As Darkness Gathers (Dark Betrayals Book 2) (34 page)

The only thing I knew was that I loved Clay more than I’d ever thought I could, watching him be the best father he could possibly be with our children. Even when he had to be stern, and Simone would look at him with those big eyes and her lower lip trembling. He always melted so quickly it made me shake my head and tease him about making me the bad guy.

Simone giggled and beamed at me. “Mommy, Daddy said we’re both his angels.”

“Did he?” I smiled into father’s and daughter’s identical blue eyes and then tilted my face up as Clay leaned over to kiss me. He could still thrill me with just a chaste caress of the lips.
 

“Uh huh! What about Bwudder, Daddy?”

Clay caught Edgar in his other arm when his son lunged for him from my arms. With a wince and chuckle, I untangled his fist from my hair.

“Brother’s my angel, too.”

Simone leaned over and smacked a kiss on Edgar’s cheek then she pointed at the bed. “And Quee?”

The dog lifted her bonneted head.
 

“Quee, too,” Clay said.

Simone reached down and patted my stomach. “And Baby. We’re all your angels.”

He jostled both children, making them squeal with delight. “You sure are. You’re even wearing a halo today.”

She giggled. “This isn’t a halo. This is my pwincess hat!”

There was a knock at the front door, and then my mother called, “Hello? Anyone home?”

With a shriek, Simone started squirming, and Clay let her slide to the floor. She bolted from the room, one hand holding her princess hat in place, the other keeping my nightgown rucked up around her belly button. “Gwanma! Gwanpa!” she yelled, tearing around the corner. “Happy bir’day, Gwanpa! I got you a pwesent! Wanna know what it is?”

Clay laughed. “I better go catch her before she opens all the presents. You know your mom and dad would let her.”

“I’ll be right out.”
 

I settled a hip on the edge of the bed and leaned over to remove the bonnet from the dog’s head. Queequeg thumped her tail on the mattress and rolled to her side.
 

Clay and I thought she was probably about thirteen or fourteen. She was slowing down, but she was as patient and loving as ever.
 

I stroked a hand over her ears and kissed her nose. “Such a sweet old girl, aren’t you?” Then I closed the bedroom door behind me so she wouldn’t be disturbed when all the kids arrived.
 

When I entered the living room, Edgar was cradled in my mother’s arms with his head on her shoulder. He was blinking owlishly, and I knew he’d be asleep soon. My father sat on the couch with Simone standing behind him, her arms around his neck, giving him hints as he playfully shook the gift I’d helped her wrap—one of her baby dolls—and tried to guess what was in the box. Clay was opening the front door for my brother, his wife, Laurel, and their three-month-old daughter, Bea.

Clay fired up the grill on the back deck, and soon, hot dogs and hamburgers sizzled and the warm, late spring air was filled with the scent of summer and celebration.

Julia and Daniel showed up with their two young boys—four-year-old Bryce and two-year-old Andy—and platters of cupcakes.
 

After Bryce was born, Julia and I had closed the bakery and solely did special event orders, operating out of her kitchen. We lived a couple of streets over from one another in a quiet, residential neighborhood about fifteen minutes from my parents.
 

Arnold Beecher arrived, stole a sleeping Edgar from my mother’s arms, and joined the men around the grill. When Simone caught sight of him she squealed and tore across the lawn to hug his legs. “Gwanpa Beechy!”

He knelt to wrap his other arm around her in a hug and then tickled her. Giggling, she skipped away to join the boys playing on the jungle gym.
 

When Mr. Beecher straightened, I caught the sheen of tears in his eyes, and he had to clear his throat before he spoke. “How are you, my dear?”

I smiled and clasped his hand. “I’m fine. How’s William?”

“He’s confused more often than not, but he’s doing well in the institution. Since retiring, I’ve been able to visit him almost every day during the week.”
 

Timothy was the last to arrive to the party with several of his college buddies in tow. There was an excited chorus of “Timmy!” when he stepped through the gate of the fenced-in backyard.
 

He sidled up to Clay with some papers in his hand. “Clay, will you sign these for school? They need them as proof of my summer internship at your law office.”

After retrieving a pen, Clay scrawled his name across the requisite forms. “There you have it,” he said before returning his attention to the burgers and hot dogs.
 

“I’m going to leave these inside. Don’t let me forget them!” When Timothy came back outside, he joined his friends and the little ones in a rousing war of water guns.
 

Julia dropped down beside me on the swing under the oak tree. Her hair was its natural wheaten blonde, but her clothes were as colorful as ever. She rubbed her burgeoning stomach, sighing when Bryce shot his little brother in the face with a stream of water, and the smaller child let out a roar before charging after him. She shook her head. “If I have another boy and you have another girl, we’re trading.”

She’d no sooner said so than Simone came racing around the jungle gym dragging a water gun almost as big as she was. The nightgown and scarf had been shed, and she ran after the boys clad in only the tiara and polka dot tights yelling at the top of her lungs, “I’ll get you, my pwetties!”
 

Julia and I glanced at one another and burst out laughing.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Well . . .” She straightened then shouted, “
Andrew Hutchison!
” She heaved herself off the swing and waddled after her youngest. “Do
not
put that in your mouth, young man.”

I chuckled and then glanced across the yard to find Clay watching me. I waved a hand, and he smiled.

Laurel was trying to corral the children into washing their hands for lunch, but Darcy stole Timothy’s water gun and soaked the back of Laurel’s blouse. The kids fell down laughing in the grass.
 

“Darcy’s in trouble now,” my mother murmured, taking the space Julia had vacated beside me on the swing, and we both watched as Laurel talked Simone out of her Super Soaker and then turned it on her husband.

My mom held Bea, who was sound asleep, her little rosebud mouth pursed and her fist tucked under her chin.
 

I looked across the expanse of grass and shrieking children and saw that Clay still watched me. Even across the distance I could feel the heat of his gaze. It wasn’t until Daniel nudged him with his elbow that he glanced away.

“They’re asleep now,” Clay said as he joined me in the kitchen.
 

I retrieved the last clean glass from the dishwasher and put it away in the cupboard before arching my back and stretching. Clay stepped behind me and kneaded the taut muscles in my lower back. I moaned and leaned into the pressure of his fingers. “Keep that up, and I’ll be a puddle at your feet shortly.”

He brushed my hair aside to press his lips against my neck. “Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

I tilted my head to give him better access, and when he slid his arms around me so he could splay his hands over my stomach, I covered them with my own. “Oh . . . not within the last hour.”
 

He caught the tendon between my neck and shoulder with his teeth, and I shivered.
 

“Should I give you a demonstration? Just so you don’t feel neglected?” he asked.

“Yes, definitely.”

He chuckled then spun me around to face him before lifting me to sit on the countertop. He pulled my nightgown over my head, and as he dipped his head against my shoulder, his breath rasped across my skin.
 

Later, when he plucked me off the counter, I murmured, “My nightgown.”

It was pooled on the tiles underfoot.

He grabbed it off the floor and then carried me from the kitchen.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Speaking of which,” I whispered as he treaded silently down the hallway. “My nightgown that Simone was wearing earlier. Do you know where it is?”

“I think it’s hanging from the top of the slide,” Clay whispered as we paused in Edgar’s doorway.
 

Edgar cooed in his sleep, his diapered behind sticking up in the air.
 

“Last I saw it, it was blowing in the breeze like a flag,” Clay said, and I buried my face in his shoulder to muffle my laugh.
 

Next, we peeked into Simone’s room.
 

She was sprawled crossways over the mattress using Queequeg’s chest as a pillow, and both dog and girl snored quietly. The baby doll she’d given to her grandfather as his sixtieth birthday present was clutched in her arms. She hadn’t been able to part with it.

Back in our bedroom, I sighed as Clay slid under the covers with me. He pressed a gentle kiss on my lips and then scooted down the mattress until his head rested on my stomach, his arm curled over my thighs. That morning, we’d felt the first stirrings of the newest addition to our family.
 

I stroked a hand over his short hair and traced the curve of his ear and the strong line of his jaw. “Comfortable?” I asked, a teasing note in my voice. When he didn’t answer, I placed my hand on the smooth, muscled plane of his back. It rose and fell in the slow, even cadence of sleep.

I closed my eyes and smiled in the darkness.

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Also by Emma Elliot

A Thin, Dark Line

When Cormac O’Malley—Dogwood, Ohio’s former outcast and a man just released from prison—returns and shows up on her doorstep, librarian Eloise Carmichael hires him as a handyman despite her family’s warnings and her own misgivings. Eloise begins to form a tentative friendship with the tortured, aloof man and unknowingly becomes ensnared in his quest for vengeance.