The Pregnant Bride Wore White

“I’m sorry to take your helper away from you, Nana Mae,” he said to his grandmother, slipping into the familiar role of grandson, which had never included lying to her before. “Thank you for understanding that I want her with me.”

“There was no question about that, Jake. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine. You go on. We’ll give you lovebirds some time.”

He spotted his youngest brother then, waiting by the door, and hugged him hard. “You haven’t made up with Dixie yet, Joe?”

“Nothing’s changed.”

Jake couldn’t read anything in his voice or expression. “Give me a day, then we’ll talk. For now, we’re going to swing by Nana Mae’s house and pick up some of Keri’s things then head to my cabin,” Jake said to the happy, still teary-eyed group. “Give us a little time, okay? I’ll be in touch.”

“My truck’s loaded with all the baby gear,” Joe said. “I’ll drop it off. Dix and a few others are headed to your place now to stock your refrigerator. Then we’ll leave you alone.”

Jake nodded. “Thank you, all of you, for not asking questions about what I’ve been doing. I’m sure you’re curious, and I’ll tell you when I’m up to it.” He waited, hiding his impatience, as Keri hugged everyone, then she and Jake went with Donovan to his rented SUV.

He wondered if she would accept that he didn’t want to talk to her, either. In his experience, women needed words. He barely had enough for cohesive thought, much less conversation.

And now there was too damn much that needed talking about.

From the backseat, Keri tried to memorize the route to Jake’s house as Donovan drove them, but she got lost in the twists and turns of the forested road. She’d never seen Jake’s cabin. Aggie had asked several times if she’d like to, but Keri always said no. She didn’t think he would like her invading his personal space like that, even pregnant with his child.

Talk about invading personal space.

The thought made her smile, which disappeared when the baby shoved a foot up against her rib cage, making her straighten then arch to accommodate the little soccer player. She grunted a little as she shifted.

“You okay?” Jake asked from the front passenger seat, looking over his shoulder.

“Your child just scored a goal.”

He eyed her for a few long seconds. “Did it hurt?”

“It’s uncomfortable, not painful.”

They pulled into a gravel driveway. Tucked into a grove of trees sat a log cabin, Joe’s truck parked beside it. He came out the front door as they came to a stop.

“I stacked all the baby stuff in your office, out of the way,” Joe said. “I’ll come back and help put the crib together, or whatever else you need. Just let me know.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Jake said. He’d held out a hand to Keri to assist her from the SUV but let go of her when she was steady on her feet. “Go on in,” he said to her. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She thanked both of his brothers, then went inside, leaving the door open for him. From the window she watched the three men talk for a minute, then hug, putting a lump in her throat. Would he tell her what he‘d been doing all this time? Could he? She thought he’d been working for a private security firm the past seven years, not the government, so how was it he went deep undercover? He’d spent eight years in the army after college, working in intelligence. Or maybe special ops. He was vague about it all. All she knew for sure was he was fluent in a whole bunch of languages, and those skills had been utilized constantly by the military.

As soon as he headed toward the cabin with her suitcases, she turned around and surveyed the room. The ultimate guy space, she thought, all wood and dark colors, a huge rock fireplace, contemporary kitchen, big-screen television. The bedroom and office must be down the hallway. After spending all that time in Nana Mae’s house, with its lace curtains and delicate furniture, this was like entering a dungeon. Not a whole lot of sunlight found its way indoors.

There were framed photos spread along the sofa table, pictures of his family, including one that included all thirty-one McCoys, one with Aggie and his late father, a sweet one with his grandmother and a couple in which he wore an army uniform, one with an arm slung over another man’s shoulders, the other with a group of ten men. She was glad he left the pictures out in the open, glad he hadn’t shut away that part of his life.

Jake came through the open doorway as she waited. She saw a change come over him, in his posture, his expression, his breathing, the reality of being home overwhelming. He set the suitcases down and looked around. His shoulders slumped. After a few long seconds, he moved down the hallway, opened a door and went inside, shutting it behind him, leaving her standing and watching. Silence followed, agonizing silence.

Time dragged. Into the fourth hour she heated a mug of soup and carried it onto the front porch as the sun set. The rich minestrone comforted her in the unfamiliar surroundings, a stark reminder of how little she knew about Jake, even though all they’d done was talk for the three days they were locked in a cell together.

Well, that wasn’t all they’d done, given that she’d ended up pregnant—

The screen door opened, and Jake stepped onto the porch. He glanced her way, then stood between the rough-hewn posts at the top of the stairs, arms folded, feet planted, and looked out at his property, with its tall pine and majestic old oak trees, manzanita dotting the landscape, as well, and small boulders. The land was untamed by hoe or lawn mower. There was plenty of greenery, but nothing in bloom, even though it was spring. Keri had come to love the Mother Lode area of Northern California, so different from anywhere else she’d lived.

His shirt was wrinkled, as if he’d not only worn it to bed but hadn’t moved an inch the whole time. One side of his face held indentations from the pillowcase.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said, when she couldn’t stand his silence any longer.

He nodded. She waited, wishing for a rocking chair, which would at least give her something to do, but his porch held only two Adirondack chairs.

“There’s minestrone soup in the fridge,” she said. “I could heat some up for you. If you’d rather have some rotisserie chicken, there’s that, and plenty of salad vegetables.”

“Thanks. I’ll get it when I’m ready.”

She started to stand, then realized she couldn’t gracefully get out of the deeply slanted chair, so she settled back again. “Your mom told me that you’re not here often.”

“A few times a year.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and rested one foot on a lower porch rail, still not looking at her.

“So you’re usually on the road?” she asked.

He sort of laughed. “On the road,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You know what I do for a living.”

“I know you do high-level security work. I know you carry a gun. But I don’t know why you would go undercover for five months.”

When he didn’t answer, she said, “Am I not allowed to ask questions? You intimated I had a hand in it somehow, because of the kidnapping. Don’t I have the right to know what that means?”

He finally turned around. Keri rested her hands on her belly, her fingers splayed, protective.

“Let me settle in. I need to get it all clear in my mind first. A lot happened. I do apologize for leaving you alone earlier. Honestly, I didn’t have another word in me.”

“That’s understandable.” She shifted her hands, deciding to shift the conversation, too. “The baby’s moving.”

His gaze dropped.

“Space is tight now,” she said, “so it’s pretty confined. I can’t feel the movements as easily as a month ago. I love lying in the bathtub watching the baby move. It’s slow motion, but it always amazes me. Would you like to feel it?”

He hesitated. “Not right now,” he said finally.

She didn’t push. There was nothing else to say except, “I’m glad you’re home.”

It was as if someone had turned off a switch inside him. “This isn’t home,” he said.

“It isn’t? You have another house somewhere?”

“No. This is the only house I own, but it’s just a house. It’s a tax deduction, and privacy when I need to be in town. If it weren’t for my family, I would never have bought the place, any place. I travel light.”

“I do, too, as a matter of practicality, not choice. You and my parents would get along really well.”

There was a long pause. “I imagine I’ll find that out for myself sometime in the future.”

She pictured him meeting her parents. The only thing they had in common with Jake was traveling light. He was serious and controlled. Her parents were…neither. They were good people, though, kind and selfless.

Keri looked around her, patting the chair arms several times, wondering where to take the conversation next. “This feels like a home to me. You have mementos. Pictures. It’s furnished and decorated.”

“My sister Cher insisted. She always was bossy. Comes from being the firstborn, I think.”

Keri was glad to see him finally smile. “I like all your sisters.”

“Me, too.” He pushed away from the railing. “Minestrone, you said?”

“And chicken. Salad. Sourdough bread.” She extended her arms. “Would you give me a hand up, please?”

He hadn’t allowed enough space between them, so her belly bumped him. He took a quick step back.

“I know it’s a shock,” she said hesitantly.

“I should’ve known something was up, given Donovan’s conversation during the drive here. You know he’s a journalist, right? I’m used to him asking questions. He always had an insatiable curiosity, that stereotypical “why? why? why?” kid. But he was pushing for more information about the kidnapping today, instead of the job I’ve been doing that took me out of touch.”

“You mean you hadn’t told him about us being kidnapped?” She remembered back to the time when she first met Donovan in the diner, and the cold, hard look he’d given her when he found out who she was. She figured Jake had clued him in.

“I did, but I didn’t tell him your name.”

“He came to his own conclusions, then. I’ve only seen him once since Christmas. He came home for a wedding. Noah Falcon?”

Jake looked surprised. “Noah got married? That’s great. I was here for his brother David’s wedding in November.”

“Their other brother, Gideon, got married, too. He and his wife are expecting. So are David and his wife.”

Jake followed her into the house. “So the Falcon brothers are off the market. That was a long time coming.”

“Not as long as for the McCoy brothers,” she said, keeping her tone light, glancing behind her.

He shrugged. “I suppose it’s a record that’ll hold for a while longer. Unless Joe comes to his senses about Dixie.”

The fact that he didn’t even consider he might get married himself cut into Keri like a knife. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but she’d thought it would at least be something he’d think about. As she had.

That’s what she got for having expectations. They almost always turned out different from reality.

And if Jake wondered why she hardly said a word to him the rest of the evening, he didn’t ask.

Chapter Three

Jake watched Keri keep herself busy all evening. When he wouldn’t let her heat up his soup, she disappeared into his office and began going through the stacks of baby items, coming out with tiny clothes and blankets to put in the washer, apparently a requirement before letting a baby’s skin come in contact with them. Then she sat at the dining room table to write thank-you notes. They hadn’t spoken, unless out of necessity, since he’d come indoors.

He’d probably said something that bothered her, but he didn’t know what—and she wasn’t talking.

Anyway, he was ready to be alone, and it didn’t look like she was headed to bed anytime soon.

He’d channel surfed the television stations as much as he could stand it, sometimes paying attention for a while, sometimes zoning out, the volume not up loud enough to intrude into his thoughts if he didn’t want it to. Sometimes he watched Keri as she made her way to and from the laundry room, her belly a constant reminder of the time they’d shared, and the unknowns of the future.

Donovan would probably insist they get a DNA test, as Keri had offered, to make sure the baby was Jake’s, but he didn’t doubt her. She may have defied him—with what she considered good reason—but she hadn’t ever lied, even when it made her look bad.

“You can have the bedroom,” he said when he saw her finally yawn and stretch. It was almost eleven o’clock.

“Of course I won’t do that. You need good rest. I’ll be fine on the couch.” She stacked her thank-you notes neatly, set her pen precisely beside them and came into the living room space.

“You’ll take the bedroom,” he repeated, an order this time. He needed to be able to move around, not feel hemmed in. To be able to go outdoors if he wanted.

She sat on the coffee table, facing him, their knees almost touching. “Do you need to be alone?”

“Yes.”

“All you have to do is tell me, Jake—whatever it is you need. I can’t anticipate it. Please just be direct. It’ll save us both a lot of grief and confusion.”

“All right.” Would she do the same?

She headed out of the room but turned around when she reached the hall. “I usually have to get up a couple of times during the night,” she said, gesturing toward the only bathroom in the house.

He wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. “Do you need a light kept on?”

“No. I just didn’t want to startle you.”

“I appreciate the warning. I’ll keep my boxers on so I don’t startle you.”

She laughed, the pitch almost hurting his ears. He realized he hadn’t heard her laugh before. It was a good sound, a healthy one. After months of hearing only men’s voices, men who spoke only Spanish, her laugh seemed musical.

She grinned. “Feel free to be comfortable, whatever that means to you.”

“And since you’ve already seen it all…”

“That’s not true,” she said softly. “It was dark. I only…felt.”

A heavy curtain of silence dropped between them, the moment of humor gone because of a memory that could never fade. A child would be born of it.

He’d only felt, too—Keri’s long, lean body and firm breasts and smooth rear. Her mouth—God, her mouth.

As if she heard his thoughts, she pressed her fingers to her lips. He stared.

“Good night, Jake,” she said, a little breathless, then hurried down the hall.

He didn’t expect to sleep. Earlier he’d fallen asleep instantly in his own bed, but it was dark now, and quiet. No sounds of men snoring, or shouting as they slept. No witnessing violence done to others, unable to stop it without blowing his cover. He’d had to keep the bigger picture in mind.

He wished he could snap his fingers and have the memories disappear. Instead they held court in his head. After hours of pacing and prowling, he dropped onto the sofa and turned off the television, stretching out, still fully dressed, and tucking a small pillow under his head. He shoved his fingers through his hair. He needed to get it cut, take away yet another reminder of where he‘d been.

He closed his eyes but still saw too much. He probably should take the sleeping pills Donovan had gotten from Doc Saxon for him—except he needed to be able to hear the sounds around him.

He jolted as he heard a door open, then realized it was Keri. Light from the bedroom spilled into the hallway enough that he could see her glance toward the living room as she crossed to the bathroom on a whisper of sound. When she came out, she headed toward him instead of the bedroom. He closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to talk.

But after a few seconds he felt something being laid over him—an afghan Nana Mae had crocheted for him one Christmas. He usually kept it on the back of an overstuffed chair.

Jake felt the warmth of the blanket even before she turned away. It smelled…clean.

“Keri.” He propped himself up on an elbow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”

“I was awake. Be glad I was.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“It’s risky, okay?”

“What? To touch you? I didn’t touch you.”

“The blanket did. Just don’t do it. For your own sake.”

“All right.”

“Have you slept?” he asked.

“Mostly, yes.”

“Even though you’re in a new place with a man you barely know and are about to give birth?”

“I’ve had nightmares for months. Tonight I didn’t.” She gave a little wave and left.

Nightmares. Were hers anything like his? Did she wake up swinging?

Unable to fall asleep, he turned on the television again, settling on a rerun of Friends. He must’ve slept a little, but as soon as the sky lightened, he grabbed his car keys and left the house, needing to get out where he could breathe. Needing not to talk to Keri until he’d given more thought to their situation, wanting to reconcile his memory of her and how he’d clung to it all this time, with the facts before him—that she was here in his hometown. And pregnant.

Primal, protective instincts were overtaking him. He needed to think more logically about everything. Which meant not making small talk first thing this morning.

He drove without a destination, then ended up at Joe’s place. Donovan would be bunking with their youngest brother.

Jake pulled up beside the house, one Joe had shared with Dixie for the better part of ten years, on and off. Off again now, though. Jake didn’t mind waking Joe up, but he would’ve thought twice about dropping in so early had Dixie still cohabited.

Joe was already up, however, walking through his garden, a mug of coffee in hand as he deadheaded flowers. His job as a landscaper started early each day.

“Got some more of that?” Jake asked, indicating the mug.

“Donny’s here. What do you think?”

Which meant there was always a pot being brewed.

Jake followed his brother into the house, then into the kitchen. “The place looks good. You painted the outside.”

“Yeah. Group project.”

“Family project.”

Joe nodded, a slight, aggrieved smile on his face. He took a mug from the cupboard, poured Jake a cup then they both leaned against the counter and sipped.

“Looks like you’re doing most of the gardens in town, Joe. It’s all photo worthy.”

“I have a crew of twenty now. We’re busy all the time. Not just residential but quite a few commercial accounts. It’s steady and profitable.”

Jake wondered at Joe’s low-key responses and tone. He used to be the liveliest brother, the most outgoing and talkative. He looked the same—his shower-wet brown hair was tied back in the ponytail he’d had since he was fourteen, and he wore a T-shirt, shorts and work boots, as usual—but something had changed.

“Think Dixie would cut my hair?” Jake asked.

“I’m sure of it, but are you sure you want her to? She’ll ask questions.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to answer them.”

Joe shifted slightly. “Thanks for having Donny tell me what was going on. I worried less. Sort of,” he added with a small smile.

“I figure Donny’s in risky situations often enough, too. I wanted more than just him to know what was happening. Who to contact. You’re the only one who came to mind. I know a lot of extra responsibility has been put on you, Joe, since Dad died.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know that, too. I just wanted you to know I appreciate it.”

“Me, too,” Donovan said, coming into the kitchen and heading straight for the coffeepot. “I don’t say it often enough.”

“True.” Turning to Jake, Joe said, “Speaking of extra responsibility and what you’ve been doing these past months, I don’t know how Keri fits in. Where she fits in.”

Jake hoped by talking about it, some of the memories would fade. He was tired of living with them all the time. “Keri and I were kidnapped together, along with the man she’d been private nurse to for several months.”

“Kidnapped? And this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I’m telling you now, Joe. Hidalgo Escobar, Keri’s patient, had been on the waiting list for a liver transplant for months.”

“In Venezuela?”

“Yes. I was on an assignment there and had come across intelligence that Escobar was a target of a hardcore kidnapping group, one that makes a living off ransoming people. I tracked down Escobar and warned him—and Keri, too, since she was always with him. They were supposed to wait for a helicopter to take them to the hospital when they got the call that a liver had been found for him. The helicopter never showed, so they headed to the hospital, a two-hour drive from Caracas.”

He and Keri had argued that first time he’d met her, but that wasn’t something he would tell Joe. In the end, she hadn’t taken his advice, had specifically gone against it, in fact, because she felt she had to, that Escobar’s survival depended on it.

“She didn’t call you?” Joe asked.

“They hadn’t hired me, but when the copter didn’t show, she did call me.” He’d told her to stay put, but she’d insisted the transplant team wouldn’t wait long before contacting the next person on the list. “What was I supposed to do? Let her take Escobar alone? Unfortunately, for medical reasons, she refused to wait. I met them on the road to Caracas, but it was too late. We were accosted by armed men, forced into their van, blindfolded and taken to a location miles away.”

Jake dumped his coffee down the drain, the taste suddenly bitter. “It was an inside job, involving someone at the hospital who knew all the details—Escobar’s address and when he would be on his way. The helicopter was prevented from taking off. My presence was a surprise, but everything else was according to plan. They knew they could get a lot of money for Escobar anytime, but especially right at that moment, when his life depended on it.”

Joe joined him at the sink. “So he was ransomed?”

“Within hours.”

“But not you?”

“Or Keri.” The leader of the gang, a loose cannon named Marco, had taken a fancy to her. They’d decided to demand a ransom for Jake but keep Keri for a while. Jake wouldn’t give them a contact for himself. He wouldn’t leave Keri alone, period.

“What happened?”

“One of the kidnappers got us out.” There was much more to it, of course, an internal power struggle, a disgust of Marco’s intentions by José, the man who helped Jake and Keri escape. José had been killed for it.

“So, when you were home over Labor Day last year,” Joe said, “this had already happened? That was why you were keeping to yourself so much?”

“Yeah.”

“How does Keri fit in? Why didn’t she come back with you?”

Jake rested a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “That’s all I want to say about it for now. And it’s between us, okay?”

“Hey. Goes without saying, Jake.”

The sound of the front door stopped further conversation.

“Where are my boys?” Aggie’s voice filled the house.

“In the kitchen, Mom,” Joe called out, then fired a “good luck” look at Jake.

Aggie breezed through the doorway. She was a vibrant sixty-seven-year-old widow of ten years with a great laugh and a big heart. The McCoy children had been raised to know unconditional love—and little privacy, which some of her children handled better than others.

“I saw your car out front,” she said to her oldest son, passing him a plastic container. “Apple turnovers.”

“I was coming to see you next,” Jake said honestly, giving her a hug.

“Isn’t this a rare treat, having all my boys here at the same time.” She accepted the mug of coffee Donovan handed her. “I expect you’ll be gone soon, though, hm, Donny?”

He shrugged. “I’m thinking I’ll hang around a while longer, if Joe doesn’t mind. Or maybe I’m cramping your style?”

Joe looked over the rim of his mug at Donovan. “Nana Mae’s going to need some help now that Keri has moved out.”