The Lawman's Little Surprise (6 page)

“Does a baby really need all this?” he asked, as they stood surrounded by bright colors in one of the large department stores.

“No, of course not,” Trish answered. “And not at first.”

He touched a fuzzy bunny hanging from the top of a crib. “Does this stuff really do anything?”

“It's stimulating.” Her voice held all the patience in the world, and he paid attention while she explained. “At first they only see in shades of black and white, and then only six inches from their face. Colors and distance come along soon after.”

“When do they start talking?”

“Not for a long time,” she said, laughing.

It did his heart good to hear the sound of it. He'd missed it while she was gone. He'd missed it since she'd come home. If only things could be different.

So lost in thought that he hadn't noticed her move away, he wandered in the direction of where she was looking at a small cradle and talking with one of the
salesclerks. Instead of joining her, something caught his eye, and he pulled a tiny football jersey from the rack.

“Cute, isn't it?”

He looked up to see a different salesclerk than the woman Trish was still talking to. “Yeah, it is.”

“Is this for someone you know?”

“Not yet.”

Her eyebrows went up slightly, but her smile remained. “Not here yet? I see. When is the baby due?”

“July,” he answered. At least that's what Doc Priller had told them. Digging in his back pocket for his wallet, he checked to make sure Trish was still busy. “I'll take it,” he told the clerk.

“I'll ring you up over there.” She pointed to a counter and he followed her.

He paid for the item quickly, and Trish joined him just as the clerk handed him the sack.

“What did you buy?”

“Something.”

“Well, of course it's something. What?”

“I'll show you when it's time.” Taking her gently by the arm, he led her away.

“Just let me see,” Trish insisted.

“Not now.”

She hurried quickly beside him as he steered them through the store and out into the wide-open hallway of the mall. “Then can we go for that lunch? I'm starving.”

He felt the smile coming on. “Me, too.” Taking her arm, he guided her toward the exit, pleased that their shopping trip had turned out so well.

 

“B
UT WHAT IF IT
isn't a boy?” Trish asked.

They were sitting at a small table in the restaurant
Stu had recommended, the soft murmur of the conversations of other diners all around them. It had taken some wheedling, but Trish had managed to get Morgan to show her what he'd bought in the baby department of the store. The tiny football jersey was adorable. She only hoped he wouldn't go overboard on buying things.

“Girls wear jerseys, too,” he said before taking a sip of water. “Including—and especially—your sister.”

She studied him for signs of his usual stubbornness and saw none. “Just so you don't have your hopes up.”

“Don't worry about it.”

Oh, but she would, right along with whether he would ever tell her the truth about canceling their wedding.

Filled to the brim with an excellent meal, she set her fork on her plate, dabbed the cloth napkin on her lips and leaned back in her chair to study the man she had not so long ago been engaged to. “Did you play football in school?”

“I did.” He tossed his napkin to the table, but didn't look at her.

His answer surprised her. “Really? In all these years I've known you, I've never heard you mention it.”

“The subject never came up.”

“One more thing I didn't know about you. I mean, I know you enjoy watching football, but I never knew you'd actually played. What position?”

He looked up and stared at her across the table. “Tight end. Do you know what that means?”

She smiled as sweetly as possible. “I'm not completely clueless about sports.”

“You don't. But that's okay,” he hurried to say before she could defend herself. “There's no reason you
should. And you can learn. If there should be a reason, that is.”

She was fascinated with this. Morgan had never offered much information about himself. Not the little things, anyway. She knew he had an older sister and both a niece and a nephew. He'd grown up near Miami and had always wanted to be a cop like his grandfather. He'd had, he'd often told her, a happy childhood. Nothing out of the ordinary. She was eager to learn more.

“Were you good?”

He reached for the napkin and began to fold it. “All State my senior year.”

“Wow.”

“It was a long time ago, Trish.” He didn't look at her. “Kid stuff.”

“Our childhoods are what make us who we are today,” she reminded him.

He finally met her gaze across the table. “I expect our child to have the best childhood that can be had.”

“All parents do.”

“I'll make sure of it. I want him or her to always feel safe,” he continued as if she hadn't spoken. “That's the way it should be.”

The intensity in his eyes nearly frightened her. What could have happened to have brought this on? Morgan always took things very seriously, the complete opposite of her brother-in-law. Dusty was always joking and kidding, but Kate made a point to assure Trish he had a more serious side. Morgan was totally different. It took a lot for him to loosen up. He could be very charming when he needed to be and joked with close friends. Of anyone in Desperation, except for Hettie and his uncle Ernie, she was probably the only other person who had
seen the real Morgan. Usually that thought made her smile, but today it didn't. How much
didn't
she know?

“There's something I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

His voice brought her out of her thoughts and she focused on him, wondering what else was bothering him.

“What would you think about switching doctors?”

“What?” She looked around the room as if someone else had made the suggestion. “What makes you ask that?”

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms on his chest. “It just seems that Doc Priller is…” He shook his head. “I'm not saying this very well.”

She had no idea what he was getting at, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it. “I'd help, but I don't know where you're going with this.”

“He's old, Trish.”

“Well, of course he is,” she said, her lips suddenly feeling stiff. “With age comes experience, and Doc has lots and lots of that.”

“This is just another baby to him.”

She stared at him, wondering if he'd lost his mind. “I bet there isn't one single baby that he's delivered in all his years that hasn't been special to him.”

“He still worries me.”

She couldn't believe he was doing this, but she tried to remain calm. She usually appreciated Morgan's knowledge and opinions, but this was not one of those times. “Do you have someone else in mind?”

He shook his head. “No, nobody that I know of, but I'm sure we could get some recommendations. I know some of the other sheriffs in the area. They might have
some suggestions. I doubt all their wives had babies delivered by Doc Priller.”

She was speechless and could only stare at him as her anger grew.

“An obstetrician here in Oklahoma City might be the best thing we could do,” he continued. “You should think about it, before you get too tied into Doc.”

“I don't need to think about it,” she said as slowly and evenly as possible. She didn't want to ever have this conversation again. “I'm the one who's pregnant. I'm the one who's tired, whose ankles may swell to twice their size, who may yet have to deal with morning sickness. And afterward, I'm the one who'll be up for middle-of-the-night feedings.”

“Yes—”

“And I say I'm just fine with Doc Priller. In fact, I wouldn't want any other doctor taking care of me and delivering this baby.” She took a breath. “Is that clear?”

“As a bell.”

“Good.” She shoved her chair back. “Then take me home.”

He got to his feet and started around the table to help her, but she was already out of her seat and heading for the exit. “I'll bring the car around while you take care of the bill,” she told him over her shoulder. Somebody had to be sensible.

The big, ancient stone barn behind the Commune had been converted into a community room for the use of not only those who lived at the Shadydrive Retirement Home, but anyone needing the space. The barn, which had once housed the Ravenel livestock after it was built in the early 1800s, had withstood the ravages of time as well if not better than the house had.

Tables littered the perimeter of the huge cavern of a room, where everyone waited to welcome in the new year. Champagne was at the ready as time grew nearer.

“How long?” Aggie asked.

Morgan stopped in his tracks on his way to get drink refills and turned back to look at her. “You asked that barely five minutes ago.”

Trish, whose attention was on the dancers on the floor, turned to her aunt. “Until midnight? Less than an hour.”

Aggie leaned across the table toward her niece, her features menacing. “That's what you said the last time I asked.”

Trish leaned back in her chair, a sure sign that she wasn't willing to tangle with her aunt. “About forty minutes.”

“That long?”

“Now, Aggie—” Hettie began.

“You know how I am about New Year's Eve, Hettie,” Aggie said, leaning back in her chair again.

“We were eighteen,” Hettie replied. “A long time ago. Let's focus on the here and now. I'm enjoying this evening tremendously.”

Just as Morgan was about to turn for the bar again, Trish spoke. “What was so special about New Year's Eve when you were eighteen?”

“Just that we were finally adults,” Aggie answered, “and on our own for the first time in our lives.”

Morgan was more concerned with the here and now. “Do you want refills or not? I have to leave in about ten minutes.”

Hettie turned in her chair to face him. “Leave? So close to the countdown?”

“I explained earlier,” he reminded her patiently. “I'm on duty tonight. So is Stu. We're taking turns making sure there's no mischief going on.”

“But—”

“I'll be back before midnight.”

“Damn poor time to be a sheriff,” Aggie commented. “Maybe you need to hire another deputy. Seems one of the two of you is always missing something.”

Morgan shrugged. “That's the way it is. Somebody has to keep an eye on things.” Glancing at Trish, he saw that her attention was once again on the couples dancing. He'd considered asking her for a dance earlier, but he knew she didn't want tongues wagging. He decided he wasn't going to get into an argument with her about that. Not tonight.

“Pssst.”

Turning, Morgan saw Aggie looking at him and pointing toward the bar. “You better get a move on or you won't get out of here and back in time for the big blast.”

With a quick nod, he hurried to finish his refill mission before leaving. “Hey, Ernie,” he greeted his uncle, who took the empty glasses from him. “Why don't you let one of the other guys tend bar so you can enjoy the party?”

“I enjoy
this,
” Ernie answered, filling the empties and handing them back. “I get to see everybody who's here and talk to most of them when they need a drink.” He handed Morgan the last filled glass. “I see you and the Claybornes are enjoying the evening. How're things going with that?”

Guilt hit Morgan and he ducked his head to gather his thoughts. He hadn't told Ernie yet about Trish being pregnant. “Hard to avoid people you know well,” he answered, raising his glass-filled hands. “Thanks.”

He turned to find Desperation's city attorney headed his way. He'd liked Garrett Miles the moment he'd met him two years before, and he'd hounded the city council to hire the man. No one had been disappointed.

“Here, let me give you a hand,” Garrett said, stepping up to take two of the glasses Morgan held.

“Thanks. Slopping drinks on the uniform might be frowned on by the councilmen, if not the mayor.”

Garrett laughed and followed Morgan to the table where the others waited. “It'll wash.”

They reached the table and passed out the refilled drinks to the ladies. Hettie took the glass Morgan indicated was hers. “Nice to see you here, Mr. Miles,” she said. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much,” Garrett answered, and then turned. “Hello, Mr. Mayor,” he said as the man approached. “Happy New Year.”

“Almost, my boy, almost.” The mayor turned to Morgan. “Stu keeping an eye on things?”

“I'm about to leave to make a pass through town. Stu says everything is quiet, except for a few firecracker pops from the Grady place.”

“Those kids are always up to something,” the mayor joked. Placing a hand on Hettie's shoulder, he leaned down. “Stop by and see Margaret. She's almost mended from the surgery, but she needs a little company.”

Hettie patted his hand. “I'll be happy to do that as soon as I get back from the cruise. You know that Aggie and I are leaving tomorrow, don't you?”

Morgan quickly glanced at his watch and didn't hear the mayor's response. He needed to be on his way. With an even quicker goodbye to the group, he hurried out to his cruiser.

Silently swearing at the way guests had parked, giving him little room to leave the makeshift parking area, Morgan was finally on his way. The town was peacefully quiet on the end-of-the-year night, and he was glad he wouldn't have to do more than drive through, checking on the places that had, in the past, been known to be trouble on such nights.

Grabbing the radio mic, he called to Stu. “Any problems?”

The radio crackled with static, as it always did, but Stu's voice was clear. “The Gradys are getting ready to set things off. I helped them make sure the garden hose was hooked up and good to go, just in case a stray cinder caused a problem.”

“As damp as it's been this week, I doubt there'll be a problem with the grass, but it's good they're being careful. Head on out to the barn,” Morgan told him. “I'll take care of it here and see you back at the party.”

Stu thanked him, and Morgan swept down the streets, checking dark areas for movement. He even stopped by the Gradys' and wished them luck. The whole block where they lived was filling with people, eager to see the fireworks show. From past experience, Morgan knew it would be small, with only a few aerials, but neighbors loved it and so did the Gradys. Even the council turned a blind eye to the small event that bordered on illegal, according to city code.

“Hi, Morgan,” Mikey Grady said, tugging on Morgan's sleeve.

Hunkering down to the six-year-old boy's level, he smiled. “Looks like you're going to have a humdinger of a show tonight.”

Mikey nodded and smiled, showing off one missing tooth.

“You all be careful,” he added, standing. “And have fun.”

After another nod from Mikey, Morgan climbed into his cruiser and started back for the party, with only minutes to spare. At some point before the night was over, he hoped to talk to Trish about how he could help her.

 

“W
HERE
IS
THAT BOY
?” Hettie fretted. “He promised to be back before midnight. I don't want him missing out.”

“He'll be here,” Trish answered, pouring the cham
pagne from the bottle they shared into the glass flutes. Morgan always kept his word.
Except once.

“While we're waiting,” Hettie said, “there's something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Trish placed the bottle on the table. “What's that? And hadn't we better join the others?” She nodded in the direction of the other guests, gathering on the dance floor as they awaited the countdown to midnight. “And don't worry,” she continued, knowing exactly what Hettie was about to say. “He'll join us as soon as he gets here.”

Hettie didn't look convinced, but she glanced at Aggie and stood, picking up her glass. Aggie followed, and the three made their way to the center of the room. From around the dance floor, people shouted congratulations to Hettie and to Ernie for yet another wonderful party. Hettie would always be the hostess with the mostest in Desperation.

“Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?” Trish asked as they waited the final minutes.

“I'm concerned—make that Aggie and I are concerned about you staying alone out at the farm while we're away.”

Trish closed her eyes and counted to five. Hettie was worse than Aunt Aggie, always treating her like she was a child or as if she had no common sense at all. “I'll be fine,” she said, as unconcerned as possible, and proceeded to check out the crowd.

“You aren't used to staying alone,” Aggie pointed out.

Hettie nodded. “If you were to stay in town, I wouldn't give it another thought.”

Trish turned to look at her. “Yes, you would.”

“If there should be a power outage—”

“I can go into town and stay with a friend,” Trish finished. “I do have friends.”

Aggie wasn't to be dissuaded. “With Kate gone, I'll worry. If she was here, it would be different.”

Trish took it as a personal insult that her own aunt didn't think she could manage on her own. “Why?”

Hettie jumped in immediately. “Because anything could happen. We only want you to be safe so we don't worry.”

“So let me get this straight,” Trish said, doing the best she could to keep from raising her voice. “If it was Kate and me at the farm alone, all would be well. Yet I can't stay there alone.”

“It's the buddy system, dear,” Hettie explained.

And Trish was sorely missing her buddy, especially at that moment. Kate would know how to handle this. She'd simply put her foot down and tell them both to forget it. “I don't think so.”

“You don't think what?”

She turned at the sound of Morgan's voice. “I don't think they're being honest with me, that's what.” She would have planted her hands on her hips, as Kate often did, if it hadn't been for the glass of champagne in her hand.

Hettie looked at the clock. “Two minutes, Morgan! Don't you think that's cutting it a bit short?”

“I made it before midnight,” he answered, a mulish look on his face.

“Well, go get your champagne. It's on the table. And don't stop to talk to anyone, just get back here,” Hettie called to him as he walked away. She shook her head and sighed. “I just don't know what to do about him.”

“He was doing his job!” Trish cried.

Hettie backed up a step and stared at her. “My goodness, Trish. Maybe you shouldn't have that champagne, after all.”

She reached for the glass but Trish held it away. “I haven't had a drop of alcohol all evening, and you know it, Hettie.”

“Drink the whole thing if you want to,” Hettie replied. “But do consider what we've been talking about.”

Morgan, looking a little put out, joined them. “Consider what?”

Trish sighed. All she needed was Morgan siding with them. She was a big girl. She could take care of herself. Why did they have to treat her like she couldn't? She was twenty-seven years old, and it was high time she took control of her life.

“Aggie and I would like Trish to stay at my place while we're gone,” Hettie explained, casting a glance at Trish as if in warning.

Trish lifted her chin and squared her shoulders to show she wasn't budging.

“We're only concerned that she'll be at the farm by herself,” Aggie added. “If Kate was home it would be different.”

“I can take care of myself,” Trish insisted.

Hettie opened her mouth to say something, but was drowned out by revelers. “Happy New Year!” the crowd around them shouted.

Aggie looked at Hettie. “We missed it.”

“We'll survive,” Hettie replied.

Aggie drank her glass of champagne in one long swallow. “You don't suppose the ship will sink, do you?”

“Heavens, no!” Hettie cried. Leaning close to Trish,
Hettie put a hand on her arm. “Maybe you'll reconsider the offer?”

Staring at her, Trish opened her mouth to answer. “You two are—” she began, but she clamped her mouth shut before she said
nuts.
She also quickly reconsidered the situation. Neither of them would give up, so she would have to offer a compromise. “No, but what I'll do is promise you that if anything goes wrong or if I find I don't like being on the farm alone, I'll come here to the Commune and move into your apartment until you both return.”

The worry on Hettie's face eased, and even Aggie looked a little more comfortable. “Yes. I think I can live with that,” Hettie said.

Morgan cleared his throat and moved closer. “I'll even make sure of it, Hettie. And Stu and I will keep an eye on her while you're both gone.”

Hettie patted his arm and smiled. “I couldn't ask for anything more. Thank you. I'll be able to leave without a qualm.” She glanced at Aggie. “Well, mostly.”

“Hang on,” Morgan said, and disappeared into the crowd around him. He reappeared several moments later with a new bottle of champagne. Once he'd popped the cork and they'd all been spewed, he refilled Aggie's glass and topped off the others. Holding his glass high, he looked at each one of them. “A toast.”

“A toast,” the others repeated, holding their glasses high.

“To a wonderful cruise for Aggie and Hettie, and the best year ever for us all.”

“To us all,” they said in unison and finished the toast by drinking the glasses dry. All but Trish, who only took a tiny sip.

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Right.”

When she started to move away, he touched her arm. Just that small gesture reminded her of what they'd had in the past. She looked down at his hand, and he pulled it away.

“Would it be out of the question to share a dance?” he asked.

Her immediate thought was to say no, but the set of his mouth and the way he didn't look directly at her made her reconsider. “People will talk,” she reminded him. He nodded and started to turn away. “But if it's just a dance between old friends,” she hurried to say, “I don't see any harm in it.”