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As Matt guided her up the walkway, Rachel prepared to pledge her future to the love of her life. For better or worse. In sickness and health. Through good times and bad.
At that moment she simply couldn’t imagine anything but a lifetime of good.
CHAPTER ONE
I’M NOT SURE what’s worse. Losing someone you’ve known all your life or a loved one you never knew at all.
After thirteen years of marriage, Matt Boyd finally knew the answer to the question Rachel had posed on their wedding day—both were equally bad.
Steeped in despair, he sat alone in the barren nursery with his back against the wall, a miniature baseball glove in one hand, a glass of smooth Kentucky bourbon in the other. He visually tracked the multicolored wild horses that ran along the pale blue wall, each one carefully painted by his wife. Then his gaze came to rest on the black letters stenciled above the empty space where the crib had been.
Caleb. His son.
He’d known him for only a few short hours. He’d known his son’s mother much of his life. Now both were gone. Four months ago his child had left this world at the cruel hand of nature. A month ago Rachel had left because he’d given her little choice. Or so she’d said the day she walked out on him.
Since that time, he’d awoken every morning in their bed and reached for her. The space beside him was always empty, exactly as he felt right now. He’d tried to convince himself her absence was only temporary. After all, most of her clothes still hung in the closet, and her shoes still lined the shelves. Everything in this house that they’d built together reminded him of her.
Turning to the bottle had been the only thing to help tune out the memories of her bitter accusations. Maybe he was an emotionally closed-off bastard. Maybe lately he did drink too much. Maybe he was unreadable. Unredeemable. But disposing of their marriage like yesterday’s news made her pretty damn unredeemable, too.
After coming to his feet, Matt set the glove on the vacant shelf, left the room and stood in the hallway outside the master bedroom. He raised the almost empty glass for a toast to his estranged wife. “Congratulations on running home to your daddy, darlin’.”
After he downed the rest of the whiskey that burned as badly as the unshed tears, Matt hurled the tumbler with the force of his fury. Shards of crystal rained down the closed door in splinters and shattered the silence. He stared at the scattered glass, hating his total lack of control. He had a good mind to leave the mess, but Rachel would be madder than a wet hen if he did. Like she was there to notice.
He gathered the largest pieces of crystal in his open palm and headed down the hall toward the kitchen, muttering a few oaths aimed at his stupidity, followed by a few indictments of his wife. So what if she’d left for good? He could get by without her. No use having her around if she didn’t want to be there. Goodbye and good riddance.
Still, when the doorbell chimed, the same old hope came calling again. Hope that she’d come to her senses and wanted to reconcile, canceling every negative thought he’d entertained only moments before. His fist automatically tightened, jabbing a jagged glass edge into his thumb. The cut stung like a scorpion bite, but he didn’t care. He cared only about getting to the door before she turned and left.
Then again, he didn’t want to seem too eager, so he tossed the fragments into the trash, turned on the kitchen faucet to rinse the trickle of blood from his finger and finally made his way to the front door after the third ring.
But he didn’t find Rachel waiting on the threshold—only a good friend he hadn’t seen in a while.
Sam McBriar had always been the serious type, and he seriously looked as if he might be on a mission. “Got a few minutes to spare?” he asked.
Matt mentally ran through a laundry list of excuses not to let him in, but the questions about his and Rachel’s recent breakup were inevitable. Might as well get it over with. “Sure. Come on in.”
He stepped aside and guided Sam through the great room to the dinette adjacent to the kitchen. “Sit,” he said as he gestured toward a chair.
Sam grabbed a seat and surveyed the take-out boxes from the local diner and the crumpled beer cans spilling out from the overflowing garbage can. Then his gaze came to rest on the open whiskey bottle set out on the counter. “Did you tie one on last night and fire the maid in the process?”
Matt pulled out the chair opposite Sam and collapsed into it. “Yeah, I know. I’m a freakin’ cliché. Wife leaves husband. Husband wallows in self-pity and garbage.”
“And booze?”
No sense in denying the obvious. “I have a couple of beers after work, just like I always have.”
“But you’ve been hittin’ the hard stuff today.” Sam posed the comment as a statement of fact, not a question.
“It’s Saturday.” The only legitimate excuse he could come up with. “I don’t have any calves to pull or colicky mares I have to treat. Besides, I only had one drink.”
Sam made a show of checking his watch. “It’s barely past noon.”
Matt’s anger began to simmer right below the surface. “Who died and made you my guardian?”
“I’m not telling you what to do, Matt,” he said. “I’m just questioning why you feel the need to drink whiskey after what you’ve been through with your dad.”
His friend could have gone all day without mentioning that sorry subject. “Look, I’m not my dad. I’m not hanging out in the bars every night and getting so drunk that I can’t work. I still put in ten-hours-plus a day down at the clinic. I see no harm in having a drink now and then. Nothing better to do.”
Sam shook his head. “Man, this isn’t like you at all. You’ve always been a scrapper, ready to fight for what you want. You’re never gonna get her back if you just sit around feeing sorry for yourself.”
The chance that Rachel was going to come back grew slimmer every day. “I can’t make her do something she doesn’t want to do. And right now she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
His friend sat quietly for a few moments before he said, “Tell you what. Chase gets off patrol at seven. We’ll pick you up and do a little night fishing at Potter’s Pond. That way you’ll have something to do, at least tonight.”
Matt could see several flaws in that plan. “First of all, Rachel’s dad owns that place, and if he knows I’m there, he’s going to have me hauled into jail. Secondly, I can’t imagine your fiancée and Chase’s wife letting you take off for a fishing expedition without them. Lastly, I’m not interested in fishing today.”
Sam held up his hand and counted down, one finger at time. “First of all, Wainwright isn’t going to know we’re there, and if he finds out, we’ll have the law with us. Secondly, Savannah’s making an afternoon trip to Memphis with Jess and your wife to take care of some wedding stuff. Lastly, you need to get out of this house even if you don’t want to bait a hook.”
Matt could just imagine the conversation going on between Rachel and her friends. No doubt he was the featured topic. “I’ll think about it.”
Sam pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m not taking no for an answer. We’ll be here around seven-thirty. Just bring your pole, and Chase can take care of the bait. I’ll bring the hot dogs.”
Maybe getting out of the house for a little male camaraderie wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It did beat trying to find something decent on TV, or staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. “Okay, but I’ll meet you there on the chance the fish aren’t biting.”
“It’s April. They’ll be biting.”
“I’m still going to bring my truck.” In case his friends took it upon themselves to lecture him about saving his marriage. “And I’ll bring the beer.”
Sam frowned. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
Damn if the guy wasn’t treating him like some worthless reprobate. “We’ve always had beer on hand before. I’ll only bring a six-pack. That’s two apiece. No one’s going to get drunk on that.”
“Fine. Only two apiece. That’ll keep us all out of hot water.”
Maybe for Sam and Chase, but not Matt. He’d been up to his ears in hot water with his wife for weeks. Tonight he planned to relax and forget all about his problems. Forget that Rachel had left him high and dry. Forget that he harbored a four-month-old secret that kept him drowning in guilt. A secret that could destroy everything, especially the woman he loved.
* * *
BABIES EVERYWHERE SHE TURNED.
Even in a wedding salon, Rachel Boyd couldn’t escape the reminders of what she’d lost four months ago. A woman pushing a stroller down the sidewalk had just stopped before the picture window, leaned over and picked up a precious baby girl. The infant appeared to be around the same age Caleb would have been had he lived. But he hadn’t, and each day without him renewed her pain. Every moment without his father had been just as painful.
This was also the last place to forget her faltering marriage. The small boutique was filled to the max with giddy brides-to-be looking forward to their future. She, on the other hand, had no idea what her future might bring. But for the sake of one of her best friends, she pretended to be enjoying the outing.
Rachel glanced at the dressing-room door, anxiously awaiting Savannah’s appearance in her newly altered wedding gown. After a few more minutes ticked off, she regarded Jess, her other best friend and former sister-in-law, who seemed to be nodding off in the purple paisley chair. “What is taking her so long?”
Jess opened her eyes and hid a yawn behind her hand. “I have no idea. I swear it took me less time to plan my whole wedding.”
Considering Jess had pulled the New Year’s ceremony together in just short of three days, Rachel had to agree. “If she doesn’t come out soon, I’m going in there.”
Her friend yawned again. “I’m right behind you.”
She wouldn’t be surprised if Jess fell asleep on the way to see about the bride. “You need to tell your husband to lay off and let you get some rest.”
Jess grinned. “Why would I do that when I’m married to a gorgeous, sexy guy like Chase? But seriously, my fatigue has a lot to do with the school year ending in less than two months. Try containing twenty-two second graders who have summer vacation on their minds. It’s a good thing I like kids.”
Rachel liked kids, too. A lot. Yet it didn’t seem to be in the cards for her to have one of her own. As usual, the soul-deep sadness returned, and the nagging tears weren’t far behind.
Fortunately, Savannah emerged from the dressing room, providing a much-appreciated distraction, and a little nip of envy. Rachel had worn a simple Sunday-best white dress on her wedding day, not a formfitting, satin, halter-style gown with a silver beaded sash at the waist. Funny, that hadn’t mattered way back then, so it certainly shouldn’t matter now. For some reason, it did.
Savannah stepped in front of the three-way mirror and twisted her blond hair back at her nape. “So what do you two think?”
Rachel managed a generous smile around the memory barrage of her own simple wedding. “You look dazzling, girlfriend.”
“Sam is going to have a stroke when he sees you in that,” Jess said. “Guess I better brush up on my CPR skills.”
Savannah turned and looked over a shoulder to study her reflection, then frowned. “Are you sure it doesn’t make my hips look too wide?”
Jess rolled her eyes. “What hips? If you want to see a butt, step aside and let me in front of that mirror. We’ll make a comparison.”
“Enough about butts,” Rachel said. “Are we finished with everything here?” She hadn’t meant to sound so cross, but she truly needed to get away from “wedding central.”
Jess checked her watch. “It’s almost six and I’m starving. We should have dinner while we’re in Memphis. They have some fantastic restaurants on Beale Street.”
Rachel only wanted to go home, not wade through the masses out for a good time on a Saturday night. “I’m wearing jeans, which isn’t really appropriate dinner attire. And isn’t your husband expecting you to be back by now?”
“We’re all wearing jeans,” Jess said. “We don’t have to go to a four-star restaurant, and my husband is on deputy duty until seven, not to mention we haven’t been apart since we married. You know what they say about absence and the heart growing fonder.”
“Dinner works for me, since I told Sam we might be late,” Savannah added right when someone’s cell began to ring.
After Rachel and Jess checked their phones, Jess lifted Savannah’s purse from the floor and held it up. “It’s yours. And if that sappy love-song ringtone is any indication, it’s the groom.”
“It is.” Savannah took the cell from Jess, flipped it open and smiled. “Hey, honey. I was just about to call you…I know, I miss you, too… .”
Savannah disappeared back into the dressing room to talk to her fiancé, leaving Jess and Rachel alone to wait it out again.
Rachel wished she’d brought her own car so she could make a speedy exit. Wished she didn’t feel so ready to jump the bridal-party ship. “Let’s hope this conversation doesn’t detain us any longer than necessary.” When Jess didn’t respond, she glanced over to find her looking somewhat pale and slightly alarmed. “Are you okay, Jessica?”
Jess muttered, “No,” slapped her hand over her mouth and rushed into the nearby ladies’ room.
Rachel hated that Jess might be coming down with something, but on the other hand, it could mean the evening would be cut short. She truly wasn’t in the right frame of mind to endure a lengthy dinner. And some friend she was—worrying about her own mental condition when Jessica was obviously in distress. Just as she was about to check on her fellow bridesmaid, Jess came out of the restroom looking as jubilant as she’d been most of the afternoon. Her auburn hair, pulled back in a high ponytail, bobbed in time to her peppy gait. The former head cheerleader had returned.
“Something you ate for lunch?” Rachel asked as soon as Jess reclaimed the seat beside her.
Jess kept her eyes trained on the row of gowns to their left. “It probably has to do with not eating. My stomach doesn’t like being empty these days.”
Funny, they’d had lunch less than five hours ago. Rachel could think of only one explanation for her friend’s intestinal distress. “Are you pregnant?”
Jess still refused to look at her. “What makes you think that?”
She released a frustrated sigh. “Come on, Jessica. You’ve been yawning all day and now you’re throwing up. All signs point to morning sickness.”
Jess looked more than a little sheepish when she finally met Rachel’s gaze. “It’s afternoon.”
“That doesn’t mean a thing. When I was pregnant with Caleb, I hurled morning, noon and sometimes night. So are you or aren’t you?”
“Hungry?”
Heavens, this was like passing a bill through Congress. “Pregnant. Knocked up. With child.”
Jess looked apologetic. “All the above. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I didn’t want to upset you.”
Rachel had grown weary of being treated with kid gloves, and she certainly expected more from her friends. “My own loss doesn’t mean I can’t be thrilled for you and Chase. I am happy, Jess. Honestly.” She could only hope she sounded sincere. Yes, she was happy for her friends, and slightly jealous. She absolutely detested her petty feelings and vowed to keep her personal issues in check.
A few moments of awkward silence passed before Rachel went for a subject change. “How does Danny feel about having a new brother or sister?”
“We haven’t told him yet,” Jess said. “He’s been through so much over the past few months. Dealing with causing Dalton’s injuries, Dalton going to prison for trying to kill me, learning Chase is his real dad. Do we sound like a soap opera or what?”
Rachel hated what her brother had put Jess and her son through. A twenty-five-year prison sentence might not be long enough atonement time for Dalton. “High drama or not, that’s a lot for an adult to handle, much less a nine-year-old boy.”
“Yeah, but he’s been working through everything with the counselor. Luckily he loves Chase so much, the transition hasn’t been bad at all.”
Just one more loss Rachel had endured. Learning Danny wasn’t her biological nephew had been tough, but he was much better off with Chase than with her worthless brother. “I’m glad he’s doing so well. I’d love to see him at some point in time.”
“He’s mentioned a few times that he wants to visit Uncle Matt and Aunt Rachel. And speaking of Matt, when are the two of you going to call a truce so you can move back home?”
Her gal pal was nothing if not blunt. “Until he’s willing to talk about our problems and stop drinking, I’m staying right where I am.” Living alone at her father’s guesthouse in a constant state of confusion, crying herself to sleep most nights.
Jess laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t wait too long before you work things out. Take it from me, time is a precious resource that once it’s gone, you can’t get back. Just think of all the years I wasted.”
“That’s different,” Rachel said. “Chase was off fighting a war, and you were married to my brother. It wasn’t possible for the two of you to be together during that ten-year span.”
“If I hadn’t stayed in a marriage that was a dead end in the beginning, I wouldn’t have squandered that time.”
The comment threw Rachel. “Are you saying I should divorce Matt?”
Jess looked appalled. “Heavens, no. Dalton was a jerk and Matt is a great guy. I’m saying life’s too short to let pride or fear or stubbornness keep you from being happy. You and Matt have so much invested in your marriage, I know you can work it out if you try.”
Rachel understood what her friend was saying, but lately she hadn’t been at all pleased with her husband’s behavior. She hadn’t been happy with much of anything since the day she lost her child and hadn’t been given the opportunity to say goodbye. Oddly, when the tragedy should have brought them closer together, it had only driven them apart.
Savannah returned once more, fully clothed with her wedding dress bagged and draped over one arm. “Change of plans for the evening regarding dinner.”
“I have to eat soon,” Jess said, sounding borderline desperate. “This baby is determined to be fed on a regular basis.”
Savannah’s eyes went wide. “Jessica!”
Jess waved a dismissive hand at Savannah. “Calm down, Savvy. She figured it out after I tossed my cookies a few minutes ago.”
“Oh.” Savannah sent Rachel a sympathetic look. “Are you all right?”
