Temporary Husband Page 16

  “Aw, hell! Floor it, Wynne. I see a light.”

  She stomped on the accelerator, shooting off the end of the driveway and bouncing heedlessly across the lawn. Skidding to a halt outside the mudroom door, she leapt from the truck and raced into the house. The sight that greeted her almost brought her to her knees. A fitful fire crackled in the grate of the wood-burning stove, throwing off a miserly warmth. The boys sat huddled on the kitchen floor in front of it.

  They weren’t moving.

  “Buster? Chick?” she called, approaching with leaden feet, afraid of what she’d find. They shifted in response to the sound of her voice and she sent up a silent prayer of relief—until they turned around. She gasped in horror at their pale, blue-tinged complexions.

  “Hi, Aunt Wynne,” Buster murmured in an exhausted little voice. “Boy, are we glad to see you.”

  She fell on them, hugging them close. “Me, too,” she answered, her voice breaking despite her best efforts. They were cold. So very cold.

  “We tried to call, but the phone didn’t work.”

  Jake came in then, dropping blankets and coats at their feet and Chick held up his arms. “Uncle Dad,” he whispered, croaking out the first words he’d spoken aloud in a long, long time. “I knew you would gets me.”

  It was too much to bear. In the darkest moments of despair, a miracle was born. Wynne bowed her head and burst into tears.

  Jake scooped up Chick, his hands trembling uncontrollably, and buried his face in the boy’s silky hair. “Go start the truck and turn the heater on high while I wrap them up,” he ordered tersely. “We need to get them to the hospital as soon as possible.”

  “Are they going to be all right?” she questioned anxiously.

  “I hope so.” Moving with swift efficiency, he carried Chick from the house. Then he returned for Buster, situating the boys so they were close to the heating vents of the truck. “Let’s go.”

  She tried to force the clutch into gear, but stalled the engine. For the first time ever, Jake heard her swear. He caught her hand as she reached for the ignition, his steady, golden gaze holding hers. “Take it easy, honey. I know you’re frightened. But it’ll work out. I promise.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do it,” she cried. “He’s finally talking and I can’t hold it together long enough—”

  “They’re safe,” Jake said calmly. “We just have to get them to a doctor to make sure they aren’t suffering from exposure.”

  “We’re safe now, Aunt Wynne,” Buster repeated sleepily. “You don’t have to be scared no more.”

  “No more,” Chick confirmed.

  “Now slow and easy, just like I taught you,” Jake said. “Remember? First gear is a kiss.”

  She nodded, fighting off tears. Taking a deep breath, she turned the key and restarted the truck. This time, she slid smoothly into first.

  “Thatta girl. Now a gentle touch.”

  Pushing in the clutch, she shifted into second. “How far to the hospital?”

  “The closest one is in Two Forks.”

  “Jake—”

  “Don’t panic. You can do it. Shift into third.”

  “A bolder touch,” she recited in a shaky voice.

  “That’s right. You’re doing fine. Now drop down to a gentle touch as we take this curve. Well done.”

  He continued to talk the entire way. First helping her through the gears, then encouraging the boys. His voice was all that saved her from insanity. Pulling up to the emergency doors, it took three tries to peel her white-knuckled hands off the steering wheel. By the time she climbed from the truck, the boys had been taken inside.

  “The doctors are looking at your sons now, Mrs. Hondo,” a nurse advised. “In the meantime, I have some forms for you to fill out.” While Wynne wrote and worried and waited for word on the boys’ condition, Jake went to the pay phones to call off the search party.

  “They were all out there looking,” he said when he rejoined her. “Every last man. Even Randolph.”

  “They’re not bad people,” she replied. “You just need to give them half a chance.”

  “You think they’d let me?”

  A smile slid across her mouth. “Yes. I think they would.”

  Thirty minutes later, the doctor entered the waiting room. “Good news, folks. Your boys check out fine. It might have been a different story, if the oldest hadn’t been smart enough to build a fire. They got lucky.”

  “May we see them?” Wynne requested.

  “Of course. We’re going to keep them overnight just for observation. But you can visit for a while, if you’d like.”

  The boys had been put in the pediatric ward, their beds side by side. Wynne climbed in with Chick, holding him so tightly he squirmed in protest. Jake sat with Buster.

  “You mad?” the boy questioned nervously.

  Jake didn’t bother to pull his punches. “Sure am. Care to explain why you took off like that?”

  “We heard Aunt Marsh say she was going to take us away. So I thought we oughta hide till she went home.”

  “I guess that means you don’t trust your Uncle Jake,” Wynne spoke up.

  Buster stared at her in confusion. “What?”

  She returned his look, her gaze cool and serious. “You should have trusted him to keep his promise. He said he’d protect us from Aunt Marsh and he will.”

  “Wynne,” Jake began. “I don’t think—”

  “It’s important that they know.” She cut him off. “When you say you’re going to do something, they need to trust you.” She scrutinized first one boy, then the other. “Understood?”

  Chick snuggled deeper into her arms. “Okay,” he answered without hesitation.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Uncle Jake,” Buster said contritely. “It won’t never happen again.”

  His hands firmly tied, Jake leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. Now what the hell did he do?

  Mrs. Marsh appeared on their doorstep first thing the next morning.

  She breezed into the house as though she owned it, commanding immediate attention. “I heard what happened to my nephews,” she began without preamble.

  “And ran right over to see how they were,” Jake finished for her.

  Her mouth twisted. “Cute, but wrong. I’m here to issue an ultimatum.”

  “Another one?” Wynne couldn’t help asking.

  “A final one. You see, thanks to this latest episode, there’s no question that I’ll win custody of the boys. You’ve put the children at risk too many times. So I’m giving you one more—”

  “Get to the point.” Jake cut her off.

  Her gaze grew stony with dislike. “Very well. You had a quickie Nevada marriage, now I want you to get a quickie Mexican divorce. You do that, and not only will I grant Wynne generous visitation rights, I’ll put it in writing. Fight me for so much as another day and she’ll never see them again.” She paused, flashing sharklike teeth. “You’ll understand if I require an immediate answer.”

  He knew what he’d like to tell her. But one glance at Wynne, one glimpse of the fear and panic she fought so hard to hide, put paid to that idea. Besides, he didn’t want open warfare with the Marsh woman. Not yet. Not when another option was available—a choice that had to be one of the toughest he’d ever faced.

  “Well?” she prompted impatiently.

  His hands clenched. “My marriage in exchange for the kids, is that how it works?”

  “That’s it.”

  “I’ll agree—on one condition.”

  “Jake, no!” Tears sprang to Wynne’s eyes, tears she brushed aside with an impatient hand. “Don’t do it.”

  “Name your condition,” Mrs. Marsh said quickly. It was obvious she sensed an easy victory.

  “I need time.”

  She inclined her head. “Very well. I’ll give you three days.”

  “It might take longer.”

  “Don’t let it,” she retorted with curt finality. “You have mone
y. Use it. These matters can be taken care of easily enough…for the right price.”

  “Trust you to know that,” he muttered. “Oh, and there’s one other condition. I’ll fly out today, but I need your promise that you won’t act until my return.”

  “I’ll hold off for three days and not a second longer. Do we have a deal?”

  “I guess you could call it that.”

  She heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Well! That wasn’t so difficult. It certainly has been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hondo.”

  “Not from where I’m standin’.”

  She flashed her dimples. “Next time we meet I expect it to be with divorce papers in hand. Don’t disappoint me, now. You wouldn’t want to make me angry.” Throwing Wynne a look of triumph, she sailed from the room.

  Silence reigned for a full minute. Jake stared at the floor, steeling himself to deal with the tears, the disillusionment, the pleas.

  “Jake—”

  He stopped her with a single look. “We don’t have any choice, you realize that, don’t you? We have to settle the issue of our marriage once and for all.”

  “But—”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. Those boys have to come first. Do you want to lose them completely? Your dragon-lady isn’t fooling around. She’s desperate, and as much as I’d like to deny it, she has a case.”

  “You promised,” she whispered. “We had an agreement.”

  “I promised to take care of your dragon and that’s what I’ll do. But it has to be my way.”

  She started to speak, then hesitated. Instead she took a step closer, then another and another until she stopped right in front of him. And all the while she stared as though she could see straight through to his soul. Questions danced within her unflinching gaze, trembled on her lips. But she didn’t speak them. Even as he watched a quiet conviction slipped across her face, absolute trust a flame in the verdant green of her eyes.

  Finally she nodded. “I’ll let you take care of it,” was all she said.

  “That’s it?” he demanded. “No questions? No complaints?”

  She managed a shaky smile. “Would it do any good?”

  “No.”

  She clasped her hands together, her fingers unconsciously searching for a wedding band that was forever lost. The minute awareness struck, she dropped her arms to her sides. “If you’re going to be gone for three days, you’ll need some clothes. Why don’t I help you pack?”

  “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “I’d appreciate that. I’d like to speak to the boys first, though.”

  It didn’t take long. After explaining to Buster and Chick that he was leaving on a business trip, Jake crossed to the bedroom he shared with his wife and pulled an overnight bag from the closet. Pawing through his dresser, he threw the bare essentials into the case. Wynne went right behind him, removing and folding each item before repacking it.

  Finished, he turned and glanced at her. “It’s time.”

  Her chin wobbled ever so slightly. “Have a safe trip. I’ll see you in a few days.” She flashed him an anxious look. “Right?”

  “Yeah, you’ll see me again.” He picked up his suitcase and took a step toward the door, but found he couldn’t leave her, not like this. His case hit the ground. “Come here.”

  She ran into his arms, almost knocking him over. She was steel cloaked in velvet, a delicate beauty built over indomitable strength. The breath shuddered though her as she gathered that strength, slipping her hands across the tense muscles of his chest. Her lips skimmed his cheek like a butterfly, then honed in on his mouth. With a dark groan, he kissed her, pillaging the generous warmth with a desperation she couldn’t mistake. Finally he set her from him.

  “I have to go.”

  She didn’t speak, simply nodded.

  He picked up his bag and this time, made it to the door. At the threshold, he hesitated, his back to her. “Do you trust me, elf?”

  “I always have,” came her choked response. “And I always will.”

  His voice dropped, sounding raspy and strained. “I’ve never had anyone trust me before.”

  He barely caught her answer. “That’s because you’ve never been married to me before.”

  His shoulders sagged beneath the burden of her words. “You have no idea the risk you’re taking,” he informed her harshly.

  And then he was gone.

  Judge Graydon pounded his gavel, bringing the court to order. A silence settled over the packed room as everyone eagerly waited for the proceedings to begin.

  “I’m afraid we’ve delayed long enough,” the judge said, looking at Wynne. “Have you heard from Jake, yet?”

  Reluctantly she shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  There hadn’t been a word from him, not in all of the five impossibly long days that had passed since he’d left. During that time, she’d build a protective wall around her emotions, allowing nothing to intrude—except for her nephews. And all the while she’d clung to her hope and her faith, discovering in the deepest hours of the night that faith and hope made for very cold bedfellows.

  The judge sighed. “Then we’ll have to begin without him. But I want it clearly understood that this is not a legal proceeding.” He glared first at Peter, who sat next to her, then at the dapper lawyer who’d escorted Mrs. Marsh into the courtroom. “We’re just having a nice, friendlylike discussion in order see if there’s room for a compromise.”

  The dapper lawyer popped to his feet. “Larry Livingston, Jr., Your Honor. And I can assure you there isn’t any room at all.”

  Graydon pointed his gavel at the man. “Sit down and stay put. I’ll let you know if I’m interested in your opinion. Understood?”

  Deflated, the lawyer did as he was told. “Understood, Your Honor.”

  “Good. Now I’ve reviewed Mrs. Marsh’s complaints.” The judge’s brows pulled together. “And I don’t think anyone can deny that these incidents she’s detailed actually happened. Heck-fire, Jake himself told me about the run-in the boys had with Mad Dog and that rattler.”

  Livingston springboarded to his feet again. “Your Honor, I object. Your relationship with the defendant is a clear-cut conflict of interest. I request—”

  “Sit down!” Judge Graydon thundered. “I’ve already told you this is just a friendly little discussion, not a legal proceeding.”

  “But, Your Honor—”

  Graydon leaned across the bench. “Let me offer you a piece of advice, Mr. Livingston. Since I’m the only judge in town, I suggest you do your level best not to tick me off. It won’t help your client any. Got it?”

  Livingston gulped, subsiding into his chair once more. “Got it, Your Honor.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “If I may?”

  “If you must. Keep it brief, Bryant.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. I’d just like to say that…boys will be boys.”

  Graydon snorted. “Quite insightful of you, Petey. Only these incidents are a little more serious than that.”

  “It isn’t just the danger.” Mrs. Marsh spoke up, managing to sound genuinely concerned. “Although, as you say, that’s serious enough. But when you combine it with the problems surrounding Wynne’s marriage, I just don’t see how anyone can believe my nephews would be better off with her.”

  The judge lifted an eyebrow. “And what problems would those be?” he asked.

  Impossibly long lashes swept downward to conceal the expression in her eyes. “Everyone knows their relationship is a sham. He only married her to get his hands on Chesterfield Ranch.” She glanced around as though for support. “Surely it’s no secret. Just as it’s no secret that he’s going to divorce her.” Her tone sharpened. “And once he does, she’ll have no husband, no home and no viable means of support.”

  Graydon frowned. “I’ve never put much credence in gossip, Mrs. Marsh. Nor should you. As far as I know, there’s been no talk of a divorce.”

  She smiled smugly. “Yes, ther
e has. In fact, that’s why he isn’t here. He’s getting a divorce even as we speak.”

  The courtroom erupted.

  “Wait a minute!” the judge shouted. “Quiet!” He banged his gavel until the ruckus had died down. Then he fixed a stern gaze on Mrs. Marsh. “Are you telling this court you know where Jake is?”

  “I suggest you try Mexico,” she replied, studying her perfectly manicured nails. “Or possibly Haiti. Wherever he can get a quick divorce. Though considering how long he’s been gone, I’d hardly call it quick.”

  Judge Graydon switched his attention to Wynne. “Did you know Jake was off getting a divorce?”

  “No,” she answered politely. “Because he’s not.”

  “Well, now I’m confused. One says he is and the other says he isn’t.” He released a gusty sigh. “Let’s get this sorted out.”

  Toward the back of the room, Randolph stood. “Excuse me, Your Honor. May I say something?”

  “I don’t believe we need your brand of help, Chesterfield,” the judge retorted.

  “I actually planned to speak on Jake’s behalf.” He held up his hands at the hoots of disbelief from the people seated around him. “I know, I know. That’s a first for me. But I recently discovered that I’ve been wrong about him, that I’ve accused him of things he never did.” He took a deep breath. “My…my cousin never laid a finger on Evie, despite what I may have told folks in the past. It was just a big misunderstanding. I saw him drop her off one night, heard her crying and naturally assumed…Well, the bottom line is, I was wrong. Evie tried to explain at the time, but I didn’t believe her. I guess I wanted to think the worst of Jake. Y’all can probably figure out why.”

  “What changed your mind?” Wynne asked.

  “You did,” he confessed. “And Evie. The way you both defended him. After dinner last week my wife got rather…vocal on the subject. It was enough to make me stop and listen.” He folded his arms across his chest, reminding her vividly of Jake. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is…I’m not willing to jump to any more conclusions about the man. If Wynne says he’s not divorcing her, Jake will have to say different before I’ll believe it.” And with that, he sat down.