by Marta Perry
She winced at the pain in his voice. That had to be genuine, didn’t it?
“I just…I just don’t know.”
“We’re back at the same old impasse then, aren’t we.” His mouth hardened. “All I can say is that I barely knew the girl. If she had feelings for me, I wasn’t aware of it. I certainly never dated her.”
“Then why?” Her voice threatened to break. “Why would she say those things?”
She flung out her hands, and the question seemed to vibrate in the air between them.
“I don’t know.” His voice was heavy, final. “I guess there’s nothing else to say.”
She swallowed hard. “I guess there isn’t. When the DNA results come—”
“When the DNA results come, you’ll know I’m telling the truth. I wish you could trust me until then, but it’s pretty clear you can’t.”
Everything in her cried out to believe him. But she couldn’t. She could only shake her head and walk away.
Mitch tried to ignore the emotions that surged through him. It didn’t work. They pounded at him. Anger, pain, disappointment. He’d thought… What had he thought? That she’d begun to care for him? That she returned the caring he’d tried so hard not to admit?
He couldn’t deny it now. He looked bleakly at it. He cared for her. And she didn’t trust him. That was it, bottom line. She didn’t trust him.
Just like his father. Nobody’d trusted Ken Donovan, with good reason. He’d betrayed everyone who’d made that mistake—every friend, every employer. Everyone who’d given him a chance to make something of himself.
And then he’d betrayed his family. To Mitch, looking at that was like looking into a black hole. Worse, it was a hole that threatened to suck him in.
The doorbell rang. Anne? Impossible.
But he crossed the hall in a few long strides, grabbed the knob and flung the door open. And looked into the face of his brother.
“Link.”
“Hey, big brother.” Link slouched through the door without waiting for an invitation. He dropped an overloaded duffel bag on the floor and turned to Mitch. “Don’t look so glad to see me.”
In spite of everything that experience had taught him to expect from Link, he couldn’t help a surge of affection. Link, looking at him with that boyish grin, hair falling in his eyes, was for a moment the little brother he’d tried to teach and protect.
He held out his hand. “It’s been a long time.”
Link gripped his hand briefly. “Can’t say it looks like much has changed in Bedford Creek while I’ve been gone.”
“Don’t suppose it has.” Be careful. He couldn’t let Link in on the biggest change in Bedford Creek. The one in the house right across the street. Link wouldn’t be any support. In fact, he’d probably enjoy seeing Mitch embarrassed.
“Small town attitudes, small town minds.” The familiar mocking note came into Link’s voice. “How do you stand it?”
“I’m happy here. Some people wouldn’t be.” He snapped the words.
“Happy? How can you be happy knowing everyone in this town is looking down at you?”
“Nobody looks down at me.” His temper flared. That was Link, pushing the familiar buttons. “Not anymore.”
“Yeah, right.” Contempt saturated the words. “You’re the police chief now. That just means they’ll use you to clean up their messes. But don’t make the mistake of thinking they have any respect for you.”
“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? You don’t have any respect for anyone or anything.”
They were back to the old arguments, the ones they never seemed to get past.
Link shrugged. “I just look at the world a little differently from the way you do. Realistically. Nobody’s going to give you a break, so don’t expect it, and you won’t be disappointed.”
Like Anne, who didn’t trust him, Mitch thought. He stared bleakly at his brother, wondering how, in a few short moments, Link had managed to zero in on his pain.
Chapter Twelve
Anne looked out the front window the next morning for what must have been the twentieth time. The police car still sat in the driveway, so Mitch hadn’t left yet. Also for the twentieth time, she longed to run across the street, to tell him she believed in him. DNA results or not, she believed in him.
But she couldn’t do it. Each time she thought she was ready to take that step, something held her back.
When she thought of the pain in Mitch’s eyes the day before, she wanted to do whatever it would take to wipe it away.
Then the doubts crept in, poisoning her thoughts. What if she was wrong? What if Ellie’s presumption was true? What if Mitch really had been the man in Tina’s life?
Why can’t I know, Lord? Why can’t I know the truth, and then I could trust him?
No calmness came to still the tumult inside her. No answer presented itself, fully formed, in her mind. She didn’t know, she just didn’t know.
She heard the steps creak outside and turned back to the window in time to see the mail carrier going down. Kate was busy in the back of the house; Emilie safely napping upstairs. She might as well bring the mail in.
Anne carried a fat bundle inside and began to sort it on the hall table. Most of it was for Kate, of course, but—
She stared at the envelope with McKay Laboratories on the return address, and her heart started to hammer uncomfortably.
It was here. The DNA report was here, a week earlier than she’d hoped. When she’d called the lab to give them her address in Bedford Creek, she’d been told they were backed up with tests.
“Anne? Is something wrong?”
She’d been so preoccupied that she hadn’t heard Kate come in from the kitchen. The elderly woman was drying her hands on a tea towel, looking curiously at her.
“No, no, nothing.” Her face must betray that as a lie. “I’m fine. Excuse me.”
Clutching the envelope, she hurried up the stairs. Kate would think her rude, but she just couldn’t help it. She had to get away from the woman’s curious eyes while she held Emilie’s fate in her hands.
She slipped into the sitting room quietly and sank into the nearest chair. It was here, and now that it was, she could hardly bear to open it. She wanted to know; she was afraid to know.
Help me, Lord. Please help me. I’m afraid.
Suddenly the conviction she’d been seeking filled her, taking her breath away. The certainty pooled inside her, deep and sure. It wasn’t Mitch. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Mitch.
She opened the envelope and pulled out the results. They confirmed what she already knew. Mitch Donovan hadn’t fathered Tina’s child.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you.
She had to tell him. She folded the envelope and stuck it in her pocket. She had to tell him, now.
Kate stood in the hallway, glancing through a catalog. She looked up as Anne came down the stairs.
“I don’t know why they keep sending me these things. I never order anything from them.” Her gaze was keen on Anne’s face, but clearly she wouldn’t intrude.
Anne swallowed hard. She’d like to confide in Kate, but she couldn’t. “I need to speak to Mitch for a moment, and Emilie’s napping. Would you mind…?”
“Of course not.” Kate’s response was immediate. “You go on. Take as long as you want.”
She’d reached Mitch’s door before the thought occurred to her that he might be angry. He might well say, “I told you so.”
Well, he deserved to be able to say it, and she had to give him that chance. She knocked at the door.
Mitch pulled it open, his gaze both surprised and wary when he saw her. “Anne.”
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” He stepped back, his expression giving nothing away.
She walked in, trying to find the right words. Funny, she’d felt just that way the first time she’d seen him. Apprehensive, tense, struggling to find the right words. Maybe there weren’t any.
She
swung toward him and held out the envelope. He took it automatically, staring from it to her with a frowning intensity.
“It came.” She took a breath. “I want you to know this. I don’t see any reason why you should believe it, but it’s true. Before I opened the envelope, I knew what it would say. I knew it wasn’t you.”
He flicked at the opened envelope flap with his finger. “I see you still had to look.”
All right, she deserved that. “Yes, I guess I did.”
He nodded, his face expressionless. Then he handed the envelope back.
“Aren’t you going to look at it?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Why? I know what it says.”
She turned away from that searching gaze. “I wish…” Her cheeks grew warm. “I wish things could have been different. I’m sorry I put you through this. Maybe I never should have come to Bedford Creek.”
He took a step closer, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. “If you’d never come, I’d never have met you.”
She tried to smile. “I would think you’d consider that an advantage.”
He shook his head. “I’ll trade the suspicion for the chance to know you any day of the week.”
For a moment her eyes met his. The barriers he usually put up were gone, and she seemed able to see right into his soul. To see the integrity. He wasn’t a man who hid his weaknesses behind a façade. The only thing hiding behind his mask was strength.
He reached out to touch her cheek. His palm was warm and strong against her skin. The feel of him seemed to spread out from his fingers, coursing along her nerve endings, warming her all the way through.
“Mitch.” She barely breathed his name.
He slid his hand down her neck, leaving longing in its wake. He grasped her shoulder and drew her toward him.
It was all right now. He hadn’t been involved with Tina; he wasn’t lying to her. She could trust him. She could let herself care about him. She leaned toward him, expecting to feel his lips on hers.
Instead he held her close, his cheek against hers.
“Will you tell me something?” His voice was soft, a whisper in her ear.
“Tell you what?” How she could think clearly enough to tell him anything, she couldn’t imagine. Her mind seemed totally involved in the feel of his cheek was against hers, how strong his muscles were under her hand, how the two of them fit together perfectly.
“Tell me why it’s so hard for you to trust.”
The words brought her back…back to a world where explanations had to be made, where people had a right to know things, no matter how painful.
She met his eyes. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Mitch watched the play of emotion on her face. She’d come so far into his life in such a short time and now he couldn’t imagine doing without her.
“I think I already know some of this. It has to do with your parents, doesn’t it?”
He could feel the resistance in her. She didn’t want to tell him this. The muscles in her neck worked, as if she had swallowed something unpalatable.
“Poor little rich girl.” Her voice mocked herself. “That’s what it sounds like, so I don’t talk about it.”
“You can talk about it to me.” He led her to the sofa, sat down next to her. “I want to understand.” He managed a smile. “After all, you know the worst about me, don’t you?”
She stared down at her hands, still resisting, still holding back. Then she looked up at him, her eyes defiant. “My parents never hit me. They never mistreated me. I had everything I needed.”
He rested his hand on the nape of her neck, feeling the tension there. “You couldn’t have had everything you needed, or you wouldn’t feel the way you do.”
Anne stiffened. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I feel. I just…”
“You just can’t rely on anyone.”
“Well, maybe I can’t. Maybe people aren’t very reliable.”
“Some aren’t.” He met her look steadily. “But some are.”
“I guess I have trouble telling the difference. After all, I was married to someone who recreated the same pattern. That wasn’t smart, was it?”
Her anger was still there, but he recognized it for the defense it was. If they were ever going to get past this, he had to get her to level with him.
“I think I can almost fill in the blanks.” It could be that throwing it right at her was the only way. “Your parents provided you with every material thing you needed. They just neglected the little things—love, attention, support.”
“They probably thought they were doing the right things for me. I should have been stronger. I should have been able…”
“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.”