Texas! Lucky (23 page)

Sage gave a raucous, unladylike hoot. Lucky guffawed. "Don't look now, big brother, but you just dropped a gooey bite of pudding into your lap."

Chase, gaping at his wife, lowered his empty spoon back into his dessert plate. "You … you mean it? You're sure?"

Gleefully Tanya bobbed her head up and down. "You're going to be a daddy."

* * *

Having reached the white wooden fence that enclosed the peach orchard, Devon rested her forearms on the top rung and took a deep, cleansing breath. Lucky stood beside her. It was the first moment they'd had alone since Chase had brought him back from town. Following Tanya's announcement, everybody had started firing questions at once, which she fielded with poise.

No, she wasn't very far along, but the pregnancy had been positively confirmed. Yes, she was feeling quite well, thank you. No, she hadn't had any morning sickness yet.

Yes, she was due around the first of the year.

No, the doctor didn't expect any difficulties. Discussion of the baby had prolonged dinner. Finally Laurie had stood to clear the table, shooing Devon and Lucky out. The evening was close and warm, the air heavy with humidity and the heady, fertile scents of spring.

Turning her head toward Lucky, Devon asked, "Did you know?"

"What? About Tanya?" He shook his head. "No. But it didn't really surprise me. They've made no secret of wanting kids. It was just a matter of time. I'm glad she chose tonight to announce it."

The top railing of the fence caught him in the middle of his back as he leaned against and turned to face her. There was a soft breeze blowing, lifting strands of burnished hair out of her restrictive bun. Sage had loaned her some clothes. She had traded her business suit for a casual, long-skirted jumper worn over a T-shirt. She was making it tough on him to decide which way he liked her best. Whether soft or sophisticated, she always looked terrific.

"Your mother is really something," she was saying. "She's strong and yet compassionate. A rare combination."

"Thanks. I think she's special too. I was afraid you'd think the Tylers are all a little crazy. Picking fights one minute. Crying over a coming baby the next."

She plucked a leaf off the nearest peach tree and began to pull it through her fingers. "No, it's nice, the closeness you share."

"You didn't have a close family?"

"Not really. Just my parents and me. No brothers or sisters."

Lucky couldn't imagine such a thing and said so. "Chase and I used to fight like cats and dogs. Still do sometimes. But we're best friends, too, and would do anything for each other."

"That's obvious. I remember the look on his face when he came charging through the door of that interrogation room."

Enough time had elapsed that they could smile about it now. Lucky was the first to turn serious again. "I thought the family bonds might weaken after Dad died. Instead, they're stronger than ever. Mother's held us together admirably."

"Tell me about him."

"My dad? He was strict, but fair. All us kids knew we were loved. He spoiled us and spanked us equally, I guess you could say. To him there were no gray areas where honesty and integrity are concerned. We knew he loved God, his country, and our mother. He was openly affectionate with her, and always respectful."

"So it stands to reason that his son would leap to the defense of a woman in distress."

He gave her a self-deprecating grin and a slight shrug. "Conditioned reflex." Reaching out, he caught a loose strand of her hair and rubbed it between his finger. "What was life like for Devon Haines when she was a little girl?"

"Lonely at times." Her expression became introspective. "Unlike your father, mine wasn't a very warm and giving person. In fact, he was demanding. My mother fetched and carried for him from the moment she said 'I do' until the day he died. Their roles were rigidly defined. He was the domineering breadwinner; she was the obedient good little wife. She spent her days keeping his castle spotless, and her evenings waiting on him hand and foot."

"Hmm. Is that why their little girl turned out to be such a militant feminist?"

"I'm not militant."

Lucky raised his hands in surrender. "I'm unarmed."

"I'm sorry," she said with chagrin. "Maybe I am a trifle defensive."

"That's okay." Then, bending down closer to her, he whispered, "If your eyes keep flashing green fire like that, I'm gonna have to kiss you." He said it teasingly, but his eyes conveyed the message that he meant it.

Devon looked away to stare down the neat, straight row of carefully cultivated peach trees. Their branches were already burdened with unripened fruit.

"My mother's whole life revolved around my father. When he died, she was left with nothing to live for."

"What about you?"

"I guess I didn't really count."

"That rejection must have hurt."

"It did." She sighed. "Two miserable years after my father's death, she died too."

"How?"

The ground beneath them held her attention for a moment. When she began speaking, her voice was thick. "For as long as I can remember, my mother was a hypochondriac. She constantly complained of minor aches and pains. They kept her from attending functions throughout my schooling. I couldn't have friends over because she felt bad. That kind of thing."

Lucky muttered something unflattering about the late Mrs. Haines, but Devon shook her head. "I guess the hypochondria was her only means of getting attention from my father. Anyway, I learned early on to dismiss mother's 'illnesses.'

"After my father died, they increased in frequency and severity. Because her life had been so wrapped up in his, she had nothing to occupy her mind except her own body and its many failings. I was just out of college, scrambling to find a job that would subsidize her pension. Frankly, hearing about each stabbing pain and dull ache drove me crazy. I tuned her out as much as possible." She pinched off a piece of the leaf and tossed it into the wind.

"She began to claim that the pains were getting worse. The more she complained about her discomfort, the more stubbornly I ignored her. I thought that honoring the hypochondria would only encourage it."

She rolled her lips inward and pressed on them so hard that the rims turned white.

Lucky saw the tears collecting in her eyes. He took her hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

"One day Mother said she was having difficulty in swallowing. She couldn't eat. Everything I gave her came right back up. I … I relented and took her to see the doctor." Unable to go on, she pulled her hand from his and covered her face with both hands.

He rubbed her between the shoulder blades. "What happened, Devon?" Instinctively he knew that she had never talked about this with anyone. He was flattered, but it hurt him to see her in such emotional distress.

She pulled in a choppy breath and lowered her hands. "She was dead within two weeks. Inoperable stomach cancer."

"Oh, damn."

She took a clean tissue from the pocket of the jumper and blotted her eyes and nose. Her pretty features were etched with misery and guilt.

"You couldn't have known," he said softly.

"I should have."

"Not based on your past experience."

"I should have listened to her. I should have done something."

"The result would probably have been the same, Devon." His father had died of cancer after fighting it for months.

"Yes, probably," Devon said. "But if I hadn't disregarded her, she wouldn't have suffered. I turned my back on her at a time when she needed someone to believe her."

"From what you said, she had turned her back on you first."

She dusted her hands of the leaf she had shredded. "We weren't tuned in to each other the way you Tylers are. So I can't relate to the camaraderie your family shares, but I think the way you rally together is enviable."

He sensed that the topic of her mother's death was now closed. He wouldn't press. She had opened up to him. It had been too brief a glimpse into Devon's psyche, but he coveted information about her.

He matched her more lighthearted tone. "You don't think we're loud, boisterous, and overwhelming?"

She laughed softly. "A little, perhaps."

"Yeah, we can get pretty rambunctious."

"But it must be nice, knowing you have someone you can count on to stand up for you, no matter what."

"You don't?" He caught her beneath the chin with his fingertip and turned her head to face him. "What about your husband?"

"He's not in a position to rally to my aid now, is he?"

"What if he were in a position to? Would he?"

She lifted her chin off the perch of his finger and turned away again. Lucky dropped his arm to his side. The emotional turmoil on her face was plain. He hated to think he was the one responsible for it.

"You'll have to tell him about us now, won't you?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Devon. I had hoped to prevent that." If he had hoped it badly enough, he would have left her alone, he thought wryly. He wouldn't have asked her to come to Milton Point and counter Susan's lie with the truth. But thinking primarily of himself, he had coerced her to come. He was confident of acquittal; Devon, however, would suffer permanent consequences. "When will you see him?"

"Tomorrow. I don't want him to hear about it from someone else before I've had a chance to explain. That's why I accepted your mother's invitation to spend the night here. Since I'm this close to the prison, it would be silly to drive back to Dallas, only to have to return to East Texas in the morning."

Lucky wasn't as interested in the logistics of travel as he was in what form her explanation would take. "What are you going to say to him?"

Ruefully she shook her head. "I don't know yet."

"What are you going to tell him about me?"

"As little as possible."

"Are you going to tell him how we met?"

"I suppose that'll be a start."

"About Little Alvin, Jack Ed, the fight?"

"I suppose."

"You'll explain why you were in the place."

"He'll understand that part."

"But not the rest. What'll you tell him about the motel?"

"I don't know," she admitted with increasing impatience.

"Well, you'd better think of something."

She turned on him with agitation. "Tell me, Lucky, what should I say? What can I say? What words could possibly make this situation easier for him to accept, hmm? Put yourself in his place. He's in prison. How would you react if your roles were reversed? How would you feel if I were your wife and had slept with another man?"

He reached for her and pulled her against him, snarling, "If you were my wife, you wouldn't have slept with another man."

She deflected his kiss. "Don't." He could tell by her tone that she wasn't being coy. He gazed into her eyes. "Don't," she repeated firmly. "Let me go."

He relaxed his embrace; she stepped out of it. "For reasons I can't comprehend, your family has been cordial to me when all I deserve from them is scorn and contempt. I expected to be shunned like a woman of the streets. Instead, they've been inordinately kind. I won't betray their consideration by playing your tramp."

His body was pulled taut, as though he were held back by an invisible leash. "You're not a tramp," he said meaningfully. "I never thought of you that way. I never treated you that way. Didn't I nearly throttle someone today for suggesting that you were?"

Suddenly she ducked her head, and he thought it might be because of the tears that had filled her eyes. "So far," she said in a low, stirring voice, "I've got only one sin to confess to my husband. Please don't make it any worse, Lucky."

"That's the first time you've called me by name," he murmured, taking a step nearer. "That's a beginning."

She raised her head. Their eyes met and held. Eventually she moistened her lips, pulled the lower one through her teeth, and whispered, "We aren't allowed a beginning." Having said that, she turned and headed for the house.

"My, my. Wonders never cease."

At the sound of his sister's voice, Lucky angrily spun around. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

Sage stepped from behind one of the peach trees. "There's actually a woman who can say no to Lucky Tyler. My faith in womankind has been restored."

"Shut up, brat," he grumbled. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to set my heart to palpitating."

"Why were you spying on us?"

"I wasn't. Mother sent me out to tell you that Chase and Tanya are leaving. She thought you'd want to say congratulations one more time. I sensed the nature of your conversation, and decided it would be imprudent to interrupt."

"So you eavesdropped."

Unfazed, she fell into step beside her brother as he stamped toward the house.

"Poor Lucky," she sighed theatrically. "He finally finds a woman he really wants, and she turns out to have the loathsome three."