by Amelia Autin
Guilt jolted through Rennie, as it did every time Gideon talked about the accident that had taken so much from him. She tried her best to ignore it and concentrate on what he was saying.
“The frustrating thing is, the only clue to the cause and the only key to the cure is locked inside Nicki. Only she can tell us, and she’s not talking.”
He drained the last of his coffee and stared unhappily at the dregs. In a low voice he confided, “Each morning I pray this will be the day Nicki reaches out for help. And every night I pray she won’t slip further and further away.”
Unbearably moved by Gideon’s visible pain, Rennie reached across the table and laid her hand on top of his.
“How can I help?” she asked gently.
Gideon turned his hand over and clasped hers, seeming to draw strength and encouragement from the simple gesture. His reluctant smile softened his whole face.
“You’ve already done that. It helps just to be able to talk about it.”
“I’m glad. Now, tell me what I can do to help Nicki.”
“I don’t know, Rennie. I just don’t know. I was hoping she’d take to you better than she has, the way Andrew and Trina did.”
“Oh, Gideon, what did you expect? Nicki’s old enough to still have vivid memories of her mother. Then along comes a stranger whom you immediately introduce as your soon-to-be wife. She’s bound to resent me for taking her mother’s place. She’ll probably even hate me at first. I expect nothing less.”
His hand tightened, and she felt the desperation in him. She added, “I was seventeen when my mother remarried, and I resented my stepfather terribly, even though he was good to me. I treated both him and my mother very badly as a result, and did some crazy things in rebellion. And Nicki’s only nine. It’s a lot harder to understand at nine than it is at seventeen.” Rennie squeezed his hand in empathy.
“So, you’re telling me I have to be patient, too?”
She nodded. “I know it’s hard, but give it time. Give me time.” She laughed a little and looked shyly into his hazel eyes. “I want to be a good mother to your children, Gideon. I think I can be, with a little help from you.”
Rennie realized that her hand still lay clasped in Gideon’s and started to draw it away. He resisted, and her eyes flew to his. Warm admiration shone there, and something more. Her hand remained where it was.
“So what do you need from me?” His voice was husky.
She cleared her throat. “Tell me about each of them, what they like, what they don’t like. I feel I’ve made a start this past week, especially with Andrew and Trina, and I’ll probably concentrate on getting to know them first.”
“What about Nicki?” Though Gideon loved all his children equally, his troubled oldest child held a special place in his heart.
“I won’t ignore Nicki, but I won’t focus a lot of attention on her, either. I don’t want to back her into a corner she’ll have a hard time getting out of later.
“From what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen so far, I think one of two things will happen with Nicki. Either she’ll be jealous of the attention I give to the younger children and will demand her own share, or she’ll resent any affection for me on their part, viewing it as a betrayal of their mother. I’m betting on the latter.”
Gideon frowned. “But won’t that make things worse?”
She nodded. “At first. She’ll probably rebel against any attempt by me to exercise authority over her. I think she’ll do her best to put you and me on opposite sides, to cause a rift in our relationship. But her inability to speak will make that difficult.”
Dawning understanding broke over Gideon’s face. “I’ll be damned. You’re counting on it, aren’t you.”
“Sort of. If we can use her anger and resentment of me and her frustration with the situation to make her talk, it will be worth any short-term unpleasantness. But you have to do your part. That’s why I needed to discuss this with you. You’ll have to give me your support. If this is going to work, you’ll have to back me on every major confrontation. It will be hard on you—I’m not saying it won’t. But if our goal is to break Nicki out of her shell, you’ll have to steel yourself against her tears and silent recriminations.”
For the first time in ages Gideon saw a glimmer of hope. Rennie’s idea just might work. It just might. At this point he was willing to try anything.
“It won’t be easy for you, either,” he stated.
“I know.” Rennie calmly accepted that fact.
Gideon ran assessing eyes over the woman seated across from him. Every time he thought he had Rennie pegged, she surprised him. She’d obviously devoted a lot of thought to this. Her insight into the workings of a child’s mind were remarkable for a woman who’d never had any children of her own. And her commitment astonished him. She hadn’t even lived with his kids yet, but she cared about them already.
How did he ever get this lucky?
“You’re really something, you know that?” He surprised her and himself by raising her hand to his lips. The kiss he pressed on it had nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with affection. “Thank you.”
She flushed to the roots of her hair. “Those children are going to be the most important thing in my life, Gideon.” Her voice was slightly gruff. “They’re the reason we married. Is it so surprising that I care about them?”
Although he agreed with her about the reason for their marriage, a small part of him took exception to her statement that the children were going to be the most important thing in her life. As he gazed at her, Gideon realized he wanted to be important to her, too. As important as the children.
The thought shocked him so much he almost blurted it out, but instead he said, “No, not surprising, exactly. I guess I thought it would take longer, somehow. I didn’t realize how deeply committed you already are.”
It took Rennie a minute to come up with a safe answer. “I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.” She took a sip from her water glass, and the coolness soothed her suddenly dry throat. She prayed he wouldn’t pursue the issue of why she was so committed, because she could never tell him, could never explain the combination of yearning and guilt that drove her.
Something must have shown on her face, however, because Gideon asked her what was wrong.
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
His concern was real and somehow touching, but it only added to the burden of guilt she carried. She shifted uneasily in her chair, and forced a smile for his benefit, but it never reached her eyes. “I’m okay. Really.”
He seemed unconvinced, but he didn’t push it. This time, when she drew her hand away he let it go immediately.
He scrutinized her face intensely as if looking for something he didn’t find, then signaled for the check. As they waited, Rennie toyed with her fork, her napkin, her cup of coffee. Anything to keep her eyes from Gideon’s. He had the uncanny knack of reading her mind, and she didn’t want her eyes to give anything away.
The check came and Gideon paid it, adding a generous tip. He rose, towering over Rennie as he assisted her from her chair.
“How’s the hip?”
“Fine,” she lied.
His face resolved into stern lines. “The truth, Rennie.”
The truth? She could never tell him the truth. Their whole relationship was based on a lie, a lie that could destroy the fragile fabric of trust they’d just begun to weave between them.
“It hurts,” she admitted, and only Rennie knew she was referring to more than her hip.
“Can you walk? Or should I carry you?”
Oh, God, she could bear anything but that. She was too vulnerable at this moment, her control too precarious. He’d been so honest with her, and she’d deceived him from the moment they met. If he held her in his arms now, if she felt the strength of him, the warmth, if she laid her head against his heart and heard its lazy thud beating within him, she would confess everything.
“I can walk,”
she croaked.
He glanced down at her averted face and frowned, obviously sensing something was wrong. She prayed for deliverance, and to her relief Gideon asked no more questions. He tucked her left hand into the crook of his arm, picked up his Stetson and led her out of the restaurant, deliberately matching his strides to hers. He stopped in the entrance to put his hat on before pushing the door open for her. As they slowly made their way back to the motel, he whistled tunelessly under his breath.
Rennie welcomed the silence between them. She didn’t think she’d be capable of conversation right now. All she wanted to do was reach the safety of her room so she could regroup her defenses in private.
It seemed like forever, but it actually took only a minute or two to reach their rooms, and Rennie was grateful for the reprieve. Gideon unlocked the door, turned on the light and checked the interior before handing Rennie her key.
“Need any help?”
Rennie shook her head. Words were beyond her.
“I’ll say good-night, then. If you need anything, just call. I’ll leave my side of the connecting door unlocked. I suggest you do the same. Don’t be shy about asking for my help if you need it, okay? And don’t forget to lock this door.”
She nodded in acknowledgment.
Gideon hesitated, tipped his hat back with one finger, then leaned down and lightly kissed her cheek. “Good night, Rennie.”
“Good night.”
Chapter 5
Rennie entered her room, slapped a washcloth over her face, brushed her teeth and whipped into her nightshirt in less than three minutes. A flick of the light switch shrouded the room in darkness just before she slid into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
Then she lay motionless in the dark, unable to sleep, but doing her best not to think. Too much had happened today. She felt emotionally battered and unable to deal with anything right now. Like the heroine in a famous novel, she firmly told herself, “I’ll think about it tomorrow.”
Now, as before, Rennie could hear Gideon moving around in his room. The sound of running water in the washbasin meant he was probably brushing his teeth. One thump, then another. His boots were off. A minute later the bedsprings protested under his weight. He was in bed. Creak, creak. He turned over.
Rennie idly wondered what he wore to bed, if anything. Did he wear pajama tops and bottoms? Somehow she didn’t think so. He didn’t seem the type. Maybe just the bottoms. That sounded more like him, especially since he had young children who might need him in the middle of the night.
But what about tonight, alone in his room? Rennie conjured up a vision of Gideon lying in naked splendor between crisp white sheets. His tanned body would be dusted with the same sun-kissed golden brown hair as was on his head. It would be soft to the touch against the hardness of his muscles. Farther down would be a darker thatch nestling—
Creak, creak, thud. Gideon was out of bed. Rennie blushed in the darkness as if he’d heard her shameful thoughts.
Pad, pad, pad, pad. Water running. The clink of a glass being set down. Silence, followed by an odd sound. What was he...oh. A flushing sound a minute later confirmed it.
Rennie pulled the spare pillow over her head and the covers over that. She felt like a Peeping Tom, or rather, the audio version of a Peeping Tom. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she was suffocating under the pillow. She lifted a corner and propped it so she could breathe, but still keep her ears covered.
Then realization swept over her. If she could hear everything that went on in his room, he must be able to do the same in reverse. She groaned. She’d never be able to use the bathroom again while he was in his room.
She fell asleep trying to devise ways to accomplish that.
* * *
Rennie woke to the noise of Gideon singing in the shower. It sounded like a Clint Black song, but she couldn’t be sure. Despite her normally less-than-sunny morning self, she had to smile. Her husband seemed oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. He also had a problem remembering all the lyrics, so he filled in with what passed in his mind for humming. It was rather endearing. One more tidbit of intimate knowledge to add to her newly hoarded collection.
A glance at the clock conveniently fastened to the nightstand next to the bed informed Rennie that Gideon was a very early riser, as was to be expected from a rancher. Quarter to five. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but habits were hard to break. Even though Gideon was on vacation he wasn’t the kind of man to lie around in bed wasting time once he was awake.
She reached over and pulled up the pillow which had fallen on the floor during the night, tucking it behind her head and closing her eyes again. She hated mornings. The one thing she hadn’t missed about living on a ranch was getting up early. She was going to have to make that supreme sacrifice from now on, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Rennie heard the shower stop along with Gideon’s singing. In her mind’s eye she could see him toweling off that powerful body—head, shoulders, arms, legs—then wrapping the towel around the more intimate parts of himself.
Water running in Gideon’s washbasin apprised Rennie of what he was doing next. She giggled as he began to sing again, a terrible rendition of a Randy Travis song this time. As if she were in the same room with him, Rennie could see him as he shaved, the frequent pauses indicating he’d reached a difficult patch to maneuver around with his razor. Mindful of the thinness of the walls, Rennie turned and stifled the next giggle in her pillow. Lord, the man must be tone deaf!
The continuing sound of running water was having an unfortunate effect on her. Even more unfortunately, there was no way in hell she was going to use the bathroom while he was right next door and could hear her as clearly as she could hear him.
Desperate needs called for desperate measures. Picking up the phone, she dialed Gideon’s room. It rang twice before he answered.
“Yeah?”
“Gideon, it’s Rennie. I figured you’d be up and about by this time. I’m awake, but it’ll take me a while to get ready. So don’t wait for me.”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
“No!” Rennie held her hand over the mouthpiece until her teeth unclenched enough to continue. “No. You go on to the restaurant and order breakfast. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.” She could almost see him shrugging. “Whatever you say. How’s the hip feel?”
Great. The man wanted to chat at five o’clock in the morning. “It’s fine. Look, Gideon, I’m not at my best until I’ve had a long shower and a cup of coffee.”
“Want me to bring you a cup? I can get a take-out.”
If it hadn’t been such an urgent necessity to get him out of his room, Rennie would have been touched by his consideration. As things stood, she didn’t have the time to waste.
“No, thanks.”
“Okay. See you there.”
While she waited for him to dress and leave, Rennie lay back on the bed, clenched her teeth, and tried to think dry thoughts. The Sahara Desert. The surface of the moon. Death Valley.
As soon as she heard Gideon’s door open and close, Rennie was off the bed like a shot.
Later, after a refreshing shower, she slipped on a pair of jeans and another of the loose-fitting cotton sweaters she liked. This one was the color of a ripe plum. Then she sat on the bed combing her damp hair. She preferred to let her curls air-dry rather than use a blow-dryer, so she had time to think about last night.
She had to get a grip on herself. She couldn’t possibly go on this way, letting guilt overcome her any time it chose. She’d be a nervous wreck inside of a month. And that wouldn’t do the children any good, not to mention herself or Gideon.
No, what she had to do was come to some kind of compromise with her conscience. Then she could get on with the business of building a relationship with Gideon and creating a family with his children.
Gideon thinks his heart is in the grave with his first wife. But it isn’t. His heart is wit
h his children, and he married me for their sake, she thought. He believes in me, trusts me. He’s counting on me, and I can’t let him down.
And that’s exactly what she’d be doing if she let guilt rule her. If she spent all her time afraid they’d discover who she was, she’d be letting Gideon and his children down. And, in a crazy sort of way, herself as well.
“I’m here for a reason,” she whispered to herself, pushing a still-damp curl behind her ear. “A good reason. Maybe it was wrong to lie to Gideon about who I really am, but that doesn’t mean my motives for coming here were wrong. And if I can make a difference in the children’s lives, if I can do some good, then the past doesn’t matter. I can’t let it matter.”
Of course, the children, especially Nicki, might never accept her in their lives, but she refused to believe it. She had faith in herself, faith in the love she wanted so desperately to give them.
“I’ll make it work,” she vowed, even though she knew it would take everything she had in her, every bit of strength and resolution she could muster.
A fainthearted woman might quail at the job ahead of her. But Rennie was a Fortier. She came from a long line of strong women, like her grandmother, women who had faced adversity and won. A Fortier woman didn’t let life dictate her choices; she took life by the scruff of the neck and shook it into what she wanted.
Maybe she’d let life toss her around like a tumbleweed this past year. Maybe she was a bit late in recognizing her own strength of purpose. Maybe the Fortier blood in her veins had lain dormant until this moment. None of that mattered.
She’d made promises to Gideon yesterday. Now she made one to herself. “If I fail, it won’t be for lack of trying. From now on I’m going to look ahead, not back. My life will be what I make of it. And I say Francesca Whitney is dead. I’m Rennie Fortier. Rennie Fortier Lowell,” she amended, tossing the comb she held onto the bed beside her.