Danger, Sweetheart (30 page)

“Yes, I'm engaging to Natalie! And she's engaging to me. After I propose. Mom, may I have some money for a ring?” There was no response, and her eyes seemed overly bright. He peered at her and realized, “Are you in your pajamas?”

Shannah glanced down at herself. “Yes.”

“Pity, I was hoping it was a fever dream.” His mother was inordinately fond of ankle-length velour nightgowns and matching velour robes and slippers in various pastel shades. In winter, she was a walking electric chair, at times generating so much static she fried the thermostat.

“We came as soon as Natalie called us,” the nuclear option explained. “Your mother had more important things on her mind than outfit coordination.”

“S'fine, Nonna,” he said, drowsy again. “Natalie will fix it.”

“Whatever you say, Blake.” A soothing pat, and Blake noticed his hands had been cleaned and bandaged. He was also wearing his last pair of clean black boxers, and a clean T-shirt.

“No!”

“What?” Every woman in the room turned her full attention on him, including Dr. Wen, who hurried back to his bedside.

“What is it? Pain? Are you having trouble breathing?”

“I missed our sex!” he cried to Natalie, gesturing to his clean clothes. “It must have been incredible!”

“You … um—” She was so pretty when she blushed. “We didn't. Do that, I mean.”

Oh.
He hadn't realized he'd been speaking out loud. No problem, it wasn't at all embarrassing, like it would have been if he had said he dreamed of pressing his lips to every inch of her, repeatedly, for the next fifty years.

“Blake.”

He knew she would taste even better than she looked and he couldn't wait to catalog all her flavors.

“Blake! Maybe we can talk about this later?”

My God, Natalie is telepathic! She's reading my mind! This is incredible!

“I'm not telepathic, ya idjit. You're still saying these things out loud.”

“The last ones,” his grandmother said helpfully, “you shouted.”

“So wise, Natalie.” He sighed. “Come here and sex me again. I promise to pay attention this time.”

“I didn't sex you the first— No. I'm not going to try and have a logical discussion while you're sick.”

“So wise. If I die, clear my browser history.”

“Now that,” she said with a grin, “is the first sensible thing you've said in a while.”

Blake slept.

 

Thirty-six

Natalie woke with a start; she'd nodded off in the chair beside Blake's bed, which was a miracle. It was a rickety wooden chair she'd dragged up from the kitchen, and not even a little comfortable. It was late morning by the looks of it; the attic was splashed with sunshine and she realized for the first time in forever that she was ravenous. And that she needed to brush her teeth.

As if picking up on her hunger

(heh, maybe Shannah's the telepath),

the door to the attic opened and Natalie heard Shannah and Ruth coming up the stairs. She could smell the muffins and met them at the top.

“Mind readers,” she said, then promptly snatched a blueberry muffin and wolfed it in four bites.

“Chew, dear; you're no good to Blake if someone has to give you a tracheotomy. Here.” Ruth handed her a large glass of orange juice, which Natalie decimated in three swallows.

“Oh God, thank you. I had no idea how much I needed that until I smelled you.” She was already settling back in the chair beside him. “Uh, smelled the food, I meant. Not that you guys smell.”
I probably smell
, she realized.
I think I showered the morning Blake got sick … or was it the night before? Cripes, what day is it?

“Natalie, I want you to take a nap,” Shannah told her. “I haven't seen you sleep since we got here.”

“No, I'm fine. He might want me. I'm fine.”

“He absolutely does want you,” Ruth said dryly, “and don't you think you should get your rest so you'll be ready when he is?”

Is Blake's grandma telling me to rest up for sex?

“I'm fine.”

Blake rolled over on his side and slept on. Every woman tensed when he moved and relaxed when he kept sleeping. Natalie didn't know she was going to brush his hair away from his eyes until she did it.

“It's my fault he's sick.”

“Do not start, young lady,” Shannah warned her. “My son is a grown man and has been taking care of himself since before he was voting age. I warned him about his hands myself.”

Natalie couldn't accept it. Shannah was just being nice. Granted, she didn't exactly have a strong rep for that behavior, but it was the only explanation that worked. “Dammit! I knew he felt too warm when we were hugging in the barn.”

Ruth cleared her throat. “Oh? Is ‘hugging' a euphemism for—”

“Hugging is
hugging,
ma'am. Cripes.”

Shannah was staring down at him with an expression Natalie had never seen, thought no one could ever see, on her face: helpless and hopeless. “If you're to blame, Natalie, then I am, too. I put him out here and I knew he'd be in over his head. You at least showed him what to do. I just abandoned him there.”

“Not true. I know you kept calling him, offering to come to the farm, or asking him to come have supper with you at the B and B. He's the one who didn't want to—”
Spend time with you,
but that wasn't at all tactful, so she swallowed the rest.

“But when it all came out—when you were having lunch at the bed-and-breakfast the day Ruth came—”

“I remember.” She did. A day of infamy, to be sure, and one she never wanted to relive.

“Why didn't he just ask me for his money back?”

Natalie stared at Shannah for a long moment, and Ruth leveled her with a look. “What an insanely stupid question.”

“Oh.” She seemed to hear herself, and her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Well, yes. I suppose it is.”

“He gets a double dose of pride,” Ruth added. “Tarbell-Banaan pride.”

“Banaan-Tarbell pride.” Flustered, she started to pace, and Natalie realized with utter amazement that Shannah Banaan was
wringing her hands
like a helpless heroine out of a fairy tale waiting for the men to swoop in and save her. “D'you know what Roger told me?”

“Roger's a soon-to-be-retired pig farmer,” Natalie explained. “Blake stole his last pig. Um, liberated the White Rose of York is what I meant.”

Ruth remained unruffled. “All right. I want to hear the rest of Shannah's story, but then we're going to come back to the pig thing, dear.”

“Yeah, I don't blame you. Half the town thinks he's crushing on your daughter-in-law.”

“Really? Any truth to that rumor?”

“I think so. And I'm pretty sure she likes him back. She tolerates him way more than she tolerates anyone else. I think if she wasn't hanging with him, she'd be a lot less pleasant. I mean, coming back here to try to fix her family's mess before the judgment of the whole town is her worst nightmare. Roger makes it bearable, I think.”

“Why, he sounds lovely.”

“Ladies.”
Shannah saw she had their attention and continued but didn't look as irked as Natalie would have anticipated. “Roger told me my father came to town and he and Blake almost got into a fight! That was how he met his grandfather.”

“That pompous ass,” Ruth said dismissively. Natalie felt her eyebrows arch, and Shannah swung around to stare at her mother-in-law. “What? He is.”

“Yes. But how did you know? You haven't been in town long enough to hear much gossip about him.”

Ruth said nothing, just stepped to the dresser and began arranging Blake's medication bottles.

“Mrs. Tarbell?”

No response. Natalie started to get nervous. What was she missing? And would the women come to blows? Was she expected to referee?
Maybe I'll take that nap. Is there a way to retroactively nap so I miss the entire conversation leading to the brawl?

Shannah tried again. “Ruth?”

The nuclear option turned back around and beheld her daughter-in-law with an expression of fond annoyance. “I called him, of course.”

“You—
What?
When? Before you came to town?”

“Years ago. When the boys were teenagers. When I got to meet you for the first time. And you were very polite, though you didn't want me there, and the boys were lovely, and so protective of you. Even when I explained who I was they wouldn't take that at face value. They watched how I behaved for a long time before relaxing their guard. Before letting themselves think of me as family. I thought— I thought if your family knew how hard you had worked and what a good mother you were, and how wonderful the boys were, they would regret cutting ties. They would want to be in all your lives. I thought they would help you.”

Shannah smiled, a bitter grimace that made her look like she'd been chewing lemon rind. “They weren't interested, though, were they? Not until you told them your son had left their grandsons millions of dollars. I always wondered how they found out. I knew I didn't tell them.”

“I told them a few other things, too,” Ruth muttered. “At length. And I might have called back twice, because he kept interrupting my train of thought by hanging up on me.”

A strangled sound from Shannah, which Natalie suspected might be a gulped laugh.

“I've always admired you, Shannah. You're hard, but only because you had to be. And you love your boys. That would have been enough for me, but the twins are a part of you, my dear; you and my son made them; they are the
best
part of the two of you. Did you really think I didn't love you, too?”

Shannah shook her head. A lone tear tracked down her cheek and she rubbed it away with a savage gesture.

Ruth just
tsk
ed. “Like I said: hard. Oh, Shannah. There's not much I wouldn't do for you, silly girl.”

Oh my God someone called Shannah Tarbell a silly girl and wasn't knifed!
What is happening in this weird wonderful town?

Somehow the women were hugging, and Natalie brushed her hands over her eyes to make sure she wasn't leaking, because they felt suspiciously moist. There was movement on the bed and she looked down to see Blake blinking up at them.

“My fever's back,” he said, observing the embracing women, then caught her hand and kissed the knuckles. “I don't mind.”

“Shut up,” she said with all the warmth she would have put into
God, I adore you and would love for you to have my children.
“Rest.”

“Captain, my captain,” he mumbled, then dozed off. He didn't let go of her hand. Natalie didn't mind.

 

Thirty-seven

She woke with a start to find Shannah easing her out of the chair and into bed beside Blake. “Hmm? Is he okay? What? Are there muffins? What?”

“Hush, you'll sleep easier on the bed. We've given up trying to make you go to your room. Or to take a shower,” Shannah added in a mutter.

“You caught on quicker than my parents did.” Natalie yawned. Then stiffened. “Margaret of Anjou and the White Rose of York! I've got to—”

“Shush.” A less-than-gentle shove and Natalie sprawled beside Blake, who slumbered on, oblivious. “I know about the piglet … are you talking about that strange grumpy pony? She refuses to be moved. Sit up a little, hon, and look out the window.”

Natalie did as she was bid and wondered if Blake's delirium was catching. It was light again, but not for long, and she could see the pony was alternately cropping grass and staring up at the attic window.
Stalker. Stalker pony!

“What the hell has gotten into that thing?” Natalie wondered aloud. “If it was any other animal, any other animal including a black mamba or a wolverine or a scorpion, I would assume she'd gotten fond of Blake. But she's not any other animal.”

“I'm afraid that's the only explanation, unless your pony is in it for some elaborate long con and this is how she's going to lull Blake so as to eventually kick him to death.”

“See,
that
makes sense. But I need to make sure they're—”

“You need to stay with my grandson.” Ruth spoke for the first time and Natalie started. More proof of exhaustion; the attic wasn't so big she wouldn't notice the nuclear option. “You've made that plain. But don't worry about the chores. That strange man with all the freckles said he would take care of them, and he has been.”

“That's actually weirder than Blake's delirium.”

“I think my grandson nearly committing vehicular manslaughter on the man made an impression. I've never seen such a hard worker.”

Natalie started to laugh and, for a moment, was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop.

“So go back to sleep.” Shannah's firm hand was on Natalie's shoulder, pushing her back down on the bed. “Heartbreak is in good hands.” That couldn't be true, Natalie decided, but was too exhausted to question it. “Blake is better. Dr. Wen said he should get up tomorrow. Time for you to rest, my dear.”

My dear? This can't be real life. I think we've all got Blake's fever. I've never seen Shannah smile so much. And I think I heard Roger downstairs last night wooing her—God, I hope he didn't take his piglet back. And the nuclear option is pretty great. I'm not sure Blake had any idea he had such a wonderful family.

“Just for a little while,” Natalie temporized, then ruined it by yawning.

The moment the door to the attic closed, Blake muttered, “Alone at last.”

She jumped, startled, and tried to sit up, but he threw an arm across her waist and held her beside him with gentle strength.