Joe's Wife (25 page)

"Is Eve your child?" she asked.

Elation and doubt clapped around inside his head. Pride and tenderness ebbed and swelled and fought for prominence. Hope quelled them all and calmed his racing heart like a sweet promise.

Elusive thoughts he'd never allowed before came into complete clarity. He'd only been kidding himself about his relationship with Meg. She'd married him for one reason and one reason only. Everyone knew it—no one better than Tye. No matter what he had done and no matter what he could or would do—working, planning, praying—it hadn't been enough. It would never be enough. She was still Joe's wife. She would never really be his.

But Eve, on the other hand…

"I don't know if she's mine," he said at last, his voice steadier than he'd expected. "But I hope like hell she is. I already love her like she's mine. I want her to be."

"Why?" she asked, raising trembling fingers to her mouth.

The reasons ballooned inside of him, filled his head, his will, his purpose. A lifetime of whys rose up and blinded him to her pain. "Why?" he replied tersely. "I'll tell you why. Because
that
is Joe's horse," he said, stabbing a finger toward the corral. "And that's Joe's barn. This is Joe's dirt we're standing on."

Puzzlement silenced her.

Tye snatched her by the forearm and pulled her across the expanse of the dooryard.
"This,"
he said when they reached the front stairs, "is Joe's house."

He led her up the new porch steps, where Major greeted them with a wagging tail. "That's Joe's dog," he said on the way past, the screen door squawking in their wake. He tugged her past the sleeping Eve into the bedroom and gestured with a bitter sweep of his arm.
"That
is Joe's bed."

He released her finally, and she stumbled back a step, alarm straining her lovely face.

Caught up in his explanation now, Tye flung back the trunk lid. "Let's not forget Joe's personal things."

Meg's eyes were now wide and glistening.

"His ring is probably in there somewhere, along with God knows what else." He strode toward her and she stared up into his face, her heart leaping.

"And
you,"
he said, pointing with one finger that deliberately didn't touch her chest, "are Joe's wife."

Meg stared from the trunk to Tye's angry face and posture. Stunned, she could think of nothing to say.

"But there's one thing I'm certain could never have been Joe's," he said, his voice changing timbre. He guided her gently to the doorway and pointed at the sleeping child. "That beautiful kid isn't Joe's daughter."

Meg blinked, trying to comprehend, preparing herself for what she didn't want to hear or know.

"I want her to be
mine,
Meg. I want that with all my heart. Just one pure thing in this whole stinkin' world that's mine."

She nodded, tears stinging her eyelids, raw compassion stifling her breathing. That which she'd feared, he desired. That which she envied, he gloried in.

"She sees me as someone I want with all my heart to be," he said hoarsely. "She never says, 'Joe did it this way,' or 'Joe wouldn't have done that.' She never knew Joe—she could care less about who the hell Joe Telford was because it doesn't affect her. For her, there's only me. And I'm good enough for her."

Heart pounding, stomach turning, Meg bit back a sob. She'd heard others say things like that to Tye—she'd said them herself without thinking. Without knowing the hurt they'd caused.

She understood. Lord help her, she understood. She'd been jealous of Tye's affection for this child, and now that knowledge made her feel smaller than she'd ever felt.

The front door opened and closed and she looked up to find him gone. Wandering into their bedroom, she perched on the edge of the bed and stared absently at the open trunk. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

All that hurt and anger had been pent-up inside the man. No wonder he'd never let it out before. If it was her, she'd never have been able to quit releasing it once she'd started.

Her stomach churned. She got up and bolted out the front door and vomited into the weeds beside the house. After the display of nerves passed, she returned and prepared for bed.

She did understand Tye's need for and his attachment to Eve. But she'd been forced to suffer the scorn of the townspeople right along with him. How many of them suspected Eve was his child? Was that why they'd been particularly nasty?

Meg hated her selfishness, but some of it was justified. She had to live her life like this now, too.

Climbing into bed, she thought back over his every kindness, the sacrifices he'd made to get back her father's ring and the unselfish way he gave of himself in all things, and she knew she was the one who wasn't as good as him. But she wasn't sure how to change her feelings.

Especially now that they both believed Tye was Eve's real father. And now that she knew how strongly Tye felt about it. Once again, her world had been shaken. And she prayed she'd find a way to adapt.

A few nights later, Tye came in before dark so he could spend time with Eve before she went to sleep. Meg sat sewing near a lantern and Eve turned the pages of a book, pretending she was reading it aloud.

"I'm just in time for your story," Tye said, settling in the overstuffed chair he preferred.

Eve continued her story, embellishing with childlike details that brought a smile to Meg's face as well as a laugh to his lips. She finished, and he applauded.

Eve brought her trinket box out and chattered about the contents. "This here's the hankie that Meg made me. See, it has my initials in the corner by this little flower?"

"It's very pretty," he said, warmed to think something Meg had made her ranked among her treasures.

Eve withdrew a square-linked neck chain with a dangling locket. She held the round locket in her palm and the light winked from the distinctive rhinestones set in a crescent-moon shape. To the left side of the rhinestone moon was an opal sun.

Tye immediately recognized the piece of jewelry as one he'd purchased from a hawker many years ago and given to Lottie. She'd never had much, so he guessed it wasn't unusual she'd kept it all these years. It seemed strange seeing it again, however.

"This here's the prettiest neck chain in all of the kingdom," Eve said, still in her fairy-tale verbiage. "Meg thinks its pretty, too, don't you, Meg? And she thinks I'll look real pretty when I wear it after I'm big."

Tye nodded his agreement.

"Mama said when I'm bigger and I wear it, I will find my daddy."

Tye's attention riveted on her words. "What did she mean?"

"Mama said my daddy gave it to her, and when I find who gave it to her, I will find my daddy."

Tye could barely breathe around the emotion welling in his throat. Lottie
had
known! Now he could be certain that this child he'd grown to love was really his.

"I gave that to your mama, Evie," he said in a hoarse whisper.

In the other chair, Meg's fingers stilled on the fabric of the dress she held.

Eve looked up at Tye with round and trusting blue eyes. "You gave it to her? You did? Are you my daddy, Tye?"

He worked the lump in his throat so he could speak around it. "I'd be your daddy even if she hadn't said I was the one. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, and a bright smile lit her angelic features. She got up and stood leaning against his knee. "I can call you Daddy now?"

"If you want to."

"I do."

He lifted her up for a hug and settled her on his lap. She nestled into the warmth and comfort he was glad to offer.

A whole new security washed over Tye. He had a daughter, someone who belonged to him and him alone. Guiltily, he glanced over at Meg.

She placed her sewing on the basket beside her chair and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

The only break Tye took from haying in the next few weeks, other than quick meals and a few hours' sleep, was a previously arranged trip to town that Friday. He and Meg left Eve with Gus and traveled the distance to sign adoption papers at the lawyer's office. Now that Meg understood his feelings regarding her and the ranch, now that she knew Eve was really Tye's child, she took sad-sweet pleasure in watching him sign the documents and receive the certificate that said Eve was theirs.

She knew exactly how he felt about Joe now. Because she felt excluded from the relationship he and Eve were forming.

They stepped out onto the boardwalk, and the summer heat hit Meg full force. A woozy sensation filled her head. She must have swayed where she stood because Tye placed an arm securely around her waist.

"It's so hot," she said, feeling foolish.

"Want a lemonade before we head back?"

"Sure. Let's celebrate." He kept hold of her as they crossed the street and entered a small café populated by the afternoon tea crowd.

Edwina, Wilsie and Gwynn, along with several other women and three little girls, were seated at a table in front of the window. As soon as she and Tye entered, Meg knew the unnatural silence was due to something Edwina had said. Already hot and irritable, Meg swallowed her anger and disgust, gave Lilly a defiant little wave and turned her attention from the gossiping women.

Tye led her to a cloth-draped table. The male proprietor took their order and brought them mugs of cold lemonade. Meg sipped hers gratefully, her head clearing.

"Taking liberties with her in broad daylight," a voice she recognized as her former mother-in-law's trilled.

Meg drank the refreshing liquid and met Tye's stormy gaze, Edwina's words fueling her temper. The insult and injury Tye endured was never revealed on his face or in his actions. She was probably the only person who'd ever recognized Tye's hurt—and she was obviously the only one who'd ever cared.

"Thank God Joe had the decency and the manners to treat her like a lady. And back then she behaved like one."

Tye's jaw twitched and his lips formed an angry slash. But it was Meg who shot out of her chair and crossed to the other table.

"I am sick and tired of your constant harping about a man you know nothing of," she said, leaning over Edwina. "Tye Hatcher is the kindest, most honorable man I've ever known, and he doesn't pretend to be anything he's not. I've had it up to
here
—" she gestured with her hand across her forehead and saw Edwina flinch "—with your small-minded, puritanical, hypocritical, judgmental back-stabbing!"

Edwina's face turned purple with fury, and her over-endowed chest puffed out like an indignant banty hen's. "How dare you parade yourself and that man in front of this community. You may not care about your good name, but you could at least consider the rest of us Telfords!"

"I am pleased to inform you that my name is no longer
Telford
. It's Hatcher. And while the name Hatcher doesn't immediately make one think of a big house with a 'veranda—'" she said the word with an uppity inflection "—it does make one think of hard work and honesty."

Beside Edwina, Gwynn's mortification stood out plainly on her pale face. Lilly stared wide-eyed. Another woman, the one who'd spoken politely to Meg and Tye after his musical debut, gave Meg an embarrassed, apologetic look.

Wilsie pulled a bottle of smelling salts from her reticule and cast her mother wary looks.

"You have never cared about my good name, Edwina. Or my feelings or my future," Meg went on. A trickle of perspiration itched between her breasts and her vision blurred with the heat, but she had her teeth sunk into the immediate subject, and she wasn't ready to let go. "All your concern is for
your
name and
your
standing and
your
wants and wishes! You should be ashamed of the example you're setting for these women—
and
for Forrest and Lilly. You're teaching your grandchildren to be just as bigoted and close-minded as you—just like you taught Harley! I'm sorry, Gwynn."