The Last Bridge Home. Linda Goodnight
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“They weren’t going to be happy about it?”
“Not even close. I was on scholarship, shooting for the big leagues. My dream was theirs, too. They would have been crushed.”
Jilly understood the feeling. She was crushed. Decimated. Shove a stick of dynamite in her heart and light the fuse.
“Her old boyfriend, the baby’s father, came by one day while I was in class and away she went. Her note said she’d filed for divorce to be with her soul mate.” He made a grim face. “Some soul mate.”
Jilly straightened, a fragile glimmer of hope flaring. “Then you aren’t married.”
“I don’t want to be. Never intended to be. At the time, I was too busy and dumb to consider she might not follow through.”
Jilly’s hope crashed and burned. “She didn’t.”
“No.” Zak let out an agitated sound. Mugsy licked his hand in consolation. “Looking back, I should have known. Crystal wasn’t the kind of girl who followed through with anything. Ever.”
“Oh, Zak,” she moaned. “You have a wife. You’re married.”
“No!” He slapped both hands to the sides of his head, fingers digging into his short brown hair. Surprised by the vehemence, the two dogs leaped to the floor. Zak dropped his arms, shoulders sagging, and on a long sigh said, “Yes. Technically, I guess I am.”
Jilly wondered if God believed in technicalities, but figured now was not the time to ask. Zak was more than freaked out. She gripped his forearm with her fingers. He was trembling. Or was that her?
“Okay, let’s think about this rationally,” she said. Yeah, right, and while we’re at it, let’s fly to Mars. “Why is Crystal here now? What does she want? A divorce? Like in that movie, Sweet Home Alabama?” Please Lord, let that be it. If Crystal divorced him, Zak would be free. Then another, much worse thought hit her. “Or did she change her mind after all this time and want you back?”
Jilly hated the thoughts running through her head. Ways to get Zak out of a marriage when marriage was ordained by God. What was wrong with her?
She knew the answer to that one. She loved a married man. She wanted him for herself. What kind of horrible person was she?
“Crystal has cancer,” he said flatly. “She doesn’t have much time left.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Guilt rushed in. The woman was dying and all Jilly could think about was how to steal her husband. “She’s so young.”
She wanted to ask what Crystal’s illness had to do with Zak, but guilt wouldn’t let her. “Why did she come to you? For money? Or what?”
“I don’t even know where she lives,” he said numbly. “Or what she’s been doing for the last ten years. It’s obvious she doesn’t have much. She’s broke and sick and alone.”
Compassion, usually welcome, rose in Jilly. As much as she disliked the words, she forced them out. “If she needs your help, you have to give it.”
“I know, but I can’t do what she asked. I just can’t.” He took her hand, a casual gesture.
“Tell me. Maybe I can help.”
“I don’t think so.” He lifted her fingers one by one, traced a spray of freckles across the back and then gripped her hand with such force that she knew he was about to say something momentous. As if having a wife wasn’t momentous enough. “She asked me to take her kids—” he hesitated “—after…”
Jilly frowned. What was momentous about that? Crystal was desperately ill with little time left. “Until her family comes for them?”
He released her hand and sat back. “There is no family, Jilly. No one. She doesn’t have a single person anywhere to turn to. No one except me—the long-lost husband who didn’t even know he was one.”
Zak’s meaning seeped in, slow and deadly as arsenic. He not only had a wife, but he was also about to become a father.
Zak watched the color drain from Jilly’s face. Her freckles popped out like rust stars against a porcelain sky. She had beautiful skin, a fact he noticed every time she blushed, which was often. She made a tiny noise of distress and Zak resisted the urge to toss his arm over her shoulders and give her a hug. He didn’t like seeing Jilly upset, especially when he was the cause.
“You sent her away,” she said, blue eyes sad and dismayed.
“What else could I do? I’m not their father. I don’t even know her.”
“But now that she’s gone, you’re having second thoughts.”
“Yes, of course I am!” What kind of man would he be if he didn’t? He dragged both hands down his face and blew from his lips like a horse. “She’s dying, Jilly. I feel like a piece of scum for refusing her anything. At the same time, I’m not the person for the job. I can’t be a father to three strange, grieving, needy children. I don’t want to be. I can’t be. The whole idea is nuts.” He was starting to get hysterical. Zak Cool, the pitcher with ice water in his veins and fire in his left arm, was teetering on the edge.
Jilly pushed Satchmo off her lap. “Go lay down.”
“I wish I could,” Zak said and when Jilly rolled blue eyes at him, he grinned a little at his joke. “Dogs are lucky. When something upsets them, they can go to sleep and forget about it.”
Jilly wasn’t amused. If anything, she’d gone even paler. A tiny, worried pulse beat in the hollow of her throat. “You’re not a dog. You can’t go to sleep and forget about it. So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I gave her some money. She was broke, exhausted, sick.” He scrubbed his face with both hands, not that it did a bit of good. “Man, I’m a jerk.”
Jilly pushed at Satchmo who tried to regain her lap. “Was she going back to her home?”
He hadn’t asked. He’d been so busy getting her out of his house, his driveway, his life that he hadn’t asked what she would do or where she would go. “She looked tired. I suggested she go to a motel.”
“Kitty’s place?”
“Yeah.” He’d soothed himself with the thought that Kitty Carter ran a clean, safe, reasonably priced motel. “Maybe I should call Kitty and ask her to keep an eye on them.”
“I don’t know, Zak. This doesn’t seem right to me.”
“Nothing is right today. I want a replay.”
“I’m sure Crystal does, too.”
“Thanks for kicking me in the teeth,” he said wryly. “I deserved that.”
“Maybe you should go over there and bring them back here.”
“Here? To my place? Are you nuts?”
“Regardless of the particulars, regardless of when or why you married her, she’s legally still your wife.”
“What if she’s lying?” he asked, desperate to be free of this problem.
“Wouldn’t that be easy to check?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe she’s only saying this because she remembers me as a soft touch.”
“Zak,” Jilly admonished softly.
“I don’t want to be married, Jilly. Not to anyone, but certainly not to a woman I don’t remember very well who is dying of cancer and wants to give me three kids.” He could hear how shallow and selfish he sounded, but this was his life she was talking about!
“That’s exactly the point. Crystal is dying. She needs you right now. Don’t you think it’s terribly, pathetically sad that she has