loud, arrogant father-in-law, or her convinced-he-was-right husband.
Knowing all of that, she was happy and scared and worried all at once.
Hormones, Yvette thought. All this confusion was nothing but hormones, but that didn’t make it easier to handle.
“Hello, Yvette. How are you?”
Her eyes sprang open and she stood up straight. Carly Joslin strolled up with Lisa Thomas and the woman Yvette now knew was Gemma Whitmire—the one, along with Nathan Smith, who Cole hated and wouldn’t say why.
Embarrassment flushed Yvette’s face. She knew her husband had made a fool of himself. He didn’t seem to be bothered by it, but she was. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. It was mystifying to her. Even though he seemed to think his opinion was the most important one, he usually wasn’t like this at home, but whenever they were out in public he turned into a different man, one who had to be the authority on everything, the loudest voice, the know-it-all. They’d met online, had been married less than a year and she feared she’d made a dreadful mistake. She was ten years younger than he was. There was no one she could talk to about her marriage. She wasn’t from Reston, had few friends here, and her family—what was left of it—was hundreds of miles away.
She knew Carly and Lisa wouldn’t say anything about Cole’s antics, but she didn’t know Gemma so she braced herself for whatever she might say. The other woman seemed pretty outspoken and sure of herself if the way she’d grabbed the microphone from Dr. Smith was any indication.
Yvette liked that. She admired strong women, mostly because she knew she wasn’t one.
Carly introduced the two of them and Gemma gave her a warm smile. “Congratulations on your upcoming birth,” she said as she ran a practiced eye over Yvette’s belly. “You’re about seven months along?”
“Yes.” She rested her palms on her stomach and her son gave such a strong kick, her hands bounced. Everyone laughed. “He’s pretty lively today.”
Gemma pulled a card from her handbag. “Since you’re so far along, you’ve probably got a doctor and a birthing plan all ready to go, but if I can do anything to help, please call.”
“Oh, thank you.” Yvette took the card and tucked it into her pocket, then glanced up in time to see Cole bearing down on them, his face hard. “I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, Gemma,” she said hurriedly, turning away and moving rapidly toward the truck.
Cole detoured away from the women and was at the vehicle before her, unlocking the door. He braced a hand under her elbow, helping her in even as he growled, “Why were you talking to them?”
“I was being polite. Carly and Lisa are always nice to me...”
“Stay away from Gemma,” he ordered, slamming the door, then stalking around to the driver’s side and jerking the door open.
“That might be hard to do, Cole. This isn’t exactly a big city.”
He started the engine and put the truck in gear. “You can if you make a point of it, Yvette.”
Her lips tight, she looked out the window as tears filled her eyes. She’d made a terrible mistake and she had no idea how to fix it. She knew she could leave, but where would she go? How could she support herself and the baby? If Cole and his parents even let her take the baby. She had only a high school diploma and no job skills outside of the do-you-want-fries-with-that? variety.
She wished she could talk to Gemma. She had so many questions about the baby and about childbirth that her doctor tried to answer, but he was too busy to spend much time with her. Dr. Smith seemed nice enough in spite of what Cole said, and he seemed honest. Cole wouldn’t allow her to talk to either of them. She didn’t know what she was going to do.
* * *
GEMMA PUT A hand to her throat as she stared after Cole’s truck in dismay. “Oh, my goodness. Is that girl even a day over nineteen?”
“Not by much,” Carly answered, and told Gemma what she knew of Cole and Yvette’s courtship and marriage.
“She looks exhausted, overwhelmed and...”
“Terrified,” Lisa supplied. She also studied the retreating truck with a worried look. “You don’t think Cole is...”
“Abusive toward her?” Carly mused, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope not.”
“I hope she calls me,” Gemma said. “I know I can help her.”
Her friends exchanged a look. “Still rescuing kittens,” Carly teased gently.
“Yup. I’ll never change.” For some reason, Nathan’s solemn face came to mind. She wished things were different, were better between them, but maybe that was something that also wouldn’t change.
“Come on,” Carly said. “I did promise to assemble your lawn mower since I’m the gardening expert in the group, but do you two mind if we take a quick drive down Sky Mountain Road? There are a bunch of houses along there that might have put out—”
“No!” Gemma and Lisa answered in unison.
Laughing, the three of them climbed into the truck and headed toward Gemma’s.
* * *
NATHAN WATCHED GEMMA drive away with her friends and envied how easily she had slipped back into daily life in Reston. He wondered how long it would be before that happened for him. Or if it ever would.
Even though he was trying to do the right thing by the people of his hometown, they resented him because of what his father had done. He knew it was going to be a long, hard road to win back their trust. He wanted to do it on his own, though.
Fortunately, he’d had a minute to catch his breath and collect his thoughts when Gemma had jumped to his defense. He was grateful to her for telling Cole to shut up, but it rankled that she’d had to. He didn’t want her to rescue him.
A hand clapped onto his shoulder and he glanced up with a start to see Tom Sanderson grinning at him.
“Dr. Smith, I want you to meet my son, Trent.” The man beside him was a carbon copy of his father, but thirty years younger. Nate and Trent shook hands as Tom continued. “He couldn’t make it to the meeting. My wife is heading home so I’m going to fill Trent in on what happened. You want to join us? You look like a man who could use a beer.”
Nate looked from father to son. The family had moved to the area about five years ago, so they didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of George Smith’s crimes. Old friends might have abandoned him, but it was probably time he made some new ones.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I sure could.”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK, GEMMA?” Lisa asked, setting the small carved figure on an end table and positioning it just so. Gemma’s mom had sent it from Botswana, where she and Wolfchild were helping build a school.
The
