“I know what you didn’t feel,” he said. “I’ve seen women physically in love and, believe me, you weren’t one of them.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re a great expert on the physical side of love,” Helene said sarcastically.
“Do you doubt it?” he said, staring her down, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck.
“There are other things in the world besides sex, things two people can share in a marriage,” Helene replied. “There’s mutual respect and caring and a reverence for the same way of life and...”
“All of that was going to keep your bed warm?” Chris interjected. “Poor Martin. Maybe he’s better off dead.”
Helene gasped. “You bastard,” she cried, pushing past him and running down the hall to her room. She locked the door behind her and, trembling, began flinging items into the single bag she’d brought.
She would be all right when she got home, to her family and the job that was due to resume in September. Over the summer she would have plenty of time to think about the baby.
She sat down on the edge of the bed. On the way out to Wyoming she had stopped at a pharmacy and purchased a home pregnancy test, and before the funeral that morning she had taken it.
The results were positive.
The fluid in the test tube turning pink had only confirmed what she already knew; she had always been regular and she was now a month overdue. She and Martin had taken no precautions because they thought they’d be married soon. Helene had half hoped for a baby to give her something positive to concentrate on, Martin’s child to drive the specter of Chris Murdock from her thoughts.
Now that Martin was dead, of course, she would have to carry on alone with the baby. It would be difficult, money would be tight and she would have to find suitable day care. But if she had been able to endure the time since Martin’s death, she was convinced that she could now stand anything.
She remembered the box from the pregnancy test, which she had carefully wrapped in its brown paper bag and stowed at the bottom of the wastepaper basket. On second thought, she decided to put it back into her overnight case and take it with her.
She went over to the basket and discovered that it had been emptied. Maria, of course. Helene should have thought of that, but she was not used to servants following after her and tidying up her room. Oh well, it was just a brown bag—it might have contained somebody’s discarded lunch. Maria had probably put it outside already. But just to be on the safe side Helene decided to go down to the kitchen and see if Maria had left it in the plastic container there prior to taking it out to the shed. Now I’m reduced to picking through garbage, Helene thought, sneaking past the empty living room. She was bending over the receptacle and rummaging through its contents when Chris said behind her, “Looking for this?”
Helene whirled to face him. He was holding the empty blue box by its flap, swinging it back and forth.
Helene felt her blood begin to thunder in her ears. “Where did you get that?” she demanded.
He smiled unpleasantly. “No defense like a good offense, huh?” he said.
“Have you been going through my things?” she asked angrily, her mind racing wildly.
“Didn’t have to. Maria found this in your room and thought I should see it.”
“I didn’t realize that Maria was your spy.”
“Maria is very loyal to this family and did absolutely the right thing. I haven’t heard an explanation yet.”
“And you won’t. What I do with my life from now on is none of your business.”
“It is my business if you’re carrying my brother’s kid!”
Helene said nothing.
“I’m not even going to ask why a syrupy little self declared virgin like Helene Sweetness Danforth would have use for one of these.”
“I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“At least, I assume it’s yours,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I know it’s not mine and Maria says it’s not hers, and I believe her since she’s sixty-two.”
“Maybe one of your girlfriends left it there,” Helene responded.
“Don’t get cute with me,” he said angrily. “I thought you told me that you weren’t sleeping with Martin until after the wedding!”
Helene stared at him. Is that what was bothering him, that she had slept with his brother?
“I suppose I should be grateful that you’re assuming the baby is Martin’s,” she said.
“Then there is a baby.”
She sighed; he would find out anyway. “Yes.”
“And it is Martin’s?”
She looked away from him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s Martin’s.”
He threw the box across the room, narrowly missing her head. “What happened to the purity-until-marriage kick?” he said furiously.
“I... changed my mind,” she said shortly.
“So it was your idea?” he asked.
“What difference does it make?” she said wearily.
“Why did you change your mind?”
Helene wasn’t going to touch that topic. “What are you, the FBI? I suppose now you’ll want to run blood tests or something, to prove paternity.”
“I don’t know how tests can be performed on a corpse six feet under the ground.”
Helene winced at this description of his brother, her eyes filling with tears.
He tilted his head back in a characteristic gesture and eyed her narrowly. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to have it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Helene said, turning her head to wipe her eyes discreetly.
“And raise an illegitimate child?”
“I have little choice about it.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I won’t have Martin’s kid go through what I did: the snide remarks, the snickering, the empty seat on Father’s Day at school.”
“And what is your solution?” Helene asked sarcastically.
“I think we should get married.”
Chapter 3
Several endless seconds of deafening silence went by before Helene burst into peals of helpless laughter; there was more than a tinge of hysteria in it.
“You think I’m being funny?” Chris said tightly.
“Wait a minute,” she said, waving her hand helplessly, when she could talk. “Let me get this straight. You detest me, you’ve made that very clear. You think I’m a money grubbing gold digger who came close to duping your brother. But now that you have the chance to be rid of me, instead of packing me off forever with a profound sense of relief, you are asking me to marry you?”
“For the baby’s sake,” he said tonelessly.
“Well I didn’t think it was for mine,” she replied, coughing and wiping her eyes.
He looked back at her, unperturbed. “I’m serious,” he said.
Helene met his frank gaze.
Apparently he was.
“You weren’t even going to tell me about the baby, were you?” he said softly.
“Why should I? I didn’t expect you to greet the news with shouts of joy. I am its mother, after all, and we already know what you think of me, don’t we?”
“Martin was its father and I’m its uncle.”
“Oh, then I take it there is some good blood involved?” she said sarcastically.
“I want to take responsibility for the child,” he said, ignoring her tone.
“You can’t force me to marry you,” she shot back.
“Think of the baby, Helene,” he said. It was the first time she could remember him using her name.
“I am thinking of the baby.”
“You’re thinking of yourself. You don’t like me… ”
She glared at him stonily.
“All right, maybe it’s more than dislike. Since you feel that way you want to run back to New Jersey and have the child alone, to prove to the world and to me that you don’t need anybody. But have you thought of what that will mean for the kid?”
>
“I will take care of it...” she began fiercely.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he interrupted her, shaking his head disgustedly. “People may say that in today’s world illegitimacy doesn’t matter, but I know from firsthand experience that it does,” he said quietly. “It will come to haunt your child in many ways that you can’t even imagine right now.”
Helene said nothing. She couldn’t argue with him there, he was the expert on that subject.
“All you can think of at this moment is getting away from me and with the baby safe inside you anything seems possible,” Chris continued. “But in a few months it will have a life of its own and the decision you make today will affect that life from day one and forever. I’m offering you a way out of bearing a fatherless child, the blank space on the birth certificate, the whole shot. Think about it.”
Helene looked away from him pensively.
“The trust will provide for your family, you don’t have to worry about them. And we’ll stay married just until the baby is born.” He cleared his throat. “I promise I won’t touch you while we’re together and I’ll release you with alimony and child support when it’s over and we go our separate ways.”
“Why, Chris?” she whispered finally. “Why would you do all that for me?”
“I would be doing it for Martin, who was the best person I ever knew,” he said simply. “Ninety-nine out of a hundred guys would have resented the hell out of me when I appeared on the scene, Johnny-come-lately, moving in on his home territory, instant family. Martin was that one in one hundred, and I’ll never forget him. I want to do my best for his kid. Is that so difficult to understand?”
Helene sighed, then shook her head.
“So what do you say?” he prodded.
“I have my job,” she said feebly. “I will need it for... afterward, after the divorce.”
“Can’t you get a leave of absence?”
“I don’t know. The Board of Education would have to approve it. I could try.” She eyed him warily. “You would want me to live here on the ranch, I assume.”
He nodded. “For as long as it takes, until the baby is born. When is it due?”
“March 20.”
“It’s now the beginning of August. You arrange your leave and come back here and we can be married by the end of the month.”
Helene tried to imagine living with him and couldn’t. The two of them alone in this house?
“Separate bedrooms,” Chris added quickly, as if reading her mind. “I go my own way, no questions asked, and you’re free to do exactly the same. Deal?”
Helene hesitated. “What about Maria? She’ll know, I mean, she’ll see the bedrooms.”
“You let me handle Maria,” he said shortly.
“Don’t fire her,” Helene said quickly, not wanting to be responsible for it.
Chris smiled slightly. “You’re worried about Maria’s job? Have you forgotten who ratted on you today?”
“I can understand loyalty,” Helene answered shortly. “It’s a concept I’ve embraced myself, once or twice.”
“You’re stalling. Do we have a deal?” he said.
She closed her eyes. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said lightly. “Now go back to New Jersey and get that leave of absence.”
* * * *
The Superintendent of Schools was a friend of Martin’s, and Helene’s leave was approved by the Board of Education without debate. By the end of August she was back in Wyoming and about to marry Christopher Murdock.
She hadn’t even told her family what she was doing. Her sister Peggy was too young to know what was going on and her mother accepted the story of teaching in the West for a year on an exchange program without question. After she had the baby Helene would deal with the rest of it.
One thing at a time.
* * * *
On the day of her wedding Helene patted her hair into place and adjusted the belt on her dress, then glanced at the closet where her clothes had recently been hung. Chris had put her into the guest bedroom she’d occupied when visiting with Martin, then told her to be ready at two o’clock for the trip to the registry office. They’d gotten the license and taken the blood tests; there was nothing left to do except get married. Helene thought for a moment of the wedding she’d anticipated with the other Murdock brother, then dismissed it wearily from her mind. Nobody but Maria and Sam, the ranch hand, knew that she had been engaged to Martin. Her visit in June had been so brief that they’d had no time for socializing.
She was grateful for that now, it would spare her a lot of explanations.
When she emerged from her room Chris was waiting for her. He was dressed soberly in a light gray suit that contrasted handsomely with his dark hair and eyes, and he was holding a square florist’s box gingerly in his left hand. He extended it to her wordlessly.
Helene accepted it in surprise, opening the glassine cover of the container and taking out a waxy camellia.
“I... I wasn’t expecting anything,” she said honestly, stroking a dewy petal of the flower with her finger.
“I know it isn’t much,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “I just thought you should have...something.”
“Thank you,” Helene said quietly, slipping the band over her wrist and picking up her purse.
They drove into town in the sports car with the top down, Helene watching the lush summer scenery pass in silence. Another couple was ahead of them at the registry and their obvious happiness contrasted bleakly with the gloom enfolding Chris and Helene. When their turn came, the jovial justice insisted on Chris “kissing the bride,” which resulted in a dry peck on the cheek for Helene. The justice remarked, grinning, that he hoped Chris would be able to do better than that on the honeymoon. It seemed an eternity before the short civil service was finally over and they could leave.
Maria de Salvo and her husband, who had served as witnesses, were waiting by the door.
“Mrs. Murdock,” Maria said, as Chris took her husband aside to talk to him. Helene turned at the name; she had expected to be Mrs. Murdock, just not this Mrs. Murdock.
“Yes, Maria?” she said.
“I wanted to talk to you...” Maria twisted her hands nervously. “I told Mr. Chris about the pregnancy test I found in the trash.”
Helene nodded. “I know.”
“I suppose you’re angry with me,” she said anxiously.
Helene sighed. “It’s all water under the bridge, Maria. I understand why you did it and it’s over now. Why don’t we just forget it?”
A relieved smile spread over the housekeeper’s face. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll be in tomorrow morning as usual?” Maria said.
“Of course. I don’t want to disturb your schedule.” I won’t be around that long anyway, Helene added silently.
Maria’s husband came to join her and after exchanging a few more pleasantries with Helene the de Salvos left.
“Not exactly the wedding of your dreams, was it?” Chris said behind her.
Helene turned to look up into his dark eyes. “I didn’t have any illusions about it,” she said simply.
“I gave Maria the rest of the day off, so I guess we’d better get some dinner before we head back to the ranch,” he said.
“I can make something, if you’d prefer that,” Helene replied.
“You’re going to cook for me?” he said, surprised.
“Why not? I’m far from helpless, you know.”
He measured her with his unsettling gaze. “I wasn’t expecting it,” he said in his blunt, unvarnished way.
“Does such domesticity make it seem too much like a real marriage?” Helene asked guilelessly.
He didn’t answer, his lips thinning into a grim line.
“Chris, we don’t necessarily have to be enemies, do we?” Helene asked him softly.
“Let’s go,” he said shortly, not answering her again. “I hav
e some work I want to finish up tonight.”
By the time they got back to the Homestead it was after five and the ranch hands were drifting in toward the bunkhouses, working the outside pumps to clean up for the evening meal.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chris asked, as Helene investigated the kitchen to see what was on hand. “I can just go out back and eat with the hands.”
“On your wedding night?” Helene said dryly. “Not a chance.” She removed some defrosted chicken parts from the refrigerator and poured safflower oil into a pan for frying.
Chris sat at the kitchen table, draping his suit jacket across the back of his chair and pulling his tie loose from its knot. He watched in silence as she went about the dinner preparations, his eyes burning a hole in her back.
“Is the branding going well?” she asked, removing the ingredients she needed from cabinets and the pantry as she found them.
“Well as can be expected.”
“I thought branding was done in the spring.”
“These are late summer calves,” he replied briefly, without further explanation.
“So how is the ranch doing in general?” Helene asked brightly in desperation, thinking that if he didn’t stop staring at her she would begin to scream.
“Fine,” he said.
“Is it profitable?” she asked, dipping each piece of chicken in beaten egg and then rolling it in bread crumbs.
“Very,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry, I’ll have no trouble coming up with the child support.”
Helene turned to face him, keeping her temper under control with an effort. “I’ve already told you I don’t want any money. That’s not why I asked.”
“Well?” he said challengingly, shrugging.
“Just trying to make conversation,” she said, turning back to the stove.
“Why?” he countered maddeningly.
“I can’t imagine,” she muttered, tossing the chicken into the oil with such force that it sputtered. She worked on in silence, feeling like a laboratory mouse being inspected by a clinician. She finally set a plate before him without comment and then sat across from him, picking up her fork and toying with her own food. The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded loud in the silence.
The Harder They Fall Page 4