Mr. And Mrs. Wrong. Fay Robinson
“Oh, there you go again, trying to charm me out of my pants.”
He grinned with devilment.
She really should scold him, but Lord, he was cute when he was playful like this. And that smile… Seeing it always made her fall in love with him all over again.
“Stop worrying so much,” he suggested. “I promise you things will be better. I’ll even give more thought to marriage counseling if that’ll ease your mind. Okay?”
That lightened her mood considerably. “Okay.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. Now, I think what we both need more than anything is to celebrate our news. We could go out, but you look tired, so you head on home and I’ll stop at the grocery store when I get off. You can put your feet up and I’ll come over and cook.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I can’t. I’m not through working and I have an assignment tonight.”
“Lucky, you were out before six o’clock this morning.”
“And I’ve been up since four, but I’m committed to taking photos at the Lions’ Club dinner. I won’t be home until after ten. I plan to hit the mattress one minute later.”
“You don’t need to be working those kinds of hours.”
“I agree and I’d rather spend tonight with you, but I promised Leigh and it’s too late to back out. How about we celebrate tomorrow? I’m off the next two days and I told her I absolutely wouldn’t work unless the town started to burn. Which, with the way my luck usually runs, is a possibility, so don’t light any matches.”
“I need to come in for a few hours in the morning and work on this Bagwell case—try to clear up some loose ends—but I should be through by lunch. We can do it after that.”
“I thought the death was a simple accident.”
“It probably is.”
“Probably?” She cocked her head. “Did you find something suspicious?”
“No, nothing unusual.”
“Then why do you still have loose ends? I figured this would be a down-and-dirty investigation.”
He gave her that look, the one that said she knew better than to ask.
“Oh, come on, Jack. I found the guy.”
“That doesn’t mean he belongs to you.”
“I know, but I feel somehow responsible for him. I want to follow through with this.”
“That’s my job. I don’t want you sniffing around in any more of my cases. Understood? I worry enough about you as it is. Don’t make things harder on me.”
“But maybe I can help. I know people you don’t. And his daughter, Carolyn, went to school with Shannon. I bet she’d talk to me.”
“I’ve already talked to her.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing you need to know. About tomorrow…maybe we should make it a family celebration. Have you told your parents about the baby?”
Reluctantly she allowed him to change the subject. “Not yet.”
“Then we’ll get them and your grandmother out to your place and share the news. Ask Leigh to come, and call and see if Shannon and Bill are free. I’ll get Cal to help me move my stuff, and then I’ll grill hamburgers for everyone.”
Lucky’s heart sank. “You’re moving back in?”
“Well…yeah, unless you want to reconsider moving to the apartment.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then I guess I’m moving back in.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We’d better keep things the way they are and not make any drastic changes. Let’s ease back into living together.”
“Wait a minute, what gives? Five minutes ago you wanted me to come home.”
“And five minutes ago you said no because you weren’t ready. Jack, I do want you home, more than anything on earth, but for the right reason. Let’s not jump from one mistake into an even bigger one.”
“I can’t think of any better reason than having a baby.”
“How about…you love your wife and want to be with her?”
“That, too.”
“Please be sure. This is such a major decision.”
“I am sure. Look…I can’t pretend I’m thrilled about living in that cramped cabin again, but if that’s what it takes to be with you during this pregnancy, then I’ll manage until we can come up with a solution. I’ve lived in worse places.”
“When you stayed with your cousin?”
“Who?”
“Your cousin. You said last night that you lived in the back of your cousin’s store while you worked for him.”
“Oh, yeah, I stayed there for a while after high school. It was pretty awful. No shower. No kitchen.”
She frowned. Hadn’t he said it’d been after his parents died? He’d been sixteen, not out of high school. And the way he’d told it before…he’d gone into the army right out of school.
An uneasiness settled over her, the same uneasiness she felt each time his past came up. Nothing he said about his early years ever seemed to mesh. But why?
CHAPTER FOUR
ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Lucky guided her small fishing boat into an isolated slough, turned off the motor and let it drift. Dusk was when she was most likely to see the panthers she’d been watching the past several weeks, but she hoped at least one would appear earlier.
She took a drink from her water bottle and wiped off the sweat that had formed under the brim of her Kiss A Bug cap. Jack and Cal were probably at the cabin by now, moving Jack’s clothes. The rest of her family would arrive soon.
Looking back, she couldn’t remember ever telling Jack he could move back in, but discussing it with him wasn’t worth the stress that would undoubtedly create. Peace and calm were what she and the baby needed right now, and the river provided it. She always felt better after a few hours with her old friend.
Most people only saw the main body of the Black Warrior and its headwaters, the Locust, Mulberry and Sipsey rivers, but its heart lay in places like this, the hidden ones, where the water seemed bottomless and the adjoining land appeared virtually untouched since prehistoric times.
The area wasn’t completely virgin, but she liked to think it was. Settlers, her ancestors among them, had planted cotton and corn in the low areas, harvested trees from the forests and dug coal from the banks and shoals. Before them, the Creek and Choctaw Indians inhabited these lands, and the river, or Apotaka Hache as the Choctaw called it, had been a border between the nations.
Before the modern Indians, the land was home to mound-building people in whose culture women, fertility and the river all played major roles. Lucky sometimes dug up their flint points or pottery shards when she planted her small garden.
She’d explored extensively the river and its forks, but it would take several lifetimes to see everything. The state, federal government and the University of Alabama all owned thousands of acres of trees and swampland she’d never walked. Probably few had in modern times. A surveyor or two, perhaps, or an occasional logger or pulpwood harvester.
This was her home, but more than that, it was a vital part of who she was. Take her outside the county and nothing about her was special. But here, on the river, she could name each insect, fish and bird. Here, she felt connected to