A convenient proposal

“What about their mother?”

“She’s trash. Forget about her.”

Mick doubted it would be that easy for Billy and Amanda. “The situation’s a bit more complicated, don’t you think?”

“Tell you what.” Strongman leaned over his legs, shortening the distance between their faces. “Either you take control of those kids or I will.”

Mick went silent in his shock. Was Strongman serious? Would he apply to the courts for custody of his grandchildren? One thing Mick knew for sure—he couldn’t stand to see Billy and Amanda raised by this man.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

“Good.” Strongman got to his feet and dusted off his pants as if he’d been sitting in something soiled. “I expect you to live up to that, or you’ll be hearing from me.”

“WOULD YOU LIKE DESSERT, ABBY?”

Mick glanced at his watch as he took a sip of water. Nine-thirty. He hoped the kids were in bed and that Sharon was sticking to her promise not to drink. He’d taken her to an AA meeting yesterday, after her doctor’s appointment, but she’d attended reluctantly and that wasn’t a good sign.

“I’m not sure.” His date surveyed the choices on the menu. “Are you in a hurry?” Her gaze shifted to his watch, and he realized she’d noticed him checking the time.

“No. Absolutely not. I was thinking I might like the mixed berry crisp.”

Abby smiled. “Sounds good.”

Mick held in a sigh and signaled the waiter. “Two crisps, please. And a coffee for me.”

“And you, miss?” the waiter asked. “More wine, perhaps?”

“Oh, no. I’ll have coffee, too. Only make mine decaf.”

Mentally, Mick ticked off a point in her favor. This was their fifth date and so far he hadn’t seen her drink more than one glass of wine in an evening.

Really, on all counts she was perfect. He credited his screening process for that. He’d asked her out because she was a kindergarten teacher. That had to mean she liked small kids, he’d figured. And sure enough, every time she discussed her work, her face took on a warm glow. He’d noticed she also had a soft spot for animals. They couldn’t pass a dog on the street without her stopping.

As far as Mick was concerned, he was ready to propose right this minute. The visit from Max Strongman had increased the pressure on his need to marry—and quickly. If it came to a custody showdown between him and Strongman, surely the fact that he had a wife and could offer a two-parent home would stand in his favor.

But although he sensed Abby liked him a lot, he did think she’d consider that moving a bit too quickly.

“Are you worried about something, Mick?”

Her hand felt warm and gentle on his arm, reminding him of the one minor problem with this courtship. He wasn’t really attracted to her, had never felt the urge to go beyond their tender but brief good-night kisses.

That would change with time, he was sure. Abby was cute and blond, with generous curves in all the right places.

“A little, I guess.” He smiled and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry I’m not being very good company.”

He watched as rosy color filled her cheeks. “That’s okay. I just hope I haven’t been boring you with my stories.”

“Not at all,” he said, meaning it. More than anything, he enjoyed her vignettes about the children in her class. It was so obvious how much she cared for all of them.

“It’s just that some of my past boyfriends haven’t been that interested. But I guess you must like kids.”

“I do.” Two in particular.

Abby must have read his mind. “How old are your niece and nephew?”

“Amanda’s the baby. She’s only three. Billy just turned five.”

“Does he go to kindergarten?”

Mick frowned. “Not that I know of.”

Abby shook her head. “He should have registered this fall. I suppose his father’s death…”

Mick wondered if that was why Sharon hadn’t enrolled him. But Danny had died mid-September, several weeks into the school year.

“I’ll look into it, Abby. Is it too late for him to start this year?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good.” As coffee and dessert were delivered, Mick took stock of the evening. It might be too early to ask Abby to be his wife, but maybe the time was right for her to meet the kids.

“How would you feel about going out for pizza on Friday?” he asked.

“Really?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah. I thought I might bring Billy and Amanda along. Give Sharon a bit of a break.”

“Well, that’s a nice idea, but, Mick, I’m not really sure if we should continue to see each other.”

Whoa! Mick froze. Had he been reading the signals wrong, then? He’d been so sure she was interested in him. “Don’t like pizza?” he said, trying to sound lighthearted.

Abby’s smile appeared sad. “Don’t get me wrong, Mick. I’ve enjoyed going out with you. But the feeling isn’t mutual, is it?”

“I like you, Abby. Very much, in fact.”

“You don’t kiss me as if you like me,” she said frankly. “And you don’t… Oh, I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words.”

“I realize I’m kind of reserved. People are always telling me that.”

Her eyes brightened a little.

“Give us a bit more time, Abby. To get comfortable with each other.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Absolutely.” He squeezed her hand and hoped that every warm feeling he had for her was reflected in his eyes.

The color in her face grew deeper. “Mick, if you had any idea…” Her voice trailed away, then she sighed. “Why don’t you call me Thursday. We should both spend a few days thinking about where we’re heading.”

Straight to a justice of the peace. Of course, he couldn’t say that. “Okay, Abby. If that’s the way you want it.”

She just sighed again, and he wondered what the hell had happened. They’d been off to such a promising start.

Maybe someone had filled her in on the Mizzoni family history, and that was where her doubts were springing from. Abby hadn’t lived in Canmore all her life as he had. She’d moved here after graduation from the University of Calgary.

Perhaps she’d told one of her colleagues who she was dating, and they’d relayed the story about his mother, her drinking and her “boyfriends,” then the trouble he and Danny had both courted in their youth. He’d straightened out in his teens, thanks to a wonderful man who’d volunteered for the Boy Scouts. Harvey Tomchuk had helped Mick see possibilities for a way of life Mick had always felt was out of reach.

An accountant in his day job, Harvey had soon discovered Mick’s love of writing and convinced him to pursue a career in journalism. Now Mick was editor of the Canmore Leader, he owned a nice home, and he was, by most accounts, a respectable citizen.

But maybe Abby had heard some of the old stories and been turned off.

She didn’t look turned off, though. Especially now as she caressed his wrist with her thumb. A gesture that was undoubtedly meant to be slightly erotic, but that he, instead, found slightly annoying.

“Mick?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What would you like to do now?”

Her voice invited him to think of activities in the bedroom. No way could he confess that what he really wanted was to drop her at home, then go to the house off Bow Valley Trail and check on the kids. He’d already come perilously close to blowing his chances with Abby.

“It’s snowing outside. How about we take a walk, down to the river,” he suggested.

“Oh, that sounds so romantic!”

Reprieve.

Mick signed the check for their meal with relief. Evidently, he’d finally said the right thing. Maybe this was going to work after all.

IT WAS ELEVEN by the time Mick made it to the little bungalow. Lights were still on, and he could hear loud music. What concerned him more was the string of vehicles parked on the street—including one newly familiar four-by-four truck.

Kelly Shannon spotted him before he reached the door to pound on her window again. She drew her long body out of the car—God, but she was thin. Her face appeared white and gaunt in the overhead glare from a streetlight.

For a long moment they stared at each other. His anger, justifiable though it was, sort of fizzled as he took in the dark smudges under her eyes and the grim, unhappy set of her mouth.

“What the hell is going on in there?” He turned toward the house. Through the front window, he could see almost a dozen people milling about in the small living room. The pounding of the bass from an overworked sound system marred the peaceful beauty of the winter night.

“The neighbors complained,” Kelly said, “and the police were here about ten minutes ago. The party is finally breaking up.”

As she spoke, the volume of the music dropped. A group of six appeared at the side door.

“’Night!” Sharon, barely able to stand, hung on to the iron railing on the landing as she saw her visitors out.

“Hey, baby.”

“Keep in touch.”

“My house next time.”

A couple more guests spilled from the door. Few appeared as sloshed as Sharon did, which was fortunate, since they were getting into cars now. Mick watched, fighting rage.

How could she do this? It was as if she didn’t care about the baby growing inside her. Or the two still-almost-babies who lived in that house with her.

He sensed Kelly slipping back into the shadow of a tree trunk. That was good. If Sharon saw her, she’d throw a fit. In her condition, the prospect was scary.

As the last car drove away, Sharon began to withdraw into the house. Mick took a few steps forward, catching her attention. Sharon held a hand to her forehead and scrunched up her eyes.

“Mick? That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are the kids?”

“In bed. Sleeping.”

With all that racket? He doubted it. “Let me see them.”

Sharon shook her head. “Come back tomorrow. The party’s over.”

“I’m not interested in any bloody party. It’s the kids I care about. Did you feed them any dinner, Sharon? Are they wearing clean pajamas?”

“Of course.” Sharon spoke slowly, enunciating with the precision of someone who couldn’t be sure just what would come out of her mouth.

“Let me see.” He started for the door again, but she backed up, shaking her head.

“Tomorrow. My head hurts.”

Of course your head hurts, you moron. He felt like shaking her. How much had she drunk tonight? He loped up the sidewalk, but by the time he reached the landing, Sharon had shut the door against him. The sound of the dead bolt closing was conspicuous in the now-quiet night.

Mick cursed and slammed his hand on the railing.

From behind him, he heard a rustling. Before he had time to turn, Kelly was speaking. “We’ve got to do something, Mick.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.” Her tone was placating. “But you haven’t been over much lately.”

Of course he hadn’t. Because he was too damn busy courting the woman he wanted to take care of Amanda and Billy. The mother figure that Sharon appeared neither willing to be nor capable of being.

“I’m not blaming you, Mick.”

“I would say not. If anyone was to be blamed…”

“I know—I know.”

Kelly’s quick acceptance of her culpability sapped the satisfaction out of lashing at her.

“If only Sharon could get a grip on herself. I took her to see a doctor and to an AA meeting.” But she’d only gone because he’d made a fuss. He realized that she wouldn’t make any progress in controlling her drinking unless it was something she wanted to do.

“To the doctor?”

“Sharon’s pregnant.”

Kelly gave a small gasp.

“Exactly.” He dug his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. “Just the complication Sharon needs right now, especially with—Kelly?”

The tall brunette put her hand to her mouth. Then she rushed to a hedge across the street. At the unmistakable sound of retching, Mick realized that Sharon’s unborn baby added yet another layer to the former cop’s guilt. He supposed he ought to have been more tactful.

He waited a minute, shuffling snow around with his feet. In his pocket, he had a paper napkin left over from lunch at the Bagel Bites Café. When Kelly was standing again, he went to her and offered it.

“Thanks.” She turned away from him as she cleaned herself up.

“Don’t take it so hard,” he said, quelling an impulse to put a hand to her shoulder. “I’ve got a plan. I’m hoping to get married soon. Then I’m going to offer to take Sharon’s children for a while, to give her a chance to settle down.”

“Oh.” Kelly’s eyes were huge in her pale face. “Who are you marrying?”

“Well, I haven’t asked her yet. But I’m hoping it’ll be Abby Stevens.”

“The kindergarten teacher?”

“Yeah. We’ve been dating for a while.”

“Oh,” she said again.

Somehow they both started walking along the road. The snow had stopped, but enough had fallen to turn the narrow street into a sparkling wonderland. Their boots crunched in the fresh drifts, and clouds of ice crystals formed with each exhaled breath.

“I know Abby,” Kelly said at last. “She invites me to her class every fall to speak to the kids about Halloween safety.” After a pause, she added, “She’s cute.”

“Yeah.” He was beginning to think Abby was too cute, and that that was the problem. After their walk, he’d taken Abby home. At the door, he suspected, she had hoped for more than one short kiss good-night. But again, he’d felt no urge to carry things further.

“She’ll be great with the kids,” he said.

Kelly stopped walking, so he did, too. “You’re in love with her, right?”

He bristled. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

She took hold of his arm and forced him to face her. Those eyes of hers were so probing. And no wonder. She was a cop, after all.

“You’re just marrying her because of the kids.”

“Not real—” The denial jammed in his throat. That was the truth, so why not admit it? “Isn’t that what marriage is all about? Raising kids. What does it matter if they aren’t ours?”

“Of course it doesn’t matter, Mick. But marriage is about more than kids.”

“Not in my book. Too many of the stories I cover for the paper are about tragedies that happen because parents don’t put their children’s interests first.” Messy divorces, youngsters raised in poverty, family violence. God, he’d seen so many messed-up families. Not the least, his own brother’s.

“Does Abby know how you feel about marriage? About her? She’s always struck me as the romantic type.”

Mick freed the air trapped in his lungs. He didn’t like the direction of Kelly’s conversation. He had to marry Abby. If he didn’t, he’d lose precious weeks of courting time; he didn’t want to start from scratch with another woman.

“Why don’t you hire a nanny instead of getting married?”

He’d thought about that option a lot. It had much to recommend it, but most of the benefits were to him, not the kids. “After all Billy and Mandy have been through, a nanny just isn’t good enough.”

“I see.”

“Don’t give me that look. If Abby agrees to marry me, I intend to be a good husband.”

“I’m sure that you do.”

Abruptly, Mick started back toward his vehicle. Kelly stuck right beside him, her long stride easily matching his purposeful pace. At the door to his truck he paused to fish out his keys. The next thing he knew, Kelly had her hand over the lock.

“What are you doing?”

“Mick, I don’t think you should marry Abby.”

He swore for the second time that night. “And what about Billy and Amanda?” he asked. “I suppose you have a better idea how I can look after them?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said, her voice oddly calm.

“You can marry me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.” Mick concentrated on Kelly’s determined expression. She didn’t appear to be pulling his leg. Her suggestion that they marry was genuine.

A gust of wind flattened his hair and brought tears to his eyes. It was so cold out here, Kelly’s lips had gone blue.

“Let’s go to my place and talk,” he suggested.

Kelly nodded. She hadn’t spoken since telling him he should marry her. Perhaps she’d gone into shock. He opened his passenger door again and motioned her inside.

The drive to his house took less than five minutes—insufficient time for warm air to start blowing from the vehicle’s heating system or even for the electric seat warmers to have much effect. He figured Kelly was even more frozen than he was by the time he had her sitting near the stoked-up fireplace in his living room. He left her holding her hands to the heat, while he put on coffee.

Coming back into the room, Mick took fresh stock of the woman. Tall and lean, she’d always given him the impression of athletic strength. Her brown hair was thick and shoulder length—he realized he was used to seeing it up in the bun she always wore when she was in uniform.

Up until the past two months, most of their encounters had occurred when they were both at work. When he needed information about RCMP activities, he’d always preferred asking Kelly. She had a quick, logical mind and a reserved nature that he felt comfortable with. He appreciated her sense of humor, too, which was subtle and slightly self-deprecating. Truthfully, he’d enjoyed her company so much, he’d been tempted to ask her out.

But given his past history in this town, he’d thought it safer to continue to date women outside the sphere of Canmore.

“Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Are you getting warmer?”

“The feeling’s back in my fingers,” she said, still facing the fire. Her profile captivated him. He moved closer, to a chair just a few feet from where she was standing. From here, he could feel the heat from the fireplace, as well as continue to observe her.

“I understand that you must feel terrible about my brother.” And he did. His journalistic training was too ingrained for him not to see both sides of the story. Despite his anger and grief at Danny’s death, he knew that Kelly had only acted in accordance with RCMP procedure.

She’d shown up at the Thunder Bar M ranch in pursuit of her sister Cathleen and Dylan McLean. The intrepid couple, believing Danny had been involved in the murder of Dylan’s mother, Rose, were determined to speak with him.

Ironically, it was Kelly’s arrival on the scene that had panicked Danny—probably because of the stash of drugs he had hidden on the premises. Mick had read all the reports. He knew his brother had pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it right at Cathleen.

He also knew that, by all accounts, Kelly had tried to defuse Danny’s fear, speaking to him calmly and gently. But Danny had been too worked up. He’d cocked the trigger of his handgun, and that was it. Kelly had aimed, fired—

And Danny was dead.

Later, they’d discovered he’d played no part in Rose Strongman’s death. And while the quantity of drugs he’d been storing would have seen him doing serious jail time, his life had been a high price to pay.

Still, Mick couldn’t blame Kelly for his brother’s foolish mistakes.

“Don’t think it’s guilt that’s behind my suggestion,” Kelly said now.

“What else could it be?” Mick wondered if she knew how much she’d changed since the shooting. Become thinner, quieter, more serious.

“Well, that’s part of it,” she admitted. “But it’s way more complicated.”

“I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Mick, I genuinely care about those children. I would do anything to help them. Anything.” She sat on the ottoman by his chair, leaning over her knees, entreating.

Something in him wanted to give her whatever she asked for. And, face it, she was offering him a solution to his own dilemma. But this was too important to decide impetuously.

“How will you feel in a year, or two, or ten? Kelly, I’m not interested in a temporary fix here.”

“I understand that. I do.”

In the small, bookshelf-lined room her words echoed like a marriage vow.

“Mick, you have to understand. I can’t imagine what I’m going to do with my life if you say no. You know I’m suspended from police work. Once the attorney general’s investigation into Danny’s death is completed, I’ll still have to wait out our own internal inquiry and the provincial fatality inquiry.”

Mick was familiar with the process. Because of objectivity issues, he hadn’t been covering the story in the Leader, but his number-one reporter was doing a thorough job. “How long will it take?”

“At best six months, assuming the attorney general doesn’t lay criminal charges.” Kelly ran her hands back over her head, pulling her hair tight from her face. “The thing is, even after all this is over, I can’t imagine returning to police work.”

Her eyes flooded and she bowed her head. Mick didn’t know what to say. Kelly’s pride in being a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had always been evident. He could imagine his feelings if he had to abandon his journalism career.

“Maybe in time you’ll feel differently.”

She turned away from him. “You don’t know how often I’ve heard those words—in time. Never from someone who’s gone through what I have, who’s done what I did. I killed a man. How could I go back to a job that required me to carry a gun?”

He didn’t know. He also sensed this was hardly the time to suggest an administrative position of some kind. Kelly pleaded a strong case. But unwittingly she’d raised a major obstacle to her plan.

“Okay, Kelly. Say you leave the force forever when this is finally finished. How will Billy and Amanda feel about being raised by the woman who shot their father?”

Never mind his position. Marrying the police officer who’d killed his brother. God, he was crazy even to consider the idea.

“They’re so young, Mick. Would they even understand what happened?”

How long is forever? “Not really,” he admitted.

“Besides, we can’t afford to worry about those problems right now. I’m concerned their physical safety is at risk.”

And so was he. Sharon had probably passed out by now. He should’ve insisted on seeing the children, bundling them over to his house for the night. Friday he would. He’d take the afternoon off work, and tell Sharon she needed a break and he was looking after the kids for the weekend.

“Let me meet them, see how they react to being around me. Give me a chance, Mick.”

She wanted this so badly. And he couldn’t take care of the children on his own. Could it be that this was the solution?

“Let’s do it Friday,” he said, thinking of the phone call he’d have to make to Abby. You were right, he’d tell her. I haven’t been fair to you.

So was he being fair to Kelly? He didn’t know. But at least he was being honest—they both were—about the reasons for contemplating a union.

“Do you like pizza?” he asked.

“I love pizza. And Friday is perfect.”

“MICK MIZZONI is so gorgeous…”

The group of them were gathered in the study of the bed and breakfast. Dylan sat at the desk, recording deposits, while Cathleen, Poppy and Kelly ate popcorn around the glowing fireplace.

“He looks just like a brooding Lord Byron, wouldn’t you say, honey?” Cathleen slouched in a large leather chair, her booted feet propped on the low table in front of her.

Kelly leaned against the fireplace wall, regretting that she’d raised the subject.

“Lord who?” Dylan sounded irritable. Cathleen had forgotten to record some check stubs and he was having a devil of a time reconciling the account book with the bank statement.

“Lord Absolutely Delicious, that’s who.” Cathleen wasn’t concerned by her new husband’s foul mood. “Never mind him,” she said to Kelly. “I was in the same grade as Mick, so I should know. All us girls were crazy about the guy, but he never asked any one of us out. We wondered if…well, you know, if…” She shrugged and glanced at Poppy.

The elderly woman didn’t even blink. “If he was gay, you mean?”