through with it!” Mitchell roared.
Alicia sagged against a wall as she gripped the telephone. A small voice did ask why he couldn’t once take her side. Vanessa, who didn’t even know her, was at least trying not judge her.
“But Daddy ….”
In spite of the fact that Jake had forbidden her to call her father, she had. While Jake had been at work, she’d left her father a message yesterday informing him of her intention to marry Jake today. Besides, what was the harm? She hadn’t told him where or when, so it wasn’t as if she’d invited him and he might show up and upset Jake or anything.
As was his custom, Mitchell hadn’t even bothered to return her call in a timely fashion.
“So you married him?”
“I called because I didn’t want you learn about it by reading it in the newspapers or on the Web.”
“As if it matters how I learn it! Where is he now? Is he listening? Gloating?”
“No. He left … right after the marriage ceremony. I don’t know where he is or if he’s ever coming home. It’s not like he wanted to marry me.”
“What? Then why the hell … Never mind! It’s your funeral. You were a fool to marry him, so you deserve whatever misery he dishes out—which will be plenty, I assure you. You made your bed—now lie in it!” With that her father, who wasn’t known for his patience or gentleness, hung up on her, leaving her alone in Jake’s big house to enjoy what was left of her wedding day.
As if she could enjoy anything now, trapped in this house, knowing she’d married a man who didn’t care for her, knowing that by doing so, she’d turned her father completely against her. She should have realized how totally empty and bereft she’d feel once she truly alienated him.
Laying down her cordless phone, she went in search of Gus. Naturally, he wouldn’t come or even mew when she called. When she couldn’t find him anywhere on the first floor, she climbed the stairs and found him reclining in the hall outside Jake’s locked, bedroom door, thumping his tail while waiting for the master of the house to come home.
“You little traitor. You’re worthless sometimes, you know that?”
Gus’s eyes remained shut. He looked much too serene as his head remained on his crossed paws even as his tail began to twitch faster.
When she leaned down and picked him up, he meowed loudly and swished his tail to show that he was very much annoyed.
“Traitor! You’re my cat, you know, not his,” she said, kissing the tip of his ear.
The ear whipped against his skull as she headed down the stairs with him. His yellow eyes stared into hers with a feral look that said he didn’t know any such thing. He was his own cat, thank you very much, and, of course, he refused to purr and began to strain to get away.
When she reached the bottom floor, he twisted sharply. A claw from a back paw caught in her forearm as he jumped to the floor. Then he leaped back up the stairs, no doubt to resume his stubborn vigil outside Jake’s door.
“He doesn’t want you any more than he wants me, you know,” she yelled. “Maybe less!” Then she stalked to the hall bathroom, and washed off the beads of blood and toweled her arm dry.
What had she done? Why had she ever thought marrying Jake even for a short time would be a solution to anything? She’d completely alienated her father now, and that loss filled her with a mixture of guilt and regret. Maybe he hadn’t been the most attentive of fathers but he’d always been there, at least in the background. Until now.
He was probably going to prison and she’d married the man who was responsible. Tears flooded her eyes but she brushed them aside, refusing to surrender to emotional turmoil or self-doubt. She’d done what she had to do for her baby.
Marching into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of ice water and then gobbled three dill pickles and a slice of cheese. Then she hurried to her bedroom where she undressed and got ready for a long evening of watching television and reading the books and magazines on her nightstand. All of Jake’s magazines had to do with outdoor adventures, especially in Alaska, which sounded like a freezing hell with way too many mosquitoes, not to mention bears. Funny, but hadn’t he told her that first night that he sometimes went there to be all alone when he was feeling most stressed?
Later, as she climbed into the big bed all by herself and pulled the sheets up to her neck, loneliness washed over her. She wanted Jake, which was stupid and illogical, considering their circumstances. He had kissed her, yes. Passionately. And then he’d hated them both for it.
Why should she think she could matter to Jake, her father’s enemy, who’d been forced to marry her, when she hadn’t ever mattered to anyone else before? Not even her own father.
Except Mother.
Don’t think about any of that. Or even the present. You will get through this. Concentrate on the future.
Thinking of her own baby, her spirits gradually brightened. She wanted her child fiercely and she was willing to fight for the best possible life for her baby—and that included giving her baby a father. Like her mother, she would create a beautiful nursery. Like her mother, she would spend as much time as possible with her child. And maybe … maybe in time what her father had done or hadn’t done would become clear. And Jake’s attitude toward her and their child would change.
For no reason at all she remembered how he’d held her hand and listened so intently that first night she’d confided in him. Then he’d taken her in his arms the day she’d shown up on his doorstep and told him she was pregnant. Today he’d kissed her passionately. Maybe it wasn’t so foolish to believe he had it in him to make a wonderful father and even a good husband.
She had to hold on to that possibility … and fight for it.
Seven
Alicia woke the next morning feeling stronger—until she caught the thick scent of boudin sausage, frying eggs and steaming chicory-flavored coffee wafting out of the air-conditioning vent.
Obviously Jake had come home. Smiling because she was glad he was home, she sat up. At that slight movement her stomach became hollow and her mouth was suddenly too dry for her to swallow. Throwing her sheets aside, she rushed for the bathroom, intending to splash cold water on her face.
In her haste, she slammed into a low table. The china teacup and saucer she’d forgotten to return to the kitchen last night shattered on the oak floor. With a little cry, she kept running.
After bathing her face, the nausea gradually passed.
Last night to cheer herself up she’d watched a couple of comedies on television, which had eased her depression and caused her to laugh until she’d nearly cried. She’d fallen asleep feeling more hopeful about the future.
At the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing and heavy, male footsteps approaching, she turned slowly.
“Jake?”
“Who else? Are you all right?” he rumbled in his deep, insistent voice.
“Just a touch of morning sickness,
