The Stranger in Her Bed

by Janet Chapman

  Bear answered with a soft whine and licked her chin. Anna buried her face in his neck with a sigh. "I know. I know," she whispered. She scrambled to her feet. "Let's take a walk down to the lake and see how close the ice is to going out," she suggested, trying to sound excited as she returned to the bathroom and quickly dressed.

  She exited through the back door, pleased to see that Bear's mood immediately perked up once they were outside— just as hers did when she took a deep breath of the fresh spring air laced with pine and spruce. Okay, she thought, as she headed down the path to the lake. This was only a minor setback. So what if everyone knew who she was? She'd killed off Abigail Fox once, she could do it again.

  But alone? Eighteen years ago she'd had the entire Segee clan showering her with so much love, she'd been too busy trying to keep up with them to worry about what had happened, where she'd come from, or even where she was going.

  "But I can't keep using them as a crutch," she told Bear, rubbing his head as they stood staring out at the ice, which had melted away from the shoreline a good hundred yards. "I can run back to the safe little world they created for me, or I can face my past here and now and be the granddaughter Gramps had hoped I'd become when he gave me up." She walked out onto the old dock, sat with her feet dangling over the end, and wrapped one arm around Bear's neck. "So what do you think? Will you help me? I can't move you to a new home at your age, and I would never abandon you."

  Bear licked her cheek, his tail thumping the dock.

  "Then it's settled. Together we'll turn Fox Run into the best specialty lumber mill on both sides of the border."

  "Anna! Anna!"

  Bear stood at the familiar voice and barked loudly.

  Ethan was running down the path from the house, his shirt half buttoned and his boots unlaced, his panicked gaze searching the shoreline. When he spotted her sitting on the dock, he came to a sliding halt and seemed to instantly relax— though he did eye her suspiciously.

  "Ah, would you like me to cook you some breakfast?" he asked, finishing buttoning his shirt. "I think there's still some bacon left."

  Anna stood up and walked toward him. "Thank you for bringing me home last night," she said. "And I'll cook you breakfast before you leave." She started walking toward the house. "And I'll refund the rest of your lease just as soon as the bank opens tomorrow," she added as he fell into step beside her. "How long have you known?"

  "Quite a while. When were you going to tell me?"

  She stopped and faced him. "Never."

  "Why?"

  Anna waved a dismissive hand. "What would have been the point, since Abby Fox no longer exists? Besides, it doesn't matter who I was, or even who I'll be ten years from now. The past and future don't define a person, only the present."

  Ethan started walking again. "So let me get this straight— you never intended to tell me because you don't see our past affecting our future? Have I got it right?"

  "No, I don't see our past affecting our present," she clarified, stopping with her foot on the bottom step of the porch. "I never think about the future, since it's an exercise in futility most of the time. Stuff happens, and life changes direction in the blink of an eye."

  He rubbed his forehead. "It's too early for philosophical talk, Segee. You're giving me a headache."

  "Then go home, Ethan. You've done your good deed."

  He got that suspicious look again. "You're high-tailing it to Quebec the moment I leave, aren't you?"

  "No. I'm going back to work on my mill."

  "And your mother coming on Friday? You're telling me you're going to be right here, waiting to greet her with open arms?"

  Anna walked up the steps onto the porch, but stopped at the open doorway. "What happened to my door?"

  "I didn't have the key last night."

  "Oh." She looked up at him. "I haven't spoken to Madeline in over eight years. I don't even know which number husband she's on now."

  "How come she and Samuel never stayed in contact with you?"

  "That was my father's idea. He only agreed to come get me if Gramps and Madeline promised to cut me out of their lives."

  "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

  "Daddy's an extreme sort of guy. Segee Logging and Lumber wouldn't be what it is today if he was anything else." She shrugged. "Apparently after Gramps explained what had happened to me, Dad came down the very next day and somehow got them to agree to his conditions. I never spoke to Gramps ever again, and Madeline has only called me twice— on my sixteenth and twenty-first birthdays."

  "And you never once tried to contact Samuel?"

  She finally walked in the house, but stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to him. "It would have devastated my father if I had. And I was eleven when I left. For years, I thought Gramps had sent me away because what had happened at the lake was my fault. And by the time I realized differently, I… I was… too much time had passed," she finished, turning away.

  "Giving you up must have been hard on Samuel."

  Anna eyed the stack of journals sitting on the coffee table. "Yes, he loved me very much."

  "I'd like permission to read his journals," Ethan said, walking over and picking up the one he'd left on the couch. He opened it and leafed through the pages. "I started reading them last night, but quickly realized they're very personal."

  "I don't want them leaving here," she said, taking the notebook from him and putting it with the others. "And if you know they're letters to me from Samuel, why would you want to read them?"

  "Because I think they might give us some insight into what your intruders are looking for."

  She shook her head. "I'll keep that in mind as I read, but I don't want them leaving here," she repeated.

  He walked into the kitchen. "You're a little slow catching on this morning, Segee. I'm not leaving."

  "Yes, you are," she said, scowling when he opened the fridge and started pulling out bacon and eggs and setting them on the counter. "I'm fine now. I just got caught off guard last night. And I sure as heck don't need a babysitter who thinks I would throw myself in the lake."

  He straightened to glare at her over the fridge door. "I wasn't worried you'd jumped in the lake. I thought you might run off to Quebec."

  "I'm not running away."

  "That's good," he said, his head buried in the fridge again. "Because we have less than a month to plan our wedding."

  "Wedding?" she choked out.

  "Yep," he said calmly, closing the fridge and carrying the butter over to the stove. "Last night I told everyone we're planning a May wedding."

  "For God's sake, why would you say something like that!"

  He turned with his fists on his hips, his expression defensive. "Because it was all I could think of at the time."

  "Why did you have to think of anything?"

  "You didn't see their faces, Anna. And you have no idea how everyone around here still feels about Madeline. The woman slept with half the men in this town before she took off to greener pastures."

  "What has that got to do with me or our 'wedding?' " She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I'm never getting married," she said with forced calmness. "So you'll just have to tell everyone it was a misunderstanding on your part."

  "Never?" he repeated incredulously.

  "Yes, never."

  His eyes narrowed. "So if you happen to fall in love with someone, you intend to have a fifty-year affair with him?"

  Realizing she was getting defensive, Anna took another calming breath. "This conversation is crazy. I realize your knight-in-shining-armor complex made you blurt out that we're getting married," she said, "but saying you're going to marry me will only prove to everyone that I'm following in Madeline's footsteps and that you're about to become my first pigeon." She laughed a bit hysterically. "No, I take that back. Madeline was on husband number three by the time she was twenty-nine. Now that they know who I am, everyone will assume I left a trail of husbands in Quebec and ca
me down here to look for more victims."

  He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. "So you'll make sure no one can say you're just like your mother by never getting married," he softly surmised, only to suddenly frown. "What do you mean, my 'knight-in-shining-armor complex'?"

  Anna blinked at him. "You really don't see it? Ethan, you keep rushing in to rescue women."

  "Women? Plural? Who in hell have you been talking to? I did my 'rescue' thing eighteen years ago, and admittedly again last night, but you're the only woman I seem to have a problem with." He puffed up his chest. "You actually see me as a knight in shining armor?"

  "Rusted armor," she clarified, feeling a blush climb into her cheeks. "And what about Pamela Sant?"

  In less time than it took her to blink, Ethan went from amused to menacing. "What about her?"

  "I know you loved her," she whispered, wanting to kick herself for bring up Pamela's name. "And that she was pregnant when she died."

  "And did you also happen to hear that I killed her?"

  "I heard she missed a turn and crashed into Oak Creek, and that you tried to save her but couldn't," she said, not quite able to meet his eyes.

  "Look at me, Anna."

  It took some effort, but she lifted her gaze to his.

  "Pamela was pregnant, but with Parker Sikes's child, not mine," he told her. "I'd stopped seeing Pam a couple of months earlier." He pushed away from the counter and walked up to her. "And yes, we did argue that night, when she asked to meet me someplace where people wouldn't see us. So we met in an old gravel pit up by our hauling artery."

  "Why did she want to talk to you, if she'd broken it off?"

  "To ask me what to do. Parker was in Boston at the time, interviewing for a job, and Pam was afraid if she told him she was pregnant, he'd want her to move to Boston with him."

  "And she didn't want to go?"

  "Bangor was too big a city for Pamela. She was scared to death of moving to Boston. But she was even more scared of staying here and having a baby without a husband."

  "Why does everyone think Pamela was pregnant with your baby?" Anna asked.

  "Because I never said differently," he said, dropping the bacon into the frypan.

  "Why not?"

  "To what end? Pam was dead, so it really didn't matter. And Parker was shaken up enough by her death. They'd been high school sweethearts, and I think he never stopped loving her."

  "But you could have gone to jail for manslaughter."

  His back to her, he broke eggs into a bowl. "If the trial hadn't gone my way, I'd have spoken up."

  Anna felt like kicking him. "Now do you see what I mean? You've got this compelling need to protect everyone. Including some guy who got your ex-girlfriend pregnant."

  He turned around to face her, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter. "And since when is it a crime to care?" he asked softly.

  "When your own life gets screwed in the process," she snapped. "When you're only twelve years old and you get beaten to a bloody pulp, when you stand trial for manslaughter for something that wasn't your fault, and when you tell half the town that you're getting married next month!" She walked over to the stove and turned off the burner under the bacon. "Go home, Ethan. I want to be alone."

  He turned the burner back on, then returned to fixing the eggs. "You're just going to have to pretend I'm not here," he said. "Because I'm not leaving."

  "I am not running off to Quebec," she said through gritted teeth.

  He shrugged. "Still, I think I'll stick around just in case you change your mind."

  "Why?"

  He turned and faced her again. "Maybe because I'd like to see what it feels like for someone to rescue me."

  Anna looked blank. "What?"

  "I'll admit I didn't exactly think it through last night, but I was trying to head off a problem for you. But now it seems that I'm the one with the problem. My reputation in this town isn't exactly sterling, and if we don't get married next month, I might as well head to Quebec with you."

  Anna rolled her eyes. "Of all the— Ethan, you just have to do a bit of damage control and it will all blow over in a couple of months. You can't really expect us to get married just to save your reputation."

  He shrugged again. "It's a viable solution."

  Anna spun on her heel and headed into the living room, deciding she'd had enough. She ran upstairs to her bedroom and rummaged in the bottom of her closet for her work clothes. The man was certifiably insane. Did he actually think she'd marry him just to save his reputation?

  I'd like to see what it feels like for someone to rescue me.

  Anna plopped down on the floor. Was that really how Ethan felt, or was it just a line to get her to cooperate? But what did he need her cooperation for?

  To continue their affair?

  Or… was this payback for not telling him who she was?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ethan spent the rest of Sunday morning on the couch, reading Samuel's journals while Anna and Bear were out at the saw house, likely up to their ears in grease. He should have felt guilty for not helping, but he was too intrigued by Samuel's journals. Besides, Anna obviously needed to vent her frustration on something, and better a rusted old engine than his rusted suit of armor.

  He couldn't decide if she was angry at him for refusing to walk out of her life, or at herself for not handling last night's public disclosure as well as she would have liked. Then there was the little matter of their upcoming wedding— which was why he'd hidden the shotgun under the couch.

  He smiled as he turned the delicate journal page that was more ink than paper. Imagine deciding never to get married. For someone who didn't care to dwell on the future, Anna had obviously thought long and hard on that particular aspect of it. Which meant he had three weeks to change her mind— because for some reason he refused to dwell on himself, the idea of their getting married was starting to appeal to him.

  Ethan frowned and turned back the page to read the last paragraph again. He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight, vaguely noticing when the back door slammed and Anna came into the kitchen. He stood up, still scanning the page as he walked out to her. "Did you know that Samuel sold a good chunk of Fox Run to Joshua Coots to raise cash to restore the mill?"

  He looked up when Anna didn't immediately answer and found her guzzling a tall glass of water. And yup, she had smudges of grease on her cheek and chin. Ethan glanced down at Bear and saw even the dog had grease on one ear.

  "No, you've got it wrong," she finally said, setting down her glass and walking over to look at the journal in his hand. "Joshua Coots sold Gramps the thousand acres that runs from the main road to the lake five years ago." She looked up with a frown. "Frank told me about it last night, and he wasn't happy that his dad sold it for only twelve thousand dollars."

  Ethan closed the journal, keeping the page marked with his finger, and showed her the year written on the cover. "Samuel sold Joshua that piece of land two years after you'd left for Quebec," he explained, opening the journal back up and pointing at one paragraph in particular. "He writes that he hated to give up any of the land, but that he was determined Fox Run would be a working mill again when you inherited it."

  Anna read the paragraph, then reached over his arm and turned back the page to read it again.

  "And here," he said, pointing at the bottom of the next page. "Samuel goes on to tell you that he and Joshua drew up a legal document stating that he could buy back the land for the same price plus twenty percent."

  "So that means Gramps sold that acreage to Joshua for ten thousand dollars sixteen years ago, then bought it back five years ago for twelve thousand?"

  Ethan turned and headed into the living room, going to the coffee table and rummaging through the stack of journals until he found the one dated five years ago. "It would seem so, if that's what Frank told you last night," he said. He opened the book to the first page, quickly scanned
it, and started turning pages. "It wasn't uncommon in that era to barter land back and forth as collateral. My father bought the sporting camps they're living in now, along with the six hundred acres they're sitting on, with the stipulation that the original owners could pick out ten acres from our land closer to town to build their new home. And that was only four years ago."