Always Dakota by Debbie Macomber
“Good idea,” Matt called after her.
She wasn’t gone long and when she returned they chatted again, this time on a variety of subjects—Buffalo Valley’s past and present, the feasibility of raising bison, like Jeb McKenna did, politics, religion and western movies. The beer loosened her inhibitions, and soon they were sharing a few jokes. It felt good to laugh, and to know he considered her a friend. The only other person she felt as comfortable around was Maddy McKenna. But this was different. Better.
“Are you planning to kiss me again?” The beer had given her courage to ask what had been on her mind for weeks.
“Do you want me to?”
“Oh, yes.” She nodded eagerly. “In the worst way.”
He cast his gaze down at his beer. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
As far as she was concerned, it was a helluva great idea. “Okay, okay, maybe we should eat first, then check out how we feel afterward.”
It didn’t help her ego any to see the blatant relief on his face. His attitude was playing havoc with her theory that he’d enjoyed their kisses.
Dinner was superb. Sadie might not have approved of Margaret’s inviting Matt for Thanksgiving dinner, but that hadn’t stopped her from preparing one of the finest meals in recent memory.
“More wine?” Margaret asked.
“I’ll pour,” Matt said, reaching for the bottle of chilled chardonnay before she could.
After two beers and two glasses of wine, Margaret’s reserve slipped even further. Propping her elbows on the table, she leaned toward Matt. “I want to talk about us kissing again, all right?”
“Margaret…”
“Please. You have to understand that something like this doesn’t happen to me every day. I have questions.”
He shifted, clearly uncomfortable.
“What did you think?” she blurted.
“Think?”
“You know. How was it?”
He held his wineglass by the stem and seemed to carefully consider his response. “It was…nice.”
She couldn’t hold back a smile. “It was fabulous for me, too,” she said, trying to sound mature, striving for sophistication. At the moment she was too pleased to care whether she succeeded or not. Hot damn, but he was a looker.
A silence followed, and she guessed he didn’t know what to say next. From her father, Margaret had learned to respect silence. It didn’t always need to be filled, particularly not with chitchat or superficial comments. She let several minutes pass, watching him, enjoying his nearness.
“Do you know the first time I saw you?” she finally asked.
Matt shook his head.
“It wasn’t too long after you moved here. I was rounding up strays and I came upon you and one of our men. You were knee-deep in mud, freeing a calf and you were arguing with this hand Dad had recently hired.”
His face went tight. “I remember.”
“Neither of you realized I was watching. As I recall, he accused you of attempting to steal that calf.”
“We threw a couple of punches,” Matt said, frowning. “You were watching?”
“I was.” She picked up her wineglass. “You two really got into it.”
“We had a history.”
She’d suspected as much, and would have wagered money that the history they shared was a woman.
“You beat him in a fair fight.”
He nodded, but didn’t look especially pleased with himself. He should’ve been, she thought, seeing that he’d come out on the winning side. The other man had hit the dirt after two solid punches. As if the confrontation was irrelevant, Matt had returned to the calf and finished freeing him. His actions told her more about Matt Eilers than all the gossip she’d heard before and since.
“That hand wasn’t much of a cattleman,” Margaret muttered. “Dad fired him soon after.”
“Last I heard, he was working for a fuel distributor in Texas. I think he always liked trucks better than cattle. Not everyone’s cut out for ranch life.”
That was true enough, and perhaps Margaret should have left it there. She probably would have if not for the drinks she’d had. “I fell in love with you that day,” she confessed, “and more so every time I saw you. You might think it’s ’cause you’re handsome as sin, and that’s got something to do with it, but there’s more. You’re a good person, Matt Eilers. You don’t like people to know that—I haven’t figured out why. Deep down you’re honorable. You don’t cheat and I’ve never heard you say a bad word about anyone—not even when they deserve it.”
If Matt had seemed uncomfortable earlier, it didn’t compare to the way he responded now. He half rose from his chair, his eyes filled with dread.
“Women aren’t supposed to tell a man that, are they?” Margaret said quickly.
“Ah…”
“It’s all right,” she assured him, regretting that she’d embarrassed him, but not that he knew the truth about how she felt.
“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know what I’m really like, what I’ve done….”
“I know enough.” Matt was no saint, especially when it came to women; she’d seen clear evidence of that. But, as she’d said, he had a good heart. She’d never told anyone what she’d seen that day. Not only had he freed the calf and returned it to its mother, but he’d given the man he’d beaten a hand up, too.
Matt stood and took his wineglass with him.
“I was thinking,” she began, then fortified her courage with another sip of wine, “that I’d like to marry you, Matt Eilers.”
Matt downed the rest of his wine in one giant gulp. He looked stricken, confused and utterly baffled. Margaret had never intended to propose marriage, but it’d happened and now that it had, she wasn’t sorry. If anything, she felt released from a burden.
“I think it’s time I left,” Matt announced.
“All right,” she whispered, and followed him to the kitchen door. Already he had his hat in his hand.
“Dinner was very nice.”
Certain she’d embarrassed them both enough, she didn’t say or do anything to delay his departure. It’d been a risk; she’d taken her best shot. In all likelihood, she wouldn’t see or talk to him again for a long time. That part saddened her.
“Goodbye, Matt.”
Without saying anything, he opened the door. The wind moaned and whistled and in its high-pitched rush, she heard it call her a fool. Matt bowed his head against the force of it and hurried toward his truck, parked on the far side of the yard.
Margaret stood at the window and watched as his headlights dimly illuminated the driveway.
Discouraged, she walked back into the dining room and cleared the table. Like her daddy, she was a risk taker, but usually a cautious one. Bernard had always been philosophical about the chances he took. She’d come by his believe-in-miracles-but-don’t-bet-on-them attitude naturally. Only this was one miracle she’d really wanted.
An hour later, after she’d cleaned the kitchen and soaked out her disappointment in a hot bath, she heard someone pounding on the kitchen door.
When she went to investigate, she saw it was Matt Eilers. Dressed in her thick flannel robe, she unbolted the lock and hurriedly let him in. His face was red with cold, his jaw tight.
“All right,” he said abruptly.
Not understanding, she stared at him.
He grasped her by the shoulders and brought her close. His kiss was as wild as his eyes and revealed none of the finesse she’d experienced in their earlier kisses.
“You want me for your husband?” he demanded roughly. “Fine, I’ll marry you, but you don’t have a clue what you’re getting yourself into. Not a clue.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she told him, her pulse going crazy. His dark eyes burned into hers. Reaching for his collar with both hands, she jerked his mouth back to hers and kissed him with the same urgency.
She’d waited her entire life for this man and wasn’t about to be
Merrily had never thought of herself as an especially perceptive woman, but when it involved Axel she was almost psychic. The Monday following Thanksgiving, she found Pastor Dawson and Bob deep in conversation. They sat at a table on the far side of the restaurant, hunched together, talking quietly.
He knew.
This churchman had figured out that she’d stolen Axel. He knew she and Bob were hiding the boy from his birth parents and from the authorities. What he didn’t know was all the whys and wherefores. She doubted the circumstances made any difference to nosy do-gooders like Pastor Dawson. If he’d guessed the truth, he was sure to consider it his God-given duty to call the state police and have her arrested.
That meant she and Bob had no choice. None. They had to protect their son and Merrily was prepared to do so at any price.
Thankfully, Axel was down for his nap when Pastor Dawson finally left. Merrily could barely wait for the other man to walk out the door before she confronted Bob. Her husband still sat at the table, his hands in his hair, staring blankly at the wall.
“He knows?” She whispered the question.
Bob nodded.
“How?”
“Does it matter?”
Weak and shaky, Merrily pulled out a chair and literally fell into it. Having Axel taken away was her greatest fear. He was her son. He might not have been born from her body, but he was as much a part of her as if he had.
Bob rubbed his hands down his face, glanced at her and then looked away. Something was wrong, she could see it in his eyes.
“What?” she pleaded.
Her husband shook his head.
“Tell me!” she demanded.
Bob continued to stare at the wall. “Pastor Dawson didn’t know for sure…. He asked a few questions….”
“Yes?” she prodded.
“I told him about Axel.”
It took a moment for the implication of what he’d said to sink in. “You told him!” The anger inside her was explosive. “Why would you do such a thing?” Bob knew how dangerous that was. He’d purposely put their son at risk. She wanted to lash out at him, slug him, cause him the same kind of pain he’d caused her.
“He’d already guessed.”
“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”
Bob’s eyes were empty, his complexion ashen, as if he were about to be violently ill. “He knew, Merrily, he already knew. He just didn’t have proof. He asked if there was anything he could do to help. He saw the flyer, recognized Axel’s name. He didn’t threaten to turn us in….”
She started to tremble, and struggled to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “What kind of questions did he ask?”
“Questions that told me he’s figured out what we’ve done. He knew you weren’t Axel’s biological mother…that I wasn’t his father.”
“But how?”
“Because of the flyer. And probably because we’ve made such an effort to keep Axel out of sight lately.”
“That’s crazy!” None of this added up to Merrily. Besides Axel had suffered with chicken pox. It was only natural that they not expose anyone else to the illness.
“He asked about Axel’s family and when I didn’t answer—”
“You could have explained that we didn’t know each other—that you weren’t in my life at the time.”
“But you were, and he knew that, too.”
This minister had become a threat to everything Merrily held dear. “You should have lied!” she shouted.
“Aren’t we living a big enough lie already?” Bob shouted back. “I told him the truth because it’s the only way we’re ever going to be able to live a normal life. Look at us! Axel isn’t even three and we’re already afraid of what’ll happen if anyone recognizes him. Afraid he might be taken away from us. Afraid someone might turn us in. Constantly looking over our shoulders. That’s no kind of life, Merrily. Not for Axel and not for you and me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean it.” All at once he was on his feet and pacing. His boots made hard, heavy sounds against the floor.
“We’re his parents!” she cried.
“Yes, but burying our heads in the sand is wrong. Wrong for us and wrong for Axel. I love him as much as you do,” Bob said. “I’d never purposely do anything to hurt him, but our fear is going to smother him. I can see it happening.”
Merrily wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. “How can you say you love Axel after what you did?” came her high-pitched cry. She looked at Bob, seeing him with fresh eyes. She’d trusted him with everything, her heart, her son, her very life. He’d betrayed that trust. The immensity of it burned like hot coals inside her.
“I did it because I love Axel and I love you.”
Using both hands, she brushed the hair out of her face. Then, taking in a deep breath, she forced the panic from her heart. “Okay, Pastor Dawson knows. Exactly what’s he going to do about it?”
Bob continued pacing, but his steps grew slower.
“Bob?” she asked, when it was clear he hadn’t heard her. “He’s not going to keep our secret, is he?” That would be too much to hope for.
“He didn’t say he was going to do anything. He offered to help.”
“By turning us in to the authorities, no doubt.” It was what she expected, what she knew to expect.
“He said if we wanted, he’d be willing to contact the authorities on our behalf.”
“Dear God.” It felt as though the world had been jerked upside down.
“He wants us to take a week and think it over.”
“A week?” That meant they had a full seven days to run. In that length of time, they could disappear somewhere in Canada. Bob was good at saving money, better than she was. They could take the cash from their bank account and run.
“Pastor Dawson assured me he wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” Bob explained.
“Thank God,” Merrily whispered. “That gives us time.” Already her mind was racing with where they could go and the story they could make up. They’d need a lie that was convincing; they’d have to create a believable background. It would mean a name change, too, for all three of them.
Bob’s eyes met hers. She saw his pain, right along with the unasked questions. “What do you mean?”
“We have seven days, don’t you see? That’s long enough to find a place to hide out, to—”
“Merrily, we can’t do that. What kind of life would that be? For any of us? Our lives are here in Buffalo Valley.”
“The hell we can’t run. Are you nuts? That’s exactly what we’re going to do! It’s our only option.” Thanks to him. Thanks to what he’d done.
“Merrily—”
“Do you seriously believe I’m going to wait around for the cops? The social workers? You know me better than that. There’s no way in hell I’m going to hand over our son to some stranger. Axel needs me. He needs us both.”
Bob paled even more. “We’re going to fight for him, Merrily, with everything we have. He’s our son, and we’re going to make a stand right here, surrounded by our friends.”
For the first time, the pain gripping her heart lessened, but she still resisted. “It’s our only chance. We can make a new life in Canada—or anywhere you want. Running’s our only chance.”
“Don’t you understand that it’s only a matter of time before we’re found? It’s inevitable.”
“We can hide—”
“Until the next time. Until someone else figures out that Axel isn’t ours.”
She slapped at his hand as he reached out to console her. “You broke a trust! You betrayed Axel and me.”
“Are you saying I don’t love you?” Pain flashed from his eyes. “After everything I’ve done, after the months we’ve lived together as husband and wife? Nothing means more to me than you and Axel.”
Merrily was sobbing openly now. ??
Bob embraced her and she buried her face in his shirt.
“I don’t want to lose my baby,” she wailed.
“I don’t, either.”
“They’ll take him.”
“Over my dead body. I’m not going to let it happen,” Bob returned adamantly.
Heaving in a shaky breath, she raised her eyes to meet her husband’s. In him she saw resolve and determination. He wasn’t just going to fight to keep Axel; he was determined to win.
Six
When Margaret went after something, she did so in what could only be called a headlong manner, Matt reflected as he arrived at the Triple C the day of their wedding. She sure didn’t let any moss grow under her feet. No sooner had he accepted her proposal than she had them driving into Grand Forks to apply for the marriage license. Shifting schedules, the earliest possible day for the wedding was December seventh. He tried to forget that this was the same day the worst military defeat in U.S. history had occurred.
It didn’t help that on the morning of their wedding day, the weather dipped to record cold temperatures. The Grand Forks newscaster stated that it could be the coldest day of the year. One of her uncles, who lived in South Dakota, had planned to attend the ceremony, but he’d phoned that morning to cancel because of the weather. Her other two uncles sent their love and best wishes; since they’d recently made the long trip for Bernard’s funeral, they weren’t able to come for another visit so soon.
Margaret, never shy, met him at the door, and quickly ushered him out of the piercing wind and into the warm house.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” she asked, looking worried. The wind wasn’t nearly as penetrating as her eyes. She seemed to gaze straight through him.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” The truth was, he had changed his mind. Four or five times in the past few hours, in fact, but each time he’d managed to set aside his guilt and his doubts. He was marrying her for all the wrong reasons—and all the right ones. No woman had believed in him the way Margaret did. None had looked past the polished exterior and seen his heart. And dammit, there were all those beautiful cattle. And the land. It wasn’t like he could ignore what she had to offer.