The Marriage Conspiracy

“Joleen. It is only a few minutes. I know you can manage it.”

Joleen stared into those hard gray eyes. She found herself thinking of Bobby, understanding him a little better, maybe. Even forgiving him some for being so much less than the man she had dreamed him to be. Joleen doubted that Robert Atwood knew how to show love, how to teach a child the true meaning of right and wrong. He would communicate his will—and his sense that he and his were special, above the rules that regular folks had to live by. And his son would grow up as Bobby had. Charming and so handsome. Well dressed, well educated and well mannered. At first glance, a real “catch.” A man among men.

But inside, just emptiness. A lack where substance mattered the most.

“Joleen,” Bobby had said when she’d told him she was pregnant. “I have zero interest in being a father.” The statement had been cool and matter-of-fact, the same kind of tone he might have used to tell her that he didn’t feel up to eating Chinese that night. “If you are having a baby, I’m afraid you will be having it on your own.”

She’d been so shocked and hurt, she’d reacted on pure pride. “Fine,” she had cried. “Get out of my life. I don’t want to see you. Ever again.”

And Bobby had given her exactly what she’d asked for. He’d walked out of her life—and his unborn child’s—and never looked back.

She thought again of Dekker’s warnings.

Forget the Atwoods. They have too much money and too much power and given the kind of son they raised, I’d say they’re way too likely to abuse both….

She rose from her chair. “Come on, Sam. We’ve got to get busy here.”

Robert Atwood just wouldn’t give it up. “A few minutes. Please.”

Sam slid off the chair and grabbed her thumb. “We go. I hep.” He granted Antonia a shy little smile.

“Joleen,” Robert said, making a command out of the sound of her name.

Lord, give me strength, Joleen prayed to her maker. She reminded herself of her original goal here: to develop a reasonably friendly relationship with Sam’s daddy’s parents. “All right. Let me get through the cutting of the cake. And the toasts. Then we can talk.”

“Thank you.”

“But only for a few minutes.”

“I do understand.”

Joleen kept Sam with her, while DeDe and Wayne cut the cake and after, as the guests took turns proposing toasts to the happy couple. Then she handed Sam back to her sister, who was now clad comfortably in her favorite black jeans.

By then it was a little past seven, and growing dark. The breeze had kept up, and the temperature had dropped about ten degrees. It was the next thing to pleasant now, in the backyard. Joleen went around the side of the house and plugged in the paper lanterns that she and a couple of cousins had spent the day before stringing from tree to tree.

There were “oohs” and “aahs” and a smattering of applause as the glow of the lanterns lit up the deepening night. Joleen felt a glow of her own inside. She had done a good job for her sister. In spite of more than one near disaster, it was stacking up to be a fine wedding, after all.

Camilla had a decent stereo system in the house. And yesterday, after the lantern stringing, Joleen and her cousins had wired up extra speakers and set them out on the patio. So they had good, clear music for dancing. DeDe and Wayne were already swaying beneath the lanterns, held close in each other’s arms. So were Aunt LeeAnne and her husband, Uncle Foley, and a number of other couples as well—including Joleen’s mother. Camilla moved gracefully in the embrace of yet another middle-aged admirer.

“You did good, Jo.” Dekker had come up beside her.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.” He was staring out at the backyard, his eyes on the dancers.

Joleen thought of Los Angeles again, wondered what had happened there. She was just about to make another effort at prying some information out of him when she remembered the Atwoods.

She supposed she’d better go looking for them.

Dekker sensed her shift in mood. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothin’. Much. I have to say goodbye to the Atwoods.”

His brows had drawn together. “I don’t like the way you said that. What’s going on?”

Teasingly, she bumped his arm with her elbow. “You are such a suspicious man.”

“When it comes to Robert Atwood, you bet I am. I don’t trust him.”

“I noticed. He wants a few minutes with me before they leave, that’s all.”

“A few minutes for what?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’m sure he’s plannin’ to tell me. When he gets me alone.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Dekker. Chill.”

“‘When he gets you alone.’ What does that mean?”

“It means I am giving him five minutes. In Daddy’s study.”

“Why? I can tell by the way you’re hugging yourself and sighing that you don’t want to do that.”

“I want to make it work with them.”

“People do not always get what they want.”

“Dekker—”

He cut her off. “It’s pride, Joleen. You know it is. You’re ashamed that you had such bad judgment about Bobby. You want them to be different from him. But Jo, they raised him. You have to face that.”

“I was a fool with Bobby. This is different.”

“No. No, I don’t think it is.”

“You think I’m still a fool?”

He made a sound low in his throat. “Damn it, Jo…”

She stood on tiptoe and whispered to him. “It is only five minutes. Then they will leave and we can enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You are too damn trusting.”

She planted a quick kiss on his square jaw. “Gotta go.”

He was silent as she walked away from him, but she could feel his disapproval, like a chill wind on the warm night. She shrugged it off.