Meant To Be (22 page)

"Muriel?"

"Hmmm?” Her hand stilled and she lifted her head to meet his gaze.

He cleared his throat twice—something he only did when he was especially nervous—and said, “I realize we haven't been dating that long, and, well, I'm not exactly sure of the protocol, but...” another throat clearing, and Muriel reached up to stroke his beloved whiskery face. Luke smiled and his eyes grew smoky with renewed desire. “I love you."

"Oh, Luke,” Muriel threw her arms around his neck and squeezed her eyes shut to stem the flood of tears threatening to spill. “I love you, too. You've made me happier than I ever thought possible."

"Well, now, I'm not normally a betting man, but I think I can kick happy up a notch to delirious.” He started kneading the soft flesh of her backside, and she nipped at his ear in return.

"There's not a doubt in my mind. But first, I have a proposition for you. Interested?"

"You know I am.” He pressed the proof of his interest against her thigh.

She giggled. “Not what I had in mind, although that's a given. Luke? How would you feel about moving in with me? I know we haven't been seeing each other very long, but ... I don't know ... it just feels right."

Luke tipped her face up and kissed her, a slow, lingering kiss that left her hungry for more. “Honey, I'd run home and pack my bags right now, ‘cept I'm pretty sure I couldn't run in my condition."

Muriel laughed. “As much fun as that would be to watch, I don't plan to let you leave this bed anytime soon."

And Muriel was a woman of her word.

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"I'm so glad you decided to come home."

Jessica forced a smile as her mother poured her a second cup of coffee. She glanced around the kitchen, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of home. The butter-yellow painted walls; her mother's collection of teapots, which graced every spare inch of space on her shelves and cupboards; the Last Supper picture which hung above the cherry antique pie safe her mother cherished.

"I never should've left."

Her mother reached across the table to grasp her hand. “I'm just grateful you're safe. I always knew Wade was a good-for-nothing bum, but I had no idea his brother was so unbalanced. Poor Lita."

Jessica silently concurred. She knew exactly how it felt to bury a son. Wade's mother, a good woman who'd unfortunately raised two bad seeds, didn't deserve the heartache she was suffering right now—burying one son, while her other faced a second prison term.

"He won't say it, but your father is happy you're home too."

Jessica cocked a brow. She knew her father loved her, but their relationship had been strained since the day he discovered she'd been a stripper. And what made it worse was the way he'd found out; he and his bowling buddies had walked in on her act. Frankly, she thought his attitude a bit hypocritical considering. But he was her father, after all, so she'd kept her mouth shut while he'd read her the riot act.

"Mom, I'll need to earn a paycheck while I'm here. Can I have my old job back, or have you already replaced me?” Jessica reached across the table for one of the fresh gingersnaps that were a specialty in her parents’ coffee shop.

"While you're here? Please tell me you're not considering going back. I couldn't take it if—"

"Relax, Mom. I meant here in your home. I'll want to move into my own place soon."

The thought of never seeing Garrett's handsome face again was unbearable. She wanted him, needed him ... loved him. God, how she loved him. If only she'd met him before Wade ... No, then she wouldn't have had her son, and she couldn't imagine her life without Marky in it, even if for such a short time.

She lifted the gingersnap to her lips, but the spicy-sweet smell didn't mingle well with her stomach, and a wave of nausea caught her by surprise. She set the cookie on her saucer and swallowed hard.

"Jessie?” Her mother leaned forward and peered at her with those keen eyes. “You don't look so good. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, just tired. It was a long drive."

"You should've flown. It's a miracle that hunk-a-junk made it here."

Jessica couldn't hold back a small grin. “Are you insulting my truck?"

With a roll of her eyes, her mother rose from the table and carried her cup to the sink. “That truck—and I use the term loosely—should have gone to the big junkyard in the sky years ago."

Before Jessica could respond, the back door opened and her father stepped into the kitchen. It felt as if all the air got sucked out of the room, and she struggled to take a breath. “Hi, Daddy."

"Thought I recognized that accident on wheels."

A surprisingly uncertain smile lifted the corners of Ed McGovern's mouth, and Jessica was caught off guard by a flood of emotion. Tears burned the backs of her eyes and her lips quivered. Damn, when had she become such an emotional basket case?

"Jessica, give your father a kiss. Ed, can I make you a sandwich? I picked up some nice rare roast beef and crusty hard rolls from the deli."

He walked over and held out his arms. Jessica flew into them with a relieved sob. Things had been strained between them for the past couple of years, and it was such a comfort to have her daddy back again. The one who didn't judge her, or make her feel lower than dirt.

"It's good to have you home, kitten.” He kissed her on the forehead, then took the seat beside her. “A roast beef sandwich sounds great, Mare, thanks.” He reached out and chucked Jessica under the chin. “Join me?"

Jessica's stomach flipped at the thought. “Thanks, but I think I'll go take a nap. I'm beat."

"You should've flown,” he gently admonished her.

"So I've been told.” She rose to her feet. “But then I would've had to leave Mr. Louie in Green Bay, and there's no way I could've done that."

Her father glanced around in feigned dismay. “I almost forgot about that mountain lion you call a cat. Mare, make sure that thing doesn't steal my sandwich."

"I'll protect it with my life,” her mother said with a playful roll of her eyes. She walked over and set his plate on the table earning a wink and pat on the backside.

It was Jessica's turn to roll her eyes. “Well, that's my cue. See you at supper."

"Son, you have to go after her."

"Like hell.” Garrett didn't spare his uncle even a quick glance.

"Look,” Uncle Luke's exasperation was evident, “we all do things sometimes we're not proud of, but—"

Garrett shot to his feet and tossed the hammer aside. He'd been putting the finishing touches on Ethan's doghouse when Uncle Luke approached. Christ, why couldn't they all just leave him the hell alone?

"How can you even defend her after what she did? Why can't any of you look at this from my point of view?” He stormed into the house and headed for the fridge. Uncle Luke followed him inside.

"Because we love you. And you love her, even if you're too pig-headed to admit it."

"Hmmph.” Garrett poured himself a glass of iced tea, then leaned back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles as he eyed the black clouds rolling in. He wanted to get that doghouse finished before the storm hit. Mike and Sara planned to take Ethan to the Humane Society tomorrow to pick out a puppy and—

"Ignoring me isn't going to make this go away. You deserve to be happy, son, and that girl makes you happy. So she ... danced for a little while. I'm sure she had a good reason, like keeping a roof over her and her son's head and food in their bellies. And a minimum wage job just don't—"

"What the hell are you talking about? You think I'm pissed off because she was a stripper?” He pushed to the back of his mind the fact that his own unknowing comment weeks ago was probably the reason she'd never confided in him about her past profession.

Uncle Luke's brow furrowed. “What else?"

Garrett straightened and set his glass on the counter with more force than necessary. “How about the fact that she left town without so much as a goodbye? I sat in a jail cell for three nights, and she never even stopped in to see me, to let me know she was all right."

"Hell, she was devastated. And no doubt shamed out of her skin. That ex of hers not only wreaked havoc on all of us, he ripped open wounds of hers that were still fresh. His brother damn near raped Muriel, he shot at Ethan. And I don't need to remind you who took the bullet for him."

With a muttered curse, Garrett swiped up his iced tea and gulped half of it down.

Uncle Luke strode across the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at the table and added, “If it's your pride holding you back, then get over it. We're all human, son, we don't always make the best decisions. Just look at all the time Sara and Mike lost."

Garrett exhaled a heavy sigh. “Look, I know you mean well, but it's time to face facts. Jessica and I just weren't meant to be. I know it, she knows it, and I think deep down, you know it too."

Uncle Luke gave his head a sad shake. “The only thing I know for sure is you're making the biggest mistake of your life."

"Glad to see you got your appetite back."

Jessica scooped a second helping of her mother's baked chicken and rice casserole onto her plate, then snitched a third corn muffin from the napkin-lined basket and slathered it with butter. “What can I say? I've missed your cooking.” Jessica suspected it was more than that, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. She had at least a couple more months before her mother's eagle eye outed her.

"You've loved this dish since you were a little girl."

Jessica looked up and caught her parents sharing an odd glance. Her heart skipped a beat and her hand paused halfway to her mouth. My God, did they already suspect her secret?
Calm down
, she silently scolded herself. They couldn't possibly know. Heck,
she
didn't even know for sure. It was just a gut feeling she had. Well, that and the fact she could barely stand the smell of her favorite cookies. With Marky, it had been her fabric softener, and she'd had to switch brands until her third trimester.

She happened to catch another strange look pass between her parents and decided enough was enough. She set her fork down with a clink. “All right, what is it?"

Her mother's wide-eyed innocent look was less than convincing. Her father's reluctance to speak was just as telling.

"I'm a big girl, you know. I can handle whatever it is."

Her father raked his fingers through his hair, then started drumming them on the table.

Her mother frowned, and he stopped. They both waited for the other to speak. Finally, her mother said, “Lita stopped by while you were resting."

Jessica closed her eyes and rubbed them with her thumb and forefinger. No way was she ready to face her ex-mother-in-law. Lita Hastings had treated Jessica well at one time, but there'd certainly been hard feelings after Wade went to prison. Jessica hadn't spoken on his behalf at the sentencing trial, and she knew Lita probably hadn't forgiven her. Not completely anyway. And now here he was, facing prison time again while his brother lay in the cold ground.

"What did she want?"

With a disgusted shake of his head, her father continued eating his supper.

"She ... she doesn't want you to testify against Wade. She said you've cost her enough, and owe her at least that much."

Jessica stared at her mother, willing back the tears. As a mother herself, Jessica couldn't blame Lita for wanting to save her one remaining child from more prison time. But how could she do that to Garrett? He'd also been through the wringer because of her. The dull throbbing in her side reminded her of just how much more he could have lost ... because of her.

My God, she was a jinx. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, then another.

With a muttered curse, her father tossed down his fork, which clattered off his plate and onto the linoleum floor. “Nothing that happened was your fault, do you hear me? You moved halfway across the country to start a new life, and that nutjob chased after you. You have no control over what other people do. And you
will
testify against him. He should've never been let out in the first place, that irresponsible, son of a—"

"Ed, please,” her mother cried. “The last thing she needs in her condition is you hollering at her."

Startled, Jessica's gaze flew to her mother's face. Mary McGovern composed herself, cleared her throat and amended, “It's barely been a month since she was shot."

Her father scowled, took a deep breath, then gulped back the rest of his soda. “I think I'll run down to the shop, get the inventory started."

As soon as the door slammed behind him, her mother said, “I agree with him, you know. I feel for Lita, I truly do, but if Wade goes free, you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life."

Jessica swiped at her eyes. Of course, her parents were right. What kind of life would she have if she was constantly waiting for Wade to show up and turn her world upside down—again? Not to mention the guilt that would eat at her soul if she let him get away with what he'd done. Lyle may have been the one who attacked Muriel, held a gun to Ethan's head, and shot her, but Wade was just as guilty as if he'd pulled the trigger himself.

He'd stolen an estimated eight hundred and sixty thousand dollars worth of diamond rings from Lennox Jewelers, too. Jessica still couldn't quite believe that one. She remembered the news stories, remembered the rings had never been recovered and no suspects ever found. But never in a million years would Jessica have suspected her own husband and his bumbling brother had been responsible.

And Wade no doubt expected her to be his alibi, to swear Lyle had been solely responsible for stealing the rings. Jessica glanced into the living room to the eight by ten photograph that hung above her parents wedding picture. Marky, grinning into the camera, blue eyes so full of life, his little bear clutched in his fist, as always. With complete clarity, Jessica knew she had no choice. Wade wouldn't walk away with a slap on the wrist this time.