by Jean Oram
He tossed the cloth in the sink, and she gave him a quick smile that looked as though it hurt her cheeks.
He didn’t have to ask if she wanted to talk about it to know the answer was no. Some parts of a person’s past weren’t fair game when it came to idle get-to-know-you conversations. In fact, they might never be.
3
Catherine woke with a start, uncertain where she was. She hadn’t slept so soundly in months. Possibly even a year.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes as the past year came back to her. Her father and the rest of the Davies gang, informally known as the British Mafia, had been arrested during a sting operation just days before her boyfriend’s death. Simon had been one of the nightclub’s managers, and she hadn’t yet figured out how to tell him she was pregnant when a car accident had taken his life.
Just about every Davies family member, and everyone close to them, had been brought in on charges during the sting operation. Including Simon and herself.
She’d left home at age sixteen, wanting nothing to do with the lying, cheating and scheming that went on around her. She’d returned only to attend her mother’s funeral a few years ago, and had naively believed she’d separated her life from her family. But little had she realized that the nightclub where she’d been working as an events coordinator for the past seven years, booking headliners and constantly making it the place to be in London, had actually been a front for her father’s gang. The worst part was that Simon, manager of the club, may have been involved in the backroom money laundering scheme, and she’d made it easy by constantly making their profits hit the roof each and every month.
When the officers put the pieces together for her, building a picture of her naivety and betrayal, she’d vomited all over the interrogation room. She’d been released fairly quickly after that, with no pending charges.
Simon had been released hours later, and when he’d died in a suspicious accident days later, it had sealed things for her. Her child was not going to grow up anywhere near her father, brothers, cousins and their associates. They already assumed she was a snitch who’d cut a deal, allowing her to walk away without charges while they’d been put behind bars. That put a target on her back.
And Simon…she still wasn’t sure whether simply being associated with her had led to his “accident” or if he’d been playing both sides and had paid the price. Either way, the man she’d been involved with was dead, and she feared it wouldn’t be long until she joined him, or her child grew up to face a seemingly good offer—like she had with the club’s primo events coordinator job—that was simply too good to refuse.
She was breaking the cycle. Saying goodbye to the fear and incessant crime. She was moving beyond the reach of her family’s control once and for all.
By the time a frantic Leo, her bartender friend, had caught up with her the day before Simon’s funeral, she’d already prepared herself to go into hiding. He’d helped, explaining how and where to get a fake identity, then shoved several Email Brides and Grooms profiles into her hand, including Zach’s, saying that might be a good way to lie low.
She’d scoffed at the idea of marrying herself off, but had agreed that disappearing would be wise. So instead of going husband shopping, she’d taken the cash she’d kept hidden at home and had gone underground, using a variety of fake names and working small jobs under the table in various countries, until Xavier was born in Honduras.
Her family had looked for her after she’d fled, and stories of her disappearance had surfaced in the news. But after their surprisingly quick convictions six months after their arrests—a mere three months ago—they’d grown quiet, apparently no longer in need of her as an ally, or else the reporters had lost interest in the missing woman and the lack of leads.
She’d continued to lie low up until Xavier’s birth, staying on the move and hoping she was safe. But Xavier had been a colicky baby and by the end of the past two interminable months compounded by the nagging feeling that she was being watched wherever she went, she’d dug out Zach’s profile, ready to settle down in a quiet place that was off the beaten path.
She’d figured Zach must have already found someone. But he hadn’t. And he’d seemed pretty close to perfect. Thus began their online chats and her eventual plans to join him as Catherine Tidsdale.
Fresh start.
Now she was here—in Blueberry Springs with a new life. New baby. New husband. New hair. New name. New curves—thanks to the pregnancy, as well as stress eating. New everything.
She owed nobody a thing, and vice versa. She’d get up this morning, find a job, pay her own way in this relationship, and make it clear that neither she nor Zach should ever expect more than she could give.
Except that apparently half the town had already sent over baby items for Xavier, the bassinet having only been the beginning. Everyone was so kind and so giving it made her ill. She couldn’t owe this many people. She had been raised knowing that if people brought you something it was never out of the goodness of their hearts, it was because tomorrow or the next day they’d be on your doorstep with their hand out, implying you owed them.
Catherine reached for the diaper bag, patting its hard plastic bottom, which was covered with cloth. Feeling along the edges, she could make out the faint outline of the extra passports she’d had made as a precaution. The bag’s plastic handle was still heavy with the cash rolled up inside. It would be a trick and a half to retrieve it, but the money was safe. Just like the disguise she had at the ready in the zippered compartment inside. It wasn’t much, just a wig, different shirt and a large scarf she could drape over herself to look pregnant if Xavier was in his baby sling, which also never left the bag. As long she had this and Xavier they could run at any moment.
She inhaled slowly, trying to calm her sense of unease.
The town meant well and she wanted Xavier to grow up in a place where people cared about their neighbors. She could handle their generosity. It was unlikely they expected more than she was willing to give in return. Most of the real world was not like her family. And if she had judged poorly and had chosen the wrong town, she had her exit papers.
Xavier began to stir, and out of habit, she lifted him before he could cry. She fed and changed him before heading downstairs to see what awaited her.
There, in the kitchen, wearing a white-and-blue-striped apron and flipping pancakes, was Zach.
She drew up short. She had not expected Mr. GI Joe to wear an apron, let alone make pancakes, which, judging from the ingredients still out on the counter, were from scratch. Then again, she supposed, like a good mother, the army had instilled good habits. She’d bet he was great with an iron and could make a bed without a single wrinkle.
She found herself smiling at the domestic scene before her, wondering if he was truly as amazing as he appeared.
“Do you eat pancakes?” he asked. He’d been humming what sounded like an old show tune, but stopped, obviously having sensed her presence despite having his back to her. “I figured if you like Italian you must not mind gluten.”
“I’ll eat anything,” Catherine said gratefully, her stomach rumbling at the scents of coffee, pancakes and bacon. A pink baby swing had appeared overnight, sitting where the bassinet had been beside the table last night. No, that had been lunchtime.
“What time is it?” she asked, while she burped Xavier. “And I’ll cook tomorrow. What time do you get up?”
“It’s a little before seven, Mountain Standard Time. I usually get up at five thirty, and I don’t mind cooking.”
Wow. She’d really slept. She’d gone for a rest after the spaghetti, waking only a time or two when Xavier was hungry, but all in all…she’d slept for almost seventeen hours.
“Is there anything you don’t eat?” she asked as she put Xavier in the swing, securing the safety straps. She was either going to have to get up earlier than usual to cook when it was her turn, or the two of them would have to co
ok and eat separately. “Maybe we should eat on our own in the mornings.”
Zach ignored the comment as he slid a pancake onto the empty plate beside her. It was the same spot she’d sat in last night and she realized she had a place at this man’s table. Her place. And he was feeding her. Making her breakfast.
She liked it. It made her feel warm, welcome and… “Where did this swing come from?” she asked, avoiding the unfamiliar and pleasant sensation that was swirling inside her.
“Turns out we’re a bit of a gossip piece at the moment. There’s even more stuff in the living room.”
“More?” How was she going to keep track of what went back to whom?
Zach’s expression was unreadable as he settled across from her, stacking three pancakes and drowning them in syrup.
“Gossip?” she asked.
“Yup.” He cut through the pile, then shoved a big bite of pancake into his mouth.
“I suppose marrying someone you’ve never met and having her show up on your doorstep with a baby is noteworthy.” She forced herself to sit upright, to not slump into a dejected mess. So much for keeping a low profile. She was in hiding! Didn’t they get that?
As long as nobody started plastering her face on social media. Facial recognition could rat her out in a heartbeat if anyone from her family was actually looking for her in order to issue payback for their time behind bars.
Zach smiled at her dry comment, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement and what might even be happiness. The ridiculousness of the situation made her want to smile, too, as if they were sharing an inside joke that the world didn’t understand.
But she could still feel the panic tightening, the lack of control she had over the way things were unrolling before her. She ignored the temporary sense of unease and settled on enjoying having someone with her in this lonely inner circle, if only for a moment or two.
“The town is mostly harmless,” Zach said, polishing off his stack of pancakes.
She nodded, focusing on doctoring up her own, laying a few pieces of bacon on top before pouring syrup over it all.
Would a small community such as this one allow her to leave her past locked in the closet? Would they judge her for wanting privacy?
“Is anywhere in town hiring? I should get a job.”
“You’re ready to leave Xavier?” Zach asked, his eyebrows jumping up in surprise.
Catherine bit her bottom lip, glancing at her son in the borrowed swing. She hated to, but she couldn’t just sit here and be dependent on Zach. “I need my own money. I was hoping I might find something I could do from home.” She cleared her throat, feeling odd calling his place home. “From here.”
“You know it’s okay to lean on me for a few months,” Zach said, his voice low and careful. “I don’t expect much. Just help out here and there and we’ll call it even.” He gave a warm chuckle. “We are married, after all.”
“I’m used to being independent.” She knew that sounded formal, but she needed him to know she wasn’t here to sit around and leech off of him.
“I can respect that,” he said after a long moment.
“I do appreciate your kindness,” she added quickly, feeling as though she’d been rude.
“I can ask around about jobs. What can you do?”
“I’m a fast learner. I can do anything.”
“Drive a snowplow?”
“I’m sure I can learn.” She was willing to figure out how to do anything. Even if it might lead to her freezing to death. “On second thought, maybe not that job.”
“We’ll find you something,” Zach said. “Folks in town like to be helpful.”
“It sounds as though it is a very kind place.”
“The best.” Zach leaned forward, circling his left hand in front of his nose as he said, “If you can handle them right up in your face.”
She laughed at his act, making Xavier jump, and she realized it wasn’t a sound her son was used to. He let out an uncertain cry, but Zach reached out, automatically hushing him while giving the swing a small nudge.
“You’re good with kids.” A thought struck her. “Do you have some?”
He shook his head, explaining, “I used to babysit for the lady next door. She had seven kids in the end, but Martha was the last one I sat for before heading off to join the army. Two more came after I left.”
“The army?” He’d mentioned it in passing and Catherine wanted to know more.
“Yup. I was in just about everything by the end. I retired about a year ago.”
“And how is civilian life treating you?” she asked.
Zach let out a huff that she took to mean that he wasn’t so impressed with it.
“I suppose it takes some getting used to? Not having to bounce a coin off your bed every morning, and there being nobody around to shout at you.” She straightened in her chair. “That’s why you got married! You need someone to yell at you.” She fell against the chair back, hands clutching her stomach as she laughed.
Zach scowled at her and rocked the startled Xavier some more. “I have enough people shouting in my life, thank you. Try ignoring Liz Moss-Brady on Main Street when she’s heard a bit of gossip that involves you. She’ll shout and chase you down until you finally acknowledge her.” His smile was wry, his eyes filled with an affection for the woman, which told Catherine that maybe Liz and civilian life weren’t that bad in his books, after all.
“You didn’t tell me she was this cute,” Logan whispered to Zach, catching his attention. Zach’s friend was peering around the kitchen archway, watching Catherine’s animated expression as she tickled and hummed an old Frank Sinatra song to her son, while changing him in the living room.
Zach adjusted the neck of his shirt, not liking how tight it felt. He also didn’t like his friend checking out his wife. Even though she was still basically just an acquaintance.
“It makes sense you ordered her online, you know.”
“You make our arrangement sound…” Zach paused, unable to express all the ways Logan’s words annoyed him, without punching the man. “She’s not an object. She’s a person. A mother. Someone’s daughter. A real living human being with wishes and dreams. And wants.”
“And does she want you?” Logan asked with a sly smile.
Would she want him?
And why did he find himself wondering? It didn’t matter.
He scrubbed his face with a hand. Logan was getting to him. He needed a topic changer. He glanced at what Logan was wearing—a striped, knitted sweater. But the stitching was uneven, the hem crooked.
“What’s this? Ginger learning to knit?”
“Annabelle.” His daughter.
“Ah. Hence the stripes?”
“Hence the stripes.” The normally well-dressed man grimaced slightly as he looked down at his sweater before letting out a soft chuckle. “Not bad for her first attempt, actually.”
“Pretty good,” Zach admitted. A sweater was a big first project to undertake, and he was confident he couldn’t best her results.
“Good ol’ George from next door saw me coming in and asked if she’d make him one, too.”
“Nice of him.”
“I just mean with you not able to find love on your own and Ginger striking out,” Logan began, returning to the topic of Zach and Catherine.
“I’m not looking for love,” Zach said quickly.
“Exactly. Companionship. She’s perfect. You both need a warm body to talk to and keep each other sane.”
“You make me sound unstable.”
“I know how tough it is,” Logan said, his voice lowering, his dark eyes serious. “Leaving the service and learning to trust people. It’s not easy letting others in and being genuine, without having some sort of overriding top secret agenda driving every thought and action.”
Zach let out a breath. He’d never talked about this with Logan, having assumed the man had transitioned without effort, easily doing all the things he’d mentioned.
; “Think of this marriage like training wheels,” Logan continued. “She needs a man to help support her while she gets settled somewhere new, as well as get her motherhood ship off the ground—or so I assume. And you need to learn how to let people in. All the way in. You know, so you feel all that emotional stuff we learned to keep under lock and key and behind an iron gate.”
“Training wheels.”
“Yup. Kind of like being a teenager all over again,” Logan said, with a grin that made Zach’s gut twist. He hadn’t had that much luck in high school. He hadn’t quite known how to take a girl’s interest into something more than shy smiles or quick and awkward conversations. He’d been on dates, of course, but had never managed to find a relationship that had developed into something that left him brokenhearted when it ended.
Zach peered around the corner, watching Catherine. She’d started to make herself at home in small ways, leaving a stack of diapers on the main floor for changing Xavier instead of running back up to her room. When she was with her son, her guarded expression vanished, revealing just how closed she was with Zach. She was friendly, polite, but didn’t act as though she was comfortable or truly open with him. Not by a long shot.
Logan had moved back into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter, arms crossed. He had his eyebrows raised in question, as though asking Zach if he’d made any progress with figuring out Catherine and why she was really here.
“So? Is she on the run?” he asked, when Zach didn’t take up the conversation. “Want me to do a background on her yet?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Logan nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose if she’d been sent to silence you—you know, erase all that important, highly-sensitive, secret knowledge you have rattling around in your top paddock, she would have done it already.” He brightened and smoothly turned to the doorway as Catherine entered the room with her son. “How’s that little Xavier dude? Ready to learn how to snowmobile yet?”