“Mark’s right.” Annie got to her feet and wrapped an arm around Travis, caught her brother with her free hand, and squeezed his fingers in thanks. “And there’s blame, but it isn’t on you, Travis. You’re not in control of what your mother does.”
No, he wasn’t in control of his mother’s actions, Travis knew. It didn’t lessen the bitterness or the hurt. He sat with Annie on the sofa and snuggled her in one arm and Hank in the other, while the rise and fall of conversation around him soothed over his jangled nerves. He wouldn’t forget this day, not for a long time.
It was far from over. They still had to face the damned subpoena, and a court date had already been set. But this latest escapade would undoubtedly cost his mother some credibility points.
A few hours passed peacefully. One by one, the Turner family said their goodnights and trooped upstairs to bed, leaving Travis and his precious family clustered together on the sofa. Aunt Nan, the last to head up, kissed their cheeks before she left the room.
Sleepy-eyed, Hank babbled to the old stuffed dog in his arms. Travis recognized it as one he’d played with when he wasn’t much older than his son. Martha must have saved it all these years and given it to Hank when she had him upstairs with her at Quincy Hall.
He still couldn’t quite believe his mother had, in effect, kidnapped her own grandson. Though she kept him overnight, County Child Services ordered her to release Hank into their custody first thing the next morning, and two uniformed police had come to Quincy Hall and taken him. Travis found out Martha had refused to unlock the bedroom door, even after she heard their voices on the other side. Picturing it made him laugh aloud.
“What now?” Annie sent him a puzzled look.
He nestled her closer. “Oh, thinking about Martha, demanding to see some ID from those cops. She wouldn’t open the door until they slid their badges under so she could examine them.”
Annie released a coughing laugh. “Oh, Lord. I can see her doing it, too.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “We should head up. We’re both wiped out, and we have to go see that lawyer, Ms. Findley, tomorrow.” She moved away, stretched, and grabbed hold of the sofa arm to hoist herself up.
“Yeah, my energy levels spiked downward many hours ago.” Travis struggled to his feet with his son’s heavy weight on his shoulder, one hand still gripping the stuffed dog. “Let’s get the big guy to bed.” He carried Hank toward the foyer. Behind him, Annie snapped off lights.
“I think we should bring Hank with us tomorrow,” she commented as they climbed the stairs. “I don’t want him out of our sight.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.”
In the dark bedroom, Annie stroked Hank’s hair as he curled on his side and hugged the stuffed dog to his face. Seconds later she heard a tiny snort, Hank’s own baby version of a snore. She muffled a chuckle, afraid she’d awaken Susan.
When she turned to whisper goodnight to Travis, her jaw dropped at the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt. “What are you—Susan’s in here!”
He snapped on the low-wattage lamp between the beds, and she squeaked in alarm as she spun toward Susan. Only to stare, confused, at the empty bed.
“Where’s Susan?”
“She suggested we swap rooms for the next few nights. She thought we’d feel better if we’re both in here with Hank.” Travis sat down on Annie’s bed and pulled off his sneakers and socks, calmly undressing in front of her with her folks just down the hallway from them.
She sputtered, “My parents, Travis!”
He shrugged and sent her a slow smile as he stood and unfastened his jeans. “Your mama heard what Susan said to me. She just patted me on the head, the way she usually does.”
He slipped out of his jeans, and her mouth went dry at the look of him, the tanned, smooth skin and lean muscles. He took a step toward her, his eyes darkened with emotion. “We’re getting married soon. Your mama knows how much we love each other. If she’s okay with me sleeping in the same room with you and Hank, then I’m sure okay with it.”
He reached her side and ran a hand over her braided hair, loosening it. Strong fingers slid against her scalp and massaged away her tension, while his other hand brought her closer as he worked at the tangles. She leaned into his body, loving the feel of his bare skin beneath her cheek. He stroked his thumb along the curve of her mouth until it reached her chin, then tipped her head back and took her lips in a deep kiss.
How easy and familiar, to fall back on the old, faded bedspread with him. How exciting, as well as a touch forbidden, the idea they’d make love with family members three doors down from them. Even if they were married, she was certain she’d have been self-conscious.
Then her hesitancy melted away, at the force of need Travis’s kisses aroused in her. She met each one of them with hunger, moaning when he tugged at her clothes.
The soft creak of the bedsprings beneath them, as they shifted on the mattress, didn’t disturb the child who slept in the crib tucked into one corner of the room. In the dim light, their gazes locked as he rose above her.
“Annie.” He breathed her name into the warm, shadowed room. Her arms reached for him, welcomed him. When he pressed against her and their bodies meshed together, they both sighed.
Chapter 30
Catherine hadn’t been sleeping well at all.
It was her own fault. Listeners at keyholes usually heard things they’d rather not know about, and she had done a very stupid thing: she’d listened at the keyhole over at Quincy Hall. The evening of Travis’s birthday, she should have just kept walking right out of the house. But she hadn’t. Instead, after the bombshell she’d dropped concerning Travis’s and Annie’s baby, she’d made her exit but crept back toward the wide doors and hid behind them like the worst sort of eavesdropper. Why, she still wasn’t sure. Perhaps she’d needed to hear her mother finally acknowledge defeat, and then somehow persuade Ruth to give up, too.
Instead, her mother chose to conspire with Ruth. Some of the words were muted, but Catherine heard more than enough. She pressed a hand to her mouth, aghast, as Ruth plotted out what amounted to kidnapping her own grandson. A court would no doubt call it something else. They’d probably say it was a concerned and loving grandmother worried about the welfare and well-being of a small child.
But Catherine knew better. And so did her mother, damn it.
Just the other day Catherine had found bridal magazines—and heaven save her, upholstery swatches—in the library. It had to stop. Now, before her mother actually mailed out the engagement announcements stacked next to the swatches. Catherine was afraid to ask how long ago they’d been purchased.
She planned to drive out in about two hours, headed to New Haven. She nodded decisively as she snapped the suitcase shut and hefted it to the floor to sit beside the rest of the matched set. She’d had enough of Thompkin, enough of parental machinations. She longed for her uncomplicated, comfortable apartment.
But first she had to make it out to her car with her suitcases. And do it without the additional guilt, remorse, and disappointment her mother could so expertly heap on her.
She succeeded in getting all of her luggage out to the car, which was parked at the side of the house. As she went upstairs a final time for her purse and a small tote bag, her mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs and peered up at her.
“Cathy?” Just her name, but Catherine could hear the plea, as well as the demand, in her mother’s voice.
With a sigh she turned, smoothing down the skirt of her navy summer-weight suit. “Yes, Mother. I was coming to the parlor to say goodbye.” She paused, astonished at the sudden sheen of emotion in her mother’s eyes and the way she wrung her slender hands together.
“But, Cathy, why leave now, just when everything is coming together—”
“You know why I’m leaving now,” she reminded her mother as she descended the stairs. “I told you, and Ruth, too. I really don’t want to be here right now.”
One tear sp
illed over her mother’s lower lid and tracked slowly down her cheek. “You are so close, my dear, so close to attaining everything you’ve always wanted. Why would you throw it all away when you only have to reach out for it?”
Though her mother’s tears made her feel horrendous guilt, as they usually did, Catherine held firm. “It’s not what I want. It’s what you want. What Ruth wants. Please don’t insult my intelligence any further. If I’m very lucky, I won’t have lost Travis’s friendship during this entire debacle.”
“Travis won’t marry that girl, Cathy. Why, he’s coming home very soon. Ruth said—”
“For heaven’s sake, stop listening to what Ruth says. She knows nothing about her son, his goals and dreams, his needs. She never did.” Catherine fought her temper. She wanted to yank her hair out by the roots and stomp on it.
With a fortifying breath, she reached for her mother’s hand. “You have got to let me live my own life. For too long, I’ve gone along with this insane plot to capture Travis, thinking I was in love with him and he was the one for me. But he’s not, understand that. I deserve a man who’ll look at me the way Travis looks at Annie, Mother. I deserve no less than that.
“Please.” Catherine held her mother’s sad gaze. “Let me do what I think is best for me. Stop buying into Ruth’s madness.”
She leaned in and kissed her mother’s damp cheek, then released her hand and walked to the door. Turning, Catherine offered a strained smile. “I’ll call you in a few days. Maybe you can come up to New Haven and help me get ready for the semester. Stay a while. We could eat out at fast food diners and go shopping.”
“You know I abhor fast food.” There was a steadier note in her mother’s voice, though tears still streamed from her eyes. “I’ll miss you, Cathy. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mother. I’ll call you when I get to New Haven.” Catherine pulled the heavy door open and stepped out into the warm sunshine, breathed deeply, tasting her freedom, as well as the sweet scent of the primroses that grew in tangled profusion along the side porch.
After one more important stop, she’d be out of Thompkin. There was a lilt in her step, all the way to the car.
Annie paused in the open doorway of Mark’s old room with a purposely cheery smile on her face as she watched Sissy nursing Toby. That kind of bond between mother and child was so important. Remembering how incredible it had felt to nurse Hank, Annie was thrilled for Sissy to have a chance to experience it for herself.
Sissy looked up from admiring her son as Annie stepped through the door. Her cheeks flushed pink, but she made no move to cover herself, which in itself spoke volumes about the way her role as wife and now motherhood had matured her. Sissy was so painfully shy, it had amazed the family when Mark snared a first date with her. And look at her now; well balanced, secure, and content. It was wonderful.
“I just wanted to see this sweet boy, before we take off for Weston. We’ll be gone most of the day, and Mark mentioned last night that y’all might leave today?” There was a question in Annie’s voice as she sat down on the bed next to Sissy and caressed Toby’s downy cheek.
“I talked him out of it,” Sissy replied. “Your folks want to spoil Toby some more, and I’m not ready to leave everyone. We’ve got another three weeks, if we want to take them. I think we should stay right here. What if there’s more trouble?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Travis’s mama might try pulling something else. It’s best we stay awhile.” She supported the baby’s head and tiny shoulders when his mouth slipped from her nipple, his milky lips already going slack with sleep.
“Well, you sure won’t get any argument from me.” Annie held out her arms and Sissy handed Toby over. She rested against the pillows and fastened the front of her nightgown as Annie worked a noisy little burp from the dozing infant. She propped him on her shoulder and nuzzled him, loving the tender feel of him in her arms. “Oh, he’s so very adorable. He makes me want to have another of my own.”
“You’re not—” Sissy gestured with one hand and blushed.
“Oh, no!” Annie hastened to reassure her. “We’ve only been, um—” Now it was her turn to pinken. Sissy nodded in understanding as Annie confessed, “We’ve had only a few opportunities to be together. And we’ve been careful. I know it’s just a few weeks until the wedding, but we can’t afford another baby, at least not for a few years. I’m going to get a prescription for pills, I think. It’s the best thing to do.”
“Well, there, you see? We need to stay, for the wedding. In all the excitement of these past few days, I forgot. I’m so sorry.” Sissy was sweetly contrite, and Annie waved it away as she rocked her nephew in her arms.
“Gee, I wonder why you’d forget a thing like that? It’s not as if you had other pressing things to think about.” With reluctance, Annie handed the baby back to Sissy and stood, moving toward the door. One final glance over her shoulder and she just had to tease the new mother. “Enjoy it now, Sissy. Before you know it, he’ll be biting when he nurses.”
Sissy went milk-pale and gaped at her, then stared down in dawning horror at the innocent angel she held. Then back at Annie as she stammered, “They bite? Nobody told me they bite!” There was a note of panic in her voice that had Annie laughing all the way down the stairs.
In the kitchen, her mother cleaned Hank’s breakfast off his face. He bounced in his high chair as soon as he saw Annie in the doorway.
“Hank, hold still. You’ll fall right out and land on your head again.” Her mother scolded him as she scrubbed at his chin.
“Owd, owd, owd! Gammy! Owd!” Hank shrieked and clapped his pudgy hands, then stretched them out to Annie as she walked over to him. “Bye-bye, Ma-Ma? Bye-bye?” His eyes widened with excitement as he spied the sweater she held.
“Yes, you messy little monkey. Bye-bye. Now, sit still and let Gammy finish washing your face.” Annie frowned in mock-ferociousness, and Hank quieted in his seat and grinned angelically as her mother cleaned him up.
She bent and kissed his pink cheek, then laughed when he turned his head and gave her a smacking kiss on her mouth. “What a flirt you are. Be a good boy for your mama and daddy, you hear?” She ruffled his hair and deftly lifted him out of the chair.
Annie dressed him in his bright blue sweater, then patted his denim-covered rump and instructed, “Go find Daddy.” Hank tottered off in the direction of the living room, calling for “Da” with every bounce he took on his hi-top sneakers.
“Well, he’s full of pee and vinegar this morning. You sure you want to take him with you?” Her mother swiped the wet cloth over the highchair, cleaning off a few smears of cereal.
“I’ll feel better having him with us, Mama. He’ll probably fall asleep in the car.” Annie picked up the diaper bag that sat by the front door and commented, “By the way, I talked to Sissy. They decided to stay another few weeks.”
“That’s just fine. I hoped, but I didn’t like to ask, you know. I haven’t had near enough time with Toby.”
“No, neither have I. And things might start to get ugly with Ruth Quincy.” Annie hated to formulate in words what her thoughts didn’t want to admit to.
“Now, there’ll be none of that. It’s going to work out. There’s nothing she can throw at us that we can’t work through, honey. Aunt Nan decided to stay a while longer too, at least as long as Mark and Sissy. She’s got some crazy idea that I might overdo it, doting on a newborn baby day and night.” Her mother slipped her arms around Annie and cradled her, diaper bag and all. Annie rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and gave in to the luxury of being treated like a little girl.
How many times had her mama been there for her, with open arms and loving reassurances? All of her life. She was so very lucky. Surely her luck would continue to hold through anything.
For a minute they snuggled together with Hank’s blue plaid diaper bag hanging off Annie’s arm, and they drew what both needed from each other. Annie raised her head and smiled into her mother’s
eyes, about to speak, when the doorbell suddenly pealed.
“Who could that be?” Annie set the diaper bag down and walked to the door. Just before she grasped the knob, she turned to her mother. “You think it could be that county child welfare office again?”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
Annie nodded and peeked through the tiny peephole. “Oh, Lord.” She pulled the inside door open and stood behind the screen, staring at the young woman who stood there in a dark blue suit. It had been over two years, but Annie knew who she was.
“Hello, Annie. I—” Catherine Cabot faltered, then straightened her shoulders determinedly. “May I come in?”
A few minutes later, Catherine sat on the living room sofa, her feet pressed together, toe to heel. Her hands, with their short, neat nails, lay folded in her lap. In her pretty navy suit, she seemed calm and capable, but Annie could see the uncertainty in her eyes.
On the floor, Hank played with his dump truck and plastic cars, occasionally pounding them together and then giggling with glee. Next to him, Travis sat cross-legged and kept one eye on their son and the other eye warily on Catherine, probably wondering the same as Annie wondered what on earth had brought her to Spring Street.
She should be furious that Catherine would just show up on the doorstep and ask to speak to her, then sit there silently and look all around at the room and the furnishings as if she’d never seen anything like it before. Annie doubted Catherine’s ability to understand or be able to relate to a life so foreign to her own.
As if to confound her, Catherine raised her eyes from watching Hank play with his toys. “He’s a lovely boy. You’re very lucky, Annie. I’m sure you know that.” She glanced around the room again and added, “Your home is so warm. It feels happy. It seems like a good place to raise a child.”
“Thank you.” Annie was stunned, to say the least. For years she’d envied this girl, jealous of the preference Travis’s mother showed toward her. But now, she looked at her rival’s face and saw only wistful envy. No vindictiveness, just longing and regret in Catherine’s pale gray eyes.
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