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“And what would you have done if you’d known, John?”
“The right thing, dammit! That’s what I’d have done.”
“Exactly. And the last thing I wanted, was for you to change your life by marrying me.”
“The choice isn’t yours to make! I made you pregnant. I’m responsible. I’m—I’m—”
I’m already married to a woman who is pregnant with my child!
The room had started to spin.
Connie had led him to a chair. Told him to sit.
“I’m OK,” he’d said, fending off her offers of a cold compress, of aspirin, of water. “I know it’s a terrible shock,” she’d said, and he’d wanted to laugh, to cry, to put his fist through the wall because there was no way in hell she could possibly know what a shock this really was.
“I’ll make some tea,” she’d said, and he’d nodded, followed her into the kitchen, sat down at the old-fashioned maple table and tried to get his head to function as she put on the kettle, got out mugs, napkins, spoons…
Then they’d sat across from each other, mostly in silence, the patter of the rain filling that silence, but they couldn’t go on in silence any longer and he knew it.
“I never meant…” He cleared his throat. “I never meant for this to happen.”
“I know that.”
“I wore protection.”
She flushed a bright pink. “I know that, too. Sometimes—sometimes, the doctor says, those—those things don’t work.”
“What doctor are you seeing?”
“You wouldn’t know her. She’s in Dallas. Not here.”
John nodded. Of course, not here. Yeah, this was the ’80’s and kids were being born to single women everywhere in the U.S. of A., but this was Wilde’s Crossing…and that led to the next obvious question.
“What are you living on?”
He knew without having to ask that the school board had surely fired her once her condition showed.
And it showed.
God, did it show.
She was not as big as Angelica, but then she wasn’t quite as far along as Angelica, and—and shit, shit, he couldn’t think about that now.
“I have some savings.”
She said it with quiet dignity, and he knew this wasn’t going to be easy.
Hell, how could it be?
Connie was a proud woman.
And he—he had a wife in Sicily—well, maybe not exactly a wife because he’d handed in a fraudulent Dichiarazione Giurata…
Jesus.
His head was going to explode.
“I’ll see a lawyer tomorrow. Somebody in Dallas.”
“Why?”
“For the same reason you chose a Dallas doctor. I don’t want you to have to deal with gossip…” He stopped, their eyes met and he groaned. “I’m an idiot,” he said softly. “You’re dealing with it already.”
“I can’t stop people from talking.”
Her voice trembled. Without thinking, he reached across the table for her hand. It was small and fragile within his.
“But I’ve told them nothing. It’s no one’s business but mine.”
“But ours,” he corrected, and he brought her hand to his lips.
Her eyes glittered. She looked down at her tea, but not before he saw the tears on her cheeks.
“Connie. Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you. I’ll see a lawyer, set up funds for you and the baby.”
“I can take care of myself!”
Johnny smiled. No, she wasn’t fragile. She was feminine. There was a difference.
“I bet you can. But I’m part of this. The baby…”
Connie tore her hand from his and shot to her feet.
“See? This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I don’t want you involved in this, John. I’ve already made arrangements. I’ve sold this house. I’m moving to Austin.”
“Austin?” He stood up, too. “Who do you know in Austin?”
“Nobody. That’s exactly the reason I’m moving there. The baby and I will get a fresh start.”
“Goddammit!” His hands closed on her shoulders. She stood stiff and unyielding under his touch. “The baby and you,” he said, turning her towards him. “What about me? This is my child, too.”
He could almost see her thinking through those words.
“Yes,” she finally said, “you’re right. If you want to see him from time to time, I won’t object.”
“Him?”
Her expression softened. “I’m having a boy.”
“We’re having a boy,” he said.
And he knew, as he said those words, that there was only one “right thing,” just as he knew precisely what that right thing was.
How could he not have seen it sooner?
Constance Elizabeth Grimes, the girl he’d thought of as his brother’s drab little mouse, was neither mousy nor drab.
She was a woman of courage and conviction.
If Alden had lived, if his life had gone as planned, he’d surely have married Connie on his graduation from the Point despite Amos’s disapproval.
She’d have been at Alden’s side ever since, making the kind of home to which he could have brought his friends—officers, diplomats, even General Halvorson himself. She’d have been on his arm at parties, as comfortable at casual staff gatherings as at the most prestigious of events and wherever she went, she’d have dressed properly, talked properly, shown the correct table manners.
She’d have given him strong, smart children.
She was even good in bed.
Not exciting, like Angelica. Not wild. Connie was sweet and soft and tender, and if he could not imagine her fucking him on a beach, at least he could not imagine her fucking him over in life.
He knew his thoughts might seem cold, even calculating, but until now he’d followed the male compass otherwise known as a penis, and look where that had led him.
He put his hand under her chin and raised her face to his.
“Connie,” he said softly. “Sweetheart. You’re a brave, wonderful woman.”
Another of those sweet blushes swept across her face.
“I onl
y wish you’d let me know that we were having a child.”
“John. Johnny—“
“It’s John.” He dipped his head, brushed his lips lightly over hers. “That’s who I am, who I want to be.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I don’t understand.”
He smiled and kissed her again. This time, he felt her mouth soften under his.
“Understand this, honey. You’re not alone anymore. And you’re not moving to Austin, you’re moving to D.C. Or to Virginia. Maybe to Maryland.” He chuckled at the expression on her face. “I haven’t given much thought to where to settle and now I’m glad of that because part of that decision will be yours.”
He could see dawning awareness in her eyes.
Such gentle brown eyes, nothing like the hot black of Angelica’s.
Hell.
No way was he going to think about Angelica right now. She was the past; Connie was the future. OK. Angelica couldn’t stay in the past; he knew that. But she would never be what Connie would be to him.
Yes, there’d be…difficulties.
Difficulties? How about impossibilities? Yes, but he’d work them out.
He wasn’t actually married to Angelica. Why not admit that? He’d always take care of her and the child she was carrying, of course; money would not be a problem, especially now that he’d inherited El Sueño. He’d visit her from time to time; he’d want to, because he’d want to be part of his child’s life…
“What are you saying, John?” Connie asked, and he drew her close, kissed her until she gave a little sigh and responded to the kiss.
“I’m saying that we’re getting married. In the church here, at Wilde’s Crossing, with the whole town watching,.
“But—”
“No buts,” he said firmly. “We’re getting married, and that’s that, and I don’t want to delay our wedding a minute longer than it’ll take us to get a license.
He smiled. It took a little while, but finally she did, too.
He gathered her close against him.
As for problems… If the Point, the army and life had taught him anything, it was that no problem was insoluble.
Married men had affairs. They had mistresses. They had illegitimate children. Even high ranking army officers. Nobody talked about it, but everybody knew such things happened despite it being grounds for dismissal.
