“As abridged a one as possible.”

  “Agreed.” He waited.

  He wasn’t being much help here. And there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about that.

  Her knuckles were white where she was clasping her hands together in her lap. “You’re her father.”

  He nodded.

  “That’s my version.”

  Nothing there he could argue with.

  “Where did we meet?”

  “In Kentucky.”

  He could see where the truth came in handy.

  “When?”

  Eyes clouded, she glanced over at him. “During the holidays?” Her voice was a little higher than normal.

  And suddenly John felt like a total jerk. Here he was worried about answering to his friends, people who knew and respected him. People he knew would support him, regardless. He got up from the chair and sat beside her. Reaching out, he smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The almost imperceptible movement of her jaw against his hand spoke volumes to him.

  “I’ll stand beside you every step of the way, Caroline,” he assured her, even while he wondered how he was going to find the strength to do that. Not because he was in any way ashamed of her, or embarrassed by her, but because he was so completely averse to ever being attached again.

  And the minute this came out, people were going to think…

  “We’ll tell them it was a whirlwind courtship,” he said with conviction.

  “They’ll think we’re a couple.” The horror in her voice almost had him doubting the clarity he’d arrived at.

  “Yes.”

  “But we aren’t.”

  “I know.”

  She was frowning, but the lost look was gone from her eyes. “We don’t want to be.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s not the truth, then, is it?”

  He took a deep breath. Thought for a minute. “Would you prefer to tell them we had wild sex all night long the first time we met and then never intended to see each other again?”

  She blushed. And John wanted to kiss her.

  He stood instead. Went to get a beer. Took several deep swallows. He’d planned to remain standing until they got through this and he could usher her to the door. But when she tilted her head to peer up at him, he sat down beside her.

  “We are a couple in a sense,” he told her. “We’re partners in a very intimate process here. And we’ll continue to be partners for the rest of our lives.”

  “But we don’t live together.”

  “That can be remedied.”

  “No!” Caroline shook her head, leaning away from him while staring straight at him.

  “I didn’t mean like that,” he quickly said, though he wasn’t sure how much truth the statement held.

  The day, the video, the weekend, the memories of that night in December were all ganging up on him, attacking him with nonsensical possibilities and half-crazed emotions.

  “No.”

  She wasn’t going to budge.

  “I have plenty of room here. You’d have your own room. For that matter, you could have your own side of the house.”

  “No.”

  “Okay, so we’re together, but not getting married yet.”

  “We aren’t ever getting married.”

  “Anything’s possible.” He didn’t mean that, was just trying point out the truth in his story.

  “John? I can’t marry you.” Caroline had never sounded so certain of anything. For a woman who hardly ever seemed to stand up for herself, that statement was particularly effective.

  Which relieved him. Greatly. He thought.

  “I know,” he said softly, his heart—what he had left of it—going out to her as she sat there, pregnant with his baby. Alone. Defenseless.

  “We’re too different. I’ve made that mistake before, marrying a man who wasn’t like me. It’s damaging. No matter how much I loved Randy, it was never enough to make up for the differences between us. The last time this happened to me, I got married and I’m not sure it was the best thing for any of us. I might have repeated part of the mistake, but I’m not going to repeat the rest of it. I can’t.”

  With a hand around her jaw, John moved a little closer to her, turned her to face him. “It’s okay,” he continued, the words coming from someplace inside he was hardly aware of. “I’m not suggesting we be anything other than what we are. I’m only trying to give us a safe place in which to exist while we bring our daughter into the world.”

  Her eyes glistened, and he thought she might cry, but she didn’t.

  “You know what it’s like in a small town, Caroline,” he said, rubbing a thumb along her temple. He’d forgotten how soft her skin was. And how silky without the makeup he was used to finding on women’s skin. “If it looks as if we aren’t headed on a happy course, everyone in Shelter Valley will be wanting to give us advice. And because you’re new to town, you’ll unfortunately be the one who’ll be blamed for making the untraditional choices.”

  He’d been engaged not too long ago. His friends all assumed he wanted to get married again. They were sure it was what he needed.

  “We can be a couple until after the baby’s born, and then break up. How would that be?”

  She gazed up at him for so long, John had no idea what to expect.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “OKAY.”

  Caroline knew she was going to regret the decision she’d just made. Possibly more than any other decision she’d ever made.

  John’s plan made complete sense. Try as she might, she couldn’t find any loopholes. Or a better way. And still, she knew she was walking straight into a pit of flames….

  “Don’t look like that.” His voice was thick.

  His thumb was hypnotizing in its soft heat against her temple. “Like what?”

  “Like you just found out you have a terminal disease.”

  It was how she felt. But that made no sense at all. He’d said they’d break up as soon as Sara was born. Five more months. It was no time at all.

  “I’m scared.” It was the most honest thing she’d ever said, exposing a part of herself that had been hidden from the time she was seven years old.

  “I know,” he said, his tongue briefly licking his lower lip. “I am, too.”

  Though neither of them spoke, she continued to stare at him, almost as though she could read something in his eyes that he couldn’t say. And that she couldn’t translate into words.

  His head came closer and she let herself sink into that look, taking an odd comfort in the feelings he was arousing. Caroline gave comfort. She didn’t often take it. Didn’t know how to take it.

  And when John’s lips touched hers, she just kept taking. His touch was soft, warm, tender—a simple caress against her closed mouth. Until she opened it—and started giving.

  “STOP.” CAROLINE HAD no idea how much time had passed or even realized that she’d said the word, except that she’d felt its rawness scrape her throat. “We can’t…”

  She couldn’t. Not again. She’d lost herself in this man’s arms once. She couldn’t do it again. She just couldn’t. At some point she had to learn from her mistakes.

  If she didn’t start now, it might be too late.

  And she had—would have—a daughter who’d be needing a mother soon.

  “I’m sorry.” His forehead rested against hers. He was breathing as heavily as she was.

  “Don’t apologize.”

  Slowly they pulled apart. Caroline wanted to stand, to leave. Her legs needed a second or two.

  “Why did you do that?” Asking wasn’t polite. Or even particularly nice. But she had to know. Had to understand. The agonizing and second-guessing that would result if she didn’t would be too excruciating.

  “I don’t know.”

  A blank wall. She hated those. She nodded, still shaky, and picked up the videotape he’d brought over earlier. Then she managed to stand.

  “It’s probably a good thing it happened, though,” he said, surprising the heck out of her. How could he think that had been good? For either of them?

  Deliriously sexy, maybe. Dangerous, of course. Neither of which ranked as a good thing in her book.

  “For the next five months we’re going to be a couple to my friends,” John explained, standing, too. “They’re going to expect to see some affection between us.”

  “Or start giving us that advice we’re hoping to avoid.” She was beginning to understand the ramifications of what they’d taken on.

  For a very short time, she’d be appearing in John’s circle—conversing, socializing, pretending. In Phyllis’s circle. Her sister was going to know that she was pregnant with an illegitimate baby. Not that it wasn’t bound to happen anyway, since she’d be showing before the semester was through. But now, with John standing beside her, the pregnancy didn’t feel quite as shameful. They all liked and respected him. He was one of them.

  One thing was for certain. She’d have to spend some of her carefully guarded funds to buy some new clothes to supplement what John had bought her. “I’ll go shopping for more fashionable clothes over the weekend,” she told him.

  “I’ll take you.”

  She shook her head. They’d been that route before. “This is something I need to do for myself, John.” Partially so she could do it at some bargain-basement place. She’d look on the Internet for one of those shops that sold seconds. Surely she could find some outfits with flaws that wouldn’t be too obvious.

  And partially because she’d never even dared to think about spending money on a fashionable outfit. She wanted to savor the experience without having to worry about looking like a wide-eyed bumpkin when she saw herself in the mirror.

  He walked her to the door. Opened it. “There’s a barbecue on Saturday at Will and Becca’s. It’d be a good time for us to break our news.”

  She stepped out into the night, thankful for the cool air on her skin. She couldn’t breathe. “Will Phyllis Langford Sheffield be there?”

  “She’s supposed to be.”

  “She’s one of my teachers.” Caroline stumbled on the words. “Won’t that be awkward?”

  “No,” he said. “Tory Sanders will be there, too, and she’s also a student at Montford.”

  She’d forgotten about Tory. Maybe if she concentrated on how envious she was of Tory’s relationship with Phyllis, she wouldn’t die of panic before the weekend.

  “Okay,” she said. Sara deserved this.

  And if she could keep telling herself that, Sara’s mother just might survive.

  JOHN WAS STANDING on the eighth tee of the Shelter Valley country club with Matt Sheffield, Will Parsons, Greg Richards and Sam Montford on Saturday morning when Sam’s cell phone rang.

  “Damn,” he muttered, reaching for the small leather pouch attached to the waistband of his jeans. “I forgot to turn the damned thing off.”

  “Ever think about leaving it at home?” Greg taunted good-naturedly.

  “Ever think about Beth in trouble and not being able to reach you?” Sam shot back.

  It was obviously a situation that struck to the core of both men. John remembered a time when he’d been that attached to Meredith. In the end, his being there had made no difference at all.

  “It’s Cassie.” Sam’s voice brought John back to the present. The younger man was looking at the outside LED screen of his phone.

  “Hey there, sexy, what’s up?” he greeted his wife of many years but lover of only a few. John had heard only the basics of how Sam and Cassie had lost a baby and eight years of marriage.

  And that, having been given a second chance with his estranged wife, he was one of the luckiest guys around.

  The pinched look that came over his tanned face didn’t suggest a lucky man. “When?” Sam paused, obviously receiving an answer that didn’t make him feel any better. “Is Mom with him?”

  He nodded then, and John wondered if Sam realized his wife had no idea that he’d just agreed with whatever she’d said.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Without even saying goodbye to the woman he adored, Sam snapped his phone shut.

  “My father collapsed,” he said, heading off across the golf course without the cart he’d driven up in or the wood iron he’d just dropped.

  “Sam!” Will Parsons ran for the cart. “Hold on, I’ll drive you.”

  Grabbing Sam’s club, John jumped into the back of the cart with him, leaving Greg and Matt to follow in the second cart.

  “Has anyone called Ben?” John asked, filled with a familiar urgency that required action where no action would help. Ben was Sam’s cousin and would want to be there.

  “No,” Sam said. “Cassie’s a mess.” Sam’s knee was bouncing up and down, his hand pounding without rhythm against his thigh. “Once again, she was there shouldering my burden,” he muttered.

  “Whoa, man, don’t do that to yourself,” Will said, but John understood the anger that was consuming Sam. It happened to a man who loved someone fiercely and was powerless to do anything when that loved one’s life seemed to be slipping away.

  The lack of control was debilitating.

  “I’ll stop by and get Ben,” he offered. Not because he and Ben were particularly close, although they certainly knew each other. But because he preferred to have something to do rather than go home and wait for a string of phone calls to finally reach him and tell him what was happening.

  James Montford was an institution in Shelter Valley—the direct descendent of the town’s founder, the first Sam Montford. A life-size monument of James’s father, the elder Samuel Montford, held a place of honor in the square downtown. James, like his father before him, exemplified everything Shelter Valley had come to mean to its people. He was an example of life as it should be lived, with integrity, love, faith and joy.

  Even to John, a slightly jaded man who hadn’t been in town all that long, the elder Montford represented a kind of security—proof of what life could be. Though he’d only met the man a few times, John thought of James anytime he was in serious jeopardy of losing all faith. He’d recently considered going to talk to Sam’s dad as he tried to find sense in a world where nothing made sense to him. As he tried to understand feelings he couldn’t understand—like the fear that consumed him whenever he thought about the little girl who’d soon be joining him in this world. He didn’t even know Sara yet, but he knew he’d never survive if anything happened to her.

  And he knew he had very little control over what might happen to her. Hell, she could die in her crib at night.

  That thought scared the hell out of him.

  By the time John had tracked Ben down at Sam Montford’s construction office and driven him and his wife and their two children—who were with him at work that Saturday—to the Montford estate, James Montford had passed away quietly in his bed.

  He’d never regained consciousness.

  John gave his regrets and quietly left. But not before he’d heard the animal-like wail of grief that erupted from Carol Montford when the doctor removed his stethoscope from her husband’s chest and shook his head.

  John recognized that wail. He’d heard it once before, from deep within his own chest when Meredith, bleeding in his arms in the back of a New York City ambulance, took her last breath.

  They’d had to pry his arms away from her body, wet and sticky with blood but still warm when they’d arrived at the hospital. They’d taken him inside, stitched up a cut he hadn’t even realized he had, just beneath his hairline on the left side of his head. Treated a series of other scrapes and bruises and burns. But they hadn’t been able to do anything about the broken state of his heart. Nor could they give him anything to warm the coldness that had permeated every cell of his being.

  As soon as he’d made arrangements to have Meredith’s body sent to Chicago, he’d left the hospital and taken a cab back to the hotel room he’d shared with his wife the night before. An investigation of the accident was in progress, but no one had expected any charges to be filed, and there’d been nothing more for him to do. John had quietly packed their bags, careful to put her makeup in her cosmetic bag, just as he’d seen her do so many times before. He’d loaded their dirty clothes into a laundry bag, moved their clean clothes to one end of their suitcase, zipped everything in and left for the airport.

  The fact that he didn’t have a flight out—or anywhere in particular to go—didn’t seem to matter to him. He was alive, but he might as well have been dead. As dead as Meredith…

  He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t face love knowing that, even in a life as perfect as the Montfords’, this was how it ended. How it would always end. For everyone.

  He couldn’t care. It was the only way he could survive.

  “JESSE? IT’S MA.”

  “Yeah, Ma, I know it’s you.”

  Standing in the parking lot of a Phoenix strip mall, trying to justify going inside the bargain fashion store and spending money that wasn’t necessary for physical survival, Caroline clutched her cell phone to her ear. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  It was Saturday. He didn’t have class to rush off to.

  “I’m just leaving to play basketball. You’re okay, aren’t you?”

  He always asked. Still. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Did you tell your sister yet? The professor?”

  “No.”

  “Okay then, I’ll talk to you later, Ma.”

  The heaviness in her heart was hard to bear.

  “Jesse?”

  “Yeah?” A car drove by, the teenage girl in the passenger seat giving Caroline an odd look.

  “It’s a girl.”

  “A girl?” His voice cracked in a way she hadn’t heard since he was fourteen.

  “You’re going to have a sister. I’m naming her Sara.”

  “A girl,” he repeated in an odd tone.

  “Yeah. Her father’s name is John. He’s an architect, Jess. He lives here in Shelter Valley.”

  “So that’s why you went there.” He said it with only a hint of accusation.

  “In part, yes, but that wasn’t my main reason.” It was seventy-nine degrees and the sun was hot on her head. It radiated up from the blacktop.