Torn (21 page)
Authors: Christina Brunkhorst
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Frowning, Chelsea placed the handset back into its cradle. Where the hell was he?
I
f one was to ask what Jake Morgan was like, the adjectives would share a similar theme: Easy-going, laid-back, mellow, a team player. A man who loved both his wife and his daughters, enjoyed his private time… Trustworthy. A man whose word you could count on, and who didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. Knowing this about Jake Morgan, no one in his office –– least of all him –– was surprised when the top bosses took him out to lunch to discuss his new promotion.
It seemed every town, regardless of size, was required to have at least two restaurants. One to suit the general, blue-collar, construction, laboring worker, the other to cater to the town’s more illustrious clientele.
Black Creek, Montana was such a town. And right now, Jake found himself seated at an elegant table for four in Ruby’s. A place where he and his wife had only once peeked at the menu.
He tried not to fidget with his silverware –– and it was literally sterling silverware –– while he waited for the waitress to stop filling his water glass. He tried not to feel ill at ease, but something about a place that charged twenty bucks for a four piece shrimp cocktail stuck in his craw. Even his wife, who had grown up in New York City, and had eaten in some of that city’s finest restaurants, glanced at that price tag on the menu and said, “You have got to be kidding me. Five bucks for one freakin’ shrimp?”
And that was just the appetizers. The entrées didn’t even
have
prices attached to them. Jake picked up his menu, tried not to snort when he saw the
venison with red wine sauce
listed. If the shrimp cocktail was twenty bucks, that entrée had to be around forty. A deer tag only cost about fifteen. He perused further,
fresh trout almondine
. Right. He was a fly-fisherman, for heaven’s sake. Jake turned the thick, pristine vanilla page. Ah.
Now
Ruby’s was talking his language.
T-Bone
.
Prime Rib
. Right on. Something that he didn’t have at home in his freezers.
“Hey, Jake! Sorry I’m late.” His first boss, first because she was his direct supervisor, Susan Whittaker, sat down in the empty chair beside him. In Jake’s mind, Susan was also first because she was always looking out for him. Seventeen years his senior, she was a hybrid of mother and mentor. Anytime he had a work-related problem, he knew Susan would listen and treat the issue with a fair, un-weighted hand.
“No sweat, Susan. We’re the only ones here so far.”
“That figures.” The wildlife specialist looked around, obviously taking in the rich cherry wood paneling and cream walls, the navy sateen table cloths, the small bouquet of fresh flowers –– blue bells and forget-me-nots, each with a sprig of silver sage –– that made each centerpiece, and picked up the large, navy leather menu that lay in place of a place setting in front of her. She shook her head. “I will never understand why this place is called Ruby’s and not…I don’t know… Sapphires or something.”
“It’s named after the woman in that painting,” Jake said, nudging his chin in the direction of the portrait that hung on the wall behind the bar. It was large but not overly so, of a young, woman dressed in a ruby gown in the late nineteenth century style. The woman was provocative, yet tasteful, and a satisfied smirk hovered at the corners of her mouth. “This place used to be the best whorehouse this side of Montana. Ruby was its Madam.”
Susan snorted. “That explains the prices,” she muttered, tapping the menu. “How did you know that?”
Jake flipped open his menu to the first page,
Ruby’s ~ Her Story.
A brief description of the restaurant and how it came to be followed the title.
His boss chuckled. “Your attention to detail will never cease to amaze me.”
Jake shrugged and pushed his waist-length braid over his shoulder letting the thick rope hang down his back. “I had time to kill.”
“Well, buck up now. Here come the big boys.”
Susan muttered the aside, and then stood. Jake did the same. “Wayne, Mitchell. I was about to send out a search party.”
Susan’s boss, Wayne Walker, grinned as he shook first her hand and then Jake’s. “Yeah, yeah, Whittaker. I’ll bet you ten bucks that Jake was here waiting for you, too.”
“And I’ll double that bet,” Mitchell Blake –– The Boss –– stated by way of greeting. “Susan… Jake.”
“Okay, okay. You made your point.” Susan threw up her hands in mock defeat, and all three bosses chuckled.
Jake tried to smile but he wanted to get this meeting over with, get out into the field. It was on his agenda to chart eagles today but, from the slow way things stood, he had a feeling it would have to wait until tomorrow.
The Blake party of four took their seats, and everyone picked up their menu except Jake. “You see, Susan,” the head boss began as a waitress filled their water glasses, “Jake’s been waiting for everyone long enough to know what he wants. What’re you having, Morgan?”
“The prime rib, sir.”
“Hm, good choice.” The other man looked over his menu. “I think I’m gonna have the venison with the wine sauce.” He looked up at Jake. “Call me Mitch, Morgan.”
Jake felt a swift kick against his shin, and he glanced over at Susan. She winked at him, and he tried not to grin. “Okay… Mitch.”
~ * ~
Close to two hours later, the sated four sat back with a sigh, and Mitchell ordered a round of dessert and coffee. Jake mentally consigned his eagle charting to tomorrow’s schedule, but he couldn’t complain. He’d just earned a huge jump in salary and position, additional benefits and perks, and additional paid vacation time. Nope. Couldn’t complain. He took a sip of coffee and sat back, relaxed, listening with only half an ear to the bosses debate over some issue he could care less about.
“Jake! How are you?”
He looked around to see Chelsea’s obstetrician walking toward him, a big laudatory grin on his face. He stood. “Hey, Dr. Salisbury.”
“It’s Jessie, remember?”
“Right, Jessie,” Jake amended, shaking the other man’s hand with a smile.
The doctor’s grin widened, and he clapped Jake on the back. “You and Chelsea must be thrilled. Another Morgan into the fray. Congratulations.”
Another Morgan? The smile congealed on Jake’s face. Chelsea was pregnant?
Jessie clapped Jake once more on the back, glanced at his watch. “Well, I’m late for a meeting. Tell your wife I expect to see her in my office the week after next instead; I had to change her appointment, I’ll be out of town at a conference. Okay?”
Mute, Jake only nodded.
“Have a good one,” the physician called as he nodded to the others at the table, who sat gawking, and left.
Jake sat down.
Another Morgan into the fray. Chelsea…
pregnant?
Susan lightly punched Jake in the shoulder. “Hey! You never said a word! Congratulations! You know the office will have to throw another shower. Since we had one at my house when Grace was born, we’ll just have it there again. How exciting! You think it’ll be another girl?”
Another Morgan into the fray. Chelsea.
Pregnant
.
Mitchell and Susan laughed heartily at that statement. “Yeah, right!” the head boss exclaimed. “Jake? Stickler for details Jake? That’s a good one, Walker.”
“Yeah, a pregnancy isn’t exactly something he could miss!” Susan added, using an elbow to jog Jake in the ribs.
Jake’s expected laugh was dry and forced. The others didn’t notice, and he didn’t care. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to see his wife.
T
he house was quiet by the time Jake arrived home from work later that day. The lawn around the house, a brilliant Spring green, carried the scent of being freshly mowed. He parked the pickup next to Chelsea’s white Chevy Suburban and turned off the engine.
Iya and Kemah, having raced to meet his truck the moment they spied it coming up the drive, barked excitedly at the machine, desperate to stick to their training and not jump up against the vehicle. He smiled at them as he opened the door, which set them barking in high-pitched yips as they wagged their tails hard enough to whip their bodies in undulating arches.
Jake stepped out of the truck and patted each dog in turn. Then he looked up towards the house and his shoulders slumped with his sigh. Chelsea. Pregnant. His mental rear-view mirror gave him twenty-twenty images of Chelsea being overly exhausted. Being sick. Of Chelsea losing about five pounds, just as she had during those first few months while pregnant with Faye and then Grace. Of the look of fear hidden deep in her brown sugar eyes.
Why fear? Jake thought he knew the answer. Of course, a history of miscarriage could do that to any woman. Chelsea had been fortunate –– she’d only had one before the girls were born, but the one was enough to make the terror real again for each sequential pregnancy.
His steps toward the house were slow at first but, as he neared, the voices of his daughters carried through the open windows made them faster. He reached the door and opened it, Kemah and then Iya, scrambled inside, nearly knocked him over.
“Dad’s home!” Grace scrambled down from her mother’s lap and ran towards him, her arms open wide for the hug she knew would be coming.
“Dad’s home!” Her older sister Faye echoed, and climbed off the couch as well. She hurried over to her father. Her steps were more dignified than her sister’s –– she had wet nail polish on her toes.
Grace he scooped up into one arm while he tossed his car keys on the counter. He paused in the kitchen to admire Faye’s soft rose pink toenails, then took her hand.
Escorted by his two daughters, Jake walked into the living room, where Chelsea stood, tossing a book of Greek myths onto the couch. She smiled at him, and his heart wrenched. ”Hi, Sweetheart,” she greeted as she crossed the clean floor and gave him a brief kiss on the mouth. “How did your meeting go?”
He jostled Grace over to his other hip and studied his wife’s face. Her smile was genuine but worn out. When she’d kissed him, he smelled fresh toothpaste on her breath, so he knew she’d been sick again. He raised his hand to cup her cheek, rubbed his thumb gently against the soft rise of her cheekbone. She closed her eyes and leaned into the caress, missed the look of anguish that he couldn’t keep from flickering across his face.
“It went fine,” he managed to say. Her brown eyes opened, even as she raised a brow. The look asked,
So then what’s wrong?
Jake motioned his head to Grace, who now squirmed to get down.
Later
, his look said, and his wife nodded.
“I got the promotion,” he said as he walked back into the kitchen to wash his hands.
“Of course,” his wife stated, following him to check on the moose lasagna. “I told you not to stress it.”
“Well, you were right,” he conceded, opening a cupboard and taking out four dinner plates. “Faye, Grace! Come help us set the table!”
“Okay!” Grace shouted from their bedroom.
A moment later, the padding of small feet over the wood floor preceded his children and he handed the ceramic plates to Faye, and the silverware to Grace. He tried not to laugh at the wince on Chelsea’s face when the silverware was dropped onto the oak table with a clash, each plate with a thunk.
A puzzled look flashed across Chelsea’s face that silently asked why Jake would care before she shook her head. “No, last time I talked with him, he was scheduled to start filming a movie in Alaska. Julie told me he’d already gone.”
“Alaska, eh? There’s beautiful country there. Do you know where?”
She shook her head again, and Jake shrugged. “Alaska is something else this time of year,” he remarked. “Wonder if Ty knows about the mosquitoes.”
~ *~
The house was dark by the time Jake stepped out of the shower. The dinner hour long past, the girls were in slumber. He walked into their bedroom and looked at his wife as he toweled his long, dark blonde hair dry. Chelsea lay on her left side as she had with each previous pregnancy, and from her even breathing, Jake knew she was already asleep.
He finished drying off, tossed the towel into the hamper. He joined his wife in their bed, knew that his cool body would awaken her as he spooned up behind her. “Chelsea?”
“
S
o… When are you due?”
Chelsea’s mind screeched to a halt even as her heart galloped on. She prayed that her husband’s hand would stay curved over the dip of her waist and not travel up to her ribcage. If it did, Jake would easily discover how petrified she was by his simple question… and would wonder why.
