Once Around (34 page)

Feel like stopping for supper?

No.

If you
're cold, I'll turn up the heater.

Okay.

Get a lot of work done today?

Enough.

Feel like telling me about it?

That last one didn
't even rate a monosyllable.

Her lovely face was set in unapproachable lines. He tried to think of what he might have done or said to cause this breach
, but his mind was blank. That morning everything had been fine between them. Whatever caused this shill of mood had happened in the hours between then and now, and she was keeping it to herself.

It was dark when he let them into the carriage house. She moved quietly about
, switching on lamps, adjusting the front blinds, then drifted back to the kitchen. He

heard the refrigerator open then click shut. He heard the sound of water running. She was at the sink with her back
to him when he approached her.

"
Need some help?" he asked.

She shook her head. Her fiery ponytail danced between her shoulder blades.
"I can handle it."

A two-syllable word. He took that as a sign of encouragement.
"Why should you do all the work?" he asked, moving closer to her.

"
I don't mind."

He placed his hands on her shoulders
, but she neatly stepped away from him. Not a good sign.

"
Talk to me, Molly," he said "If I don't know what's wrong, I can't make it right."

"
There's nothing wrong." Her voice was so tight you could have bounced a quarter off her vocal cords, "Everything's just fine."

"
Bullshit." He saw her cheeks redden. "Don't close up on me. We've come too far for that."

"
Have we?" She spun around to face him. He noticed her anger before he noticed her beauty. That was a first. "How far have we come, Rafe? Maybe it looks different from your angle than it does from mine."

Her words stung. He had no doubt that she meant them to sting.
"You want to know how it looks from my angle," he asked. "It looks like you're angry and hurt, and I'm in the line of fire."

"
You're right," she said. He could see a slight softening of the worry lines between her brows. "I'm angry and I'm hurt, and you're lucky enough to be the closest one to me."

"
I can take it, Molly. I'm not going to leave because you have problems."

She smiled her first smile of the night.
"Maybe you should wait until you hear the problems."

He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm listening."

"
Robert wants me to fly down to the Caribbean and get one of those quickie divorces."

He struggled to keep his expression impassive while inside he was turning cartwheels.
"Will you do it?"

Her smile shifted again
, this time into a line of pure steel. "He also wants joint custody of the baby."

Dangerous territory.
"You wanted him to take an interest."

"
Six months ago," she shot back, "not now. Now it's too late.''

"
The baby isn't even born yet. He--

"
Are you taking his side?"

"
I'm not taking anybody's side. I'm pointing out a few things you might have missed."

"
He's not coming anywhere near this baby. Not while I'm still breathing."

"
He's the father."

"
One night doesn't make a man a father, Rafe," she said quietly. "It takes a lot more than that."

"
So you're going to shut him. out."

"
He walked out on me," she said. Her hands settled over her belly. "On the baby. He hasn't even asked if things are going well or not."

"
Maybe he's having a change of heart."

"
I wouldn't think that would be on your wish list," she said. Her mood went from fire to ice in the blink of an eye.

"
Is it on yours?'

"
That's not funny."

"
You're right," he said, "it's not funny at all."

"
I told Spencer to tell Robert he can go to hell. What do I need him for? This is my baby. I'm the one who's carrying her; I'm the one who makes the decisions."

He knew better than to argue
with her. If he started down that road, he would end up telling her all about Sarah, and this improbable world they'd created would crash down, around him. He was selfish enough to want to keep that from happening, but that didn't take away the guilt.

He had to remind himself that he had no rights in this situation. She hadn
't asked for his opinion and she probably wouldn't take it if it were offered. He wasn't her husband. The baby she carried wasn't his. They were uneasy lovers with the odds stacked against them. She could tell him to go to hell, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it except tell her that without her he was already halfway there.

#

Molly couldn't shake her bad mood. She knew none of this was Rafe's fault, that he had absolutely nothing to do with her problems with Robert, but that didn't stop the sense that her whole world was somehow off-kilter.

They worked together in the kitchen in silence. She made the toast and hashed brow
ns. He made the scrambled eggs, coffee for him, and decaf tea for her. They sat down at the picnic table near the back door and ate their evening breakfast in continued silence. She hadn't a clue what he was thinking. The truth was, she hadn't a clue to anything about him. This man who had become the central figure in her life was as big a mystery to her now as he'd been the day she met him. She didn't know him any better than shed known Robert.

Which meant she barely knew him at all.

She wondered if this was her pattern, to skim the surface of life, to accept the obvious and not look for trouble; so when trouble showed up, it hit her right between the eyes.

She put down her fork and leaned back in her chair. Suddenly the day weighed so heavily on her shoulders that she found it impossible to eat or think or stay awake. She struggled to keep her eyes open
, but it was a losing battle.

Rafe was at her side instantly. She felt herself being lifted up into his arms
, heard his heart beating beneath her ear, the creak of the stairs as he carried her to the bedroom they'd shared.

"
Don't be kind to me," she whispered as he settled her down on the bed. "I don't want to need you." Men didn't stay with her. Her father hadn't. Neither had her husband. He brushed her hair back from her forehead then kissed her on both eyelids. She could feel herself sinking deeper into an almost dreamlike state that was part exhaustion, part surrender. He lay down next to her on the bed and gathered her close to him in a full body hug that was as close to heaven as she had ever experienced.

"
I don't know anything about you," she murmured, "not the first thing." All she knew was his smell and his touch and the way he made her feel. You couldn't trust those things any more than you could trust a whisper in the night.

"
You know I'll never leave you," he said.

You will
,
she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
One day you'll leave.

She slept deeply
, with her face pressed hard against his left bicep. The room filled with the sound of her breathing, the sweet smell of her skin. In a perfect world, this would be enough. This second. This moment. There had been a time when he wouldn't have asked for more, when he Could have been content with a glimpse of happiness and never known the difference. .

Now he wanted it all. He wanted more than a glimpse of happiness
, he wanted It around the clock, every day, all week, all year; He wanted a lifetime of happiness and he wanted it with Molly and her baby. The carriage house came to life when she was there. Shadows were banished by sunshine. Birds sang from the rafters. The smell of perfume wafted through the rooms like a blessing from God.

She took it all with her each morning when she left.

One day you'll leave..

He heard her say it before she fell asleep
, in that one unguarded moment not even Molly could prevent. He knew she couldn't turn to her family for help. She'd told him about the multiple marriages and half-siblings scattered about the country. Her husband had been her real family, their house her only home. She carried herself with strength and dignity, but he knew what that cost her. He could still see her the way he'd first found her, bent over at the waist with her arms wrapped across her belly, moaning low like the wolf he'd found in a trap all those years ago. She never talked about, her pain, but he knew that it was there. There was so much he didn't know about her, so much yet to be discovered.

She was right
, of course, when she said that she didn't know one damn thing about him. Most women peppered a man with questions. Where are you from? Who are your people? Tell me who you've loved. How did you come to live in this carriage house so far from Montana?

Molly asked nothing. She didn
't ask about Miriam or about his ex-wife. She didn't ask if he had children or dreams or skeletons in his closet. He wasn't sure if she didn't care or just didn't want to know. It unnerved him, this lack of interest, He had no experience in dealing with a woman who lived solely in the here and now. Karen had spent half of their brief marriage worrying about where they would be in five years' time, where they'd been five years earlier. There had been no present with his ex-wife--only where she was going and how fast she could run away from where she'd been. She told everyone within earshot that what she had wasn't enough, that she was destined for better things.

He
'd thought it was just talk, the kind of dream-spinning his Ojibwa mamaw used
to do by the light of the fireplace, playing
what if
in a world that never seemed to know she was there. He'd thought once the baby came Karen would settle down and be happy with him. He'd thought dead wrong.

He hadn
't been listening. She'd told him exactly what she wanted. She'd told him exactly what she was going to do, and somehow he hadn't heard her. He probably couldn't have stopped her even if he had realized what was going on, but he might have held onto his daughter.

Lately he
'd been thinking a lot about Sarah. Being with Molly, lying there at night with his palm flat on her belly, his thoughts trailed back to that little house on the far edge of the ranch. To that little cradle he'd made with so much love and so many dreams. He had to remind himself that round-cheeked baby girl with the big blue eyes existed only in his heart and in the handful of snapshots stuffed in his drawer. She was almost a teenager. now. She had her own thoughts and opinions and hopes and fears. For all he knew Karen had presented her second husband as Sarah's father. His daughter might not even know he existed.

He
'd come close to telling Molly tonight. He'd almost told her the whole story, how he'd let his family walk out the door and he hadn't done anything to stop them even though he loved them more than life itself. She'd never understand.

It was his mistake. His broken heart.

His secret.

#

Molly woke up as Rafe bent down to pin a note to his pillow.

"
I have to give a bid on some work over in Lambertville," he said kissing her gently. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

She sat up
, still half-asleep, and tried to focus on the clock. "Wh-what time is it?"

"
Early," he said. "Not even seven. Go back to sleep."

"
I'm wide awake," she protested, stifling a yawn. "I'll have a cup of tea and start working on the manuscript I brought with me."

"
I wish you'd get some more sleep."

"
And I wish you'd quit worrying so much. Go give your estimate. I'll have coffee ready for you when you come back."

"
You're feeling okay?"

"
A good night's sleep can work wonders," she said then kissed him. "I'm fine."

He didn
't look convinced. The furrow between his brows was deep as a crevasse.

"
You're sure?" he asked.

"
Positive." She gave him a gentle push. "I'm going to shower and get down to work."

She showered after he left but found she wasn
't in the mood to jump right into work. She and Jinx had reached an accommodation of sorts, and the cat now allowed Molly to pet her and feed her. She'd never had a pet before. Her parents moved too often, and Robert said he was allergic to everything with fins, fur, or feathers. She liked it when Jinx curled up on her lap and cast annoyed looks in the direction of Molly's belly each time the baby kicked.