Return to Oak Valley (48 page)

Her arms around his neck, she kissed his chin. “Good thinking.” She hesitated, then added, “Josh took the money you gave him for the right-of-way and set up a scholarship fund, too.”

“Let me guess,” Sloan said dryly. “It's in his name.”

Shelly nodded. “Does that upset you?”

Sloan shook his head. “Like I told you—I've got you, and I'm feeling magnanimous. I won. And not meaning to be brutal—he's dead.” He kissed her again, more urgently. “Let the past lie. From now on, our future is about us, not them.”

Arms around each other's waists, they wandered out to the barn, where they found Nick, Acey, and Roman in the lab. Nick was still drooling over the semen tank, and Acey wasn't much better. Roman merely looked amused.

At their entrance, Nick left off his love affair with the semen tank, and, grinning at Sloan, said, “I understand that congratulations are in order.”

“That they are,” Sloan replied, shaking Nick's hand. “She gave me a chase, but I won.”

Shelly snorted and rolled her eyes.

Acey walked up and stuck out his callused hand. “I surely am glad that you're marrying her. I've been telling her for weeks that she needed a good man.” He winked. “It's nice when they take your advice.”

Shelly shook her head. “That doesn't even deserve a comment.”

Acey grinned. “Nope. 'Cause you know I'm right.” He glanced at Sloan. “So when's the wedding. She's kinda close-mouthed about the date.”

“Sometime in the next couple weeks,” Sloan said easily. “We have to get things settled here, then we're flying to Reno to do the deed—just the two of us.”

Acey looked askance. “That don't seem right. Think you should revise that plan and get married in the valley. Doesn't have to be a big affair, but there are a few of us that would like to be part of the celebration.”

“And that,” Sloan said dryly, glancing down at his bride-to-be, “is exactly why I wanted to get married before anyone even had a whiff of what was in the wind.”

The truth of Sloan's statement became more apparent as the day passed. The phone began ringing almost constantly. First M.J. demanding to know if it was true that she was going to marry Sloan. Then Cleo called with the same question, and not five minutes later, Bobba. Turned out Reba had been into Heather-Mary-Marie's that afternoon and in front of a half dozen customers had coolly announced that she was just thrilled to pieces that Sloan and Shelly had overcome their differences and were planning on getting married. The news spread like wildfire—Jeb and Danny even drove out to the house to find out for themselves, both of them breaking into wide grins when they heard that this time the gossip was true: Sloan and Shelly were getting married. When Sloan returned to his cabin that evening he found his answering machine was full of calls from half the valley wanting to know if there was any truth to the rumor that he was actually going to marry Shelly Granger.

He returned Roxanne's call first. His sister was elated. “Oh, Sloan, I am so happy for you. I don't know what went wrong before, but anyone can see that the pair of you belong together.” She hesitated. “Er, have you told Dad yet?”

Sloan made a face at the phone. “No.”

“Um, how do you think he'll take it?”

“Probably badly, knowing how he feels about anyone named Granger, but that's his problem not mine. I'm marrying Shelly, and the fact that she's a Granger doesn't even come into it. Once we're married, she won't be a Granger, she'll be a Ballinger.”

“You know,” Roxanne said confidingly, “I hate to break it to you, but these days sometimes women keep their own name. Have you thought of that? Maybe she'll call herself Shelly Granger-Ballinger.”

Sloan laughed. “Doesn't matter. All that matters is that I love her, and she loves me. And Pandora likes her…sort of.”

Roxanne giggled. “And that, of course, puts the seal of approval on the whole deal. So when's the wedding?”

“I haven't a clue.” He explained their original plan, but it was becoming pretty obvious that a quick, private wedding in Reno was fast disappearing. “All I know right now is that it'll be soon.”

Shelly came swiftly to the same conclusion. The whole affair was spinning out of control and as the news spread, she realized that the sooner she and Sloan were married, the better off they would be. They put their heads together and came up with a plan that suited the pair of them. It wouldn't be the Reno wedding, but neither would it be a huge affair. They were determined to keep it as small and intimate as they could—without making enemies for life.

On Wednesday, Sloan, Shelly, Nick, and Roman drove down to Santa Rosa. The taking of the DNA samples was a simple procedure and by lunchtime they were comfortably seated in the Equus Restaurant at the north end of Santa Rosa. Ross, Sloan's younger brother, met them there.

What Ross thought of his brother's engagement to a Granger, he kept to himself, but then Ross tended to keep a lot of things to himself. He was nearly ten years younger than Sloan was and, except for his height, black hair, and tawny eyes, bore little resemblance to his older brother. He was lean, a rapier to Sloan's broadsword. He was more handsome than Sloan, his features finely chiseled, his hard mouth and jaw at variance with his extravagant lashes, but Shelly had eyes for no one but Sloan.

Seated in a quiet alcove, once introductions were made—he already knew Nick—and they had ordered, Ross leaned back in his seat, and, smiling at Shelly, said, “I hope you know what you're taking on marrying this big lug. He can be a tyrant. Believe me, I know. He was my boss at Ballinger Development and, upon occasion, he made my life hell. Are you sure you want to marry him?”

“Don't pay any attention to him,” Sloan said, his fingers entwined with Shelly's. “He's just jealous I saw you first.”

Ross grinned. Raising his glass of champagne, he glanced at Roman and Nick. “A toast? Shall we wish them many years of happiness? Or misery?”

Smiling, Roman murmured, “Oh, happiness, definitely happiness.”

It was a happy, silly lunch, and well after 3:00 P.M. when the quartet headed back to Oak Valley, leaving Ross behind. Since Nick traveled on his stomach, they stopped in Willits and picked up a Papa Murphy's pizza to bake once they reached home.

The conversation at dinner that night was mostly about DNA and what it could prove and couldn't prove. Nick didn't offer much in the way of conversation, but Shelly watched his face, the way he listened intently to every word Sloan or Roman uttered. This meant so much to him. So very much. She was angry at Maria for not telling the truth; furious with Josh for leaving Nick dangling, and determined to do what she could to set it right—although, she admitted, it would never be totally right.

The idea she'd been turning over and over in her mind took full shape, and, pushing aside her empty plate, she said, “Nick gave me an idea the other day.” When Nick looked at her, she went on, “You said something about being able to get DNA from a bull dead thirty years….” She took a deep breath. “We don't have access to Josh's DNA, and while mine and Roman's DNA will prove a relationship between us, there is another source.”

Nick's eyes were fixed painfully on her. “What do you mean? I know you've got other relatives scattered here and there, but their DNA wouldn't prove anything more than Roman's.”

Shelly nodded and said very carefully, “If I had my father's body exhumed and had a sample taken—provided he hadn't been embalmed…while it still wouldn't prove that Josh was your father, if there was a match, it would be close enough to put to rest any lingering questions.” Hastily, she added, “Not that I have any doubts.”

Nick sucked in his breath, his face white. “You'd do that?”

She smiled gently at him, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Yes, for you, I would.”

With Jeb's help, they were able to discover that Shelly's father had not been embalmed. As Jeb had explained, “I didn't really need to check—your dad had always been pretty vocal and downright vehement about the fact that he didn't want any damned undertaker fooling around with his body. I remember him saying time and again that if he had his way, he'd be buried in a wooden box the same day he died. He hated funerals and all the attendant fuss.”

Because it was Shelly, the only surviving member of the family, requesting the exhumation, again with Jeb's help with the sheriff's office, permission to dig up the body was given. Within forty-eight hours, the sample had been taken and Shelly, with Sloan on one side of her and Nick on the other, watched as her father was reburied. She had thought she wouldn't feel anything—she had been a child when he had died, and she had few memories of him—but grief welled up inside of her as the coffin was lowered once more into the grave. Fighting back tears, she placed the bouquet of flowers she had brought with her on his tombstone. It seemed fitting and right.

Maria had been furious when she had learned what was planned. “This is wrong,” she told Shelly. “It is not necessary.”

“Does that mean that you're going to tell Nick that Josh is his father?” Shelly asked grimly.

Maria's lips trembled, and she bent her head and looked away. “I promised. I promised Josh that I would never say. He begged me to swear that I would never tell. You wish me to dishonor myself and break my word to your brother.”

“But we're going to prove it anyway,” Shelly said, her voice full of exasperation. “What difference does it make now? Josh is dead. It doesn't matter to him anymore. Is a promise you made to a dead man more important than your son's peace of mind?”

Tears in her eyes, Maria looked at Shelly. “You think this is easy for me? You think I like seeing how much it pains Nick? You think I have enjoyed all these years seeing the yearning, the hope in his face? And each time he came to me for answers, I would not give them to him—you think I enjoyed hurting him?” Pleading, she said, “I would put the same argument to you—his father is dead, so what difference does it make? You have accepted him, you are making him part of your family. Isn't that enough?” Her voice hard, Shelly said, “No. It isn't.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
n the end Shelly and Sloan's wedding was far larger than either would have wanted. It also didn't take place quite as swiftly as either one of them would have liked. But it turned out perfectly.

Interest in the valley had been high, and, giving in to pressure from Cleo, Acey, M.J., Roxanne, and Jeb to name just a few, they finally decided upon holding the wedding at the community center near the rodeo grounds. And half the valley was invited for the evening wedding. It wasn't a formal affair; the bride wore a new pair of Sassoon jeans and, as a sop to convention, a white silk blouse. The groom was in freshly pressed jeans and a black and white striped shirt, a red silk tie at his neck. Ross was best man and was the only one at the wedding in a suit. As he told Sloan later on that evening, “Dammit, you said informal; I thought you meant no tux.”

As for the reception, it was held in the same place, and while a local band blared out country and western dance tunes, the guests ate good old-fashioned barbecued steak and beans outside in the pleasant June air. Everyone declared that it had been a great wedding and reception. The best.

Sloan and Shelly flew to New Orleans for their honeymoon. They were gone nearly three weeks, and though Sloan had to endure meeting many of the Grangers in New Orleans, he enjoyed prowling the streets of the French Quarter with his bride, seeing the place through her eyes and visiting her familiar haunts. Best of all, he was able to spend hours and hours in bed making love to Shelly. He was, as he told her the morning they flew back to San Francisco, a satisfied man, adding, with a wicked leer, for the moment.

Settling into marriage was easier than either one of them had envisioned. Quite simply they enjoyed each other—in bed and out. Once her things were moved into Sloan's cabin, she never gave Josh's house a second thought. In her mind it was already Nick's. She only suffered a pang as she packed up the items in the studio that Josh had had constructed with her in mind.

Sloan helped her and, seeing her face, stopped what he was doing and walked over and took her in his arms. “Don't, honey. Don't dwell on it.”

She sent him a watery smile. “It's silly, isn't it? It's only a room, but knowing that Josh…” Her gaze blurred with tears. She took a deep breath. “I'll get over it.” Flashing him a teasing glance, she said, “After all, you've promised to have another studio built for me next to the cabin. Bigger. More expensive.” She kissed him. “Much more expensive.”

Sloan laughed and patted her rear. “Gee, keep this up, and I'll begin to think that you married me for my money and not my body.”

She dropped her hand and ran a light caress over his groin. His body responded immediately, the flesh hardening under her hand, and she grinned. “No contest, fella. I'll take your body any day.”

His eyes darkened. “Prove it,” he said huskily. And she did.

Nick's move into Josh's house the following week went smoothly. Since the house was furnished, Nick brought only his personal belongings with him. He told Shelly with a wry grin, “My furniture can only be classified early yard sale. Might as well leave it up there—we can use the place as a line cabin or something like that.”

Shelly concurred. Watching him prowl around the spacious living room, she asked, “Are you going to be all right here? It's not a huge house, but it's a lot more space than one person needs.”

He smiled. “I'll be fine. Just think of the wild parties I can throw.” A lewd expression on his face, he added, “The women I can seduce.”

“I hope,” said Roman as he walked into the room, “that you'll give me forewarning so that I don't walk into anything that might shock me. I have such tender sensibilities, you know.”

Roman had seemed disinclined to return to New Orleans, and he and Nick seemed to have worked out a living arrangement that suited them both. They shared the house, and Roman shared the chores both in the house and the barn. Shelly was pleased—she hadn't been quite certain how to handle the situation. It hadn't seemed fair to saddle Nick with Roman, yet she had been equally uncomfortable with the idea of telling Roman that he'd have to move out. And there was no question of Roman moving in with her and Sloan. Nope. Not a chance.