Granted: A Family for Baby

by Grace, Carol

  “As long as you want, okay?” he asked.

  “A lifetime, okay?” she answered.

  His jaw tightened. “I can’t do that,” he said.

  “Can’t...or won’t?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine. I think I’ll lie down for a while. It’s been a long day.”

  He got up and gestured gallantly toward the bed he’d just vacated. “It’s all yours. Oh, and when you want to use the facilities, I won’t look.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “Same here.”

  The bed was narrow and hard, but lying there with the blanket wrapped around her, with her face to the wall, prevented her from watching Brady pace back and forth across the floor. But she heard him. Until he stopped pacing. Then she heard nothing. She told herself not to worry about him. He was used to camping out, sleeping on the hard ground. But she did worry. And wonder. Finally she turned over.

  He was sitting on the floor, his chest resting on his knees, his head buried in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” she said softly.

  He looked up, his eyes deep fathomless pools. “Nothing. Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t. Not with you on the floor. I feel too guilty.”

  He stood up. “Okay, I’ll take the bed, you sleep on the floor.”

  She gripped the edge of the blanket as if he might try to take it away from her. “I don’t feel that guilty.”

  “I have another idea.”

  “No.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

  She sighed and lifted the blanket. “Oh, all right. As long as we’re both fully dressed. But I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us.” She edged as far over as she could, pressing her shoulder against the wall, leaving at least six inches for his six-foot-three-inch frame. It would never work. Never.

  The cot creaked and moaned under their combined weight. Brady wrapped his arms around her.

  “Brady!” she cautioned, fighting the urge to nestle against him, to give in to her impulse, to let the warmth of his body cover her, surround her, be part of her. But, oh, it felt so good to have him there.

  “Do you want me to fall off?” he demanded, so close she felt his warm breath on her face.

  She didn’t answer. This proximity was making her crazy. Crazy with want Crazy with longing. She told herself to relax and enjoy it. Enjoy pretending she was part of a couple. A couple that ate together, that shared a bed, no matter how small, a couple that went camping with their baby and slept in a double sleeping bag. Just for this one night, she told herself, she’d pretend. What about tomorrow night, a niggling voice asked. She refused to listen. Tomorrow night was a long way off.

  Brady ran his broad hands around her rib cage, his fingers dangerously close to her breasts. She held her breath, waiting, wondering, wanting. Her breasts swelled, pressing against her lace bra, aching for his touch. When his hands moved under her sweater to cup the heavy fullness of her breasts, she covered his hands with hers.

  “Suzy,” Brady whispered. “You are so warm, so wonderful. And I want you so badly.” He trailed kisses down her neck, his fingers drawing concentric circles around her nipples. His body radiated heat. She was so warm she felt like a piece of taffy, softening in his arms until there was nothing left of her. Nothing left of him, either. Just one blob of togetherness. Just one where there had been two.

  When his fingers brushed her breasts she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from her throat. She had a wild desire to remove her bra, to take off all her clothes. She wanted to feel him next to her, around her and she wanted his throbbing arousal inside of her. She pressed her face into the pillow and prayed for the strength to resist these urges.

  She didn’t have to. Brady apparently came to his senses and with a ragged sigh, he turned over. And promptly rolled off the bed.

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said. “I’ll stay here on the floor.”

  Still throbbing with desire, she rolled over and looked down at him. “If anyone goes on the floor, it should be me,” she said, striving for a matter-of-fact tone when her whole body was aching, yearning.... Maybe the hard, cold floor would dampen her runaway lust for her former boss.

  “No way. What will that do to my reputation?” he asked.

  “Who’s going to find out? I won’t tell,” she assured him, swinging one leg over the edge of the bed.

  “You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he said, shoving her leg back onto the bed.

  She yanked on his ann. “Get back in here.”

  He did what she said and fell on top of her. They rolled over together and bumped into the wall. “I can’t believe we’re fighting over this bed,” she gasped, catching her breath. “What is wrong with us?”

  With his hands braced against her shoulders, he stared down at her with red hot desire flaming in his eyes. “It’s obvious,” he said. “You’re hot for me and you won’t be happy until you get me back in the sack with you.”

  Before she could come up with an appropriately sarcastic reply he kissed her. Kissed her until she was breathless and aching for more. She pulled him down on top of her and kissed him back. In between the kisses he told her how much he wanted her. And all the things he wanted to do to her. And with her. His lips burned a fiery trail down her jaw. His words burned even hotter.

  She knew it was wrong. She knew she should shove him back onto the floor, or insist on sleeping there herself, but she couldn’t. She was a weakling. Inside and out.

  Finally from somewhere in her foggy brain she heard the warning bells. And the voice of experience. This was how she got in trouble the last time. She put her hands firmly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. “We’ll trade places,” she said, “and then we’ll sleep.”

  “Huh?” His voice was rough. His eyes were glazed. It took about thirty seconds for him to focus.

  When she finally got through to him, he took her place on the bed and turned to face the wall. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his back so she wouldn’t fall off. She nuzzled her face into his neck, inhaling the musky scent of his skin and his dark hair. Somewhere, somehow, sometime in the middle of the night, the tension slowly oozed out of her body and she slept. So did he.

  In the morning he was gone. Not very far gone. But she was aware of an empty space in the bed where he used to be. And an aching sense of loss. Someday, when she was married, someday when she’d found Mr. Right, or Daddy Right, she’d go to sleep in his arms and wake up in his arms. Squashing her disappointment at waking up alone, she turned over to see Brady laying out the breakfast.

  “Good news,” he said with an impersonal smile. As if they hadn’t spent the night as intimately as a couple could, considering they were fully clothed. “The coffee’s still warm. Not hot, but warm.”

  She nodded and ran her hand through her tousled hair. She felt like he’d thrown a bucket of cold water on her. How much longer before Brady’s deputy showed up? She longed with all her heart for a bath. She got up and washed her face and went to the bathroom while Brady’s back was tactfully turned.

  Over a breakfast of leftover rolls and lukewarm coffee, she gathered her courage. “By the way, I found that picture of Travis and me that was on my wall.”

  He cocked one eyebrow. “Really? That’s good.”

  “Don’t you want to know where it was?”

  “Not really.”

  “In your top drawer,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Must have been the janitor put it there.”

  “You don’t have a janitor.”

  A brief smile crossed his face. “Call it magic then. Black magic.”

  “I call it theft.”

  “So sue me.”

  She didn’t sue him, she just gave him a look that asked what on earth he wanted with a picture of her and Travis? He didn’t see the look. He was busy reading the label on the artificial sugar packets as if he’d always wanted
to know what they contained.

  “What time do you think Hal will be here?” she asked casually as if it really didn’t matter.

  “Not sure,” he said, equally casual.

  When the silence got too oppressive and seemed to stretch on into eternity, she finally gathered her courage and asked Brady about his past. After all, this might be her last chance to ask him anything.

  “I’ve spilled my guts to you, Brady, and still you haven’t told me anything about your marriage.”

  He was leaning back against the bars of the cell looking at her. For a long time he didn’t say anything. She thought he’d refuse as he had in the past. But finally he spoke.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  “Who was she? What went wrong?”

  “I told you what went wrong. It was my job. People in law enforcement make lousy husbands.”

  “Yes, I know. But how? Why?”

  “Because every time they go out, their life is on the line. They don’t know if they’ll come home alive and neither do their wives. I’ve told you all this before.” The lines around his mouth tightened. “I don’t know why we have to go over it again.”

  “That can’t be all of it,” she protested, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “There are policemen and sheriffs who have wives. Who have happy marriages. There must be.”

  “Not that I know of. You have no idea of the stress.”

  “I think I do. I worked in your office for over a year. I know what goes on.”

  “It’s been a quiet year. And I admit Harmony isn’t San Francisco. That’s why I’m here. But I’m telling you that when and if things go down, I’m the one who puts his life on the line. Can you imagine how you’d worry if your husband went out one night to stop a brawl and didn’t come back until morning? What would you do?”

  “You mean...you mean if I was married to a... a...sheriff?” She could barely get the words out.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’d worry, of course I’d worry. But I’d think, he’ll handle it. He can handle anything.”

  “You really think that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “Yes, I really think that. Especially if the sheriff was you. Everybody in town believes in you. That’s why they voted for you.”

  “But what if it happened again and again, what would you do?” he asked.

  “I’d make the most of the times when the... the... sheriff was home.” She felt a blush creep up her face. “I mean if you marry a policeman or a sheriff you have to be prepared for that.”

  “There’s nothing that can prepare you for when they come to your door and tell you your husband’s been shot. That your kid doesn’t have a dad anymore.”

  Her lip trembled. “No, I suppose not.”

  “I was the guy who had to tell my partner’s wife. I stood there at the door and watched her face fall when she opened it and saw me there. Before I could even say anything, she knew why I was there. I saw his kids standing behind her. I saw her face crumple.” His voice broke. “Oh, God, it was terrible.”

  She wanted to go to him, to put her arms around him and comfort him. But she was afraid. Afraid he’d rebuff her and shut her out. Tell her she didn’t understand. “Was that the day, the turning point?” she asked softly. “Was that when you decided to leave the city and come to Harmony?”

  He shook his head. “That was another day. The day I came home at six in the morning after a night where I responded to a domestic violence call. When I tried to break it up they both turned. on me. One of them pulled a gun, the other had a knife. I got patched up in the emergency room and I came home.”

  “At six in the morning,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “But you were okay,” she said, with a puzzled frown.

  “I was okay until I went upstairs and saw my wife was in bed with another guy. A friend of mine. She told me it wasn’t the first time. She told me it wouldn’t be the last, as long as I was a cop. I told her I’d find another job, and I found this one. I told her about Harmony. About how different it was. Not risk free, but better. But it was too late. She wasn’t interested. She wanted to call it quits.” His voice was flat. His expression blank. But there was pain in his eyes he couldn’t conceal. Suzy knew now why he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. And how much it had cost him to tell the story. Her heart tripped, she blinked back a tear. He wouldn’t want her sympathy, but just in case...

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s over. She married somebody else, a meat packer or something, and she has a new life. So do I.”

  “But not a new wife.”

  “No. I’ll never get married again.”

  “But it’s not because of your job.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But Brady...”

  “I said it was.”

  He could say what he wanted, but Suzy saw the look on his face, heard the tone of his voice, and she knew that the real reason he’d never marry again had more to do with his wife’s infidelity than anything else. He’d been betrayed, he’d been hurt, and he’d never gotten over it. Maybe he never would.

  She didn’t have a chance to argue. Because at that moment they heard a key turn in the lock on the outside door and saw Hal amble down the hall toward the cell. When he saw them, he stopped in his tracks. He was so shocked, he dropped his key ring.

  “Sheriff. Suzy. What the hell?”

  “I’ll explain it all in a minute. Just let us out,” Brady said.

  As soon as the door swung open, Suzy grabbed one of the boxes from the diner and brushed past Hal on her way out to her car. Brady followed her with the other box.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said, after stowing the boxes in her trunk.

  “Don’t say anything,” she said. “Except goodbye.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “It doesn’t seem like enough. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

  “How do you want to leave me?” she asked, getting into her car. If she stayed another minute, she’d burst into tears and she’d done enough crying over Brady to last her a lifetime.

  He leaned over to talk to her through the open window. “I want to ask you something. You can say no if you want to, but I wondered...would you consider...”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Then another. “Yes?”

  “How would you like to be an honorary deputy? You’ve earned it.”

  “No.” She turned the key in the ignition, closed the window and left Brady standing in front of his office.

  Brady didn’t go right home. He stood there for a long time in the quiet of a Saturday morning, staring at the street where Suzy’s car had disappeared around the corner. She couldn’t get away fast enough. He didn’t blame her. It had been a hard night for her. Putting up with him and listening to the story of his life. Of course she didn’t want to be a deputy. What was he thinking?

  Now he had forms to fill but and phone calls to make. And he needed to get out an all-points bulletin on Bart. It took him half the day to do all the paperwork. Then he finally headed for home. To his big empty home and his big empty bed. He felt empty himself. He stood in the shower realizing he was drained. And there was no one to talk to. No one to eat with or sleep with. As if he wasn’t used to being alone. One night with Suzy and he was spoiled. He’d gotten used to having her around.

  He was too restless to enjoy the peace and quiet of the country and his barn, and his refrigerator was empty as usual. So after he’d showered and changed, he headed back to town to have dinner at the diner. Suzy wasn’t there. He ate by himself. People stopped by his table, but he didn’t feel like talking to them. Didn’t feel like explaining what had happened. So he didn’t. He ate and then he drove the few blocks to Suzy’s house. The lights were on all over her house.

  He could see her framed in the window of her living room. She was swinging Travis up in her arms. She might have been laughing. Travis might have been squealing. Brady’s gut tw
isted with some painful emotion he’d never felt before. Inside that room was love and laughter, and he’d never felt so alone in his life. Or so envious.

  He didn’t go in. Didn’t want to intrude on their family circle. If two could make a circle. He saw that it could. He sat there watching until Suzy pulled the drapes and turned off the light. Then he went home.

  He avoided the diner as much as he could for the next few weeks. He couldn’t stand watching Suzy wait on customers, wondering if she’d found somebody to marry her. Instead he had one of the deputies order him something to go, or he would heat some soup in the microwave oven. He worked late, though he didn’t really need to. But it was better than going home. Home. It wasn’t a home, it was a house. There were times, while he sat at his desk late at night, when he wondered why he’d run for sheriff. It was the loneliest, most ungratifying job in the world.

  One Monday morning a few weeks after the night in the jail, Hal burst into his office.

  “Didja hear about Suzy?” he asked.

  Brady looked up from his desk. The blood drained from his face. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have fallen down. “No, and I don’t want to,” he said.

  Hal stopped in his tracks. “But...”

  “I said I don’t want to,” he said and pounded on his desk for emphasis. He didn’t want to hear she was engaged or married or whatever. He didn’t want to hear about her. Period.

  “Okay,” Hal said. “Have it your way.” And he left.

  But the news ate Brady up. The news he hadn’t heard. The news he didn’t want to hear. It tore him apart. He paced back and forth. He put his hat on and opened the door. Then he took his hat off and sat down at his desk. He picked up the phone and slammed it down in its cradle. How could she? How could she marry someone else? If she married anybody, it had to be him.

  What about those nights when he didn’t come home? Would she look for company elsewhere as his wife had done? No, because she was Suzy. And he was not going to let her marry someone else.

  He grabbed his jacket, stormed out of the office and walked the three blocks to the diner. He opened the glass door just as she walked out.

  “Wait a minute, I came to see you,” he said, grabbing her by the arm.