This Heart of Mine (10 page)

Andrew looked up at them and grimaced. "Yucky, mush, mush."

"They're supposed to kiss, you baby," Tess said from behind.

"I'm not a baby!"

Molly leaned down to hug him before he could get worked up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dan shake Kevin's hand and Phoebe give him a quick embrace. It was awkward and awful, and Molly couldn't wait to get away. Except that was a problem all in itself.

They made a play of sipping a few drops of champagne, but neither of them managed to eat more than a bite of the small white wedding cake. "Let's get out of here," Kevin finally growled in her ear.

Molly didn't have to fabricate a headache. She'd been feeling increasingly ill all afternoon. "All right."

Kevin murmured something about getting on the road before it snowed.

"A good idea," Phoebe said. "I'm glad you're taking us up on our offer."

Molly tried to look as if the prospect of spending a few days in Door County with Kevin weren't her worst nightmare.

"It's the best thing to do," Dan agreed. "The house is far enough away that you'll avoid the worst of the media stir when we make the announcement."

"Besides," Phoebe said with phony cheer, "it'll give you a chance to get to know each other better."

"Can't wait for that," Kevin muttered.

They didn't bother changing their clothes, and ten minutes later Molly was kissing Roo good-bye. Under the circumstances she thought it best to leave her dog with her sister.

As Molly and Kevin drove off in his Ferrari, Tess and Julie wrapped crepe-paper streamers around Andrew while Hannah cuddled up to her father.

"My car's at an Exxon station a couple of miles from here. Turn left when you get to the highway." The idea of being closed up together for the seven-and-a-half-hour trip to northern Wisconsin had been more than her nerves could handle.

Kevin slipped on his silver-framed Revos. "I thought we'd agreed on the Door County plan."

"I'll drive there in my own car."

"Suits me."

Kevin followed her directions and pulled into the service station a few minutes later. His arm pressed her waist as he leaned across her to open the passenger door. Molly took the keys from her purse and climbed out.

He roared off without a word.

She cried all the way to the Wisconsin border.

Kevin made a detour to his home in one of Oak Brook's gated communities, where he changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. He picked up a couple of CDs by a Chicago jazz group he liked, along with a book about climbing Everest that he'd forgotten to stick in his suitcase. He thought about fixing himself something to eat since he wasn't in any hurry to get back on the road, but he'd lost his appetite along with his freedom.

As he headed north into Wisconsin on I-94, he tried to remember the way he'd felt when he'd swum with the reef sharks only a little over a week ago, but he couldn't recapture the sensation. Rich athletes were a target for predatory women, and the notion that she might have gotten pregnant on purpose had occurred to him. But Molly didn't need the money. No, she'd been after kicks instead, and she hadn't bothered to consider the consequences.

North of Sheboygan his cell phone rang. When he answered, he heard the voice of Charlotte Long, a woman who'd been his parents' friend for as long as he could remember. Like his parents, she'd spent her summers at his family's campground in northern Michigan, and she still returned there every June. He'd been out of contact with her until his mother's death.

"Kevin, your Aunt Judith's attorney just called me again."

"Terrific," he muttered. He remembered Charlotte talking with his father and mother after the daily service in the Tabernacle. Even in his earliest memories they'd all seemed ancient.

At the time of his birth his parents' well-ordered lives had centered on the Grand Rapids church where his father had been pastor, the books they'd loved, and their scholarly hobbies. They had no other children, and they didn't have a clue what to do with a lively little boy they loved with all their hearts but didn't understand.

Please try to sit still, sweetheart.

How did you get so dirty?

How did you get so sweaty?

Not so fast.

Not so loud.

Not so fierce.

Football, son? I believe my old tennis racket is stored in the attic. Let's try that instead?

Even so, they'd attended his games because that's what good parents did in Grand Rapids. He still remembered looking up into the stands and catching sight of their anxious, mystified faces.

They must have wondered how they hatched you.

That's what Molly had said when he'd told her about them. She might be wrong about everything else, but she sure had been right about that.

"He said you haven't called him." The note of accusation was strong in Charlotte's voice.

"Who?"

"Your Aunt Judith's attorney. Pay attention, Kevin. He wants to talk about the campground."

Even though Kevin had known what Charlotte was going to say, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Conversations about the Wind Lake Campground always made him tense, which was why he avoided them. It was the place where the gap between himself and his parents had been the most painful.

The campground had been established by his greatgrandfather on some land he'd bartered for in remote northeastern Michigan during the late 1800s. From the beginning it had served as a summer gathering place for Methodist religious revivals. Since it was located on an inland lake instead of on the ocean, it never acquired the fame of campgrounds like Ocean Grove, New Jersey, or Oak Bluffs on Martha's Vineyard, but it had the same gingerbread cottages, as well as a central Tabernacle where services had been held.

Growing up, Kevin had been forced to spend summers there as his father conducted daily services for the dwindling number of elderly people who came back each year. Kevin was always the only child.

"You realize the campground is yours now that Judith has died," Charlotte said unnecessarily.

"I don't want it."

"Of course you do. It's been passed down through the Tucker family for over a hundred years. It's an institution, and you certainly don't want to be the one to end that."

Oh, yes, he did. "Charlotte, the place is a sinkhole for money. With Aunt Judith dead, there's no one to look after it."

"You're going to look after it. She's taken good care of everything. You can hire someone to run it."

"I'm selling it. I have a career to concentrate on."

"You can't! Really, Kevin, it's part of your family history. Besides, people still come back every year."

"I'll bet that makes the local undertaker happy."

"What was that? Oh, dear… I have to go or I'll be late to my watercolor class."

She hung up before he could tell her about his marriage. Just as well. Talking about the campground darkened an already black mood.

God, those summers had been agonizing. While his friends at home played baseball and hung out, he was stuck with a bunch of old people and a million rules.

Not so much splashing when you're in the water, dear. The ladies don't like getting their hair wet.

Worship starts in half an hour, son. Get cleaned up.

Were you throwing your ball against the Tabernacle again? There are marks all over the paint.

When he'd turned fifteen, he'd finally rebelled and nearly broken their hearts.

I'm not going back, and you can't make me! It's so damn boring there! I hate it! I'll run away if you try to make me go back! I mean it!

They'd given in, and he'd spent the next three summers in Grand Rapids with his friend Matt. Mart's dad was young and tough. He'd played college football for the Spartans, and every evening he threw the ball around with them. Kevin had worshipped him.

Eventually John Tucker had grown too old to minister, the Tabernacle had burned down, and the religious purpose of the campgrounds had come to an end. His Aunt Judith had moved into the bleak old house on the grounds where Kevin and his parents used to stay, and she'd continued to rent out the cottages in the summer. Kevin had never returned.

He didn't want to think anymore about those endless, boring summers filled with old people shushing him, so he cranked up the volume on his new CD. But just as he left the interstate behind, he spotted a familiar chartreuse Beetle on the shoulder of the road. Gravel clicked against the under-carriage as he pulled over. It was Molly's car, all right. She was leaning against the steering wheel.

Great. Just what he needed. A hysterical female. What right did she have to be hysterical? He was the one who should be howling.

He debated driving away, but she'd probably already spotted him, so he got out and walked toward the car.

The pain stole her breath, or maybe it was the fear. Molly knew she had to get to a hospital, but she was afraid to move. Afraid if she moved, the hot, sticky wetness that had already seeped through the skirt of her white woolen wedding dress would become a flood that would sweep away her baby.

She'd attributed the first cramps to hunger pangs from forgetting to eat all day. Then a spasm had gripped her that was so strong she'd barely been able to pull the car over.

She folded her hands over her stomach and curled in on herself.
Please don't let me lose this baby. Please, God
.

"Molly?"

Through the haze of her tears, she saw Kevin peering through the car window. When she didn't move, he rapped on the glass. "Molly, what's wrong?"

She tried to respond but couldn't.

He jiggled the handle. "Unlock the door."

She began to reach for it, but another cramp hit. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around her thighs to hold them together.

He rapped again, harder this time. "Hit the lock! Just hit it!"

Somehow she managed to do as he asked.

A wave of bitterly cold air struck her as he jerked open the door, and his breath made a frosty cloud in the air. "What's wrong?"

Fear clogged her throat. All she could do was bite her lip and squeeze her thighs more tightly.

"Is it the baby?"

She managed a jerky nod.

"Do you think you're having a miscarriage?"

"
No
!" She fought the pain and tried to speak more calmly. "No, it's not a miscarriage. Just—just some cramps."

She could see that he didn't believe her, and she hated him for it.

"Let's get you to a hospital."

He ran to the other side of the car, opened the door, and reached through to shift her into the passenger seat, but she couldn't let him do that. If she moved… "No! Don't… don't move me!"

"I have to. I won't hurt you. I promise."

He didn't understand. It wasn't she who'd be hurt. "No…"

But he didn't listen. She gripped her thighs tighter as he reached beneath her and awkwardly shifted her into the other seat. The effort left her gasping.

He raced back to his car and returned moments later with his cell phone and a wool stadium blanket that he tossed over her. Before he slid behind the wheel, he threw a jacket on the seat. Covering up her blood.

As he pulled back onto the highway, she willed her arms to keep their strength as she clamped her legs together. He was talking to someone on the phone… locating a hospital. The tires on her tiny Bug squealed as they hurtled down the highway and around a bend. Reckless, daredevil driving.
Please, God
…

She had no idea how long it took to reach the hospital. She knew only that he was opening the door next to her and getting ready to pick her up again.

She tried to blink away her tears as she gazed up at him. "Please… I know you hate me, but…" She gasped against another cramp. "My legs… I have to keep my legs together."

He studied her for a moment, then slowly nodded.

She felt as though she weighed nothing as he slipped his arms beneath the skirt of her wedding dress and lifted her so effortlessly. He pressed her thighs tightly against his body and carried her through the door.

Someone came forward with a wheelchair, and he hurried toward it.

"No…" She tried to grip his arm, but she was too weak. "My legs… If you set me down…"

"Right here, sir," the attendant called out.

"Just show me where to take her," Kevin said.

"I'm sorry, sir, but—"

"Get moving!"

She rested her cheek against his chest and for a moment felt as if she and her baby were safe. The moment evaporated as he carried her into a curtained cubicle and carefully set her on the table.

"We'll take care of her while you go to registration, sir," the nurse said.

He squeezed Molly's hand. For the first time since he'd come back from Australia, he looked concerned instead of hostile. "I'll be right back."

As she gazed into the flickering fluorescent light above her, she wondered how he'd fill out the paperwork. He didn't know her birthday or her middle name. He knew nothing about her.