His Woman, His Child. BEVERLY BARTON
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for me to do.”
“Be my friend. Be an uncle—a godfather—to my baby.”
“Sure. All right. Anything else?”
“Find Lowell’s murderer and bring him to justice.”
“That’s my number one priority as sheriff.”
“Be careful, Hank.” She squeezed his arm. “I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to you, too.”
Her words hit him like a sledgehammer blow to his midsection. He’d have to be a blind fool not to realize that Susan cared about him. But was that caring anything more than concern for Lowell’s best friend? Concern for the biological father of her baby?
She sat in the quiet stillness of the den as twilight approached and evening shadows fell across the room. Lucy and Ethel perched on the back of the sofa. Curled on the rug in front of the fireplace, Ricky snored softly. And Fred cuddled close to Susan’s side.
She needed to put her life back on track, to find a way to go on without Lowell. For her child’s sake and for the sake of her own sanity. She needed to get back to work. With only Scooter Bellamy, her assistant, as a full-time employee, the animal shelter was sorely understaffed. Being with the animals, caring for them and trying to find homes for them could fill the hours as nothing else could. The less she thought about herself and her situation, the better off she’d be.
Hank Bishop was going to be a part of her life for the next year. She might as well accept that fact and make the best of it. Whether she liked it or not, she did need Hank. She wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to go through eight more months of pregnancy alone, so who better to stand by her than the father of her child.
She supposed she should feel guilty for thinking of the child as Hank’s instead of Lowell’s. But the truth be known, she had always thought of the baby as Hank’s. God forgive her.
And God forgive her for not having the courage to face her feelings for Hank before she’d married Lowell. If she’d been a different kind of woman, she would have pursued Hank, done everything in her power to ensnare him, to make him fall in love with her. But the passionate feelings that Hank had always aroused in her frightened her far more than the prospect of living her life alone. Lowell had been a compromise—love, marriage and a family with a safe man, a man whose gentle love protected her from Hank Bishop.
But Lowell was gone now and nothing stood between her and her feelings for Hank. Nothing except her own fear.
Overcome that fear, she told herself. Take an uncertain, perhaps dangerous step. You’re still madly in love with Hank Bishop—and the thought of giving in to those wild, uncontrollable feelings scares you to death. Even if you get hurt, even if he leaves you, wouldn’t it be better to have known what it was like to belong to Hank, if only for a short period of time, than to die not knowing?
She reached over and picked up the telephone. Fred grunted, readjusted his fat little body and buried his nose against Susan’s leg. After taking a deep breath, she dialed the number.
“Hello?” Sheila Bishop said.
“Sheila, this is Susan. Is Hank there?”
“Yes, he is. We just finished dinner a few minutes ago. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Yes, please.”
“Is everything all right?” Sheila asked. “You sound kind of funny.”
“Everything’s fine. I just need to talk to Hank.”
“Okay.”
Susan waited, her heart thundering, her palms damp with perspiration, her mouth dry. What if she was making a mistake? What if she lived to regret taking such a bold step?
Stop second guessing yourself. For once in your meek little life, go for the gold.
After all, what did she have to lose in the long run? Oh, nothing but her self-respect and her heart.
“Hello?” Hank said.
“Hank, it’s Susan. I found you a place to live.”
“You have?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In the apartment over my garage.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
“I thought someone was living there already.”
“No. It’s empty. The young woman who lived there got married last month and moved out. I just haven’t had a chance to do anything about renting it again.”
“Are you sure about this?” He chuckled softly. “You don’t think the neighbors would talk, do you?”
She laughed. “The entire population of Crooked Oak is praising you for coming home to tie up the loose ends of Lowell’s life. I don’t think anyone will be surprised if you move close by so you can look after your best friend’s pregnant widow. That is what you said you wanted to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Susan, I want to look after you...for Lowell.”
“Then you’ll take the apartment?”
“Sure. Why not? It will make things convenient. I’d be right there, just next door, whenever you need me. How soon do you want me to move in?”
“How about tomorrow? The place is furnished, so just bring your suitcase and whatever else you brought from your Virginia apartment.”
“We can discuss rent and—”
“The rent’s free,” she said.
“I can’t accept the place rent-free.”
“Then you can earn it by doing husbandly things around the place for me.” She realized too late just what she’d said. A warm flush spread up her neck and heated her face.
“I suppose you mean things like mowing the lawn and cleaning the storm windows and—”
“Yes, of course that’s what I mean.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” He paused momentarily and then said, “How about going out to dinner tomorrow night? We could drive over to Marshallton.”
“How about my cooking dinner for us here?”
“I’ll stop by for dinner first and then you can show me the apartment. Will six o’clock be okay?”
“Yes. Six will be fine.”
Susan made her way up the wooden stairs that led to the rooms above the garage. One by one, she closed the windows she had opened early this morning to air out the place, and quickly turned on the wall heaters. She breathed in deeply and smiled. The place smelled fresh and clean. She had swept, mopped, vacuumed and dusted this morning before she’d driven to Marshallton for her first doctor’s appointment.
Carrying the bed linen, she entered the bedroom, then dropped the quilts and spread on top of the dresser and tossed the bottom sheet onto the bed. When she finished making the bed, she stood back and inspected her handiwork. This was going to be Hank’s bedroom for the next year, only a stone’s throw away from her. He was going to sleep in that bed every night—so close and yet so far away.
She could picture Hank in this room, in this bed. Did he sleep in his underwear? In pajamas? In the nude? The thought of Hank lying naked across the bed sent shivers through Susan’s body. He was tall and muscular, a big man, yet lean in his hips and belly. She could remember how he’d looked as a teenager wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff jeans when he’d washed his old car or mowed the lawn. Even then his body had been breathtakingly gorgeous. How many times had she stared at him so long and hard that Sheila and Tallie had dragged her away? As she grew older, she’d hidden her obsession with Hank more easily, until by the time he got out of college,