Ginna Gray - A Baby For Emily

She turned an accusing look on Dillon. “If I had to lose a son it should have been you. Not my Keith.”

“Mother!”

“Adele!” Charlotte and Emily gasped in unison.

“Oh, Mother, how could you? That’s a horrible thing to say.”

Adele looked away, her mouth pinched so tight the tiny creases around her lips radiated like a starburst. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. That’s how I feel.”

Emily was so shocked that for the first time in three days she forgot about her own pain. She stared at her mother-in-law and wondered how she could utter such a heartless statement, no matter how grief-stricken. Especially to one of her own children.

“She didn’t mean it, Dillon,” Charlotte insisted, laying her hand on her brother’s arm. “She’s just upset, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it, sis.” He shrugged off the cruel comment as though it meant no more to him than an offhand remark from a stranger.

Dillon bid Roger good-night, kissed and hugged Charlotte and the kids, and, to Emily’s surprise, dutifully kissed Adele’s cheek. She turned her head away at the last instant, barely allowing his lips to graze her skin, and even though it was Dillon, Emily felt terrible for him.

When at last they were gone she closed the door and turned to him with a sympathetic look. “Charlotte is right, you know. She really didn’t mean it.”

“She meant it.”

“Oh, no. You mustn’t think that. That was just grief talking. Adele loves you.”

Dillon gave her an under-the-brow look. “C’mon, Emily. You’ve been in this family for seven years. You know better than that.”

He turned and headed back into the living room. Emily hurried after him.

“I know that Adele isn’t always nice to you—”

“Now there’s an understatement.”

“And I know that Keith was her favorite,” she continued. “I’m not condoning that, mind you. I don’t think it’s right for a parent to favor one child over another. But just because Adele did that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, too. Mothers love their children, no matter what.”

Resuming his seat, Dillon stretched his legs out in front of him, rested his head against the sofa back and looked at her from beneath half-closed eyes. “Yeah, that’s what they say. But it doesn’t always work out that way. As far back as I can remember she’s never been able to stomach the sight of me.”

“But—”

“Look, it’s okay. That’s just the way it is. I accepted it a long time ago.”

She opened her mouth to argue more, then shut it again. What was she doing? This was Dillon. The man was self-sufficient, remote and tough as old shoe leather. He didn’t need anyone. Apparently not even his own mother. If Adele’s hateful comments didn’t bother him, why should she be concerned? She had enough pain of her own to deal with. She had neither the will nor the energy to worry about other people’s problems.

Wearily, Emily resumed her seat, this time on the sofa across from the one on which Dillon sat. She turned her head and fixed her gaze on the blaze crackling in the fireplace without really seeing it. She felt numb and empty inside, as though her body were just a hollow, aching shell.

How could she have been so blind? Seven years. For seven years she had believed that she had the perfect life—a storybook marriage to a handsome, charming doctor who adored her, a lovely home, an active social life, friends, financial security—all the things she’d dreamed of during her lonely childhood. Now she knew that it had all been an illusion.

Unconsciously, her hand splayed over her flat belly. The only thing that had been missing from hers and Keith’s perfect life had been a baby, and he had even managed to give her that in the end.

Was that the problem? Had she been so focused on getting pregnant these past few years that she had lost sight of her husband’s needs and desires? Had she neglected him? Had he been unhappy with her?

No. No, she didn’t believe that. She and Keith had gotten along beautifully. In seven years they’d rarely had a cross word, for heaven’s sake. And Keith had wanted this baby as much as she had. Like her, he had been jubilant when Dr. Conn had telephoned them with the news on Monday afternoon.

So why had he turned to another woman? When had it started?

“Are you all right?”

Emily jumped and her head whipped around. She experienced a little shock when her gaze met Dillon’s. She had forgotten he was there.

“I…yes, I’m all right.”

“Maybe you ought to turn in. You’ve had a rough couple of days, and tomorrow isn’t going to be a piece of cake either.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You meet with your attorney to settle the estate and see where you stand financially. Remember?”

“Oh, yes. That. I’d forgotten.”

Emily eyed Dillon’s relaxed posture. She had expected him to leave with the others, or at least soon after. Instead he looked as though he had settled in for a long stay.

“You’re probably right.”

She climbed to her feet, but when Dillon failed to do the same she paused. “Uh, thank you for your help, with the funeral arrangements and all. I really appreciate everything you’ve done these past couple of days.” She began edging toward the door, hoping he’d take the hint. Dillon just continued to watch her from beneath those hooded eyes.

“No thanks necessary.”

“Yes, well…thanks anyway.”

She edged another few inches closer to the door, but still he didn’t move. Emily shifted from one foot to the other and clasped and unclasped her hands. Finally she decided that the best way to deal with Dillon was head-on.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but as you said, I probably ought to try to get some sleep.”

“Good idea.”

Relief poured through her. With a nod, she turned and started for the foyer again, but his next words brought her up short.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the guest room across the hall from you.”

She whirled around. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. So I’ll be staying here for a few days. I put my bag in the guest room earlier.”

“No, really, that’s not necessary. If I’d wanted company I would’ve let Ila Mae spend the night. I really do prefer to be alone.”

“That may be, but I’m staying.”

Emily’s nerves began to jump. As her anxiety grew she forgot all about caution. “Look, Dillon, you don’t understand. I don’t want you here. In case it hasn’t occurred to you, at the moment I’m not feeling all that well-disposed toward any male with the name Maguire.”

Unfolding himself from his slouched position, he slowly rose to his feet. He towered over her, his face carved in granite. “I’m not Keith, Emily,” he said in a voice that cut like honed steel.

Belatedly, she realized that butting heads with Dillon perhaps wasn’t the wisest course of action. He was the strong, silent type, but when aroused he had a formidable temper.

In the best of times he intimidated her, and at the moment she was feeling too shaky and beaten down to even attempt to do battle. “Look, I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. But it’s unnecessary. I’m fine.”

“How about the baby? Is he fine?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and gaped at him, and once again her hand went automatically to her stomach. “How did you—?”

“Keith called me from his car a couple of hours before he died.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped. She sank down onto the arm of a nearby chair and cupped her hand over her forehead. She should have known. Though they had been as opposite in personality as any two men could be, Keith and Dillon had always been close.

“I see,” she said finally. “Well, if it will put your mind at ease, the baby is fine. So you see, there’s really no reason for anyone to stay.”