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Given a choice, he would have opted for someone else, but the only other woman he knew and trusted was Martha Applegate, and he didn’t think she’d be up to the task. There was no help for it. He needed to do this himself.
With a sigh of resignation, he climbed out of the cab and approached the house. It’d been five weeks since he’d last seen her. She seemed to be avoiding him with the same fervor.
Five long, torturous weeks. He wasn’t fool enough to admit he hadn’t missed her. Thoughts of her consumed him. He worried about her and the baby, but there wasn’t a thing he could do. She’d rejected him, rejected his proposal.
The temptation to turn around and leave was strong. Before he could entertain the notion further, he leaned against the doorbell and waited.
Every likelihood existed that Candy was involved with someone else by now. He tried not to think about that possibility, but he wasn’t fool enough not to recognize that she was an attractive woman. Since she’d started dressing like a woman, other men were bound to notice her.
He pressed the doorbell a second time, and silently counted to ten before he released the button.
His heart was heavy, and contacting Candy like this did little to lighten his load.
The porch light went on and he blinked against the sudden brightness.
“What do you want?” Candy shouted through the closed door.
“I need you,” he shouted gruffly.
“I’m sure one of your female friends from the Watering Hole would serve just as well.”
So she’d been keeping tabs on him. A hint of a smile touched his lips. He’d been so busy working on his place that he rarely went out these days. In the past five weeks, he’d probably drank two beers at the local tavern. A couple of friendly women had let it be known that they wouldn’t be opposed to a little fun. The sad part of it all was that neither one had tempted him. There’d been a time when Carl would have gladly partaken of their offer. He suspected Candy was to blame for that, as well. Another reason on the growing list of why he shouldn’t have come to her now.
“I need your help,” he amended. “Just open the door, would you?” He swore under his breath. Patience had never been his strongest trait, and dealing with the most obstinate woman in a three-state radius wasn’t helping him any.
“My help?” She opened the door, and stood on the other side of the locked screen door.
Carl thought he was prepared for this but he was wrong. Dead wrong. She was so pretty with her hair all mussed, and her robe tightly cinched at her waist. He couldn’t see any evidence of the baby yet.
He’d missed her. He hadn’t realized how much until this moment. The temptation to pull her into his arms was so strong that he nearly crushed his hat between his hands.
“It’s four in the morning,” she chastised, regarding him warily.
“I know,” he returned gruffly. “This couldn’t wait.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to come with me when I talk to Lesley Ackerman.”
“Zane’s wife?”
He nodded. “She’s going to need a woman. I’m not going to be much help.”
“What’s wrong?”
He resisted the urge to wipe a hand down his face. When he spoke, the words came hard, working their way up his parched throat. “I just got word. Zane’s dead. I need you to help me tell his wife.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LESLEY KNEW THE PRECISEmoment Zane had died. She woke from a deep sleep and an incredible sadness settled over her. Sitting up in bed, she stared into the thick darkness as the realization her husband was dead assaulted her. She wasn’t sure how she knew. She just knew.
The grief made her feel as though she were drowning. Her lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen. Her broken heart ached. The flood of pain was more than she could bear. Cradling her abdomen to protect her child, she moaned and rocked and softly wept.
In retrospect she was certain what happened next must have been her imagination. It was an emotional means of dealing with such intense pain, she supposed. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking. She had no name to give it so she accepted it as a gift. A rare and precious gift.
In the darkness, when her heart felt as if it would burst with grief, Zane came to her. She didn’t see him. Not with her eyes. She felt his presence as keenly as if he were standing next to her. The scent of him was everywhere. He was close, so close, she felt his fingers lightly trail down the side of her face.
His love for her and their child filled the room, adding a glow that couldn’t be attributed to any light. The words weren’t spoken aloud, but she heard them as clearly as if they had been verbalized.
