by Mary Davis
“No, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I understand, dear. If you don’t feel up to eating, don’t worry about it. It’s only natural.”
It’s only natural? No, not this pregnant thing again.
Meghann picked up her fork and swallowed hard before taking the bite it held. She was going to eat every last leaf of this taunting salad, even if it killed her. Her tense stomach lurched in protest with the first bite. She swallowed carefully, forcing herself on to the next bite.
She already swallowed her pride, choked on her lies, and stuffed herself with humiliation. In light of all that, eating one stupid salad should be a snap.
Nineteen
A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER, MEGHANN FOUND HERSELF ALONE in the afternoon. Everyone was out doing one thing or another.
Finally, blessed, peaceful solitude.
She reclined in one of the soft leather chairs in the living room and propped her feet up on the ottoman to enjoy the quiet, filling her lungs with the stillness. A calm in the midst of the storm.
A certain pair of warm brown eyes came to mind, like soft melted chocolate…she had a sudden hankering for a Snickers bar. Bruce had a stash of little ones in his dry bar with an assortment of other junk food. If she recalled right, they were just behind the pop under the potato chips. She appreciated his penchant for junk food. He always had plenty on hand.
Bruce had undergone a transformation since his family arrived. The easygoing this-is-a-game-let’s-have-fun Bruce had slipped away. In his place, a more serious Bruce who only smiled occasionally emerged…an echo of the staunch and stoic never-let-them-see-you-smile Ivan Halloway.
Jumping off the couch, she trotted over and opened the cabinet doors. She scanned the interior and noticed things had been moved around. Bottled water, pop, Doritos, Fritos, wine, and there they were, the Snickers, right next to the Scotch.
Meghann’s hand froze in place. Scotch? Moving her hand slowly from the Scotch to the red wine, she noticed more: vodka, bourbon, and white wine. There must have been eight to ten bottles of assorted alcohol. When she heard the front door open, she quickly closed the cabinet doors with a double kathud and shot to her feet.
Bruce walked in and greeted her with a warm smile. Looking around at the empty apartment, he grinned at her. “How did you manage time to yourself?”
“Our mothers went off on some secret mission. I think they are up to something. I don’t know where your dad and Brock went.” She twisted her ring around and around on her finger. “I made calls from here, and everything’s going smoothly for the ball.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, I feel fine,” she said and nervously eyed the dry bar. She felt like a naughty child caught red-handed.
“You look pale.” He came up to her with a concerned expression.
This was ridiculous; she had done nothing wrong. She certainly hadn’t bought all that liquor. Besides, this was his apartment. He could have a hundred bottles of alcohol if he wanted to. “I’m fine, really,” she said, waving away his concern.
He suspiciously eyed the dry bar. Meghann scooted away when he moved to open it. Letting out a heavy sigh, he shook his head and pulled out bottle after bottle of alcohol, placing them on top next to the clean overturned glasses. Gathering up as many bottles in his arms as he could, he asked her if she could get the rest and headed for the kitchen.
Meghann collected the last three and followed him, wondering what he planned to do with ten bottles of miscellaneous brew all at once. She set hers on the counter by the sink next to the other ones.
How was he going to explain all this alcohol to her? He’d made a point of not having strong drink at the hotel Christmas party. Most everyone at the hotel knew he wasn’t a drinking man, but would Meghann think he was a different man in private than he was in public? The condemning evidence was in front of him…and her.
She looked so stricken at having found what she thought was his stash of liquor. Another strike against him.
“There is a corkscrew in that drawer next to you,” he said as he opened the bottle of vodka.
She dug in the drawer and handed him the twisted utensil. “I know you won’t believe this, but these are not mine.” The ease with which he used the device to open the bottles bothered him. It was like riding a bike, you never forget. Both the red and white wine were opened swiftly. How would she believe his innocence now?
She reluctantly took the bottle of red wine he handed her as he took the white.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his bottle with hers, then began dumping it down the drain.
Meghann blinked and looked up at him questioningly.
“Bottoms up,” he said with the raise of his eyebrows but couldn’t blame her for being confused.
She slowly tipped the bottle over. The red liquid gurgled out and down the hole in the bottom of the stainless steel sink.
The alcohol was his father’s subtle way of luring his son back to his old habits; party after party was his way of life back then. Well, he wasn’t taking the bait—not now, not ever.
Father God, give me the strength to once again resist this temptation. In my own strength I will fail.
He poured with determination.
How can I make him see the changes in me are good? I don’t know how to reach him.
Once Bruce emptied his bottle, he picked up another and poured it out. “My father bought all this. He does this every time they visit.”
“But why dump it out? I’m sure this cost a lot of money.”
“My father spared no expense, I assure you that. Only the best.”
“You could return it.”
“I don’t want the money from it.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t have it around. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it is still a temptation for me. Dumping it out gives me strength.”
The first time his father stocked his bar Bruce had thought it wouldn’t hurt to have it around for visitors. Surely he could stay away from it. Hadn’t he seen how damaging it was for him? Some people might be able to handle liquor, but he wasn’t one of them. He knew it and accepted it.
At least, he thought he did. Until he woke up the next morning with a headache and a boatload of regret. That was one hangover he vividly remembered; the others had been dulled by more alcohol.
The next time he found his father’s “gifts,” he took the bottles straight to the sink with shaking hands and prayed the whole time for God’s strength to dump it all before he drank it. When the deed was done, he was wet with perspiration and shaking so badly he could hardly stand. Each time it got easier. Now, it was more a statement to his father that he wouldn’t have it around even for him.
He looked directly at her. “My father has to know the changes in my life are permanent.” He had to make sure she knew it, too.
If only he could be sure he had the time to show her. But with each passing day, the dread that plagued him grew stronger. He couldn’t explain it, but he was fairly sure time was running out.
Twenty
BRUCE WATCHED AS BROCK, THEIR MOTHER, AND MEG’S mother occupied Meghann with merry chatter. Even his father was vying for a small piece of her attention.
Jealousy shot through him. He knew it was irrational, but he wanted Meg to himself. Wanted her to desire his company more than any other.
With a sigh, he studied his family and Meg again. Clearly, he was not likely to get any time with her. Not unless he remedied this situation.
Just then Brock reached over and touched Meghann’s arm as he whispered in her ear. She turned and gifted him with a smile.
That’s it!
Bruce strode over and took Meghann by the hand. She stood without hesitation, a fact that warmed his heart.
His mother, however, wasn’t so compliant. “Bruce, what are you doing?”
“I’m commandeering my wife.”
“You can’t. We’re having a nice talk with her, and I’m not finished
. I’ve barely gotten to know my daughter-in-law.”
“Bruce, I—” Meghann began.
Bruce didn’t let her finish. Instead, he swept her up in his arms and headed for the door. “We’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“Put me down!” Meghann’s whispered command didn’t bother him much, accompanied as it was by a broad smile. He held fast to her.
“Surely you’re not leaving with her?” His mother’s irritation was as evident as Meg’s pleasure.
“Olivia! Leave the boy alone,” he heard his father say in a stern voice.
“At least tell us where you are going,” his mother said.
“Meg’s place,” Gayle said with a smile, and Bruce almost burst out laughing. Leave it to Meg’s mom to suddenly seem pleased that they had two places.
Bruce shook his head. “Nope. I’m taking my bride to a place where we won’t be found.” He pinned Brock with a glare. “By anyone.”
“I need to at least get my purse, so you can set me down,” Meghann said.
He didn’t budge. “Where is it?”
“On the table behind the couch.”
He moved in that direction.
“Aren’t you going to put me down?”
“No.” He leaned over enough for her to grab her purse. He wasn’t about to let her go and risk losing her to this crowd.
“What if we need to get in touch with you?”
“You’ll just have to deal with whatever crisis comes up yourselves, Mother,” he said over his shoulder. “Would you get the door, my dear?” He grinned at Meghann, bending far enough for her to reach the knob.
Her answering smile convinced him he’d done the right thing, and he walked out without any effort to close the door behind him. At the elevator he had her press the button with the toe of her shoe.
“You can set me down now.” She attempted to lift her legs free.
“Not yet.”
He stepped inside the elevator and waited for the doors to close before freeing her legs. As her feet touched down, their eyes locked. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull her into his arms and kiss her deeply, but instead he slowly released the hold his other arm still had on her.
Meghann started giggling. He loved to hear her laugh and feasted on the sound. His mouth, too, turned upward. She laughed all the way to his ‘Vette.
“I don’t think your mother can believe you did that,” she said when she caught her breath.
His smile broadened and he chuckled. His mother’s anger wouldn’t last long. In fact, she’d probably be bragging on her forceful, obviously-in-love son to her community charity compatriots within the week. “I can’t believe I did it, either. It was sort of a spur of the moment inspiration.” He wasn’t normally an impulsive person. Plan things out thoroughly to avoid potential failure; that was his motto. But he had never felt as possessive about a woman as he did about her. “I got tired of the crowd and figured you might be, too.”
Her expression was grateful. “Yes, I was. I don’t know how much more I could take. Thank you for rescuing me.”
He glanced over at her after pulling into traffic. “My pleasure.”
She leaned her head back and sighed heavily. “So where are you taking me?”
“How does dinner sound?”
“Isn’t it a little early?”
“Not by the time we get there,” he said wryly with the raise of his brows.
They headed north and an hour later arrived at Havana Street Station.
“Two?” the hostess asked and showed them to a table in the middle of the dimly lit restaurant. It was still early and the place was nearly vacant. Only one table was occupied with four little old ladies. Soft music wafted through the air, just enough to set a relaxing mood but not overpowering to distraction. Plants tucked in here and there gave the place a warm, earthy feel.
“Could we possibly get that table over there?” Bruce pointed to a cozy corner booth out of the line of traffic.
“Sure,” the hostess said and seated them in the requested spot, leaving them with a pair of menus. Latticework between theirs and the adjoining booths gave it an air of privacy.
A few minutes later, a tall, lanky young waiter with sandy blond hair appeared next to the table. He took their drink orders—raspberry lemonade for Meg, iced tea for Bruce—and nodded. “I’ll bring those right out.”
They settled into their chairs, taking their time perusing the menu. Bruce felt himself finally starting to relax in the peaceful quiet between them. “How about we get a couple of appetizers for now and order our meals later?”
Meghann agreed readily, so Bruce ordered the appetizers a moment later when Scott returned with their drinks.
This, he thought as he watched the waiter retreat, is what he had wanted at Christmas. Just the two of them together, over dinner. Regret, sharp and painful, stabbed through him. If only he’d made sure it had happened. If only they’d been able to start back then, building a relationship. But now they had this deception between them. Though it brought them together, it also kept them apart.
Meghann’s nose wrinkled slightly and she tilted her head, studying him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He raised his brows. “Like what?”
She pondered the question. “Like you’ve got something on your mind.”
I do. You. Every minute of every day. He laid his napkin in his lap. “I was wondering why you moved so far away from your mother when it’s only the two of you.”
“Oh, I guess I needed to spread my wings. I love my mom dearly, but sometimes she can be a bit much. I needed some room to figure out who I was.” She took a sip of her lemonade.
“So how did you end up here?”
“A friend had an uncle down here with a family camp ranch, so we came down to work for him for the summer.”
“Is your friend still working for her uncle?”
“No.” She twisted her glass around by its base. “It turned out she was allergic to horses, so she got a job in town, but I stayed at the ranch. When the summer was over, she went back home. I fell in love with it here, got another job, and started college.”
“Your job at the hotel?”
“I wish.” She abandoned spinning her beverage. “I worked many assorted jobs before I landed that one.”
He watched her draw lines on her glass in the condensation. Was she nervous? Did she think he was prying? He only wanted to get to know her better, to know everything about her. “You must like it there.”
Her head came up then. “I love that old hotel. It has so much charm and character. Like many of the employees, I was a little afraid of losing my job when the hotel changed owners. That was just before you were hired. There were so many rumors about staff cuts and the hotel possibly closing. But apparently the only one who lost his job was the manager. Some say he quit, others say he was fired.”
“He resigned. There were irreconcilable differences between him and the new owner.”
Interest sparked in her eyes at that. She leaned forward, a small smile on her lips. “You wouldn’t mind divulging a little information on him would you? Or is it a her? Them?”
Oops, wrong subject. “I’d love to tell you everything I know, Meg, but I can’t. I’m not at liberty to discuss it. The owner prefers to remain in the background for now.”
She pouted for a moment, then sat back with an understanding smile. “Well, he or she must have a passion for the place, restoring it and all.” Excitement danced in her hazel eyes. “I like to think of her as a sweet little old lady.”
“Old?” He smiled at the idea.
She nodded, clearly entranced with her fantasy. “She spent her honeymoon at the Palace Hotel as a young woman desperately in love with her new husband. They had a long and wonderful marriage, and when she lost him, she decided she would do something to honor all they’d shared. So she’s restoring the first place they were together to its grand old style.” She sighed. “Her name would be Maud or Betsy
or Cora Bennet.” Yes, Cora Bennet. She liked the sound of it even if it was fabricated from her imagination.
Quite a little romantic, his pretend wife. He loved listening to her, seeing her like this. Reaching out, he covered her hand with his. “Will you be terribly disappointed if you’re wrong?”
She looked up from their hands but didn’t move away. “A little. It’s such a wonderful story. But when it comes down to it, I’ll like anyone who would go to the trouble to restore my grand old hotel.”
He arched his brows at that. “Your hotel?”
The sweetest pink tinged her cheeks, and she laughed at herself. “In my heart, my dreams. I love that place.” Her eyes shone. “I can hardly wait to see what it looks like when it’s back to its original glory.”
Bruce smiled, his eyes fixed on her glowing face, convinced that even the majestic old hotel in all its original beauty couldn’t hold a candle to the glory he was looking at right that moment.
More than three hours later, after lingering over dinner and dessert, they headed back to Bruce’s apartment.
“I can’t believe we were at the restaurant for that long,” Meghann said, but she wasn’t the least bit sorry they’d taken so much time. It had been wonderful. “It went so fast. I feel bad we took up a booth for so long. Waiters and waitresses practically live on their tips. They depend on them. I know, that was one of my jobs in college.”
“I don’t think Scott, our waiter, minded. I left a very generous tip to more than cover any tip he may have missed out on.” Bruce grinned. “Besides, he was quite taken with you.”
“Taken with me?”
“He gave us far more attention than was necessary. Had I been there with a business associate, I wouldn’t have seen him nearly half as much. Didn’t you notice him flirting with you?”
She frowned, thinking back. The young man was very nice and always smiled at her. And her lemonade was never quite gone before he brought her another.…he angled a look at Bruce. “Am I to assume it doesn’t bother my supposed husband that another man was flirting with me?”
