C.J. Carmichael - A convenient proposal

“Does Abby know how you feel about marriage? About her? She’s always struck me as the romantic type.”

Mick freed the air trapped in his lungs. He didn’t like the direction of Kelly’s conversation. He had to marry Abby. If he didn’t, he’d lose precious weeks of courting time; he didn’t want to start from scratch with another woman.

“Why don’t you hire a nanny instead of getting married?”

He’d thought about that option a lot. It had much to recommend it, but most of the benefits were to him, not the kids. “After all Billy and Mandy have been through, a nanny just isn’t good enough.”

“I see.”

“Don’t give me that look. If Abby agrees to marry me, I intend to be a good husband.”

“I’m sure that you do.”

Abruptly, Mick started back toward his vehicle. Kelly stuck right beside him, her long stride easily matching his purposeful pace. At the door to his truck he paused to fish out his keys. The next thing he knew, Kelly had her hand over the lock.

“What are you doing?”

“Mick, I don’t think you should marry Abby.”

He swore for the second time that night. “And what about Billy and Amanda?” he asked. “I suppose you have a better idea how I can look after them?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said, her voice oddly calm.

“You can marry me.”

“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.” Mick concentrated on Kelly’s determined expression. She didn’t appear to be pulling his leg. Her suggestion that they marry was genuine.

A gust of wind flattened his hair and brought tears to his eyes. It was so cold out here, Kelly’s lips had gone blue.

“Let’s go to my place and talk,” he suggested.

Kelly nodded. She hadn’t spoken since telling him he should marry her. Perhaps she’d gone into shock. He opened his passenger door again and motioned her inside.

The drive to his house took less than five minutes—insufficient time for warm air to start blowing from the vehicle’s heating system or even for the electric seat warmers to have much effect. He figured Kelly was even more frozen than he was by the time he had her sitting near the stoked-up fireplace in his living room. He left her holding her hands to the heat, while he put on coffee.

Coming back into the room, Mick took fresh stock of the woman. Tall and lean, she’d always given him the impression of athletic strength. Her brown hair was thick and shoulder length—he realized he was used to seeing it up in the bun she always wore when she was in uniform.

Up until the past two months, most of their encounters had occurred when they were both at work. When he needed information about RCMP activities, he’d always preferred asking Kelly. She had a quick, logical mind and a reserved nature that he felt comfortable with. He appreciated her sense of humor, too, which was subtle and slightly self-deprecating. Truthfully, he’d enjoyed her company so much, he’d been tempted to ask her out.

But given his past history in this town, he’d thought it safer to continue to date women outside the sphere of Canmore.

“Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Are you getting warmer?”

“The feeling’s back in my fingers,” she said, still facing the fire. Her profile captivated him. He moved closer, to a chair just a few feet from where she was standing. From here, he could feel the heat from the fireplace, as well as continue to observe her.

“I understand that you must feel terrible about my brother.” And he did. His journalistic training was too ingrained for him not to see both sides of the story. Despite his anger and grief at Danny’s death, he knew that Kelly had only acted in accordance with RCMP procedure.

She’d shown up at the Thunder Bar M ranch in pursuit of her sister Cathleen and Dylan McLean. The intrepid couple, believing Danny had been involved in the murder of Dylan’s mother, Rose, were determined to speak with him.

Ironically, it was Kelly’s arrival on the scene that had panicked Danny—probably because of the stash of drugs he had hidden on the premises. Mick had read all the reports. He knew his brother had pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it right at Cathleen.

He also knew that, by all accounts, Kelly had tried to defuse Danny’s fear, speaking to him calmly and gently. But Danny had been too worked up. He’d cocked the trigger of his handgun, and that was it. Kelly had aimed, fired—

And Danny was dead.

Later, they’d discovered he’d played no part in Rose Strongman’s death. And while the quantity of drugs he’d been storing would have seen him doing serious jail time, his life had been a high price to pay.

Still, Mick couldn’t blame Kelly for his brother’s foolish mistakes.

“Don’t think it’s guilt that’s behind my suggestion,” Kelly said now.

“What else could it be?” Mick wondered if she knew how much she’d changed since the shooting. Become thinner, quieter, more serious.

“Well, that’s part of it,” she admitted. “But it’s way more complicated.”

“I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Mick, I genuinely care about those children. I would do anything to help them. Anything.” She sat on the ottoman by his chair, leaning over her knees, entreating.

Something in him wanted to give her whatever she asked for. And, face it, she was offering him a solution to his own dilemma. But this was too important to decide impetuously.

“How will you feel in a year, or two, or ten? Kelly, I’m not interested in a temporary fix here.”

“I understand that. I do.”

In the small, bookshelf-lined room her words echoed like a marriage vow.

“Mick, you have to understand. I can’t imagine what I’m going to do with my life if you say no. You know I’m suspended from police work. Once the attorney general’s investigation into Danny’s death is completed, I’ll still have to wait out our own internal inquiry and the provincial fatality inquiry.”

Mick was familiar with the process. Because of objectivity issues, he hadn’t been covering the story in the Leader, but his number-one reporter was doing a thorough job. “How long will it take?”

“At best six months, assuming the attorney general doesn’t lay criminal charges.” Kelly ran her hands back over her head, pulling her hair tight from her face. “The thing is, even after all this is over, I can’t imagine returning to police work.”

Her eyes flooded and she bowed her head. Mick didn’t know what to say. Kelly’s pride in being a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had always been evident. He could imagine his feelings if he had to abandon his journalism career.

“Maybe in time you’ll feel differently.”

She turned away from him. “You don’t know how often I’ve heard those words—in time. Never from someone who’s gone through what I have, who’s done what I did. I killed a man. How could I go back to a job that required me to carry a gun?”

He didn’t know. He also sensed this was hardly the time to suggest an administrative position of some kind. Kelly pleaded a strong case. But unwittingly she’d raised a major obstacle to her plan.

“Okay, Kelly. Say you leave the force forever when this is finally finished. How will Billy and Amanda feel about being raised by the woman who shot their father?”

Never mind his position. Marrying the police officer who’d killed his brother. God, he was crazy even to consider the idea.

“They’re so young, Mick. Would they even understand what happened?”

How long is forever? “Not really,” he admitted.

“Besides, we can’t afford to worry about those problems right now. I’m concerned their physical safety is at risk.”