Lonergan's Secrets: Expecting Lonergan's Baby / Strictly Lonergan's Business / Satisfying Lonergan's Honour. Maureen Child

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СКАЧАТЬ He closed his eyes, sighed heavily, then opened them again to look at her. “I’m guessing from your reaction that you’re not on the Pill.”

      “No reason to be,” she said and slapped one hand to her abdomen as if she could somehow protect it belatedly. “I mean, until you—tonight—well, it’s been… a long time.”

      Oh, she really had been way too wrapped up in the heat of the moment. Her stomach did a slow swirl and dip as the ramifications of what they’d done hit home. They might have made a baby tonight.

      “Damn it.” He leaned over, grabbed his boots and straightened up again, his features tight, his eyes shuttered. “Stupid. I was stupid. Sorry doesn’t seem like enough.”

      “We were both stupid,” she reminded him. “I was there, too, so you don’t get to take the whole blame. It’s not as if you took advantage of me or something. I’m a grown-up and I make my own choices.”

      “Somehow that doesn’t make this any easier.”

      “Maybe not,” she said, “but this is just as much my fault as yours, so no point in wasting a perfectly good apology.”

      She tried to think. Tried to figure out where she was in her cycle. Then she gave it up because she’d never been good with math anyway. She crossed her fingers for luck and said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

      His eyes narrowed. “You’re sure.”

      “It was only the once.”

      “Twice.”

      “Right.” She blew out a breath and told herself not to panic. No point in panicking yet. She swallowed hard and nodded as if convincing herself as well as him. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

      “I hope you’re right,” he said, his gaze still narrowed and thoughtful on her. “But you’ll tell me. Either way.”

      “Of course,” she said. “There won’t be anything to tell, but if there is, I’ll tell you everything.”

      “Good. Good.” He nodded firmly, as if that settled the matter. “And just so you know, I’m healthy.”

      “Oh, I am, too,” she assured him and wished that sex in the twenty-first century could be a little less clinical and a little more fun. Although, they’d had fun and now look where they were.

      After that an awkward silence stretched out between them. An owl hooted in the distance, and with a push from the wind the lake lapped at the shoreline. Leaves rustled overhead, and from the next ranch came the sound of a barking dog, eerie in the darkness.

      “I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie,” he said suddenly, his voice hardly louder than the soft, papery rustle of the leaves.

      Her heart fisted in her chest and Maggie sensed him pulling even further away from her. There was misery in his eyes and a loneliness in his voice that tore at her.

      “What makes you think you will?”

      He shifted his gaze from her to the dark surface of the lake. He stared hard, and Maggie had the distinct impression that he was looking at the lake not as it was now but as it had been on a long-ago summer day. And almost to himself he said, “There’s just no other way.”

      Seven

      Over the next week Jeremiah sensed a change between Sam and Maggie. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was pretty sure there was more going on between them than they were saying. Every time one of them came into the room, the other one started getting jumpy.

      He was old.

      Not stupid.

      When his bedroom door opened, Jeremiah lay back against his pillows weakly, just in case. Sunlight lay across him in a slice of gold. He opened one eye, spotted his friend Bert and sat straight up. “About time you got here. Did you bring it?”

      Bert winced and closed the bedroom door with a quiet snick. “For God’s sake, keep it down. Yes, I brought it—and it’s the last time,” he added as he stalked toward the bed.

      Bert’s face was flushed, and guilt shone in his pale blue eyes so clearly it was easily readable even from behind the thick glasses he wore.

      “Now, Bert,” Jeremiah said, swinging his legs off the bed, “no reason to start losing your nerve now.”

      The other man set his black leather medical bag on the edge of the bed and gave the tarnished bronze clasp a quick twist. Then he delved one handed into the bag and pulled out a bottle of single-malt scotch. Scowling fiercely, he handed it over. “It isn’t about nerve, Jeremiah. It’s about what’s right. I don’t like lying to Sam.”

      Frowning himself, Jeremiah studied the bottle of scotch. “Well, come to it, neither do I. But I had to get them all home somehow.”

      “Yes, but he’s here now. Tell him the truth.”

      “Not yet.” Jeremiah shook his head and fought his own feelings of guilt. He didn’t like worrying his grandsons, but once they were all here, back where they belonged, he’d tell them the truth together. Resolve strengthened, he nodded firmly and asked, “Say, Bert, when you were downstairs, did you happen to notice anything between Sam and Maggie?”

      At the abrupt change of subject, Bert blinked, then thought about it for a long minute. “Nope. Can’t say that I did. Though Maggie wasn’t in the house. Sam let me in.” Giving his head a slow shake, he said, “Tried to talk to him about sticking around. Buying my practice.”

      Jeremiah perked up at that. “What’d he say?”

      “Same as always,” Bert said on a sigh and sat down on the edge of the mattress beside his friend. Tiny dust mites danced in the sunlight, tossed by the brush of wind slipping under the partially opened sash. “He’s not staying. Not interested in sticking around. Wants to practice medicine on his terms.”

      “Disappointing,” Jeremiah said on a matching sigh as he twisted the cap on the scotch bottle, breaking the seal. He lifted the bottle, took a sip, then handed it off to Bert. “The boy’s a hardhead, no doubt about it.”

      Bert snorted, took a quick pull on the scotch and said, “Wonder where he got that trait?”

      Maggie walked along the line, pulling the wooden clothespins free and taking down the now-dry sheets and pillowcases. Carefully she folded each item as she went and set it in the basket at her feet. When she’d finished one item, she kicked the basket along and moved on to the next.

      Sam stood on the back porch, one shoulder leaning against the newel post as he watched her.

      With Bert upstairs keeping Jeremiah occupied, he’d followed his instincts—which had brought him here.

      To Maggie.

      He didn’t like admitting that, even to himself, but there it was. Without really wanting to or even trying, he’d found a connection with this woman. He was already used to seeing her every day. To hearing her sing to herself when she thought no one was around. To seeing the way she cared for his grandfather and СКАЧАТЬ