Beth Cornelison - To Love, Honor And Defend

Libby stroked the cat’s head, thankful she had something to do with her restless hands. “And if I don’t?”

Cal angled his chin, assessing her. “You may hate me, but I know you’d never refuse to help a four-year-old girl. Ally needs you. She needs us to get her into a safe home. Thanks to my criminal record, the only way the court will give me custody is if I can prove I’ll provide her with the stability, safety and love she’s not getting now. The love part I’ve got covered.” Cal paused and rubbed the scar on his chin with his thumb, his jaw tight and his shrewd eyes gauging her reaction. When she continued to stare at him without speaking, he added, “I just need your cooperation, as my wife, for a couple years. Just until all the legal matters are settled and I have Ally free and clear. Then, if it’s what you want—” he pressed his lips in a frown and sighed “—I’ll let you walk away. No strings. Please, Libby, Ally is my heart, my everything. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”

“Even marry a woman you don’t love? Oh, wait…” She raised a finger as if struck by inspiration. “You already did.”

Cal’s jaw tensed even further, and his glare narrowed. “You know what it’s like to live with an addicted mother.”

Her lungs seized, and her grip on Jewel tightened.

“How dare you use my past against me,” she whispered.

“You know how it feels to be—”

“Stop! I don’t want to talk about my mother. When I told you about her, I warned you not to mention her or my past ever again.” Her voice cracked, and she spun away from him.

Why had she trusted him with even a glimpse of her painful childhood? Just another mistake she’d made with Cal, another example of how she’d given too much of herself away. But never again.

Jewel squirmed and jumped down from her arms.

Libby fought to plug the wellspring of painful memories Cal had tapped. Control.

“Cal, we can’t even be in the same room for five minutes without arguing. What kind of home will that be for Ally?”

“A whole lot better than the one she’s in now. I didn’t say I had all the answers. It’ll take effort from both of us to make this thing work. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, for Ally’s sake.”

Libby opened her mouth to tell him there were other solutions to his quandary that didn’t involve her and a marriage of convenience. Social workers, counseling for Renee, another candidate to be his temporary wife—anything!

She dusted cat hair off her work clothes and pushed aside the uneasy prickle at the thought of some other woman marrying Cal.

Whipping out his wallet, he flipped to a picture of a blue-eyed cherub with her daddy’s inky black hair.

A sharp pang pinched her heart.

Cal must have seen her weakening. He circled and moved in for the kill. “Can you tell her no? She’s an innocent in this whole mess. She deserves better than roaches in her bed at night and going to day care with no breakfast.”

Libby scowled and marched to the refrigerator, where she yanked out a quart of milk. “It couldn’t be as bad as that. Renee would never—”

“Renee doesn’t even know the day of the week most times. She and her live-in dirtwad are usually too stoned to take care of themselves, much less Ally!” He slapped his wallet shut and jammed it back in his pocket.

Setting the milk on the counter by the coffeepot, Libby straightened her back and lifted her chin. “There are laws to protect children in cases like this. Someone from Child Welfare should—”

“No! Not the courts. Ally doesn’t need bureaucracy or some government yahoo. I’m her father. I want her. She needs me!” He thrust his hands through his hair and growled his frustration. The muscle in his jaw jumped wildly as he ground his teeth.

The passion saturating his tone and the worry creasing his face reminded Libby of the man she’d grown close to, fallen in love with, five years ago. For all his machismo and toughness, his tender and compassionate side had touched her heart.

“When Renee and I divorced two years ago, I was awarded visitation rights. Every other weekend, Ally is supposed to be with me. While I was in prison, I obviously couldn’t take my weekends, and since my parole three weeks ago, I’ve only had one weekend with my daughter. But I saw enough that weekend to convince me Ally was in jeopardy. My lawyer filed the petition for custody Monday. I have to do this soon or I could lose my case.” He gave her a pointed look. “Again.”

She blinked back the sting of tears, the pain of all they’d lost and her own concern for his daughter. Pulling in a deep breath, she battled the turmoil rolling through her. Stay in control.

How could she do it? She had enough to worry about with a stalker following her. How could she tangle her life up with Cal’s again?

“So what’ll it be, Libby? Will you help us? I give you my word, you’ll be free to go, to file for divorce, once I know my rights to Ally are secure.”

A throwaway marriage. Just as their first relationship had been disposable to him. She rubbed a throbbing ache growing at her temple. “I don’t know, Cal. I need time to think.”

Why were personal decisions always so difficult? What if she made the wrong choice and screwed up her life or someone else’s? She thought she’d outgrown the nerve-racking responsibility of no-win choices that had been her mother’s legacy.

She needed black-and-white. Clear-cut answers and certainties. Someone she could count on. Especially now while this stalker was out there watching her. But nothing about Cal was black-and-white.

He spread his hands in supplication. “Ally and I need your help stacking the deck in our favor. I don’t want the court to have any reason to deny my motion for custody.”

Gray. That’s what Cal was. Or rather, he was passionate shades of red and green and gold. A confusing blur of color.

As if to punctuate this fact, his eyes turned the shade of a stormy azure sea, brimming with heartbreaking desperation. Desperation she’d seen too often in her mother’s eyes while growing up.

“Please?” The whispered plea, reverberating with a father’s love and a proud man’s struggle with humility, twisted inside her.

“I’ll think about it.”

But she knew she’d lost.

The man behind her quickened his pace. She heard his ragged breathing, smelled his fetid breath. She tried to run, but her mother held on to her feet, sobbing. “Help me, Libby. I don’t know what to do!”

“I’m going to get you, bitch,” her pursuer growled from inches behind her. But she couldn’t see him. It was dark. So dark.

His footsteps pounded on the stairs. Louder. Louder.

“Libby!”

She woke with a gasp and jackknifed up in her bed.

But the pounding continued. She swept a glance around her dim bedroom, orienting herself. Jewel slept draped over her legs, a feline deadweight. Seven-oh-three glowed from her bedside clock. She’d only been dreaming about her stalker, but the person beating on her front door was real.

“Come on, Lib! Open up!”

Cal. He may have stayed away yesterday, given her a little room to think, but danged if he wasn’t back, bright and early, barely thirty-six hours later—no doubt to demand an answer. Honestly, she was surprised he’d given her breathing room all of Friday rather than pressing her for a commitment last night.

Groaning, she scooted Jewel aside and dragged herself from her warm covers. She hurried to the door before Cal’s yelling woke the neighbors.

“Do you know what time it is?” she snapped, still edgy from her nightmare. She poked her arms in the robe she’d snatched from the foot of the bed and finger-combed her hair with jerky swipes.