His Shotgun Proposal

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Not exactly the best way to start off with my future in-laws, now is it?”

  “You’re not going to marry her, Mac. I know it, Alex knows it, and you know it.”

  “I am,” Mac said, hating the conviction in his voice, hating Abbie for putting him in this damnable position, hating himself for being stupid enough to hand her the opportunity. “And you can go to the bank on that.”

  Cade looked completely bewildered. “Why, Mac? Why not just laugh at the fools for thinking they can force you into a shotgun wedding? What can they do? You’re a Coleman. Hell, you’re a damned prince! Why do you care what anyone else thinks?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Mac said.

  “Me?” Cade took his foot off the running board and swung around to face Mac, hat back, jaw set, angry. “It seems to me that it’s you who’s confused. A few days ago you were positive Abbie was lying about everything from when she got pregnant to the way she brushes her teeth. And suddenly today, she’s having your baby and you’re set on marrying her. What did she do to you last night to change your mind?” Cade held up a hand, palm out. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But I do think you need to figure out why you’re suddenly so ready to believe her.”

  “I don’t believe her,” Mac said, knowing he couldn’t explain even to his twin what had happened, knowing only that he’d rather marry Abbie believing she was a liar than to have her prove it by taking a settlement check as Gillian had done. “But I’m marrying her anyway.”

  Cade opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it abruptly. “Fine. Then I’ll stand up with you and be your best man. Just don’t ask me to be happy about it.”

  “That, at least, won’t be a problem.” Mac turned on his heel and walked away, feeling more alone than he’d ever felt in his life.

  “HERE YOU ARE.” Jessica sounded relieved as she pulled open the door leading to the courtyard and stepped outside, followed by a wan and hesitant Abbie.

  Rose watched the two young women approach the bench where she sat with her sister-in-law. Vi looked up, too, as Jessie and Abbie came toward them, straightened and seemed to make an effort to compose herself. Rose patted her sister-in-law’s shoulder supportively as she greeted the girls. “Hello there,” she said. “Were you looking for us?”

  “All over the house,” Jessie said, stopping to fall in behind Abbie, who looked as if she might bolt at any second. “What are you two doing outside? It’s nearly as hot as a chili pepper already.”

  “We were just looking for a quiet place to talk.” Rose smiled, trying for a look that would indicate she and Vi had nothing better to discuss than a new recipe for dinner. “And it’s not all that hot out here.”

  “It’s getting there.” Jessie lifted the weight of her own red-pepper hair off her neck and frowned at her mother. “Something wrong?”

  So much for pretending this was just a casual chat between women who were sisters-in-law and friends. “Of course not,” Rose said, adding a light laugh for good measure. “We were just talking, that’s all.”

  “About me and…and Mac?” Abbie looked miserable and Rose’s heart went out to her. She was so young to be pregnant and dealing with a personality as proud as Mac’s. No matter what had happened between the two of them, Abbie shouldn’t have to feel so responsible for what had, ultimately, been his choice as well as hers.

  “No, not about you, Abbie,” Vi stated with a sigh. “We were talking about me and my next milestone birthday.”

  Jessica, being quite young herself, missed the point. “Oh, Mother. I wish you’d quit worrying about turning fifty.” She turned to explain to Abbie. “I was born on Mom’s twenty-fifth birthday and when I turn twenty-five in October, she’s going to be fifty. Anyone would think she was going to be a hundred and fifty the way she keeps stewing about it.”

  “Jessica,” Rose admonished softly, even as she wondered whether Randy had told his daughter about the party he was planning for their mutual birthday. It was Vi he really wanted to surprise. Vi, who needed the boost a party would give her. Unfortunately, it was also Vi who’d noticed Randy’s interest in the beautiful boarder, Savannah, and jumped to the ridiculous conclusion he was thinking seriously about having an affair. Rose had sworn not to give away her brother’s secret. She had promised faithfully not to reveal that Savannah was a party-planner and a part of the whole surprise, but this morning especially, it had been tough going to keep from telling Vi what was really in the works. She was actually glad the young women had interrupted them.

  “Don’t fuss at me, Aunt Rose,” Jessie said. “You know she’s worrying herself sick over gray hairs and saggy boobs and being older than dirt. Honestly, anyone would think she’s going to wake up on her birthday and look so ancient she could pass for Father Time.”

  Vi straightened, her shoulders and chin rising simultaneously. “That would be Mother Millennium and fifty is not old!” She turned to Rose with a renewed sparkle in her green eyes. “Aren’t you glad you only had sons, Rose?”

  Jessie laughed, too confident in her parents’ affections for each other and for her to be offended. “She’s probably not that happy about it this morning, Mom, considering Mac’s announcement.”

  Abbie gulped and Rose thought it advisable to offer her a means of escape, if she wanted one. “You know, Abbie. I have some errands to run in Bridle. Why don’t you come with me? We’ll have lunch, get away from the ranch for a little while.”

  “Thanks,” Abbie said, looking guilty and grateful and desperate at the same time. “That sounds lovely.”

  “Great.” Rose stood, dusting her hands, as if she’d been planning these errands for days now instead of minutes. “I’ll just get my things and meet you out front in—” she glanced at her watch “—five minutes?”

  Abbie, still looking a bit shell-shocked, nodded and then, belatedly, turned to Jessie. “I probably should finish those invoices today, though.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes and gave Abbie a nudge. “You’ve done more than your share in that office already this week. Go on. Have a good time. Barring a miracle, the work will still be there tomorrow.” She sighed and turned to her mother. “You are not going to believe what that stupid Nick Grayson has told me I have to do now!”

  Rose slipped into the house, satisfied she’d done her best to comfort Vi without ruining Randy’s party plans. Now, she could, perhaps, help her second son by getting to know the young woman he’d chosen as his bride…and the mother of her first grandchild.

  Chapter Nine

  “Bridle isn’t metropolitan, by anyone’s standards,” Abbie said after being seated at a window table in a cozy little restaurant called Nana’s Home Cookin’. “But I think it’s a perfectly charming old town. Thank you so much for letting me tag along while you did your shopping.”

  “I’m so glad you agreed to come along. It’s nice to have the company.” Across from her, Rose settled a floral napkin in her lap and smiled. “I believe Vi prefers shopping in Austin because of the selection, but I like the small-town atmosphere better. Even though, the first few times I came into town, people asked for my autograph, as if I were some sort of celebrity or something.”

  “Really?” Abbie was still a bit intimidated by this graceful, lovely woman who was Mac’s mother. “What did you do when they asked?”

  Rose laughed. “I signed whatever they handed me as if I were famous. My brother will tell you, I’m not shy.”

  “Well, you were a queen. I don’t suppose many people in Bridle or in Texas, for that matter, can make that kind of claim.” Abbie paused, wondering if maybe Rose was still a queen. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have spoken in the past tense. You probably are still a queen, if you decided to return to your husband’s country.”

  “My country, too,” Rose corrected softly. “I still think of it as home. As to the other, although I was married to the king of Sorajhee, I could never think of myself as a queen. Of course, since Ibrahim’s death,
his brother, Azzam, has been king and his wife, Layla, is the queen. She was his first wife, which makes her also the chief wife in his harem and, by Sorajheean custom, the queen.”

  “Harem?” Abbie said, eyes widening. “Were you the chief wife, too?”

  “I was the only wife,” Rose said, her expression stating clearly that there had been no other option. “I would never have agreed to marry Ibrahim otherwise. Of course, at the time of our marriage, some Western ideology was filtering into the Arabic nations and, while the custom of having a harem is still accepted as a king’s right, it’s by no means expected or even necessarily encouraged. Still, a crown prince marrying an American heiress is not the norm and our wedding created something of a scandal at the time.”

  “A scandal?” This was better than the less dramatic account Jessica had given Abbie. “You were the center of a scandal?”

  Rose smiled. “Not my choice for entertainment, I assure you. Ibrahim was the oldest son of King Habib Mohammed El Jeved and was promised to marry a young Sorajheean woman, but when he married me instead, there was an outcry to name Ibrahim’s brother, Azzam, as the heir to King Habib’s throne. It was a little frightening, but the king stood firm in his conviction that his oldest son should be crowned after his death and, eventually, the unrest died away.” A shadow crossed her face. “At least it did for a while.”

  “So what happened to the young woman he was supposed to marry?” Abbie wanted to know.

  “She was Layla, who married his brother.”

  “That must have made for some uncomfortable family gatherings.”

  Rose lifted her shoulder in a noncommittal and delicate shrug. “I sometimes thought Layla was jealous because Azzam took more wives and Ibrahim was fond of saying he could handle only one, when the one was the joy of his heart. I didn’t have to share my husband with any other wives and there were times when I felt, perhaps, that she resented me for it. Other times, she was very proud of being a proper wife to Azzam, so maybe the traditional ways didn’t bother her. It is still considered a great honor to be the chief wife. There is a great deal of power vested in the role.” She smiled easily at Abbie as a dark-haired waitress approached. “Or so Layla has told me.”

  Abbie smiled in return, marveling at the courage it must have taken for even a sophisticated young woman—as Rose had obviously been at the time of her marriage—to choose to live in a country so different from the one of her birth. It could not have been easy, no matter how much she had loved her husband. Abbie ordered tea and a sandwich although she wasn’t particularly hungry. Rose ordered a hamburger and a soda, confessing as the waitress walked away, “I haven’t been back in the States long enough to get over my obsession with hamburgers. I wasn’t all that fond of them before, but during my years in the sanitarium, it was the one food I honestly craved. In the course of many long days and longer nights, I promised myself that one day I would eat all the hamburgers I wanted. So far, I haven’t reached my saturation point.”

  Abbie smiled, felt brave enough to say, “Jessie told me a little about your incarceration. She said they kept you drugged almost all the time. Why would anyone do that?”

  Rose’s expression barely changed, but it was enough for Abbie to know she hadn’t fully forgiven those who had stolen years from her life. “I’m beginning to find out a few of the answers through my communications with Serena’s father, King Zakariyya Al Farid of Balahar,” she said. “He is a good man with many trusted advisors, and he continues to search for the truth to help me. Perhaps in time, I will be able to understand.”

  Abbie could tell that was all that would be said on the subject and had a feeling the conversation was about to turn to her. Much as she was beginning to like Rose, she really didn’t want to confide in her. She was, after all, Mac’s mother. Abbie gave voice to the first thought that flitted through her mind. “I don’t think I could have done what you did,” she said. “I couldn’t live in a country where women are still often considered the property of men.”

  Rose raised an eyebrow. “I would have lived on the moon if that had been Ibrahim’s home. But before I met him…? No, I never thought I could live in a country and culture so foreign to me. I certainly wouldn’t have believed I would be happy there.” Their drinks arrived and Rose tore the paper end from her straw and, raising it to her lips, blew the remaining paper covering clear across the room.

  Abbie laughed, surprised by this childlike prank from the dignified and beautiful Rose. “I’ll bet you didn’t do that in Sorajhee,” she said.

  “Well, not at the formal dinners, anyway,” Rose agreed with a laugh. “Ibrahim had a few things to say about my high spirits on occasion. I was as much a trial to him at times as he was for me. You should have heard some of the quarrels we had over my being a little too independent for a proper wife. Independence was always a touchy subject for me.”

  “It is for me, too,” Abbie said, pleased to find this common bond. “Sometimes I feel I’ve been fighting to be independent my whole life.”

  “Your brothers?” Rose asked.

  “Yes. My parents, too, to a certain extent, although I think they were just tired of trying to corral my brothers by the time I was born. Which, I guess, makes the boys sound like bullies and they’re really not.” She paused, wondering how best to describe her dear but exasperating family. “I suppose they’re just so absolutely sure they know what’s best for me.”

  Rose nodded. “It was the same with my husband. He was so accustomed to never being challenged that I must have been a real shock to his system. With men such as your brothers and my sons, it always comes down to a matter of pride, I believe. They fear what they love will be stolen from them or that it will be lost through something they left undone. So their reaction is to control everything so it can’t happen. Alex and Cade are learning now that real love is a balancing act. Mac is still fighting, but he will also learn to let go and trust in the power of love. Don’t give up too soon on him, Abbie.”

  Abbie decided she had to be honest. “I’m not going to marry him, Rose. No matter what he said this morning.”

  Rose nodded and pushed her drink back as the food arrived and was placed in front of them. “I respect your decision, Abbie, whatever it ultimately will be. But for the sake of my grandchild and of my son, I pray that you will change your mind. I believe my son loves you, despite his fear.” She looked at the hamburger on her plate and smiled like a kid with a sack full of Halloween candy. “I do so love hamburgers,” she said, then glanced across the street. “After this, I need to stop at the post office and check for a letter I’ve been expecting. It’s probably not there, but since I’m here I should find out, don’t you think?” Her blue eyes looked wistful for a second, then she seemed to come back from a faraway place. “If you’d like to go to the little boutique and gift shop next door, Abbie, I can come back for you there when I’ve finished my business.”

  “That sounds great.” Abbie thought it odd for Rose, who’d only been in the vicinity a couple of months to have business at the post office. And a letter. The mail was delivered six days a week, excluding holidays, directly to the Desert Rose office. She’d sorted it several days, herself. On the other hand, Rose had lived a life Abbie could barely begin to imagine. How could she say what was odd and what wasn’t for a woman who once upon a time had forsaken the only world she knew to marry a desert prince? “I’m so glad you invited me to lunch,” she said instead. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Rose answered. “It is definitely my pleasure.”

  ROSE ACCEPTED THE LETTER and the thick manila packet from the mail clerk. “Thank you,” she said, and bestowed a grateful smile. “I’ve been so looking forward to receiving this. I didn’t even dare hope it had already arrived.”

  “Got here this mornin’,” the clerk said. “From—” he checked the customs form she’d signed in order to get the letters “—Ball-ee-har. Must be one of those countries nobody much has ever heard of.”

  “
Balahar.” She pronounced the name correctly but smiled to show she didn’t mind that he hadn’t recognized it. “It’s near the Gulf of Oman and it’s a very beautiful country, but you’re right, unfortunately, not many people know much about it.”

  “You’re that queen lady, aren’t ya?” He asked, blushing to the roots of his sparse and receding hairline. “I figured it was you when I saw the postmark. “Royal Palace, Balahar.”” He pronounced it correctly that time and she rewarded him with yet another smile. Really, now that the packet was here, she just couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

  “Thank you,” she said again. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to finally have these.”

  “Well, now, you’re more’n welcome, ma’am. I’m happy to have been able to hold those for you until you could get in to pick ’em up. Course, that’s my job, but I’m happy I could be of help.”

  “Yes,” Rose agreed. “It was a great help. Not all mail is meant for all eyes, you know, and this—” she held the long, thick packet carefully in her hands, knowing its contents could be as precious to her as any gift she had ever before received “—this is very important to me. Thank you.”

  “Like I said, ma’am, it’s my job.”

  Rose nodded and turned away. Even before she’d reached the door, she was cradling the package and letter against her body, protectively, as if someone might try to take this away from her. So much had been stolen from her already—Ibrahim, her sons, her brother, the baby born after she was taken to the sanitarium. So many things she could never reclaim. But now, perhaps, she held in her hands a gift she had had no hope of having. Instead of going out the door, Rose changed direction and walked into an alcove of post office boxes. It wasn’t as much privacy as she’d like, but it was presently empty and she couldn’t wait any longer to read the letter Zak had sent along with pictures and newspaper clippings of his son, Prince Sharif. Well, at least, Rose believed the packet contained pictures. Why else would Zak have sent a thick and bulky packet such as this? He could have said all he’d discovered in the letter. If Sharif was not her child by birth, then Zak could have had no reason to send a separate packet.