Always Dakota (12 page)

He’d reached for his pants, but let them drop as he sat on the edge of the bed. She knew, and had married him, anyway. “Then why’d you go through with it?” he demanded, not sure if he should be relieved or depressed.

“Isn’t that the question I should be asking
you?
”

He shook his head. The answer was obvious.

“I already know you married me for the ranch,” she told him. “I’m not so beautiful, but those cattle of mine certainly are. I’m not naive enough to think you’ve fallen head over heels for me in such a short time.”

He said nothing, silenced by her honesty.

“It’s always been important to me to make everything as clear and above-board as possible,” she stated simply, as though reading his mind.

He nodded.

“I had to say these things because I don’t want you feeling guilty. I knew how you felt when I asked you to be my husband. It was a risk I was willing to take. Naturally, I hope you’ll have a change of heart and that eventually you’ll love me as much as I love you.”

Matt stared at his wife, hardly able to believe that he’d been fortunate enough to marry a woman as forthright and plainspoken as Margaret.

“Do you think you
can
learn to love me?” she asked quietly.

Margaret was almost completely unfamiliar with feminine wiles and manipulative behavior. She was innocent and trusting. Over the years he’d had more than his share of beautiful women and he’d learned that beauty usually faded. Prolonged exposure to a woman he’d once found gorgeous inevitably resulted in disappointment. Look at Sheryl, for instance—as vain and selfish as she was beautiful. Margaret was the first woman he’d ever known who possessed such genuineness.

“I believe I’m halfway in love with you already,” he said. Then, because it seemed the most natural and perfect thing to do, he made love to his wife.

Sarah sensed almost immediately that there would be problems with the pregnancy. At three weeks she started spotting and, terrified she was about to miscarry, she called Dennis at work.

Her husband, ashen with fear, raced her into the doctor’s office in Grand Forks, cursing the lack of a medical facility in Buffalo Valley. After a careful examination, Dr. Leggatt, who’d been the attending physician for both Lindsay Sinclair and Maddy, had ordered complete and total bed rest until at least February, and maybe longer. If Sarah hoped to deliver a healthy infant, there was no alternative.

Never in all her life had Sarah spent this much time in bed.

“Do you need anything before I head out to work?” Dennis asked this particular morning. It was Wednesday in the third week of December.

She managed a smile and casually waved him on his way. So far, she’d been able to occupy herself with designing new quilt patterns. Buffalo Valley Quilts had developed to the point that she felt safe venturing beyond the natural-dyed muslin designs she’d started with. These days, she experimented with bright, bold colors and complex patterns.

With Christmas approaching, the company was busier than ever. Jennifer Logan, who’d worked the longest for Sarah, made trips to and from the house twice a day. It helped Sarah stay involved with what was happening. Jennifer, whom Sarah had recently promoted to manager, had a good head for business. Together they talked over every aspect of the daily schedule. If Jennifer was going to be late or needed an immediate answer, she phoned.

The telephone was set up next to the bed for just that reason. When it rang, Sarah knew it was either Jennifer or Dennis.

“Hello,” she said, hoping to sound cheerful and in good spirits, although she’d grown weary of forced bed rest. She followed her physician’s orders because she very badly wanted this child. Nothing in her life had ever come easy and she’d learned that what she treasured most often brought her the greatest pain.

“Mom.”

Sarah’s heart froze at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Calla?”

“What are you doing home? I called the store and Jennifer told me you weren’t at work. Are you sick?”

Now, their first conversation in months, wasn’t the time to tell her about the pregnancy. Instead, she avoided the question. “Oh, Calla, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you?”

“All right.” Her voice was flat, dull, and Sarah could only imagine what had been left unsaid.

“Me, too.” She’d say anything just to keep the conversation going. “Where are you?”

“Home.”

Sarah had to bite her tongue to keep from insisting that Calla’s home was and always would be with her. She didn’t bother to ask why her daughter wasn’t at school this time of day.

“I bought a phone card. Dad doesn’t have long-distance service.”

Probably because he couldn’t be trusted to pay the bill, but Sarah didn’t say what was already obvious.

“Juliet said you called on Thanksgiving.”

Juliet must have been the woman who’d answered the phone at Willie’s place. “Your grandfather did—we were hoping to talk to you.”

“I was working.” Calla sounded none too pleased about that. “Juliet’s moved in with Dad, but I doubt it’ll last,” she added, almost in afterthought. “It never does.”

“What about Christmas?” Sarah asked, plunging ahead, hoping Calla would consider joining them, if only for a few days. “Will you be working then, too?”

“I…I was sort of thinking about coming back to Buffalo Valley around then.”

Sarah’s relief was so great, it was all she could do not to break into sobs. She didn’t dare reveal too much emotion. Not to Calla. She cleared her throat. “That would be fabulous. We’d love it if you could.”

“Just for a visit, Mom, so don’t go hyper on me.”

“I won’t,” Sarah promised, although she wasn’t entirely sure what she was agreeing to.

“How’s Jessica?” Calla asked about her best friend next.

“Jessica? Good, great,” Sarah reported. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d talked with the girl. It must be months now. She’d been so busy with the business; she rarely had any opportunity to see the people who’d once been close to her daughter. Jessica and the others hadn’t asked about Calla, either. After so many months of not hearing from her, they’d given up.

“What about Joe?”

“Joe Lammermann?” It was a mistake to ask, but Sarah didn’t realize that until it was too late.

“Of course Joe Lammermann. I went to the Sweetheart Dance with him last February, remember? You’re supposed to be my mother. I thought real mothers remembered details like that.”

Sarah stiffened. “Mothers, even real mothers, aren’t perfect.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Neither are their children.”

To Sarah’s surprise, Calla laughed. “Touché.”

While Calla was still in high spirits, Sarah decided to finalize the details of her visit. “It wouldn’t be difficult to exchange the airline ticket I sent you for Thanksgiving.” She wasn’t actually sure that was true, but she’d gladly purchase another ticket, if necessary.

“I wouldn’t have to stay with you and…and your husband, would I?” she asked. “You told me before that Grandpa said I could have my old room back.”

“I’m sure he’d be willing to make the same arrangement,” Sarah assured her, hoping her excitement didn’t show.

“In that case, I’ll come home, but only for Christmas.”

“Just one day?” Sarah shouldn’t be greedy, but she wanted Calla to stay much longer. A week, possibly two. Her heart’s desire was that her daughter would recognize that she’d been wrong to leave.

“I might be able to stay a bit longer than one day,” Calla offered, her tone suggesting she’d bestowed a tremendous favor.

“How long?” she asked warily, fearing Calla would use the opportunity to hurt her.

“A week,” Calla announced tautly, as though she expected an argument.

“That would be perfect.” Sarah couldn’t quite disguise her delight. “I’ll call the travel agent in Grand Forks today and have the tickets sent to your father’s.”

“Ah…Mom, listen, would it be possible for you to get the ticket mailed to my job? You know what a slob Dad can be. Things have a way of turning up lost or missing at his place…so it’d probably be best if I could pick up the ticket at the BurgerHaven.”

“All right.” She reached for a pen and paper and wrote down the address. Then, because she was curious as to why Calla had rebuffed her previous gift of an airline ticket, she asked, “Why didn’t you want to come for Thanksgiving?”

Calla hesitated. “Dad told me you were pregnant. I thought it was a ploy to keep me with him, but I wasn’t sure.”

Sarah closed her eyes and swallowed tightly. It
had
been a lie, but it wasn’t now. Clearly this wasn’t the time to mention her pregnancy.

“He was lying, wasn’t he?”

Willie had lied. He couldn’t possibly have known; she hadn’t known herself. Sarah suspected it wasn’t the first time he’d misled their daughter. “That’s why you didn’t come here?” she asked, not answering Calla’s question.

“No…the ticket went missing, and well, that’s the reason I wanted you to have it mailed to the BurgerHaven.”

“The ticket went missing?” Sarah repeated.

“Dad said it must have gotten lost…”

That rat! He’d returned the ticket himself and let Sarah believe Calla had heartlessly rejected her offer.

“I’ll make sure the new ticket’s mailed to the BurgerHaven,” Sarah promised. “Or you could pick it up at the airport,” she suggested, but Calla seemed to find that an intimidating prospect.

“I want it right here, in my hot little hands,” she joked. They spoke a few minutes longer and although Sarah didn’t want to end the conversation, Calla’s telephone card had nearly expired and Willie was due home any minute.

“I’ll see you next week then,” Calla said quickly.

“Next week.” Sarah replaced the telephone in its cradle and if she hadn’t been ordered to rest, she would have danced around the room. She had to let her daughter know about the baby, but she’d bide her time and choose exactly the right moment.

Buffalo Bob pressed the telephone hard against his ear, listening intently. He’d never met Doug Alder, the Savannah attorney Maddy McKenna had recommended, but had talked to him several times over the phone. The case involving Axel was complicated, to say the least, and Doug had decided to work with a California law firm, which meant additional fees and a larger retainer.

During a conference call earlier in the month, both Bob and Merrily had talked to the attorneys regarding their situation.

Merrily had done most of the talking. Her reluctance to work with the authorities was obvious. She didn’t trust the lawyers any more than she did Axel’s birth parents.

“Well?” she muttered now, looking to Bob for an answer.

Still listening, Bob held up his hand and shook his head. It was difficult enough to understand the complexity of what Doug was saying without Merrily’s constant interruptions.

“As we decided, I contacted Child Protective Services for the state of California on your behalf,” Doug Alder continued.

“You didn’t mention where Axel was, did you?” Bob demanded.

Merrily’s eyes flared wide.

“No…no. I did exactly as we agreed. You tell Merrily I kept my promise to her.”

“I will,” Bob said, relieved. He’d wanted this to be another conference call, had wanted to include his wife in the meeting, but she’d refused. The first call had ended abruptly, with her nearly in hysterics. Bob had felt trapped—between Doug’s recommendation and Merrily’s need for comfort and reassurance. He didn’t know how she’d cope if they lost Axel.

“I explained the situation,” Doug went on, “but it’s messy. Merrily not only took Axel, she drove him across state lines. That’s a federal kidnapping charge, a serious offense.”

Bob realized that if they weren’t careful, his wife could end up serving jail time. He wouldn’t be exempt from charges himself. His hand tightened around the receiver. “I know there are…problems.”

“It doesn’t help matters that she didn’t get in touch with the authorities when she learned Axel’s father intended to sell him.”

“She doesn’t trust the so-called authorities!” Bob shouted, losing his patience. “Besides, Merrily
did
report what was happening. She called Child Protective Services, but by the time they arrived the bruises were gone. Merrily tried to tell them, and the woman took a report, but nothing ever came of it.” If anything, her reporting the abuse had made matters worse. Shortly afterward, Axel’s parents had decided to sell him to the highest bidder.

“It’s understandable, considering her history.” Doug sighed. “Merrily’s drug conviction could hurt our case.”

Bob’s eyes flew to his wife. “I know.” He could barely choke out the words. She had a drug conviction—and she’d kept it hidden from him! Throughout the entire ordeal, Bob had been nothing but forthright and honest with Merrily. He’d risked everything for her and the boy, and she hadn’t trusted him enough to reveal the truth about her background.

“That’s not all.”

A hard knot formed in Bob’s chest. “There’s more?”