by Amelia Autin
Rennie’s throat tightened. So this was Johanna Lowell. Blond, achingly beautiful, with a warm, loving smile for the person with the camera. Gideon?
A noise at the door alerted her. Rennie quickly stepped away from the photograph as Gideon shepherded his children into the room. She took a calming breath to quiet her emotions, then tacked a smile firmly into place.
“Rennie, this is Nicki,” Gideon said, his hand resting on his oldest daughter’s shoulder as he guided her forward. “Nicki, this is Rennie Fortier.”
Rennie almost lost her courage in that moment. Even if she’d thought she was ready to meet Gideon’s children, nothing could have prepared her for Nicki.
A lovely child of nine, with long blond hair framing a slender face, Nicki clearly resembled her mother far more than she did her father. But her eyes were Gideon’s, and those hazel eyes flashed, nakedly hostile. Rennie quailed under the look, but hid it as best she could and held out her hand.
“I’m glad to meet you, Nicki.” For a second she thought the girl would refuse to shake her hand, but Nicki finally, though with obvious reluctance, put her hand in Rennie’s. She drew it back almost immediately and rubbed it against the side of her leg, as if to remove the contamination of Rennie’s touch. Nicki was careful not to let her father see it, though, but her eyes held Rennie’s to make sure Rennie knew exactly what she was doing and why.
“And this is Trina,” Gideon continued, seeing more than either Rennie or Nicki wanted him to see, but not letting on. He drew Trina forward. She favored her mother, too, a six-year-old version of Nicki. But her face was slightly rounder than her sister’s, and where Nicki looked older than her years, Trina looked younger.
Taking her cue from her older sister, Trina refused to smile, but her eyes held no hostility, only confusion and a sadness that made Rennie want to cry.
Rennie bent down and shook Trina’s little hand, smiling warmly. “I’m glad to meet you, Trina.” Trina started to speak, glanced at Nicki, and fell silent, pulling away from Rennie and moving to stand next to her sister.
“And this is Andrew,” Gideon concluded, leaning over to ruffle the hair of the little boy whose baby features held the promise of resembling his father almost exactly.
Ignoring the silent disapproval radiating from Nicki, Rennie knelt in front of Gideon’s son and smiled.
“Hey, there, pardner.”
Andrew hid against his father’s leg.
“He’s a little shy,” Gideon said.
Rennie concealed her exasperation with her future husband. Obviously the boy was shy, but saying so in front of him only reinforced it.
“It’s okay.” Rennie spoke directly to Andrew and smiled again for his benefit when the little boy stole a glance at her. “I’m kind of shy, too.” She dug into her pocket for the quarter she’d put there earlier, and ostentatiously palmed it.
“Abracadabra!” She blew into her closed fist, then opened it to reveal an empty hand. Feigning amazement and searching the ground at their feet, she asked Andrew, “Where did it go?”
He shook his head, then watched in wide-eyed wonderment as Rennie reached over and plucked the quarter from his ear.
“Why, Andrew, how did this get there?” Delighted laughter was her reward, but there was even better to come.
“Do that again.” The request came, not from Andrew, but from Trina.
Rennie obliged, only this time the quarter reappeared in Trina’s shoe. Soon both children were pressing against Rennie, clamoring for more. Nicki, however, hung back, a sullen expression on her face.
As she tirelessly repeated the magic trick and its variations for Andrew and Trina, Rennie was nevertheless aware of Nicki’s deepening resentment. Obviously Nicki hadn’t wanted her little sister and brother to like Rennie any more than she did, and their defection rankled. But Rennie sensed there was something more behind Nicki’s attitude, emotions that went deeper than the natural resentment a child might feel toward a woman who was trying to take her mother’s place.
Emily Holden appeared in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready. Nicki, you and Trina take Andrew and help him wash up.”
Nicki was quick to oblige, triumphantly dragging her reluctant siblings away from Rennie. Gideon watched their exit with a thoughtful expression on his face, then escorted Rennie into the kitchen.
On the drive over, Gideon had explained that his sister-in-law was a widow with two children, and in the kitchen Rennie met Emily’s boys: Seth, ten, and Matt, seven. And she met Emily’s father-in-law, Jim Holden, a brash, plainspoken rancher, whose weathered face reminded Rennie of men she’d known growing up in Montana.
By the time Gideon’s children returned, Rennie and Gideon were already seated together at the table. Nicki slid into the seat on Gideon’s right before the two younger children could get there, and a problem quickly arose. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to sit beside Gideon.
Rennie got up and moved over before the problem became a major one. “Trina, why don’t you sit here between your Daddy and me?”
The little girl smiled shyly and seated herself. “Thank you.”
Which only left Andrew without a place near his father. Gideon solved that by picking up his son and holding him on his lap during the entire meal, totally unconcerned about Andrew’s limited abilities with a fork and spoon.
Conversation between the adults was almost impossible with five children at the table. With four of the five children in elementary school, talk centered on school activities. Rennie noticed that Gideon addressed questions to Nicki in a perfectly natural way, even though her answers were silent nods and shakes of her head.
After dinner the children were excused to do chores and homework. Only Andrew remained behind, stubbornly refusing all efforts to coax him from his father’s lap.
When Emily began to clear the table, Rennie jumped up to help, stacking the dishes on the counter while Emily rinsed them off. Afterward, Emily served coffee, and the four adults sat around the table. The excitement of the evening had been too much for Andrew, and he soon fell asleep in his father’s arms, his mouth making a small, damp patch on Gideon’s shirt.
“He didn’t have a nap today,” Emily explained apologetically to Gideon. “He knew you were coming this evening and he was too wound up to go down.”
“That’s okay. I’ll take him up to bed in a little bit.”
The conversation lagged, and it would have been awkward if not for Jim Holden, who kept it going almost by himself. Rennie’s reference to her father’s ranch in Montana in response to one of Jim’s questions brought an unexpected result.
“Fortier. Fortier. I know that name,” Jim mused, in a voice made raspy by too many cigarettes. “That wouldn’t be Frank Fortier, would it?”
Rennie felt the blood drain from her face, and she stared at the older man. “That’s right,” she said, forcing the words through stiff lips.
“Now, don’t tell me, it’ll come to me.” He thought for a moment, then said triumphantly, “The Circle F!”
Her throat went dry. “That’s right,” she repeated.
Jim chuckled and addressed the other two adults at the table. “I may be gettin’ on in years, but my mind’s still sharp as a tack about some things.” He looked at Rennie. “So you’re Frank Fortier’s daughter.” He smiled approvingly, then nodded to Gideon. “Good stock.”
Gideon glanced at Rennie, and she could almost hear what he was thinking. He obviously respected the older man’s opinion, and Jim’s approval of Rennie carried weight.
Then Jim’s grin faded as he remembered, and he said with gruff sympathy, “Heard about your father passin’ on. Let’s see now, must be eight, no, ten years back.”
“Yes,” she said softly, still feeling a pang of grief even after all these years.
“Heard the Circle F was sold right after he died. Guess Frank had no sons to carry on after him.” Jim voiced the chauvinistic thinking still so prevalent in the West, especially among the older generation.
“No,” Rennie said quietly. “He had no sons. Only me.”
The silence that followed her statement stretched out endlessly, until it was broken by Emily’s offer of more coffee.
“Not you, Jim,” she said over the older man’s growling protests. “Remember what the doctor said.”
“Damn doctors, what do they know.” Jim appealed to Gideon. “How’s a man supposed to function on only two measly cups of coffee a day, I ask you?”
Gideon smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me.”
Jim grumbled, but Emily obviously wasn’t going to give in, so he drained the dregs of his cup and turned back to Rennie.
“Come to think of it, I heard the Circle F was sold again a couple years back to one of them big cattle outfits up there.” Rennie froze, but no one seemed to notice. Then Jim shook his head and added, “It’s a damn shame the way the family ranchers are being driven off, one by one.”
The conversation drifted into that vein, and Rennie eventually relaxed enough to put a word or two in. But she was still relieved when Gideon shortly thereafter took Andrew to bed, then returned and announced it was time they left.
* * *
Gideon didn’t say much on the drive back to Rennie’s motel, but his pleased expression told its own story. Rennie, too, was quiet while she contemplated the evening’s results. Despite her failure with Nicki, she knew Gideon’s opinion of her suitability as a mother and a wife had risen several notches that evening. And her opinion of him had gone up, as well.
Gravel crunched as the truck pulled into the motel’s parking lot. Gideon turned off the engine, then shifted on the seat to face her and smiled unexpectedly, a flash of white in the semidarkness.
“You were pretty clever this evening. That magic trick broke the ice. What made you think of it?”
“Children’s belief in magic is fairly universal. Look at the most popular Disney movies. There’s magic in almost every one.”
“Come to think of it, you’re right.” They sat in silence for a minute, then the conversation took a serious turn. “So. You’ve met my children. Is your answer still the same?”
She hesitated for only a second. “Yes.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that. Here’s what we need to do, then.” Gideon ticked the items off on the fingers of his left hand. “One, the prenuptial agreement I mentioned earlier. My attorney’s office is in Sheridan. I called him this afternoon and he’ll squeeze us in tomorrow at ten. Two, blood tests. Last time I applied for a marriage license only the female applicant was required to have a blood test. I don’t know if the law has changed, but I assume you’ll want me to have one, too.”
“It would probably be wise.”
“I agree, and it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve known Doc Simms all my life, and he’ll rush the blood tests through as a favor to me. He’s got a clinic in Sheridan so we can get that done tomorrow, too. Three, marriage license. Cora Mae Kell at the post office is also city clerk. I think all we need to show her is your blood test and our birth certificates. You don’t happen to have yours with you, do you?”
Rennie shook her head, hiding a sudden jolt of fear at the mention of her birth certificate.
“Can you get it?”
She nodded. “But I’ll have to go back to Los Angeles.”
That checked him for a moment. “When will you go?”
“If we’re going to Sheridan tomorrow, I’ll fly out early Saturday morning. I have to go back, anyway, to pack up my things and ship them out here. I’ll come back as soon as I wrap things up there.”
“When, exactly?”
Rennie considered everything she needed to do, mentally summing up the time it would take. “I’ll need a week, maybe a little less.” She could see that her answer wasn’t quite the one he wanted, but what did he expect? She was uprooting her entire life for this man and his family. She needed more than just a couple of days.
“Well,” he said finally, “we can apply for the license as soon as you return. And maybe it would be a good idea if you spent a little more time with my kids beforehand, anyway.” Rennie nodded her agreement, and he added, “Shall we set two weeks from tomorrow as our target date? I’ll talk to the local justice of the peace about a civil ceremony. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.” Gideon cocked an eyebrow. “Is that okay with you?”
She didn’t answer right away, and it must have tipped him off to her true feelings.
“You’d prefer a church service, wouldn’t you?” he said slowly. Rennie didn’t say anything. “Look, I can talk to the minister at my church. Tom’s an old friend of mine. I think I can convince him to marry us even on such short notice.” He paused. “Is that...?”
“That’s fine.” Rennie smiled shyly, touched by his understanding. “Thank you. Even though ours is an arranged marriage, I’d be happier with a church wedding. I doubt I’d feel really married any other way.”
* * *
Gideon saw Rennie safely inside her motel room and left her there after arranging to pick her up at eight-thirty the next morning. She locked the door behind him and slipped on the safety chain, then sank onto the bed, drained of energy. The evening had been even more of a strain than she’d expected, and her bad hip ached a little from the tension in her muscles.
It was an effort to get her new boots off, but once she did she stretched out, dragging a corner of the bedspread over her body. At this elevation it got pretty cold at night even in the middle of summer, and it was only the beginning of May. To make matters worse, the heater in her motel room left much to be desired, as she’d learned last night.
The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, softening the stark simplicity. A squat dresser that bowed in the middle, a spindly chair, a rickety end table and the double bed on which she lay took up all the space in the tiny room. But Rennie scarcely noticed. She stared blankly at the wall, her thoughts elsewhere.
Was she really going to do this?
Things were moving faster than she’d realized they would. Part of her was afraid, but part of her, a big part, wanted to let events just take their course.
But could she get away with it?
That scene with Jim Holden tonight had shaken her. She hadn’t expected anyone in Wyoming to know her father, especially since he’d been dead for so long. It was a fluke, a coincidence. And even if anyone else recognized her last name and connected it with Frank Fortier as Jim had done, it wasn’t very likely that they’d know or remember that his daughter had been named Francesca, after him.
Of course, that bit about her birth certificate had taken her by surprise, too. She’d have to be careful not to let Gideon see it. Francesca was hardly a common name.
Rennie shivered and pulled the covers tighter around her. If Gideon knew who she was...
Don’t be silly, she told herself. There’s no way he can find out that Rennie Fortier was once Francesca Renee Fortier Whitney. If he hasn’t recognized me by now, he’s not going to. And as long as Gideon doesn’t see the name Francesca on my birth certificate, I’ll be all right. The press in Los Angeles knew me only by my adopted last name, so no one will make the connection between Francesca Whitney and Rennie Fortier.
But could she go through with it? Could she marry Gideon Lowell?
She liked him even more now than she had before, and that was saying a lot. She’d watched him with his children this evening, had seen the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at them, had seen the flash of pain he’d tried to hide when he hugged and kissed his daughters goodbye. And he’d looked so content earlier, so natural, with Andrew on his lap. He loved his children openly, honestly, and they obviously adored him. So it was easy to understand why he’d taken this drastic step to make their future a little more secure.
But was she strong enough to take that drastic step with him?
She yearned for reassurance, but knew there was no one who would understand. It was her decision to make. Hers alone. “I can do it,” she wh
ispered. “I know I can.” But she wished she sounded more convincing.
Her gaze fell on the phone beside the bed and she suddenly realized she hadn’t called Jess. He didn’t know where she was, and he was probably worried sick by now. And she had to tell him what she was planning. He’d go crazy, but she couldn’t not tell him. Before she could change her mind, she pushed herself into a sitting position, snatched up the receiver and dialed.
The phone rang twice before it was picked up, and the crisp, deep sound of her stepbrother’s voice filled her ear. “J. T. Whitney.”
“Jess, it’s Rennie.”
“Rennie, where the hell are you? I’ve been calling your apartment for the last three days, and I—”
She cut him off. “I’m in Wyoming.”
“Wyoming?” Why—” An answer came to him before she had a chance to say anything. “Rennie, you didn’t go out there because of what you found out last month, did you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, honey, why?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Jess, don’t say anything for a minute, please. I have something to tell you, and I know you’re going to be upset, but please don’t say anything yet. Okay?”
“What is it?”
“I’m getting married.” She heard a sharply indrawn breath on the other end of the line, and added, “To Gideon Lowell,” then waited for the explosion.
“Are you out of your mind? I turn my back for a moment and the next thing I know you’re marrying a stranger! And not just any stranger. Gideon Lowell, for God’s sake!”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do? That’s a mighty good trick, Rennie, since I don’t even know what I’m thinking. I didn’t even know you’d left L.A. How can I think anything when you spring this on me with absolutely no warning?”
“If you’d just calm down I can explain.”
