Montana Dreaming: Their Unexpected Family / Cabin Fever / Million-Dollar Makeover

When he entered the apartment, he wore a blue flannel shirt under a brown leather jacket, which he peeled off and hung on the coat tree by the door. “I never could get used to this unpredictable Montana weather. It’s supposed to be spring. But I swear we’re in for another storm.”

“Did you get what you needed at the inn?”

“Yeah.” He kicked off his shoes, then checked the thermostat.

“You know,” she began. “Something is puzzling me.”

“What’s that?”

“You told me that after that falling-out you’d made peace with your family.”

“We talk.” He strode toward the window and peered outside.

“Then why, if your folks own the Big Sky Motel, are you patronizing the Wander-On Inn?”

He turned and crossed his arms. “Because the inn is more convenient. It’s in the middle of town.”

That might be true. But she knew there was more to it than that. “Have you seen your parents yet?”

His movements slowed; his expression tensed. “No. I haven’t had time.”

But why had he been able to find time to come into The Hitching Post each evening and chill out at the bar first?

“Have you called them?” she asked.

He shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “I talked to my mother a week or so ago.”

“Maybe you ought to drop by the motel for a visit.”

“They’re pretty busy.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of soda.

“Do you know what I think? That the falling-out isn’t over at all.”

“So what if it’s not?” He pulled the tab and took a long, steady swig before setting the can on the countertop. “Not every family is close, Juliet. And some of us prefer it that way.”

“How about your sister? Do you talk to her?”

He stiffened, then touched the hole on the top on the aluminum can, his index finger circling the sharp edge. “My sister is dead.”

“I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

He caught her gaze, but didn’t speak. His eyes swept down to her lap, where her hands rested around the bulge of her tummy.

He finally said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

The muscles in his cheek twitched, and his jaw tensed, as though he was holding back.

“Were the two of you close?”

He shrugged again, but the tension didn’t leave his face. “I guess so.”

Juliet had told him about Manny’s death. Her dad’s, too. So it seemed only fair to ask. “Was it an accident?”

The question hung in the air, making it hard for Mark to breathe. “Yeah. It was an accident.”

And it had been. Sort of. Mark hadn’t meant to screw up. But he wasn’t going to go there, wasn’t going to discuss it with Juliet.

“That’s too bad,” she said.

Yeah. It was.

She probably figured it was a car accident or something like that. But Mark wouldn’t correct her. Hell, even if he felt like opening up, revealing his guilt and pain, an expectant mother sure as hell didn’t need to hear how his sister and her unborn baby died during labor.

“If you’re the only child your parents have left, I imagine they would welcome a reconciliation.”

How could she be so damn optimistic all the time? So naive?

“Things are more complicated than that,” he explained. “More complex. And I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Families are a blessing, Mark.”

Oh, for cripes sake. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Quit nagging at him?

He didn’t need a ration of guilt to upset his lunch. To ruin a quiet afternoon.

“Why don’t you approach them first? Maybe ask them out to dinner?”

Mark bristled. He’d kept his guilty secret bottled up inside for so long that he wasn’t going to relive it, not even in dialogue.

“You know what?” he asked her. “I’ve got cabin fever. Maybe I ought to take a walk before it starts snowing.” As he made his way to the door, she followed, grabbing him by the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“I’m sorry, Mark. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I need some fresh air.”

As he reached the doorknob, she sucked in a breath. His feet slowed, but he kept a forward motion.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Wait.”

He turned to acknowledge her voice—not her command—but she was looking down, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on a dribble of water running down her legs.

A gush splattered on the floor, and she looked up at him, eyes wide and frightened. “My water broke.”

Chapter Six

Mark wasn’t exactly sure what “my water broke” meant, especially when a woman had a good month or so to go. But it couldn’t be good.