"I told you last time you came here that we didn't need anything from you." Tricia's voice cracked whip-sharp in the stifling air of the trailer. "So why don't you take your fancy-ass girlfriend and get going."
"I wanted to check up on you. I heard he was in jail again." Chance sighed and sank down on the couch next to me, hands on his knees. "Mom, this place is falling apart. I can get you into something nicer than this. A little cabin, or—"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Her face, already older than her years, twisted, the lines of dissatisfaction etching deeper. "Still trying to make up for betraying me and your daddy all those years ago."
Instead of snapping back at her, Chance just stared back stonily. This was obviously an old argument. "I was 11 years-old," he said evenly. "He was drunk and had beaten the shit out of you, belted Aaron one and started on Jessica."
My stomach clenched. His brother would have been nine, and his sister only six.
Tricia's face went mutinous. "You were a kid," she sneered. "You had no idea what was going on. The way I remember it, you made up some bullcrap story and told that social worker we beat you, when you were really just a messed up little delinquent who attacked his daddy for no gawdamned reason."
Suddenly, it clicked. I remembered the summer Chance stayed with us for a few weeks. I didn't think anything of it at the time, since he was always over at our house anyway, but that summer stuck in my mind. Because when he'd arrived, he had a broken nose, two black eyes and a cast on his arm. I remember feeling bad for him because my mom had to tie a plastic bread bag around it when she'd take us to Lake Michigan and the cast hadn't come off until the last week before school.
I shot up off the couch like I'd been stung by a wasp. "You're talking about the summer Chance broke his arm?" I demanded.
Tricia looked at me in vague surprise, like she'd forgotten I was there. "So?" she asked belligerently.
"Hey," Chance said, getting up and putting a hand on my shoulder. "Sit down, Tiger. Not your battle." I shook him off and took another step forward, getting right up in his mother's face.
"You're telling me that your sorry, lowlife, drunk ass husband broke a little boy's arm when he was defending you and you're sitting here still punishing him for it?" My pulse pounded in my ears and I felt lightheaded with anger.
Tricia took a wary step back. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Lucky. Chance's wife. The person who loves him more than anyone else on this planet. And I'll tell you who you are. You are a sad, pathetic woman who doesn't deserve a son like him. I am proud to say that he'll be the father of my children, because I know he'll love me and protect me, just like he's always loved and protected you and everyone else he cares about." Tears threatened. Damned hormones.
"I'm going to have his babies, and if you ever want to see your grandchildren, you'd better do some honest-to-God soul searching, because, lady, as it stands now, I don't want you anywhere near my family, you bitter, deluded old wench." On that grand exit line, I headed for the door. You could take my lottery winnings away and I still wouldn't stay in that house for another minute.
A few moments later, I was sitting in the Roadmaster, mortified, picking apart everything I'd said to Chance's mom. I mean, who called their new mother-in-law a wench? Who called anyone a wench anymore outside of a Renaissance fair?
Chance finally came out, heading over to wrestle the window screen free from its overgrown prison. He fiddled with the fasteners and had it back in place in a few moments. He didn't look mad but I still got nervous when he finished up and started for the passenger seat, where I was sitting instead, of heading for the driver's side. He opened my door and pulled me out.
"I'm sor—"
The rest of my apology was cut off as he kissed me thoroughly and systematically dissolved every thought in my head. When he let me go, I sagged back against the car, my head spinning. The basset hound barked at us, jolting me back to where we were.
"Thank you," he said simply, opening the car door for me. I sank down weakly into the seat.
When he climbed in and started the car, I asked lightly, "So, we'll see her at Thanksgiving dinner, then?"
He laughed a little and I could feel his mood shift and lighten.
"Probably not. But for the first time in a long time, I think I'm okay with that."
Chapter 44
When we got to Chance's place in Kentucky, I had the distinct feeling that I had finally come home. Not that I knew anything about horses, of which there were several, and I had never been to Kentucky or even set foot on a farm, but something about the place called to me. It could have been the neat white farmhouse, built in the 1880's, Chance had told me on the way, with the towering maples growing up around it. Or maybe it was the patchwork of white-fenced, emerald fields, or the huge, beautiful red barn. Whatever it was, I could see by the look of peace that settled over Chance's face when we pulled in the long, winding driveway, that it this was his home.
I got out of the car and was taking it all in, already mentally adjusting my wardrobe to a more appropriate time period, when Chance scooped me up in his arms and carried me across the threshold. He set me down and my mouth dropped open. Apparently I wouldn't be running around in long, calico Ma Ingalls dresses after all.
The house had been re-done inside, but not modernized. It was pure 1950's. Mint-green walls, caramel-leather chairs, champagne-colored Heywood-Wakefield furniture with dark grey cushions, a golden sunburst clock over the mantle, flowered drapes at the windows. Dazed, I wandered through a doorway into the kitchen, with Chance trailing after me. The kitchen was pink. Pink with aqua accents and a black and white checkerboard floor. Even the Formica table was white with aqua polka dots and tiny pink boomerangs. And there was a pink Frigidaire. I didn't even know they made those. I surreptitiously wiped at the corner of my mouth in case I was drooling.
Chance finally cleared his throat. "The couple that sold me this place bought it when they were newly married, and kept it in really good shape. I bumped up the purchase price a little and told them it was ok to leave whatever they wanted behind, since they were moving into a little condo that was already furnished."
I spun around. "You bought a 50's freaking museum. Do you have any idea how rare a place like this is?"
He grinned, looking relieved. "So, you like it?"
Instead of answering, I threw my arms around his neck and jumped up to hook my ankles behind his back. "Were they happy?"
"Who?" Chance asked, cupping his hands under my rear to hold me in place and staring distractedly at my cleavage, already growing much more impressive with pregnancy.
"The couple you bought this house from."
"Yeah, I think so. The wife said they celebrated their 65th anniversary last year. And they were holding hands when I first met them." He smiled a little, probably picturing it.
"Then that's a good sign. We'll be happy here, too. Show me our bedroom now."
"Anything for you, Mrs. Atkins."
And he carried me up the stairs.
I woke up early the next morning, despite not getting a lot of sleep the night before, and pulled on one of Chance's light cotton robes to wrap around my nakedness. Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, I headed downstairs. The old house was quiet, comfortably so, and I had to grin at the sight of the living room bathed in the early-morning sunshine. Sitting down in the Wakefield chair that faced the sunrise view, absently rubbing its nubby upholstery cushions, I watched a momma horse stand placidly grazing while a baby horse jumped and frisked around her in the pasture across the driveway and down the hill. Seeing as how I was the wife of a horse breeder now, I figured I should probably start reading up. All I could tell about the horses at that point was that they were pretty.
And laying my hand on my still-soft stomach, I realized there was a lot more I should start reading up on, too.
I had coffee going in the old-fashioned percolator on the stove when I heard a dog barking. I'd opened the kitchen door to catch t
he warm, spring-scented breeze, and by the time I looked up, the ugliest canine I'd ever seen had jumped up against it, tongue lolling happily, and behind him, climbing the porch stairs, was a gorgeous woman. She was wearing a forest-toned flannel shirt, her jeans tucked into muddy rubber boots. If I were the jealous type, I'd have been freaking out. As it was, I was just really, really curious. And maybe a little concerned. But not a lot. Chance wouldn't have married me if he had a girl stashed here. Right?
"Down, Tripod," she said absently, and the dog immediately sat. She bent over, prying the boots off with the help of an old wooden boot jack on the porch, and her long black braid swung over one shoulder. Her feet were bare, pale as milk, and as pretty as the rest of her, with the toenails painted bright purple. Her face was dominated by a pair of dark blue eyes framed with dark brows and thick, curling lashes, and when cleared my throat, they shot up to me in surprise. Her hand flew up to her mouth to muffle a shriek and she stumbled back a step, almost falling off the porch.
"Hey, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."
The woman's face flushed dark red. "I didn't know Chance had company—I'll catch up with him at the barn later." Embarrassed, she grabbed her boots and started down the stairs, still barefoot. The dog hopped up and followed her, and I realized he only had three legs. Tripod.
"Wait, are you Lily?"
She stopped and looked back warily. "You know who I am?"
"Not really," I said. "I just realized I'd heard of you." Mentioned in Chance's will, I thought suspiciously. "Chance is still in bed. You want to come in for a cup of coffee?"
There was a long pause as Lily studied me, probably with as much suspicion as I'd studied her. "Sure," she said finally. "I haven't had my second cup yet."
Second cup? It was only 6:45 in the morning. Feeling inexplicably like a slacker, I pulled my borrowed robe tighter around myself and pushed the screen door open with the other hand. The dog galloped through, stopping only for a second to lick my hand politely and let me ruffle his mottled grey and brown coat before bounding up the stairs on a mission.
Lily sat down at the table, and I grabbed a crocheted pot holder to pull the bubbling percolator from the burner. I opened cupboards at random until I found a stack of pink and turquoise teacups with black curlicues on them and matching saucers. Tickled at their kitschiness, I laughed and lifted a cup to check the maker's mark on the bottom.
"They're Broadhurst Ironestone. The 'Rose Glen' pattern," Lily said.
Crap, I'd forgotten she was there. I probably looked like a crazy person inspecting the coffee cup and giggling like an idiot. But when I looked at Lily, she was smiling self-consciously.
"Wait, you know vintage?" Suddenly, she seemed less like a femme fatale from Chance's mysterious past, and more like a kindred spirit.
"Yeah. This house is incredible, isn't it? I could believe it when I came here… to interview." Oh, that hesitation wasn't good. Time to stake some boundaries.
"I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself. I'm Chance's wife, Lucky."
Instead of looking devastated or angry at my announcement, her Irish gypsy face lit up like a sunbeam.
"That's great! Congratulations. I knew he was going back to Michigan to find someone he'd been in love with a long time. He told me a little about you—he bought this place for you, you know."
The knot that had been forming in my chest loosened, but before I could answer, I heard footsteps on the stairs. I turned toward the doorway, but when Chance appeared with Tripod hovering happily behind him, the screen door flew open. A little girl ran past me and launched herself into his arms.
"Chance!" she squealed. He grinned and tousled her short cap of dark curls. "Did you see? Tarnation had her foal!"
"Heya, Brie. You'll have to introduce me after I have a cup of coffee."
"Breanna!" Lily shot me an embarrassed look.
Unrepentant, Breanna dropped lightly to her feet and turned to look at me curiously. Her cheeks were still rounded with a layer of baby fat and her chocolate brown eyes twinkled charmingly. Even with the darker eye color, probably inherited from her father, I could tell she was Lily's daughter. She'd be stunning someday, too. "Who are you?"
"I'm Lucky. Chance's new wife. Who are you?"
Her face went thunderous in the blink of an eye. "You liar! Chance is going to marry my mom and be my dad. Tell her, mom!"
Lily's face was a mixture of mortification and sadness as she jumped up and took a step toward Breanna. "Oh, baby, no! I just work for Mr. Atkins. You know that."
The little girl's eyes filled with angry tears. "I hate you. You ruined everything," she hissed, roughly pushing past me. The screen door slammed behind her, leaving three adults and a very awkward silence in the kitchen.
Chapter 45
Chance gave me an uncomfortable, pleading look. Lily started apologizing, insisting that she'd never meant to give her daughter any ideas. I threw up both hands.
"Guys, stop. I was a little girl once with a single mom. I asked my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Serafini, to marry her during my spring conferences. Breanna fell in love with Chance. I totally get that."
"I need to go after her." Lily pushed to her feet, but Chance was faster.
"Let me," he said. "Odds are I'm going to have to get used to talking to little girls and soothing hurt feelings." He kissed me quickly and gratefully. He grabbed a pair of boots and left, Tripod bounding after him.
"God, I'm so sorry for that." Lily folded her arms and dropped her head into them.
"Is coffee okay to drink when you're pregnant?" I asked her, after filling two cups.
"What?" She lifted her head, her expression confused.
I rubbed my belly and her face cleared and she managed a small smile. "Just a little won't hurt, but too much caffeine isn't good." I nodded and dumped half the cup back into the pot. Carrying them both to the table, I sat down across from her.
"You're pregnant?"
"Pretty sure," I said. "A lot has happened the last several weeks." That was glossing over the understatement of the century, for sure. "So I can count on you for preggers advice in the next few months, right?"
Lily laughed and rubbed her hands over her face. "Yeah. If you haven't decided to run us off the place after that scene."
"No worries," I said, trying to reassure her. She looked like she was about to dissolve into tears. "So, you live here? What do you do?"
She took a deep breath, collecting herself. "We do. I mean, we don't live here—there's a sweet little guest house behind the main barn. I'm kind of a caretaker. Chance… hired me." There was that hesitation again. "I look after the animals, too, when he's not around."
Lily picked up on my confusion. "I should explain. It's not a great story and I'll totally understand if you want us gone once you know it all." She laced her fingers together and looked down at them. Her knuckles were pale white.
"I'm not from around here. I'm from… way northwest of here. I was married to a great guy. We dated through high school and I loved him, very much. But my husband had an accident at work—a head injury—and it changed him. It was like the man I knew died that day. He started drinking a lot, getting angry for no reason. He hit me one day for spilling a bowl of cereal. It got worse and worse, but I didn't have anyone to go to. Breanna was five, and I didn't want to uproot her, but then, one day, he turned on her, too. She was playing with her toy horses and he kept telling her to be quiet, to keep it down, and then he just snapped."
She took a deep breath, and didn't go into detail about what happened, but it was clear that the memories still haunted her. "That was it. I cleaned out our savings account, took his car and left the next day. We had been bouncing around for a couple of years, me taking jobs that barely paid the rent, when I'd get skittish and we'd move on again. The, last year, Chance happened to be in a bar I was waitressing at. One of the customers got really drunk and tried to put the moves on me. The bartender shut him down, but the guy waited for me in the parking l
ot after my shift. If Chance hadn't been there, he would have raped me. I was freaked out, ended up spilling the whole story, and he offered me a job. I grew up around horses."
"That's my white knight," I said softly, giving her hand a squeeze where it rested on the table.
"I swear, though, that there was never anything more than friendship between us. After what I went through, I don't ever want another man."
"I believe you," I said sincerely. I really did. "But none of what you just told me would give me any reason to 'run you off the place.' Sounds to me that you were dealt a shitty hand of cards and you made the best of them."
Lily looked at me pleadingly. "He could come back, still. My husband. He told me… before… that if I tried to run away, he'd kill me." I could see the latent terror in her eyes. Even after four years, she still absolutely believed that her husband would track her down. I would be a rabid nutcase after struggling under that kind of sustained pressure for so long and I felt a surge of admiration for the woman sitting across from me.
"I think the chances of him finding you and Brie on a 300-acre horse farm in South Nowhere, Kentucky are pretty slim, but I can't imagine a better boss to have than an ex-Marine if he did. Plus, I'm pretty badass, too. Don't you watch the news?"
She shook her head. "With the horses and homeschooling Brie, I don't really have the time. Plus, it's always depressing."
"Then have I got a story for you. This one's got a happy ending, though."
I was back in the torture room, but this time, I was strung up next to Chance. My arms were twisted painfully up over my head and I could see everything Dominick was doing. He was wearing a red-spattered butcher's apron over his dress shirt and tie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the gold watch he wore at his wrist glinted in the harsh overhead lights. His lips were pulled back from his teeth in a maniacal grin and grey skin stretched over his skeletal cheekbones, oozing with dark patches of decay.
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