“I’ll manage.”
She had no doubt, but it still seemed sad.
Sometime later Tray turned off the highway onto a city street. He wound through shopping areas and then residential, ending up pulling into a driveway to an older home. The yard was a bit shaggy, the shrubs overgrown. Despite that, it felt welcoming and inviting. The large front porch was unexpected, and displayed the age of the house. Modern homes rarely had front porches. Thanks to air-conditioning, people didn’t sit out much.
“This is it,” Tray said, gazing at the home.
Before they could get out of the car, a neighbor came from his house next door and crossed the lawn.
Tray got out to greet him.
Lianne scrambled out and gazed over the car at the two men.
“So sorry,” the older man said, reaching out to shake Tray’s hand, gripping it with both of his.
“It’s a shock. You found him?”
“We were going to the hardware store together. I wanted some hinges, Hal said he needed some paint. Said you’d be coming home one of these days to give him a hand with the bathroom. So when he didn’t answer, I went back and got the key I had and opened the door. He was still in bed. Died in his sleep, it looks like. I’m going to miss him. We’ve been friends for more than thirty years.”
Tray nodded. He glanced at Lianne. “Sam, I want you to meet Lianne O’Mallory, a friend. Lianne, this is Sam Friedman. He was a good friend of my uncle’s.”
Lianne greeted the man, feeling his sadness at the circumstances. He seemed almost bewildered at the loss of his longtime friend.
Tray spoke with Sam for a little longer, then unloaded the bags from the car. He motioned for Lianne to proceed him to the front door. Putting the suitcases down, he unlocked the door and opened it.
She stepped inside. It was an old home, but clean and kept up.
Tray followed her in and stopped, glancing around. “Seems strange to know he’ll never come from the back of the house when I get home and give me a hug.”
“Tell me what I can do,” Lianne said.
“See if there’s anything for lunch. I’m hungry. Then we can head for the funeral home and do what we’ve come for.”
That night Lianne went to bed in a guest room that looked as if it hadn’t been used for a decade. She’d made up the bed with clean sheets. The room was dusted, but not decorated. It was utilitarian, with a few piles of books and other items that looked as if they’d been stashed a while ago and forgotten.
She settled in and stared into the darkness. Tray had managed fine during the afternoon. They’d met with the funeral director and the minister from Hal’s church. The service would be in the morning. Tray had gone through the motions appropriately, but she felt the tight control he held. He was grieving. She knew how that felt. She’d cried for weeks when Edie died. She still got sad when she thought about all her friend had missed. Lianne had gradually accepted she would forever miss Edie. How much more would Tray miss the man who had raised him?
How much worse would it be if there was no one around to share the grieving with? She was glad she’d come.
The next morning passed in a blur of phone calls, visits from neighbors and the somber ride to the church and then the cemetery. Lianne was glad for Tray’s sake the turnout for the funeral had been substantial. Hal Larkins had been important in his circle of friends. Many stopped to speak to Tray. Almost half followed the hearse to the cemetery. The graveside service was brief. Lianne was moved by the minister’s words. She glanced at Tray standing at her side. His face could have been carved from stone. She slipped her hand into his and was startled by the sudden grip he gave. He did not relinquish it during the service.
Finally the last words had been said. The last mourners had drifted from the casket. Only Lianne and Tray remained.
“It’s time to go,” she said softly.
“I know.”
She waited a moment, then gave his hand a squeeze and pulled free. “Say your goodbyes, I’ll wait at the car.”
The minister stood near the vehicles. He spoke to her as she approached.
“Hal was a fine man. He did his best with his nephew.”
“Tray will always miss him, I’m sure,” she said.
“Hal was sure proud of him. Often caught me up on some dignitary Tray was guarding. It’ll seem strange not to have Hal on the left side of the church Sunday mornings. Be sure to remind Tray there will be a meal at the church. The ladies have been working all morning, and many of the mourners will be there. Not quite an Irish wake, but close. We’ve even rounded up some pictures from Hal’s life. Tray figured prominently in lots of the earlier ones.”
“We’ll be there,” she promised.
It was another ten minutes before Tray walked back to the car.
Lianne reminded him of what the minister had said.
“I hate having to go. But I will. Uncle Hal would have wanted that. I remember attending those after-funeral meals when I lived with him.”
“A way of celebrating a life,” she murmured. “His friends will want to talk about him, and give you their condolences.”
It was late afternoon by the time Tray turned into the driveway to the old house.
“I’m beat,” he said. “I’d much rather devise strategies to foil terrorists than have to do that again. But then, I won’t ever have to, will I?”
“Friends will die, there will be other funerals. It’s a part of life.”
“It sucks.”
Lianne nodded.
“After all we ate you probably won’t want dinner, but I’ll make a light snack for later. We’ll need something before bed,” she said.
He looked at her. His eyes dark and deep. “Thank you for coming. I did need someone, but didn’t realize it until today. It helped not to be alone.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent separately. Lianne expected he wanted time alone. She roamed the house and found a mystery book in the living room that looked intriguing. Settling in the comfortable sofa, she read away the hours. By the time it was dark, she was beginning to get hungry. Rising, she went in search of Tray.
He sat on the stoop at the back door, off the kitchen. The yard was dark, the trees devoid of leaves. Nothing could be seen, except with memory’s eye.
She went out to sit beside him.
“You doing okay?” she asked.
Even if he weren’t she suspected he wouldn’t tell anyone. Had he had a close relationship with his uncle, or always been rather independent`?
They sat in silence for a moment, then he spoke. “Something like this changes one’s perspective on life.”
“I guess.”
“If I’d ever thought about it, I would have figured him to live to be a hundred. Yet, my mother died young, their parents died before either one reached seventy. I should have thought about that.”
“And done what? You said no one suspected he wasn’t in robust health. Sometimes these things just happen,” Lianne said.
“And they could happen to me, as well.”
“Maybe. But you are not your uncle. And half your genes come from another family, maybe one whose members do live to be one hundred. Don’t borrow trouble, as my grandmother Elaine always says.”
He looked at her in the twilight. “How is the baby quest going?”
“I haven’t found anyone yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you’re still looking, right? I saw the list of attributes you’re seeking.”
She shrugged. “I’m trying to match up my take of men with what I want. I noticed you filled one out. Interested?” she ended on a joke. She was embarrassed he knew about her goal.
“Yes.”
Lianne blinked and stared at him. “What?”
“I am interested. Uncle Hal’s death changes a lot of things for me. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. I’m the last of my family. When I die, there will be no one to mourn my passing, no one to carry on with knowledge of me i
n their minds and memories. I want a child, maybe more than one, to be on earth when I’m gone. And I want their mother to be someone I can trust.”
“What about one of those women you’re always dating?” she asked. For some reason Lianne had trouble wrapping her mind around the idea of Tray wanting to father her baby. Wasn’t that what she was looking for—a man like Tray to be her baby’s father? Maybe that was the key—a man like Tray, not Tray himself.
“Let me tell you about the last woman I dated. Suzanne Victor was—is—beautiful. She dressed fashionably, could carry a conversation with anyone in Washington and had a beautiful apartment. Her parties were legend. But she’s a cold, unfeeling woman who wants nothing more than to be feted and idolized.”
“Oh. That’s why you stopped seeing her,” Lianne guessed, surprised by the cold assessment.
“No, I stopped seeing her because she killed our baby.”
Lianne couldn’t breathe for a moment. Had she heard him right? “You two were expecting a baby and she killed it?” She had never heard this.
“She became pregnant and aborted the child because she didn’t want stretch marks marring her skin and didn’t want morning sickness interrupting her life. I didn’t know until the deed had been done. I can never forget. Nor forgive her for such an act.”
Lianne didn’t know what to say. Her heart ached for an unwanted child who never had a chance. She yearned for a baby so much she couldn’t think of anything else. How could a woman abort her own baby? She didn’t understand.
“My mother sacrificed her life so I could be born,” Tray continued. “You’re risking your health holding off that operation to have a baby. I want someone like that to be the mother of my child. Not some vain, selfish, self-centered woman who is more concerned with dresses and parties than the health and well-being of a child. I filled out that form on a whim. Or maybe it was fate—without knowing what was coming. Not that it matters. Did I pass sufficiently that you’d consider me for your baby’s father?”
“This is awkward,” Lianne said. “I mean, you know what I want, but somehow I thought I could lead up to it more subtly than this. Are you sure you aren’t reacting to the strain and stress of the last two days? The shock of losing your uncle will take a little while to get over.”
“Getting over the initial shock won’t change the facts. I’m thirty-six years old, you know that. If I haven’t found someone before this, what are the chances I find someone before I’m too old to be a father?”
“It isn’t something you wanted before,” she said dryly.
“Because I thought I had all the time in the world.”
“So did I. Life’s showing me differently. But you can pick and choose.”
“I pick you,” Tray said.
Lianne blinked. Her heart began to race as she gave full rein to the image of her and Tray trying to make a baby. She clenched her hands into fists and looked away, into the blackness of the backyard. Could she do this? It was one thing to say she wanted to find a mate to make a baby with, something else to actually go through with it. Time was ticking by. There would come a day soon when she couldn’t stand the pain and would have to give in to the inevitable. She’d either do it with a baby or without, but she knew it was coming.
“Let me think about it overnight, if that’s okay?” she said at last. What was there to think about…she couldn’t do this. This was Traynor Elliott, a man who dated sophisticated women, traveled the world, knew the president, for heaven’s sake. And he wanted her to believe he wanted to father her baby?
“Fine.” He stood.
She rose beside him.
“Want to order pizza for dinner?” he asked.
Just like that they were back to business colleagues. They’d often ordered in pizza when working late on a project. The shift caught her off guard. She wished she could turn her emotions on and off so easily. She felt she was reeling from his suggestion.
“Yes, pizza would be fine.” She’d eat quickly and flee to the safety of the guest room. Spend some time going over his suggestion and then refuse him in the morning.
Tray dialed the pizza place from memory. Many a night he and Uncle Hal had eaten pizza after a ball game, or when both were too tired to fix dinner for some reason or another. Only when he hung up the phone did he wonder if Lianne noticed he’d remembered her choice. Too many late nights working for him to forget what she liked.
She’d gone into the living room while he’d been ordering. He started to follow, but changed his mind. He’d thought about family and babies and life and death all afternoon. Maybe having a baby with Lianne would end the nightmares. It wasn’t as if he’d even suspected his one-time girlfriend would commit such a heinous act. Nothing could change the past.
The future was ahead of him. He’d do his best to be the perfect father for any child he might have. He knew what a good, steadfast father was—just be like Uncle Hal. Not the man who had fathered him. He’d never even gone looking for him when he’d become an adult. If the man had not wanted him, Tray wanted nothing from him—not even an acquaintance.
Would Lianne say yes? It would make things easier.
He had certain stipulations, however. Would she go for them once he told her?
Used to making quick decisions, he wanted her answer now. He didn’t want to wait until morning. But he could understand her uncertainty. Until he’d told her he wanted to make a baby, she’d been a business colleague. This changed everything.
Maybe she didn’t want to sleep with him. He’d never thought about her in that light before, but after considering the situation this afternoon, he knew it would not be a hardship to make love to her. She was pretty, intelligent, even-tempered. She liked what she did, and she did it well. They could make this work. They’d have more in common than most parents did with a common work background and a mutual desire for a baby. She had to say yes. Why wouldn’t she?
Tray awoke early the next morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. He lay in bed for a short while, reviewing all the tasks he needed to do today before heading back to Washington. He planned to take his time in closing up the house. He’d come down on the weekends for a while, sort through each room and eventually decide whether to sell the place or rent it out. He couldn’t see living in it—at least not for a long time. His business was in D.C. But maybe he’d hold on to it and keep it for a retirement place or something.
He and Uncle Hal had never discussed this scenario. His uncle must have also thought he’d be around for another couple of decades. Wouldn’t he have loved to be a grandpa! If he and Lianne did have a baby, he’d always regret his uncle didn’t get the chance to see him. Or her. What would it be like to have a little girl? Tray knew nothing about children—but he could learn.
Rising, he quickly showered and dressed in faded jeans and a pullover sweater he’d left in his old room. Walking quietly down the hall, he paused at the guest room. There was no sound. Lianne was still asleep. Had she really considered his suggestion, or was she only waiting until this morning as a stalling technique? It would be awkward if she said no—both for the return trip and work.
It could be awkward if she said yes.
He’d had a night to mull it over himself and still found it a sound idea. She wanted a baby and now so did he. The contrast between Lianne and Suzanne was like day and night. This felt right. He liked her, she liked him. And knowing each other’s work habits and schedules would make it even easier to deal with a baby. It was the perfect solution.
If the baby was a boy, would she agree to name him Hal? His uncle would have loved that. Hadn’t he urged Tray enough times in the last few years to settle down and start a family? When Tray had countered that Hal had never married, he’d come back with he had his family with Tray—didn’t need to have a wife for that.
It was almost nine when Lianne entered the kitchen. Tray had heard the shower earlier and started breakfast. He’d spent the early hours contacting some of his field agents and getting in t
ouch with what was happening in the office. Now it was time to eat. And to talk.
“Good morning,” he said when she entered. “The omelets will be ready in a minute. Coffee’s on.”
“Nice,” she said.
He studied her as she poured the hot beverage into a mug. Her hair was glossy brown. He knew it was as soft as it looked from when he brushed it from her cheek at the cottage. He’d like to thread his fingers through the tresses and let them drift away. There was faint color in her cheeks—natural not artificial. There was nothing artificial about Lianne.
She looked up and caught him staring, her eyes bright blue. Would any child they made have blue eyes like her or dark like his? Mostly likely dark. Too bad.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, I’m hoping you like ham and cheese omelets.”
“I do. I love a man who can cook.”
“You’ve seen the limits of my accomplishments—order pizza and cook omelets. The rest I eat out.”
She smiled. “I like to cook. My mother is a great cook and is used to feeding a crowd. And she made sure every one of us knew how.”
They sat at the small table in the kitchen. As soon as Lianne finished the last of her breakfast, Tray nudged aside the plates.
“So, what’s it to be?” he asked, impatient to know her answer.
She met his gaze. “I have a couple of thoughts before saying either way. I don’t want to put my job in jeopardy. I love what I do and I’m good at it.”
“I don’t plan to put your job on the line, either way you decide.”
“Well, a relationship like this could become disconcerting to others at the office.”
He nodded, not so much in agreement as in encouraging her to get to the point. Yes or no?
She licked her lips. They glistened with the moisture. For a moment Tray stared. He wanted to feel their warmth, kiss away the wetness and taste her sweetness. He swallowed and looked into her eyes again.
She dropped her gaze to her coffee cup, which she was turning around and around. “Actually I hope I made it clear that there’s no guarantee I can get pregnant. There’s a strong possibility I can, but my doctor said there is also a chance I won’t. If you are expecting a sure thing, this isn’t it.”
The Pregnancy Promise Page 5