A Town Called Valentine: A Valentine Valley Novel (15 page)

“Oh, you must mean divorced. My lucky day. I’m glad my bad judgment gives me an edge over perky college students.”

His laugh was a low rumble, and they kept looking at each other until Dr. Ericson marched back into the room, holding a folder in one hand.

“Damn, I’m organized,” he said with satisfaction, spreading open the folder.

Emily held her breath, shocked to find that she hoped her grandmother was somehow wrong, that Jacob Strong was her dad, that everything could go back to the way it was.

Chapter Thirteen

N
ate reached to take Emily’s hand, then stopped himself. He saw both courage and fear in her face and knew that regardless of what had happened in his past, he didn’t have to brace for the unknown like she did.

Doc lifted his head and somberly narrowed his black eyes at Emily. “I remember your mom and her case quite well, but I wanted to confirm my memory before saying anything. She was definitely pregnant before she left town.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t look away from her face, pale now, with a hint of tears she didn’t let fall. But . . . hadn’t she already known this? Or had some part of her still not wanted to believe?

Her voice trembled as she said, “Is there any mention of my—of the father?”

Doc shook his head. “I remember asking, but she refused to tell me even though I insisted that a young man deserved to know the truth. She said she’d do what was best, and that was the last I ever heard from her. Did see her in town once or twice when you were little, but that was all.”

Emily nodded, biting her lip, then managed a rueful smile. “If you don’t know the father’s name, I’m not sure how to find out. There was only one close friend, and she didn’t know about the pregnancy.”

“Guess you’ve got a mystery.”

Color was returning in splotches to her face, and her voice took on an edge of anger. “My father—the man I thought was my father—died when I was little. But I loved him, and I remember him. Do I really want to know if my mom lied to him as well as me, if she used him? She wasn’t the best mom in the world, but this makes her out to be . . . some kind of monster.”

“Or a frightened teenager,” Doc said neutrally.

“She wasn’t a frightened teenager for long,” Emily said bitterly. “She could have told me many times over the years. But then she always thought she knew best.”

Nate wondered if Emily was remembering her mom’s little talk on her wedding night. Had Delilah meant to spill the secret then and changed her mind?

“Could she have been protecting you?” Nate asked.

She regarded him impassively. “Or protecting someone else? Probably herself. It would have been inconvenient to deal with it all, with the emotions she caused.” She wiped a hand down her face and forced a smile for Doc as she stood up. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear all this.”

Doc Ericson came around the desk and took her hand. “Anytime you need to talk, I’m here. Sometimes a neutral person can help make things clearer.”

“Thanks. What do I owe you for the appointment?”

He waved a hand. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything but answer one question.”

“You’re very kind.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder, and said to Nate, “I’m ready to go.”

She was quiet when they got in the pickup, and although he put the keys in the ignition, he didn’t start it up. Should he say something? Comfort her? They were trying to keep each other at a distance, but this was so big.

And then she started to cry, big tears sliding down her cheeks, and he felt absolutely helpless. He drew her into his arms, and she clung to him, her face pressed into his chest. Rubbing her back, he whispered the only words he could, that it would be okay.

At last, her sobs quieted, and only the occasional shiver swept her body. With a sigh, she relaxed against him and let him stroke her hair.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured at last.

“Yep, women cry a lot when they’re with me.”

She glanced up at him in bemusement.

“With gratitude,” he finished solemnly.

She chuckled and pulled away, leaning her head back against the seat and closing her eyes.

“Do you feel okay?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I—I don’t know what I feel. I finally have to accept it, you know? It’s like everything I thought about myself is turned upside down. I’m angry with my mom, I feel sorry for my dad—and then I wonder if he knew. I mean, come on. Wouldn’t you know if a woman had a full-term baby seven months after you met her, or however long it was?”

“Maybe he was so in love, he didn’t count the months—or he didn’t care, especially once he saw you.”

“Damn, you say the sweetest things,” she said ruefully.

“Or maybe he knew from the beginning, and agreed to everything, but died before he could tell you the truth. And your mom . . .”

“Go ahead, find a good excuse for her,” she said bitterly.

“Maybe she loved him, too, and when he died, she only wanted you to remember the best about him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re giving her too much credit. You didn’t know her. She was a selfish woman, and whatever excuse she made to be able to sleep at night, believe me, it was all about
her.
”

There was nothing he could say to that, but he silently thanked God for the parents who raised him.

“So what are you going to do now?” he asked. When her eyes filled again, he regretted the question immediately. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No, no, please, I’m the one who’s sorry, dragging you into this mess, crying all over you. Thank God it’s raining, so you can explain your wet shirt.” She sighed, turmoil clouding her eyes.

“Jacob Strong was your dad, whatever else you find out. You have memories of him, just like I have memories of my biological father. Believe me, you can thank God your memories are far better than mine.”

She studied him intently, and he knew he’d said way more than he meant to, but her pain seemed to bring words out of him he hadn’t planned.

Emily wanted to ask him so many questions but knew she was only looking for a distraction, and there was that dismay in his eyes again before he’d turned to start the pickup. He didn’t want to talk to her about his past—he didn’t want her to know things about his family. She understood that, but he’d just given her the realization that something far worse than a divorce had happened to his family.

“You’re right, he was my dad,” she said softly. “And I’ll never know the truth of my parents’ relationship. But I can know the truth of my paternity,” she added, her voice becoming flat and impassive.

“But you can’t solve it right now, not on an empty stomach. My grandmother asked you and me to come to brunch this morning, and since I forgot to tell you in advance, we’ll just pretend I did.”

She had to smile. “How did they know we’d be together this morning—I know you wouldn’t tell them about our doctor appointment. Imagine what they’d think about
that
information.”

He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Grandma knows I’m helping you with the renovations. Brooke has a big mouth. I got the invitation when I stopped in yesterday to fix the light switch.”

“Did you find little scratches like someone had used a screwdriver to sabotage it? Your grandma might be pretty devious.”

They glanced at each other and smiled, even as Nate drove out of the parking lot.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I talked to my dad about your mom. He confirmed that they were just friends, by the way.”

“I can’t believe you actually asked him.” She could only imagine the awkwardness of
that
scene.

“I didn’t ask him—he volunteered the information. And he won’t tell anyone.”

“I know that.” She should be angry that Nate hadn’t asked her permission first, but she wasn’t. Frankly, it freed her up to talk to Doug Thalberg herself eventually. Sighing, she said, “I guess I’ll have to figure out what to do next about my real dad. I’ll go through my mom’s things again.”

“And maybe you can go back to Cathy Fletcher and see if she can give you the names of some boys they hung out with.”

“She said they didn’t date much.”

“But you know better now.” He hesitated. “And I don’t like hearing you say your ‘real dad.’ You know Jacob Strong was your real dad, too.”

She stared at him in surprise, feeling her eyes sting and her throat close up. Hoarsely, she said, “Cowboy, you better stop being so nice to me, or I’ll start thinking all you ranchers have soft underbellies.”

He rolled his eyes, but she thought his face might actually be getting red. Doug Thalberg had rescued a woman and her son and helped mold Nate out of his love.

Sheesh, she was going to make herself cry again.

The sun had come out by the time they reached the Widows’ Boardinghouse, letting them eat at a picnic table on the back porch. She spent a pleasant hour telling the ladies all about what had been going on, from her renovations, to the lovely curtains, to her new job at Monica’s Flowers and Gifts. All uncomplicated topics.

“Has anyone shown interest in buying your place?” Mrs. Thalberg asked.

To Emily’s surprise, Nate clamped a hand on her knee. She glanced at him, trying not to laugh. Guess he didn’t want her mentioning Leather and Lace. “The real estate agent has contacted me, but he won’t know anything until I’m ready to show the place.”

So Nate thought he could control the conversation, did he?

She looked at his grandma with wide-eyed interest. “Mrs. Thalberg, I finally met your son yesterday. Such a nice man.”

Mrs. Thalberg grinned. “You’re a sweet girl to say so.”

“Nate’s pretty quiet about his family although I do talk to Brooke, as well. I haven’t met his brother yet.”

“That’s a surprise,” the old woman said, narrowing her eyes at Nate, who dug into his pecan pie without looking up. “They’ve always been close, of course, working side by side twelve hours a day. Josh is six years younger, and he used to follow Nate everywhere.”

Nate winced as he washed down his pie with a sip of lemonade.

“Josh wanted to be just like his brother,” Mrs. Thalberg continued. “Once he tried to ride Nate’s horse and got himself thrown. Broken arm, too, but not the first broken bone he’d have, working on the ranch.”

“If I recollect,” Nate drawled, “I was the one who got in trouble for his broken arm, which wasn’t fair, considering I was nowhere near the barn when it happened.”

“That’s how it is with family,” Mrs. Palmer said brightly. “We’re responsible for each other.”

“I never had any brothers or sisters,” Emily said, feeling wistful.

And then for the first time it occurred to her that she actually might. Nate was watching her as if he knew what she was thinking. She wasn’t ready to go public with what she knew, because that was what would happen if she told the widows. They’d make lists and go interview every man of the right age, a Valentine spectacle.

Because they cared, she reminded herself in wonder.

“You should have seen Josh’s reaction when Nate went off to college, and he couldn’t go,” Mrs. Thalberg said, shaking her head. “He was twelve, and a handful, as boys are at that age.”

“They don’t grow out of that,” Emily said dryly.

The widows twittered with laughter, and Nate rolled his eyes.

“It’s hard to be the only man at a hen fest,” was his response. “Grandma, isn’t there something that needs fixing?”

“Don’t you want to hear how Josh moped for days after you left?” Mrs. Thalberg demanded. “He even ran away, saying he was going to Colorado State with you.”

He went still. “I didn’t know that.”

Mrs. Thalberg patted his hand. “Your mom probably didn’t want to worry you. We found him that night, camping on his way to Ft. Collins, him and his dog and his horse.”

Nate smiled faintly. “That was a good dog.”

“Enough reminiscin’,” Mrs. Palmer said. “Emily, now that you’re workin’ at Monica’s—”

“I haven’t started yet.”

“Well, when you do, give me a call, and I’ll come in and talk about a flower order for the preservation committee. We like to congratulate each business when they open or finish renovations after usin’ the grant money.”

“That’s really nice of you. I’ll call.”

“She makes it sound so subtle and tasteful,” Nate said. “It wasn’t always flowers they offered for grand openings.”

Mrs. Thalberg laughed out loud.

“Nathaniel Thalberg,” Mrs. Palmer said with mock indignation. “Your teasin’ is uncalled for.”

“Oh, come on, don’t you remember when the toy store opened? You had free giveaways for the kids—”

“To encourage the parents to attend and become payin’ customers!” Mrs. Palmer interrupted.

“But you gave away cap guns! Nobody even uses them anymore. I don’t know how you found them.”

Mrs. Ludlow sniffed. “We were harkening back to childhood memories.”

Nate leaned toward her. “It deteriorated into a disaster when all the kids were firing cap guns in the store, and the too-sensitive smoke detectors went off, sending everyone running out onto Main Street.”

“And the sprinklers?” Emily squeaked.

“Not enough smoke to set them off. The smoke detectors had to be recalibrated.”

“We were lucky,” Mrs. Thalberg said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “The bill for water damage could have put the committee out of business.”

Emily found her gaze trapped in Nate’s as they at first shared their amusement, until it changed into something intimate. By the time they were in the pickup, intimate had turned into smoldering. She enjoyed his company too much, his sense of humor, his thoughtfulness to his grandmother. He was luring her in without trying to. It was so seductive to feel desirable, to know that she could affect him as much as he affected her. He didn’t look at her as he drove, but his eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched. It was as if he realized that every time they were alone, the passion between them burned just a little brighter, a little hotter.