brick threw the letter back onto her desk.

  “I’ve tamed that shrew once; I have no intention of ever doing it again. Onstage or off.”

  Knowing how Brick loved exits, she waited until he was at the door before having her say.

  “Helen has already accepted.”

  He turned slowly, an actor from the top of his glorious mane of black hair to the tips of his polished number eleven boots. The brow went up once more.

  “Obviously she doesn’t know I’m part of the package.”

  “She knows.”

  “And she still accepted?”

  “Of course. Your wife always did have great business sense.”

  “My ex.”

  “Sorry. I forgot.”

  “Like hell. You remember the make of socks I wore when I did my first Broadway show fifteen years ago. You never forget a damned thing, Angelica.”

  “Right.”

  “Wipe that witchy smile off your face. Hell will freeze over before I’ll ever occupy the same stage as Helen Sullivan.”

  “You know what the gossip columnists will say. ‘Brick Sullivan deserted his pet charity in a fashion worthy of the cowardly lion merely to avoid seeing the woman he loved on and off stage for five years. What does Helen Sullivan have that turns the mighty Brick into a sniveling mass of putty?’ “

  “I’ll tell you what she has; she has claws.”

  “And a fabulous career that she’s not willing to jeopardize over a simple matter of spending a few days in New Hampshire with you.”

  “I don’t know why I put up with you. You exaggerate everything.”

  “You put up with me because I’m gorgeous and sexy and I help you make more money than Ted Turner.” Angelica’s full-bodied chuckle caused her horn-rims to slide down her narrow nose and disturbed the starched front of her prim white blouse. “Ducking out of this small benefit performance will hardly jeopardize your career, Brick. But it will cast doubt on your commitment to the Children’s Hospital.”

  Brick sank onto Angelica’s plush sofa and crossed his long legs at the ankles.

  “When do I start rehearsals?”

  “How does tomorrow sound?”

  “You didn’t make a firm commitment, huh?”

  “I knew you’d come around. Underneath all that rough-and-tumble bad boy posturing, you’re a teddy bear.”

  “Don’t tell my fans.”

  Angelica trotted off to fetch a bottle of champagne from her break room. They always celebrated a deal with a toast: It was tradition for them. As Brick waited for her return, he began to lay his plans.

  He hadn’t seen Helen since their breakup two
years earlier, and he harbored no doubts whatsoever about their first encounter. It would be all-out war, and he had no intention of going into battle without his armor.

  o0o

  Chapter Excerpt

  Only His Touch (Forever Friends, Book 2)

  Peggy Webb

  (now available)

  PROLOGUE

  Six years was too long to live a lie. Standing at the railing with her back to the sea, Kathleen Shaw watched her husband cross the teakwood deck. His generous smile would have broken her heart if she’d had a heart to break.

  When he got close enough, he slid his arm around her and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “I don’t know which is more breathtaking, darling, you or the sea. No wonder you spend so much time up here.”

  “The water is peaceful, Earl.”

  He pulled her close, and she leaned against him, unconsciously reaching for the gold locket that nestled between her breasts.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts. We’ll be docking at Cape Town tomorrow, and you’ll be the belle of a social whirl that will make Mardi Gras seem tame.”

  “You’re the one who will cause the stir, Doctor.”

  “My Kathleen. Always sweet and sassy.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Are you ready for dinner, darling?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll be down in a while.”

  “Don’t take too long. Time drags when you’re not at my side.”

  She blew him a kiss, and he caught it in his left hand and pressed it to his lips. Dr. Earl Lennox, brilliant scientist, great humanitarian, adoring husband. How could she ever tell him good-bye without destroying him?

  As soon as he was out of sight, she hurried to their cabin and got a small silver box that was buried underneath her lingerie. Just holding the box felt like a betrayal of her husband. He would be sipping a glass of wine now, probably smiling, expecting at any moment to see her slip through the door and take her place at his side.

  Her hands trembled as she pressed the spring on her gold locket and took out a tiny key. Opening the box, she took out the contents, a stack of letters yellow with age.