Page 50 of You'll Find Out
“You don’t really leave me much of a choice, do you? I’ve set up a trust fund for her, but that’s not enough. Damn it, Mara, it’s just not enough!” His fist crashed into the screen. “I want her, damn it, and I intend to have her!”
“I told you that I would marry you,” Mara pleaded.
“When?” he demanded, and the lightning crackled in the air.
“After I know for certain that June is well.”
“There are no certainties in this life, Mara. I gave you two weeks, and they’re gone!”
“But, Shane—”
“There’s no more room for argument!” His eyes glinted in the night like tempered obsidian. “This is what’s going to happen—I’m going to fight you tooth and nail for custody of my child unless you marry me tomorrow. And if you think that you can handle a legal battle—fine, I’ll see you in court. But just be aware that I’ll spare no expense, and I’ll leave no stone unturned in order that I get at least partial custody ofmychild!”
“Shane, please . . . don’t do this to us. Please, don’t threaten me,” she pleaded, her frightened eyes beseeching him.
“It wasn’t my decision, Mara. It was yours!”
“I’ll tell June next week, I swear . . .” she began, half-sobbing, the tears glistening in her eyes. “. . . but please don’t take my baby away from me!” Mara’s face twisted in fear and agony—why did he demand so much and give so little? She loved him with a passion that wouldn’t, even after four long years, subside, and yet she felt as if he had never loved her. Why couldn’t he understand and wait, just a little longer?
Lightning cracked across the sky and the thunder pealed loudly enough to shake the timbers of the old Southern mansion. The wind had picked up, but above the clamor of the storm, Mara thought she heard the faint sound of a child screaming . . .
“Angie!” Mara gasped, realizing that the girl was probably terrified. She turned toward the kitchen, but Shane was ahead of her, running through the house and dashing up the stairs two at a time. The thunder roared again, and the little girl shrieked.
Shane reached Angie’s room before a minute had passed, and by the time that Mara had made it, breathlessly running to the bedroom, Shane held the sobbing, frightened child in his arms. He was whispering soft words to her and fondly stroking her hair with his hands. “It’s all right, precious,” he murmured against her small head. “Daddyis here now, and he’s never, never going to let you get scared again.”
Mara froze in the doorway, and Shane’s dark gaze defied her to deny the words of comfort and love that he, as Angie’s father, was giving to his child.
Chapter 10
Shane’s vigil didn’t end until early morning. He refused to leave, even long after the wrath of the storm had passed and Angie had fallen to sleep, cradled in his arms. It was a sight that, under a different set of circumstances, would have warmed Mara’s heart. As it was, Shane’s powerful presence as he dozed restlessly with his child in his arms reminded Mara of his threats. She found it impossible to believe that the man she loved, with his rumpled black hair and dark beard, would go so far as to take her child from her unless she married him. Never once had he asked her to live with him for love. No, it was only to give him back what he considered rightfully his.
Although Mara loved him deeply, and she knew that people were married for far less noble reasons, the thought that he was coercing her . . . with her child as bait, began to anger her. And so, as he sat in the leather recliner near the fireplace with the sleepy Angie on his lap, Mara found herself resenting the fact that he would do anything to have his way. It was several hours before she finally dozed.
When the first few silent rays of dawn crept over the high plateau and the sun cast fresh shadows on the wet lawn, Shane roused himself, and with a pleased expression on his face, carried Angie up to her room. Assured that the tired little girl would sleep until late in the morning, he stretched and went back downstairs. Mara was where he had left her, curled up under a plaid blanket on the couch in the den. He knew that she hadn’t slept much the night before, and he also knew that he was the cause of her sleeplessness. If he had thought that the reason for her restlessness was a simmering passion for him, he would have been pleased. But as it was, he knew that it was his threats that had kept her awake, and he briefly wondered if he had pushed her too far. Was he asking too much? As he watched her in the early morning light, sunbeams filtered through the paned windows and her tousled hair glistened with gilded highlights. The strain that had aged the contours of her face last night had lifted in the peaceful repose of slumber.
For the first time since he had read Peter Wilcox’s obituary, Shane Kennedy was unsure. Was he making a vast, irreparable mistake with not only Mara but also his daughter? Was Mara right when she charged him with being selfish to the point that he was interested in onlyhishappiness. For a moment, he wavered. And then the picture of Angie’s terrified face, starkly illuminated in a flash of lightning, burned in his memory. His lips curled in a grim smile. No, he was right, damn it, he was right!
Shane was gone when Mara finally stirred. She squinted against the bright sun, and it took her a minute to realize that she was in her clothes in the den. It must have been after three o’clock when she had finally dozed off. She stretched and counted each of the chimes from the grandfather’s clock . . . five, six, seven, eight. She got up with a start—June would be at the house within fifteen minutes!
Thoughts of the storm, Angie’s terror, Shane’s threats, and unfulfilled passion whirled in Mara’s head as she straightened the den and began to put on a pot of coffee. Gravel crunched in the driveway, and Mara knew that she had to face her mother-in-law. The thought that Shane had issued her an ultimatum still bothered her, but, Mara promised herself, she owed it to June to tell her the truth. Today was the day.
However, her resolve shook a little as she saw the stoop of June’s shoulders and the tight whiteness of June’s lips.
“Good morning,” she called with feigned cheerfulness to the older woman.
“Same to you,” June replied. “Aren’t you going to work today?” June’s pale blue eyes traveled up Mara’s body, noting the rumpled jeans and wrinkled blouse.
“Yes . . . it’s . . . just that Angie didn’t sleep well last night, and well, we sort of camped out in the den.”
Relief relaxed June’s face. “I know what you mean; that storm kept me awake for hours!”
“How . . . how are you feeling this morning?”
The question made June straighten her shoulders sharply and stare, unblinking into Mara’s concerned gaze. “I told you, I’m a little tired, but other than that I’m feeling just fine.” The tone of June’s voice indicated that the subject was closed. Mara wasn’t convinced that lack of sleep caused June’s pale complexion, nor curved her thin lips into a tight, uncomfortable frown. To Mara, it was obvious that June was in pain.
After handing June a cup of coffee, Mara went upstairs and checked on Angie, who was still sleeping soundly. Then, after a quick shower, she changed into a soft, lilac print dress, and went back downstairs to the kitchen, intent on telling June the truth. But, apparently Peter’s mother hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps, and when Mara reentered the kitchen, she found June sitting at the table, swallowing several brightly colored pills from a variety of vials.
June’s features mirrored her guilt as she looked up and saw Mara standing in the doorway. Quickly, she recovered herself and, with an effort at dignity, recapped the bottles and put them back into her purse.
