Prim, Proper... Pregnant. Alice Sharpe

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      This was crazy. She needed to alert people. And she needed to prepare herself for Ryder’s true awakening when he was clear-headed enough to realize he didn’t want to rely on her of all people.

      And yet she stayed. For weeks she’d been sitting by this bed, spelling Jack and Nina and Philip after he returned from his honeymoon. She’d been here when they attended Rob’s funeral and when they dragged themselves home to try to sleep. She’d been here on days when the sun shined in the window and days when the rain outside echoed the sadness inside. And all the while, she’d told herself she would vanish the second Ryder opened his eyes, that she was anxious to get on the road and set up house in Nevada, to get ready for her baby, that she was here only to help his family.

      Now she realized that was only a partial truth. She was here for herself as well, for herself and for their baby. Just the night before, hoping to give Nina and Jack a ray of hope to cling to and knowing it was a miracle her condition had gone unnoticed this long, she had confided that she was carrying Ryder’s child. Her news had been met with unqualified joy.

      Had she done the right thing in telling them? Should she have kept it to herself? Had she told them because she was afraid Ryder would never wake up and claim his child? And now that the worst was seemingly over and it was time for her to leave, would it break their hearts?

      Well, soon Ryder would discover what she’d done and he would feel that she’d backed him into a corner, just as he’d predicted she would.

      And yet, she stayed, his hand loosely wrapped around her own. His summer tan had faded at an accelerated rate in the hospital, but she could still discern the faint whitish line across his ring finger. She leaned over and kissed his hand, not realizing until her lips touched his skin what a foolish act it was.

      But she had loved him once and he needed her now and he’d asked her to stay. Why?

      The door creaked and she turned her head as a stranger entered the room. He was a tall man in his late forties with a graying flattop and piercing black eyes. He wore a charcoal suit over his lanky frame and black shoes that needed polishing. The smile he gave Amelia looked forced and anything but friendly. There was an unmistakable air of officialdom about him.

      “May I help you?” she asked, thinking he must have entered the wrong room.

      “I’m looking for Ryder T. Hogan,” he said, his voice raspy. Gesturing at Ryder like he was a slab of meat, he added, “That him?”

      Unexpectedly, Amelia felt a surge of protective ardor. She positioned herself between the man and Ryder. “May I ask who you are?”

      He flipped aside his jacket. Fastened to the pocket on his pants was a metal badge. “Detective Hill,” he said. “Seaport Police.”

      “Ryder has been in a coma for two weeks,” she said, deciding on the spot to omit mentioning the fact that he’d been awake less than five minutes before. “Obviously, he can’t talk to you or anyone else.”

      “I’m investigating the death of Robert Hogan,” he said sternly. “I have questions that need answering.”

      She felt a piercing stab of fear burn its way through the lining of her stomach. She’d been waiting for this, she realized with a start. Ever since the accident, she’d been anticipating police involvement. Surely blood tests had been taken at the clinic where the brothers were taken after the accident. Surely the results of those blood tests would show that Ryder had been intoxicated.

      “When he wakes up, we’ll call you,” she said. Her voice sounded shaky and her knees felt wobbly. Why didn’t he leave? She added, “If you don’t believe me, ask his doctors. They’ll tell you he’s in no shape to talk to anyone.”

      “I spoke with his doctors,” he said. “I wanted to see for myself.”

      “And now you’ve seen,” she said, praying that Ryder wouldn’t choose that minute to open his eyes again.

      The detective looked at her closely. She had the feeling there were few secrets kept from his prying gaze and she could feel the heat suffuse her cheeks as she fought to keep hers. He finally said, “Who are you?”

      “Amelia Enderling. I’m…I’m Ryder’s fiancée.”

      He nodded as though he’d heard her name before. “Aren’t you more of an ex-fiancée?”

      “Where did you hear that?”

      Glancing at Ryder’s still face, he said, “I’ve talked to some of his friends.”

      “We made up. I guess his friends don’t know about it.”

      “I guess not. Well, Miss Enderling, are you aware that your boyfriend had been drinking when he took off with his brother on the night of the…accident?”

      There was a telling pause before the word “accident” that sent a chill through Amelia. She bit her lip and kept silent.

      “It’s common knowledge,” he added.

      She squared her shoulders. Her initial mistrust of him was becoming more and more pronounced. She finally said, “If you insist on holding a conversation despite what I’ve told you, maybe we should go out in the hall.”

      “Why?” he said, a smug smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “He’s in a coma, right? He can’t hear us.”

      “How do you know what he can or can’t hear?” she snapped. “Just because he’s in a coma doesn’t mean he’s not aware of his environment. Numerous studies have proved—”

      Hill interrupted. “It’s not you I want to talk to, it’s him.”

      She remained silent.

      “I’ll check back in a couple of days,” he said at last, delivering the message like a warning.

      Amelia sank down on the chair as the door closed behind Detective Hill, and she looked at Ryder’s face, so recently familiar again.

      What would happen to him when he discovered he was responsible for his brother’s death and that the police wanted to talk with him about it? The guilt alone would be devastating, for she earnestly believed that beneath Ryder’s selfishness was a decent core struggling to get out. And if he was convicted, there would go his life as he knew it.

      It wasn’t her problem. He would neither expect or desire her involvement, but in his current vulnerable state, it was hard to feel callous. And, too, there was Nina and Jack to consider—they’d lost Rob because Ryder had been irresponsible and reckless. What would happen if they now lost Ryder to the legal system?

      Rob. His death conjured so many emotions. Guilt that she’d told Ryder the big news about the baby when he had access to both liquor and a car. Anger that Ryder had survived a crash he was responsible for. More guilt for the anger because Ryder had not escaped without injury himself. And added to the mix, sadness that Rob, or at least what little she had known of him, would never be the uncle her baby needed, that she would never open the door and find him standing there with a stuffed bear in his arms.

      A noise at the door cut short her painful musings. She turned, expecting another go-round with Hill. Instead, she found herself facing Jack and Nina Hogan.

      “Thank СКАЧАТЬ