The Bad Luck Wedding Cake (36 page)

Tye finished checking the status of his teeth with his tongue, then stuck a finger through a knife slit in his shirt and checked the skin beneath for blood. “You should have handled your visit with the Wests this way instead of making those calm, cold demands.”

“Nah. As much as I’d like to knock Beatrice’s teeth down her throat, I couldn’t hit a woman. I did get to tell them both what I thought of them, though, and sending them packing was pleasurable enough.”

“You know, I like trains,” Tye observed, dusting off his filthy pants. “They come in awfully handy for getting rid of enemies.” He gazed around the saloon and added, “We’re gonna owe the proprietor some money for the chairs we busted.”

His brother waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. It was worth it. Bailey should be glad I gave him nothing more than a broken nose after he messed with my Menaces. Hell, he’s lucky I don’t let Jenny loose on him. As mean as she’s feeling these days, she’d at least have broken a rib or two.”

Accepting the raw steak one of the dancers brought him for his rapidly swelling eye, Trace plopped it against his face and added, “I must say, that lie you told him about Claire and her Magic hex was inspired. On top of the threat of Jenny’s voodoo curse, he’ll be checking the color of his—” Trace broke off abruptly midsentence. “Emmaline Suzanne McBride! What in tarnation are you doing in Hell’s Half Acre?”

Tye jerked his head around toward the saloon’s swinging front doors just as Maribeth and Katrina burst into the building on the heels of their older sister. “You have to come, Papa,” Emma pleaded.

“Hurry, Papa!” Maribeth shouted. “You must hurry.”

Katrina hopped up and down. “Come on, Papa. Come on!”

Trace shoved to his feet, the beefsteak hanging forgotten in his hand. “What’s the matter, girls? What’s wrong?”

The three children hollered together. “It’s the baby!”

Trace’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “The baby?” he squeaked.

“Mama’s having the baby.”

“You’ve gotta come quick!”

Tye and the girls tore out of the Green Parrot, then skidded to a halt as they realized they’d left Trace behind. Dashing back in, Tye found his brother glued to his spot, silently mouthing the words “having the baby” over and over again. Tye muttered a curse, then yanked his brother’s arm. “Put some git in your gitalong, Brother, or you’ll miss this whole show.”

“She’s having the baby.”

Tye snorted, tugged the steak from Trace’s hand, and slapped him with it. That managed to get the father-to-be moving, and soon they raced neck-and-neck on a sprint through the Acre, Emma, Maribeth, and Katrina following at their heels.

***

CLAIRE REMOVED the cool cloth from Jenny’s forehead and stepped away as Trace burst into the room. “Where’s the doctor? Honey, are you all right? Did you have it yet?”

In the waning moments of a contraction, Jenny cut her eyes toward her husband and snarled. “Get him out of here!”

Even as she wondered about the bruises painting her brother-in-law’s face, Claire couldn’t help but smile at his shocked expression. He’d had no warning, of course. He had not been here to hear his wife call him a selection of mean-spirited names for getting her in this condition. But, as Trace would soon see, Jenny did that only during her contractions. In between times she called for him, desperately wanting him to be with her and hold her hand.

The labor had come on quickly, and Jenny had demanded that the girls summon the doctor before their father. The physician had arrived a short time ago and confirmed what Claire and Jenny had both suspected. This was shaping up to be an extremely fast delivery for a first-time mother.

Over the course of the next half hour, Claire sponged Jenny’s brow as Trace hurried into and out of the room on his laboring wife’s strident demands. With every entrance and exit, signs of his frustration grew until finally, when the pains were hitting Jenny about a minute apart and she was yelling some particularly unflattering things about him, he exploded with frustration. “Dammit, my love, I’ve worn out the damned door hinges, and I’m staying put. Now, let’s get this over with. I’m tired.”

Lying prone in her bed, Jenny actually took a swing at him.

Their son was born five minutes later.

While a bathed and dressed William Wesley McBride was introduced to his adoring sisters and relieved uncle, Claire slipped from the room and made her way downstairs to the parlor. Seeing that precious little bundle another minute longer was more than a woman rejected by her man could stand. She’d done her feminine duty by helping Jenny during the labor, but now was family time. She didn’t belong.

She was beginning to think she would never belong.

For more than a week now, she’d worked her wiles on her husband. For more than a week, he’d resisted. She’d tried everything from seduction to sedition. He ignored everything.

Yesterday had been the worst. She’d had the bright idea to tell him she loved him every time their paths crossed. By noon he had been going out of his way to avoid her. By suppertime, he’d taken to hiding in his room. With the door locked.

“Scaredy-cat,” she’d called from the hallway. He hadn’t bothered to deny it. He hadn’t bothered with anything at all.

Now, standing at the parlor window and gazing outside, she watched a pair of squirrels scamper along the front lawn. From upstairs came the sweet music of an infant cry, quickly hushed, then the delighted laughter of the three McBride girls. The sound pierced Claire’s heart like an arrow.

The new parents’ display of love, joy, and devotion made it impossible for Claire to ignore the likelihood that she had been living a fool’s dream. Tye cared about her. Of that much, she was certain. But as Trace and Jenny exemplified, caring and loving were two very different things. If the fear she sensed in Tye was stronger than his feelings for her, perhaps she fought an unwinnable war.

Maybe the time had come to let the dream go.

“Claire?” Tye’s voice washed over her like a warm tide in winter.

Bracing herself, she turned. “Yes?”

He drew a deep breath. “I just wanted to thank you for helping Jenny. She said having a woman with her— having you with her—was a comfort.”

“I was happy to be of help. It was a magical moment to be part of.”

“Yeah, I imagine it was.” He walked toward her. “Have you ever witnessed a birth before?”

“Just kittens. Never a baby.” Praying her voice wouldn’t break, she added, “Isn’t he beautiful?”

Skepticism twisted his mouth, and worry dimmed his eyes. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you think babies all have that…sort of…monkey look to them?”

Claire found the expression on his face so comical that she spoke without thinking. “He’s a beautiful little boy and don’t you dare say a word otherwise. Just wait until you have a newborn child. Then you’ll see—”

He cut her off in a cold hard tone that matched the look in his eyes. “Are you telling me something, Claire?”

Fissures of pain crept across the surface of her heart. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Thank God.”

His fervor hurt, driving home to her how little progress she had made in the past week. Numbness spread slowly throughout her. “Are you afraid of me, Tye? Is that it? Do I threaten you in a way I don’t understand?”

He clenched a fist. “Claire, don’t. Not now.”

Even as he spoke, she shook her head. “Yes, now. I think now is the perfect time. We have just witnessed an event that is the very essence of what love and family is all about. I can’t think of a more appropriate moment to discuss it.”

“There is nothing to discuss,” he snapped, whirling away from her, storming across the room to stand gazing out the window. “We’ve said it all. Just let it go.”

She almost did. Upstairs, the baby started crying and Claire almost fled the room, the house, her husband, so much did the blessed sound bring heartache to her soul. But to her own surprise, she stayed. The love she felt for this man gave her the strength to demand her due, to force the issue one more time.

“You didn’t explain why you’re so dead set on ending this marriage. I deserve to know that, Tye. I deserve to hear the words.”

“Damnit, Claire, don’t you see?” His head dropped back, his face lifted toward the ceiling. His words sounded pulled from his soul. “You don’t deserve anything I have to give you. You deserve so goddamn much more.”

“And what’s that, Tye?” She marched over to him, gripped his sleeve and tugged. “You answer me, Tye McBride. You tell me the truth. What do I deserve, love? Is that it? Love?” Voice cracking, she demanded, “Why won’t you love me?”

A shudder wracked him. He met her gaze. Emotions swirled in the deep green current. Agony. Anguish. Hopelessness.

“Oh, Tye.” Even she heard the pity in her tone.

He jerked as if she’d struck him. “Fine,” he said, yanking away from her, his eyes shooting fire. “You want to know the truth? I’ll tell you the truth. I won’t love you because I can’t love you. I don’t have it in me to love you. That’s asking more from me than I have to give.”

Inside, Claire began to crumble. She wanted to shout,
Liar, Liar
. Every act this man did shouted of his ability to love. His Blessings. His brother. Why couldn’t he see it?

As fast as it had occurred, his fury died. “You need to get on with your life, Claire. You have so much to offer a man. You’re sweet and generous and smart and so damned beautiful. You deserve the very best life has to offer. And believe me, sugar, that ain’t me.”

He was wrong, so wrong. Claire’s body trembled and she wrapped her arms around herself.

Tye muttered a curse and again his head dropped back. He gazed at the ceiling for a long moment before he calmly met her gaze. “If I could love any woman—make a family with any woman—that woman would be you, Claire. But I can’t love you. I’m cold inside. I’m dead inside. I just can’t love you. You must believe me. I want you to be free to find someone who can give you what you want and need. What you deserve.”

Claire never knew pain could feel this way. Hollow and cold. So empty. Expanding. Bigger and bigger until it threatened to consume her.

Tye cleared his throat “That’s why I pray my lack of discipline and restraint doesn’t bear fruit. I’m not the right man to give you babies. Hopefully that won’t be an issue and we can call this marriage quits. Soon. It’s better for us both that way.”

His words pierced like bullets, shattering her heart. Nothing she’d done had mattered. She’d failed at flirtation, at temptation, at seduction. No demonstration of wifely skills captured his notice, and thus, his heart.

He wanted to call the marriage quits. He wanted to run in spite of all she had to offer, and she had offered him her best. Maybe she had been wrong, and he wasn’t afraid to be happy. Maybe he told the truth.

Claire nearly doubled over from the pain. Tye didn’t love her. Never once had he said the words, not even when she barraged him with declarations of her own love. He had stated just the opposite, in fact.
I can’t love you
. She’d heard the words. Perhaps the time had come to accept them. Perhaps the time had come to let go.

No matter how much it hurt.

Then, like a bugle call, again came the sound of little Billy’s cry. For Claire it was the signal for surrender.

“This morning.” It came out as a dry, cracked whisper. She hadn’t wanted to share this news, tempted to give herself—give them—a little more time. Now she recognized the fallacy of her thinking. Tye refused to love her.

She didn’t want him unless he did. He was right about that. She did deserve her husband’s love.

Gearing her throat, she tried again. “This morning. I learned…it didn’t…we didn’t. She exhaled a fierce, heavy breath. “I do not carry your child. There is no baby. I’ll move out of Willow Hill immediately.”

“No baby?” Tye repeated in a strangled voice.

“No baby.”

He closed his eyes. Half a minute passed before he said, “It’s over then.”

Tears clogged her throat, so she nodded rather than spoke.
Over
.

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’ll take care of the legalities. Might even be able to get it wrapped up this afternoon. And I don’t want you worrying about leaving Willow Hill. I know Trace won’t mind you staying here as long as you need, and I won’t be here to get in your way. With the baby safely here and everything settled with Trace, I’ll be returning to Charleston just as soon as I can make the arrangements.”

“What about the ranch?” she managed to ask.

He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll deed it over to the Blessings. Never was all that het up about ranching anyway.”

After that, there seemed little left to say. They stood awkwardly for a moment, then Claire said, “I think I’ll go up and check on the girls. They might need a little attention right about now.”

“Good idea.”

Claire picked up her skirts and all but dashed from the room, bumping into Trace as she went about it. “Excuse me,” she said, glancing up at him, fighting back her tears.

He was staring past her into the parlor, his scowl filled with disgust and focused on his brother. “You have no need for excuses, honey,” Trace gently replied. “Not like somebody else I know.”

Kiss your true love every morning to ward off bad luck for the day
.

CHAPTER 21

THE LEGAL PAPERS LAY like a carcass on Tye’s bed. All they lacked was Claire’s signature to make them official.

It had taken three days to iron out the details of the dissolution of his marriage. Not the legal details, those had been easy. The difficult part was arranging matters so that he could leave town—leave Claire—without triggering the townspeople’s superstitions and ruining The Confectionary’s business all over again.

In order to preserve the legends of the Magical Wedding Cake and the Good Luck Wedding Dress, Tye had requested another interview with the doyenne of Fort Worth gossip, Wilhemina Peters. With a clever mixture of truth and fiction, he’d explained away the marriage by calling it a marriage in name only that Claire kindly and generously consented to in order to save the Blessings from a fate worse than death—going to live with their maternal grandparents. He’d heaped honest praise upon Claire’s name and cast wicked aspersions upon the Wests. He explained how the legend of the Donovan Magical Wedding Cake remained intact because Reid Jamieson had acted out of greed rather than love when he proposed marriage to Claire, and that an argument could be made that the cake had, in fact, protected her, leaving her free to someday meet her true love, her destiny. He’d enlisted the aid of Jenny and Trace, and by the time Wilhemina left Willow Hill, she was ready to declare Claire Donovan McBride the compassion queen of Texas and most eligible woman in the state.

Tye figured men would soon be lining up in front of The Confectionary with masculine versions of cream pies and chocolate cakes.

He could now leave town with a clear conscience. Too bad he couldn’t do it without leaving what functioned as his heart behind.

He set his valise upon the bed next to the annulment papers and started packing. He didn’t intend to take much with him. Experience had taught him physical reminders made the memories more difficult to handle. Somehow, though, the case filled up quickly with mementos like drawings and snips of pigtail ribbons and even a program from the night the Fort Worth Literary Society had hosted a spelling bee.

Tye shut the case and was buckling the strap as his brother marched into the room. “Are you sure you want to leave this way, Tye?”

Actually, he didn’t want to leave at all. “I have to go.”

“Do you know my daughters are downstairs bawling their eyes out? I never have taken kindly to anyone who makes my little Menaces cry.”

“Blessings. I told you, Trace, you shouldn’t call them Menaces. It might affect them as they grow up, make them think poorly of themselves.”

Sarcasm dripped from Trace’s reply. “Well we can’t have a member of this family thinking poorly about himself, now can we?”

“Let it go, Trace,” Tye said quietly.

“You’ve already let go, Brother.” Trace walked to the window and gazed outside. “You are making a huge mistake.”

“Look, you don’t know the particulars.”

“I know enough. I eavesdropped on your parlor conversation with your wife the day Billy was born. I think it’s likely I found it more enlightening than poor Claire.” Turning, he folded his arms and faced his brother. “Do you know you always intimidated me, Tye?”

“What?”

“It’s true. From the time we were boys. I used to tell myself I felt that way because you were older than me.”

“By all of a handful of minutes,” Tye drawled.

“In my heart I knew it wasn’t true. You intimidated me because you were my mirror image, but I wasn’t nearly as brave as you.”

“Brave?” Tye scoffed. “I hardly think so.”

“You were always the risk taker. You climbed higher in the trees, swam out farther in the ocean.” Lips twitching in a smile, he added, “The first to bed a woman.”

“I think that should be considered a tie. Mrs. Watson and her twin fantasy. I wonder what ever happened to her? Didn’t she go North before the War?”

Trace ignored the bait. “Somewhere along the way, you stopped taking risks. It didn’t happen during the War. You were the most foolhardy soldier in our regiment. I saw your back on every charge we made. Never had time to be scared for myself during battle because I was so busy being scared for you. I still to this day have nightmares about the time you went after that live grenade.”

“Get to the point, Trace. I have a train to catch.”

Again his brother ignored him. “I think it started after the War, when the memories started getting to you.”

“You mean when the bottle started getting to me,” Tye said, yanking at the strap on his brown leather satchel.

“They beat you down, didn’t they? The memories. I heard your nightmares.”

“You lived them, too.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t haunt me the way they did you. You always felt things deeper than I did, Tye. I think it was part of that risk-taking edge of yours. You always lived just a little bit bigger than me. Half a step…more. I drank to forget, too. But I didn’t have quite as much to forget, so I didn’t drink as much as you. That’s when you started to change. I saw timidity in your character for the very first time.”

“Oh, yeah? I was timid as a mouse when I was breaking up barrooms in drunken brawls, wasn’t I?”

“You didn’t sleep for days on end. It wore you down. The War and its aftermath wore you down.” He exhaled in a deep sigh and added, “Then Constance finished you off.”

“Hell, Trace.” Tye feared his voice would crack. “Don’t talk about her. Please.”

“Those risks you took on the battlefield had nothing on the risks you took with her. You took the biggest risk of your life, you believed her lies about me despite your better sense, because you couldn’t bear to see a woman hurt. Not a woman you loved.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did. I knew you did. I saw it long before that night she did her best to steal your soul. So when you thought I was beating her, you took a risk and laid your heart out there for her to stomp on.”

“What I took, Brother dear,” Tye sneered, “was your wife.”

Trace smiled sadly. “What you did that night was give part of yourself away, that last little part that made you more than me.”

Tye blew a dismissing breath. “This conversation makes me think you’ve lost a chunk of your brain.”

“I had thought when you came here to Fort Worth, when you saved my Jenny from that damned Big Jack Bailey, that you had begun to reclaim that part you had lost. When I learned of everything you had done for my children, I thought you’d finally cauterized the wound. But then I listened to that rot you told Claire down in the parlor the day before yesterday. You haven’t reclaimed squat, Tye. You still won’t take a risk.”

He folded his arms and challenged. “You are still afraid. Not of love. I know you love me and my family. I know you love your wife. But you’re being a selfish son of a bitch. You, Tye McBride, are afraid to let us love you.”

Tye made a grab for the handle of his case. “Why didn’t you tell me that during your runaway years you took time to study psychology?”

“It’s plain as the nose on my face because I’ve been there myself. My love for Jenny required a leap of faith, and thank God when the time came, I wasn’t afraid to make the jump. But you apparently are. The risk-taker twin won’t take the same vault as his brother. That’s a damn shame.”

“I’m leaving now,” Tye said, a band of misery squeezing his chest. He had to get out of here, but his feet wouldn’t move.

Trace continued to talk. “But the worst part about it is the suffering your fear has brought to bear upon a very fine woman. I saw her, Tye. She was tortured, completely devastated by your rejection.”

Tye choked back a silent scream, his brother’s words whipping flesh already raw and bleeding. He grabbed the legal papers with one hand and hoisted his satchel with the other, then headed out the door. “I can’t miss the damned train.”

His brother followed him, his words echoing along the hallway and down the stairs. “You think you’re doing her a good turn, don’t you? You think there is someone else out there for her to love, someone who has never made a mistake. You are wrong Tye. She doesn’t want perfect. She loves you.”

At the front door, Tye paused. “She’ll get over it.”

“Maybe. But will you? I know you still feel bad about betraying me by bedding Constance. What you are doing to Claire is ten times worse than the hurt you caused me and you know it. You wear your guilt poorly now, Tye. Claire is a damn fine woman whose only mistake was to love you. Think of how heavy that mantle of guilt is gonna feel in years to come.”

Trace’s words replayed in his head like a nightmare all the way to the train depot. Tye tried his best to shut them out. He already felt bad enough. He didn’t need Trace making it worse.

At the station he bought a ticket then wandered out onto the platform to await the boarding call. A crowd milled, laughing and talking and hugging good-byes. Smoke puffed from the locomotive’s smokestack, as black as Tye’s thoughts.

A home, a family. Claire. His dream. Giving it up was damn near killing him.

Then don’t do it
. The notion whispered through his mind like the devil’s own temptation.

“I have to,” he muttered to himself. It was the right thing to do, the best thing for Claire.

Is it? Or could Trace be right?

A tiny kernel of hope penetrated Tye’s heart as his mind cracked open just enough to give his brother’s argument a moment of consideration.

You’re a selfish son of a bitch. She doesn’t want perfect. She loves you. You are afraid to let us love you
.

Tye scrunched his eyes closed against the blaring glare of the sun. His chest grew tight and he struggled to draw a breath. Hell, he was confused.
You are afraid
. Was that what this was? Not guilt or distrust, but fear? Was he giving up on Claire and on the life she offered out of cowardice? Was he too damned yellow to risk being happy?

The engine’s whistle blew, yanking him from his reverie. The conductor framed his mouth with his hands and yelled, “All aboard!”

The ticket burned a hole in Tye’s pocket Leaving burned a hole in his heart.

Tye shuffled slowly toward the train.

***

EMMA BLEW into the depot ahead of Maribeth, who dragged Ralph on a leash, and Katrina, who carried Spike, both water and fish splashing back and forth in the bowl. They ran straight through the building and back outside to the platform. They stopped short.

The tracks were empty.

“We’re too late,” Emma cried, steepling her hands over her mouth. “The train is already gone. Oh, sisters, we’re too late.”

For a long minute, the three girls stood frozen, staring in horrified shock at the empty track. As if on cue, tears started falling from each girl’s eyes.

“I can’t believe he up and left without telling us goodbye,” Maribeth said with a sniff.

“He left. He really left. I’m so angry at Uncle Tye.” Katrina shifted Spike’s bowl to free one hand, then shoved her thumb in her mouth with a flourish.

Emma slowly shook her head. “I’m worried to death about him.”

Ralph started to whimper, and Maribeth reached down to pet him. “Em, you don’t think Uncle Tye thought we didn’t need him anymore because Papa and Mama are home, do you?”

“Uncle Th-ye’th not that th-upid,” Katrina sobbed around her thumb. “He knowth we love him.”

Emma nodded, wiping her tears with her sleeve. “And he knows we need him desperately. A papa is one thing, but an uncle is something else entirely.”

“That’s right,” Mari agreed, her silent tears spilling in wet circles on her blouse. “We simply can’t do without him. If Uncle Tye isn’t here, who’s going to give us candy when we shouldn’t have it? Who will buy us toys at the mercantile for no reason. And most important of all, who will help us hide our mischief from Papa?”

“We’ve got to go after him, sisters.” Emma insisted, angrily wiping at her eyes.

“But how?” Katrina wailed. “What do we do?”

Maribeth tugged a wad of paper from her pocket and blew her nose. “Does anybody know where he went?”

“Nowhere.”

The masculine voice sounded from directly behind them. The girls whirled around. Leaning against the depot wall, his suitcase on the ground beside him, stood Uncle Tye.

The two younger sisters gasped. Emma doubled up her fist and punched him in the stomach.

His eyes bulged and his chin dropped. “Emmaline Suzanne! I can’t believe you hit me.”

“Well I can’t believe you were running away!”

“It didn’t happen. I couldn’t make myself get on the train.”

“Well it’s a good thing,” she scolded. “Otherwise we’d have had to chase you down and drag you back by the pigtails just like our papa does us.”

Their uncle grinned and tugged at the ends of his hair. “Pigtails, huh? Guess I do need a trim.”

With him standing safe and sound in front of her face, Emma started to calm down. It took an effort. She kicked at a small stone beside her foot and said, “This was mean of you, Uncle Tye. Really, really mean. Do you know how worried we were?”

“Yeah,” Maribeth piped up. “You didn’t even tell us good-bye. Is this any way to treat family?”

“You even broke Ralph’s heart,” Katrina accused.

Tye glanced down at the dog. “I did? How can you tell?”

“ ‘Cause he’s crying!” Maribeth yelled, showing him her fiercest scowl. “Just like Emmie’s crying and Kat’s crying and I’m crying. Mama’s crying, too, and baby Billy, although all he ever does is cry.”

“And pee and poop,” Kat added.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if Papa cried, either,” Mari continued, putting her fists on her hips and glaring up at him. “And what about poor Auntie Claire? You think we’ve been crying buckets? You should see her. We’ve been watching her from the peephole. Why, she can hardly bake for all her crying. You’ve been very bad, Uncle Tye. You shouldn’t have made her cry. That’s not how you treat someone you love.”

Tye looked away. He stood without moving, staring out at the train tracks for what seemed like a very long time. Emma and Maribeth shared a worried glance. He had a funny, strangled sort of look on his face.