Hunter that he was her husband, and she wanted to share with him the wonderful news that he was going to be a father. But even as her hands strayed protectively to her abdomen, a little voice inside warned against revealing everything, warned that she should proceed with caution until she knew more about Hunter’s circumstances. What she’d realized in the months since Hunter’s death was that she didn’t really know him very well at all.
For long moments, a battle raged within her. Tell him… No, don’t tell him. But he’s your husband…but what if there was more to his medical-leave story than he’d admitted? After all, you only know what he told you, and he could have lied, could have lied about everything. Can you afford to take the chance? You’ve got your unborn baby to protect.
Leah finally decided that what she needed was time. Time to digest what he’d told her, and time to further assess his mental state.
“We’re friends,” she finally said. “We’re just really good friends.”
Again, he seemed to mull over what she’d told him, and Leah tensed. She’d never been a good liar, and there was nothing in his expression to indicate whether he did or didn’t believe her. If he didn’t, then what?
After a moment, he finally said, “So, friend, do you have a name?”
Leah’s stomach knotted. He didn’t believe her. Somehow he knew they had been more than just friends, knew that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “My name is Leah. Leah…Johnson.”
“Leah Johnson,” he repeated slowly, thoughtfully. But to her acute disappointment, his eyes remained blank, without even a spark of recognition. After a moment, he squeezed them tightly shut and whispered, “Damn.”
When Hunter opened his eyes, the brief look of confusion and disappointment that Leah saw in them almost broke her heart. It was evident that he’d hoped that hearing her name would awaken some of his lost memory. But it hadn’t.
“What about family?” he asked. “Do I have any family? Mother, father, brothers or sisters?”
Leah shook her head. Only me, she wanted to say, but she whispered, “No. Your parents both died in an accident when you were a young teenager. After their deaths you lived with an aunt, your mother’s only sister. But she died of cancer not long after you graduated from the police academy.”
Again that same brief, miserable look of confusion and disappointment flashed in his eyes. “Then there’s no one,” he mumbled, pushing out of the swing.
No one but me, Leah added silently as she watched him pace the length of the porch. That they had both been alone in the world had been just one more thing that sealed the bond of need between them despite the short time they’d known each other.
I’ll be your family and you’ll be mine, then neither of us will have to be alone. The words he’d whispered to her when he proposed echoed in her mind, and knife-stabbing guilt pricked at her conscience.
Hunter stopped his pacing near the porch steps and sudden panic seized her. What if he left? After all, as far as he knew, there was nothing to keep him here.
“Why don’t you come inside?” she blurted out before she had time to change her mind. There was no way she could let him leave…not just yet…not until she got some answers that made sense.
“The least I can do is fix you a bite of breakfast.” Half-afraid he would say no, Leah pushed out of the swing. With an eye on Hunter, she stepped over, picked up the bat, then walked purposely toward the front door, leaving him little choice but to follow.
“You don’t have to do this,” he protested, his gaze sliding warily to the bat. But even as he protested, he took a step toward her.
“Don’t be silly.” She motioned for him to follow her.
The look of relief on his face pricked her conscience again, but she ignored it. Once inside, she leaned the bat against the wall, then led him through the parlor and down a short hallway.
“As long as you’re here,” she told him when they entered the kitchen, “maybe you’d like to take a hot shower—clean up a bit—while I cook breakfast?” She turned to see him inspecting the large kitchen and breakfast area.
“I could definitely use a shower,” he muttered, his gaze settling on her face. “But I really couldn’t impose on you like that.”
“We are friends,” she emphasized. “And it’s not imposing if I invite you. I might even be able to rustle up a clean change of clothes for you as well. Last time my uncle came for a visit, he left a few of his things in the closet.”
While it was true that she had an uncle—a great-uncle—the jeans and shirts had actually belonged to Hunter. When she returned from Orlando, she’d packed them away in a box with intentions of giving them to Goodwill. Only problem was, she never seemed able to remember to put the box in her car.
Leah turned away quickly for fear he would somehow be able to see that she’d lied yet again, and she walked over to the phone sitting on the kitchen counter. “Right now, I need to make a phone call and let the hospital know that I won’t be coming in today.”
“You work at a hospital?”
Leah punched out the numbers of the floor she worked on. “I’m a nurse.”
Her call was answered on the third ring, and in a matter-of-fact tone she explained that she needed to take a sick day.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Hunter said when she hung up the receiver. “Not on my account.”
If only you knew, she thought, and taking a deep breath for courage, she turned and faced him. “It’s no problem. Really it’s not. It seems like forever that I’ve seen you and I could use a day off.” She motioned toward the breakfast table. “Why don’t you have a seat and wait right here while I get you those clothes. Feel free to pour yourself a cup of coffee. It’s decaf.” She turned and headed toward the door leading to the bedrooms. “Coffee mugs are on the counter,” she called out over her shoulder.
When Leah reached her bedroom, she glanced over her shoulder again, just to make sure he hadn’t followed, then she headed straight for the dresser. Sitting on top was an eight-by-ten framed photograph of the two of them taken on their wedding day. She hadn’t hired a professional photographer, and the picture was only an enlarged snapshot taken by a friend, but she’d worn a short veil to go along with the white-lace dress she’d bought, and Hunter had rented a tuxedo for the occasion. One look at that picture, and he’d know that they had been more than just friends.
Leah glanced over her shoulder again, just to make sure that she was alone, then she removed the framed picture and placed it in the bottom drawer of the dresser beneath a stack of out-of-season sweaters. After a quick inspection of the room to make sure there was nothing else incriminating, she headed for the closet. In the bottom of the closet near the back was the small cardboard box that contained the remainder of Hunter’s clothes.
After a brief stop in the guest bathroom, Leah returned to the kitchen. Hunter was seated at the breakfast table, staring out the bay window. His hands were wrapped around a steaming coffee mug.
Just beyond the bay window in the tiny backyard, her grandmother had created a lovely garden oasis surrounded by a wall of camellias, azaleas and a host of other evergreens that thrived
