Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series)

by Watters, Patricia

  "Your hips aren't very wide," Jack said. "It could be a difficult birth."

  "He'll get through," Grace mused, while contemplating the random dishes and mismatched coffee mugs on a shelf beside the sink. She eyed Jack, who looked truly concerned. "If you're that worried, I might consider having him at the birthing center, but it's expensive and my insurance doesn't cover it," she added, while feeling an urge to round up a bucket and mop and disinfectant and start cleaning Jack's house and make it a home.

  "Is that why you're having him at home, to save a few bucks?" Jack asked, taking her attention away from a copper tub with a confusion of magazines and dirty socks and one old, slipper lined in fleece. The tub would look nice with an arrangement of silk flowers in it.

  "It's considerably more than a few bucks," she mused, turning her attention to the mantle over the fireplace. An old clock sat off at one end, covered in dust and nearly obscured by a stack of mail, dirty mugs, and more old magazines...

  "Cost is no problem," Jack said. "If it's about money it's settled. You'll have him at the birthing center at Portland General. I'll call and set things up."

  That caught Grace's attention. "No! I've been going to the birthing center in McMinnville since I learned I was pregnant and I'm willing to have the baby there, but not at the hospital."

  She looked at Jack, who was going through his usual chain of reactions when she confronted him, and waited for him to come around, which he evaded, by saying, "We still have a couple more weeks to decide."

  Grace released a snort of exasperation and sat on the couch, the only piece of furniture free of dust, but only because it looked like it had recently been slept on, with a blanket thrown back and a bed pillow at the opposite end. "What is the book?" she asked, "a daily guide so all I have to do is get up in the morning, flip to the right page, and see what I'm supposed to do?"

  "I got a book of names," Jack said, ignoring her discourse.

  "Have you selected one yet?" Grace clipped.

  "It's our child, Grace. Not mostly mine and a little bit yours. Ours," Jack said, turning things around. "We'll both be on board with his name. So if you're through haranguing me about running your life, honey, maybe we can come up with something."

  Grace felt worn down with the man. Now he was being reasonable, even calling her honey, and instead of wanting to shake him senseless, she wanted to cuddle up against him and page through the book and come up with a name for their son. It about drove her nuts how Jack flipped back and forth, jerking her with him. "I'm through," she said.

  Jack grabbed the book of names from the kitchen table and sat beside her, and she leaned against him so she could peer over his shoulder as he flipped to the section on names for boys, and started down the column of names beginning in A...

  After an hour, they were down to three names, none of which they both agreed. "My first choice is still David," Grace said, envisioning a marble statue of Michelangelo's David. "When I was sixteen, Mom and Dad, and my sister, Justine, and I went to Italy, and when we were in Florence I saw Michelangelo's David. I'd never seen a naked man, and seeing one seventeen feet tall was very, umm, educational. He was also supposed to be the perfect form of a man, so that's what I feel like I'm carrying inside me. A perfect baby David."

  "Yeah, well, I also saw the statue when I was in the army over there," Jack said, "and David has a problem, a running joke with Italians because of the size of his pisello."

  "Big?" Grace asked.

  "Boy size," Jack replied. "The explanation is, when a man faces danger it contracts, and since David was confronting Goliath with only a stone, it shriveled."

  "Does that really happen?" Grace asked.

  "Could be," Jack replied, giving her one of his rare smiles.

  "Well, I also remember the tour guide saying that even though David was a Jew he wasn't circumcised," Grace said, finding the perfect opening, "which brings up that subject."

  "A non-issue," Jack said. "Our son will be circumcised."

  "It's not a non-issue to me," Grace replied. "I have a booklet with a DVD describing why it shouldn't be done."

  Jack folded his arms. "When he's in the locker room at school guys will tease him, and a guy can stand up to being teased about almost anything but his cock."

  "You need to watch the DVD," Grace said. "A lot of sexual pleasure is lost with circumcision and for that reason our son should be allowed to make his own decision when he's a man."

  "It needs to be done," Jack insisted. "I know about boys and circumcision. You don't."

  "But I do know about women and circumcision," Grace said. "A survey showed that women preferred uncircumcised men because the foreskin contains a high concentration of nerve endings and when it's removed the man has to thrust harder and deeper to have an orgasm, causing discomfort for the woman. The survey also showed that women were more likely to have multiple orgasms with uncircumcised men."

  "I take it your husband wasn't circumcised," Jack said.

  "Well, no," Grace admitted, "which is why he insisted any sons we had would not be."

  "Have you ever had sex with a circumcised man?" Jack asked, face rigid.

  A guy can stand up to being teased about almost anything but his cock.

  "Umm, no," Grace admitted, realizing too late it was an affront to Jack, implying he couldn't bring pleasure to a woman because he was circumcised. "But this isn't about you or me, it's about our son and the pain he'd go through during circumcision, and what he and his wife might miss in the way of sexual pleasure later in his life."

  "Look. Sex for circumcised males isn't a problem," Jack snapped. "I haven't had any complaints from women."

  "Alright then," Grace said. "If you insist on having it done then I'll insist you be there to watch. As for names, if you don't want David then you decide."

  Jack looked troubled, like their disagreement bothered him. Like maybe he really did want them to be together on things. But after a few moments, his brows drew together like he had an idea, and he said, "What about Adam? That was my father's name and he was a great man. It would make my mom happy."

  Grace held Jack's expectant gaze. Adam. She liked that idea. What's more, she liked the name. "Why didn't you think of that before now?" she asked. "It's the perfect name."

  Jack looked at her long and hard, as if he was deliberating about something, which he confirmed when he said, "If you give me that book I'll read it, and maybe watch the DVD."

  "Thank you," Grace replied. Before leaving, she took one last look around the room. The urge to clean the place was even stronger. Eyeing Jack, she said, "Could I tidy up around here?"

  "Are you considering moving in then?" Jack asked.

  Grace shrugged. "Making the place tidier might give me more incentive."

  "Then I'll get Flo to come over."

  "No," Grace said. "I'm tired of sitting and I want to get some exercise, and I'm fine now."

  Jack sighed. "Okay, but I will carry you back to the lodge since... I want to." He lifted her in his arms and headed for the lodge. And Grace felt like screaming as she wrapped her arms around his neck and settled against his chest, because now she felt like kissing the man senseless.

  At the lodge, Grace gave Jack the booklet on circumcision and said, "I'm glad you're willing to read this. The DVD's here." She flipped open the back cover, displaying a pocket with a DVD.

  Jack took the book but held onto her hand, his face troubled as he toyed with her wedding rings. "If you want to find another husband," he said, "you need to get rid of these."

  "I will after Adam's born," Grace replied, deciding to start using his name. "It seemed right to wear the rings Marc gave me since I was pregnant with his baby. Well, when I was pregnant with his baby. Now, I don't like being pregnant and looking like I'm not married."

  "You're still in love with your husband," Jack said, continuing to look at the rings.

  "I'll always love Marc," Grace replied, "but it doesn't mean I won't love again. I loved being m
arried, and keeping a home, and feeling loved, and curling up with my husband in bed and making love, and I want to one day have everything I lost."

  Jack looked up from the rings, and said in a cynical voice, "Well, if you find the man you're looking for and he happens to be circumcised, don't tell him it makes a difference. If you don't have an orgasm he'll wonder if he's pumping too hard, and if you do, he'll wonder if you're faking." He dropped her hand and started for the door.

  "Jack?" she called after him, as he was about to leave. He glanced back and waited. She shrugged. "I don't necessarily believe everything in the survey."

  Jack eyed her steadily, and replied, "I'll keep that in mind," then walked out.

  But after Jack left, Grace found herself fantasizing about what it would be like to make love to a circumcised man. She also realized she wasn't imagining just any circumcised man. She wanted to prove to Jack that he wasn't lacking in any way, because intuition told her he'd thoroughly invalidate the survey, and she wouldn't have to fake anything to prove her point.

  ***

  While Jack was doing ranch work the following day, and Maureen was with Susan looking after Ricky, Grace went to tidy up Jack's house. Thinking about how she wanted to arrange things, and imagining Jack's face when he walked in, energized her, and when she left the lodge, she left carrying a small bucket and a sponge and a bottle of disinfectant from the bathroom.

  To her surprise, at Jack's house she discovered he had cleaning supplies, including a vacuum cleaner, though from the looks of the place it hadn't been used in months. Behind a door that opened into the living room was a bank of stairs that led to a big attic with a steep roof. A wide dormer with several windows in it stretched across the back. Although there were three bedrooms downstairs, she could imagine the attic being made into a big open room for several boys, or a couple of smaller rooms for boys and girls.

  Realizing where her thoughts had strayed, she descended the stairs and shut the door and concentrated on cleaning Jack's house. In the hallway off the living room she located a closet where she found more cleaning supplies, along with several boxes against the back wall, one labeled clothes for thrift, the other two labeled, household for thrift. Moving the box with clothes aside, she dragged the boxes with the household items into the hallway to go through later.

  She decided to start in Jack's room, but as she bundled up the bed linens to put in the washer, she spotted a book on the bedstand. Picking it up, she saw that it was a book on postpartum depression and realized Jack was concerned about Susan. She too was concerned because Susan could self-abort the baby by any number of methods, and postpartum depression would no longer be an issue.

  Wanting to put out of her mind thoughts of Susan killing Marc's baby, she set the book aside, bundled the first load of dirty clothes into the washer, then started clearing the sink and counters and table, and every available surface that could hold a cup, mug or dish, and filled the dishwasher. Finding a stash of paper bags, she gathered outdated magazines and bagged them, along with all the old newspapers scattered about in disheveled piles. What stood out most about Jack's house was that it was stripped of all décor. No homey touches. No pictures on the walls.

  A place to hang my hat...

  Too true, Grace thought, and decided she'd change it into a place for Jack to hang his hat, and sit by the fire with her in the evening, or at a kitchen table cleared of clutter, and come to know the warmth and love a real home embraced. The term, a woman's touch, had never been clearer. There were no signs of any woman in Jack's house. Or in his life.

  While she cleaned, Grace was amazed at her level of energy, and in less than three hours, she had the place in reasonable order. She'd also opened the boxes for the thrift shop and found bowls, and candle holders, and flower vases, and a figurine of two swans with their necks and heads forming the shape of a heart. She placed it on the mantel beside the clock, which she'd wound, and was ticking away. Then she placed the candle holders on the dining room table on each side of an attractive Italian-style compote.

  Weary, but happy with what she'd accomplished, she went to Jack's bedroom and lay on the bed for a few minutes. Sinking her head into his pillow, now covered with a clean pillow case, she closed her eyes, intending to take a little short nap...

  Sometime later Grace awakened when she felt the mattress slant and a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?" Jack asked.

  She glanced up at Jack and saw a dark look on his face. "You look mad," she said.

  "Not mad. Annoyed."

  "Same thing. Why? You said I could tidy things up."

  "You didn't tidy. You cleaned the whole damn house."

  "I wanted it nice."

  "I told you I'd get it cleaned."

  Grace pulled herself up to sit against the pillows. "Okay, what's really pissing you off? Is it that you like living in a pig sty, or maybe you miss having dishes with lab cultures in them."

  "Why did you drag all the stuff out of the box in the closet?" Jack asked.

  "To make the place look like a home!" Grace cried. "The box said it was for the thrift shop, so what difference does it make? You want to bring our baby here, and you want me here for... for... I really don't know why. But you're the most impossible man I've ever met. And if you'll get off the bed, I want to go home."

  "To your place?" Jack asked, alarmed.

  "No," Grace snapped, "though I have no idea why I'm staying here. Just walk me back to the lodge. I'm tired." She started to get up, but felt a little lightheaded.

  "You can barely stand," Jack said. "I'll carry you back."

  Grace glared at him. "Don't bother," she said, stubbornly. "I can walk."

  "Like hell you can." Jack picked her up and carried her out of the house, while Grace wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him, trying to ignore his warm breath on her face, and the muscular arms cradling her, and the fact that she found herself both loving and hating this man. But if he expected her to ever clean so much as a cobweb in his house, he'd have to beg her forgiveness, and tell her he was sorry, and make an effort to appreciate what she'd done for him during the course of an entire afternoon!

  In her bedroom, Jack lowered her to the bed, and said, "I'll have Flo put all the stuff back in the box so I can get rid of it."

  "Fine!" Making Jack's house into a home was an impossible task, Grace decided, and vowed to eclipse all thoughts of... anything. "I'll try to step over the mess when I come. If I come."

  "The house is fine," Jack said. "I just don't want it cluttered with a lot of junk."

  "I get the picture," Grace replied. "Now please just go."

  "We'll talk tomorrow," Jack said.

  "I don't think so," Grace replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to finish my nap." She punched the pillow and plopped her head on it and shut her eyes to block the sight of Jack because she knew now he wasn't a man she wanted on a permanent basis. Far from it. But it didn't stop her from wanting him to hold her again, and kiss her, and…

  She cut that thought off sharp.

  Later that afternoon Grace started to leave her room, but hearing Jack and his mother talking quietly in the great room, she decided to wait until Jack left before spending time with his mother. She was about to close the door when she heard Maureen calling Jack down in muted tones. Listening from the hallway, she heard Maureen say in a hushed tone, "You owe Grace an apology. Your house looked livable for the first time in years. Grace must have worked hours, and in her condition. As for all the things she dragged out of the boxes... you did ask her to stay in your house until the baby comes."

  "To stay in my house, not drag out the past and display it all over the place."

  "Then get rid of the stuff," Maureen said, her voice agitated. "You need to put your bitterness aside and let the past go. It can't be changed and it's eating away at you, but because of a mix-up at a fertility clinic you've been given a chance to start a new family. Your unborn son is a gift, Jack, but he comes with a mother."


  "I know. That's why I'm moving Grace to my place," Jack said. "I'll give her the master bedroom so she has her own bath and privacy, and I'll move into the extra bedroom so I'll be around when it's time for her to deliver, and I'll be around afterwards too."

  "You think you're moving her here because you made up your mind you would," Maureen replied, "but Grace has no intention of moving."

  "She's already changing her mind," Jack said. "That's why she cleaned my house."

  "And if she doesn't move there?" Maureen asked. "Do you plan to let her walk out of your life?"

  "She can't," Jack replied. "I'm petitioning the court for joint custody."

  "Or, you could do right by her and marry her," Maureen said. "She's a lovely woman and she's ready to move on with her life, but she won't sit around waiting for you to come to your senses. The problem is, you want your son but not his mother because you think it will keep your son safe and fix the past, but it doesn't work that way. You've made a shrine out there behind your house and you can't seem to get beyond it, but right here, in this house, you have a future with your unborn son and his mother. Don't throw it away."

  "I'll do what it takes to keep my son here," Jack said, "but it won't include marriage." He left the house, and a few minutes later, Grace heard his truck start up.

  That iron fence behind Jack's house—that shrine, as his mother called it—held the secret to Jack's bitterness, and Grace felt a compelling need to know what it was.

  After hearing footsteps in the hallway, and the door to Maureen's bedroom suite close, Grace slipped into a jacket and crept out of her room and left the lodge.

  CHAPTER 7

  Grace tried to prepare herself for what she might find within the iron fence, but when she opened the gate and stepped inside, she was totally unprepared to find a single headstone with the name, Jackson Allen Hansen, Jr. written across its polished facade. The dates showed Jack's son had been four months old when he died, three years before. An inscription along the bottom of the marker read: SORELY MISSED BY HIS FATHER. No mention of a mother. Nor had Jack or anyone else talked about Jack having a wife. But here lay a baby, missed only by his father. Which explained the cloak of sadness surrounding Jack. But a mother was missing from the picture, which had to be an added weight on Jack's shoulders, for whatever reason. She tried to recall some of what she'd overheard Jack's mother saying to Jack.