by Lisa Jackson
“You’re a lying, two-timing bastard, McLean.”
“I didn’t call you,” he reminded her.
“It’s that Aldridge girl, isn’t it?” Jessica charged.
“Leave her out of this,” Colton warned.
“God, Colton, she’s barely out of diapers! And her father would murder you if he ever got wind—”
“Stop it!” Colton cut in, his voice low.
“Don’t I mean anything to you?” she wheedled, and a long silence followed.
So Colton didn’t care about Jessica! Cassie, flattened against the tree, heard her heart slamming against her ribs.
“You’re a fool, Colton McLean!” Jessica charged.
“Probably.”
Cassie heard footsteps crossing the gravel driveway and the sound of a car door slam loudly. She peeked around the tree trunk just as the convertible roared to life again and tore down the drive. Jessica’s long blond hair waved like a moon-dusted banner behind her.
Cassie turned her gaze to Colton. He was standing in the middle of the yard, but he wasn’t paying the slightest attention to the disappearing car. Instead, an amused smile curved his lips. His hands on his hips, he stared straight at Cassie.
“See enough, Cass?” he taunted.
Cassie swallowed hard. She wanted to run as fast as her legs would carry her back to the fence where Tavish was waiting, but she forced herself to step forward. She felt young and stupid and incredibly naive. “I heard you were dating Jessica,” she admitted, forcing her head up to meet the questions in his eyes.
“Not much of a date,” he said sarcastically. “It was her idea.”
Cassie managed a poor imitation of a cynical smile. “Seems like you have all sorts of women chasing you down.”
“Not many. Some are girls.”
She bristled. “How can you say that? After ... after—”
Colton sighed, plowing his hands through his hair. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her arm, drawing her into the shadows away from the house. “You are a girl, damn it,” he ground out, more exasperated than angry. “Seventeen, for crying out loud!” He dropped her arm and swore. “I don’t know what to think of you, Cassie.”
“We made love.”
He sucked in a swift breath. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“Then why haven’t you called or stopped by?” she asked, her heart pounding wildly with fear—fear that he would reject her, fear that he wouldn’t want the baby.
“Oh, God, Cass,” he whispered, his voice rough, “if you think this has been easy—”
“Don’t you want to see me?”
His jaw worked. “More than I should.”
“Then, why—”
“Because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
“Mistake?” she whispered, her throat closing. “Mistake?” Unbidden, tears filled her eyes. “How can you call what we shared a mistake? I love—”
He held up one flat palm. “I don’t want to hear it!”
“Why not, Colton? Because you’re afraid?”
“Yes, damn it! I am afraid.” He grabbed for her again, his hands clamping over her forearms. “I’m afraid of what’s happening to me—to you—to us. What about the rest of our lives, Cassie? You have dreams, don’t you? Didn’t you tell me you want to become a veterinarian?”
“Yes, but—”
“And I want to finish school, get a job with the best goddamn paper in the country.”
“You can—”
“With a wife?” he mocked. “Because that’s what you’re after, Cassie. You as much as said it before.” He stared down into her eyes and groaned. “You’re beautiful, Cass, and loving and smart, and you’ve got your whole life stretched out in front of you. You can have anything you want.”
“Except you.”
Colton swallowed hard, and his eyes searched hers. For a split second she thought he might kiss her. “Give it time,” he pleaded, his voice rough.
“Maybe we haven’t got time,” she whispered.
“Of course we do. . . .” He stared down at her, as if noticing for the first time how pale she was, how pinched the corners of her mouth had become. “What do you mean?”
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her voice raw.
His arms dropped to his sides, and he leaned one shoulder against the house, sagging. “Pregnant?” Stunned, his face chalk-white, he asked, “You’re sure?”
“Of course I am.”
“You’ve been to the doctor?”
She shook her head, fighting against tears. “Not yet.”
“Then maybe—”
“I’m positive, Colton. It’s not something you guess at. I’ve been around a ranch for years. I know the facts of life.”
“But until you’ve seen the doctor, you really don’t know,” he protested.
Cassie was firm. “I’m nearly two weeks late, and I’ve already started throwing up before breakfast.”
“Oh, God,” he muttered. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed his eyes shut.
With a sinking heart Cassie understood just how little he wanted the baby, how little he cared for her. She hurt all over. “Look,” she finally said, her voice barely audible, “this isn’t your problem. I—I can handle it.” She started walking, faster and faster, away from him, before the tears burning behind her eyes began to fall.
“It’s as much my fault as yours.”
“It’s no one’s fault, Colton. It just happened.”
He let out a long breath. “I’ll marry you.”
She stopped short, barely believing her ears. “You don’t have to—”
He caught up with her, and every muscle in his face was hard and set. “I won’t run away from my responsibilities, Cassie. You’re pregnant, the child’s mine, and we’ll get married.”
“There’s no need to be noble.”
He snorted. “Oh, this is far from noble.”
If only she could believe him! “What about your career?”
His eyes searched the heavens, and a wistful smile curved his lips. “There’s time. It’ll wait. We’ll live here until we get on our feet, then we’ll find a place of our own. When we can afford it, we’ll both finish school.”
It sounded so clinical, so hollow. Where was the happiness? The joy? The love everlasting? The earth-shattering knowledge that this love—their love—would bind them together always? “I don’t want to get in the way, Colton,” she whispered, suddenly feeling as if she’d made a big mistake in telling him about the baby. “You have your plans—”
He grabbed her again, his fingers tightening over her arm. “We’ll make it work, Cassie,” he vowed, “but it won’t be easy. You’ve got to understand that.”
“I’ m willing to work at it.”
“Good. So am I.” He glanced up at the moon, smiling wearily. “This isn’t what I’d planned,” he admitted, “but maybe it’s just what I, we, need.”
“Of course it is!” she cried, forcing their happiness.
He held her then, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her full on the mouth. Warmth spread through her, and she clasped her hands behind his neck, dragging them both to the ground. “I love you, Colton,” she whispered over the pounding of her heart, “and I always will.”
“Shh, Cass, I know. I know,” he said, sighing.
So he hadn’t said he loved her. But at least he wanted her. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the urgency with which he cast their clothes aside. Cassie gazed up at him, filled with the wonder that this virile man would soon be her husband.
* * *
Two days later, Cassie squirmed in the hard, plastic chair.
Dr. Jordan, a man in his fifties with glossy white hair and small, even features, stared at Cassie over the tops of his glasses. He was seated behind his desk, his fingers toying with the edge of her medical chart. “The lab results are back. You’re not pregnant.”
Cassie froze. “Not preg
nant?” she repeated, disbelieving.
“Your test was negative. This should be good news,” the doctor said, though obviously from his expression he could see the disappointment on her face.
“There must be some mistake—”
“No mistake, Cassie.”
“But I’ve been sick and my period is late!”
“You probably had the flu, and sometimes that can affect your cycle.”
“No . . .”
The doctor smiled. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
Did she? She felt as if all the sand in her hourglass had just slipped through her fingers.
As she walked outside, a warm summer breeze caressed her face and tugged at her hair. Overhead, leaves turned in the wind and squirrels chattered and raced nimbly through the branches. The air felt fresh and clean, but she felt cold inside. What would happen now? How could she tell Colton that she’d been wrong?
She wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked along the dusty sidewalk. She tried not to notice young mothers pushing strollers or a happy couple, obviously in love, sneaking kisses in the park.
Walking past a boutique, she eyed a lace wedding dress in the window. Would Colton still want to marry her? Two doors down she paused at the only children’s store in Three Falls. Her throat went dry. Rattles and blankets and sleepers in a rainbow of pastels were strewn around a bare wooden rocking horse with glass eyes and a hemp mane and tail.
“Maybe someday,” she whispered, her fingers trailing over the glass. She strolled into the store and touched the soft clothing and adorable stuffed animals until she could stand the self-inflicted torture no longer.
“Fool,” she whispered to herself as she drove home, squinting against the lowering sun. Knowing she had to tell Colton the truth, she drove straight to the lane leading to the McLean Ranch, but at the last minute she changed her mind and sped past the gravel drive. What would she say? What if Denver answered the door? Or worse yet, Colton’s parents or his uncle John? No, she had to wait until she got Colton alone.
She was still lost in thought, worried sick about breaking the news to Colton, when she parked the pickup near the barn.
“Where ya been?” her father asked as she raced through the back door. Seated at the kitchen table, working the crossword puzzle in the morning paper, he glanced up at her.
“In town.”
“Get anything?”
Just bad news. “Nope—nothing caught my eye.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel.
Ivan turned his attention back to the open newspaper pages, and she ran upstairs and changed, feeling miserable.
She considered calling Colton, but couldn’t risk it, not until her father was away from the ranch. If Ivan heard her end of the conversation, he’d go through the roof. And she couldn’t chance another midnight ride; she might get caught by the McLeans or her father.
A little voice in her mind nagged at her—told her she was just putting off the inevitable, but she wouldn’t listen. She had time, she assured herself. Besides, it was better to be safe than sorry.
* * *
In the next few days her father never left the ranch. And, unfortunately, he expected her to help with the hay and wheat harvest—so she was in the fields as much as he. Cassie spent nearly twenty-four hours a day with him. If Colton had called, she’d been out and missed him.
One evening while her father was doing the chores, she forced herself to take a chance. Her insides churning, she reached for the phone, dialed, and waited.
“Hello.” Denver McLean’s voice rang over the wires. Was it her imagination or did he already sound hostile?
“Hello?” he said again. “Hello?”
Cassie swallowed hard.
“Is anyone there?” Denver asked, his voice angrier than ever.
“Cass?” her father called.
Whirling, Cassie hung up.
“Don’t let me bother you,” her father said, nodding toward the telephone.
Shaking her head, Cassie mumbled. “I was finished anyway.”
“Who was it?”
Cassie thought fast. “Just Beth,” she lied, hating herself for the deception.
Her father chuckled. “You two would tie up the lines around here all day if you had the chance,” he said, and Cassie felt worse than ever.
Her father grabbed his cap from a hook near the door, then disappeared outside again.
Cassie sagged against the wall. Somehow she had to find Colton and tell him the truth—in so doing, she would relieve him of his obligation and set him free to do what he really wanted with his life. Sooner or later they had to talk.
As the next few days passed, she felt more and more guilty. And there was a tiny part of her that kept hoping that even when he knew that there was no baby, he would smile and say, “It’s all right, Cass. I love you. We’ll get married anyway.”
By the end of the week she’d gathered all her courage and found an excuse to go riding alone. The sun was just setting over the western hills, and Cassie knew that it was now or never. She followed the same path she’d taken the night she’d told Colton she was pregnant. Tavish streaked across the fields to the river, where, after snorting his disapproval, he eventually swam with Cassie clinging to his neck.
Her heart was pounding, her hands sweaty, as she tied Tavish’s reins to the fence, ducked under the sagging barbed wire and ran through the bleached stubble of the McLean pasture.
Please, God, let him be home, she silently prayed. Climbing the final fence, she nearly lost her nerve. The yard was empty, but she saw Katherine McLean in the garden near the house.
Cassie combed the tangles from her hair with her fingers, squared her shoulders, and ignoring the fact that the hem of her denim skirt was damp, she forced herself down an overgrown path to the garden.
“Mrs. McLean?”
Katherine, bent over a row of bush beans, cast a glance over her shoulder. From beneath the brim of her straw hat her blue eyes widened a bit. But if she thought it strange that Ivan Aldridge’s daughter was standing in the middle of McLean property, she didn’t show it. “Cassie! How’re you?”
“Fine,” Cassie said, her fingers twisting nervously in the folds of her skirt. She could feel the flush in her cheeks, knew her heart was slamming a million times a minute. “Is—is Colton here?”
Katherine dusted her hands, and her dark brows drew into a thoughtful frown. “No, he left over an hour ago. He was going into town, and then I thought he said he was stopping by your place. He should be there by now.”
Cassie swallowed hard, and the color that had invaded her face drained. “I must’ve missed him,” she whispered, a thousand horrid scenarios flitting through her mind. What if at this very minute Colton was talking with her dad, explaining about the baby, telling Ivan he intended to marry her? She started backing up. “Well, uh, maybe I’ll catch him there.”
Katherine winced and rubbed the small of her back. “Are you sure? You look pale. Maybe you should come into the house for a drink. I know I could use a break. There’s sun tea in the refrigerator—”
“No—no thanks,” Cassie said quickly, feeling miserable. She hated turning down Colton’s mother and this chance to help bury some of the bad feelings lingering between the Aldridges and McLeans, but she couldn’t take a chance that Colton might be telling Ivan that he was going to sacrifice himself by marrying Cassie—all because of a baby!
She fairly flew across the arid fields, her hair streaming behind her in the wind. At the fence she ducked quickly, snagging her blouse, feeling the prick of one sharp barb on her back. She didn’t care.
Her fingers fumbled with the reins. The wet leather had partially dried, tightening the knot. “Come on, come on,” she whispered, finally yanking the reins free and jumping onto Tavish’s broad back.
Digging her heels into the gelding’s sides, she urged him into the river, not even noticing the Sage’s icy water against her calves and thighs.
Tavish scrambled up the
bank, and Cassie leaned forward. “Come on, boy—now!” As his hooves found flat ground, she slapped the reins against his shoulder and he bolted, streaking down the path through the trees and across the open, windswept fields. Grasshoppers flew out of Tavish’s path. Jackrabbits scurried through the grass to the protection of brambles. The chestnut’s strides reached full length, and tears blurred Cassie’s vision.
“That’s it,” she whispered, riding low, her legs gripping Tavish’s heaving sides,
She yanked on the reins at the stables, and the gelding slid to a stop. Not bothering to walk him, nor take the bridle from his head, she looped the reins over the top rail and scrambled over the fence only to spy Colton’s Jeep parked in the yard.
“No . . .” she cried. Her throat closed, and for a minute she had to stop and lean against the rough boards of the barn to catch her breath. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He couldn’t have been here long, though the lavender streaks of coming dusk told her that time had passed, perhaps too much time.
With as much dignity as she could muster, she climbed up the steps to the back porch, flung open the door and stepped inside.
Ivan and Colton were in the living room, both standing, surveying each other as if they were mortal enemies. Colton’s back was to the fireplace, where the old clock on the mantel ticked softly near the faded pictures of Cassie’s mother.
“I—I didn’t know you were coming here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt Colton’s gaze on her, knew he could see the tangles in her hair, the flush on her cheeks, the dampness discoloring her skirt.
“I should have called,” Colton said tightly, and she knew instantly that he was furious. His face had whitened under his tan, and his mouth had thinned to a hard, cruel line.
“What in blazes is going on here?” Ivan demanded, hooking an insolent thumb at Colton. “McLean here says he wants to talk to you—alone. When I told him you’d gone riding, he said he’d wait.”
Cassie’s heart dropped through the floor. “It’s—it’s okay, Dad.”
Ivan scowled. “Whatever you have to say to my daughter, you can say to me.”