A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (15 page)

Flighty Sassy Bing, spouting wisdom? No. Rosie would never have suspected. “I guess we all have facets of ourselves we conceal,” she mused.

“Put a hold on the wedding plans until I tell you otherwise. I need to get some things straight with Dean.”

“Of course.” After Cass left, Rosie made a notation in the Bing-Lassiter file.

Her thoughts immediately wandered back to Sassy’s view of love, thinking it didn’t always hold true. Her own situation was messy, passionate, and the road ahead had a huge bump in it. That hardly made it true love.

With all they’d committed to, it was natural she and Sam had fallen for each other a little bit. Every day it became harder to maintain an emotional distance.

Thank goodness he kept a clear head. His ability to remain pragmatic about their situation made it possible for her to keep her emotions in check.

* * *

D
espite Lorelei’s illness, Sam made some writing progress during her naps and after Rosie’s workday ended. Bedtime was proving a trial when the doorbell rang twice. He squared his shoulders and swung open the door, fingers itching to throttle whoever stood on the other side.

Jasmine. He should have known. “What do you want at this hour? It’s Lorelei’s bedtime.”

She winced as Lorelei’s cries drifted over the balcony. “Lovely seeing you too, Sam.” She glanced upward as Rosie’s murmurs quieted Lorelei’s cries. “Regardless of the late hour, I’ve got an early flight in the morning and need to see my baby. Obviously, she’s awake.”

“She is now. You were practically beating the door down.”

“Well? Go get her.”

“No. Seeing you upsets her.”

“I’ll soon have partial custody, so she’d better get over it.”

Sam ignored her overblown confidence. “Why are you doing this, Jasmine? You’re not interested in being a mother.”

“I’m not here to debate the issue with you, Sam. Get my kid and bring her down here.”

“She does have a name, you know.” Hearing a slight creak behind him, he turned. Rosie descended the stairs carrying Lorelei.

“Well, at least your relatives have some sense.”

“My what?”

“Your relative. Rosie. She said her name was Moreland and you two were related.”

So, Jasmine hadn’t bothered to connect the dots. As far as he was concerned, his ex-wife didn’t deserve to know what she’d be facing in court. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“What is it with you people? Do you all talk in riddles?”

When Sam shrugged, she turned to Rosie. “What are you to my daughter? I have a right to know.”

“She’s my wife,” Sam answered before Rosie could respond.

Rosie stopped about midway on the stairs. She carried a visibly trembling Lorelei, whose eyes were round and focused on Jasmine with trepidation. Rosie murmured to the child again and rubbed circles on her back. Without taking her gaze off Jasmine, Lorelei tucked her head into Rosie’s shoulder.

“I said bring her here.” Jasmine’s voice took on a hard edge.

Lorelei face crumpled and tears spilled over her cheeks. She clung to the shawl collar on Rosie’s robe.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She’s sick and frightened. But Sam is her father. If he says—”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Jasmine, don’t,” he warned, her words like a punch to his gut. She turned to him with a smirk marring the perfectly symmetrical features he’d once thought beautiful. Now she simply looked cold and ruthless. It cost him dearly to hide his reaction, concentrating on the sound of Rosie quieting Lorelei.

“Sam?” The soft query came from the stairs.

Something in his expression as he looked at Rosie must have betrayed his feelings. Jasmine made a sound of disgust. “He’s not her father.”

Blood roared in his ears. He gripped the doorknob tighter, struggling against the blow. He’d suspected, had even struggled against loving the child yet to be born, but once the nurse placed a squalling Lorelei in his arms, she became
his
.

Sam stood between the open front door and the stairs. He located the newel post and held on, creating a literal barrier between his family and Jasmine. “Her birth certificate says differently, and I have custody. Nothing you say or do will change that.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” And it was. To Lorelei. He concentrated on relaxing tense muscles, remembering the love that had flooded him when he’d looked into Lorelei’s tiny face. Love made them father and daughter.

“I won’t let you keep her away from me and make me look like the latest Mommy Dearest. I’ll find a way to win this.”

“Perhaps I could help with that,” a voice offered from the doorway. “I’d be glad to testify on your behalf.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

D
ean Lassiter stood on the front porch, his attention focused on Jasmine. Rosie acknowledged the sinking feeling of inevitability and dread through a surreal haze, her head still reeling with the possibility that Lorelei wasn’t Sam’s biological child. This wasn’t happening. It had to be a bad dream. A cricket choir, only so much background noise earlier, now swelled into the stunned silence.

“You have information I should know?” Sam’s ex eased toward the doorway with a sultry, almost carnivorous gleam in her eye, as if Dean had gotten tangled in her newly spun web.

So many questions. Rosie’s mind shied from them, and she acted on a strong sense of self-preservation. “Crawl back under your rock, Dean. Or better yet, go find your fiancée. This is none of your business.”

Her attempt at damage control was feeble at best, but she had to try. Avoiding the pain of her past was no longer an option.

“Thanks to your stupid meddling, I don’t have a fiancée. So I’m making this my business.” Dean stepped into the room, uninvited. “If I tell the judge how Rosie killed our baby, her being in your kid’s life won’t exactly be a plus. She’s unfit to be a mother.”

Oh, God. She gripped the banister and hung on.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” Jasmine cooed.

“Dean Lassiter.” He preened, sidling alongside her with all the confidence of a runty Bantam rooster let loose in a henhouse.

“You have proof of this? Proof I can use in court?”

Rosie eased her butt onto the nearest step, still halfway between floors. She couldn’t look at Sam. What if her secrets hurt him and the precious child who clung to her with such trust? Lorelei snuggled closer, her dark eyes wide and apprehensive.

“She knew she was pregnant, and lost the baby playing football with a bunch of frat guys. There are witnesses, medical records. We could go somewhere more private, and I could tell you the whole story.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Sam stated. “A story. Pure fiction. Rosie isn’t capable of such a thing.”

He stepped between Dean and Jasmine, facing his former wife. “Thanks to you, I’m wiser and tougher this time around. Don’t mess with me and mine, or you’ll suffer for your mistakes. You’re welcome to supervised visitation here, if it’s really time with Lorelei you’re after. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave—with Mr. Lassiter—after I’ve seen the kid,” Jasmine answered. “So why don’t you instruct your murderous little wifey to bring her down here?”

Despite the cinder block of fear dragging at her, Rosie got to her feet. Lorelei didn’t deserve to be subjected to a mother she feared.

“You’ve made two visits to this house.” Rosie said, zeroing her gaze on Jasmine. “You’ve seen your daughter. Haven’t you accomplished what you came here for?”

Jasmine stared hard at Rosie for a moment, her eyes narrowed.

Sam looked back and forth between the two women.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Jasmine swept through the door as if a dozen paparazzi awaited her on the porch. Dean followed close to her heels, but not before pinning Rosie with a hate-filled glare.

He would try to destroy Sam’s little family, but she couldn’t allow that. Wouldn’t. She turned and retraced her steps back to Lorelei’s crib. Behind her, sounds of the cricket choir faded away and the lock clicked into place.

Rosie breathed a sigh of relief, reached for a miniature nightgown and changed the now sleepy little girl. There was no sound to signal his appearance in the doorway, but she felt Sam there all the same. Rosie pulled the nightgown over Lorelei’s legs.

“Why are you changing her?”

“She’s been in that old blue gown all day. It’s great to lie around in your pj’s when you’re sick, but this one smells fresh and clean. She’ll sleep better.”

“You’re a good mother, Rosie.”

“Stepmother,” Rosie corrected him. “Temporary stepmother.” She concentrated on the task at hand, deftly threading three tiny buttons through their openings until the task was finished. Now what? She would have rocked the little girl, but Lorelei lay down and reached for her ever present “blankie.”

Rosie spread the soft covering over the child. Sam leaned over the crib and kissed Lorelei’s brow, one hand at Rosie’s waist. The scene was so family-oriented and perfect, she stood motionless, absorbing his warmth, imprinting the memory.

Sam touched her elbow and tugged her toward the hallway, steering her into the bedroom they now shared. “Mind explaining what that whole exchange between you and Jasmine was about?”

So he was going to ignore the elephants in the room? Well, she was in no hurry to talk about them either.

Rosie had avoided his gaze, afraid she’d see doubts and disappointment. That he’d defended her so convincingly earlier was nothing short of amazing, but he’d had a role to play.

“I’m sure she needed to be able to testify that she’d come all this way to visit with her daughter. The objective had been met. She’d visited here twice and she did
see
her. I simply pointed out the obvious hoping Jasmine would leave and Lorelei could rest.”

On unsteady legs, she approached the bed and sat on it. The memory of lying here in Sam’s arms last night taunted her. All she wanted was to lean against him, feel his strong arms around her again. She craved the connection she’d found within his embrace, but her vulnerability at this moment made that inadvisable.

“But we’ll be asked about the visits too.” Sam seated himself next to her.

“You’re the one who said Jasmine sees the situation from the myopic perspective of what she wants and how it impacts her career. I banked on you being right. What she wanted most right then was to hear Dean spill his dirty lies.” Rosie braced herself, having given Sam the perfect segue to demand answers.

“You kept your head. I wasn’t thinking that clearly. You’re much more a mother to Lorelei than the poor excuse who gave birth to her.”

Hunching her shoulders, Rosie tucked her hands beneath her legs to keep from reaching for him.

Sam moved away to stand at the bedroom window. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his back to her.

Jeezus Pete. Why didn’t he demand answers to the questions hanging in the air? Was he waiting for her to deny Dean’s accusations? Or was he giving her space, waiting for her to articulate the horrors of that day? Could she bring herself to admit the truth?

“I’ll tell Lorelei when she gets older.” Sam’s low voice interrupted her thoughts. “When we’re past all this and she’s old enough to understand it’s the way I feel that makes me her daddy.”

Startled with the abrupt change of subject, Rosie remained silent, unsure what to say. If she hadn’t been so embroiled in her own emotional turmoil, she’d have understood Sam’s thoughts were consumed with the revelation of Lorelei’s paternity.

“Oh, Sam. It’s true? You’re not her . . . biological father?”

He hooked his thumbs inside his jeans pockets and turned to her with a self-deprecating grimace. “I wasn’t sure, though I consistently used condoms when she would’ve been conceived. It doesn’t matter anymore. I couldn’t love her any more than I do. At least my name is on the birth certificate. That single act gave me legal rights and may well be the one good thing Jasmine’s done for Lorelei.”

“A very good thing. You’re a better parent on your worst day than she could hope to be on her best.”

Though Rosie hadn’t known Lorelei long, the little girl had captured her heart, so she understood the parental love. Most likely Sam had felt a plethora of emotions at some point—betrayal, anger, hurt, and a bowling ball of guilt. It sat in your stomach because you trusted too much, didn’t see the train wreck coming, and someone else got hurt.

Maybe Sam would understand her situation too.

“No residual questions about whether Lorelei should be with Jasmine?” he asked.

“You’re joking, right? She shouldn’t even be allowed to adopt a pet.”

Her indignant response brought a smile to Sam’s face. With two long strides, he reached the bedside and pulled her into a hug. “You’re a very special woman, Mrs. Moreland. Given half a chance, I’d renegotiate to keep you.”

A quick dousing with ice water wouldn’t have shocked Rosie more. But she had no time to react before being plastered to Sam and very expertly, very heatedly, very thoroughly kissed.

When she thought the top of her head would explode from the sudden rise in body heat, Sam eased away and held her at arms length. His dark eyes smoldered with repressed desire. “Are you okay with the way things have changed between us? This isn’t quite what we agreed to.”

“It was inevitable, don’t you think?” Living together, a romantic wedding and honeymoon. What two people with chemistry like this could have resisted?

His gaze searched her face for a long moment. “Yeah. I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

Had she missed something? “Sam—”

“I think we should begin where we left off in the kitchen last night—and very soon—but right now I need to give Bill a head’s up on the possibility of trouble. I don’t want him blindsided by Jasmine’s lawyer.”

Trouble caused by Dean. Her past threatened the success of Sam’s custody case.

She had to tell him the truth, her grim reality. That would stop his fleeting notions about keeping her.

* * *

D
espite her resolve, Sam had single-minded ideas about their evening agenda, and talking wasn’t uppermost on the list when he returned to the bedroom. Caught in a vortex of emotion and pleasure, Rosie convinced herself they would talk later. But morning brought the distraction of Lorelei’s much happier face and a mad dash to open the shop on time. Broaching the subject became harder and harder.

An entire week passed by and with it Labor Day, before Sam casually mentioned their impending court date after an evening meal.

“We have an actual court date?” Rosie forked the leftover meatloaf into a plastic container and handed him the platter to rinse.

“I thought I told you.” Sam paused in the act of spraying water over the platter. “Bill said a month, so I guess we have three weeks left now.”

Three
weeks
? The mundane sounds of Sam loading the dishwasher and starting it were amplified in the quiet room. It was part of a routine quickly established: home from work, family time during meal preparation, a leisurely dinner, bath and bed for Lorelei, kitchen cleanup.

“No. You didn’t mention it.” She hadn’t known they had so little time or she’d have savored the mundane moments more.

“You want me to put that in the fridge?” Sam offered.

She handed him the leftover containers without comment, stunned to learn their idyllic life would end so soon.

“Hey, what’s with the long face? This is good news. Before long we won’t have this hanging over our heads and we can relax, enjoy life.”

His words brought everything into focus. She’d been living in a fantasy world while Sam waited to learn what secrets she held that might destroy his world. “Of course you can’t relax. I’m sorry for making you wait, Sam. I should have told you about Dean and my miscarriage right away.”

“You sure you’re ready?”

“I’ll make some tea.”

Sam declined a cup, but she found a steaming mug between her fingers comforting, the combined aromas of fruit and spices calming.

They settled on the couch. With one small lamp illuminating their immediate area, Rosie gave him the Cliff Notes version of her relationship with Dean. How he’d undermined her self-confidence, becoming increasingly controlling and manipulative, cleverly isolating her from those she cared about without her realizing it was happening.

She took a drink to dissolve the lump forming in her throat and took a shaky breath. “I’d made the decision to break things off when I discovered I was pregnant. Granted, it was a surprise, but Dean’s reaction to the news was strange. I’ll never forget how he looked at me, as if I’d betrayed him.”

Sam’s warm hand closed over her own and squeezed gently, conveying his support and sympathy. The action gave her courage to keep going. “He denied being anything but ecstatic, and things were okay for a few days, though he insisted we keep the news between us until I started showing.”

“You didn’t tell your parents?”

“No one. Not about the baby. They still don’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I can’t imagine you being so isolated.”

How could she make him understand? She sipped at the now tepid brew and set it aside. “Dean is a master manipulator. The changes in your life are small and happen slowly, so you don’t see it until one day when you’re asking for permission like a child, or seeking his approval to avoid another fight. Then you see the changes in yourself ,and it’s scary because you don’t recognize the person you’ve become.”

She flattened one palm against her abdomen and the memories crowded into her mind. For a few moments, she relived the joy of knowing she carried life inside her, a secret miracle. She’d fallen in love with her baby when it was still microscopic, a miniscule zygote undetectable to the human eye.

Dean cut her off every time she broached the subject, so she’d bottled the dreams—lovely, Technicolor scenes of future happiness that didn’t reflect her reality.