Black Ties and Lullabyes (6 page)

“Bil y said he was going to cal you,” her mother asked tentatively. “Did you hear from him?” Bernie closed her eyes. “Yeah, Mom. He left me a message.”

“I hope you’l help him out. The job sounds very promising.”

“A reference from a blood relative doesn’t count for much.”

“But you present yourself so wel . Anything you say wil help.”

“He stole from his last employer.”

“He says that was just a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah. He misunderstood that he wasn’t supposed to steal things.”

“But it’s been so hard for him,” Eleanor said sadly.

“Growing up without a mother.”

Oh, God. Here it comes
. “Mom, your sister died when Bil y was eight years old. He’s twenty-nine now.

Don’t you think it’s time he stood on his own two feet?”

“Bernadette. If I were the one who had died, I would have wanted Rose to help you.”

Ignoring, of course, the fact that Bernie hadn’t needed any help from anyone in approximately thirty years. But that was logical, and her mother had never run on logic.

“Okay, Mom,” Bernie said on a heavy sigh. “I’l give him a reference.”

“I’m sure you can think of something nice to say.” Yeah. She could say he had good manual dexterity and superior powers of persuasion. As long as they didn’t realize she was talking about him punching a TV remote and begging for a loan, maybe she wouldn’t be struck dead for lying.

“Sorry to be abrupt,” Bernie said, “but I have plans this evening. I need to take a shower.”

“Dinner with friends?”

“No.”

She blinked hopeful y. “A… date?”

As if she could speak it into existence. “No.” Her mother frowned. “You’re playing poker again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m playing poker. I like poker.”

“It’s gambling.”

“Given the guys I play with, there’s real y not much gambling involved.”

Eleanor let out a weary sigh. “You do take after your father.”

Yes. She did. And if only her mother would accept that someday, Bernie would be the happiest woman alive.

Her father had been a cop, shot in the line of duty when she was only sixteen. She didn’t know if she’d been a tomboy from birth, or she’d just loved her father so much that she wanted to be just like him. He took her fishing. To basebal games. Taught her how to play basketbal . The first time he took her to the shooting range, she’d hit a bul ’s-eye. He told everybody within range of his voice that his baby girl was a hel of a shot. It had been a losing battle for her poor mother to get her to wear perfume when her favorite scent was gunpowder. To this day, every time Bernie smel ed it, it was as if her father was smiling down at her from heaven.

“Can’t I make you dinner before I go?” Eleanor said. “Maybe some chicken soup to help you feel better?”

“No, thanks.”

“You stil don’t look wel . Promise me you’l get home early and get some rest.”

“I wil .”

Eleanor grabbed her purse and walked to the door.

“Wait,” Bernie said, picking up the white box her mother had left there earlier. “You forgot this.” Eleanor turned back. She froze, looking at the box, then tilted her head. “Is that mine?” Bernie felt a tremor of apprehension slither between her shoulders. “Yeah, Mom. It’s yours. You brought it here.”

Her mother swal owed hard, her hand slinking to her throat, her eyes blinking anxiously.

“Did it come from the church?” Bernie asked. “The wedding?”

“Oh!” Eleanor said, exhaling, her eyes fal ing closed, then opening again. “Cake. It’s cake. From Katherine’s daughter’s wedding. I just forgot for a moment. Such a busy day.” Her mouth turned up in a shaky smile. “It’s why I dropped by. To bring you the cake. It’s delicious. White buttercream frosting on the outside, but the cake itself is chocolate. Not exactly traditional, but what woman ever complained about chocolate? And such pretty yel ow roses on top. With a vase of yel ow roses beside it, it made such a beautiful cake table.”

Bernie winced at the information overload.
See, I
remember all the details. Every one. So there’s no
problem. No problem at all.

“Wel , I’d better be going,” Eleanor said breezily.

“You have things to do. Enjoy the cake. And thank you for the book. If you’l come for dinner sometime soon, I’l try one of the recipes.”

“I wil .” Bernie fol owed her to the door. “Mom?” Eleanor turned back. “Yes?”

“Have you been feeling okay?”

“Me? Of course I have.”

“Are you sure?”

“Bernadette,” she said, her voice laced with nervous laughter. “It’s nothing. I’m sixty-eight years old. Sometimes it’s just… just normal forgetting. You know.”

Don’t panic. It was just a momentary lapse. Things
are still okay for now.
“Yeah. I know.”

“I’l cal you tomorrow. See how you’re feeling.” Bernie started to say that it wasn’t necessary, but she stopped herself. She could see now that she couldn’t let a day go by without talking to her mother, without judging each day’s experience in light of the one before. Sometime soon there would be a tipping point, and Bernie needed to recognize it when it happened. She had the terrible feeling that day was coming sooner than she expected.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Bernie said. “Give me a cal in the morning.”

Her mother nodded and slipped out the door, and Bernie closed it behind her. She turned and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Damn it.
Damn it.
She hated that life had thrown her this curvebal . And she hated that she hated it. A good daughter would remain calm and sympathetic instead of feeling the undertow of responsibility dragging down until she could barely breathe.

Why on earth had her mother let her health insurance lapse?

If Bernie could count on help from the rest of the family, it might be different. But al she had was a grandmother who was too old and too eccentric to take care of anyone. Bil y, who was al ergic to work and sponged off anybody he could. There were others who were less of a pain but loony in their own right, or they weren’t local, so how much help could they be? If only her father were stil alive to run interference and take care of her mother, Bernie would be free to live her own life. But now it fel on her to be the sane one, the voice of reason, the one strong thread that kept the ragged fabric of her family from fal ing apart at the seams. To make sure her mother was protected, now until the end.

She thought about what had happened with Jeremy. About the money she wasn’t making now.

For al her complaints about him, she never would have quit that job unless she’d done something so stupid that quitting had been her
only
option. It wasn’t until now, almost two months later, that the sting of that experience had even begun to fade. She’d just been so damned angry, and then she’d tossed down those shots, and then Jeremy had taunted her, then kissed her…

No. There was no excuse for what she’d done.

None at al . She’d never been one to blame anyone else for her own actions. It was the only time in her adult life she’d behaved in a way that made her ashamed to think back on it, and now she had to live with the memory of it forever. And in the coming months and years, she’d just have to find a way to keep things afloat that didn’t involve a great big paycheck from a womanizing mil ionaire.

She drained the Gatorade bottle and headed to her bathroom to take a shower, then head to Bil ’s house for poker. Just for tonight, she was going to lose herself in Texas Hold ’Em and a few longnecks and pretend everything was A-OK.

A couple of hours later, Bernie sat at Bil Ramsey’s dining room table, playing poker with some of the other security specialists from Delgado & Associates.

Only a few faces were missing—those who had an evening assignment or were on a job out of state.

Bernie had already won a couple of hands, which was a good thing. These days, every penny counted.

She took a break and went into the kitchen. Gabe fol owed. She grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to him.

“Got a cal from Bridges today,” he said, taking the bottle. “That’s the third time in the past few weeks. He wants you back.”

Bernie froze for a second, then opened her bottle.

“You know I’m not interested.”

“You don’t even want to know what he’s offering now?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously, Bernie. You might want to consider—”

“He only wants me because he can’t have me. He’l throw al kinds of money around just to get his way.”

“That’s the key. He wants
you
.”

“Fine. But I don’t want him.”

“You never did tel me why you requested reassignment.”

“You never asked. And I appreciate that.”

“I assumed you had your reasons.”

“I do.”

“But I’m asking now. Does this have anything to do with the robbery attempt at Bridges’s house the night before you quit?”

Bernie turned away. “That was nothing.”

“I know the robbery wasn’t. The police made an arrest later that night. But did something else happen?”

Bernie took a sip of her beer, wishing this topic had never come up. “Could my answer jeopardize my job?”

“Hel , no.”

“Then my answer is that I’d rather not answer.” Gabe stared at her a moment longer. Final y he nodded. “Okay. I’l tel Bridges he’l have to keep putting up with Max.”

And Bernie would bet her last dol ar that Max drove Jeremy crazy. Max was six-five, big as a house, and could be scary as King Kong if he set his mind to it.

But Jeremy wouldn’t have a problem with those things. What he would hate was that Max never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. Jeremy wasn’t one to tolerate silence for long without fil ing it with some random comment or smart-ass remark, but with Max, it would become obvious very quickly to Jeremy that he was talking to himself.

“I know it’s more money for both of us,” Bernie told Gabe. “But I just can’t consider it right now.”

“Forget the money,” Gabe said. “You’re one of my best. I’m not putting you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

Bernie nodded, truly appreciating that about her boss. Gabe Delgado was an ex-cop in his midforties who was too rugged to be handsome and too rigid and unsmiling to be approachable by the average woman. Whether by choice or by fate, marriage didn’t seem to be in the cards for him, but some woman’s loss was his employees’ gain. Fiercely dedicated to his business, Gabe was a fair man who ran a tight ship, which meant Bernie had a boss she could respect.

They went back to the table and sat down again.

Lucky dealt the next hand. Bil picked up his hand, looked at the flop, and his mouth twisted with irritation.

After three beers, his poker face had deserted him, if he’d ever had one in the first place. He was a family man through and through, with two kids and a great big mortgage. He kept mostly to local short-term assignments, which usual y meant odd hours, but at least he was home most evenings. His wife, Teresa, was one of those perfect moms who made motherhood look easy. Their house always looked beautiful, the children were wel -behaved, and Teresa looked as if she hadn’t broken a sweat.

“So how’s the gig with Bridges going?” Bil asked Max.

“It’s a job,” Max said.

An image of Jeremy flashed through Bernie’s mind

—his hands, his mouth, the sound of his voice—and a heavy flush of heat went to her cheeks.
Fever,
she thought.
It’s just fever. Fever that goes along with
whatever this thing is you have.

Bil turned to Bernie. “Stil don’t know why you backed out of that assignment. Bridges was paying you through the nose.”

“That’s my business,” Bernie said.

“Was it some woman thing?” Lucky said. “Did he offend your feminist sensibilities?”

“No, Lucky,” Bernie said, “
you
offend my feminist sensibilities.”

Lucky grinned. “Every chance I get.”

“Like that time you told her she had a nice ass,” Max said. “You’re lucky she didn’t split your ribs and rip your heart out.”

Lucky shook his head sadly. “A guy just can’t give a woman a compliment anymore.”

Lucky’s taunting rarely bothered Bernie, but right now, she didn’t feel up to dealing with it. He was good at his job, with a resume that was nearly as sterling as her own, so Bernie couldn’t fault him there. But when it came to chasing women, he was second in line only to Bridges. But while Bridges rationed his glowing smiles, using them only when they suited his purposes, Lucky was as quick to laugh as he was to move in on any woman within range of his voice. He’d probably banged two girls on the way there tonight and had one waiting for him when he got home.

Bernie tossed in her bet for the round, only to have it hit her again. The nausea. She took a deep breath, which did nothing to ease the pain.

“Wow, Bernie,” Bil said. “You don’t look so good.

What’s up?”

“He’s right,” Gabe said. “You do look a little green.” She felt green. A nice shade of bile, to be exact.

“You got the flu or something?” Bil asked.

“Bernie can’t have the flu,” Lucky said. “She’s too mean for the germs to survive.”

“I’m fine,” Bernie said, even though she was beginning to believe she wasn’t.

And then she felt it again. An even bigger wave of nausea, undulating like a riptide dragging her out to sea. She did her best to keep her face impassive, but it was a hard-won battle.

Bil stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “You know, Teresa looked like that once for three solid months.”

“Teresa had the flu for three months?” Gabe said.

“No. She had morning sickness for three months.” In unison, the other three heads swiveled around and looked at Bernie expectantly. Until that very moment, the possibility hadn’t even crossed her mind.

But now…

No. No way. She’d seen Bridges put on a condom.

She was sure of it. Pregnant? That was ridiculous.

But just as she was blowing off the possibility, another wave of nausea hit. She gritted her teeth against it, sliding her hand against her stomach.

“There!” Bil said, pointing. “That’s it! The look!

White as a ghost, weaving back and forth, hand on stomach—”

She jerked her hand away and sat up straight. “I told you already. It’s nothing.”

“So you’re tel ing me you couldn’t possibly be pregnant?”

“For God’s sake, Bil !” Teresa cal ed from the kitchen.

Bil leaned in. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Bil !” Teresa shouted. “Wil you
stop
?”

“Wel ,” Lucky said, “if she was with a guy, he’s a goner now. Don’t black widows eat their mates?” When Bernie didn’t honor that nasty remark with an equal y malicious comeback, Bil sat back in his chair and eyed her careful y.

“Hmm. The suspect is being evasive. Gentlemen, it looks as if we have a possible crime scene here.” Bernie sighed. Okay. Fine. She knew the dril . Not one of these guys thought she could actual y be pregnant, but they sure loved getting under her skin.

They were al that way. Like a pack of wolves. The second they sensed vulnerability, they circled around and went in for the kil . She remembered the time a pair of Bil ’s tightie whities ended up in the wash with the colored stuff and they turned pink. Once word got out about that, they took up a col ection and made a donation in his name to the National Center for Gay and Lesbian Awareness. He was stil getting fundraising phone cal s.

Right now, Bernie was simply the target du jour.

“Wil you guys just shut up and play?” Bernie said, taking a swig of beer. Big mistake. The instant the liquid hit her stomach, her insides felt like puzzle pieces rattling around in the box.

Bil gave her a smug smile. “Looking a little woozy there, Bernie.”

If she’d been operating at a hundred percent, she would have countered the smart remarks by reminding Bil of the time he’d gotten drunk on a fishing trip, cast his line, and hooked himself in the ass. But feeling the way she did right then, most of her attention was focused on keeping that swig of beer from sneaking back up her throat.

It was time to get out of there before it succeeded.

But just as she’d decided to fold her hand and clear out, Bil picked up a twenty and tossed it in the middle of the table. “I’ve got twenty bucks that says I’m right.”

“Are you nuts?” Lucky said. “We’re not even sure Bernie is an anatomical y correct woman, and you’re betting good money that she’s
pregnant
?”

“Jesus,” Teresa muttered from the kitchen. “This is why I can’t take him to Vegas.” She came out to the dining room and grabbed Bil ’s half-empty beer bottle.

“I’m cutting you off.”

Bernie slumped back down in her chair. Now why did Bil have to do that? She’d been born way too competitive for her own good, and dealing with these guys over the years had only sharpened that inclination.

Bil grinned. “We can find out if it’s true right here and now.” He turned toward the kitchen. “Teresa!

Where’s that home pregnancy test?”

She stared at her husband dumbly for a moment, then thunked her head against the door frame with a heavy sigh.

“You have a home pregnancy test lying around?” Lucky asked.

“Yeah,” Bil said. “Teresa’s excessive fertility demands it.” He turned to Bernie. “So how about it?

Shal we see if you should be drinking for two?” Unfortunately, this had just turned into one of those

“damned if you do, damned if you don’t” situations. If she backed down now, these guys would harass her endlessly, giving up only when nine months passed and nothing popped out. But if she went ahead and did it, they were going to laugh their asses off because Bil got her to pee on a stick for twenty bucks. At least with the latter, the harassment would die down faster and she’d be twenty dol ars richer.

She pul ed out a twenty and slapped it on top of Bil ’s. “You’re on.”

To a round of applause and a few catcal s, she rose from the table and fol owed Teresa. As she entered the bathroom, she started to worry. Just a little.

What if she real y was pregnant?

No. No way. She wasn’t even going to entertain the possibility. After al , what were the odds?

Stil , it wasn’t as if there was no chance at al …

Teresa grabbed a blue and pink box from a cabinet, muttering that she was cutting Bil off forever from more than just alcohol, so she sure wouldn’t be needing a pregnancy test again anytime soon. Then she gave Bernie a crash course in how to use the test, apologized again for her husband, and slipped out the door.

Okay. She was supposed to pee on the indicator thingy and then wait five minutes. One line meant she wasn’t pregnant. Two lines meant she was.

She pul ed out a few tissues and put them on the counter, then peed in the appropriate place. She shook it off and rested it on the tissues, then closed the toilet lid and sat back down again, leaning her head on the wal behind her to wait the requisite five minutes. No doubt Bil would be watching the clock, so she had to, too.

She closed her eyes, wishing the light wasn’t so damned
bright
in there. Not only was her stomach throwing her a curvebal , but her head was getting into the game. Her brain felt as if it was booming against her skul . She’d had the flu before, but she didn’t remember it feeling like this.

It seemed as if eons passed before the second hand swept past twelve for the fifth time. She stood up, grabbed the stick, and started to leave the bathroom.

Then she saw the two lines.

For a few seconds, the sight didn’t register. She just stood there staring at it, thinking whatever dire disease she had was making her see double.

Something.
Anything
.

Then her hands actual y started to shake. She could squeeze off a shot at a target two hundred yards away with a high-powered rifle and never so much as twitch, yet suddenly her hands were trembling as if she was standing naked on the tundra. Like a DVD gone haywire, her mind leaped back to that evening with Jeremy. She saw him putting on a condom.

He
had
put on a condom, hadn’t he?

Yes. Yes, of course he had. No doubt about it.

But condoms weren’t a hundred percent, and suddenly she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a period. She squeezed her eyes closed, thinking about how she kept track of the rest of her life so careful y. Why the hel didn’t she keep track of that?

Because she didn’t have much of a need to before.

Suddenly her brain wouldn’t function. Her lungs wouldn’t breathe. Nerve synapses ceased firing. She slumped against the counter like a puppet without strings, overcome by the most horrendous feeling that she’d taken one step too many and fal en right off a cliff. The one man on earth she despised above al others… the man she’d vowed she’d never speak to again for the rest of her life…

She was carrying his baby.