My Secret Wife

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “I don’t know.” Gabe rubbed the back of his neck in obvious frustration. “I don’t even know how she knows about us,” he added, upset.

  Maggie shrugged. “Well, we have visited her together several times.”

  Gabe’s eyes darkened as he countered, “But we weren’t holding hands or anything. For all anyone knows we could be just friends.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Maggie thought, dispiritedly. Although the two of them had a marriage certificate and perhaps a baby on the way that said different. “Maybe she’s just intuitive,” Maggie suggested after a moment, doing her best to hide the downward spiral of her mood.

  “Maybe. One thing is for sure, though, as soon as her pneumonia is completely cleared up and she is well enough to be released, the hospital will insist we free up her bed. And if that happens and we still don’t know who she is, Jane Doe will end up in the county nursing home—at least temporarily.”

  In Maggie’s opinion, Jane wasn’t nearly ready for that. And hence wouldn’t be happy there at all, sprained ankle or not. Maggie sighed as she shot a troubled look at Gabe. “I don’t want to see that happen.”

  “Neither do I,” Gabe commiserated gently, “but I don’t know what else we can do about it that we haven’t already done.”

  “Maybe Jane will change her mind and tell us more about the specifics of her situation the next time we visit,” Maggie suggested hopefully.

  “Maybe,” Gabe said. He looked as if he were hoping for the same thing. “Or maybe Harlan Decker, the private eye my aunt hired, will be able to identify her and track down her family.”

  Down the hall, the elevator doors opened. Gabe’s sister, Amy Deveraux, stepped out. Seeing them, she waved and came toward them. “Hey there, big brother.” Looking every bit the pampered baby girl of the Deveraux clan, the dark-haired Amy stood on tiptoe to kiss her older brother’s cheek. Looking as glad to see her as she was to see him, Gabe hugged her back.

  Amy smiled a tentative hello at Maggie, looked her over with frank curiosity, then drawled in a low confidence-inspiring tone, “I heard the two of you were keeping company.”

  Gabe immediately tensed.

  Maggie understood why. Up until recently, no one in his family had wanted to see her and Gabe together—at all.

  “Who from?” Gabe snapped irritably, looking as if he didn’t appreciate his sister’s nosy attitude at all.

  Amy grinned cheerfully. Sliding both her hands in the front of the lemon-yellow overalls embroidered with the logo for Amy’s Cottage Redecorating, she rocked back on the heels of her sneakers and continued prodding her brother for details. “Daisy Templeton mentioned it. She said nearly every time she comes over to take photos of the ongoing kitchen renovation at your place for Chase’s magazine, that the two of you are there together.”

  Able to see Amy’s nosiness was getting under Gabe’s skin, and for good reason, given how private a person he was, Maggie butted in, just as cheerfully. “There’s a reason for that,” Maggie told Amy. “He’s my client. I need to talk to him about what we’re doing.”

  Unfortunately for both her and Gabe, Maggie noted, Amy wasn’t buying that particular explanation.

  “I don’t think that’s what Daisy meant,” Amy said with a speculative grin.

  Gabe glowered at Amy in a way that let her know his love life was not open to public—or even family—rumination. “Yeah, well, maybe Daisy is reading too much into that,” Gabe said, in a voice that relayed that his personal life was staying a closed book. He folded his arms in front of him and looked Amy up and down. “What brings you here anyway?”

  Amy sighed and put whatever interest or private reservations she might have had about Maggie and Gabe seeing each other aside. “You remember I was a Lamaze coach a few months ago for that friend of mine whose husband is in the military?”

  Gabe nodded, his look turning to one of approval. “Lola had a boy, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Amy grinned, recalling. “Anyway, there’s a ‘class reunion’ tonight, for the parents and their babies, and since Lola’s husband Chuck is still overseas, I said I would come and be here with Lola and her baby, Dexter. But that’s not why I was looking for you, Gabe.” Amy grabbed him by the sleeve and stepped into the little hall, where snacks and beverages were kept for patients. Her expression became abruptly grim and worried as she leaned forward earnestly. “We have a family crisis.”

  IT WOULDN’T BE the first family crisis they’d had, Gabe thought. And it probably wouldn’t be the last. He just didn’t want to deal with it tonight—not when he was set to have another evening alone with Maggie. Not when—circumstances being favorable—they could get back to work on making that baby they both wanted so much. And making their relationship an enduring, instead of a temporary one.

  But, as usual, his family was less concerned with what Gabe might want or need, than with what they needed and wanted.

  Taking care to include a startled Maggie in the discussion, Amy continued anxiously. “Dad has a date tonight with some young thing.”

  “So?” Gabe shrugged his shoulders. For the life of him, he couldn’t see what the big deal was about that. “Mom’s been seeing a lot of that yoga instructor, Paulo.”

  Amy scowled, suddenly looking a lot younger and more naive than her twenty-eight years would warrant. “But Dad hasn’t dated anyone since Mom has been back in town.”

  Hmm. That was new. Gabe narrowed his eyes at his sister. “You’re sure about that?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” Amy retorted fiercely, her hope that their parents would one day reconcile unchanged. “But then Dad saw Mom with Paulo last night—we ran into them at the symphony concert—and he was furious. And I don’t blame him. Paulo is half Mom’s age. And with that long hair and fabulous body—well, it’s no wonder Dad was ticked off!”

  The last thing Gabe wanted to do was envision his mother with a man who was quite possibly the most popular yoga instructor-cum-ladies’-man in all of Charleston. He set his lips together firmly. “It’s really none of our business, Amy.” And that would have been true even if his mother was involved with a gigolo, which—according to Gabe’s usually pretty reliable sources—Paulo definitely was not.

  “Au contraire, big brother, it is our business,” Amy shot back, steam practically coming out of her ears she was so upset. Amy grabbed him by his necktie and admonished emotionally, while an astounded Maggie watched, “This is our family we’re talking about. And I’m not about to let Mom and Dad blow their chance to be together again. So I did something about it.” Ignoring Gabe’s groan of dismay, Amy released her death grip on his tie and continued, only slightly more calmly, “I set up a fake emergency at the family yacht and I called both of them and left frantic messages. They should both be showing up there soon to rescue me. The only problem is I won’t be there, of course, because I have to be here, at the Lamaze class party. So you’ll have to show up in my place, Gabe, and reassure them that I’m all right.”

  Gabe stared at his younger sister, not sure whether to haul her down to the yacht slip with him, or simply keep her as far away from both their parents as possible. “This is, without a doubt, the stupidest stunt you have ever pulled,” he growled.

  Amy flashed him a so-there! smile. “But I’m the baby of the family,” she taunted in a low, irritatingly knowledgeable voice, “and they’ll forgive me when they get back together.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes. “If they get back together,” Gabe warned. He didn’t think there was a chance on this green earth that they would.

  “Positive thinking, Gabe. Positive thinking.” Amy threw her arms around Gabe’s neck, hugged him hard, and rushed off down the hall.

  As soon as she was gone, Gabe and Maggie turned to each other. “So are you going to do it?” Maggie said, her face giving no clue as to what she was really thinking about.

  “I have to,” Gabe returned with the same grim reluctance he had used to witness his parents’ split, “if I don’t want Mom
and Dad to go out of their minds with worry about Amy.” He paused, raked both hands through his hair as the anxiety in him began to build. “I just hope they won’t be too ticked off.”

  But of course they were ticked off—rightly so.

  “What’s going on?” Tom Deveraux demanded, the moment Gabe approached the slip where the family yacht, the Endeavor, was anchored. In a dark business suit and handsome tie, he looked every bit the successful, single CEO. Beside him was a young, sexy woman Gabe recognized as one of the docents at the Charleston Museum.

  “Yes,” Grace Deveraux rushed up to join them, Paulo by her side. The city’s premiere yoga instructor was clad in an ivory silk shirt and trousers. He had his hand beneath Grace’s elbow, steadying her, as the two navigated the weathered wooden dock next to the boat. As always, Gabe was surprised by how pretty his mom looked in a slim red silk sheath and matching pumps, her fluffy, short hair a halo about her head.

  “Amy said there had been a break-in here, but I don’t see any police,” Tom growled.

  Correctly sensing that he would like a little privacy with his parents, Maggie slipped away from Gabe and boarded the yacht, where she began to look around.

  Grace’s brow furrowed. “Amy’s message to me stated she was having a crisis. I assumed she meant an emotional one.”

  “Relax,” Gabe said, holding up a hand before his parents could stress out even more.

  Acutely aware this was not a mess of his making, even if he had been left to clean it up, he went on to look his parents in the eye and admit uncomfortably, “There’s no crisis. This was all a matchmaking ruse that Amy cooked up and put into motion.” One meant to bring the two of them together in a romantic, happily-ever-after moment that Gabe was equally certain would never occur. Even if they locked the two of them in a room.

  “Are you part of it?” Tom frowned.

  Gabe shook his head, his mood increasingly grim and resentful at the awkward position he had been put in. “Only in that she sent me here to make sure you both knew she wasn’t in any danger,” he said quietly.

  “Well, then where is she?” Grace demanded, looking just as incensed as Tom.

  “At the hospital, attending a party for the Lamaze class she participated in a few months ago.”

  Grace and Tom both sighed—loudly. Not surprisingly, their dates looked increasingly uncomfortable, too.

  Maggie came back down the gangplank. “If anyone is interested, there’s a romantic dinner for two set up in the stateroom,” she announced cheerfully.

  “Well, I’m not staying,” Grace said stiffly. She shot an angry look at Tom and his date.

  “Neither am I,” Tom said, wrapping his arm around his date’s waist.

  “If you see Amy tell her we did not appreciate this,” Grace added over her shoulder as she took off with Paulo.

  “And tell her it better not happen again,” Tom seconded, as he and his date headed out in the opposite direction.

  Gabe watched his parents go, then released a long, pent-up breath as the tension began to ease out of him as swiftly and surely as it had come.

  “Now what?” Maggie asked curiously.

  Not about to waste a perfectly good opportunity to enjoy some time alone with Maggie, Gabe grinned and said, “Did the dinner look good?”

  “I don’t know.” Maggie shrugged as color swept into her high, delicately boned cheeks. Her eyes met his in a welcoming glance. “I didn’t lift the lids on the chafing dishes, but the flowers are fresh and the table is set beautifully.”

  That settled it then, Gabe thought. His sister Amy might have made things worse for their parents, but she had also made the situation better for him. His spirits lifting, Gabe took Maggie’s hand in his and looked deep into her eyes. “It’d be a shame to let it all go to waste,” he told her cheerfully. “Want to take the boat out?”

  HERE IT WAS, Maggie thought, the big romantic evening she had been wanting. There was only one hitch. And it was a big one. Maggie hesitated, then admitted in a low, embarrassed tone, “I would love to, but I get seasick.”

  Gabe’s eyes widened with the amazement Maggie would have expected from the scion of a shipping magnate and member of a sailing family. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Even a patch doesn’t always work, so—” she gazed at the sun setting over the harbor and tried not to think how lovely it would be to spend the night with Gabe out on the ocean somewhere. She withdrew her hand from his and released a wistful sigh. “I don’t think I better try it.”

  “How about just staying here on the boat, then?” Gabe asked, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to make love to her then and there. He gently pushed an errant tendril of hair from her face. “Think you could handle that?”

  Maybe there was a chance they could take this relationship of theirs to the next level after all. Maggie could hope anyway. She smiled back at him. “Probably.”

  As they headed to the stateroom below, Gabe’s cell phone rang. He took it off his belt. “Ten to one that’s Amy,” he predicted to Maggie before he answered the insistent ringing. “How do you think it’s going?” Gabe demanded in mounting exasperation as Maggie worked on opening the bottle of wine on the table. “They left—with their dates. And I have to tell you, kiddo, you’re on the top of their hit lists.” He paused and listened a moment, then continued in a much gentler tone. “I know. I’ve often wished our family could be whole again, too, but the harsh reality is that Mom and Dad aren’t going to get back together. So just cool it with the matchmaking maneuvers, okay, little sis?” They talked a little more, then hung up. Gabe accepted the glass of wine Maggie handed him. “Sorry you had to witness so much family drama in one evening,” he said with a disgruntled sigh, looking as if he were weary of the whole Deveraux clan and all their various problems.

  “I don’t mind,” Maggie said wistfully, as she took a sip of the delicious merlot. She let the mellow flavor rest on her tongue a moment before admitting in the same low shy tone, “Actually, I kind of miss having family crises like that.”

  “Were your parents passionate people?”

  “Sometimes. Most of our family calamities were simply me being dramatic, and them reacting to me. But there were also times when they would have a disagreement, usually about something really silly and inconsequential, and want me to take sides.”

  Gabe made a face, letting her know he understood too well how it felt to be put in the middle of your parents’ argument. “And did you?” he asked quietly, as they seated themselves on the long white leather sofa beneath the stateroom windows.

  Maggie kicked off her high heels and curled up next to him. “Well, I always had an opinion about who was right and who was wrong and I think they kind of knew what I was thinking, even though I was careful to try not to get in the middle of whatever dispute they were having. What about you?” She traced his knee through the fabric of his stone-colored slacks. “Did you take sides when your parents got divorced?”

  “I think we all did initially.” Gabe took a sip of his drink and draped his arm along the back of the sofa. He turned to Maggie, so she was nestled in the curve of his arm, and continued in a soft reflective tone, “Chase sided with Mom. He didn’t know what Dad had done, but he figured it had to be pretty bad if Mom wanted a divorce. Mitch thought Dad was the reasonable one, and that Mom was reacting emotionally—not logically. Amy didn’t care who was at fault, she just wanted them to get back together.”

  “What about you?” Maggie asked gently, knowing he had to have been greatly affected, too.

  Gabe shrugged, turned his glance away. His expression was bleak and brooding. “I was angry at both of them for letting whatever it was wreck our family. Back then, I believed in a perfect world.” He shifted his gaze back to Maggie. “I knew our family wasn’t perfect. There were a lot of stony silences. Locked bedroom doors. Hurt feelings. My father looked sad and angry. My mother just hurt and disillusioned. But I never once, in the months leading up to the divorce, thoug
ht they would ever forget the vows they had made to each other, or throw away the family that we had created.”

  But they had, Maggie thought sadly. And for all four of Tom and Grace Deveraux’s offspring, the ramifications of that hurt were still resounding in their lives. Her heart going out to Gabe, she touched his knee gently. “Do you think they could have saved their marriage?”

  “I don’t know,” Gabe said honestly, the bitterness from years past coming back into his eyes. “What still bugs me, I guess, is that they didn’t even try. Marriage is supposed to be for life.”

  Maggie stiffened. “Ours isn’t,” she reminded quietly. And for that, she would always have some regret. She knew now she never should have let him talk her into an in-name-only relationship, even if it was to keep their baby from feeling any shame about the way he or she had been created and or come into this world. She should have held out for the real thing or remained single. But it was too late to go back and do it all over now. They were in this farce together. And with Gabe as disillusioned as he apparently was about marriage in general, what hope did they have of ever making their union a true and lasting one? Maggie wondered wistfully. Even his parents—who had at least started out the right way—had failed in that regard.

  Gabe put his wineglass aside. The next thing Maggie knew he had put hers aside, too, and shifted her over onto his lap. “You know what I mean,” he said quietly, looking deep into her eyes.

  Maggie laced her arms about his shoulders, for a moment allowing herself the luxury of sinking into his embrace. She loved the way he felt against her, so solid and warm and strong. “You’re talking about marriages like my folks’,” she observed quietly, wondering at how tenderly he treated her, as well as how protected, loved and at peace she felt whenever she was with him like this. She swallowed hard around the growing knot of emotion in her throat. “They really did have a wonderful partnership. So good, in fact,” she reflected sadly, “that I sometimes worry if anything I have will measure up to the standard that they set.”