Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

Alice wrinkled her nose and swallowed the foulest tasting spit. How was she going to get out of this one?

She glanced at her phone, sticking between tattered edges of couch cushions.
Leave. Avoid the confrontation.
Justin was a jerk. He got her into this mess and the best he could do to get her out was advising her to leave until he figured out what she should say? Alice squeezed the keys in her hand and growled. Morgan was blocking her car. Now what, genius?

Between being trapped and being told what to do, Alice snapped. She wasn’t going to be a prisoner in her own home, and she wasn’t going to let Justin put words in her mouth. She’d been standing up for herself too long.

Peeking between the curtains again, she watched an intimidating Morgan cross the lawn. True, Alice didn’t want to face the banshee any more than she wanted to face what happened between her and Justin in that bed, but she was used to not getting what she wanted.

Sometimes low expectations were an advantage.

Alice dropped the curtain from her hand and stalked toward the screen door.

“We need to talk.”

Morgan’s voice made Alice falter two steps from the door.

“I got nothing to say. Go on. Get.” Charlie talked to her like he talked to the dog.

Alice smiled and took another step.

“Don’t be that way. Charlie, look at me.”

What the heck?
Alice froze again, close enough to the screen that she held her breath for fear of being heard. Why was Morgan’s tone so familiar, pleading, even?

“Charlie, I’m pregnant.”

Alice gasped, and the tail end of the gasp turned to a squeak — a loud squeak.

“Was that the dog?” Morgan asked.

Alice wished, but it wasn’t. It was her, and the rock-hard ball in her gut told her she’d overheard something Morgan didn’t want her to hear.

“Mouse,” Morgan called, but Alice knew the mutt was long gone, making up for lost time, chasing crows.

There was a shuffle and the sound of hard-soled shoes on the porch. “Is it Alice? Son of a … Alice, are you in there?”

“Morgan, go.” Rustling mixed with Charlie’s voice, and then Alice saw Morgan’s hand wrap around the screen doorknob.

The jig was up. With her hands to her heart, Alice closed her eyes and readied to face the banshee.

“Go,” Charlie roared, and when he did, Alice opened her eyes to see Morgan’s hand had disappeared from the door.

A few thuds, and then quiet. Was Charlie carrying Morgan off the porch? Was she struggling as he dragged her to her car? What the hell was going on? Alice leaned ever-so-slightly forward for a glimpse out the screen door.

“Alice,” Morgan screamed.

The couple wasn’t off the porch. Morgan stood with hands on Charlie’s waist, while Charlie’s hands were wrapped around her upper arms. Intense? Yes. But intimate, too. Alice’s eyes widened.

“Don’t come out here,” Charlie warned.

Alice inhaled and rolled her shoulders back, stepping into full view. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

When she walked onto the porch, Charlie let go of Morgan and spun on Alice, stomping a cowboy boot against the rotting wood. “Damn it. Go back inside. You’re going to make things worse.” He grabbed her shoulder and shoved.

The pressure of his fingers stung, and Alice thought to fight back, but then she saw Morgan, eyes wet, lip quivering. Good God, she was pregnant? But by whom?

Alice opened her mouth to catch some air.

“No.” Morgan poked a shaky finger around Charlie at Alice. “You do not get to speak. You said enough in that church, and believe me, I’d be strangling you right now if … ” — she smoothed the same hand across an oversized silver belt buckle and then down the front of her pencil-slim skirt — “ … I thought it would solve anything.”

“Is it mine?” Charlie released Alice and tipped his head, rolling his eyes to the peeling porch ceiling. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

Or is it Justin’s?
Alice’s stomach flipped. She wasn’t sure which answer was worse. If it was Charlie’s, there went the Cramers screwing up things again. If it was Justin’s … Alice held a hand to her mouth. The idea of Justin having a baby with anyone but her …

Morgan stood ramrod straight, glaring at Charlie’s back. Not a muscle moved in her body until a large lump appeared at her throat. Alice watched the knot slide down until it disappeared beneath the crisp collar of Morgan’s blouse. “I’m not having this conversation in front of her.”

“Fine. Then we won’t have this conversation.” Charlie lifted his head and reached for the screen doorknob.

“Charlie, stop.” The panic in Morgan’s voice revved Alice’s heart rate and thickened her confusion. “Of course, it’s yours.” Morgan winced.

Of course? Alice whimpered. Charlie was going to be a father.

He turned to face Morgan, nodding once. Twice. Alice couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his shock. “Are you going to kill it?”

Morgan gasped. “No. How could you even … ” And then all her lawyerly composure fled her face. Nostrils flared. Eyes bulged. And a wail left her lips. She flung at him, driving fists into his chest. “Why, Charlie? Why? Why did this have to happen?”

Alice pushed off the wall and tried to wedge between them. “Stop it.”

What the hell was happening?

“Get off me.” Morgan took a swipe at Alice’s face, scratching her jaw, causing a burn beneath her skin. “You shouldn’t be here. You … ” Morgan swiped again.

Charlie shoved Alice out of the way and wrapped an arm around Morgan’s waist, hauling her off the porch. “Calm the hell down.”

Alice backed into the house for balance. There was so much — too much — struggling for space in her head. Charlie and Morgan weren’t a drunken one-night stand? Justin would be devastated. Morgan was pregnant with Charlie’s baby. The Parrishes would be mortified. Broken engagements and cheating were bad enough, but babies out of wedlock with the “wrong kind of folk” caused an even bigger scandal for politically minded people.

At least Justin was free. He’d never take Morgan back after this.

Alice balked at the stupid, random thoughts. Justin might be free, but he wasn’t free for her. He’d never been. Despite what happened in that bed. Especially after what happened in that bed. Especially after this. Alice was Charlie’s sister. How could Justin look at her and not be reminded of everything the Cramers ruined?

“I cannot raise a baby fathered by a Cramer. My father would disown me.”

Alice flinched. True as the words were, they stung.

Charlie threw up his hands, shook his head. “Yeah. He’d take away that fancy car for sure. Maybe buy you something used instead. Hell, something American.” He fake-shuddered. “That’s hardship, I tell ya.”

Alice cringed at the sadness in his voice. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to tear Morgan apart. She wanted somebody, anybody to explain what the hell was going on.

Morgan shook her fists. “You don’t understand, Charlie. You never did. There are expectations. And this … ” — she jabbed at her belly — “ … is not one of them.”

Alice thought about slinking away. She probably could have. At the moment, Morgan was in some sort of emotional trance, ignoring Alice as she begged for Charlie’s understanding. It was surreal.

“I’m so confused,” Alice stuttered.

“Oh my God.” Morgan slapped her palms to her forehead. “Why are you still here? This doesn’t concern you. Leave.” She balled her fists again. “Charlie, listen to me. Come with me so we can talk.”

“Save your breath,” he said, climbing the stairs at a slow and heavy pace.

“No, I need to say this now so you’ll understand later … when … ”

“Do what you have to do.”

“I will. I … I’m going back to Connecticut tomorrow, where I’m going to find a family to adopt it.” Her voice shook, and when she laid a hand on her belly, Alice felt a sting in her heart. Charlie must’ve heard the waver, too, because he stopped walking. But he didn’t turn to face her. “Neither one of us can sign away rights until after the birth and a requisite number of days have passed. It’s not long, just a few days. You’re going to have to sign, Charlie. We can do it by mail, but you’re going to have to sign. End of story. No fight. Not a word.”

Charlie walked into the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

Morgan hung her head and wrung her hands. For a minute, Alice wanted to hug her — she looked that broken — but then she lifted her chin, sighed and sort of snickered. She was the spitting image of her snooty mother. “You Cramers really know how to mess things up.”

Alice didn’t blink. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes and after a few long strides, stepped onto the porch. Any semblance of the emotional wreck she’d been disappeared in anticipation of the confrontation. “If you think for a minute you can run off and open your mouth about this, think again. Charlie loves me. He would love this baby. One rumble from you, and I’ll be forced into an abortion.” She blinked too much, too fast, and her brows dipped to touch above her nose. Again she clutched her belly. “That would kill Charlie.” Her lips twisted as she nodded. “And it would be your fault.”

How dare she garner sympathy and threaten all in one breath? Anger sat heavy on Alice’s chest until she opened her mouth and sucked enough air to shatter the weight into digestible pieces. “Get off my porch.” Alice stepped forward, backing Morgan down the stairs to the grass. “And get off my lawn.”

“Gladly.” Morgan was already stomping to her car. But when she threw the door open, she stopped, drew an exaggerated breath and stared at Alice. “You know, you can’t have Justin. He’s going to be president. He and my father have plans, big plans, and they don’t include you. Can you imagine? Justin cavorting with the town joke? You’re a community college graduate who happens to be the sister of his childhood friend, the friend who knocked up his fiancée.” Her laugh sounded unhinged. “It’s a circus, Alice. You’ve caused him and this town nothing but trouble. Leave him alone.”

Alice stood on the porch long after Morgan drove away. The world outside was as topsy-turvy as her insides, and she couldn’t see a way to set things straight. If she walked inside the house, Charlie would be waiting, and if he hadn’t started drinking to dull the pain, she doubted he’d be willing to talk, to explain, to help her make sense out of what had happened. So Alice stepped off the porch and wandered over the grass to her car, which was parked with one bald tire crushing the bachelor buttons in Mama’s weed-wrought garden.

If she could get to her theatre without any more drama, she could pretend to be someone else, someone happy, someone who had a shot at her dreams.

• • •

Justin walked into the hospital lobby with his nerves steeled. He hadn’t been beyond the bronze dedication plaque, bearing his family name, since the day his father died. He avoided the sights and sounds of sickness at all cost, preferring to send elaborate flower arrangements in his place. When that didn’t work, an assistant or two delivered Congressman Mitchell’s words of encouragement. Neither impersonal gesture would work today, so he held his breath until the elevator doors closed behind him.

Alone with his discomfort, he raised his palm to his nose and breathed in the scent of his skin. It was better than the antiseptic cleaners that tried to block the smell of death. That smell remained in the lining of his nose for months after his father died.

For the hundredth time he checked his phone screen. And for the hundredth time he scolded himself. Alice wasn’t going to call, no matter what was or wasn’t happening at her house. She was on her own. She liked it that way. And he needed to stop trying to control what he had no business controlling in the first place.

The doors opened. Justin set his face, rolled his shoulders and powered his strides with shallow breaths. He shivered. Mostly because it was cold, but partly for other reasons he didn’t wish to analyze.

“Justin.”

Robert Parrish’s voice hit Justin like a smack to the base of the skull.

Justin sucked a quick breath for fortification. He didn’t want to face the fallout from his actions at the church here and now. He needed to see his mother, but slighting the man who paved Justin’s way to a congressional bid wasn’t an option. Without Robert’s money and backing, without his original plan, Justin would be … what? The question wedged into his brain with enough force to cause an instant headache.

Despite the pain, Justin conjured a neutral expression and turned to see Kitty Parrish walking away. Her heels slapped the linoleum floor like it was Justin’s face.

Robert sniffed. “Morgan is moving back to Connecticut. Kitty blames you … and that ridiculous Cramer girl, of course.” He looked around the empty halls and then stepped closer to Justin. “I, however, am a bit more … forgiving.”

Looking at the sneer on the face of the man Justin considered a mentor, he didn’t see any forgiveness. He saw cold, hard ambition, and a man who was willing to make serious concessions to accomplish his goals. Why hadn’t he seen that before?

Robert dropped a hand to Justin’s shoulder and squeezed. “Whatever happened between you and my daughter is over. She’s going quietly.” He drew a breath through his mouth, and the ensuing crackle of saliva turned Justin’s stomach. “I can’t ask for much more than that … except for proof of your commitment. You strayed from the plan, son, and I don’t like surprises. There are going to be some changes, starting with you on a shorter leash. I expect your complete cooperation.”

A shadow caught Justin’s eye, and Robert smiled extra bright, extra slimy, when a nurse passed.

“Good afternoon, Mayor Parrish.”

“Carly,” Robert said, bobbing his head in acknowledgement of her greeting. “I was just telling Justin that his mother is one lucky woman. Isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.” Carly beamed, continuing down the hall.

Robert slapped Justin’s upper arm. “Very good then. Go take care of your mother, and I’ll go find my wife.”

Not until Robert disappeared around the corner did Justin realize he hadn’t said a word. Robert dominated the conversation. Maybe he always had. This time, rather than cordial plotting and planning, he tossed barbs and — if Justin’s powers of perception weren’t mistaken — threatened with words like “shorter leash” and “complete cooperation.” Those things didn’t rest peacefully on Justin’s already troubled mind. In fact, they felt downright ominous. He’d given complete cooperation to every part of the plan — until he walked out of the church. Complete cooperation almost tethered him to a liar and a cheat. What would complete cooperation get him now? And while it was only natural for a father to question the commitment of the man who walked away from marrying his daughter, under the circumstances was it necessary to threaten with a shorter leash? Justin never failed to deliver when it mattered most. He understood the plan … the congressional seat … the plant … the presidency. He and Robert wanted the same thing, harmony in Harmony Falls.