Father to Be (41 page)

She didn’t know how long they stood that way. Long enough for his shudders to pass. Long enough for her to find her voice, even though it was husky with unshed tears. “You didn’t kill your wife, J.D. A speeding driver did. You didn’t make your son hate you. Grief did that. And you didn’t give him away. You put him in the custody of people who wanted to give him a loving home.”

Slowly he lifted his head from her shoulder, but he didn’t step away. He didn’t loosen his grip on her. “And what can I blame for my drinking? Because the fact remains that if I hadn’t been drinking that night—”

“If you hadn’t been drinking, and the accident still happened, if the other driver still chose to speed, still chose to run that red light, and Carol Ann still died, then what? On what grounds would you blame yourself?” She shook her head. “J.D., there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of ifs. If you hadn’t turned onto that street, if you hadn’t gone to
that restaurant, if you hadn’t become friends with those people, if you hadn’t moved to Chicago, if you hadn’t married Carol Ann, if you hadn’t ever been born … If you look hard enough, you can find a way to accept responsibility for everything that ever went wrong. But accepting it doesn’t
make
you responsible. Bad things happen. Sometimes we know why. Sometimes we don’t.”

He raised one hand to gently touch her face. “It should have been so easy. She was beautiful, and I was smart. She had a capacity for loving, and I had a talent for healing. She was great at home. I was great at work. She loved me, and I loved her. Oh, God, how I loved her. Our lives should have been perfect.”

Kelsey felt a twinge of pain at hearing him talk about such love for another woman. It made her feel like second best in a contest where only first place counted. Carol Ann was the great love of his life, and she was the consolation prize who could take the other woman’s place but could never replace her.

Then guilt swept away the pain. She had no right to feel sorry for herself. J.D. was the one facing legal charges, a court hearing, damage to his reputation, and loss of the kids, to say nothing of the temptation awaiting him on the table.

She wished she could slip out of his arms and across the deck, gather the beer, and empty it in the dirt. But that couldn’t be her choice. She couldn’t say no for him. If she tried, how difficult would it be for him to go back to the store and simply buy more? He had to want it for himself, had to want to hold on to the sobriety he’d fought so hard for for himself and no one else.

He smoothed back her hair, then cradled her face gently. “I love you, Kelsey.”

For the first time in two days her smile felt real. It wasn’t
Oh, God, how I love you
, but it was a start. Maybe after ten
or twelve years he would feel that sort of passion for her. And if he didn’t, if Carol Ann always remained first in his heart … well, she could live with being last.

After a moment he eased his hold on her, then put a little distance between them. He still held her hand, though, his fingers twined with hers. “Why did you come out here? You were the last person I expected to see today.”

“Oh, my God, Caleb!” Stricken, she squeezed her eyes shut. How could she have forgotten? All this time, all this talk, and she’d forgotten the one thing she should have said first.

Apprehension swept over him, as visible as the shudders that had earlier rocked through him. “What about Caleb?” he asked quietly, cautiously.

“The Thomases called Mitch this afternoon to say that Caleb had disappeared. Apparently he’s run away.”

His fingers tightened until hers throbbed, then abruptly he dropped her hand and paced away. When he turned back, his gaze was filled with regret and sharp-edged despair. “My God, Kelsey, what have we done?”

Chapter Sixteen
 

S
unday morning’s church service was a somber one. Corinna had tried to pay attention to the sermon, but the reverend’s words were difficult to concentrate on when little Jacob, Noah, and Gracie Brown sat in the pew in front of her, looking so lost without their older brother. They were worried sick—and who wasn’t? Regardless of how mature he seemed, Caleb was really just a young boy, and he was in no shape to be on his own. Of course he was more or less safe in Bethlehem, but once he left the valley, why, anything could happen. He must be frightened, hungry and sick at heart.

She
was heartsick.

Once the sermon ended, no one stood around chatting the way they normally did. Some went home to get a quick dinner on the table before joining the search parties. Others went to prepare meals for those who’d worked all morning and all through the previous night. Unable to sleep, she and Agatha had begun cooking before dawn.
They’d dropped off baskets of food at the police department on their way to church and would go home to prepare more.

And, as they’d done in church that morning, they would pray.

“Miss Corinna?”

The timid voice came from behind the nearest tree. She stepped off the sidewalk and peered around to see Garth Nichols all but hugging the bark off. “Yes, Garth, what do you need?”

“Can I … talk to you?”

“Yes, you may.” She folded her hands over the edge of her Bible and waited, but all he seemed interested in doing was digging at the ground with the toe of his good Sunday shoe. “Yes?” she prompted. “What is it?”

“My mom said I can walk home,” he blurted out. “Can I walk with you?”

“I live in the opposite direction, Garth. You know that.” After studying him a moment, she said, “Wait here. I’ll be back.” She crossed the street to the car, where Agatha waited, distractedly tapping one finger on the steering wheel. “Go ahead without me,” she said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

“But where are you—what are you—” Agatha saw Garth, half hidden behind the tree again, and said, “Oh.”

Corinna smiled. Garth Nichols was an
oh
sort of boy. After handing her Bible and handbag through the open window, she returned to the boy. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Then he quickly corrected himself. “Yes, ma’am.”

They walked the first block in silence. At the end of the block, she looked at Garth. “If it’s just my company you’re wanting, I’m flattered. But if it’s talking you want, then you’re going to have to open your mouth.”

He flushed and tugged at the open collar of his dress
shirt. “It’s—it’s about—” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed vigorously, then he fell silent again.

He’d been in her Sunday school class for two years, and while he was one of the rowdier of her students, he wasn’t a bad boy. He simply didn’t get the guidance he needed at home. Nora Nichols had her hands full with work, the house, and one sickly child. Garth’s father wasn’t of much help. His job driving a truck took him away from home for weeks at a time. While the money he earned was needed, Corinna thought quite frankly that the entire family could use less of his money and more of his company.

“Garth,” she prodded again.

He gulped a deep breath, then blurted out, “It’s about Caleb. Dr. J.D. didn’t give him those bruises. We did, Kenny and me and Tim and Rob and Matt. We saw him that afternoon, that Thursday. He was by himself, off at the end of Hawthorne, past the Mickelsons’ house, and we—we decided to pay ’im back for gettin’ Kenny and me in trouble at the church and for givin’ Kenny that black eye and bloody nose, and so—and so we did.”

Calling upon forty years of teaching school to hide her anger, Corinna quietly, calmly, asked, “You did what?”

“Paid ’im back.”

“How?”

“We—we jumped ’im.”

“Five of you. Against one. And when you’d heard that Caleb had blamed Dr. J.D., you chose to keep your silence.”

The boy squirmed. “We hadn’t meant to hurt him, not really, and—and when we heard about Dr. J.D., we thought, well, we thought—”

“Why come forward when someone else was already getting the blame.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his nose with one hand. “But it ain’t right. It ain’t—”

“It isn’t.”

He accepted her correction without a blink. “It isn’t right that someone else gets in trouble for what we done—what we did. I don’t know why Caleb lied about it, but … I have to tell someone.”

“You just did, Garth, and I’m proud of you for coming forward.” She stopped at the next intersection. Her house was a few blocks to the left, the police station a few blocks to the right. She patted the boy’s shoulder before steering him to the right. “Now you have to tell someone else.”

“You mean—” His eyes widened. “But couldn’t you tell ’em for me? Couldn’t you just say you heard it from someone?”

“I could, but it would hardly have the same impact as you telling them. After all, you were there.”

“But … my mom’s expectin’ me home soon. She’ll be real worried if I don’t show up pretty quick.”

“I’ll call her from the police station.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It won’t be so difficult, Garth. I’ll be with you. And believe me, you’ll feel better when it’s over.”

It wasn’t a complete untruth, she assured herself. Once he’d taken his punishment, dealt with the friends he’d told on, and faced up to the people he’d harmed with his silence, he truly would feel better.

Eventually.

A
fter listening to the Nichols boy’s confession, J.D. left the courthouse for the square, where he took a seat on the bandstand steps, closed his eyes, and, for what felt like the first time in a very long time, took a deep breath. On any normal summer Sunday the square
would be host to any number of families enjoying the weather. But this was no normal day, because Caleb Brown—whom most people hadn’t even heard of four weeks before—had run away.

Please, God, don’t let it be anything more sinister than that.

“You look like a man who could use about twenty-four hours of sleep.”

He looked at Kelsey, standing at the bottom of the steps. She’d spent last night with him at the police station, waiting for news, but she didn’t look as wrung out as he felt. In fact, in her pale blue vest and pastel-hued skirt, she looked as fresh as a field of spring flowers.

She looked beautiful.

“I’m under orders to take you home,” she said, offering her hand.

He didn’t hesitate to take it. It was the first time he’d touched her in too long. “Whose orders?”

“Mitch’s. Your dad’s. Miss Corinna’s.” She smiled faintly as she helped him to his feet. “While I might ignore the men, I’ve learned that one doesn’t say no to Miss Corinna.”

“No, ma’am, one doesn’t.”

Once he was on his feet, she let go of his hand. He wondered if it was because they were in public, or because Mary Therese was a few yards away in the police station, or because she simply didn’t want to hold his hand. He’d told her yesterday he loved her, and she’d told him … nothing. She’d smiled that sweet, sweet smile, but she hadn’t said I love you or I like you or I like having sex with you or go to hell. She’d said nothing.

Maybe because she felt nothing.

He settled in the passenger seat for the drive home, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. It was good to have five minutes with nothing to think about except Kelsey, with nothing to do but be with her. Just knowing she
was close enough to touch made everything a little more bearable.

“Here we are.”

He opened his eyes, gazed at the empty apartment, then at her. “Come in with me,” he said quietly.

It was more than a simple invitation, and she knew it. He could see it in the way her eyes darkened, in the desire that flared. She gazed off into the distance for a long time, then looked at him and offered the faintest of smiles, so faint that he might have imagined it.

They climbed the stairs together. He opened the door, then stepped back for her to enter first. She waited in the hallway, and after locking up again, he led the way to his bedroom.

The only light came through the windows and served to shadow more than it illuminated. He didn’t need much light though. Just enough to see her.

Standing in front of her, he fingered the soft cotton of her vest. “You are so beautiful. Off and on through the night, I’d look at you and think how soft and lovely you looked and wonder what you were wearing underneath this. Under the circumstances it seemed inappropriate to care. Now it’s only fair …” He slid his index finger under the fabric where it draped over her shoulder. There was no bra strap underneath, just warm, silky skin. Just as he’d thought.

Settling his hands at her narrow waist, he pulled her close for a kiss—a slow, lazy nuzzling that took its sweet time to travel from her jaw to her throat to her mouth. When he got there, she was ready, opening to him, welcoming him. His tongue stroked hers, searched here and there, tasted, savored, fed, and she responded so sweetly, with her breath growing uneven, her fingers curling over the waistband of his shorts, her body rubbing sensuously against his.

He trailed his kisses to her jaw, down her throat, following bare skin to the V of the vest. Fumbling, teasing, tormenting, he worked the first button free, then kissed the skin revealed while repeating the process with the next button. By the time the vest hung open, exposing her, he was hard and she was weak. Her head hung back, presenting him with a long, tantalizing expanse, from chin to waist, of pale, warm skin, full breasts, swollen nipples. The sight was beautiful, enticing, erotic.