What Price Paradise (3 page)

She shot a fast glance at Tate, but he had his back to her, making coffee. Tentatively, she picked up a sandwich and nibbled at one corner. When her stomach stayed in place and the world didn’t collapse around her, she took a bigger bite. Her eyes closed in bliss as she chewed. It was a battle not to cram the entire sandwich into her mouth, but she still had her pride.

Even so, by the time he’d finished the coffee, she was almost done with the second sandwich. She stopped long enough to take a drink of milk, and saw his gaze go to the plate. His expression never changed.

“You can stay in my parents’ room. It’s the biggest one in the house. No one’s used it in a few years, so you might want to open the windows and let it air out.”

Abby swallowed another bite. “Where are your parents?”

“Mom died when Buddy was twelve. Dad had a heart attack about two years ago. It’s just been me and Buddy since then.” He nodded toward her now empty plate. “There’s more if you want it.”

Another wave of heat swept over her face. “No thanks. I’m full.” She was, finally. Uncomfortably so. The faster she got out of his presence and into bed, the faster tomorrow would get there and she could leave. She drained the rest of the milk. “I am tired, though.”

“Bedroom is this way.” He put his cup on the table and led her back through the living room and up the stairs, ducking when they reached the top to keep from banging his head on the edge of the floor above. “This is Buddy’s room,” he pointed at the first door on the left. “This one is mine.” It was directly across the hall from his brother’s. “Bathroom is there.” He gestured at the door next to his brother’s.

He opened the door next to his own and ushered her inside, putting the bag he’d picked up in the living room on the bed. “There are sheets and blankets in the cedar chest next to the closet. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks. I will.” She listened to his steps going back down the hall, then turned and looked around her. It was a corner room with windows lining two walls, curtains tied back on either side. Here, the furniture was wood, the bed a huge four-poster, with a dresser and chest to match.

Abby went to the windows and opened them to let the late spring breeze in. The room did smell a little musty. She ran a finger across the top of the dresser then wiped the dust on her jeans. Tate was right. It looked as if no one had been in here in two years.

As soon as the bed was made, she hurriedly undressed and donned her nightshirt. With a sigh, she climbed in and snuggled down under the blanket, the faint scent of cedar drifting up from the sheets and filling her nose. In spite of her unease, a full stomach combined with a long day of work forced her eyes closed. Soon she was sound asleep.

* * * * *

Tate picked up his coffee and carried it out to the back porch, leaning against one of the supporting post as he drank. A square of light from the second floor window illuminated a patch of new spring grass and he watched the shadowed movements of the woman inside as she readied for bed. As soon as the light went out, he stepped off the porch.

Even in the darkness his feet found the well-worn path with no trouble. Lord knew, he’d spent plenty of time following it in the last two years. Every time he had a problem, every time he’d been overwhelmed with running the ranch alone and trying to raise a younger brother, this was where he wound up.

The gate of the white-washed fence squeaked a little as he pushed it open and he made a mental note to oil the hinges.

Thin bars of moonlight created silvery lined shadows on the headstones as he picked his way between them. There weren’t many on the acre that had been set aside for a family plot. His grandparents. Two of his uncles who had died before he was born. A maiden aunt. And his parents.

He squatted next to the newest mound and absently pulled a weed that had sprung up. “Well, Daddy, I got me a real problem this time.” He paused, thinking. “But I guess you know that, don’t you? See, there’s this girl sleeping upstairs in your bed tonight. She’s a stranger, Daddy. I barely know her, but she’s pregnant and it’s my baby. She lives in a worn-out old house, not much more than some boards and a tin roof, but I guess it’s the best she can do, only working two nights a week.”

He lowered one knee to the ground, sitting on his heel, and propped one arm across his other knee. The coffee in his cup had long since cooled. “She’s starved half to death, too. Not that she’d admit it. She wasn’t going to tell me about the baby even though she’s scared out of her mind.” He smiled slightly. “She’s too proud to ever ask for help, keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault. I guess nobody told her the facts of life before. It’s kind of hard to get pregnant all by yourself.”

His smile faded. “You always taught me to take responsibility for my own actions, Daddy, and I’ve tried. But this time, it’s tearing me apart. I know you never cared much for Diane. Just the fact that you never said anything about her told me that much. She may come across as a spoiled rich kid, but deep down she’s just a lost, lonely little girl. Joe was right. She has put me through hell, but I understand why she does it. And I have a responsibility to her, too. Even though she fights it, part of her knows that sooner or later she’ll give in and marry me.” He hesitated and his voice lowered. “I guess what it comes down to is who has the greatest claim on me. I know what I have to do, what the right thing is. I can’t let that girl go through this alone. I’ve known it all along. But it’s not going to be easy, Daddy. Telling Diane is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It’s going to hurt her bad.”

He straightened, his gaze going back to the silent house. For a moment he stood in the moonlight, then with one final look at the grave, he turned and started back. Something else that wasn’t going to be easy was getting Abby to go along with the solution he’d come up with. But the truth was, neither of them had much choice at this point. One thing she hadn’t seemed was stupid. He’d have to put it to her the right way, a way that let her keep her pride intact.

* * * * *

Tate broke another egg into the bacon grease, then eyed the piece of shell that had fallen in with it. He was chasing the fragment of white around the cast iron skillet with a spoon when Buddy clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen. Almost as tall as Tate, if still somewhat on the scrawny side, the sixteen-year-old came to a sliding stop and stared in amazement.

“You’re cooking?”

“I think the right word here would be ‘trying,’” Tate mumbled as he continued to fish for the shell. He finally gave up and grabbed it with his fingers, burning them in the process.

“Would this have anything to do with whoever that is barfing up a lung in the bathroom upstairs?”

“Damn.” Tate dropped the spoon on the countertop and headed out of the room. “Watch the eggs,” he called over his shoulder.

He could hear the sounds of Abby’s distress from down the hall and cringed inside. It was his fault she was in this condition, no matter what she said. Without bothering to knock, he pushed the bathroom door open.

Abby was sitting on the floor, her legs tucked to the side, her forehead resting on the arms she’d propped on the toilet seat. What he could see of her face was pale, with a green tinge. She didn’t as much as twitch while he wet a couple of washcloths in the sink.

Squatting next to her, he folded one and pushed her hair aside to lay it on the back of her neck. “Abby?”

She groaned. “Please. Just go away and let me die in peace.”

“You aren’t going to die, even though it may feel like it right now.” He held out the other cloth. “Here, wipe your face with this.”

Blindly, she reached out and he deposited the wet lump in her hand, watching as she pressed it to her face. “Finished now?”

A weak nod was her only answer.

“Good. Then let’s get you back in bed.”

Suddenly she sat bolt upright, strands of long black hair tumbling across her face. For the first time, he realized she was still wearing a nightshirt, one worn to the point of transparency. She might have been a little on the thin side, but, although small, her breasts were full for their size and plainly visible through the material.

Tate quickly averted his gaze, but not before he saw the tinge of red that stained her cheeks, the involuntary move to cross her arms over her chest. And not before he felt his own body reacting with great enthusiasm.

“I’m fine, really. I don’t need to go to bed. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

He studied her brown eyes, barely visible through the curtain of hair, then nodded. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

Buddy was at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. “The eggs burned, but at least they match the bacon.” He tilted his head toward the stove.

“I told you to watch them.”

“Hey, you don’t see any flames shooting through the roof, do you?”

Tate stared at the congealed mess in disgust, then picked the skillet up and dumped it in the sink. Abby probably wouldn’t feel like eating, anyway, if that episode upstairs was any indication.

“So, are you gonna tell me who you’ve got stashed upstairs?”

There was no doubt Buddy would find out soon, but he wanted the chance to get things settled with Abby before he gave him the details. He couldn’t do that with an audience. He leaned back against the sink and looked at his brother. “I’ll give you a rundown later, but for now, I need a favor.”

“What?”

“Make yourself scarce for a while. It’s your turn to feed the stock anyway. Don’t come back to the house until I come and get you.”

“That serious, huh?” Buddy looked intrigued, but he scooted his chair back and stood. “Okay, but you owe me. Big time.”

The back door closed behind him just as Tate heard Abby’s tentative steps descending the stairs.

He turned when she stopped in the doorway. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, the brown bag once again clutched in both arms. She hadn’t put her hair in a ponytail, but she had combed it back. Her face looked as if she’d scrubbed it to a shine.

“Why don’t you sit down? Think you could eat some toast? Seems like I remember Mom doing that when she was pregnant with Buddy.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that. If you could just give me a ride home…”

Tate ignored her words and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. While they browned he took a glass and a bottle of juice to the table. “We have to talk, Abby.”

“No, we don’t.” Her chin lifted defiantly.

He caught the toast as it popped up and slid it onto a plate. “Yes, we do. You may as well sit down and eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“At least drink the juice. You need it.”

Keeping a wary eye on him, she sat down in front of the glass. “Fine. I’ll drink the juice, but then I want to go home.”

Tate pulled out the chair across from her. “What are your plans?”

“Plans?”

“You’re pregnant, Abby. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

She looked down at her glass. “I guess I’m going to have a baby. I really haven’t had much time to get past that fact yet.” She glanced back up at him. “You don’t have to worry though. I won’t tell anyone it’s yours. Maybe I can move to another town before anyone even finds out.”

“So, you’ve got enough money to rent a place and hold you over until the baby comes?”

“If I had that much money I’d have left this town a long time ago. Maybe Pete will let me start working more nights. I could save everything extra I make for the next few months.”

“Abby, you and I both know you couldn’t save enough money if you worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And that’s even if Pete does have the extra time, which I doubt. Rent is expensive and medical bills are worse. No one is going to hire you when they find out you’re pregnant, so you won’t even be able to get a job. Then, after the baby comes, you’ll have to feed it, take care of it. If you do find a job, you’ll have to pay someone to baby-sit.”

Abby remained silent, but her face went two shades whiter and her grip on the glass tightened.

Tate waited a beat. “I don’t think you should go back to work at Delly’s. It’s too hard on you and you don’t make enough money to survive anyway. You’ve got to think about the baby now, not just yourself.”

Her eyes shot to his face and he could see the anger filling them.

“I suppose you think it would be better for me to get thrown out of my house and starve to death? That would really help the baby, wouldn’t it? Why is it so hard for you to understand that I need that job? It’s not much, but it’s all I have. I can’t lose it.”

“What if I could offer you a better job? It doesn’t pay much, but you get room and board and all your medical bills will be covered. And after the baby is born, you’ll be able to take care of it yourself.”

“A job?” The anger in her eyes subsided, changed to a look of puzzlement. “But I don’t know anything about ranching. I’ve never even had a pet.”

“Ranching wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Then what did you have in mind?”

Tate looked up and held her gaze. “A wife. My wife.”

The glass of juice crashed to the table, spilling the contents everywhere while Abby stared at him in shock. “Oh, God. You’re crazy, aren’t you?” she whispered.