he touched her, surrounding her slender body with his, taking her into his arms, Susan melted against him. Every nerve in his body screamed.
“It’s all right, Susie Q,” he told her, using the nickname he’d given her when she’d been a kid. “You go ahead and get it all out. I’ll be here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
She clung to him. Sobbing. Trembling. Moaning. He held her as gently as he could, all his protective instincts on high and putting him on edge.
She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll be all right.” She stepped out of his embrace and took a wobbly step backward. When he reached out to steady her, she moved uneasily away.
“I realize that you want to do what you can to bring Lowell’s killer to justice...” She paused, took a deep breath and then continued. “If you move back to Crooked Oak—”
“When I move back to Crooked Oak,” he corrected her.
“Yes. When you move back, I’m sure we’ll see each other from time to time during the next year. That can’t be avoided. People will expect us to...to...”
“To be friendly toward each other.”
“Yes. And I want that. I want us to be friends. Lowell would have wanted us to be... If I need you, I’ll call you. But I have friends who’ll be here for me and, most importantly, I have my baby. Having my child to think about will see me through the rough times.”
“My child.” Hank had said the words without thinking, his voice a strained whisper.
“No!” she protested. “This baby is Lowell’s child.”
“I realize you think of the child as Lowell’s, but we both know that I fathered your baby.” Hank laid his hand over her flat belly.
She froze on the spot. “The agreement was for you to donate your sperm because Lowell didn’t want a stranger to father our child.” Susan snatched Hank’s hand off her stomach. “Lowell trusted you to keep our secret, to let this baby be his completely.”
“And if Lowell had lived, I would have adhered to the terms of that agreement. But Lowell is dead. He can’t be a father to your baby.”
“Yes, he...Lowell is...” Tears streamed down her face.
Hank grasped her shoulders. “The child you’re carrying is mine. And whether you like it or not, now that Lowell is dead, it’s my responsibility to take care of you!”
Two
Lowell had been dead ten days. Ten of the worst days of her life. All their plans for the future had died with him—the happy family life that they had envisioned when their baby was born. But Lowell would never see their child—the child he had so desperately wanted. A child that he had known she wanted more than anything on earth.
When the doctors told them that it was unlikely, if not impossible, that Lowell would ever impregnate her, he had been the one to embrace the idea of artificial insemination. She had been reluctant at the thought of a stranger fathering her child, but she’d become even more reluctant when Lowell had suggested asking Hank Bishop to donate his sperm.
“Hank’s said more than once that he’s not the marrying kind,” Lowell had told her. “He doesn’t want a wife and kids.”
“What makes you think Hank would agree to—to donate his sperm so that we can have a baby?”
“Because Hank thinks he owes me for saving his life when we were kids. Besides, he’s the only man I know I’d want to be the biological father of our child. Hank’s smart, a real man’s man and the best friend I’ve ever had.”
At first she had refused to even consider Hank as the donor, but eventually Lowell had worn down her resistance. Lowell and your own foolish girlhood dreams! an inner voice taunted.
“Need any help in here, Mrs. Redman?” Deputy Nancy Steele asked as she poked her head inside the door.
“No, thanks, Nancy. I’ve got just about everything packed away.”
“Well, when you’re ready to put the boxes in your van, let me know and some of us will take them out for you.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, Nancy?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to leave a message for Hank Bishop.”
“Certainly. We’re expecting him sometime this afternoon,” Nancy replied. “Do you want to leave a written message or a—”
“Verbal. Please tell Hank that I wish him well and that I appreciate—” Susan’s voice cracked. She appreciated what? That he was going to be in Crooked Oak for the next year? That he had promised her quite vehemently that he was going to be around to look after her and the baby? His baby! He’d let her know in no uncertain terms that, with Lowell dead, he intended to take over Lowell’s responsibilities for her and the child.
“I understand, Mrs. Redman.” Nancy looked at Susan with pity in her eyes. “But I’m sure Mr. Bishop...er, Sheriff Bishop will be stopping by your house to check on you.”
Dear God, that’s what I’m afraid of, Susan thought. No one knows that this child I’m carrying isn’t Lowell’s biological child—no one except the doctors in Nashville, Hank Bishop and Sheila. Would the townspeople believe Hank’s attention to her was nothing more than a good friend looking out for his buddy’s widow?
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. After all, Hank was Lowell’s oldest and dearest friend. It would be only natural that he’d keep an eye on me, especially...”
“We’re all so sorry about Lowell. He was the best man I ever knew. But you have his child and that should be a comfort to you.”
“Yes, it is.” Susan almost choked on the lie. But this isn’t Lowell’s baby, she wanted to scream. Don’t you see, that’s the problem?
“I’ll go so you can finish up in here. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” Nancy exited the office and closed the door behind her.
Susan sat in Lowell’s big, swivel desk chair and glanced around his office. No, not Lowell’s office any longer. Not after today. Appointed by the governor, Hank Bishop would be sworn in as the new Marshall County sheriff tomorrow morning.
She should have cleared out Lowell’s things days ago, but somehow she hadn’t been able to bring herself to face the task. To clean out his desk, to remove his certificates and pictures from the walls, to remove his books and magazines from the small bookshelf in the corner.
She lifted the silver frame that lay atop one of the open boxes on the desk. A smiling couple looked back at her from the photograph. Her wedding picture. Lowell and she had been very happy that day, the first day of their married life together. Lowell had loved her deeply and had been completely devoted to her. He’d been the kindest, most considerate lover, and her wedding night had been a prelude to many nights of gentle lovemaking.
Susan caressed Lowell’s image with her fingertips. “Oh, you sweet, sweet man. What am I going to do without you? You were my protector. My shield against the world. You kept me safe and secure. As long as I had you, I didn’t have to be afraid of...”
She couldn’t say it out loud. Couldn’t voice her greatest fear. But the secret she’d kept buried in her heart for so long could no longer be ignored. Lowell couldn’t save her from herself anymore. He couldn’t save her from the wild, illogical passion she’d always felt for Hank Bishop.
She clutched the picture frame in her hands, laid her forehead on the glass and wept.
A few minutes later Hank Bishop found her weeping when he opened the door to Lowell’s office. He’d gotten an early start