Love Lies

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “Can’t. It was a wire transfer.”

  She took a deep breath and both men could hear the forced calm in her voice. “I’m telling you for the last time, stay out of my life. You can be part of the baby’s, but not mine, not anymore.”

  “Sorry,” Victor said carelessly. “You and the baby are a package deal.”

  “Leave me be, Victor.”

  “Can’t.”

  She took another breath and forced the lie out. “If you don’t, I’ll get an abortion. Then you won’t have any claim on me at all.”

  He smiled at her, a cold grin that made her heart twist in her chest. “Nice try.”

  “Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to in order to be free of you. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it and consider myself lucky to be quit of you.”

  His eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice was very calm, almost pleasant. “No wonder I mistook you for Crystal that night.”

  “Aw, jeez, Victor,” Derik moaned.

  Ashley refused to show him how much he had just hurt her. The comparison with his ex-wife smashed the dwindling sympathy she felt for him. It was the only way she could do this last thing, play her trump card, be free. She opened her billfold and pulled out Dr. Opitz’s card, holding it up. Victor Rich-Boy had no idea what a superb poker face she had…wards of the state learned the skill early. “See?” she said sweetly. “Here’s my appointment. Whether or not I actually go and get it done is up to you, Vic.”

  His control broke. He started across the floor to her, slowed only when Derik flung himself in front of Ashley. “Staaaaawwwwwpp!”

  He stopped. Ashley peeked at him over Derik’s shoulder. She waved the card at him, but it was no good—he had himself under control. And in an absurd way, he was grateful to her. This would make a distasteful task much easier.

  Derik blew out his breath. “Okay, that’s enough of watching you two maul each other.”

  “So leave,” Victor said evenly.

  “Hey, it’s my dojo, okay? When I agreed to meet you for an early workout, I didn’t know you were planning on having me host the duel of the century. If you two want to act like prideful, stubborn jackasses, take it outside. Oh, forget it!” he yelled before either one of them could speak. “I’ll leave. Try to leave the place in one piece.”

  “Well,” Victor said when they were alone.

  “What now?” she asked abruptly.

  “Now I strangle you for threatening to do away with my unborn child,” he replied coldly.

  “I wouldn’t have had to do it if you weren’t such an overbearing, arrogant, control freak.”

  “Let’s stop this, all right? Derik’s right, it’s beyond ridiculous. Here’s the thing. You’re going to marry me.”

  She kicked the desk. Hard. “You hear, but you don’t listen! I don’t want you!”

  “That,” he said, eyes gleaming, “is a lie.”

  “You know what I mean,” she replied, flushing.

  “I do, and I don’t care. I did an awful thing, Ashley, but I love you and I think you love me. If neither of those things were true, maybe I could let this go, could let you out of my life. But they are true. How can I walk away from you? >From the baby? Remember when you told me your mom abandoned you?”

  She nodded, her gaze wary. He knew she was sorry she’d confided in him. It broke his heart a little, but he didn’t let it show on his face. “I told you then I’d never give you up without a fight. Did you think that was a lie?” He spoke with gentle intensity. “I meant it then, and I’m fighting for you now. Fighting you for you, and your bad memories of one horrible night.”

  She was already shaking her head. “It’s done, Victor, we can’t un-do it.

  “But we can move past it. Try to see some good in what happened.” Her eyes widened at that. “I’m very excited about the baby. I’ve already been through What to Expect When You’re Expecting twice.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, I’m building quite the pre-natal library. The baby isn’t the problem, don’t you see? The baby is the one good thing that came out of that night. It’s the action behind the conception that we have to work through.” Please listen, he prayed. Please give me a chance. Don’t make me do it. God, I don’t want to do it.

  “You make it sound so easy,” she said wistfully. “But we’re too different.”

  “It isn’t easy,” he admitted, “but I know we can get through this if you give me a chance. You say I can’t be trusted, but step outside yourself and look. In the last few weeks you’ve done nothing but run away, and you were determined to keep my child a secret, to raise him on your own with never a word to me. Then when I tried ease your financial burden, you threatened to get an abortion.” She flinched, but he was relentless. “Now who can’t be trusted?”

  “I only—I only did what I had to.”

  “I know.”

  “Go away, Victor. All you’ve got for me are words. That’s never going to change what happened. Leave me alone.” She forced hardness in her voice. “Leave me alone or you’ll regret it.”

  She waited for him to back down, to walk away. It would prove to be a long wait.

  God help me. Help me do this. “You’ve proven that you’ll stop at nothing to be away from me, even threatening the life of your child. Which is why you’re going to marry me.”

  “I don’t—”

  Her bluff was the key to this. He didn’t for a minute believe she’d really get an abortion, but she had to think he did believe. In a weird way, she had done him a favor. “I found out about your record,” he said, flipping the first domino in a chain.

  “My—what?” But her eyes were wide with fright; she knew.

  “Your juvenile record,” he explained patiently. “Good thing you were only fifteen, or you would have done some hard time.”

  “But the records were sealed. They—”

  “Sealed doesn’t mean destroyed.”

  “But I didn’t do anything!”

  “No?” His tone was politely curious, no more. She couldn’t bear it.

  “Listen. You must listen. The father at my last foster home was a little too interested in me, get it? So I ran away and fell in with some bad kids.”

  “Except they weren’t kids, weren’t they?”

  “No, they were all eighteen and over. But they took me in and didn’t bother me, try to have sex with me, you know? It was a place to go, it was people to talk to. I didn’t know what they were up to until they told me about the muggings, until they started showing me the jewelry and wallets they were taking. I left that night, but I didn’t tell anybody what they were up to. So they kept up the bad work.”

  “And one of their victims died.”

  She bowed her head. “Yes. Jenny Hildegaard, age thirty-seven, wife and mother. She fought hard, wouldn’t give up her wedding ring. And they killed her for it.”

  “And you got picked up with the rest.”

  “They told the cops that I knew about it from the beginning, which was a lie. And they said I didn’t do anything about it, which was the truth. Victor, I was fifteen! All I could think about was getting away from them. I thought that would be enough.”

  “So they nailed you as an accessory.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t do any time.”

  “No. Probation. The judge was sorry for me. And she promised to seal the records when I grew up.”

  He wished he could take her in his arms, tell her it was all right, that she had been a child, that she had done the best she could. That she wasn’t responsible for Mrs. Hildegaard’s death, those rotten punks were. But he couldn’t do any of those things. He had to hurt her, and dreaded it as he had never dreaded anything.

  “Well. That’s nice. An accomplice to murder, raising my baby.”

  She didn’t defend herself. Just looked stricken.

  “Here’s the thing, Ashley. You’re going to be my wife, or I’ll go see a judge and explain my extreme concern re
garding my unborn child’s welfare. You’ve got a record, and you still show poor judgment in choosing your friends—as I’m sure Dr. Langenfeld at Carlson-Musch will testify. He’ll also testify that you are a constant, disruptive influence on his patients. As much as you don’t like him, he’s a prestigious psychiatrist and he owes me some favors—five hundred thousand of them, as a matter of fact. And judges don’t like working mothers, if you haven’t been watching the news. They hate moms who put their kids in daycare fifty hours a week. I’ll probably have full custody by the time the baby’s born. Even if I don’t, I’ve got the money to drag this out for years and years. You’ll be bankrupt in no time, just paying lawyer fees.”

  “You—you said whatever my…my secret was, that it didn’t matter.”

  He forced a shrug. “I changed my mind.”

  “This is how you treat someone you profess to love?” she whispered.

  “You’re not giving me any choice,” he told her honestly. “What’s it going to be, Ashley?”

  “Surprise, Victor.” A little bit of fire now, which was much better than her whipped-hound impersonation. He almost smiled in relief. “The answer is still no.”

  “Bad judgment, Ash. That’s pride talking. If you marry me, the baby will have the best of everything, always. If you don’t marry me, not only will you be wasting the first few years of his life in court battles with me, when you’re not working sixty hours a week at the paper to pay your lawyers, once I win—and I will win—you won’t be able to see him at all except at my convenience. Assuming the judge lets you have any custody visits at all. They’ll probably be supervised visits at first.” She was gripping the desk, her face ashen, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t put his arms around her, take it all back, agree with her wishes, promise never to see her or the baby again if only she stopped looking so betrayed and horrified. “Further proof I’m right to be doing this, Ash—you’re not making this decision in the baby’s best interests. You’re refusing me so you can save face, and for what?”

  “What kind of a marriage would this be?” she said in a shocked whisper. “You would have blackmailed me into it.”

  “You left me no choice. I can be a good husband and a good father, but you’ve got to let me prove it. And you won’t. So here we are. I’m sorry.”

  The hell of it was, she heard the honest regret in his voice. He probably thought he was doing the right thing, the bullying goob. His words roared through her head and she gripped the edge of the desk, willing herself not to faint in front of him…again. She looked for a way out of the box he had so cruelly led her into, and could see nothing.

  Victor watched her struggle with the decision. She looked ghastly, but if she started to go down he could catch her before she hit the floor. He hated having to do this, but he hadn’t lied about one thing; he truly believed she’d left him no choice. Ironically, while he never believed Ashley’s bluff, he could see she didn’t doubt his. It never occurred to her to call him on it, which was good for him, but it saddened him, too. She really believed he was capable of committing such monstrous injustices against her. She never doubted it for a second. This proved as nothing else did how much their relationship had changed.

  “All right.”

  Her voice was so low he barely heard her. “What?”

  “I said all right. I’ll marry you.”

  Any triumph he might have felt vanished as Ashley slowly sank to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and wept as if she had just sold her soul. He watched her, horrified, and took a step toward her. Without raising her face, she screamed at him to get out, to go away, just leave her be and go away, so he slowly turned and walked out.

  He couldn’t comfort her this time; he was the cause of her pain. Nor could he stand to watch. So he left, and by the time he got to his car he was shaking all over. He made his vow then and there: never once, never once, was Ashley going to regret marrying him. He would treat her like a queen, she would want for nothing, ever. Someday she would tell him she was glad she had married him. Might even tell him she loved him. Then he would explain how it had all been a lie, a cruel trick to get her to give him another chance. He would apologize as fervently as he knew how, and promise to never, ever do such a thing again.

  With this thought in mind, he started the car and drove to the town clerk’s office to begin paperwork for the marriage license.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They were married three days later, in secret. Ashley was afraid if Jean attended, her friend would see that she was a most reluctant participant in the wedding and do something Jean-like. This could be anything from trying to have the groom arrested, to calling the minister a Cossack and throwing a naked Barbie doll at him. For his part, Victor was embarrassed that he had blackmailed his bride-to-be, and just wanted to get the whole thing over with so they could get on with the business of being married. Thus, a justice of the peace married them, and they pulled two strangers off the street to witness it.

  Victor handed her a plain gold band, then slipped his own band on his finger. “Was this Crystal’s?” she asked, but he didn’t rise to the bait; just shook his head. He’d bought the rings the day before yesterday.

  When the judge announced he could kiss the bride, the only sound was Ashley’s firm, “Do not touch me.” As a vow of undying devotion and newlywed fervor, it left a lot to be desired. Victor sighed but said nothing, thinking, Well, you deserve it.

  They walked to the car in silence, which was finally broken by Ashley’s sarcastic, “Dum-dum-da-dum…dum-dum-da-dum…that’s what we were missing. An organist. And, of course, my desire to actually be married!”

  “Sorry,” he said, for about the thousandth time. “Thanks for not spitting on me during the vows.”

  She snorted, then forced her face in a frown and asked, “Where will we live?” Not the condo. Please don’t let him have taken the condo off the market.

  “Wherever you like.”

  “Really?”

  He turned, surprised. “Sure. Do you want a house?”

  “That would be…” Too good to be true. “…nice.”

  “So. Pick one you like and we’ll go live there.”

  She chuckled, and he smiled in response. “I don’t think it’s quite as easy as that.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  She fell silent. True, his money had certainly let him put the screws to her, and with cool efficiency. If he’d been some poor schmuck without a job, would he have been able to dig up her past? Unlikely.

  “What about Jean?”

  “Oh, the apartment. If she wants to live there alone, we’ll pay your share of the rent each month. What is it, about a thousand?”

  “Two hundred.”

  “Ah-ha.”

  “She’s not very subtle, sometimes.”

  “So I’ve noticed. Anyway, we’ll pay your share as long as she wants to live there, and if she doesn’t, I’ll reimburse her for the security deposit and first month’s rent.”

  “You’ll have to do that. She hates to live alone. I wish—”

  “What, honey?”

  Honey. Ha! Blackmailing creep. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie. What is it?”

  “I was wishing she could live with us.”

  “Oh.” He thought it over for all of three seconds. Here was a golden opportunity to start making up for the past. But it was a heavy penalty to pay, and so soon, too. He mentally sighed and committed himself. “Why can’t she?”

  “You mean you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Why would I?” he lied. Living with Jeannie ought to put thirty or forty gray hairs on his head in no time. “We’ll get a big enough place so we’re not in each other’s way. She can stay with us as long as you want.”

  “Really?” She sounded stunned.

  “Sure.”

  “Oh.” She started to thank him, then changed her mind. She shot him another look of disbelief.

  “Did you think,” he a
sked quietly, “once I’d gotten you to marry me, I wouldn’t want you to be happy?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she replied. “About any of this. I keep expecting to wake up. And where are we going to sleep tonight?”

  “Marriott Longwharf,” he replied casually, and saw her tighten up just a bit. Well, this was a hurdle he’d have to jump sooner or later.

  “Separate rooms?” she squeaked.

  “One room, Ashley, and one bed.”

  She stopped short, right there on the sidewalk. “Oh, no. Victor. I can’t.”

  He took her hand and gently pulled her forward, so she started walking with him. “You will,” he told her quietly, and she jerked her hand out of his grasp.

  “I said I can’t! How can you expect me to, after—after—”

  “It will be all right,” he told her, still quiet, still trying to soothe her without touching her.

  “No, it won’t,” she said, trembling.

  The rest of the day she was pale and drawn, barely speaking to him except to answer a direct question. He tried to coax her to eat, and only reminding her of the child she carried had any inducement at all.

  “I’m just not hungry,” she said, picking at her food. “And if you keep bugging me to eat, I’ll throw up.”

  They were eating supper in the Longwharf restaurant, having already checked in. Tomorrow they would go house-hunting. That was the only thought getting her through the day. Living in a house, her own home was a dream she’d had since she was old enough to dream. And Jean could live with them! She still couldn’t believe Victor had gone along with that. He must be feeling tremendously guilty. Good!

  “Have you been having a lot of morning sickness?” he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

  “Only when I’m with you,” she said brightly. Then, at his sober expression, she added, “Actually, every day, almost. But it goes away when I eat. Usually.”

  “When will you see the doctor again?”

  “Next week.” No reason not to see Dr. Opitz now; the thing she had feared most had happened. “I found a really nice lady to be my OB. And you’ll never guess where her office is,” she added sarcastically.