Last-Minute Marriage

by Marisa Carroll

  But one by one they’d solved the complaints, or at least defused most of the controversies, and by the time the meeting was adjourned, the warring factions were at least speaking to each other again. Maybe none of the members of the Riverbend council would qualify for the Nobel Peace prize, but they were keeping the place ticking along. And that was what mattered.

  “Hell, I love this town,” he said, grinning as he topped the riverbank.

  “Who’s there?” Tessa called out.

  Mitch rounded the corner of the boathouse to see her standing beside her little red car, draped in that ridiculous big sweater he’d seen her in the first day she’d come to town. He supposed a sweater like that was all the rage in California, but it looked to him as if it had been made from one of his grandmother’s old bedspreads.

  “It’s me,” he said. “I was just down on the dock getting a breath of fresh air.”

  “Hi, Mitch,” she said. It was too dark to see her smile, but he felt the current from it, anyway. “I came out to see if I’d locked the car and I heard your voice.” She looked past him into the darkness.

  “You know, you don’t have to lock your car. We don’t have much crime around these parts.”

  “Everything I own’s in the trunk of this car,” she said. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink if I hadn’t come out to check the locks.”

  “You haven’t done that lately,” he said.

  “Done what?” she asked, tilting her head a little to one side.

  “Remind me that you’re not staying around town any longer than you have to.” God, maybe he was getting senile before his time. He should never have spoken those words aloud.

  “Mitch—”

  “I know. You’re heading for your sister’s as soon as her kids get over the chicken pox.”

  “I called her this evening. She sounds like she’s got her hands full now that both of them have come down with it, but there’s nothing I can do to help. Her doctor said I should stay away at least another week since her husband’s not sure he ever had them, either.”

  “It’s okay, Tessa. I told you I’m happy to have you stay on here as long as you like.”

  “I know that. It’s just…”

  “What, Tessa?”

  She squared her shoulders. “Nothing. I’m just getting antsy being in limbo this way.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He was in limbo, too, about his feelings for her. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s getting late. I should let you go back inside.”

  She made no move toward the cottage. He waited, too.

  “What were you doing down on the dock?” she asked after a handful of heartbeats.

  “Just watching the mist on the river and the stars come out.”

  She looked up, and he let his eyes linger on the curve of her throat. His hands itched to reach out and touch her to see if her skin felt as soft as the mist rising off the river. “They’re so bright here. I watched them whenever I was driving at night. You never seem to see them in Southern California.”

  He held out his hand before he could stop himself. “Come with me. I’ll show you Hoosier stars.”

  She hesitated so long he thought she’d say no. “I’d like that,” she said at last. He folded his hand around her much smaller one and led the way down the steps to the dock. She walked lightly, but carefully, her body angled slightly to compensate for the burden she carried.

  “I should have brought a flashlight,” he said when she stumbled over an uneven plank.

  Her laugh was light and clear, echoing off the bank and out over the water like little bells. “It’s all right. I’d probably float if I tumbled in. I feel like I swallowed a balloon sometimes.”

  “Better a balloon than a watermelon. Isn’t that the old cliché?”

  “I suppose it is.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging herself. “But when I think of my baby, it makes my heart soar—like a balloon.”

  He wanted to tell her how brave that made her sound. She’d confessed she was nearly penniless, homeless for all intents and purposes, with family and friends a thousand miles away, but still the thought of bringing a child into the world made her heart soar.

  He couldn’t remember Kara ever expressing such a thought when she was carrying Sam—at least not to him.

  “Have you picked out a name for the baby yet?” he asked.

  She shook her head. He could see her profile in the light reflected off the river. “No. I guess I’ve been waiting to discuss names with my sister.”

  “We named Sam after his mother’s father.”

  “My dad took off and left us when I was five. And I don’t think I’ll name the baby Brian.”

  “Is Brian the father’s name?”

  She turned to look at him, and her features were lost in shadow. “Yes,” she said, and there was no hint of emotion in her voice. “Brian Delaney.”

  “Brian’s a good strong name.”

  “He’s a strong man. A baseball player. Center-fielder for the Angels.” She paused as if waiting for an acknowledgment.

  The name didn’t ring a bell. “I don’t follow the West Coast teams much,” he said by way of apology.

  “He’s only been with the club since August.”

  “You met him in Albany?” What in hell am I doing asking questions about her lover?

  “He went to high school with my brother-in-law. We met at a New Year’s Eve party.”

  “And it was love at first sight?” A professional baseball player. Just what he needed in a rival.

  “Yes. Or at least I thought it was.” She grew silent.

  “But the can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-can’t-wait-to-see-him-again feeling didn’t last.” That was the way it had been for him and Kara. He had a hunch he hadn’t been able to keep the bitterness out of his voice when she looked over at him and shook her head.

  “Love isn’t a match for wanting to make the big leagues.”

  “The Angels didn’t make the playoffs, did they? Is he still in California?” I must be a glutton for punishment. How else to explain the words that just left my mouth?

  “He’s in Honduras playing winter ball.”

  “I see.” Mitch didn’t know what else to say. He’d brought this conversation on himself.

  “I wish I had.” She curled her hands around the railing. “Brian’s a nice guy. Fun to be with, easygoing. Or at least that’s the way he seemed at first. He’s a decent utility infielder. He played Triple-A ball for twelve years but never got his big break. Then the Angels’ centerfielder got hurt and they called Brian up. I was thrilled for him. At least at first.” Her voice faded almost to a whisper. “Until I realized that staying in the majors was the most important thing in his life. That’s when it hit me I didn’t know him at all. As it turned out, the baby and I came second to his dream. A very distant second.”

  “He left you alone and pregnant?”

  “After I refused to go with him. Was I wrong?” she asked suddenly. “Was I just selfish and cowardly not to want to have my baby in a faraway Third World country?”

  He chose his words carefully. He wanted to tell her she was right to ditch the selfish jerk, but he held his tongue. “I think your fears were normal. Bringing a child into the world is a risk and a responsibility that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

  “I cried my eyes out for three days. When I stopped crying, I realized I didn’t feel the same way about Brian as I had before. From then on it was going to be just the two of us. Me and my daughter. That’s when I packed up and headed east.”

  Mitch chuckled softly. “You sound very certain the baby is a girl. Do you know for sure?”

  She shook her head. “I know in my heart.”

  “Did you make an appointment at the hospital yet?” He wasn’t sorry to move the conversation in a different direction. He had to deliberately uncurl his hands from the fists they’d molded themselves into. If he ever came face-to-face with Tessa’s lover, he’d be hard pu
t not to punch out his lights.

  “Yes. Day after tomorrow. With Dr. Stevens, the one you said was a friend.”

  “Yes.” He rested his arms on the railing of the dock he’d installed two years before. “She’s a good doctor.”

  “I appreciate your help finding her. And thanks for letting me vent about Brian,” she added softly.

  “No problem.”

  She leaned back and looked at the sky. “The stars are getting brighter every minute.” Whatever joy she felt in her pregnancy must be blunted by her precarious situation, Mitch thought. She probably didn’t want to dwell on the subject any more tonight, not with hours of lonely darkness to be gotten through before the sun came up. He’d been there himself, sleepless with worry over Sam’s future, more nights than he cared to remember.

  “There’s the Big Dipper.” He pointed to the familiar constellation. “It’s easy to see tonight.”

  “There’s the handle. And that must be the North Star, so the Little Dipper—” she followed the outline of the constellation with her finger “—is right there.”

  He laughed at the triumphant lilt in her voice. “And there’s Orion’s Belt.”

  “And the rest of him.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, graceful and utterly feminine. His lower body tightened unexpectedly, and his breath came quick and hard for a moment. He wanted her. Here and now, under the blanket of stars with the river running silently beneath their feet.

  “For someone who hasn’t seen the stars in ages, you’re pretty good at spotting them,” he said when he could trust his voice again.

  “I took a course in astronomy one semester. It rained for days on end, and we did most of our stargazing in the university planetarium, but I loved it. I aced the course.”

  “I imagine you ace most anything you set out to do.”

  “No,” she said. “Some things I’ve failed miserably at.” Again she was silent, no longer looking at the stars. Mitch put his foot on the lower railing and followed the path of her gaze, watching the reflections of stars in the dark water. “What was it like growing up in this town?” she asked after a long moment.

  “It was good,” he answered without hesitation.

  “Tell me about it.” There was a wistfulness in her voice he imagined she didn’t want him to hear.

  It was cold enough now that he could see his breath when he exhaled. He shouldn’t keep her out here too much longer. She wasn’t dressed to stand in the cold. “We played in the river in the summer. Fishing, swimming, water skiing. We played on the river ice in the winter—when we weren’t going out for one sport or another in school. There was a gang of us who hung out together. Nick Harrison was one. Charlie Callahan, too.”

  “The contractor? I’ve met him at the store,” she said, turning her back on the river, leaning against the railing, once again looking up at the stars.

  “And his ex-wife, soon-to-be new wife again, Beth Pennington. Actually she was more an honorary member. Her brother, Ed, was the real River Rat. Beth’s a physician’s assistant. She works with Dr. Bennett. He’s Lily Mazerik’s dad. You’ve met Lily at the store, too, haven’t you?” She nodded. “She’s married to Aaron Mazerik. He’s the basketball coach. Tom Baines was one of us, too, when he was here in the summer.”

  “Tom Baines the reporter?”

  “The Pulitzer-Prize-winning reporter,” Mitch supplied.

  “I had no idea he lived in Riverbend.”

  “He doesn’t, not officially yet. But I’ve got the feeling he’s going to be spending more time in town. He’s been seeing a lot of Lynn Kendall. She’s the minister of the Riverbend Community Church. He’s Rachel and Ruth Steele’s nephew, by the way. Bloodlines are important in this neck of the woods.”

  “Was there anyone else?” She’d picked up on something in his voice that he hadn’t realized was there.

  “Just me and one other—Tom’s cousin and Aaron’s half brother, Jacob Steele.”

  “Jacob doesn’t live in Riverbend any longer, I take it.”

  “He left town shortly after college. He hasn’t been back since. Not even when his father, Abraham, died suddenly last spring. Not even his aunts know where’s he’s gone or what he’s doing.”

  “I wonder if something happened to drive him away?”

  “Damned if I know,” Mitch admitted. “But it gets better. Abraham left a bunch of us bequests in his will. He left the old homeplace to Tom, and it brought him back to town from halfway around the world. He left Reverend Lynn money for her youth center. He left Beth and Charlie each half interest in a houseboat, and after years apart they’ve reconciled. There was money for Aaron Mazerik, too, although the old man never acknowledged him as his son while he lived.”

  “Those are most of the River Rats,” she said. “What did he leave you?”

  “Not me. He left Sam a fair-size sum of money.”

  “Sam? Why, because of his hearing-impairment?”

  “It could be. No one knows for sure.” He and Caleb and Rachel and Ruth had looked at Abraham’s bequest to Sam from every angle. But none of them had come up with a reason, and Abraham hadn’t chosen to enlighten them in his will. “Granddad claims it’s because he saved Abe’s life once when they were kids and he fell through the ice. But Abraham never admitted the incident happened in the first place. And even if it had, why leave Sam twenty-seven thousand dollars?”

  “Wow!”

  Mitch couldn’t help but smile at the note of wonder in her old-fashioned exclamation. “It does take the edge off coming up with his college tuition,” he agreed. “I’ve already invested most of it. In eight years it will be a tidy sum.”

  “It is now,” she said emphatically. “I guess it doesn’t matter why he did it. But if I were in your place, I’d want to know why he chose Sam.”

  “That would be nice, but it’s not likely we’ll ever learn the reason. Abraham Steele was a strange bird.”

  “It’s like a story.”

  “Or a soap opera?”

  “You’re going to tell me once again that Riverbend isn’t what it seems on the surface, aren’t you?”

  “I just don’t want you to think everything here is perfect. It isn’t. Abe Steele left money to Sam and Lynn’s church and a houseboat to Charlie and Beth that brought them back together. But he had a son he never acknowledged, even when the boy was on the road to a bad end. Something must have happened between him and Jacob that was so serious Jacob turned his back on friends and family and has never set foot in this town again.”

  She turned sideways to face him. From this angle he couldn’t see the gentle roundness of her belly, only the curve of her hip and the swell of her breast. He sucked in his breath as another wave of longing and sexual desire came out of nowhere. “You’re telling me it’s just like anyplace else. There are small people here, as well as generous ones. There are mean and angry people. Maybe even violent ones. There are probably as many unhappy marriages as happy ones. Am I right?”

  “You’re right.” His voice sounded harsh even to himself.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I sounded as if I was prying. I don’t mean to.”

  “You’re not prying. I’ve been divorced for almost four years. You get over it.”

  “Do you?” She sounded as if she wanted to believe him, but couldn’t, because she knew he didn’t believe the words himself.

  “Look, it’s getting cold and late. I don’t want you showing up at the clinic with pneumonia. Let’s go in.”

  She didn’t say any more as they climbed. They stopped outside the door to the boathouse. “Thank you for showing me the stars.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Before he could stop himself, he lifted his hand and brushed a stray wisp of honey-blond hair from her cheek. He lowered his head, bringing their mouths within inches of each other.

  Tessa’s eyelids fluttered shut, but then snapped open again. She took a quick step backward. “I think I’d better go inside. It’s getting cold an
d this sweater isn’t all that warm.”

  The surge of desire through his veins hadn’t lessened. He still wanted to touch his lips to hers, feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers. He wanted to lie beside her, make love to her, see the smile of contentment the baby moving inside her would bring to her face.

  He must be losing his mind to be in such a state over a woman who was only passing through his life. A woman who was pregnant with another man’s child. A man she’d left only weeks before. A man she was probably still in love with.

  He straightened and put even more distance between them. “I’ll hunt you up an old coat of my mom’s,” he said. Anything to stop himself from thinking of what her hair smelled like. Wildflowers and summer dew. Or remembering that the skin of her cheek felt like silk beneath his fingertips. Her mouth would be as soft and as sweet. She had been pretty that first day he saw her. Now she was beautiful. “You’ll need one if you’re going to be staying around for a while.”

  “I won’t be staying that long, Mitch,” she said softly, but with finality.

  She was warning him off, but he couldn’t just walk away. “You’ll be here long enough to come to the pumpkin party next week.”

  “Pumpkin party?” Her hand was on the doorknob, but she paused to look back over her shoulder at him. She was lovely in the moonlight, all gold and silver and big luminous eyes.

  “It’s at the store. I’ll be putting up the posters tomorrow. A couple of days before Halloween the kids from around town come and carve jack-o’-lanterns. They bring their own, or we provide them for the ones who might not be able to afford a good big one. The little ones paint faces on theirs. I coerce just about everyone I know to supervise the older kids with the knives. Then later, the folks who help out come here to the house. We have a bonfire and cider and doughnuts, and Charlie Callahan makes chili over an open fire.” He tried for a smile and thought he succeeded. “The party will be right in your backyard, if the weather cooperates. Don’t tell me you’re going to be inhospitable and lock yourself up in your little hideaway and snub my friends.”