Charlie’s car was gone, she noticed when she glanced out the window, but Ben’s pickup was still in the driveway. No doubt she had an uncomfortable discussion waiting for her.
Annie showered quickly and dressed in jeans and an old beige sweatshirt. To bolster her spirits she pulled on yellow socks—yellow turned up on high, a blindingly cheerful color she hoped would give her a visual punch of optimism whenever she glanced at her feet. Then she gritted her teeth and went downstairs.
Her big brother sat at the kitchen table, scowling at his coffee.
Ben was the oldest, the largest and the darkest of her brothers, both in appearance and outlook. He was a seriously stubborn man with a passion for the outdoors, a quick temper and a huge heart. Some people were intimidated by him. Many underestimated him, thinking a man as big and gruff as he was had to be all brawn and no brain.
Annie knew better. She mentally girded up her loins for battle and stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said brightly, heading for the coffeepot. “Why aren’t you down at the yard making your secretary’s life miserable, or out browbeating a flunky or two at one of the sites? It’s nearly eight o’clock.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Maybe you could yell at me instead. It usually makes you feel better.” Ben’s temper didn’t bother her. His brooding did. It meant he was blaming himself for something.
“You’re not having breakfast?” he said when she sat down across from him.
She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”
He studied her over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. “One of my crew on the Baker job called in sick. If you’re not already booked up, I could use you. I want to get the drywall finished today.”
Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? “Sure,” she said, relieved, though hanging Sheetrock was one of her least favorite construction jobs. The only one she liked less was laying insulation. She always itched for days after handling that, no matter how careful she was. With Sheetrock she just sneezed a lot from the dust.
“All right, then.” He set his cup down, squaring his shoulders as if he were about to heft some unpleasant burden. “Annie, I think you should move out.”
Hurt jolted through her. Her hand jerked, and coffee spilled. “I—I thought things were working out okay, but if there’s a problem…” Her voice twisted into silence before she could get control of it. “If that’s what you want, then, sure. I’ll move out. It may take me a little while to find a place…you know what that’s like around here, especially with skiing season coming up, but—”
“Hold on. I didn’t mean it that way. The house is yours as much as it’s mine. Hell, I’m not doing this right.” He scowled. It was the expression Ben used for almost any strong emotion. “I’ve been selfish. I like having you around, but it isn’t right. You should be living your own life.”
“But I am! Maybe you try to interfere with that from time to time, but I don’t let you. So there’s no problem.”
He shook his head. “You’re married, but you’re living at home with your brothers. That doesn’t sound to me like living your own life.”
Uh-oh. She’d bumped into one of Ben’s walls. He was usually fairly reasonable in a pigheaded sort of way, but there were a few subjects on which he was stone-hard, granite-solid. Rigid, in other words.
Marriage was one of them. “I realize my situation is unusual, Ben, but this marriage isn’t—” Real, she almost said, but she remembered the way Jack had reacted when she’d said that yesterday. “This isn’t exactly a normal marriage. We haven’t lived together. We haven’t…” No, she didn’t want to tell him what else she and Jack hadn’t done. “It’s complicated.”
“Either you’re married or you aren’t. If you are, your place is with your husband.”
That had certainly been what their mother had believed. She’d followed her husband all over the world, leaving her children with their grandmother—until she’d left them in the most permanent way possible. Annie’s mouth tightened. “This isn’t the nineteenth century, and even you aren’t that black-and-white. There are all sorts of reasons that a woman might not stay with her husband…infidelity, cruelty, abandonment—”
Ben’s hand fisted on the table. “If he’s hit you—”
“No. Oh, no! I didn’t mean that! Good grief, Ben, you know Jack. You might not like him, but you know he would never hit me. Or any other woman.”
“Was he unfaithful?”
She opened her mouth—then closed it again. She had no idea. It was something she’d tried not to think about. Logically she knew that if Jack hadn’t been faithful to their hasty, unconsummated marriage, she couldn’t blame him. All they had really shared was a few kisses and some impulsive promises spoken in front of an Elvis impersonator. But she felt absolutely wild at the thought of Jack being with another woman.
Annie licked her lips and answered with careful honesty. “Not as far as I know.”
“Then you should be with him. Not here.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I don’t dislike Jack. It may take me a while to get used to the idea of having him as a brother-in-law, but I don’t dislike him.”
“You hit the ceiling yesterday when you heard he was in town.”
“That was a knee-jerk reaction. I thought you were keeping something from me the way you used to when you and Jack and Charlie were up to something.” His eyebrows drew down. “As it turned out, I was right.”
The ringing of the doorbell was a welcome interruption. “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, pushing her chair back and standing.
“Wait a minute.” Ben’s hand clamped around her wrist. “You should know that I’m going to send a notice to the paper today, announcing your marriage.”
“You’re what?”
“You heard me.”
“It isn’t up to you to make a decision like that!”
“Now that I know that you’re married, it would be lying for me to pretend otherwise. I don’t like lies. A notice to the paper is the simplest way to handle things.”
“It must be nice to be so perfect,” she said bitterly. “So sure of yourself and what’s right.”
“I’m not sure of much this morning. Obviously I made some major mistakes when you were younger, if you didn’t think you could tell me that you’d gotten married.”
More than lectures, more than scowls or yelling, she hated it when Ben started blaming himself for her mistakes. That was one of the reasons she hated making mistakes so much.
The doorbell rang again. She jerked her hand free, hurried through the living room to the front door, flung it open…and groaned.
Jack’s grin came slow and packed with wicked suggestions. “Good morning.”
She slammed the door shut.
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