The Pregnant Bride Wore White. Susan Crosby

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      They pulled into a gravel driveway. Tucked into a grove of trees sat a log cabin, Joe’s truck parked beside it. He came out the front door as they came to a stop.

      “I stacked all the baby stuff in your office, out of the way,” Joe said. “I’ll come back and help put the crib together, or whatever else you need. Just let me know.”

      “Thanks, Joe,” Jake said. He’d held out a hand to Keri to assist her from the SUV but let go of her when she was steady on her feet. “Go on in,” he said to her. “I’ll be right behind you.”

      She thanked both of his brothers, then went inside, leaving the door open for him. From the window she watched the three men talk for a minute, then hug, putting a lump in her throat. Would he tell her what he‘d been doing all this time? Could he? She thought he’d been working for a private security firm the past seven years, not the government, so how was it he went deep undercover? He’d spent eight years in the army after college, working in intelligence. Or maybe special ops. He was vague about it all. All she knew for sure was he was fluent in a whole bunch of languages, and those skills had been utilized constantly by the military.

      As soon as he headed toward the cabin with her suitcases, she turned around and surveyed the room. The ultimate guy space, she thought, all wood and dark colors, a huge rock fireplace, contemporary kitchen, big-screen television. The bedroom and office must be down the hallway. After spending all that time in Nana Mae’s house, with its lace curtains and delicate furniture, this was like entering a dungeon. Not a whole lot of sunlight found its way indoors.

      There were framed photos spread along the sofa table, pictures of his family, including one that included all thirty-one McCoys, one with Aggie and his late father, a sweet one with his grandmother and a couple in which he wore an army uniform, one with an arm slung over another man’s shoulders, the other with a group of ten men. She was glad he left the pictures out in the open, glad he hadn’t shut away that part of his life.

      Jake came through the open doorway as she waited. She saw a change come over him, in his posture, his expression, his breathing, the reality of being home overwhelming. He set the suitcases down and looked around. His shoulders slumped. After a few long seconds, he moved down the hallway, opened a door and went inside, shutting it behind him, leaving her standing and watching. Silence followed, agonizing silence.

      Time dragged. Into the fourth hour she heated a mug of soup and carried it onto the front porch as the sun set. The rich minestrone comforted her in the unfamiliar surroundings, a stark reminder of how little she knew about Jake, even though all they’d done was talk for the three days they were locked in a cell together.

      Well, that wasn’t all they’d done, given that she’d ended up pregnant—

      The screen door opened, and Jake stepped onto the porch. He glanced her way, then stood between the rough-hewn posts at the top of the stairs, arms folded, feet planted, and looked out at his property, with its tall pine and majestic old oak trees, manzanita dotting the landscape, as well, and small boulders. The land was untamed by hoe or lawn mower. There was plenty of greenery, but nothing in bloom, even though it was spring. Keri had come to love the Mother Lode area of Northern California, so different from anywhere else she’d lived.

      His shirt was wrinkled, as if he’d not only worn it to bed but hadn’t moved an inch the whole time. One side of his face held indentations from the pillowcase.

      “It’s beautiful here,” she said, when she couldn’t stand his silence any longer.

      He nodded. She waited, wishing for a rocking chair, which would at least give her something to do, but his porch held only two Adirondack chairs.

      “There’s minestrone soup in the fridge,” she said. “I could heat some up for you. If you’d rather have some rotisserie chicken, there’s that, and plenty of salad vegetables.”

      “Thanks. I’ll get it when I’m ready.”

      She started to stand, then realized she couldn’t gracefully get out of the deeply slanted chair, so she settled back again. “Your mom told me that you’re not here often.”

      “A few times a year.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and rested one foot on a lower porch rail, still not looking at her.

      “So you’re usually on the road?” she asked.

      He sort of laughed. “On the road,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You know what I do for a living.”

      “I know you do high-level security work. I know you carry a gun. But I don’t know why you would go undercover for five months.”

      When he didn’t answer, she said, “Am I not allowed to ask questions? You intimated I had a hand in it somehow, because of the kidnapping. Don’t I have the right to know what that means?”

      He finally turned around. Keri rested her hands on her belly, her fingers splayed, protective.

      “Let me settle in. I need to get it all clear in my mind first. A lot happened. I do apologize for leaving you alone earlier. Honestly, I didn’t have another word in me.”

      “That’s understandable.” She shifted her hands, deciding to shift the conversation, too. “The baby’s moving.”

      His gaze dropped.

      “Space is tight now,” she said, “so it’s pretty confined. I can’t feel the movements as easily as a month ago. I love lying in the bathtub watching the baby move. It’s slow motion, but it always amazes me. Would you like to feel it?”

      He hesitated. “Not right now,” he said finally.

      She didn’t push. There was nothing else to say except, “I’m glad you’re home.”

      It was as if someone had turned off a switch inside him. “This isn’t home,” he said.

      “It isn’t? You have another house somewhere?”

      “No. This is the only house I own, but it’s just a house. It’s a tax deduction, and privacy when I need to be in town. If it weren’t for my family, I would never have bought the place, any place. I travel light.”

      “I do, too, as a matter of practicality, not choice. You and my parents would get along really well.”

      There was a long pause. “I imagine I’ll find that out for myself sometime in the future.”

      She pictured him meeting her parents. The only thing they had in common with Jake was traveling light. He was serious and controlled. Her parents were…neither. They were good people, though, kind and selfless.

      Keri looked around her, patting the chair arms several times, wondering where to take the conversation next. “This feels like a home to me. You have mementos. Pictures. It’s furnished and decorated.”

      “My sister Cher insisted. She always was bossy. Comes from being the firstborn, I think.”

      Keri was glad to see him finally smile. “I like all your sisters.”

      “Me, too.” He pushed away from the railing. “Minestrone, you said?”

      “And chicken. Salad. Sourdough bread.” She extended СКАЧАТЬ