The Widow's Little Secret. Judith Stacy

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      “No.” Mattie pushed away from him. “No. There’s nothing he can do, and besides I—”

      She didn’t finish the sentence. It was none of Jared’s business that she couldn’t afford another visit to the doctor.

      “I’ll take her home,” Mrs. Nance said, as if reading Mattie’s thoughts.

      “I’ll handle it,” Jared told her in a tone that brooked no disagreement. He dipped his chin toward his badge. “It’s my duty. Besides, don’t you have to look after the café?”

      “The restaurant is my responsibility,” Mattie insisted. She tried to pull away, but Jared’s long fingers remained folded around her arm and splayed across her back. “I need to stay here. The noon rush will start soon.”

      Mrs. Nance shook her head sympathetically, but didn’t say anything. There was no need. Both of them knew how foolish Mattie’s claim was.

      “Let the sheriff take you home for a while, dear,” Mrs. Nance said. “He…understands.”

      With that, Mattie realized Mrs. Nance had told Jared about her condition while she’d been in the outhouse.

      How much more humiliation could she bear in front of this man?

      “I can get myself home just fine,” Mattie announced, though really, she hardly felt up to it.

      Jared never gave her a chance to prove her words. With a little pressure at her back, he escorted her away from the restaurant.

      When they got to the street, Mattie glanced at the people passing by on the boardwalk and pulled away from Jared.

      “I will not be paraded through town like a circus train,” she told him.

      Mattie looked up to see a frown on his face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t put his hand on her again.

      When they reached her house, Mattie expected Jared would leave. He didn’t. He walked inside as if he belonged there. Mattie was too tired, too nauseated to protest. She went straight to her bedroom with him on her heels.

      Heat flushed Mattie’s cheeks. This room. That night. Him.

      “Do you need help with your dress?” Jared asked, his gaze traveling over her, lingering on her belly.

      He’d already seen her naked. Suddenly, Mattie felt that way again. Vulnerable, exposed, but not in a sexual way. More like a bug in a jar.

      “Stop looking at my stomach!” She slammed the door in his face, then dropped onto the bed and fell asleep.

      When she awoke some time later, Mattie felt only marginally better. She splashed her face at the washstand, then took down her hair and pinned it up again. Leaning closer to the mirror, she took stock of her features. Pale, dark circles under her eyes…She looked terrible.

      Almost as terrible as she felt.

      With a deep sigh, Mattie went to the kitchen. Her stomach jolted again when she found Jared standing at her cookstove.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

      He spun around. A moment passed while his gaze traveled the length of her, dipped to her belly for only a second, then landed on her face.

      “I heard you stirring around in the bedroom,” he said. “I made you something to eat.”

      “You’ve been here all this time?” she asked. He’d stayed? Gone through her cupboards? Sat in her chairs? Made himself comfortable in her house? Had he peeked into her bedroom while she slept?

      Jared took a biscuit from the warmer and poured tea into one of her china cups. “You don’t have much here to eat.”

      “I own a restaurant, remember? I usually eat there.”

      Jared pulled back a chair for her. When she glared at him instead of sitting down, he circled the table and eased into a chair across from her, then picked up the newspaper and began reading.

      How casual and comfortable he’d made himself, sitting at her table. Honestly, the gall of this man.

      Another minute passed before Jared spoke as he turned the page of the newspaper. “The tea and biscuit will settle your stomach, make you feel better.”

      He was right, of course, but it didn’t particularly suit Mattie that he’d said it. Or that he’d prepared it for her. Or that he was sitting at her table, in her house.

      But the tea did smell good, while so few things did these days. Mattie sat down and took little sips as she ate the biscuit. Jared kept reading the newspaper, his silence unnerving.

      When she finished, he dropped the paper and laid his hand lightly on her wrist, keeping her in the chair.

      “We need to talk,” he said.

      Mattie pulled away and got to her feet. “There is nothing we need to discuss.”

      His gaze dipped to her belly. “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

      It was pointless to deny it. Mrs. Nance had told him. Her illness had confirmed it.

      Mattie clenched her fists at her sides. “Three times in one night! How could I not be pregnant?”

      Jared rose and stood beside her, his expression grim. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

      She raised her chin. “It’s my husband’s.”

      “It’s mine.” Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you had some other man in town making you forget after I left.”

      She slapped him. Hard, on the cheek with her open palm. Jared didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, didn’t move. Finally, he nodded, satisfied.

      “It’s mine,” he declared.

      “It’s my husband’s,” Mattie told him again. “That’s what the whole town thinks and that’s what I’m letting them believe.”

      “Just your little secret. Is that it?”

      Mattie gazed up at Jared and jerked her chin. “Yes, my little secret.”

      This baby could have been Del’s, if they’d had a normal husband-wife relationship. The town didn’t know any differently, and Mattie had decided to let them believe it.

      After all, telling the truth would label her baby a bastard. What kind of choice was that?

      “Did you ever intend to tell me?” Jared asked.

      She turned away. “No. I was never going to tell you.”

      Jared drew in a big breath, then let it out slowly, as if he’d come to terms with everything she’d said, made some sort of decision about it.

      “Let’s go,” he said.

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