I'm Having Your Baby?!

by Linda Turner

  He didn’t have to think twice about who to introduce her to first—he took her straight downstairs to Alice Truelove, who lived in the smaller of the two apartments at the back of the mansion. And as he’d hoped, Alice beamed in delight at the sight of Annie by his side and snatched her into her arms for a fierce hug. “I wondered when you were going to get down here and tell me you were back! I saw you and Joe go out to dinner the other night, but I didn’t want to intrude. Lordy, lordy, look at you! I knew this old house would work its magic if you two would just give it enough time. Joe, isn’t she a sight for sore eyes?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she is,” he replied, grinning when Annie couldn’t help returning the small, spry woman’s enthusiastic hug. “I thought it was time I got her down here—she needs a friend she can trust.”

  Quickly and efficiently, he told her the whole story and wasn’t the least surprised when Alice’s faded blue eyes took on a hard gleam. With her plump figure, beautifully lined face, and cloud of stark white hair that she invariably wore twisted up in a bun, she might look a soft pushover of a granny, but she could be tough as nails when she wanted to be.

  “You visit me whenever you want, sweetie,” she told Annie. “I just dare anyone to try and bother you. I’ve got my Colt .45 that my daddy gave me in my bedroom, and you can bet the bank that I know how to use it.”

  “I don’t think you’ll need the peashooter,” Joe drawled, grinning, “but Annie might drop by sometime when I have to take care of some things at the restaurant. Thanks, Alice.”

  “For what?” she sniffed. “You two are like family. You call on me whenever you need me. Since Annie doesn’t remember the stories about the mansion, I can tell them to her all over again.”

  “Later,” Joe laughed, tugging Annie down the hall to the next apartment. “She’ll get back to you later.”

  Over the course of the next few days, he took her around to all their neighbors in the mansion and reintroduced her to them.

  Not surprisingly, it was the women she was most at ease with. She chatted every morning with Mrs. Sanchez across the hall and asked Susan Lucas, a renter who lived downstairs and had just had her second baby two months ago, everything she could think of about pregnancy and babies and parenting. But it was Alice she kept going back to. And true to her word, the old lady spent hours entertaining her with stories about the Lone Star Social Club.

  After one particularly entertaining afternoon, Annie’s eyes were sparkling when she and Joe went to the restaurant for dinner. “How old do you think Alice is?” she asked him after they’d given their orders to the waiter. “I know you said she’s supposed to be the original owner’s granddaughter, but if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was the original owner herself. She knows the names of everyone who ever met and fell in love there all the way back to the turn of the century. But she couldn’t be that old, could she?”

  Joe grinned. “God only knows. From what I hear, she was here long before the Riverwalk was ever thought of.”

  “Do you think that old legend about unmarried renters falling in love is for real? How could it be? It’s just a house.”

  “With a heck of a wallop,” he replied, chuckling. “I can’t explain how it works, but I’ve lived there for nearly six years, and nobody remains single for long. Even Bob Jackson bit the dust, and he was the most hardened bachelor I ever met. He swore when he moved in that the curse wasn’t going to get him, but I’ll be damned if he didn’t elope with his new secretary five months later. Talk about shaking up a few people. One of Jackson’s best friends lived on the first floor and moved out immediately.”

  “So he’s still a bachelor?”

  “Are you kidding? His sister introduced him to her roommate and he found himself walking down the aisle three months later. Last I heard, they had three kids and were expecting another one on Valentine’s Day. And then there was you, of course,” he added. “I took one look at you and knew my days as a bachelor were numbered.”

  He said it teasingly, with a twinkle in his eye, but there was nothing funny about what she’d done to him. She’d turned his life upside down and filled a void that he hadn’t even known was there, and he’d loved her for it. He hadn’t realized how much until she walked out and he’d found himself faced with the emptiness of his own lonely existence.

  He wanted her back, dammit. Wanted back what they’d once had together. Needed back what he’d carelessly let slip through his fingers. But she wasn’t the same woman who married him or even the same one who’d walked out on him. Staring soul deep into her sapphire eyes, he didn’t see how they could ever find their way back to what they had once had. Not if she’d betrayed him with another man.

  “Joe? Are you okay?”

  Lost in his thoughts, he blinked and brought her back into focus to find her frowning at him in concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said in a gravelly voice, then deliberately changed the subject. “So what are you and Phoebe doing tomorrow?”

  “Showing a ranch up by Kerrville,” she said promptly. “A couple from Corpus is driving up to look at it and another one west of Bandera, so we should be gone most of the day. What about you? You going to be at the new place all day?”

  “Probably,” he said, fighting a smile as their food was set before them and the waiter automatically set a bottle of ketchup on the table. Over the last few days, she had developed a fondness for the red stuff that bordered on a craving. Most of the restaurant staff had learned that it didn’t matter what she ordered to eat, she was going to ask for ketchup before the meal was over. “The opening’s just around the corner and there’s still a lot to do. The painters are finishing up in the morning in the dining area, and the kitchen appliances are supposed to be delivered Thursday. The printer’s also delivering the invitations sometime tomorrow, but they still have to be addressed.”

  “I’ll help you if you’ll bring the guest list home,” she promised, digging into her food with gusto. “Why don’t we eat at home tomorrow night and order in a pizza?”

  That was an offer she wouldn’t have made three months ago, not when she was so dead set against him opening another restaurant. Remembering the times she’d accused him of being more concerned with the shape of his business than the condition of their marriage, Joe knew he should tell her about the day she’d left him. If he didn’t, he would be giving her just one more reason to resent him when she got her memory back.

  But he was damned either way, and he hated to ruin the mood when there hadn’t been a tense moment between them in days. The decision made, he said, “Good idea,” and damned the consequences. “Have Phoebe drop you by here when you get back tomorrow and we’ll walk home together.”

  The florist’s box was propped against their front door, but Annie never noticed it. She and Phoebe had driven away from the ranch in Kerrville with a huge contract in hand and should have celebrated, but all Annie had wanted to do was get back to Joe and tell him about her day. She’d missed him. She hadn’t expected that, and she had to admit that the idea shook her. After all, it wasn’t as if she spent every waking moment with him. He had a business to run, not to mention a second restaurant to open, and over the course of the last few days, she’d spent hours at a time with Phoebe and other friends and neighbors while he worked. He couldn’t devote all his time to her, and she didn’t expect him to.

  But today had been different. She’d been gone since morning, and in spite of the fun she’d had with Phoebe, she’d found herself wondering what he was doing, where he was, if he’d given her so much as a second thought since she’d left. Then, when Phoebe had dropped her off at the restaurant and she walked in to discover him in conversation with Drake near the riverfront entrance, her eyes met his and her heart just seemed to stumble.

  A fanciful woman might have thought he was waiting for her, especially when a slow smile quirked up one corner of his mouth the second he saw her. Trapped in the heat of his gaze, she didn’t have a clue if she was fanciful or not. She just
knew that for the first time that she remembered, she was having dinner with her husband alone. There would be no waiters to interrupt them, no old friends to wander in and greet them. It would just be the two of them, like any other married couple, spending a night in at home. Her mouth went dry just at the thought of it.

  He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek that set her skin tingling and her mind jumping forward to the moment when he shut their front door and they were alone. She hardly heard Drake greet her or wish her good-night after Joe collected the invitations for the grand opening to the new restaurant from his office. They started home, and before she was ready for it, they were walking down the second-floor hall to their apartment.

  struggling to get control of the smile that kept breaking out on her face, she told herself that the only reason she was looking forward to spending time alone with him was that this man who called himself her husband was still such a mystery to her. But her wildly thumping heart wasn’t buying that, and she didn’t care. They were only going home, but it felt like a date, and she intended to enjoy herself.

  Turning to face him as they reached their front door, she grinned. “So what do you want on your pizza? Or maybe I should ask what do I want? I do like pizza, don’t I?”

  “Are you kidding?” he chuckled. “You can eat your weight in the stuff. And just for the record, you like sausage and pepperoni…just like I do.” He started to insert the key in the dead bolt, only to stop in surprise as his gaze dropped to the florist’s box propped against the door. “Hey, what’s this?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, eyeing the white box curiously as he bent down to pick it up. “I didn’t order anything. Did you?”

  “No, but it’s got your name on it. Have you got a secret admirer you haven’t told me about?”

  It was, to say the least, an unfortunate choice of words.

  Suddenly realizing what he’d said, he unconsciously dropped his gaze to her slightly rounded stomach, which was barely concealed by her long, thigh-length sweater. In the damning silence that fell between them, they both knew there was a good possibility that over the last few months she’d had not only an admirer, but a lover as well.

  “If I do, I seriously doubt he would be sending me presents here,” she replied quietly. “There must be some mistake.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed, frowning. “Let’s go inside and see what’s in it.”

  He set the invitations on the entrance-hall table as soon as they were inside, then carried the box into the living room and set it on the coffee table. It was harmless-looking cardboard, the kind of box roses came in, but tied with twine. And the card with Annie’s name on it was unsigned. With no florist’s stamp on it there was no way to tell where it had come from.

  “Maybe we should call Sam,” Annie suggested worriedly, chewing on her bottom lip as she sank down onto the couch next to him. “He’d probably want to know about this.”

  “Let’s see what’s in it first,” Joe said, and cut the twine with his pocketknife. “For all we know, it could be a welcome-home present from one of the neighbors who didn’t want you to make a fuss.”

  Knowing what a matchmaker Alice Truelove was, Annie had to admit that it would be just like the old lady to send flowers without signing the card in the hopes that she would mistakenly think they were from her husband. Her mouth softened into a smile. “You’re talking about Alice, aren’t you?”

  He nodded, but it wasn’t flowers in the box. Instead, it was a single piece of cedar, and a dead one at that. The needles on it had long since turned brown. Confused, Joe frowned. “What the hell!”

  Her blood roaring in her ears, Annie stared at the small branch in puzzlement. It was harmless; it couldn’t hurt her. But then Joe picked it up and the scent drifted under her nose, and suddenly her stomach turned over. “Oh, God!”

  “Annie? Honey? What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes wide, her hand pressed to her mouth, she couldn’t answer him. With a muffled moan, she ran for the bathroom. Swearing, Joe threw down the cedar branch and rushed after her.

  She’d been sick every morning, losing the contents of her stomach almost as soon as she crawled out of bed, but even when the nausea was at its worst, it had never been like this. She was violently ill and there wasn’t a damn thing Joe could do but hold her head and curse with worry. Murmuring to her when she was finally spent, he jerked down the toilet lid, helped her sit down, and quickly wet a washcloth. “Just close your eyes and ride it out, sweetheart,” he murmured as he gently wiped her face with the cool cloth. “You’re going to be fine.”

  She should have been—she always had been before. But as a faint bit of color came back into her cheeks, the fine trembling that hit her told her this wasn’t going to be like the other times. “I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered, winding her arms around herself. “I—I don’t know what’s the m-matter with m-me. The s-second I smelled the c-cedar, I j-just got s-so scared I felt I-like someone had p-punched me in the stomach.”

  Swearing, Joe didn’t stop to think, he just scooped her up in his arms and sat back down with her on his lap. When she automatically froze, he knew she was going to fight her way out of his hold any second, but then something in her just seemed to give. With a sob, she collapsed against him and let him hold her, really hold her, for the first time since she’d come home. And in her misery, she had no idea how close she came to destroying him.

  Softly cooing to her, he soothed her with endearments and caresses, and all the while the voice of reason cautioned him to be careful. She was scared and vulnerable, and he was setting himself up for a fall, big-time. Any warm body would do when you were scared, but once she calmed down, she’d shy away from his touch just as she always did.

  But he ached for her, dammit! He didn’t want to. He didn’t like it, but there it was, like it or not. And there was no way he was letting her go as long as she needed him. For now, he found to his surprise, that was enough.

  Chapter 6

  The dream crept out of the darkness like something wicked that only dared to expose itself in the blackest hours of the night. Sweeping over Annie’s defenseless, sleeping body, it swallowed her whole with no warning whatsoever. One second her breathing was slow and steady, her sleep deep and restful, and the next she was being hurtled into the middle of a horrifying nightmare. Her throat clenched tight, she tried to scream, to move, to escape, but fear paralyzed her. Helpless, all she could do was shrink into herself and ride out a terror that had no beginning or end.

  It was dark. God, it was so dark! There were no city lights, no moon, no houses close by, no one to see her. And no one to help her. She wanted to run, to hide, but it was too late for that. Staring down at the shovel in her hands, she started to tremble. How could she do this? How could she not? Swallowing a sob, she drew in a deep breath and deliberately made her mind go blank. Then she began to dig.

  The ground was soft from the rain that had fallen earlier in the evening, the air tangy-sweet with the scent of cedars that surrounded her like a forest. Another time, she might have enjoyed toiling in the earth after an autumn rain. But not now. Not here. This was no garden that she dug; and the deeper and longer the hole got, the sicker she felt. Her fingers wouldn’t stop shaking, and the handle of the shovel kept slipping from her grip, scraping the soft skin of her palm. Once, she almost pitched headlong into the pit and felt her stomach roil. Sweat broke out on her brow, and she wiped it away with a hand that felt as if it would never be steady again.

  Time slowed, then stopped altogether, and torture took on a whole new meaning. With the coppery taste of fear on her tongue, she didn’t allow her attention to wander from the shovel and the dirt. And an ever-deepening hole that yawned like the entrance of Hell at her feet. Then, before she was ready, it was long enough, wide enough, deep enough.

  She stared at it and almost gagged. Merciful God, she couldn’t do this! But she wasn’t given a choice. The cold form lying on the ground next to her rolled into the shallow gra
ve with a soft, sickening thud and landed face up. Glazed, sightless eyes stared unblinkingly up at the night sky.

  A sob lodged in her throat. Her eyes shied violently away, but not before her gaze locked in fascinated horror on the small, fatal bullet hole in the middle of the dead man’s forehead. Inanely, she wondered where all the blood was. There should have been blood.

  Images stirred in her head. Terrible, tormenting images that made her heart stumble in her breast and her throat constrict on a frozen scream. She slammed her eyes shut, but still she could see him, this same man, standing before her, his startled gaze locked on the gun, the sure knowledge in his pale blue eyes that he was looking at his executioner. The gun exploded, and in the next instant, he was flat on his back, much as he was now, his life force draining out of him onto the pavement before he could even ask God to have mercy on his soul.

  And now she had to bury him.

  Oh, God, oh, God. The shovel fell numbly from her fingers, and she couldn’t make herself move to catch it. Her tongue thickened; bile pooled in her mouth. Her flesh crawling, she sank to her knees and cupped her trembling hands in the loose dirt piled next to the grave.

  Don’t look at its face! It’s not real It’s not a man if you don’t look at his eyes. Think about the dirt, the grittiness of it under your nails and covering your skin. When this is all over, you’re going to go home and scrub it off. Then you’ll be clean and all of this will go away like a bad dream.

  Her movements stiff and jerky, she scooped up dirt and tossed it, scooped it and tossed it, and never once looked to see where it landed. Instead, her gaze was fixed, and in her mind, she was already in that shower. She could feel the soap against her bare skin, the water beating down on her, pounding the tension out of her tight shoulders, relaxing her, cleansing her. Just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes.

  But the face. She had to cover the face.

  There was a roaring in her ears. Her fingers curled into the dirt, and the scent of cedar needles and fresh dirt rose to her nose.