Just a Little Lie (Shades of Deception, Book 1)

by Mallory Rush

  "We could make it a fivesome by next year if you weren't so hardheaded about me entering school next fall."

  "Mariah," he said warningly. "We agreed—no babies, so you can take this year off to study. Finish school fast and open your practice on the farm first. Then we'll see about making the next generation of Standishes. If we have a few kids, maybe there'll be a natural dairy farmer in the bunch."

  "Okay, okay." She sighed, then smiled. After she'd made Sol realize he was the wind beneath her wings, he'd gotten cocky enough to create a fair amount of turbulence. Drawing upon LaVerne's sage advice, she relented enough to make peace while asserting her space. "I've read most of the textbooks, and Hilda's been a wonderful practice patient. Did you know veterinarians have to be even smarter than regular doctors?"

  "Hmmm. Seems I've heard you say, it's because animals can't tell you what's wrong with them and people can?"

  Laughing, Mariah realized that in her newfound passion for the calling she felt her gift was intended for, she had rambled on about what she was learning. Now that she was sure of herself as an individual and a woman, she no longer hid what she had been born with. In fact, she rather liked showing off to Sol, who was most impressed with her "sexy brain," as he'd put it.

  "Besse did not die in vain," she said, suddenly serious. "That's when the idea to become a vet took hold in me. One day, Sol, I'll revolutionize veterinary medicine. I'm going to explore treatment procedures that no one's even thought about. I'm already working on some ideas in my head. You were right—waste is a crime, and I'm giving back to nature what nature gave me."

  "That's my girl," he said proudly. "Better yet, that's my wife and my lover. Did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you talk smart? C'mon, baby, whisper some statistics and formulas in my ear. You know how that turns me on."

  "You turn me on," she murmured, undulating beneath him. "Even more than animal husbandry."

  "I am animal husbandry, love. After all, I'm an animal..." He bit her neck and tongued her ear before he whispered possessively, "and your husband."

  *

  "Well, if it's not the special-delivery boy. Welcome to the neighborhood, Turns."

  Turns and Sol shook hands, then discarded that for a bear hug. Holding Sol away, Turns looked him up and down, shaking his head while his eyes grew suspiciously moist.

  "Where are your crutches, big man? Last time I saw you they were the only things holding you up."

  "Yeah, well, there's a special someone who gave me a reason to get on my feet. I wanted to surprise you."

  "Surprise me? First you outwit the Grim Reaper and then you make those damn doctors into a bunch of liars."

  "Careful how you talk about doctors around here." Sol wrapped an arm around Turns's shoulder and escorted him to his parents' great room, where Christmas music was playing.

  The huge pine he and Mariah had cut down and hauled to the big house, and which the whole family had spent hours decorating, twinkled a welcome. Sol's favorite ornament was a big, tacky one printed with "First Christmas Together"—an early present from Ma and Dad, which was identical to the ones he and Mariah had bought separately, then exchanged with each other.

  O'Henry had nothing on them, they'd declared, laughing, while hanging up the three duplicate uglies.

  "Smells like Christmas around here, pal," Turns said. "I can almost hear the jingle bells."

  "Dad's hitching the horses, so more than likely you're hearing right. Thought we might all go on a sleigh ride tonight to celebrate the season, now that the best of friends is here to share it—and, of course, that long-awaited legal document."

  Turns's smile went flat, but Sol was too caught up in the festive spirit to pay it much heed.

  "Hey, Mom, Mariah, look who's here! Got a mighty important person for you to meet." As Mariah and LaVerne turned from the tree, Sol said quietly, "You want to know why I'm walking? You're about to meet her. She practically kicked me in the butt when I got off the plane with a chip on my shoulder, held me up when I stumbled, and even when she's nowhere in sight, she's still with me every step of the way. In other words, I'm crazy about her."

  "Sol, we need to talk."

  "Sure, Turns, lots to catch up on. And heeere she is," Sol announced as Mariah and LaVerne drew near. Sol wrapped an arm around each of their waists. "This is my wife, Mariah, and the other fair lady who answers to Mrs. Standish is—"

  "Mrs. Standish, it's a pleasure." Turns tipped his hat, avoiding more than a fleeting glance at Mariah.

  "Call me Vernie, Turns. Or Mom, since I feel like you're part of the family, what with you being a household name."

  "And I want to thank you, Turns," Mariah chimed in, "for arranging our marriage and doing all the hard work to see that the paperwork was taken care of. I'm sorry for my own holdup. It's more my fault than anyone's for the delay, so don't let Sol give you a hard time."

  "I'll give you a hard time," Sol whispered softly in her ear. Mariah snickered and planted an elbow in his side while Turns became strangely preoccupied with the tips of his shoes.

  "Eggnog, Turns?" LaVerne was already heading for the punch bowl in the kitchen.

  "Uh... Mariah, you think maybe Vernie needs some help?" Turns looked at her hopefully while he turned his hat in his hands. "I need a minute alone with your husband."

  When Mariah started to leave, Sol tightened his hold on her. "What's the matter?" he said brusquely.

  "It's..." Turns cleared his throat. "It's about your marriage certificate. Maybe Mariah should go to the kitchen with your mother before we discuss this."

  "Mariah's not going to the kitchen, Turns, unless that's where she prefers to be. Anything you've got to say to me can be said with her present." The eggnog he'd had earlier churned uneasily in his stomach. Darting a concerned glance from Turns to Mariah, he asked, "You want to stay or leave?"

  "I'm not going anywhere until I know what this is all about. What seems to be the problem, Turns?"

  "God, this is bad." Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out an envelope. "I was afraid I couldn't say it, so I wrote it down just in case."

  Sol took the envelope, practically tearing it in half as he opened it. He extracted a single sheet of typed paper, and holding it between him and Mariah, he read in unison with her.

  "Dear Sol and Mariah:

  Please forgive me. Before you throw me out on my keister, I just ask for enough time to explain. But the long and short of it is...

  You're not married.

  Love, Turns."

  "Not married?" Mariah said faintly.

  Sol crumpled the sheet of paper in his hand as if it were Turns's neck he was choking.

  "Eggnog's here!" LaVerne extended a Santa Claus mug to their guest.

  "I..." Turns paused. "I'm not sure if I'm going to be around long enough to drink that."

  "Take it." Sol's voice was low but sharp. Mariah flinched; Sol was intimidating to the point of being scary when he got like this. Deciding she could handle him better than anyone else, Mariah decided to quickly intercede.

  "Yes, Turns, have some eggnog," she said graciously. "In fact, why don't the three of us sit in the living room and talk about this?"

  "I think Dad might need some help with the horses. I'll come back with him later." With that, LaVerne disappeared.

  When Sol didn't move, Mariah stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Whispering in his ear, she said firmly, "You've been friends too long not to give Turns a fair hearing. If you won't do it for him, do it for me."

  He hesitated, then gave a curt nod. Once they were seated, Sol tightened his arm around her while Turns mopped his brow. "Silent Night" played on.

  "Start talking," Sol finally said.

  "Okay, but don't stop me until I'm through." Turns took a deep breath, then started talking fast. "When Sol was dying I tried to do my best to give him his final wish. The problem was that a chaplain was nowhere around so I made do with the closest orderly."

  "What? You mean some kid jugg
ling bedpans officiated?"

  "I didn't have a choice, Sol. And I know I should have come clean afterward but you were in such sorry shape, holding in so much anger and ranting about how you should never have gotten married. I knew if I told you the truth then you wouldn't give Mariah a chance, that you'd go from bad to worse if you didn't have someone to think about besides yourself."

  "He's right, Sol," Mariah agreed quietly. "You've said as much yourself."

  "Why didn't you tell me sooner instead of doing all this backing and forthing of papers and mouthing lip service about the union being blessed by God?"

  "Because I figured out Mariah was probably a kid. Sorry, Mariah. I was dead wrong."

  "He admitted he was wrong, Sol. Give him a break—"

  "I'll give him a break, right between the—"

  Turns interrupted. "When she didn't send me her birth certificate, I started getting the picture. But I wanted to buy you both some time—especially you, Sol. That's why I didn't say anything about it missing until you started getting antsy."

  Mariah and Sol exchanged glances, then said in unison, "But why didn't you tell us after we sent it?"

  "To tell you the truth, I didn't think the 'marriage' would work out. I was trying to give Sol a chance to get back on his feet and at the same time saving him the trouble of a divorce. Believe me, my intentions were good, and I couldn't be happier that I was wrong about things going sour. By the time I realized the two of you were going to make it, I was so deep into this crazy thing, I knew I had to see you both in person to explain. My fear was that Sol would hang up on me if I gave him the news over the phone and never speak to me again. Of course, that's still a very real possibility."

  Not married? Mariah blinked while a numb sensation set in and realization finally hit. She was staring at the lapping flames of the roaring fire when she reached for Sol's hand—and grasped emptiness. He'd gotten up to walk toward the fireplace, where he braced his palms against the mantel. The Christmas carol was over, and only the crackle and splinter of burning wood sounded in the absolute silence. Suddenly, he threw Turns's wadded-up letter into the fireplace.

  Sol turned. His brow creased into a frown, he stared hard at Turns... and then Mariah. Sol shook his head, but his frown softened. His lips went from a thin line to a gentle curve as he slowly smiled. The smile became a grin, then grew to a chuckle, and finally rolled into a resounding guffaw.

  Mariah and Turns looked from Sol to each other, their own lips beginning to twitch, though she wasn't sure what was so funny.

  "Get your butt over here, baby," he ordered, opening his arms wide. "Your common-law husband needs a kiss."

  Mariah was off the couch and in his embrace in a second. When he was through kissing her, and she done kissing him back, Sol motioned Turns to join them. Once he did, Sol wrapped his arms around his two deceivers.

  "I guess this means we're still friends?" Turns said hopefully.

  "Better than friends. You're going to be my best man. You know, this is just about the most ironic joke and the kindest twist of fate life ever threw in my direction."

  "It... it is?" Turns asked.

  "Don't you get it? The whole thing's a scream. The truth is, if you or Mariah had been truthful from the start, I'd be miserable, she'd be miserable, and we wouldn't have a wedding to plan starting this very minute."

  The unexpected sound of stomping boots and animated laughter rushed in from the front door.

  "Mariah, honey, guess what the wind blew in all the way from Mobile, Alabama?" LaVerne said.

  "Looks like we won't even have to mail out invitations," Sol said, striding forward to shake hands and exchange hugs with his in-laws. "Turns. Dr. Tom and Nita Garnet. And Beth. If she looks familiar, it's because you saw her—never mind. We've had enough explanations, at least until I've taken care of an important detail."

  Mariah, still stunned by all the revelations and Sol's switch of moods, was the only one who didn't move as everyone formed a circle around her and Sol.

  She felt his hands, so warm and strong, cup her face. His smile faded and he stared down at her with purpose and limitless love. Covering his hands with her own, she felt the unity of skin to skin, of wedding rings that bespoke their unbreakable bond.

  "Mariah," he said solemnly, "will you marry me?"

  Epilogue

  A roaring fire blazed. Poinsettias sparkled with glitter from all over the farmhouse's living room. Snowflakes drifted outside the window in a serene dance of nature. It was, Sol thought, about the most beautiful setting for a wedding he'd ever laid an eye on.

  Standing in front of the Christmas tree with Turns and Beth on either side of him, Sol watched Mariah slowly walk up the hallway of this home that had seen joy and tears and life with three generations of Standishes. He counted himself damn lucky to have that heritage to share with Mariah. She wore his mother's wedding dress, which had been her mother's and her mother's before her.

  He met Mariah halfway, and amid Nita's and LaVerne's sniffles, Tom's and Herbert's nods of approval, and the rustle of wedding finery, the ceremony commenced.

  The minister spoke of love and miracles, truth and trust—all the things that bound Sol and Mariah and which they had asked to be a part of their vows. So caught up in the radiance that was his wife, Sol was caught off guard when Turns nudged him.

  "Sol," the minister repeated, "do you take this woman, Mariah Garnet, for your lawfully wedded wife?"

  Heedless of tradition, Sol drew back her veil and stole the wedding kiss, then said firmly, "I do."

  "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss—"

  "That's been taken care of." Sol hoisted his wife into his arms and strode through the living room. The murmurs of friends and family blended with LaVerne's sudden playing of the wedding march on the piano.

  "Sol, what do you think you're doing?" Mariah squirmed in his arms, then gasped when he swatted her behind in front of everyone.

  "What I've been dying to do since the first day I held you." Stopping short of the door, he captured her lips for a fierce kiss. "I'm carrying my bride over the threshold."

  The End

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  JUST A LITTLE TABOO

  Shades of Deception

  Book Two

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  Just a Little Taboo

  Shades of Deception

  Book Two

  by

  Mallory Rush

  Bestselling, Award-winning Author

  "Why, Cammie? Why did it take you so long to see how I felt about you?" Grant asked fiercely.

  "I don't know." She took one last, forbidden feel of his thigh beneath her palm, then forced her hand away. "But we're playing with something dangerous and we have to stop."

  He lifted one hand to her neck, brushed it down the slender column with a feather-light touch, then stroked his thumb over the hollow where her pulse thrummed in a give-away rush.

  She cursed herself for the immediacy of her response, for the wildness surging against her will. "You shouldn't do that."

  He bent his head closer, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought he would kiss her. "How can anything so good be wrong?" he asked simply.

  She didn't have an answer.

  "Have I ever told you how I feel whenever our eyes meet?" he murmured.

  She shook her head, pulling away as he caressed the curls at her nape.

  "No? Well, did I ever tell you how I wish I could bury my face in your hair?"

  "No," she whispered.

  "You have no idea the number of times I've imagined tasting your mouth, devouring it, kissing you until you whimpered for more."

  "Please," she begged. "Please stop."

  "I won't force you, Cammie. But you are fighting yourself, not me. Like it or not, you do want me. And we both know it..."

  Just a Little Taboo

  Shades of Deception
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  Mallory Rush

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  Shades of Deception

  Book Three

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  Bestselling, Award-winning Author

  "I came here to make sure you and the baby were all right and to work out an arrangement. But you seem to have your own ideas about this pregnancy and they apparently don't include me." Myles folded the paper and tucked it back into his pocket. "I'll hang onto this nice little incriminating piece of evidence. Just in case things get nasty and we end up in court."

  Faith shook her head in mute denial. Morning sickness rolled up her stomach with a vengeance. She staggered back several steps, thinking that none of this could be happening, and that surely she wasn't going to be sick.

  But she was. She felt sick to her stomach and in her heart. The baby was hers now. Hers to carry and nurture and raise. After Gloria died, she knew she could never relinquish the child to Myles. She couldn't tell him the truth, and guilt over the deception would have made contact painful.

  "Excuse me," she whispered. "I think I'm going to throw up." Faith covered her mouth with her hand and half ran, half wove her way to the bathroom.