What a Woman Wants Page 6

  Talk about your causes for a brawl.

  He rubbed his chin with his fingers, then stared at the dim tan line on his pinky. In the chaos that had surrounded his impromptu proposal the night before, he realized he must have left the ring on Darby’s kitchen table. He muttered a curse under his breath.

  He hadn’t known what he’d been thinking when he decided to propose. He supposed he expected her to immediately accept. She was pregnant. He had gotten her that way. They got married. Right?

  Wrong. He was learning at a rapid rate that things didn’t always turn out the way you planned.

  “Oh. One of those FBI guys called back,” Ed said, finishing his dinner in record time.

  John stared at him. “Why didn’t you put him through to the radio?”

  “You must have been out, um, seeing to the towing of your car. I couldn’t reach you.” He motioned over his shoulder. “The message is on your desk. He wants you to call him back.”

  “Fine.” John sighed, glad for a reason to leave the room and lock himself in his office. Besides, the sooner he got the two escaped cons out of his holding cell, the better. This was the first time they’d had criminals as dangerous as these guys on the premises. And he’d prefer if the soundness of the cells wasn’t tested just now.

  “By the way…”

  John slowed his step, all too aware of Ed’s gossipy opening. He braced his hands against his doorjamb, his back to his co-worker.

  “Dusty called for you a few minutes ago.”

  The “not much” Ed claimed to be going on when John had come in was turning out to be a lot.

  “Dusty?” he repeated, cringing when his voice cracked in the middle of the name.

  The older brother of his late best friend never called him at work. Lord knew they ran into each other enough at the fire station where Dusty’s wife, Jolie, was the chief, and Dusty himself often volunteered after retiring from the department the year before.

  “Yeah. Sounded a bit peeved if you ask me. Wanted to know when you’d be back.”

  Oh, no. He knows.

  John felt the coffee he’d been knocking back all day begin to churn in his stomach. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Not that he would have been heard, anyway. Out front Dusty’s red truck squealed to a stop by the curb. He and Ed watched as Dusty got out and stalked toward the door, completely oblivious to the rain running over his brow and down his shirt.

  Ed cleared his throat as Dusty nearly yanked the front door off its hinges. “Yep. I’d definitely say he’s a little peeved,” Ed said.

  Those were the last words John heard before Dusty cocked back his arm and socked him right in the eye.

  John reeled back against his office door, the glass vibrating threateningly before he managed to grab ahold of the jamb and steady himself.

  “Whoa! Just wait a minute here,” John said quickly, putting his hand up to stop another onslaught. “Now what did you go and do that for?”

  He peered at Dusty and caught his hand before he could land another punch. “Would you stop? I’m on duty, man. Hit me again and I’ll have to lock you up in a holding cell until you cool down.”

  “Just you try it,” Dusty ground out, looking like a good twenty minutes of pummeling John’s face wouldn’t drain a percentage of the anger radiating from him like steam.

  “Sheriff?” Ed asked uncertainly behind him. “Shall I arrest him?”

  Dusty swung on the older man threateningly as John held his hand up. “No, Ed, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can take care of this.” He stared at his friend even as he checked his right eye for blood. There was none. But already it was starting to swell up and it stung like hell. “I only wish he’d given me a chance to do that before he started throwing punches.”

  John kicked the door to his office open, then caught it before it could come back and slap him in the other eye. Dusty followed, evidenced by the slamming of the same door. John guessed that before the day was out, the glass would be broken. He removed his firearm and badge and dropped both into a desk drawer, then closed and locked it just in case he was tempted to use either. Then he closed the blinds on the door and windows to block out Ed’s curious gaze.

  “Tell me it isn’t true,” Dusty challenged, rainwater drenching his hair and shirt. “Tell me Darby isn’t pregnant.”

  “Okay. It isn’t true. She isn’t pregnant.”

  Dusty narrowed his eyes.

  “But I’d be lying.”

  “Why you…” Dusty advanced on him, but during the exchange John had managed to put his big metal desk between them. Dusty stopped just in front of it.

  “Hey,” John said, holding his hands up. “The last thing I expected to happen was this.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  John grimaced and wondered if he should get his gun back out.

  But already Dusty’s anger was losing some of its steam. He started shaking his head and pacing the office. “I can’t believe it. All this time, your going out to the farm, I thought you were just helping Darby out.” He turned his stare back on John. “With the farm. Not knocking her up.”

  John winced at the crude words. “Trust me, it’s not exactly what I had in mind, either.”

  “No?” Dusty asked with a raised brow. “What was on your mind, then? Had you planned to just bang my sister-in-law in secret without any concern for the consequences?”

  “As opposed to in public?”

  Dusty advanced.

  John held up his hand to ward him off. “Whoa. Bad joke.” He sighed as Dusty stood his ground. “Anyway, nobody was banging anybody. What happened between me and Darby certainly wasn’t planned. And it only happened once.”

  “Once is all it takes.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Dusty crammed his eyes shut and muttered a string of curses. “What were you thinking? God, I feel like I’m reliving a scene from the past.”

  John stared at the surface of his desk. No doubt Dusty was referring to the day Erick had told his brother he’d gotten Darby pregnant with the twins before they were married.

  “Haven’t any of you guys ever heard of condoms? Prophylactics?”

  Dusty sank down onto one of the two green metal chairs in front of the desk and ran the heels of his hands over his eyes. John took the opportunity to probe his own injured eye. He winced when pain shafted through his head at the first touch. He didn’t have to look into the mirror to know that he was going to have one hell of a shiner.

  And it was no less than he deserved. Hell, as long as he was at it, he deserved much worse. He could count himself lucky that Dusty hadn’t chained him to the back of his truck and dragged him through town at high speeds wearing a sign that read Condemned Man.

  “I just don’t get it,” Dusty said, and sighed. He leaned back and looked at John through half-lidded eyes. “Jolie and I have been married for six years and can’t have a child, while all the single people in Old Orchard get pregnant just looking at each other.” He shook his head again. “Life’s a bitch.”

  “You can say that again.”

  John guessed that was the wrong thing to say, given Dusty’s quick glare.

  “Speaking of Jolie, how are her and Ellie, anyway?” John asked just as quickly.

  “Huh?” Dusty blinked. “Fine. They’re fine.”

  Aside from providing emergency foster care on occasion, Jolie and Dusty had taken in little Eleanor Johansen while her father recuperated from major burns he’d suffered while trying to save his wife from a house fire. As a result of Jolie and Dusty’s loving care, Ellie was a healthy five-year-old girl adjusting well to her new circumstances.

  “Good. I’m glad everything’s going so well,” John said.

  Dusty’s eyes softened, apparently thinking about his family.

  John cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you find out about…well, you know?”

  “What you want to know is if the gossip is making the rounds, do
n’t you?” Dusty muttered something under his breath. “It wouldn’t be less than you deserve, but no. Tuck called me an hour ago with the news. Swore I was the only one he told. Seems he walked in while Doc Kemp was examining Darby.”

  John nodded, trying not to let his relief be too evident.

  “But that doesn’t change anything, you know.”

  “I know.” John fiddled with the paperwork on his desk. “You and Jolie—”

  “Me and Jolie are me and Jolie,” Dusty said, standing again as if the thought of sitting another moment was unthinkable. “What I want to know is when you and Darby are getting married?”

  John’s throat seemed to completely disappear, leaving nowhere for the saliva gathering in his mouth to go. “What?”

  Dusty started pacing again. “You wouldn’t have been my first choice as a second husband for my sister-in-law. Hell, I hadn’t even thought about Darby’s getting married again. But I guess that’s neither here nor there now, is it?” He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair.

  “We’re not getting married.”

  Before John could blink his one good eye, Dusty had him by the shirtfront, his breath hot on his face. “Pass that by me again?”

  Again John wondered if putting the gun away had been such a good idea. “Come on, Dusty, I already asked her. It’s the first thing that came to mind when she told me the news.” Well, it wasn’t exactly the first thing, but Dusty didn’t have to know that. “She told me no, flat out. Twice,” he added for good measure.

  Dusty searched his face, seeming to flinch when he noticed the swelling of John’s right eye. “I wouldn’t marry your sorry butt, either.” He grinned and let him go. “But that’s me.”

  John let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “You’re going to ask her again of course.”

  “Of course,” John said, although in all honesty, he hadn’t gotten that far in his thought processes. He was still stinging from her rejection.

  “Good.”

  And with that, Dusty left the office as quickly as he’d come into it.

  John dropped into his chair, wondering how much worse things were going to get. And whether or not he’d survive it.

  Chapter Six

  “You promised you wouldn’t say anything,” Lindy whispered.

  Erin crouched in the dark bedroom closet beside Lindy and closed the door. She didn’t know why her sister liked the tiny room so much. It smelled musty and damp and the wood floor was hard and cold.

  “Say what?” she asked.

  Lindy lightly landed a closed fist against Erin’s arm. Erin absently rubbed the spot, knowing that if her sister was really upset, she would have hit her harder. “About Dad coming back.”

  Erin settled down next to her twin and sighed, instantly comforted by the feel of her sister’s side against hers. For the past two hours Mom had sat down with them to have one of her heart-to-hearts with them. Tonight’s topic had been Dad.

  Thank heaven nothing more had been said about Uncle Sparky. But Erin still couldn’t help feeling as if she’d just spent the day cleaning out the animal pens. All of them. She yawned so wide her face hurt. Sometimes listening to Mom talk was a hard job.

  “I didn’t mean to say anything.” Erin rested her temple against Lindy’s hair and sighed again. “I didn’t know what else to do. Uncle Sparky was kneeling on the floor, you know, like we saw in that movie the other day when that man asked that woman to marry him, and Mom was…touching his face.” She had a hard time swallowing. What she didn’t want to tell her sister was the way her mom had been looking at Uncle Sparky. She’d looked happy, instead of sad. And for a minute Erin had been happy, too. But she knew it was wrong to feel happy. Lindy had told her they wouldn’t be happy ever again.

  “Where’s Grammy?” Lindy asked.

  “Where else? Asleep on the chair, one of those romance books open on her chest.” She sighed deeply. “I wonder when Mom’s going to be home from Aunt Jolie’s.”

  “I wish we could have gone.”

  “Me, too.”

  Lindy shifted beside her, switching on a flashlight. The beam flickered and her sister shook it so the batteries would line up again. She stared at the light, wishing for the time when she and her sister used to hide in the closet and play monster with the flashlight Daddy had given them. Then Daddy had gone on his long journey, and real monsters had come out to play.

  Lindy fiddled with the walkie-talkie in her hand, her fingers barely fitting around the body of it.

  “Here.”

  Erin took the flashlight.

  “Well, hold it steady, dummy.”

  Erin frowned and used both hands to hold the flashlight straight. Her arms were tired. But her head was even more tired.

  Lindy used her free hand to switch on the walkie-talkie, chewing on her bottom lip the way she always did when she concentrated.

  Finally the radio hissed and spit like Spot when you accidentally stepped on her tail. Lindy pressed the button to stop the noise.

  “Daddy? Come in, Dad. It’s Lindy.”

  Erin’s heart beat hard in her chest and her hands got sweaty. The flashlight slipped.

  “I said hold it steady!” Lindy whispered over the sound of the radio.

  “I am!”

  The beam hit the radio and Lindy tried again. “Dad? Daddy? It’s me. Lindy. And Erin,” she added.

  Lindy glared at her and released the button. “He only talks to me.”

  Erin made a face at her.

  The hissing disappeared again. “Dad? Talk to me, Dad. I’m sorry I made you angry with me. Please, please, just say hi.”

  Erin didn’t know why, but it was suddenly hard to breathe, and her heartbeat sounded really loud in her ears. So loud, she wanted to put her hands over them.

  “Maybe we need to go somewhere else. You know, for better ’ception,” she suggested quietly, hating the sound of the static. “You know, like outside or something.”

  “Shh.” Lindy pushed the button again, her voice sounding funny as she called for their dad again.

  Erin shone the light in her sister’s face. Tears made her lashes all spiky and her eyes looked huge, just like when they used to play monster. What was even stranger is that she didn’t say anything to Erin for shining the light on her.

  “Dad? Please, Dad, answer me. I…” A sniffle. “I need you.”

  Darby had never lied to the girls before. But she tried to convince herself that even she was allowed a little white lie every now and again. Besides, she didn’t know how they would react if she’d told them she was going to John’s, instead of their aunt’s.

  The truck hit an especially nasty rut, jarring her teeth as she negotiated the uneven pavement. If she needed any more of an answer, that would be it.

  Somehow word had gotten out.

  Darby’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as she tried to make out the road in the bouncing headlights. No, not somehow. She knew exactly how word had gotten out. Oh, it had probably started out innocently enough. Tucker O’Neill had accidentally sauntered in on her and Doc Kemper. Doc had given him a warning. Then Tuck had probably, under the strictest of confidences of course, told someone at the hospital while making his rounds. Then that person had secretly told another. And here she was, thirtysix hours later, driving out to John’s trailer in the dead of night because her late husband’s brother had had it out with the man who’d gotten his widowed sister-in-law pregnant.

  Mercy. How complicated things could get so quickly.

  She rubbed the furrowed skin between her brows, just thankful her mother had already been over at the house and that she was able to hop into the truck mere moments after Jolie’s frantic call explaining the situation. Or as much of the situation as she knew, anyway.

  Darby scanned the pitch-black horizon, trying to make out a light, a landmark of any kind. Despite the endless tracks of farmland in northeastern Ohio, this particular road was crowded with thick trees, making her task
that much more difficult. She’d never had a need to come out here before now. John’s “poor excuse for a bachelor pad,” as Erick used to call it, wasn’t exactly fit for proper company, she’d heard it told. But when she’d called to see how he was and he’d asked if he could come over to her place, she’d told him that she’d come to him, instead. Then she’d hung up without finding out how he’d fared under Dusty’s wrath.

  Of course she told herself she should be happy the gossip hadn’t yet made the full circuit. If it had, her phone would have been ringing off the hook, and her mother probably wouldn’t have let her go until she’d told her everything. She supposed it was altogether possible that Tuck had had an attack of conscience and had given in and called Dusty straight out, instead of the news making it to her brother-in-law via a more circuitous route. She drew a deep breath and held it. Oh, how she hoped that was the case. The last thing she wanted was for the girls to find out from a third-hand source, instead of from their own mother.

  She swallowed hard, dreading the moment when she would have to sit them down for that particular heart-to-heart. Her hand slid to her abdomen. A moment that would have to come very soon. A moment that would undoubtedly rank up there as one of the most difficult of her life, if Erin’s recent behavior was any indication.

  Over a day had passed since John’s proposal, and she still hadn’t coaxed from the twins the reason behind Erin’s bizarre outburst. Not even freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies had been enough to get the two munchkins to talk. They’d just sat on the sofa, their adorable faces blank, and listened while she droned on for so long she got tired of hearing herself. And the more she talked, the more she realized that there was a very good chance that she didn’t know her own children as well as she thought she did. Oh, she didn’t question their love for her. Or hers for them. But she was coming to see that there were more layers to the twins’ personalities than she’d suspected. Something she hadn’t noticed, partly because she’d been so busy trying to remake their family into something that didn’t include Erick. And mostly because she’d been so determined to heal their wounds she hadn’t taken the time to probe and see what might lie underneath them.