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Link stirred. “You agree that our case would be stronger if we were married.”
“I can’t advise you to marry in an effort to deceive the court.” Chet said the words as if he walked on eggshells. “On the other hand, if you marry because you’re fond of each other and because you want to provide security for a child you both love, I think that could tip the scales in your favor.”
Link glanced at her, his dark eyes seeming to say he’d told her so.
Well, he couldn’t blame her for exploring every possibility, could he? Knowing Link, he probably could. He’d never had much patience with her passion for details.
“Also, there’s the fact that Ms. Gideon is living in the Conrad house, already taking care of the child,” the attorney went on. “I hate to bring up the old saw about possession, but it does make the judge less likely to order a change that could be upsetting to the baby.”
Link’s jaw tightened. “I suspect that was what Frank had in mind yesterday. If he’d gotten his hands on Marcy—”
Annie suppressed the shudder that moved through her. In those frightening moments, when she’d actually feared the Lesters would snatch Marcy from her arms, she’d turned to Link.
She needed help. Hard though it was to accept, she couldn’t do this alone.
“Either way, the best thing is to set up a hearing before the judge as quickly as possible, before the Lesters take any other action.” The attorney stood, looking at them with concern in his face. “I’ll leave you alone to discuss it for a few minutes.”
He crossed the room, his footsteps making little sound on the plush carpet. The door closed softly behind him.
She had to stop collecting options and make a decision. However much she might have resented it in the past, she knew that Link’s loyalty had always been to Davis. If that loyalty extended to his daughter, maybe that was all she could ask.
“It’s not easy, is it.”
She met Link’s gaze, startled, to find that he was looking at her with sympathy.
“No.” She tried to swallow the lump that refused to leave her throat in spite of the fact that she’d cried every tear she had to shed in the past few days. “I spent most of the night praying about it. Maybe this is the only answer, but how can I take vows I don’t mean?”
Link’s hand tightened to a fist on the polished mahogany arm of the chair. “Don’t you think I have qualms about that?”
“I didn’t know it mattered to you.” She had assumed, when he’d stood next to her as godparents to the baby, that he believed, but she hadn’t probed deeper than that.
“It does.” He clipped the words off, his face grim. “You’re not the only person to struggle with this, Annie.”
She tried to smile. “Are you getting any answers?”
“I don’t pretend to be a great theologian—”
He leaned toward her, and she felt the intensity of his belief reaching out to her.
“—but I am sure it would be a greater wrong to let that baby go to people who don’t care about her than to marry for reasons other than love.”
His words shot straight to her heart. She’d never expected to find the kind of all-consuming love Becca and Davis had. If marrying Link saved their baby, perhaps that was reason enough.
“If…if we do this, how long would our marriage have to last?”
Link frowned. “I don’t know. But I’m not involved with anyone else, so I’m in no hurry. And from what Becca has said about you, I’m assuming you’re not in a relationship right now, either.”
The thought of Becca discussing her love life with Link left a bad taste in her mouth. Had her sister thought her an object of pity because she didn’t have a husband and child?
“That’s not really the point.” She kept her voice cool. “I do have a life elsewhere.”
“Once the judge grants custody to us, I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t go ahead with your plans to take Marcy back to Boston. After all, your parents are there and it would be logical for you to want to be near them. I’ll stay here to manage the company. After a reasonable period of time, one of us can file for divorce.”
The image of her cozy apartment in Boston floated in front of Annie’s eyes, a haven from the uncertainty and grief of the past days. She could take care of Marcy there without the constant reminders of her loss.
Marcy threw her black-and-white block, and it bounced harmlessly against the side of the desk. “Down,” she announced, wiggling her way off Annie’s lap.
“Where are you going, little girl?” Link caught her before she could grab the cord and pull the telephone to the floor. “Here, have a look at this.” He handed her his key ring, and Marcy gave him an enchanting smile.
“She has Davis’s smile, you know that?” He touched the baby’s cheek lightly.
Annie glimpsed a sheen of tears in his dark eyes, and the sight disarmed her. It seemed to tear down some of the barricades she held against him.
“Yes, she does,” she said softly.
Link cleared his throat, as if he felt the same tightness she did. “Davis was my best friend. I owe it to him to take care of his child. I don’t know anything about changing diapers, but I’ll do my best to run the company properly and preserve her inheritance. I can’t offer more than that.”
Oddly enough, that glimpse of his grief was reassuring. His concern might be primarily for the company, but it was for the baby’s sake as well as his own.
Link looked at her, his eyebrows lifting in the question he’d been asking all along. “Well, Annie?”
For Marcy, she told herself. For Marcy.
“All right.” She had to force the words out. “I’ll marry you.”
It was his wedding day, and he was on his way to meet his bride. Link grimaced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The three days they’d had to wait once they applied for the license had been an eternity. He’d been constantly on edge, sure something would go wrong—that Annie would back out, that Frank would launch some unexpected offense, anything.
So far, so good. The wedding was today, and the hearing before Judge Carstairs set for tomorrow. Chet seemed as optimistic as an attorney could be. With any luck, this time the next day they’d be safe.
And then? For a moment he couldn’t see beyond the immediate goal. He shook his head. It was very simple. Annie would return to Boston with the baby, and he’d go back to running the company.
He drew up in front of the church and sat for a moment, staring out at the square. The gazebo glinted white through the surrounding trees. The maples, just beginning to change color, advertised the turning of the season. Tragedy happened, but life moved on.
Right now, moving on meant going through with this wedding. He and Annie had an agreement, just like any other business contract. As long as they kept the situation strictly business, no one would get hurt.
He glanced at the florist’s box lying on the passenger seat and jeered at himself. He was breaking his own rules. He hadn’t intended to do that but he’d found himself walking into the florist’s. No matter what had prompted their wedding, a bride should have flowers.
An orchid hadn’t seemed quite right for Annie, and the chrysanthemums the shop had in stock for the high school homecoming were out of the question. He’d settled for a small arrangement of yellow rosebuds, and their delicate aroma filtered through the white cardboard box. Hopefully the very idea of flowers wouldn’t remind her of the funeral.
He caught sight of Chet, hovering outside the church, ready to be their witness. Now or never. He picked up the box, got out of the car and walked across to meet his best man.
“Still sure about this?” Chet raised his eyebrows. He was dressed, like Link, in a dark suit that seemed appropriate for an informal wedding.
“I’m sure.” He pulled open the door to the church offices. “We made arrangements to have the ceremony in Pastor Laing’s study instead of the sanctuary.”
“Too many memories in there, I guess.”
Link nodded, throat tightening again. Too many, and too recent.
The door to the pastor’s study stood open. He stepped inside. Nora Evers, Davis and Becca’s next-door neighbor, held Marcy. An improbable hat perched on Nora’s white hair, and the baby was trying hard to pull off a purple flower.
“Nora, glad you could be here.” They’d needed witnesses, and he’d felt the grandmotherly woman would add a touch of permanence to the proceedings.
Pastor Laing said something welcoming, but Link’s attention was caught by Annie, standing unsmiling in front of the window. She wore a navy business suit with a white blouse, and her shiny brown hair curved in toward her rounded chin. Unlike Nora, she’d apparently seen no reason to wear a hat. She looked cool, severe and businesslike.
Once he’d been challenged by that cool exterior, but in the current circumstances he found it somehow reassuring. Annie looked as if nothing could touch her.
“I guess we should get started.” Pastor Laing picked up a worn black worship book and came around the desk to stand in front of them, his face austere. “If you’re both sure you’re ready.”
“We are,” Link said. He handed Annie the florist’s box.
She looked startled, then opened the box and took out the roses. He couldn’t see her expression, but she clutched the flowers tightly.
They’d talked with Garth Laing at length about this wedding, being carefully honest with him. Link certainly had no intention of lying to a man he respected as much as he did Garth. Maybe they’d left a few things out when they’d discussed their reasons for being married immediately, but if they had, he suspected someone as intuitive as the pastor could read between the lines.
Garth had agreed to marry them, that was the important thing. If they’d gone to a justice of the peace, he wasn’t sure Annie’s resolve would have held up.
Garth glanced from Link’s face to Annie’s. He nodded, as if satisfied with whatever he saw there. Then he began to read the age-old words of the wedding service.
Breathe, Link told himself. All you have to do is remember your responses. That, and hope Annie doesn’t say “I don’t” instead of “I do.”
The preliminaries over, Garth smiled at them. “Please join hands.”
For an instant he thought Annie wouldn’t move. Then she extended her hand.
Her fingers were so cold it was like taking a handful of ice. He clasped her hand in his, trying to warm it, and Annie looked up at him.
Shock ran through him. All that cool composure of hers was a facade. For a moment, he saw the grief and vulnerability in her golden-brown eyes, and the sight shook him to the heart.
Beneath her controlled exterior, Annie was fragile, so fragile. She’d just undergone the most devastating experience of her life, and now she was plunged into something she wouldn’t have dreamed possible a week earlier.
Dealing with Annie right now was like handling high explosives. One false move, and everything he’d naively thought was settled could blow sky high, leaving nothing but pieces.
Garth’s voice paused, and Link realized he had to say his vows. Holding her hands in his, he began.
The ring felt odd on her finger. Annie stood at the dresser in the guest room at Becca’s house, staring down at it. Her hand looked strange—the hand of a married woman.
She took a shaky breath. Hard as it was to believe, they’d actually done this thing. She and Link were husband and wife, legally and in God’s sight.
Did we do the right thing, Father? We honestly tried to determine Your will. Surely it was worth any sacrifice to keep Marcy safe.
Annie knew she’d better finish changing her clothes and get back downstairs. She’d left Marcy with Link, and she wasn’t sure how comfortable he was watching a lively toddler. Marcy’s little hands could move at the speed of light when she wanted something, and Annie was already discovering that she needed faster reflexes to keep up with her.
She pulled on khakis and a camel sweater, ran a brush through her hair and decided that would have to do. On to the next thing.
She and Link had already decided they’d both stay in the house tonight, since they didn’t want to raise any awkward questions with the hearing tomorrow. Link could sleep on the couch in Davis’s office. Being here together was difficult, but it was only for a night.
Once the custody case was settled, the need to look like a married couple would be finished. She’d take Marcy home, and that would be that.
In the meantime, she could certainly cope with the situation for a day or two. This was business, and she knew how to handle business.
The thought comforted her. She went quickly out of the room and down the stairs.
She found Link and Marcy in the family room, where he was trying to dissuade the baby from pulling all the videos out of the cabinet.
“How about playing with the nice blocks, instead?” He sounded harassed.
“She likes just about anything better than her toys, according to Becca.”
Link looked up at her from his prone position on the rug next to Marcy. A smile tilted his lips. “What do you suggest I do about it?”
She had to remind herself not to react to that smile. Business. She walked into the adjoining kitchen and pulled out the drawer her sister had filled with plastic containers and utensils.
“Look, Marcy. Look what Nan has.” She tapped a wooden spoon invitingly on a plastic container.
Marcy dropped a video on Link’s arm and trotted over to grab the spoon away from Annie. She plopped down in front of the drawer.
“Whatever anyone else has, that’s what she wants. Becca called it the toddler’s creed.” Her smile faltered when she seemed to hear her sister’s voice.
Link closed the video cabinet quickly, snapping the safety lock. “Nan? How did you get to be Nan?”
“Aunt Annie is a mouthful. She hasn’t managed it yet.”
He unfolded himself from the floor and walked toward her. Her mouth went suddenly dry. They were alone together. They were married.
He stopped, looking down at the baby. “Speaking of cooking utensils, have you given any thought to supper?”
She stared at him blankly. So much for the efficient, businesslike way she was going to handle things. “No, I guess I haven’t.” She hated admitting to any error. “It never entered my mind.”
“Well, we have to eat. Why don’t you grab a jacket, and I’ll take the two of you out.”
That just seemed to multiply her inefficiency. “Marcy’s going to be tired out soon. I doubt she’d last through a restaurant dinner without a meltdown.”
He looked at the baby with caution, as if anticipating an explosion. “I could pick up some take-out.”
“The freezer’s still full of the food people brought over for the funeral. I’ll microwave something for tonight.”
By tomorrow, she wouldn’t need to feel responsible for Link’s dinner.
“Okay.” He sat down on the floor next to Marcy. “I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re doing that.”
Having Link, in jeans and a dark blue sweater, taking up half the kitchen floor didn’t seem conducive to getting a meal together quickly. Still, it would be worse if she were trying to do it with Marcy underfoot.
She pulled foil-covered dishes from the freezer, setting things onto the pale birch table. For an instant her vision blurred.
Everyone in town must have loved Becca and Davis. Their grief had found expression in their bringing more food than she and Link could possibly eat. It was just as well that she hadn’t thought of cooking anything else.
When the table was set with the floral pottery dishes and blue-and-white napkins, she scooped Marcy up. “Supper time, sweetpea. Let’s see what you like.”
