He still couldn’t marry her.
“What about sex?”
She blushed, looked away. She didn’t say a word. Con had never seen Robbie speechless. He might have enjoyed the moment if he wasn’t hating it so much.
“I’m a man, not a monk.” He pushed his advantage.
“I know that.” She still wasn’t looking at him.
“We can’t get married, Robbie.”
She lit another cigarette, watching the tip of it glow. “Could you be discreet?”
“What?”
“When you have your women, couldn’t you be discreet? You know, make sure no one I knew ever heard about it?”
“This is asinine.” He was talking about his sex life with Robbie. They’d talked about everything else in their lives, but they never ever talked about sex. Now he knew why.
He took another swig of beer.
“Okay.” She gave him an awkward grin, obviously finding the conversation as embarrassing as he did. “I’ll be discreet, too.”
Con almost choked on his beer. She’d be discreet? She was planning to sleep with other men while she was married to him?
And then another thought occurred to him. Robbie had sex? He felt pretty damn foolish, but he’d never seen her in that light. He hadn’t pictured her as virginal, exactly, he just hadn’t pictured her that way at all.
“So when you think we should do it?” she asked.
Do it? She wanted to have sex with him? Robbie and him?
“How about July third?” she continued. “That would give me two weeks to arrange enough of a wedding to convince Karen Smith we’re legit. And I have that long weekend off over the Fourth so we could use those days to get me moved in before I have to be back at work.”
The wedding. She was back to the damn wedding. Not sex. Which was just as well. He couldn’t even think about Robbie and—
“What about your parents?” he asked, suddenly figuring out how he was going to talk her out of this craziness. They’d never in a million years convince her parents that he and Robbie had suddenly fallen in love.
“They’ll be there of course. It would kill them if we got married without them.”
“It would kill them to hear what you’re suggesting.”
Con could just imagine her father’s reaction when he heard that Robbie wanted to marry him. Phoenix Police Captain Stan Blair knew what a messed-up kid Con had been, knew how little he really had to offer. Which was why Con had never given the man any reason to worry about him and his daughter. Con had always been welcome in their home, which meant more to Con than anyone would ever know, and he didn’t want to lose that.
Robbie laughed at him. “Sometimes you’re so obtuse, Randolph. Mom’ll be ecstatic. She’s always hoped we’d get married. And Dad’ll just be glad to know we’re finally getting on with it.”
The nicotine must have gone to her head. “You’re crazy, Rob. Lying won’t work with me and you know it. You tell your dad you’re marrying me and he’ll be at my door with his gun pulled.”
“He retired from the force last year, Con, you know that. He doesn’t carry a gun anymore.”
“They aren’t going to like it, Robbie.”
“You leave them up to me. Trust me. It’ll be fine. Now is July third OK for you?”
Con had no idea whether July third was OK for him. He couldn’t consider this. He just couldn’t.
“They’d have to know the truth,” he said.
“No! No one’s going to know.” She was sounding her bossiest. “In the first place, the truth would bother them, and in the second place, social services is going to be questioning everyone before they give Joey to us. We can’t take any chances.”
God. The woman had an answer for everything. Every damn thing. Except one. He couldn’t marry her.
“You going to let them take Joey, Con? You going to let them give him away?”
“No.” That was the one thing he was absolutely sure of. The boy was his. He was going to raise him.
“Then clear your calendar for July third. And next time Karen Smith calls, invite her to the wedding.”
STAN AND SUSAN Blair lived in Sedona. They’d moved to the small Arizona artists’ community shortly after Stan’s retirement from the Phoenix police force. Robbie had missed having her parents close by at first, but she always enjoyed the two-hour drive to Sedona. Or she had until this time.
This Sunday, the barren desert land that stretched for miles and miles between Phoenix and Sedona failed to occupy her imagination. Instead of the pioneer gold miners and Indian families who’d once traipsed across the unforgiving land, all she could think about was the news she had for her parents. And the cigarette she wanted.
She was going to marry Con. Oh, he hadn’t agreed yet. But he would. Because of Joey. Her parents would be delighted of course. She hadn’t been lying when she’d assured Con of that. But only if they believed she and Con were in love. Which was why she was making this trip alone. Con would have insisted on coming along if he’d known what she was up to. He’d never have left her to face her parents alone, especially when he really expected the scene to be ugly.
But it was going to be hard enough to reveal her love for Con to her parents. She didn’t want to do it in front of him. She wanted him as far away as humanly possible. Because while he’d see her act loving in the coming weeks for Joey’s sake, he’d think it was only that—an act. But today, while she was convincing her parents, there would be no pretending.
She was actually going to marry Con. There were times in the past few days when she’d had to pull herself right down out of the clouds at the thought. Marriage to Con was what she’d wanted more than anything else since the first stages of puberty had hit her.
But not like this. Never like this. Yes, she would wear his ring. Have his name. Share his home. But not his bed. Instead, she’d be home alone in his house when he went to other women’s beds. And she’d have to pretend that she didn’t care what he’d done when he came home.
And she’d do it because she couldn’t face the alternative. She couldn’t offer herself to Con and have him turn her down. It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t attractive to men. She was too aggressive, too bossy. She didn’t wear the right clothes, didn’t laugh at the right things. She didn’t giggle at all. And she liked being on top.
His friendship was one of the most important things in her life; he brought her more happiness than any-one else ever had. And she’d lose it all if she was ever stupid enough to ask him for something he couldn’t give her, if she tried to give him something he didn’t want.
If she’d had her choice, she’d rather never marry Con than marry him under these circumstances: She wasn’t a complete fool. She knew she was letting herself in for a load of hurt. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t let him lose Joey. She couldn’t lose Joey. Sure, Con had said she could mother the baby without marrying him. But that might prove difficult when Joey belonged to another family.
Besides, as much as the marriage would hurt at times, it would help, too. Not only would she feel comfortable in the social circle at work, but she’d never again lie in bed at night, knowing that if she got sick, or heard a strange noise, there’d be no one around to call out to.
Life was good.
Her parents owned a condo that backed on the foot-hills of the breathtaking Red Rock Mountains. Pulling into the driveway, Robbie thought how lucky her parents were to have been able to retire in such a gorgeous area.
Little Joey would be lucky, too, coming here for visits during his growing-up years—
Robbie froze, her hand still on her keys as the ramifications of what she was doing really hit home. She was not only going to be Con’s wife, she was going to be a mother. Excitement ran through her, giving her goose bumps. Only to be chased away by a surge of panic.
In a few short weeks, if all went well, she was going to have a child to raise. She’d often imagined herself as a mother, had woven wonderful dreams of
how it would be. But this wasn’t pretense or make-believe. She and Con were going to be parents. With another life to consider, to care for, every moment of every day.
And she was not only about to tell her parents she was going to be married, she’d be telling them they were going to be grandparents. She rested her fore-head on the steering wheel as the enormity of what she’d set in motion finally sank in. Could she do it? Could she change so many lives simply because, to her, it seemed the only way?
“You OK, girl?”
Robbie jumped as her father opened the door of her truck and peered in, his weathered brow creased.
“Fine, Pop. Just getting up the guts to tell you something.” She’d always been straight with her father, just as he’d always been with her.
“Best way is just to say it, girl,” he said, leaning both hands on the edge of the door and continuing to watch her. “But it might be good to come on in out of the heat. Let your mother get you a glass of iced tea. Is this something she can hear, too?”
“Yep. And you’re right. Let’s go get it over with. What’s Mom doing?”
“Sitting on the porch with her sewing. Making some fancy tablecloth or something.”
He held the door for Robbie as she grabbed her fanny pack and climbed out of the truck.
“You’re not sick or anything, are you?” he asked, taking a closer look.
She’d done what she could with her hair and put on her best tank top with a pair of khaki shorts, but she’d had a couple of sleepless nights. She knew she didn’t look her best. “No, Pop. I’m not sick. Let’s go find Mom.”
She followed her father through the cool tiled house to the enclosed air-conditioned porch in back. Robbie had loved the room from the first. It had a great view, and now she looked out over the expanse of land, hoping to catch a glimpse of a coyote or roadrunner or even a family of quail. Anything to avoid her mother’s knowing eyes for one last second.
Susan Blair jumped up, dropping her stitchery in a pile on the couch behind her. “Robbie, dear! You’re early.” She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek and a hug before stepping back to examine her.
“You look tired, Robbie. You haven’t been getting enough sleep, I bet. What’s wrong?”
It never changed. Susan’s self-appointed role in life was to look after her husband and only child, and while the attention had sometimes felt suffocating during her teenage years, Robbie adored her mother. She adored both her parents. Always had. Maybe because she’d always had Con’s to compare them to.
“Mom. Pop, come sit down.”
They sat Her mother beside her on the couch, her father in his recliner across from them. But he didn’t recline. He sat forward, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.
“What is it, girl?” he asked. They both looked at her, worry lining their faces.
“Con and I are getting married.”
Shock held them immobile. They stared at her as if waiting for more. She didn’t know what else to tell them.
The few seconds of silence that met her announcement seemed interminable. Robbie was sure they could see straight into her heart, that they knew Con didn’t love her, couldn’t possibly ever love her. How had she ever thought people, especially her parents, would actually believe this charade?
“Well, it’s about damn time,” Stan said finally as a slow grin spread across his sun-lined face.
“Married, Robbie? You’re getting married? To Con?” Her mother’s voice broke and suddenly she was laughing and crying at once, pulling Robbie into her arms. And then sitting back to search her daughter’s face once again. “You love him, don’t you, Robbie, love him with all your heart?”
“I do,” Robbie said, feeling like crying herself as she finally admitted aloud what she’d known most of her life.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Where’s Con?”
“Where will it be?”
“Why isn’t he here with you?”
Her parents clamored to know everything. Robbie laughed and answered them as best she could.
“The wedding’s July third and Con’s working today. But I didn’t want to wait any longer to tell you…”
They continued talking about the wedding until lunchtime. Susan had a lot of suggestions, as Robbie had known she would, and she gladly turned over the many details to her mother’s capable hands. With only two weeks to plan the wedding, the ceremony would have to be very basic, but with any luck it would be enough to convince social services.
She just wasn’t sure Con would agree to the white wedding her mother was insisting on.
As they finished their enchilada feast Robbie said, “There’s something else I need to tell you.” She’d put it off as long as she could.
Both of her parents looked up expectantly.
“Con has a son.”
“He has a what?”
“Who?”
“Con has a son,” Robbie replied. “He’s six months old and his name’s Joey.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?” Susan asked, obviously hurt.
“He didn’t know himself until a week ago.” She wasn’t sure how her parents were going to react to this part, but there was no way to hide the truth from them. They loved Con. They’d understand, just as she had. And take little Joey into their hearts.
“Remember that case of his I told you about a year ago last March?”
“The one where the woman was killed,” Stan said, nodding.
Robbie proceeded to tell them, in a little less detail than she’d heard it, about the circumstances leading up to Joey’s conception and subsequent appearance in Con’s life.
“The poor little dear,” Susan said when at last Robbie fell silent. “Have you met his foster mother? Is she taking good care of him?”
“We haven’t met her, no. But I think she’s looking after him just fine. He was clean, well fed…”
They all knew that Joey was probably getting the finest of care, but still, it couldn’t be enough. Not nearly enough.
“I can’t imagine Con took it well, having the child in foster care,” Stan said.
Robbie thought of the stupor she’d found Con in last week—one that had nothing to do with alcohol.
“No. But you know Con. He’d holding it all inside. Though he’s making sure no time is wasted until he has custody.”
“When will you get the child?” Susan asked, her eyes full of warm concern—and a bit of grandmotherly anticipation.
Robbie shrugged. “There’s a lot of red tape to get through. Sometime in July, we’re hoping,” she said. There was no reason to worry her parents with the battle that still awaited them regarding Joey’s guardianship. She and Con were going to get the baby. There was no other alternative.
ROBBIE’S FATHER followed her back out to the porch after Susan shooed them away from the lunch dishes.
“You sure you’re happy, girl? You aren’t just doing this for Con’s sake?”
Robbie plopped down on the couch and nodded. “I’m sure. I love him, Pop. I always have.”
“It’s going to be different being his wife. You know that, don’t you?”
Robbie blushed. Was her father fixing to give her “the talk” at the tender age of thirty-three? “Mom told me about the birds and the bees when I was ten, Pop,” she said, grinning at him.
“You need a light?” he asked, grabbing his lighter off the table.
Robbie shook her head. “I quit”
“Good for you!” Stan reached for his pipe, his alternative to the three packs of cigarettes a day he used to smoke, packed it and lit up.
“I need to say this, Robbie.” He paused, looking more at his pipe than at her. “I raised you to be like me, to have the courage and the conviction to know your own mind and to stand by it, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I did too good a job.”
Robbie frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Con’s going to want a woman in his bed, Robbie. Not one of the guys.”
“You don’t think I’m a woman, Pop?”
“Of course I do. You’re one hell of a woman. But you’re a lot like your old man, too. I’m just saying that maybe you should tone down a bit now that you’re getting married. You’ll have a man to stick up for you now.”
“You want me to change who I am?”
“Don’t get me wrong, honey. I love who you are. I’m proud as hell of what you’ve become. I just want to see this marriage work.”
“So all that stuff you told me about being my own person, about not being afraid to be who I am—even if that’s different—about fighting for what I feel is right, about speaking my own mind—all that was just until I found myself a man to take care of me?” She couldn’t believe this was her father talking.
“I want you to be happy, Robbie,” he said, his eyes glistening.
Even her own father knew she didn’t have what it took to attract and keep a man. But she’d been who she was for thirty-three years. She couldn’t change that now. Not for anyone. Not even for Con.
“I’m happy, Pop,” she said. But she wasn’t sure either one of them believed that.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE NEEDED A CRIB. The baby had to have a place to sleep. Diapers, too. Joey probably wouldn’t come with them, like the doll had.
Con sat at his breakfast bar Tuesday night after work making a list. He hadn’t seen Robbie since Friday. Hadn’t heard from her all weekend. Not that either of them were in the habit of checking in with each other, but they hadn’t gone this many days without talking since he’d returned to Phoenix after his stint at the FBI academy in Quantico, Virginia.
Damn. He was probably going to need a load of stuff. Bottles, something to go in them, clothes. He added all that to the list. Was regular soap OK for babies? And he’d need something disposable to wipe Joey off with, too. The doll had come with a little cloth, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be using anything he’d have to clean afterward, and paper towels were probably a little rough. But maybe they’d do at first, if he wet them down. He put disposable cloths down, anyway, just in case he happened to run across some.
Shotgun Baby Page 6