Mr. And Mrs. Wrong

“Not on your life. Now open the door.”

Lucky ignored her.

“Okay,” Leigh said after a few seconds, “you’re forcing me to call Jack and ask him what’s up.”

Damn her. “Hold on a second. I’m coming.”

She switched off the lights, loaded the film and screwed on the lid, tapping the tank on the counter to remove air bubbles. She set the timer and agitated the tank. “Okay, come in,” she said, flipping the light back on and unlocking the door.

“Are you pregnant?” Leigh asked without preamble.

“If I said no, would you believe me?”

“No.”

“Then yes, I’m pregnant.”

Leigh sat down hard on the stool, obviously stunned. “When did you find out?”

“Three weeks ago—or I suppose it’s four now.”

Leigh went wild. “A month! You’ve known for a month and haven’t said anything to me?”

“I wanted to tell Jack first.”

“Oh, God, Lucky, how far along are you?”

“About eight weeks. Nearly nine. I figure it was the basketball.”

“The what?”

She waved away the question with her hand. “Nothing. A…game between me and Jack. It’s not important.”

“Does he still not know?”

“Not yet. I’ve tried to tell him several times, but talking calmly about anything isn’t one of our strengths.”

Plus, the news had hit her like a bomb. She’d been too overwhelmed to think logically about how to handle it. She wanted a child, but not now. She hadn’t been married a year yet, and a third of that, she and Jack had spent apart.

“Cal didn’t suspect, did he?” she asked. “If he lets something slip…”

“He’s concerned you’re sick, but clueless about the reason. Nothing’s wrong, is there? He’s right, you do look green.”

“Other than my blood pressure being elevated, I’m healthy as a horse. The doctor said the morning sickness should go away pretty soon. She gave me a prescription for vitamins and told me to drink ginger tea to settle my stomach. The most important thing is she warned me I have to reduce my stress. That’s ironic, isn’t it? The pregnancy is what’s giving me stress.”

“Should you be fooling with these chemicals?”

“They’re safe. That’s the first thing I checked. As long as I don’t bathe in them, they can’t hurt me or the baby, but I am taking extra precautions.”

“I guess we should start looking for help, someone to do some of the shooting and processing for you. I’ve been thinking about that, anyway. I’ve put too much of a burden on you the last few months, with Dad retiring and me feeling my way along as editor.”

Lucky had known this was coming. “No, you haven’t. And I don’t need any help.”

“We’ll definitely need someone when you go on leave, so we should think about hiring a trainee or a part-time person. And you’ll probably want to stay home with the baby for a few months, maybe even the first year.”

Lucky didn’t even want to think about that right now. “We have plenty of time to work out the details. I’ll face those problems when they get here.”

“And what about your other problem? This baby changes everything for you and Jack.”

“I know. That’s what worries me. We’re already separated. What’s a baby going to do to us?”

“Lucky, if the marriage isn’t working and you’re not happy, then, for God’s sake, file for divorce and save yourself a lot of grief. It is possible to raise a child without a man around. I’m doing it and getting along fine. In fact, you’d probably be better off without him, if you want my honest opinion.”

Lucky didn’t respond. At this point she didn’t know exactly what she wanted. Maybe her sister was right. Leigh was certainly better off without Keith. The bastard had demoralized her, cleaned out their bank accounts and taken off with her best friend.

But Jack wasn’t Keith. And despite his annoying quirks, Lucky loved him and didn’t want to raise their baby alone. Jack would never allow that, anyway. He’d demand to be a part of his child’s life.

She thought she heard a noise, so she peeked out the door to make sure Cal hadn’t followed Leigh and might overhear them.

“If you’re worried about Cal, don’t be,” Leigh said. “I asked him to put together some projected advertising figures for the remainder of the year. That should keep him busy for an hour. He’s absolutely orgasmic about being able to run a spreadsheet. You know how he is with that stuff.”

“I want you to be careful what you say to him, Leigh. I don’t feel right that you know before Jack does. And if Mom or Mema should find out, Lord…the whole town will know.” She agitated the tank another five seconds and checked the timer. “I think I’ve given everyone enough cause for gossip for one year.”

“I doubt I’ll have to drop hints. You’re so thin it won’t be long before you start showing and everybody guesses. You’d better tell Jack as soon as possible.”

“I will,” she said, but with little conviction.

“Lucky, do it. Don’t make things worse by having him find out some other way.”

“I will, okay? Nagging me about it won’t help. I’ll tell him.” And she would, but she dreaded it because she knew how Jack would react. He’d be thrilled. He’d want to move back in. But not for her. Not because he wanted to be with her. Only for the sake of the baby. And when that happened, she’d never be able to trust his feelings again.

She put her hand to her stomach. Her elation at becoming a mother was wrapped in resentment. A part of her wanted this baby very much. Another part of her didn’t. Because she was certain, beyond a doubt, what the news of it would do. This pregnancy would destroy any hope she had of saving her marriage.

CHAPTER THREE

LEONA HARRISON stood before the security gate and stared at the house beyond. White shutters hung at the windows and wind chimes on the porch played random notes in the breeze. The yellow paint and the flowers bordering the walk gave the place a cheery look. The yard had jasmine; she could smell it even though she couldn’t see it.

She’d learned, though, that facades, just like faces, could hide something different within. That was true of Horizon House, as well as the people of Potock. That was particularly true of the man Leona was about to visit.

Her husband had refused to come, and she guessed that was a good thing, considering how he felt. He hated Terrell. Everyone in town did. Because she was Terrell’s aunt and only surviving blood relative, they hated her, too. Twenty-one years after the tragedy, some people still crossed the street to avoid having to talk to her.

No one ever said anything ugly to her face, but the seats next to her at church were always left empty and, although she’d shopped at Hanson’s market for nearly thirty years, she’d long ago quit getting decent cuts of meat from the old man or even a polite hello from his son. The good people of the town had branded her guilty by association, just as they’d branded her nephew a killer without the benefit of a trial or a body.

Leona hesitated with her finger over the call box, wanting nothing more than to get in the car and drive home, but a promise to her dead sister, Margaret, to watch over Terrell made her go ahead and push the button. She gave her name and was let in. The residence manager came to the front door and ushered her inside.

The state had moved Terrell here five weeks ago in response to some court ruling Leona didn’t really understand. Before that, since he was seventeen, he’d lived at an institution for autistic adults up in Huntsville, and she’d dutifully driven the 240-mile round trip once a month to see him.

This place was more convenient, but having him back in the community was causing problems. The anonymous hate mail had started again, and two nights ago someone had written murderer in red paint on her front door. Since Terrell’s arrival, Horizon House had reported threatening calls.