Coming Up Roses

by Catherine Anderson

  "There's a bit more to it than that."

  "We're talking about a wedding ring, not a ball and chain."

  "We're talking about more than a ring!" she cried.

  It was his turn to throw up his hands. "What, aside from accommodating me in the bedroom? You sure as hell wouldn't have as much work to do. And you wouldn't have to filch away every miserable penny you got your hands on, trying to clothe your daughter. Or walk around in the dark at night, afraid to waste lantern fuel. Just what are we talking about, Kate?"

  She could only stare at him.

  He stepped closer, his hands once again riding his hips. "Let's get a clear understanding here. If I adopt your daughter, and then I turn out to be the bastard you're afraid I might be, your independence will be shot all to hell, anyway." He leaned toward her. "With Miranda's happiness at stake, if I said jump, you'd ask how high. There'd be no end to the leverage I'd have over you. So what the hell difference does it make, married or not?"

  She pressed her fingertips against her temples. "None, I guess." She fastened frightened eyes on his. "What about you? Doesn't it bother you, knowing how I feel?"

  He shifted his weight to one foot and bent a knee. After gazing at her for several seconds, he said, "I aim to change that. If I didn't think I could make you happy, that'd bother me. But I think I can if you'll give me the chance."

  Kate couldn't believe she was about to ask this. "Wh-Where would we live? At your place?"

  He glanced over his shoulder. "Not with Joseph planted in your front yard. We'd have to stay here to keep Ryan out of here." He pursed his lips, then exhaled a breath through his clenched teeth. After a long moment, he said,

  "I thought about moving the evidence. My first instinct was to bury him out in the woods somewhere." He paused to gaze thoughtfully across the valley. "The way folks are settling here though, it would have been just my luck to choose a spot that some farmer plans to clear soon. If somebody started digging a well or uprooting trees near where I buried him, they might—" He broke off and swallowed. "Next I considered taking him to my place. Then I thought better of it, for two reasons. One being that the rose garden will be the last place Ryan will look, the other being that I'd be implicated as an accomplice if the body was ever found."

  "I wouldn't expect you to take that risk."

  "It wasn't my risk that concerned me but Mandy's. If suspicion was thrown on me, we could both end up in jail, and there she'd be with no one to take care of her again. It's better to leave things alone and hope we can keep Ryan away."

  "And what if—" She wrung her hands. "What if we can't? What if he finds Joseph and turns me in?"

  "Then you go to jail, and Mandy and I wait for you to come home. They aren't going to put you in prison or hang you, Kate. It's not as if you deliberately killed the man."

  "I thought about it enough times."

  "You can't think a man to death. No jury on earth will convict you."

  She closed her eyes. "I murdered him in my thoughts a thousand times. According to the Bible, that's as bad as doing it."

  "Bullshit."

  "It says it, right in—"

  "I don't care what it says. You can't take everything so literally. Three-quarters of the world's population should hang if that's the case. Practically everyone has a violent thought now and again. And you had more cause than most."

  She curled her hands into fists. "I didn't have a choice when I married Joseph."

  "I guessed as much. You're too intelligent a woman to have made such a rotten choice in a husband."

  His admission surprised Kate. It had been years since a man have given her credit for having any brains. "With all the best of intentions, my uncle made the nuptial arrangements shortly before he died. I swore I'd never be coerced into marriage again."

  He rubbed his jaw. "I'm trying my damnedest to feel guilty about that."

  She stared down at him, wondering what that was supposed to mean. Then he looked into her eyes, his warm with a mixture of amusement and tenderness.

  "But the truth is I'll take you any way I can get you. And it's hard to feel guilty about that when I know it's probably what's best for you."

  Best for her… How many times had Joseph said the same? Kate had hoped to spend the remainder of her days deciding for herself what might be best.

  "Is it the physical aspect of marriage?" he asked softly. "Was Joseph—" He broke off and tipped back his head to gaze at the roof. "I know he was a mean so-and-so. Was he ornery in the bedroom, too?"

  Ornery? A picture flashed in Kate's head of darkness and the panting sound of Joseph's breath. Hoping Zachariah wouldn't notice how tense his question made her, she shoved the memories away and knotted her hands into fists.

  If he started to suspect just how ornery Joseph had sometimes been, he might demand she give him particulars.

  Kate couldn't do that, couldn't even contemplate it. There were some things so horrible that one dared not expose them, dared not even think of them.

  Reluctant to lie, she temporized, struggling to keep her voice even. "No, as a rule, he wasn't ornery. Not in the bedroom, anyway." That was the truth, as far as it went. Kate avoided meeting Zachariah's gaze, afraid he might see the unspoken truth in her eyes. "The physical aspect is only part of the reason I feel as I do."

  Zachariah looked relieved. "Well, then." He flashed her a slow grin that made her skin tingle. "At least he did something right. I have to admit that was my biggest worry, that maybe things hadn't been—" He broke off and shrugged his shoulders to rearrange his jacket. Running his finger under his collar, he glanced at the rising sun.

  "If this weather doesn't beat all. It's getting damned hot out here."

  "It's July."

  He studied the sun a moment longer, his eyes in a squint to block out the light. "Yeah, July. Now I suppose it'll get hot enough to fry eggs, and we'll all wish for rain."

  Kate felt like screaming. How could he switch to talking about the weather at a time like this? Her whole life was being decided here. Her thoughts drifted to Miranda, asleep upstairs. Kate imagined the joy on her face when she heard the news. At least her child would be happy. Pray God. There was always the chance that Zachariah McGovern might show a totally different side once he had his fish hooked.

  "Wh-When will we do it?" she asked in a tinny voice.

  Still rubbing his jaw, he seemed to freeze at the question. After a pregnant moment, he said, "When it feels right, I guess. Do we have to decide that right now?"

  Kate lifted her chin and stiffened her shoulders. "If I have to do it, I want to get it over with."

  He just stood there, holding his jaw and gaping at her.

  She was beginning to feel annoyed. Two minutes ago, he couldn't seem to wait. "Who'll we get as witnesses?"

  "Witnesses?" An odd expression crept into his eyes, and then he started to clear his throat and nearly choked on a smothered laugh. "Witnesses." He rearranged his expression to one of solemnity, apparently with great effort.

  "Of course, witnesses. I don't know where my head went." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How about Marcus and Ching Lee? I can round them up and have them ready by noon ."

  " Noon today?" she asked.

  He swept off his jacket and swiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Like you said, we may as well do it. I'm not going to feel easy until those adoption papers are signed."

  Kate tried to take a deep breath but her lungs didn't want to expand. Men. She'd never understand them. One minute, any old time suited him just fine, and now he wanted to set out at noon ? She hated that. Feeling like a ball being bounced about at someone else's whim. "I can be ready."

  Hooking his jacket on one finger, he slung it over his shoulder. "Do you want me here with you to tell Miranda?"

  Kate couldn't feel her feet. "No. I think it'd be best if I do that alone."

  Apparently reluctant to leave, he planted a boot on her bottom step. "I k
now you're not happy about this."

  That was an understatement.

  He looked up to eye her eave again. "That roof needs fixing."

  The weather, and now the roof? Kate bit down on a wave of irritation. "Yes. Much more rain like we've just had and it'll leak like a sieve, I imagine."

  He thumped his heel on the step. "This porch is in sorry shape, too."

  "Yes."

  His gaze sought hers. "So is your life, Katie."

  There was no answer to that.

  "I'm handy at fixing things," he said huskily. With that, he turned away.

  Chapter 16

  For Kate, the remainder of that day sped by on winged feet, the hours and events a blur. Going into Roseburg , visiting the judge, the brief wedding ceremony, signing her name to documents, one forever binding her to Zachariah McGovern, the other giving him parental rights to her daughter.

  At least there wasn't time to think, and for that, Kate was grateful. Her life loomed ahead of her, once again uncertain, once again controlled by someone else.

  As she had expected, Miranda reacted positively to the situation. She was so excited at the prospect of attending the wedding and being adopted that she wasn't even shy around Ching Lee and Marcus on the way into town, which was remarkable. The child seemed to see Zachariah as her bulwark, someone who would protect her from all that she had once feared.

  Mr. Zach was going to be her pa! All day long, she kept repeating that, driving Kate half-mad until Zach brought a stop to it by informing the child there was no longer any "will be" to it; he was her pa.

  As much as it grated on her nerves, Kate had felt more comfortable with "will be." But as the afternoon gave way to evening and she found herself alone in the house with her child and new husband, the reality of her changed circumstances began to sink home. She was Mrs. Zachariah McGovern, no two ways about it. The plain gold band that he had picked up at the jeweler's and slipped onto her finger was a constant reminder of that. The indentation that had been worn into her flesh by Joseph's ring hadn't completely faded yet, and now she wore another.

  A circle of gold, the symbol of eternity.

  She decided not to dwell on the distasteful. If she pretended hard enough, maybe things wouldn't seem too different. After nursing the man for nearly a month, she was accustomed to having Zachariah in the house. Now he was back. Not much had actually changed.

  Except, of course, that he was now at large in her house, a broad-shouldered, looming presence with speculative hazel eyes she couldn't escape. He joined them for supper at the table. And then he remained while she did dishes, reading aloud to her and Miranda from a recent issue of the Portland Morning Oregonian. Kate enjoyed that and suspected he knew it.

  She tried to ignore the gleam of anticipation in his eyes when he glanced over the top of the newspaper at her. He was making her feel unaccountably nervous. He had fired up two lanterns, which struck Kate as wasteful. The evening shadows in the house had been frustrating at times but restful. With the kitchen lit up as bright as day, she knew he could tell every time she blushed—which was often.

  Men. She guessed what he was anticipating. The hour was growing late, and whether she wanted to think about it or not, it was their wedding night. Not that she could see what the big deal was. It wasn't as if she intended to incite his anger in any way, and as long as she took care not to, all should go smoothly. A perfunctory joining in the darkness, a few panting breaths, and it would be over.

  Maybe men enjoyed it. Joseph hadn't pestered her but once every few months, but she distinctly recalled a few times when he had given what had sounded like a satisfied grunt after he finished.

  As she dried the last plate, she turned to regard Miranda, who was perched on Zachariah's knee and perusing the paper, for all the world as if she could read every word. "It's about that time, little miss."

  Zachariah's gaze flew to hers. Kate swallowed, feeling unsettled. She wished he'd get that twinkle out of his eyes.

  He made her feel like a dish of dessert. She put the plate away on the shelf and dried her hands before hanging up the towel.

  "I don't wanna go to bed!" Miranda complained. "It's a special day. Can't we stay up late?"

  Zachariah gave her a playful swat. "Off to bed you go. Your ma's tuckered, and so am I. Special day or no, the sun won't come up late in the morning."

  Miranda pulled a long face but slid obediently off his lap. Kate took her hand and cast a meaningful glance at her husband. "I think I'll turn in myself. Can you douse the lamps before you come up?"

  "Sure." His gaze traveled the length of her, a slow appraisal that made her nerves leap. "I think I'll read a while longer first. That'll give you some time to yourself."

  Though he didn't say it in so many words, Kate knew he meant for her to be ready for him when he finally joined her. She hoped he didn't linger down here overlong. After not getting any rest last night, she truly was tuckered.

  If she had to perform her wifely duty tonight, her one wish was to get it over with quickly so she could go to sleep.

  Nosy scrambled to his feet to follow Miranda from the kitchen. Once upstairs, he settled on the rug as though he intended to remain there for the night. Kate wasn't fooled. She gave Miranda a quick scrub at the washstand, then helped her into her nightgown.

  "Do I git a story?"

  Kate sighed. Her mind wasn't on stories tonight, but she supposed she could come up with something. After tucking the child into the bed, she perched on the edge and searched her mind for a tale to tell.

  "I wanna hear one about a little girl who made a magic wish for a new pa," Miranda requested happily.

  Kate stifled a groan. But she dutifully began, spinning a tale that sounded uncomfortably autobiographical. As she wound down to a finish, Miranda smiled with contentment and closed her eyes, her expression dreamy. A happy ending, Kate thought. Only it wasn't the ending for the little girl's ma.

  Trying not to think of what lay in wait for her, Kate rose from the bed and turned down the lamp. Images encroached, and she shoved them away, refusing to let herself become nervous. A quick, impersonal joining, that was all it would be. If she closed her eyes, it would be no different than when Joseph had come to her.

  Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her skirt, Kate said, "Good night, Miranda."

  "G'night, Ma."

  Turning to leave the room, Kate took a deep, bracing breath. She would simply go to her room, don her nightgown, and wait for Zachariah at the dresser, just as she had a dozen other times in her last marriage. He would come upstairs, finish his business, and go to bed. She doubted they'd even speak. There was nothing to be afraid of, certainly, and no reason to feel embarrassed. She wouldn't think about that knowing twinkle in his eyes.

  * * *

  Zach set a boot on the stair, wincing when it creaked beneath his weight. It'd be his luck Miranda would wake up.

  As much as he loved the little imp, he had one destination in mind tonight and didn't relish the thought of making any side trips into the child's bedroom.

  Kate was waiting. At the thought, Zach's pulse quickened, his body sprang taut, his breathing became ragged, and his throat constricted. If this kept up, he'd be winded before he got out of the gate. She deserved better than that.

  Once upstairs, he paused outside her door. He knew it was her door because Miranda's room was down the hall and he could see light coming out from around this one's cracks. Kate was in there, waiting for him.

  He envisioned her nude body. Then he backtracked, deciding Kate wasn't that sort. A modest gown would be more to her taste. White muslin, probably. Sleeveless, with a scooped neck and those little pink bows that women liked all down the front. Anticipation filled him, and he felt his hands start to shake.

  Whoa, boy.

  She was a lady, for God's sake, from the tips of her toes all the way up. If he went in like a bee after honey, he'd unsettle her, not to mention the very real possibilit
y that he might disgrace himself. He leaned against the wall and tried to recall the baseball scores he'd just read in the paper. His brain refused to function. Clearly, thinking about something else wasn't going to dampen his enthusiasm.

  He reckoned most men probably had the same problem on their wedding nights. Randy as hell, and tired of waiting. Not that the knowledge was much consolation. He wanted to make it nice for Kate. Perfect for her, if he could. If he could make this part of their marriage beautiful, maybe she would find it less difficult to adjust to the rest. He had no illusions; she wasn't the least bit happy about being his wife.

  At least she hadn't seemed nervous when she'd left the kitchen. Resigned was a better word. Zach smiled to himself. He'd use a slow hand. Give him a month. That lack of interest he sensed in her would become a thing of the past. And eventually she'd begin to see how much better her life could be, married to him. Less work, a nicer home, pretty clothes, and someone to protect her from bastards like Ryan Blakely.

  The light shining out around the door began to dim. Zach pushed away from the wall, swamped with disappointment. She had doused the lamp. He had been hoping she'd leave it lit. Now that he thought on it, though, he realized that had been a stupid expectation. Naturally, she wasn't as blasé about this as she pretended to be. He hadn't even kissed her yet. The unfamiliarity between them would make any woman feel nervous.

  He took a calming breath. That was fine. He didn't need light. And what man worth his salt couldn't work his way past a little initial shyness? He grasped the doorknob and pushed slowly into the room.

  In the dying illumination of the lamp, he saw Kate standing at the dresser. Modest didn't describe her gown. She was covered chin to toe, fingertip to shoulder in white muslin. Yards and yards of muslin. Her dark hair hung in silken, unbraided ripples down her back. He closed the door behind him but she didn't turn to look at him when the latch clicked into place. He supposed a woman had nightly rituals to perform, even on her wedding night.