Maternal Instinct (25 page)

Uh-oh. Nell braced herself. Was this when Hugh's mother told her how disappointed she was in his choice of bride?

Nell opted for frankness. "It must have come as a shock to you."

"Oh, a surprise, certainly." Ivy met Nell's eyes calmly. "To be candid, I'm delighted."

"You are?" Nell gulped. "I mean … I'm flattered. But I didn't expect… That is, I was afraid his family would look down on me. Considering, um, the circumstances." How articulate, she thought miserably. How poised. She sounded like a teenager put on the spot, not a mature adult! Damn it, the pregnancy was just as much Hugh's fault as hers!

Ivy picked up the spoon and stirred her coffee unnecessarily, as though to give herself a moment. Nell waited in agony.

"We were all pleased," her mother-in-law said at last, carefully. "We feared Hugh would never settle down. He's showed no interest in marriage or having a family of his own. It seemed he was careful never to date any woman long enough to give her expectations."

"Maybe he just hadn't met the right woman."

Ivy was shaking her head before Nell got through her tentative explanation. "Hugh shied from any sort of commitment."

"But … why?"

Only in her late fifties, Ivy McLean suddenly looked older. "I don't really know. He was young enough when his father died that he may scarcely remember living with two parents. I worked so many hours, he was virtually raised by his older brothers. It may be that not experiencing a normal family life affected him."

"But your family seems so close!" Nell leaned forward. "You get together every weekend, and John and Connor are Hugh's best friends.
They
both appear to be happily married."

"Yes." Her face softened. "I meant it when I told you I feel fortunate. Natalie and Mariah are lovely young women."

But I'm not,
Nell thought.
Not really. And Hugh didn't
choose
to marry me, not the way his brothers chose their brides.

She felt … slow, not to have understood quicker what her mother-in-law was saying.

"You think Hugh wouldn't have gotten married at all unless he had to," Nell said abruptly. "You're glad he was forced into marriage by my pregnancy."

"I think the pregnancy gave him a little push," Ivy conceded. "I can't believe he would have asked if he wasn't in love with you. What I fear is that he wouldn't have acknowledged his own feelings if he hadn't had the baby to think about."

Nell felt cold inside. Acknowledged his own feelings? Hugh didn't have any for her. He didn't even pretend that he did. As kind and romantic as he'd been, the most he had claimed was to have wanted her.

What her mother-in-law was telling her was that Hugh had carefully avoided a walk down the aisle or fatherhood. She'd known he hadn't wanted to marry
her
in particular; what she hadn't known was that he'd hated the idea of marriage at all. But he was a good man, one bound by rigid notions of duty and honor and chivalry, and he'd had to offer.

Only, she hadn't had to accept. If she'd known, Nell thought unhappily, she wouldn't have.

"I shouldn't have married him."

"My dear! Of course you should have! You're his salvation!"

"His salvation?" Nell stared at her in horror. "A woman who forced him into marriage?"

"Did you?"

Agitated, she jumped to her feet and paced the length of the living room. "Not in the sense that I held a gun to his head, but I could have refused!" She swung to face her mother-in-law. "I should have."

Ivy was shaking her head. "No, you're exactly what he needs. A woman with spirit, physical courage and backbone. And Hugh was made to be a father! He adores children. You've seen him with his nieces and nephews—you know it's true. He might never have had a child of his own if it hadn't happened accidentally. You'll see," she concluded confidently. "He'll end up grateful. Why, he may already be!"

Oh God, oh God,
Nell thought. Grateful? He probably felt more like a first-timer hearing the gates clanging shut behind him as he started a life term at the state penitentiary. He probably wanted to drop to his knees and howl in anguish.

And she had done this to him.

Seemingly unaware of the turmoil into which she'd thrown Nell, Ivy began stirring her virtually untouched coffee yet again. "I'm afraid he's rather avoiding me at the moment."

"What?" Still engulfed in pain, Nell had trouble comprehending the shift of topic.

"I said something that … upset him." Her composure momentarily cracked. "He hasn't … told you?"

"No." Nell struggled to focus on the other woman's distress. "No, he hasn't."

"I came today partly in hopes you'd talk to him. I want to make certain he doesn't risk his career pursuing a case his superiors have dismissed." Her voice took on a tremor. "I greatly fear he's doing it for my sake."

Still stunned, Nell made herself sit again. "Hugh did say this case is symbolic for him. That arresting this murderer would … oh, stand in for seeing his father's killer caught. I'm really not sure it has anything to do with you."

Ivy didn't seem to have heard her. Expression troubled, she gazed at a framed photo of Hugh receiving a commendation that Nell had added to the collection on the fireplace mantel. "He was so angry at me. A slip of the tongue…"

Not having the slightest idea what she was talking about, Nell waited. When Ivy didn't say any more, Nell took the bull by the horns. "What slip of the tongue?" Belatedly she added, "If you don't mind telling me."

Red stained Ivy's cheeks. "We were talking about this case. I intended to refer to Jerome Ryman's killer, and what came out was—" she visibly drew breath and courage "—I said he had to find his father's killer."

"Oh, no," Nell exclaimed involuntarily.

With obvious difficulty, her mother-in-law met her eyes. Pride battled with shame in them. "This terrible bloodbath brought back those times for me. I know that I would have achieved…" she seemed to seek the right words, finally saying carefully "…greater resolution to my grief if my husband's murderer had been arrested and tried. When this shooting at the Joplin Building happened, it upset me. I've let it become … perhaps more than a symbol. It awakened this awful anger in me." Even now, her voice shook with it. "I would have joined a lynch mob if one had formed, even though I believe strongly in the law and our legal system. I wanted somebody to be punished."

"Jack Gann is beyond punishment," Nell said slowly, remembering the quiet rage in Hugh's voice when he had sat beside her on the beach, arms resting on his knees.

His voice echoed in her memory.

All the lives he took, all the husbands and wives who'll have to grieve, all the kids who'll grow up without their mom or dad—he never had to look at them and see what he'd done. In a way, he's gotten away with it, too.

Had the suppressed fury been for himself, for the childhood spent without a father? Or had he been thinking of his mother, who had let past and present slip until they were one?

"Yes," Ivy said, her face more ravaged than elegant. "But that isn't the point. I suppose I thought it was, but I heard John and Connor talking. Hugh has this … this obsession." She was not a woman who would let herself cry, but her unhappiness was the more stark for the lack of tears. "It's my fault. I want to make things right."

"What is it you think I can do?"

"He'll listen to you. You're his wife."

"But I'm not sure he
is
doing this for you." She didn't want to hurt Hugh's mother, but her deepest instinct told her not to intervene. "He must have felt very helpless as a boy when his father was murdered. Could this be his way of … oh, finally achieving mastery?"

"I don't know." Ivy's mouth twisted. "He accused me of pushing all three of my sons to become police officers. He said they were nothing to me but weapons, that I didn't care what
they'd
wanted." She drew a shuddering breath. "I wish I could say he's completely wrong. I so badly wanted justice… He'd say it was vengeance I craved. I think what I really wanted with all my heart was for it to have never happened. There were … warnings, you see. All disregarded. If the police had done their jobs…"

What Nell saw with painful clarity was three young boys watching their mother's unbearable grief and hearing her lament. This never had to have happened, not if the police had done their jobs.

In becoming cops, they must all have believed at some unspoken, gut level,
they could make it not have happened.
Their father would be alive, their mother content, their own childhoods Norman Rockwell images of boys and their fathers playing ball.

Only they couldn't change a thing.

Nell wondered when each had realized that. Was that when Connor had decided to hang up his cuffs and go back to graduate school?

A troubling thought followed. Did Hugh still believe he could make everything right? It would explain why he'd turned down promotions to detective, since on the street he prevented crime instead of investigating the aftermath. Did he still see himself as some kind of modern-day, glorified knight on a charger instead of a pragmatic, cynical cop who understood what he could and couldn't realistically accomplish?

Staring, unseeing, at her mother-in-law, Nell asked herself,
What will happen the day he's
forced
to understand that he will forever fail? That he
can't
change the past?

How would he cope?

Eyes slowly focusing on his mother, Nell said slowly, "I think you should tell Hugh what you just told me. He needs to hear it from you, not me."

Hugh's mother gave a twisted smile. "But, you see, he won't listen to me. He hasn't really talked to me in weeks. Not since…"

Since her slip of the tongue, of course. Since she had explicitly laid responsibility for avenging his father's murder on her youngest son.

"I do believe he's right about Jerome Ryman's murder," Nell felt compelled to add. "Hugh told me that John was coming around to believing him."

"I don't know." Ivy sounded vague and
quavery
. "I wouldn't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to coerce you to intervene. Not when you're a newlywed. I'm afraid I deserve Hugh's anger. Well." She seemed to collect herself and got to her feet. "Forgive me. This is jumping into family problems with both feet."

"I don't mind." Nell stood, too. "I understand your worry."

"You're a mother." Ivy spoke as though it were a matter of course. "Your daughter is lovely, you know. Looking at her, I'm almost glad my own children were sons. They're easier in some ways."

They couldn't get pregnant, which Nell supposed was something. But she wasn't about to confide her chief anxiety concerning her daughter. Ivy McLean would go away thinking they were both sluts.

Maybe they were. Maybe it ran in the family. After all, look at her example, Nell thought wretchedly.

After seeing her mother-in-law out, Nell discarded the cold coffee, then turned off the coffeemaker. She wasn't in the mood anymore. Instead she grabbed a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream out of the freezer and dug right into it with a spoon. Her dark mood demanded gluttony.

Why was she so bothered, Nell wondered, momentarily pausing with the spoon suspended above the open ice-cream carton. She'd
known
why Hugh was marrying her. She was no blushing bride who had just discovered her groom had faked his ardor. If this marriage didn't work… Well, so be it. She tried to shrug blithely. Had to do it two or three times before her shoulders achieved the right insouciance.

There were thousands of divorces every day. She was used to being a single mother, managing on her own. She didn't need him.

Horrified to discover that she was about to cry, Nell dug out a spoonful of ice cream and popped it in her mouth. Savoring the creamy texture surrounding a rough chunk of chocolate, she held off the absurd desire to weep.

Yeah, okay, she liked Hugh. Way more than she'd ever expected to. And the sex was really, really good.
Really
good. It had been a long time since she'd felt beautiful or desirable, and she would hate to find out he'd been pretending about that part. The idea of having a more secure income was nice, too. And his casual remark that he thought he'd build an arbor in the back, like the one at John's house, had given her a rosy picture of the two of them working on the house and gardening together. Having somebody to talk to, somebody
adult,
had been a refreshing change, too. He listened when she worried about Kim or the new property tax assessment or how she'd endure being stuck behind a desk at work. She wasn't used to that, either.