Promises to Keep (25 page)
“It’s not your fault,” Travis protested. “I told my mother that the sins of the father—or mother, in my own maternal grandmother’s case—don’t always leave a smear on their children. I told her, but she wouldn’t listen. All she wants to think of is how I fell in with the relatives of a monster.”
Travis stood up to face everyone, and his heart sank at the shock and anger he saw on each face. How could any of them accept this story based on nothing more than his word? Hell, he sure wouldn’t have accepted it, if he were in their place.
“Look,” he appealed, “My mother is dead wrong about so many things. She never made an effort to get to know Annie. She plotted to get me away from all of you. Every single time I’ve tried to live my own life these past two years, she’s threatened to reveal this information to ruin your family. Now she’ll use it as ammunition against you once she finds out about Hank, and not suffer a speck of guilt over it. She’ll try to discredit you. To prove Annie couldn’t possibly be a decent mother.”
He had to push it out of his mind, that his mother might have any kind of right to Hank. Never, not with the kind of hatred she felt.
Tears coursed down Travis’s face as he met the devastation his story left behind. “I wanted you to know. Because if there’s a way for her to use this to her advantage, and if she can find an attorney and a judge she can put in her pocket, she’ll do it.”
He edged toward the door, knowing as a family, they needed time to process this. “I’m going to go. I’m sorry,” he whispered to Henry, who still looked shaken and crushed. “So sorry. Whatever you need, testimony, anything, you’ve got it. I just want you to know I’m on your side. My mother has no right to do this to you. No right to treat Annie this way.” With that, he moved to the back door and let himself out, before he broke down any further. He didn’t dare look at Annie or Hank, otherwise he’d beg to stay. The door swung shut behind him.
Annie hurried to catch up with Travis as he strode down the sidewalk. He turned to face her, his body slumped, his hands shoved into his pockets.
She came to a stop three feet from him. Her eyes searched his and her heart clenched at the anguish she could see in their drenched blue depths. “Travis—”
“It’s all right. I won’t bother you again, Annie. Just let me know if you need me for anything, okay? If my mother’s attorneys contact you, I’ll be there for you and your family.” He took several steps backward. She could see the way he trembled.
“Travis, listen to me—”
He kept his head down, shoulders hunched inward as if to ward off pain. “I don’t have much money right now, but I promise as soon as I can get something set up for Hank, I’ll be sending you regular support for him, and I’ll—”
“
Stop
!” she shouted, and watched him flinch. His air of utter defeat cracked her aching heart. She stepped forward and pulled him into her embrace. His arms snapped around her body reflexively and he shook even harder.
She buried her face against his shoulder. “I don’t want your money. Hank doesn’t need your money. But he does need his daddy. You can’t put a price on family, Travis. Don’t even try.” She raised her face to his and tenderly brushed at the fresh tears on his cheeks, knowing hers were just as wet. “If you mean it, if you want to be part of this family, if you’re ready to tell your mother what she can do with her control, that’s all I need to know.”
He released a shuddery breath and rested his forehead against hers. Intoxicated by the feel of his arms around her after two years of starvation, Annie clung to him. Maybe it was wrong to put herself through it, or take a chance he wouldn’t hold steady this time. Maybe she courted another broken heart. But she’d never stopped needing him.
“It could get ugly, Annie.” He rumbled the warning against her temple.
Her lips curved into a relieved smile. “I can handle ugly. Just as long as you’re beside me, I can handle just about anything.”
Travis slipped his hands up her arms and cupped her face, and she could have drowned in the love she saw there. He whispered, “Do you still have my ring?”
She nodded. “I still have it.”
“Will you wear it again, Annie? Will you let me put it back in your finger?”
Her head tilted to one side as she considered his request. She wore the ring on a chain around her neck, hidden beneath her clothes. She’d placed it there a few days after their breakup. Except for when she’d been in the hospital giving birth to Hank, it never left her side.
“You first have to tell me what the ring means to you, once it’s back on my finger.”
In her ear he affirmed, “It means I marry you as soon as we can find a preacher. You’re almost nineteen. I’m over twenty-one. I’ve never stopped loving you, not for an instant.” He brushed his mouth over her lobe, and she shivered. He raised her chin with a finger until her eyes met his. “I need you, Annie. You and Hank.”
Her smile bloomed.
“Yes.”
First, Susan noticed the huge smile on Annie’s face when she and Travis returned to the kitchen. Then she saw the sparkle of Travis’s topaz and diamond ring, back on her sister’s finger. Even the most insensitive clod in the world could have felt the love between them.
Maybe it was a match made in heaven, after all. But Susan knew they had a hell of a lot of challenges to face and tribulations to overcome, including Ruth Quincy.
Silently she stepped to Mark and took Hank from his arms. As soon as their brother realized what was going on, he’d probably be too angry to want to cuddle his nephew. Mark used to like Travis. But a lot had happened, and Mark protected the women in their family. Plus, he sported a mean temper.
“Mama? Daddy? We’re getting married.” Soft words from Annie, but the tone stayed firm. Her hand clasped Travis’s as they faced the family, determination on both their faces. Susan leaned against the counter and grinned. Seemed she was getting herself a brother-in-law, after all. She brushed her fingers over Hank’s hair and felt him cuddle closer. He yawned against her neck, needing a proper nap. But no way would she leave the kitchen long enough to take him upstairs. Judging by the dark frown on Mark’s face, she might miss some entertainment.
Next to Annie, Travis seemed to radiate youthful confidence as well, but even from several feet away, Susan spied a film of nervous sweat on his upper lip. He feared they’d all reject him for leaving Annie the way he did. For things that were his fault and all the things which weren’t. For telling them what kind of monster Franklin Turner had been.
Susan watched as Mama got to her feet and shushed Mark for whatever he muttered under his breath. She spoke in an undertone to him, and he ground his teeth together. Susan pursed her lips at him in a mock-kiss and almost laughed aloud at the nasty glare he shot her.
Annie and Travis both clung to Mama when she slipped an arm around each of them. Daddy took her place as soon as she let them go, and he hugged them as well. Annie wiped her tears away and took Hank from Susan’s arms, then carried him over to Travis.
They faced each other. Two identical heads of silky black hair, two sets of eyes, one bright blue and one deep brown. Hank tilted his head to the side, and when Susan glanced at Travis, she saw the same tilt to his head. It brought a sting of emotion to her eyes.
Annie must have seen the similarity as well because she gulped back a laugh/sob, and said to Hank, “Can you say ‘Daddy,’ Hank? This is your daddy. Can you give your daddy a hug?”
Without hesitation, Hank held out his arms to Travis, who awkwardly balanced him on one hip. He flung a look of new-father panic around the room, before his eyes fastened on Hank. The baby stared at him, fascinated.
“Hi, Hank.” Travis visibly shook with emotion.
Hank fluttered long, inky lashes at his father and smiled, showing off several baby teeth. He patted Travis’s cheek with one dimpled hand and exclaimed, “Da!”
Travis brought Hank close to bury his face in his son’s neck. “Yeah. That’s who I am.” His voice broke. “I’m your Da.”
Reunion
Every muscle in her body tightened, Ruth perched on the settee in her study. Fury rushed through her.
The old fool! How
dare
he patronize her? How dare he treat her with such triviality?
She’d expected Judge Timothy Harbawker’s cooperation, his agreement to instigate the paperwork necessary to serve the Turners with a custody challenge. She’d expected him to assure she’d win.
Instead, Timothy patted her hand as if she were a five-year-old imbecile, mouthed a few ridiculous platitudes, and hurried up the stairs, eager to spend his time with Ronald, her vegetative spouse.
She’d have to obtain her grandson on her own. Which meant she’d have to leave Quincy Hall.
Her stomach instantly clutched and she broke into a sweat. She hadn’t been past those doors since she’d brought Ronald home from the hospital, two years ago.
Ruth moved to the sideboard, feeling the need for a restorative. Ordinarily she abstained from alcohol before seven o’clock in the evening, of the opinion that daytime indulgence was a sign of weakness. But perhaps a small drink would banish her insistent headache. She poured a healthy splash of brandy into a glass and downed it in three gulps. The potent liquor surged through her body.
Steadier, she returned to her desk to plot her next move. It did seem pointless to engage Timothy Harbawker, unless she could prove the Turner brat to be a poor mother and report those findings to him. She would need to have the girl watched and followed, her personal habits documented. As distasteful as it might be, she’d have to hire an investigator.
Dan Marley could find one for her. Of what use were dedicated employees, if they couldn’t take on the more unpleasant tasks? She’d call Dan this evening and give him explicit instructions.
She would speak to Travis and let him know she was going to intercede on his behalf, although he certainly didn’t deserve her courtesy. Yesterday he came home briefly to check on his father, and ran back out the front door before she could accost him. At the time, she thought little of it. But this morning, she called Janice to ask how their children’s outing had gone, only to discover Catherine hadn’t seen him since that night. Ruth puzzled over where on earth he’d spent the day and most of the evening. She’d gone to bed at eleven, her usual bedtime, uneasy because Travis was still out. And this morning, he’d been up and gone before she came downstairs.
She reached for the telephone to call Dan, but laid the receiver back in its cradle as a disturbing thought came to her.
What if Travis had been—God forbid—over at the Turner house? What if he knew about his son?
Even worse
,
what if he’d run off with the wretched girl?
He wouldn’t.
But of course he would. She had to face reality. Even with sweet Catherine patiently awaiting his marriage proposal, Travis possessed enough contrariness to run out and marry Annie Turner, just to spite his own mother.
Trembles overtook her at the mere thought of Travis doing something so recklessly disastrous. She groped for the nearest chair. Her headache, beginning to abate, came back twice as strong.
She had to speak to him. He might be at the Turner’s house this very minute. She had no idea where the family lived. They probably didn’t even have a telephone.
Two minutes later, she flipped through the phone directory on a search for Henry Turner’s name. When she found it, she reached for a pen, clenched her fingers tightly, then snatched it up and dug for a notepad. She scribbled down the address and tossed the pen aside, wondering how on earth she’d find the inner fortitude to actually step outside the doors of Quincy Hall and into her car. Which she’d never learned how to drive. Well, no matter, she’d find someone to drive her.
