She arrived home and started up the staircase, careful not to loosen the fragrant garland wrapped around the handrail. Christmas beauty adorned the house, thanks to Jimmy Mac. He had done most of the decorating, carrying in armloads of fresh green boughs cut from the mature trees and shrubs at Dreamland. Taking ivy, bay, laurel, and eucalyptus, he entwined a lavish garland for the stair rail and a wreath that hung above the fireplace mantle. The Christmas tree was a healthy fir, standing tall in a corner in the parlor and saturating the air with its fresh, wintry kiss. Her mother had decorated it with gold foil and white sugared candies made by Cassie. Ornate crystal vases were packed full of scarlet carnations and holly accents, placed throughout the house as festive centerpieces for the coffee, end, hall, and dining tables.
Julianna was feeling physically stronger these days, and mentally, the baby had inspired her to introduce some holiday warmth to what was normally a solemn abode. Even if she had not participated in decorating, she could at least appreciate what it did for the place and was somewhat interested in how her surroundings made her feel. She thought of Ambrose Point then, of how comfortable and safe the house had seemed. In some ways, it echoed like a lifetime ago, and Sheriff Moll seemed a stranger, so sharp on the phone as though her inquiries about the beach property had offended him, when all she wanted to do was ensure its safety since she was unable to care for it herself. She wondered what he would think if he knew she was carrying a baby who was conceived in that very house.
She smiled as she always did when thoughts of the baby floated up, which was more often than not these days. She had known for a month now and was eager to tell the world, though it was out of the question at the moment.
She still had not broken the news to Leyton. She could kick herself for drawing out the inevitable, but there never seemed to be a good time. Nature, though, wouldn’t keep her secret much longer. While her height might buy her more time than a shorter, more compact woman, her waistline had become a fond memory. Her dresses, though let out to capacity, were again uncomfortably snug, reminding her with a pinch that the need for maternity fashions was closing in.
It was getting late, and she retired to the bedroom. Wearing only her dressing gown, Julianna sat before the vanity to ready herself for bed. Studying her face, she saw that there was indeed a glow to her skin. Curious, she got up from the vanity seat and went to the chivalry mirror. Turning sideways, she pulled her gown tightly across her stomach. Yes, there was definitely a slight pudginess where none had been before. The sight of it ignited even more excited curiosity in Julianna. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, she bunched it up and stuffed it under her gown then viewed her profile again.
From the doorway, Leyton’s voice intruded. “It appears as though you’re due in April.”
Mortified, Julianna snatched the pillow from beneath her gown and whirled around, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He was leaning against the doorframe, a drink in one hand and a sneer contorting his face. “I haven’t heard you tell me about your impending blessed event.”
The room swam before Julianna’s eyes, inflicting her with such vertigo that she had to sit in the reading chair in the corner. “You know.” It was a statement, not a question. This was Leyton she was facing, and didn’t he always have some amazing way of finding out everything about her? Still fresh in her mind was the fluke of his good fortune that had led him to find her in Ambrose Point. “How? Did you see Dr. Graham?”
“Last week at the club,” Leyton answered. He rattled the ice cubes in his glass. “Imagine my surprise when he congratulated me on the baby.”
“Last week?” Julianna cried. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” She held up her hand then, a half laugh tumbling from her lips. “No wait, I know. You assumed that I was agonizing over how to tell you—and decided to prolong the fun for yourself.”
“You’re quite on the mark,” he said. “But now that the truth is on the table, do quench my curiosity, love. How were you planning to break the news?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Of course I don’t know,” she said, irritated. “It’s not an easy position to be in.”
“No, it’s not,” he said as he strode into the room. Reaching the vanity, he set down his drink and folded his arms across his chest. “So, Jace McAllister gets you pregnant then gets himself killed. What a guy!”
“Leyton, please.” Julianna held her head in her hands. “Don’t start anything.”
“I don’t need to,” he said as he retrieved his drink and moved toward their walk-in closet. “You and McAllister have started enough trouble. But don’t worry, I could be willing to keep your little secret.” He stepped into the closet and swept apart a row of hanging clothes then began spinning the dial on the wall safe hidden behind them. “You must be rather surprised, Julianna, that I’m reacting so calmly to this problematic news,” he called.
She was wondering about that. It was strange behavior from a man who had sent her sprawling into the rain for gaining a little weight.
He emerged from the closet with some papers in his hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting them at her.
“What’s this?”
“My bill for being your ally.”
She unfolded the papers, the letterhead jumping out at her in black scrolling print.
Gillian, Smith and Cooper, Attorneys at Law.
Beneath that, capitalized and underlined, were the ominous words:
AGREEMENT: LEYTON AND JULIANNA DRAKEWORTH
What followed was a close rendition of the agreement she had in mind, only in Leyton’s version was the promise to claim paternity in exchange for his wife’s trust fund.
Dear Lord, have I sunk to this man’s level? she wondered, alarmed that she and Leyton had thought enough alike to come up with similar plans. She had considered her idea decent and fair, but if it truly was, would Leyton have dreamt it up as well? To think that they were like-minded . . . it was a thought she’d rather not entertain.
“Is it worth my silence, Julianna?”
She refolded the papers and placed them in her lap. “Your silence isn’t what I want.”
“Is that so?” His eyes bored into hers. “Suppose you tell me what you want.”
“I want you to let me have this child in peace—I’ll give you my trust fund in exchange for that.” She met his hard stare. “But I don’t want you making any claims to paternity.”
“You don’t want me to—what, Julianna?” If there was ever an honest moment in Leyton’s life, this had to be it. Looking sincerely perplexed by Julianna’s statement, he gaped as he searched her face with disbelieving eyes. “Have you lost your mind? I imagine you have if you believe your father will let you keep McAllister’s brat.”
“My father has no say in this matter,” Julianna said, clenching her teeth. Why did everyone think her father was the final authority on the issues in her life? She supposed it was a natural, knee-jerk reaction, but it was time people realized that Richard Sheffield was no longer his daughter’s keeper.
“Insisting on truth doesn’t make someone insane,” she answered, “but lying can lead to it.”
“What good could come from telling your father the truth?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I do know that not an ounce of good will come from lying. Father is going to question the baby’s paternity, and I want the facts out in the open. Now, not later, when the truth could be used against me.”
“So, what am I supposed to be?” Leyton pointed a thumb at his chest. “The great martyr of 1934? Some devoted idiot willing to accept another man’s mistake?”
His words singed her. “This child is not a mistake, Leyton. A surprise, maybe, but deeply wanted, hoped for, prayed for, wished for.”
He waved her off. “Stop waxing poetic.”
Bristling, she rose from the chair and stepped toward him, stopping only inches from his face. “Do you
want my trust fund or not?”
“Say that I do,” he said. “How do you envision me giving this news to your father?”
“He’ll listen to you before he’ll listen to anyone else,” she said. “I want you to make it clear how important this child is to me, and then I want you to make it clear that you, my husband, intend to stand beside me.”
“This is going to make for one interesting conversation,” he predicted. “But fine, we’ll do it your way.” He tossed his hands in the air, like someone throwing confetti. “Let the chips fall where they may.”
The agreement was rewritten and signed the next morning. In the dark paneled offices of Gillian, Smith and Cooper, Julianna watched Leyton put his signature to paper, swearing not to interfere with her having and keeping the baby. Finished, he handed her the pen and folded his arms and lifted his chin in triumph, gloating as she rerouted her trust fund to his pockets.
She threw him a disgusted look as she returned the pen to its holder. Who was he to gloat? This idea was as much hers as it was his. She thanked Randall Gillian for his help before gathering her purse and coat to leave. Leyton shook the attorney’s hand and followed Julianna out the door and onto the sidewalk where they stood in the blinding winter sun.
“That’s that,” Leyton said as he briskly rubbed his hands in the frosty morning air. “Nothing left to do now, love, except break the news to Grandpappy.”
“Are you still planning to do it tonight?” Julianna’s teeth chattered in the cold.
“The sooner the better, wouldn’t you say?” His eyes dropped briefly to her stomach.
“Mother said dinner will be at seven-ish.”
Impatient, he said, “Dinner at Dreamland is always at seven-ish. How often do we eat there, Julianna? At least once a week.”
“Yes, but,” she pulled her coat more tightly about her, “most of our visits are pretty uneventful. This one will be quite different.”
“Oh, indeed,” Leyton said as he turned on his heel and began walking down the sidewalk and toward the car.
Julianna knew that Leyton enjoyed taunting her, that he would amuse himself at her expense whenever the opportunity came along. Knowing that, she should not have been surprised by the time and place he chose to break the news of her pregnancy to her father. Yet she was taken aback, having imagined him bringing up the matter in private, not at the dinner table just minutes after dessert had been set before them.
With the fanfare of rising to his feet and tapping a spoon against his crystal water goblet, he prepared to make his announcement.
Her father, unaccustomed to interruptions during his meals, gave his son-in-law a look of surprise. His eyes were curious, not harsh as they might have been had anyone else been bold enough to stand up at the dinner table and play chimes on a glass.
“Forgive the outburst, sir,” Leyton said, “but I believe Julianna considers my news worthy of a prelude.”
He was determined to make the moment as uncomfortable as possible for Julianna, but she refused to let his dramatics raise a reaction from her. Inside, though, she wanted to die and had to force herself not to hold her breath. There was no turning back now.
Her father laid his fork beside his dessert plate and gave Leyton his full attention.
“I’m most curious, son.”
“It has to do with some information received by our Julianna,” Leyton said as he stepped away from his chair and went to Julianna. Standing behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “We didn’t believe it was possible, but Julianna is going to have a baby.”
Julianna smiled, hoping that her lips did not quiver, reflecting the state of her nerves.
Perspiration dotted her forehead as her father turned his eyes toward her and rested them on her face. Still, she met his gaze and nodded her head. “It’s true.”
For the moment, her father appeared to be pleased with the news and studied her with interest. “This is a surprise. I would never have imagined such an announcement.”
Her mother jumped in. “The doctors never actually used the word impossible. They said unlikely. It’s just that Julianna always had so many problems that we only assumed there would never be any children.”
“Yes, well.” Her father cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable discussing medical conditions of the female anatomy. He turned to his wife. “You already knew about this?”
“Of course, dear,” she answered. “Naturally, a girl would tell her mother right away.”
He returned his attention to Julianna. “When is the child due?”
Struck by a wave of fear, Julianna kept her answer vague. “In the spring.” Then, annoyed by her own cowardice, she added, “April, to be exact.”
She closed her eyes, knowing that her father was silently doing the mathematics. When she opened them again, it was clear that his demeanor had changed, that suspicion darkened his features. He grabbed his fork and jabbed it into the slice of pound cake on his dessert plate.
Gruffly, he said, “One hardly discusses such intimate things at the dinner table.”
The remainder of dessert was awkward, with every sound amplified. Ice clinking against goblets seemed exceptionally loud, and forks scraped across plates with a nerve-jarring pitch. It seemed to drag on for an eternity, but her father finally pushed his plate aside and stood. “I’m retiring to the study. Leyton, as usual, I’d like your company.”
“Always my pleasure,” Leyton said, rising and following Richard from the dining room.
Julianna and her mother waited for their footsteps to subside from the hallway, followed by the door to the study closing.
Clearly nervous, her mother lifted her water goblet with trembling hands. “The truth is on its way out. Just as you wanted . . .”
“It’s for the best,” Julianna reaffirmed, both to her mother and to herself. With the moment at hand, a tinge of troubling doubt had found its way into her thoughts. Certainly, it would be easier to go along with Leyton’s original version of the agreement, to allow her father to think that the child was Leyton’s. Much easier, yes, but better in the long run? She shook her head, trying to force the doubt away. Ultimately, only the truth would protect her and the baby.
“My stomach is in knots,” her mother said as she stood. “I can’t just sit here and wait. Come, darling, let’s try to hear what the men are saying.”
“With the door closed, we won’t be able to hear anything,” Julianna said. “Unless Father starts yelling.”
“In that case,” her mother sighed, “we should be able to hear everything.”
Sensing her mother was right, Julianna fell in behind her as she walked toward the study. Julianna sat at the writing desk in the foyer. Jittery, she picked up a pen and scribbled lines of scrolling doodles on a piece of stationary. Her mother, appearing just as anxious, tidied up her seasonal knickknacks and inspected the leaves of her white poinsettias for signs of wilting. The lavish garland on the stair rail was created from fresh greenery, made even more festive by the addition of homemade gingerbread men dangling from green ribbons.
“Aren’t these fellows just the cutest things?” her mother asked, her voice shaking despite her cheery tone. “The only problem is that I keep nibbling at them.” As if to demonstrate, she broke off the foot of one gingerbread man and popped it into her mouth. “Would you like his other foot?”
Julianna nodded and took the broken cookie, though she barely tasted its spicy sweetness. All her senses were preoccupied with Leyton and her father.
Richard was not a man to waste time.
The door to the study was barely shut before he turned to Leyton. “What are the chances that McAllister is the father of Julianna’s baby?”
Leyton stood with his arms to his sides, wrestling with mixed emotions. On one hand, he didn’t mind telling the truth because it meant Julianna would fall even further from Richard’s favor. On the other hand, he couldn’t deny some humiliation in saying that his wife carried another man’s child. S
o what if he felt no attraction toward her? She was still his wife.
“Leyton?” Richard was waiting for an answer. “What are the chances—”
“One hundred percent,” Leyton said quickly, thinking of the trust fund. “Julianna was so distressed over McAllister’s death, that we—well, we didn’t have marital relations right away.”
What happened next, Leyton couldn’t quite classify. A roar, perhaps. Maybe a loud growl or a guttural curse. Without a doubt, it was an expression of Richard’s disapproval, and he put an exclamation mark behind it by snatching a glass paperweight and hurling it across the room. It slammed against the wall, inches from the window, left a hole, and dropped to the floor with a thud.
Next, he poured himself a strong drink, so absorbed in his anger that he failed to offer one to Leyton. He took a long, slow sip of the liquor and seemed to savor its fire, perhaps soothing his agitated nerves the way a flaming hearth comforts on a cold night. Another sip followed, and then another, until he finally spoke, this time without yelling.
“Something has to be done.”
Now it was Leyton’s turn to make a drink. His back to Richard, he dropped ice cubes into a glass and followed with bourbon. In one swift gulp, he downed the drink then poured himself another. Only then did he feel prepared to turn and face his father-in-law.
“I’ve given this horrendous situation a great deal of thought,” he said, chasing his words with a quick swallow of bourbon. “And while I’m sure this will come as a shock, I’ve decided to allow Julianna to have the child.”
Richard was on him in a minute, looking appalled. He gave Leyton’s shoulder a push, as if trying to knock him from a daze. “What are you talking about, man?”
His pride stinging, Leyton felt the back of his neck tingle. He took another drink and thought about Julianna’s trust fund, the combination helping him maintain composure. “The baby will be good for Julianna, sir. It will keep her grounded and contented, and less likely to succumb to the wanderlust that got her into trouble in the first place.”
Seeking the Shore Page 6