“You see,” Sarah whispered, fearing her voice was about to crack, “I loved Willie, too—or the man I thought he was. I was young and stupid, and in the beginning I put up with a lot more than I should have. I guess I was hoping he’d…change…. It seems ridiculous now, but deep down I prayed he’d realize how much he loved Calla and me. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. When it became obvious that I didn’t have any choice but to leave, I moved home. I should have gone ahead with the divorce then, but I put it off. There were complications with money that made it easy to delay.”
“Dennis didn’t know?”
Admitting she’d lied to him was a painful thing. “I didn’t tell anyone, not even my father. I let everyone assume I was divorced. A few years later—once I started seeing Dennis—I desperately wanted out of the marriage, but by then I was trapped in the lie.” She reached for her tea, humiliated to be confessing her sins.
“Is this why Calla’s so upset with you?” Joanie asked softly.
Sarah shrugged. “Partly. Willie never bothered to keep in touch with her, and because she wanted a father who loved her and cared about her, she built him up in her mind. He became the perfect father—a complete fantasy. Later, when she discovered we weren’t divorced, she felt I’d purposely withheld her father from her.”
“That was why she moved in with him?”
Sarah nodded, putting down her cup. “There was more to her decision to run away. She was furious with me for…being involved with Dennis while still legally married to her father.”
“You can’t beat yourself up over that. We all make mistakes. It’s part of life, part of the maturing process. Trust me, I’ve made plenty of mistakes with my own children.”
“I’m sure you can understand why Calla believes I chose Dennis over her.” It didn’t help that they’d announced their engagement without talking to Calla first. Neither of them had intended to slight her, but they’d suffered the consequences ever since.
“None of us are perfect parents,” Joanie reassured her. “We try, but we’re only human.”
“I wish I could get her to look at things differently….”
“Calla’s still young. And she’s got some issues to resolve. Teenagers don’t have much perspective, anyway, but toss in divorce and what she assumes is betrayal, and you end up with the kind of confusion Calla’s feeling.”
Sarah didn’t know how to react to Calla’s contradictory emotions. Her daughter’s coming to her, asking for money to give Willie, had hit her hard. Even knowing the kind of man he was, Calla had wanted to rescue him and planned to use Sarah to do it. She was afraid that Calla had given Willie her own meager paycheck. If she had, Sarah would prefer not to know about it. She just couldn’t handle that right now.
“Is…is she dating Joe Lammermann?” Sarah hated to ask, but Calla hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about the on-again off-again relationship.
“She hasn’t seen much of him since the Sweetheart Dance. In fact, I’m fairly confident she’s interested in Kevin Betts.”
“Kevin?”
“I can’t say for sure, but last month she told me they were writing.”
“When did that start?”
“Not long ago. I do know the letters have been coming fast and furious lately.”
So Calla was corresponding with Kevin. Sarah experienced a sadness that was difficult to define. Having always liked Kevin, she was pleased, but at the same time, she wished Calla had mentioned this to her. She couldn’t help wondering when she would. If she ever did.
The Doctors’ Clinic had told Matt he should have the results of the blood test within a week. He’d figured they’d either phone him or mail him, but it was almost two weeks now and he hadn’t heard. From anyone.
No news was good news, or so he’d always been told, but as the days progressed, his thinking took a decided turn toward reality. No news was no news.
When he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, he invented an excuse about needing something from the hardware store and drove into town. The receptionist at the clinic glanced up as he approached the desk. His heart pounded with dread.
He gave his name, then said, “I’d like to talk to Dr. Kaplan.”
The middle-aged woman ran her finger down the appointment schedule. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see your name. What time was your appointment?”
“I don’t have an appointment,” he said with controlled impatience. “All I need is a few minutes of his time.”
“But…”
“I don’t mean to cause a ruckus, but I will talk to Dr. Kaplan.”
The woman heaved a deep sigh, and Matt knew she’d gotten his message. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” He remained standing at the desk.
A minute later, the receptionist returned. “Please take a seat. He’ll be with you as soon as possible.”
Kaplan’s ASAP turned out to be ninety minutes. Twice Matt was ready to walk straight through the door and corner the physician, but he managed to curb his irritation. He’d waited this long; a few more minutes wasn’t going to matter. What surprised him was the number of people coming in and out of the clinic—including several he recognized. Apparently the place was doing a good business.
“Dr. Kaplan will see you now,” the receptionist announced.
Matt stared at her and his legs refused to budge. After waiting more than two weeks and ninety minutes, he’d expected to race inside when the opportunity presented itself.
“Mr. Eilers?”
“Yes…thank you.” He stood and followed her inside as she led him past the cubicles to the physician’s private office.
He was pacing when the harried doctor walked in. “I understand you have a problem,” he snapped.
“I was told,” Matt said, his own voice raised, “that I’d get the results of my blood test a week ago. I’ve heard nothing. As you might well understand, I’m anxious to know the verdict.”
“You haven’t received notification?” He flipped open the chart.
“Not a word.”
“Ah.” Dr. Kaplan glanced up. “The results were sent to the court. They’ll send you notification soon. It’s our policy—”
“Tell me.” Matt wasn’t willing to wait until he was contacted by an attorney. He needed to know if he’d fathered Sheryl’s baby. He’d come this far and wouldn’t retreat now.
“Mr. Eilers—”
“Either you tell me or—”
“All right, all right.”
The physician must have recognized that Matt was frustrated, stressed out and damn near sick with worry.
Sitting down at his desk, Dr. Kaplan pushed up his glasses and read through the report.
“Well?” Matt demanded in a growl.
“The test is positive. You’re the child’s father.”
It was as though Matt had suddenly been tackled from behind. His legs simply went out from under him and he slumped into a chair. If there hadn’t been a cushioned seat to catch him, he would have fallen to the floor. “There isn’t any chance of a mistake?”
“None.”
The shock was almost immediately replaced with a numbness that quickly spread to his extremities. He’d always thought that if and when he ever learned he was going to be a father it would be a joyous moment. Instead, he felt a sense of impending doom. His life as he knew it was about to change drastically—and not for the better.
He should have realized the happiness he’d found with Margaret wouldn’t last. Nothing this good ever did. Dear God, how was he going to tell his wife?
“Mr. Eilers?”
He looked up and noticed that Dr. Kaplan was standing beside him.
“Thank you for letting me know.” He managed a hoarse whisper and staggered out of the chair. When he walked outside, the cold air hit his face but he was only distantly aware of it. Sheryl was having his baby.
After leaving the Doctors’ Clinic, Matt sat in his truck, hands clench
ing the steering wheel while he mulled over what to do next. Obviously he had to tell Margaret. His wife wasn’t going to take this news well and he couldn’t blame her. Briefly he considered hiding the truth from her until he was better able to deal with it. Until they were better able, he amended.
The numbness started to dissolve, replaced with an anger that began to build in the pit of his stomach. Sheryl had purposely gotten pregnant. Nothing would convince him otherwise. She was the one who’d suggested he marry Margaret, then obtain a divorce and marry her. He cringed every time he thought about that ridiculous scheme. He remembered that when he’d teasingly asked Sheryl why he should leave a wealthy wife to marry her, she’d claimed she had ways of bringing him back.
She had ways, all right. Getting pregnant was the trick she’d held up her sleeve. She planned to use this child as a weapon against him. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. A child.
It became clear to him that he had no choice but to tell Margaret and the sooner the better. If he didn’t, Sheryl would take great delight in doing it for him. The woman wanted to make as much trouble for him as she could. What was the old expression about a woman scorned? He had to protect his marriage from Sheryl’s fury, and that meant, first and foremost, telling Margaret the truth.
Decision made, he closed his eyes, wondering how he’d ever find the strength to face her with this news. Two minutes later, he was out of the truck and inside 3 OF A KIND. This task required the kind of courage only hard liquor provided.
“What can I do for you?” Buffalo Bob asked as Matt approached the bar.
“Give me a shot of whiskey.”
“Ice?”
“No.” He needed fortification—the courage weak men found in the bottom of a bottle.
Bob eyed him suspiciously as he set the shot glass down on the counter. “You don’t look so good,” he commented. “You sure you want this? I’ve never known you to drink anything but beer.”
Matt’s response was to reach for the whiskey and toss it down his throat. It burned, and he shook his head in an effort to cut the effect. “Another.”
Bob hesitated.
“What’s the matter?” Matt demanded. “Isn’t my money good enough?”
“It isn’t your money I’m worried about.”
“Just give me the damn drink.” He downed that glass, then shook his head again, coughing violently. He heard his name shouted from outside the restaurant.
“Matthew Eilers, come out here!”
Margaret? He whirled around and found his wife looking straight at him through the large window. One glimpse of the anger and outrage that flashed from her eyes told him he could stop worrying about breaking the truth to her. She already knew.
No sooner had he stepped out the door than she sprang directly in front of him.
“Is it true?” Her anger was fierce, unrelenting. “Is it true?” she screamed again.
“Margaret, perhaps we should talk about this someplace less public.” He glanced around, and it seemed everyone in town was watching. A couple of store owners stood in doorways. People crowded nearby, wanting to know what all the noise was about.
“Answer the question, dammit!”
“Is what true?” he repeated, buying time while he could.
The words had barely left his mouth when she grabbed hold of his shirt collar and jerked him toward her. Her face was scant inches from his own.
“You know what I’m talking about, so don’t play dumb with me.”
Matt closed his eyes and nodded.
“You son of a bitch.” She dragged out each word—and then slammed her fist into his belly with enough force to double him over.
Too stunned to react, Matt staggered backward only to have her immediately plow her fist into him a second time. Clutching his middle, Matt fell to his knees and groaned.
He looked up, silently pleading with her to let him explain, but he could see it would do no good. Nothing he had to say now would make a damn bit of difference. He closed his eyes, expecting her to kick him next.
Instead she whirled around and stalked off.
“You okay?” Buffalo Bob asked as Matt rose painfully to his feet.
Not only had Margaret slugged him as hard as a man, she’d humiliated him in front of the entire town.
“You need a place for the night?” Bob asked.
Matt shook his head. He was going after his wife, and they’d talk this out. Sheryl might try to screw up his life, but by God, he wasn’t going to let it happen. He loved Margaret and would do everything in his power to save his marriage.
He couldn’t have been more than ten minutes behind her, but by the time he pulled into the yard, she’d managed to drag the contents of his closet outside and dump it all on the ground.
Matt parked and advanced cautiously toward her. “Margaret…”
In return she glared at him with such ferocity he swallowed his plea.
“I want you out of here, understand?”
He raised both hands in a pleading gesture. “Can we talk about this?”
“No!”
“All right. I can see you’re upset…. Perhaps this isn’t the best time for us to—”
“I want you off my land! Now get the hell out.”
Matt rubbed his face. He felt as if he’d walked directly into a full-blown nightmare. “Margaret, I know you’re angry. I don’t blame you, but the least you can do is hear me out.”
“The least I can do? That’s rich.” Her laugh was high and hysterical. Next she proceeded to stomp all over his clothes, grinding them into the mud and dirt. “Get out…of my sight…before…I do something I regret.”
The tears in her voice damn near broke his heart. Not caring what she did to him, Matt moved toward her, taking her in his arms. As he knew she would, Margaret started to pound at his chest with her fists. He took each hit, not caring about the pain, more concerned with the agony he’d caused her.
Margaret was sobbing now. Matt felt like weeping himself. He tried to hold her, but she wouldn’t allow it. She pushed away from him with such vigor that she stumbled backward. He reached out to balance her, but she slapped at his hands.
“I hate you!” she cried vehemently. “I can’t believe I could ever have loved you.”
“Margaret, please…”
Shaking her head wildly, she burst into sobs and raced toward the house.
Matt hurried after her, not knowing what he’d say or do if he happened to catch her. He didn’t have a chance to find out. Margaret got to the porch first and slammed the door in his face.
Resting his head against the screen, he bent over, balancing his hands on his knees as he exhaled. His head swam, and he was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. Sick enough to step off the porch and heave into the bushes. It wasn’t long before he lost what remained of his lunch, plus the whiskey.
Wiping his mouth, he walked over to where Margaret had dumped his clothes. He crouched down to pick up a shirt. The door opened and he glanced up, hoping it was Margaret.
Sadie stood on the porch, hands on her broad hips. “Quite the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
He straightened. “Is Margaret okay?”
“No, but there’s nothing you can do now.”
Even with all the evidence to the contrary, he had to say it. “Despite what she thinks or what anyone says, I love her.”
“You have a fine way of showing it.”
“I never touched another woman after we were married.” Sheryl had tried to tempt him, had kissed him, but he’d wanted nothing to do with her. He’d always known what a conniving bitch she was. Why had he ever gotten involved? What an idiot! He kicked at his clothes, disgusted with himself.
Sadie snickered.
“Go ahead and say it,” he yelled. “You never approved of me. The old man didn’t either.”
“You don’t deserve her.”
Matt hauled what clothes he could to the bed of his pickup, throwing them inside.
> “You running?” Sadie taunted.
“No. Like I said, I love my wife and by God, I’m going to fight to save this marriage.”
“So you’re leaving?”
“She kicked me out.”
“There’s always the bunkhouse.”
Matt hadn’t thought of that and appreciated the suggestion. He nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’ve accomplished quite a feat, Matt Eilers,” the housekeeper commented as he grabbed another bundle of mud-caked clothes.
Frowning, he looked in her direction. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve managed to get two women pregnant at the same time.”
Because his head was reeling and his heart was aching, it took him a moment to understand. Shock raced through him. “Margaret’s pregnant?”
“Two women at once. You must be real proud of yourself.” With that, she returned to the house.
Matt heard her turn the bolt, locking him out.
Curled up tightly in the middle of the bed, Margaret wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the wall. Sleep was out of the question. Every time she thought about the letter that had arrived in the mail—a letter addressed to them both—the pain started all over again. Sheryl hadn’t missed a trick. She was after Matt—and Margaret’s money.
After spending several minutes sorting through the legal jargon, she’d realized it was a paternity suit against Matt. Not only was Sheryl Decker looking for child support, she sought income to cover her expenses during the pregnancy, plus all medical costs. Seeing that Matt had married a wealthy woman, the amount Sheryl’s attorney requested was a substantial sum.
Margaret wasn’t stupid. She tallied up the numbers and figured out that she and Matt weren’t married yet when he’d slept with Sheryl. But that didn’t make the pain any less. He’d fooled around before the wedding, and she couldn’t trust that the affair hadn’t continued afterward. He’d lied to her! Hadn’t he claimed that he’d never slept with Sheryl?