by Marta Perry
“What? To tell them how to be parents?” Anger licked along his veins, at two selfish people he’d never known. “They had a beautiful child, and they never bothered to let her know just how precious she was.”
“You don’t know that.”
She tried to smile, but it was a pitiful effort that wrung his heart. He could feel the pride that had kept her silent slipping away.
“I used to think maybe I wasn’t pretty enough, or special enough, or what they wanted.” She shook her head. “I used to think if only I’d been a boy, it would have been different. My father always wanted a son.”
He slid his hand comfortingly down the long sweet curve of her back. “Used to think?”
She glanced at him, and he saw the tears that sparkled on the verge of spilling over. “Then I met my friend, Helen. And through Helen, I found out I had another Friend. One who considered me precious, even if my parents hadn’t.”
He nodded. “I thought it was something like that. When I saw the dedication in your Bible.”
Her blinding smile broke through the tears that had gathered. “First it was Helen, introducing me to the Lord. And then God brought me Emilie. Once I had a child, I realized how wrong they’d been. Emilie opened me up to a whole new dimension in my life. I could never ignore her the way they ignored me.”
The smile hurt his heart. He wanted her to smile that way for him. To light up because he was part of her life, too.
“She means everything to you.”
“She means—” Her voice choked a little. “If I have Emilie to love, none of the rest of it matters. If I don’t...”
She stopped, and he saw the pain that filled her eyes. Pain and fear.
“What if I lose her? What if I go into that hearing with nothing, and the court decides to put her into a foster home? It could happen. I’ve seen it happen.”
“It’s not going to happen. Not to you and Emilie.”
He wanted to wipe the fear away, banish it for good. Why couldn’t he do that one thing for her? Assist, protect, defend. He wasn’t doing a very good job of any of those for Anne.
“You don’t know that.” Her hands clenched. “No one knows.”
“Don’t.” He drew her close against him, wanting only to comfort her. “Don’t torture yourself like this.”
“I can’t help it.” She turned her face into his chest, and he felt her ragged breath on his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt.
“It’s going to be all right.” He cradled her face between his palms so he could see her eyes, will her to believe him. “You’ve got to hold on to that.”
Her gaze locked with his, and as her eyes darkened, all the breath seemed to go out of him. Her lips were a scant inch from his, and he longed to close the gap, to taste her mouth, wrap his arms around her and not let go. But how could he? What she needed from him was comfort now.
Then she lifted her mouth to his, and all his rational thought exploded into fragments. He drew her closer, the blood pounding through his veins. Her mouth was warm and sweet, and the two of them fit together as if they’d been made for each other.
This was right. It had to be.
“Well, well—”
The voice was like a splash of icy water in Mitch’s face.
“—looks like my big brother has company.”
* * *
Mitch let her go so suddenly that for an instant Anne was totally disoriented. She had to force herself out of a world that had included no one but her and Mitch. Someone else had come in. What was a stranger doing in Mitch’s house?
Except that it wasn’t a stranger. Mitch had said his name. Link. This had to be the brother—the one Mitch didn’t want to talk about.
“Mitch, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” He crossed toward them from the hall, his walk an easy slouch as different as possible from Mitch’s military bearing.
Mitch didn’t speak, and his silence made her nervous. She held out her hand.
“I’m Anne Morden.” She bit back any further explanation. To say anything more would show her embarrassment, would imply she had some reason to feel embarrassed.
Link took her hand, holding it a bit longer than was necessary. “Link Donovan. Mitch’s little brother.”
He was slighter than Mitch, not quite as tall or as broad. But the same dark-brown hair fell on his forehead, longer and more unruly than Mitch’s military cut, and the same chocolate-brown eyes assessed her.
“Link is here for a visit. A brief one.” Mitch seemed to make an effort to rouse himself from his silence.
“He works out west.”
“Sometimes.” Link eyed him. “Sometimes my travels bring me back to Pennsylvania, and good old Bedford Creek. My big brother would rather I stayed out west.”
“I didn’t say that.” Mitch grated the words.
Anne looked at him. Mitch had the closed, barricaded look he’d worn the first time she met him. She thought she sensed anger seething underneath, but he obviously didn’t intend to let it out.
“Close enough.” Link shrugged. “But here I am back again, like the proverbial bad penny. And Mitch still wishes I’d go away.”
That was clearly an appropriate time for Mitch to protest that he didn’t want to be rid of his brother, Anne thought. But he didn’t. He just gave Link that daunting stare.
She, at least, would have found it daunting. But Link seemed unaffected.
He shrugged. “Well, guess I’ll let you get back to...whatever it was you were doing.”
He sauntered back out again, and in a moment she heard the front door slam.
She’d opened her mouth to say some conventional words, but Link had gotten out the door before she could muster them.
Mitch shot off the couch. He strode to the window and looked out, as if assuring himself that Link was gone. “Sorry. Link just showed up yesterday. He does that.”
“Not very often, it seems.” She tread warily, not sure of his feelings.
“It’s been two years,” Mitch said. “I could see your mind working when you looked at him. You were wondering if he could be Emilie’s father.”
“I suppose I was.” That should hardly surprise him, under the circumstances. “I wonder that about every man I meet in Bedford Creek.”
“You don’t need to wonder about Link.” His voice was harsh. “I know exactly when he was here last. Two years ago next month, right at Easter. Wanting me to bail him out of trouble again, like he always does.”
His anger seemed all out of proportion, and she felt her way, unsure what was driving it. Or what she could do to defuse it.
“And did you help him?”
Mitch’s frown darkened. “I lent him money again. Although I don’t think lend is the right word, since he’s never repaid a cent. And then I told him it was the last time. That he’d better find someone else to get him out of trouble, because I wouldn’t do it again.”
Thoughts tumbled through her mind, most of which were probably better not expressed. “I see.” But she didn’t.
“I never figured I’d say that about my own brother. When we were kids, I used to think we’d always be best friends.”
He went silent, and she tried to find the words that would get him talking again.
“I always dreamed of having a brother or sister,” she began. “I imagined it would be the best thing, to have someone to share things with.”
“There wasn’t much to share at our house.” His mouth became a thin line. “Except maybe a slap or two when our father had had too much to drink.”
“You tried to protect your brother.” She knew that much without asking. It was in his nature.
“I tried. But Link figured out early how to talk his way out of trouble. And he did it even if that meant he blamed me.”
Anne could sense the pai
n he’d felt at his brother’s betrayal. “Mitch, you can’t still hold him responsible for that. Any kid would—”
He swung toward her. “I don’t blame him for that.” The words shot toward her, loud in the quiet room. “I blame him because he’s turned out just like our father. I can’t understand that, and I don’t think I ever will.”
The pain came through in his words so clearly that it pierced her heart. She suddenly saw a younger Mitch, trying to protect his brother and having that protection thrown back in his face.
“No.” She said it softly. “I guess I wouldn’t, either.”
For a moment he didn’t respond. Then his head jerked in the briefest of nods.
Let me in. Please don’t shut me out. “Have you been in touch with him at all since that last time?”
“No. I didn’t expect to hear from him. He’d stay away until he thought I had time to get over it. Until he thought he could hit me up for money again.”
“Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s done some growing up since then.”
He shook his head. “Look, there’s no point in rehashing this. Link is the way he is, and I don’t figure I’m ever going to change him. I’m just sorry he came in when he did.”
“Because we were kissing?” She smiled, inviting him to see the humor in it. “That’s not so bad, is it?”
“You don’t understand.” His face refused to relax. “Link would like nothing better than to embarrass me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why is it embarrassing to be caught kissing someone? You’re not hiding a wife in the closet, are you?”
He shook his head stubbornly. “It’s not funny. You don’t know what he’s like.”
“I know what you’re like.” She closed the space between them, putting her hand on his arm. It was like a bar of iron. “Link doesn’t matter to me, except for the way he affects you.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, knowing he could walk in at any minute. I should have had more sense.”
Her patience abruptly ran out. She was trying to be reasonable, trying to be on his side, and he just wouldn’t let her. “If that’s the way you feel about it, maybe you shouldn’t have kissed me at all.” She snatched her jacket from the chair. “I think I’d better go.”
He didn’t try to stop her.
Chapter 13
“Finish up that homework before you watch television.” Mitch leaned over the history book and notebook Davey had spread out on the kitchen table. “Mrs. Prentice said you’re behind in your assignments.”
Davey gave him a rebellious look. He picked up the yellow pencil with an elaborate sigh.
At least there was one person in his life who wasn’t arguing with him. Mitch picked up the dish towel and started drying the silverware from dinner. Davey might be unhappy about having someone keep an eye on him while he did homework, but maybe at some level he understood Mitch was doing it because he cared. Mitch hoped so, anyway.
Understanding didn’t extend to other people in his life. Anne didn’t understand why he felt the way he did about his brother. As for Link... Who knew what Link understood? How to get his own way—that was all that had ever mattered to him. He didn’t care about anything else.
He tossed a handful of spoons into the drawer. Link’s return had upset too much. He should be with Anne right now, helping her, mapping out a plan for the adoption hearing. Instead she was so angry she’d probably slam the door in his face if he went over there.
He couldn’t blame her for that. He hadn’t intended it, but to her it had probably sounded as if he were ashamed of kissing her. Of caring about her.
I didn’t mean it. He tried saying the words in his mind, tried imagining what her response would be.
Nothing encouraging appeared. Instead, he could only see her face the way it had looked earlier—angry, hurt, disappointed.
“You two look busy.” Link’s tone made it clear he didn’t mean that as a compliment.
Mitch turned toward the doorway. Link’s hair was wet from the shower, his shirt and pants freshly pressed.
“Going somewhere?”
“You’re not wishing me gone, are you, big brother?”
Aware of Davey’s dark eyes watching them, Mitch shook his head. “I already said you were welcome.” As long as you don’t cause trouble. “I just wondered where you were off to.”
Link swung a leather jacket around his shoulders. “Going to meet up with some of the guys. It’ll be just like old times.”
“Not too much like old times, I hope.” Link had run with a rough crowd in high school, and Mitch had no desire to have to arrest his own brother.
“You never did think much of my friends.” A defensive note crept into Link’s voice.
Mitch gave him a level look. “I think of them as little as possible. You’d be better off if you did the same.”
“Hey, you’ve got your friends, and I’ve got mine. Can’t say I ever cared for yours, but maybe your taste is improving. Your Anne’s a cut above most of the local talent. You seeing her tonight?”
He should be. “No.”
“Too bad.” Link didn’t sound sorry. “Maybe you scared her off. Maybe she’d like to try out a different Donovan brother.”
The plate he was holding clattered into the dish drainer, and Mitch took a step toward his brother. “You leave her out of this, you hear?”
Link lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Little bit of a sore spot there? Hey, don’t worry. She’s not my type, anyway.” He turned away. “Expect me when you see me.”
Mitch counted to ten, then made it twenty. Nobody could make him madder than Link could. Maybe that was because nobody knew his trigger spots quite so well. Or enjoyed pushing them quite as much.
He turned back to the table, to discover Davey was gone. The history book still lay there, and the notebook was pristine. If any homework had been done, there was no sign of it.
Fuming, he went in search of the boy. He found him in the living room, parked in front of the television. Mitch snapped off the set in the middle of a car chase, earning a glare from Davey.
“Hey! I was watching that.”
“How about your homework?”
“Done.” Davey’s tone was airy. “All done.”
Mitch held out the text and notebook. “Show me. You were supposed to write the answers to ten questions. Show me.”
“Listen, I know all that stuff. I don’t need to write it down.”
“If you knew all that stuff, you wouldn’t be getting a D in history.”
“It’s dumb, anyway.” Davey glared at him. “I’ll bet you never did your homework. I’ll bet your brother never did. So why do I have to?”
“Because I said so!” There were a lot better reasons than that, but at the moment his fuse was so short that he couldn’t think of any. He tossed the book at Davey. “Get up to your room, and don’t come out until the work is finished. And don’t count on watching TV again any time soon.”
“You’re not my boss!” Davey let the book fall to the floor. “I don’t have to do what you say. When my father comes back—”
“If your father comes back, you can argue with him. Until then, you’ll live by my rules.” He scooped the book off the floor and shoved it into Davey’s hands. “Now go upstairs and get started.”
Davey glared at him for another moment. Then he turned and stamped up the stairs, each footstep making its own protest. The door to his bedroom slammed shut.
Mitch held on to the conviction that he was right for about another minute-and-a-half. Then his anger cooled and the truth seeped in. He’d just blown up at Davey because he was angry with Link. To say nothing of being angry with himself.
Oh, he was right: the kid had to do his homework. But Mitch was the grown-up in the equation. He shouldn’t have lost his temper. He certainly shouldn’t have said an
ything about Davey’s father.
He glanced uncertainly toward the stairs. Should he go up and apologize? Or say something about the boy’s father? But the man seemed to have done an excellent job of disappearing.
He could have stood some impartial advice. If he hadn’t made Anne thoroughly disgusted with him, he could have asked her. She and Davey seemed to have connected. But that door was closed until he managed to make amends.
Maybe the best thing was to leave the kid alone for a bit. He glanced at his watch. He’d give Davey an hour, then see how he was getting along. If he hadn’t done the questions by then, maybe he could use some help. Then they could have a snack and watch something on television together, the way he’d always imagined families did.
Mitch sat down with the newspaper and tried to concentrate on the printed words. Unfortunately, too many things kept intruding. Was he doing the right thing for Davey? What was he going to do about Link? And most of all, how could he make things right with Anne?
Her face seemed to form against the black-and-white page, angry and hurt. The two of them had been closer than they’d ever been this afternoon. They’d reached a new level of understanding and trust, quite apart from the kiss that had shaken him as he’d never been shaken in his life.
And then it had all fallen apart.
Finally he put the paper down and looked at his watch: forty-five minutes. Good enough. He’d go fix things with Davey. It would be practice for trying to fix things with Anne.
He went up the steps quickly, forming the words in his mind. No indication that he was backing down on the homework issue, just a friendly offer to help—that was the right tone to take.
He tapped lightly on the door, then opened it. “Davey?”
He was talking to an empty room. The history book lay on the crumpled bed, and the window stood open to the cold night air. Davey was gone.
* * *
Anne put a light blanket over Emilie, tucking it around the sleeping baby. Emilie sprawled on her back, rosy face turned slightly to the side, hands outstretched. The pose spoke of perfect trust, perfect confidence. In Emilie’s view of the world, everything was secure.
