Loves Me, Loves Me Knot

Purl 8

When Jenna heard the low growl of an engine, she was in the barn, filling feed troughs and bowls with grain. At the moment, her aunt’s alpacas were still out in the pasture grazing, but before nightfall, she’d be bringing them in, and they needed to have fresh food, water, and hay in each of their stalls.

Aunt Charlotte would never forgive her if she dropped the ball in taking care of her little sweethearts, no matter how distracted Jenna might be with other things.

Which was why she didn’t think twice about a vehicle passing by the house. The dirt road running past Charlotte ’s farm didn’t get a lot of traffic, but the occasional car or truck did rattle by on its way here or there.

And right now, she had much more important things on her mind. Baby names and colors for the nursery.

Oh, she knew it was premature to be thinking about that sort of thing already. She’d only finished having sex twelve hours ago; there was no way she could know for sure whether she was pregnant or not.

But she was hopeful. So very, very hopeful.

The fight with Gage that morning had definitely shaken her, but it hadn’t exactly been unexpected. She’d known how he would react once he became cognizant enough to realize what she’d done-and why.

It hadn’t been noble of her in the least, that she could fully admit. In some ways, though, it had been necessary-at least to her.

She was lucky, too, that she knew Gage so well. He was furious with her, yes, and he would likely take out his anger and frustration at the gym, pumping iron and pounding a punching bag until his already impressive guns grew even bigger and harder. And he would probably drink a little-a few beers at home in front of the TV and then a few more later, once Zack and Dylan got back into town and could help him commiserate about the deceptive nature of women in general and his ex-wife in particular.

Jenna wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d caused Gage that kind of stress and displeasure, but she was still grateful that he was who he was. Because any other man might have chosen to react with physical violence or by taking legal action.

Despite all of that, however, soon after Gage had stormed out, she’d caught herself humming and then realized that she was also smiling… and she hadn’t stopped since.

She was humming every lullaby she knew, one after another. Her hands continually drifted to her abdomen as she wondered if she really might be pregnant at this very moment, and she kept trying to decide if she should do the baby’s room in Sesame Street or adorable jungle animals.

There were so many things to consider. Did she want to know the baby’s gender before he or she was born, or did she prefer to be surprised? Did she want to do a nursery in standard boy (blue) or girl (pink) colors, or should she go with something more general, like green or yellow?

It was frightening, but it was also exhilarating, and she couldn’t wait. She just couldn’t wait to find out if she was or wasn’t… and she prayed to God she was.

Finishing up in the barn, she wiped her hands on the seat of her pants and turned for the open barn door. The car-or truck or whatever-was still out there, she noticed. Rather than passing by, it seemed to have stopped, idling near the house.

Jenna frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and people didn’t usually drop by her aunt’s for no reason. And if it was someone she did know-like Charlotte or Grace and Ronnie-that would mean their plans had been ruined and they’d been forced to return sooner than anticipated.

Leaving the barn, she headed for the house, but couldn’t see the driveway until she’d rounded a small tool shed between the two larger buildings. When she did, when the driveway and the big chrome-and-black Harley-Davidson Low Rider sitting there came into view, she froze.

Her arms fell to her sides and her feet refused to budge. Deep in her chest, her heart began a staccato thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, sending blood pounding through every part of her body except her brain. That remained surprisingly inactive and empty of coherent thought.

Gage, who continued to balance the bike while it throbbed beneath him, pinned her with a cold glare, then cut the engine, kicked out the stand, and swung off. He set his helmet on the black leather seat before collecting a large army-green duffel bag that had been fastened behind him, and started toward the house.

The entire time, he barely took his gaze off of her. Halfway across the yard, he stopped, cocked his head, and said, “You coming in?”

Jenna blinked, waiting for the world to right itself and once again begin to make sense.

What was he doing here? Where was he going? Why did he have a duffel with him? Why was he headed for the house?

Why couldn’t she seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs or reduce the beat of her heart to something slower than a hummingbird’s?

Without waiting for a response, he continued onto the porch and through the front door. And finally, almost as though a firecracker had gone off behind her, Jenna jerked, regained control of her limbs, and took off after him.

Screen door banging shut behind her, she raced into the house, only to find the dining room and kitchen empty. She checked the living room. No one there.

There was only one place left where he could be.

Upstairs.

Taking the steps two at a time, she rounded the newel post and started glancing into open doorways.

She found him at the end of the hall, in her room. The same room where they’d spent last night.

His duffel was on the unmade bed and he was systematically pulling items out, placing them on the nightstand or in the single dresser alongside her own clothes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, slightly out of breath not from running up the stairs after him, but from the mild panic that was beginning to funnel like a tornado low in her belly and spiral outward to every other organ.

Gage didn’t bother to glance up. “Unpacking.”

“Why?”

He still wouldn’t look at her. “It’s what folks tend to do when they move into a new place.”

Feeling as though she’d been sucked into an alternate reality, Jenna stood staring dumbly at him. She blinked, but each time she opened her eyes, he was still there, and she could have sworn there was a buzzing growing in her ears.

Fainting would be good. If she could just hyperventilate a little harder, if the lightheadedness could just come on a bit stronger, then she might pass out. And when she came to… When she came to, Gage would be gone, she would be back on planet Earth, and everything would be all right again.

But she didn’t lose consciousness, and this didn’t seem to be a figment of her over-stimulated imagination. Gage remained standing before her, acting for all the world like an invited guest.

Swallowing hard, she found her voice and said, “You’re not moving in here. Are you?”

She still felt like she was drowning, and simply could not make sense of what was going on around her.

“Damn straight.” He lifted his head then, his coffee-brown eyes drilling into hers. “Got a problem with that?”

“Yes!” she blurted, her hands going to her hips. She had a million-billion-gazillion problems with that, starting with the fact that she didn’t want him there and ending with a rather unpleasant mental image of him trying to strangle her to death at some point… or perhaps her doing something similar to him.

“Tough shit.” He scooped up a medium-sized brown paper sack lying next to his duffel on the mattress, his fingers tightening on the package until his knuckles turned white. “You started this by tying me to the bed and forcing me to knock you up against my will. So until we know for sure whether you are or not, you’re stuck with me.”

The bag crinkled as he opened the top and reached in, then a small, light-colored box came flying at her. She cringed, but caught it as it arced past her waist on its way to the floor.

“Go take that,” he ordered.

She glanced down and saw that he’d tossed her an over-the-counter pregnancy test. One that promised one-hundred-percent accuracy.

“I’m not going to take this,” she told him, tossing it right back.

“Yes, you are,” he shot back through clenched teeth. “If I have to tie you up this time, you will take that test.”

“Read the instructions, you big jerk. It’s too soon to know anything, and if I pee on that stick, all you’ll end up with is a wet stick.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, though he looked none too pleased that he hadn’t gotten his way. “Then you’ll take it later, but you will take it.”

She wanted to continue arguing. She really, really did. But when Gage got it into his head that he wanted something or something needed to be done, he became more stubborn than a Brahman bull. She’d be better off fighting with a brick wall.

She’d learned that the hard way nearly two years ago, hadn’t she?

Squaring her shoulders, she said, “If I’m pregnant, it’s nobody’s business but my own. But if you’d like to know, I’ll be happy to tell you-later, in a month or two, when I’m sure. Perhaps over the phone or through a registered letter.”

Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have added that last part. Not only was it snide, but it caused a muscle to jump in Gage’s jaw, just below cheeks that were turning red with his rising fury.

For several long seconds, he didn’t respond. Then he shook his head and blew air through his nose in what might have loosely been construed as a humorless half-laugh.

“You always could piss me off faster than anyone else,” he muttered, almost as though he wasn’t even talking to her, but himself.

Then he straightened and fixed her with another of his hard, razor-sharp glares. “You started this, Jenna-you and your friends with your devious little plan. You wanted me to get you pregnant, and I may very well have done just that. But if you think I’m going to walk away and leave you alone now, you’re crazier than your aunt Charlotte, Grace, and Ronnie all rolled into one.”

“They’re not crazy,” she defended.

He arched a brow. “No? Do you know of any other sane person who would come up with the idea to drug a man and tie him to the bed until he unwittingly fathered a child with his ex-wife?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Jenna muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t know there was something to complain about. Somebody forgot to give me a copy of the game plan ahead of time.”

Jenna bit back her annoyance and any further reply she might have made because he did, after all, have a point. A small one, anyway.

“So what are you going to do?” she challenged, cocking a hip and raising a dark brow of her own. “Hold me hostage here until I agree to pee on your little plastic stick?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in the mockery of a smile that could only be called unfriendly and determined. “Bingo, sweetheart. You got it in one.”

Gage’s remark was rewarded with the blood draining from Jenna’s face and her arms falling limply to her sides. Her jaw dropped so fast, he was surprised it didn’t hit the floor.

Good. Maybe now she’d have a clue how he’d felt when he’d been hit by the bombshell of knowing she’d lured him to her aunt’s house under false pretenses, then used him to get her pregnant when that’s the last thing he ever would have wanted or agreed to.

But even though being a father wasn’t something he would have signed up for given a choice, if she was pregnant, if there was a child involved now, then there was no way he could ignore it. Jenna might have thought she could use him as a stud and nothing more, but Gage didn’t have it in him to walk away from his child. Wanted or not, planned or not, if he’d contributed his DNA to another human being, then he was in it for the long haul.

It might not come to that, but until he knew for sure… Well, he planned to stick to Jenna like superglue.

“You can’t stay here,” Jenna insisted when she finally found her tongue.

He raised a brow and almost, almost grinned. “Oh, yeah? Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to,” she blurted. “Because we could barely tolerate living together the last few months of our marriage, and I can’t imagine trying to do it again now will be any better. Because you’re simply not welcome. Get out.”

She took a step to the side and pointed out the open bedroom door, as though that alone would be enough to send him scuttling.

He bit back a snort. “I don’t think so. Until I know for certain whether or not I’m going to be a father, you’re stuck with me.”

She looked like she was about to toss out another of her trivial demands that would bounce off of him like bullets off Superman, so he held up a hand and said, “Give it up, Jenna, you’re not going to win this one. I’m staying. And if it turns out you are pregnant, then I’ll be sticking around a hell of a lot longer than just a few days or a few weeks. I won’t abandon my child or leave him to be raised without a father or by another man.”

The very thought sent his blood pressure rising, and it took a second before he could continue.

“Consider yourself lucky,” he told her, turning back to his duffel to dig through the few items left inside. “I could be pressing charges against you and your little cohorts for what you did. Instead, I’m just going to be a thorn in your side for a while.”

A very long while, if she really was pregnant-something even he wasn’t particularly looking forward to.

“Fine,” she clipped out, her chin setting into a mulish slant, “you can stay. Just… stay away from me.”

With that, she spun on her heel and marched down the hall.

Gage didn’t laugh. Not out loud, anyway. He didn’t want to ruin his ex-wife’s proud exit or start another verbal battle she had no chance of winning.

She was wrong, though. He had no intention of staying away from her.

Palming the over-the-counter pregnancy test she’d tossed back at him and the paper sack that held several more exactly like it, he lined them up side by side on top of the dresser along the wall opposite the narrow bed.

A lead weight settled in his gut as he realized his fate rested on a tiny plastic wand and either the plus or minus sign that it would reveal. He knew how he’d feel if the tests turned up negative. Positive was a whole other matter.

The last few hours had been filled with so much anger and disbelief, he hadn’t really taken the time to consider how he’d feel if Jenna wound up pregnant. If he was forced into fatherhood.

It was easier to pretend everything would be okay. That in a week or two, this would all be nothing more than a bad memory, and both he and Jenna could go back to their regular lives, their neutral corners.

Now, he lowered himself to the lumpy old mattress of the twin-size bed and let the idea settle in and take root.

The rabbit died and Jenna was, indeed, expecting his child. The woman he used to love, the woman he’d vowed to honor and cherish till death did they part.

Yeah, that had worked out well, hadn’t it?

But still, he’d once had feelings for Jenna. Hell, he still had feelings for her. He was man enough to admit that, and to admit that if she hadn’t been the one to call it quits and walk out, they would probably still be married.

He’d been happy with her. Maybe not bounce-off-the-walls, every-day-is-a-parade delirious, but content.

Could things have been better between them?

Sure. He’d pulled the rug out from under her with that whole not-wanting-kids thing. He realized that. And he could have opened up more, explained himself, shared things about his job that might have helped her understand his change of heart.

He could have, but he also couldn’t. He’d loved her too much to unload on her about some of the things he’d seen and done as an undercover cop, working some of the ugliest cases in some of the seediest parts of the city.

In many ways, Jenna was an innocent. She walked around wearing rose-colored glasses, always smiling, always looking on the bright side, always thinking the best of everyone.

How could he share the gory details of what it was like to spend weeks living in a crack den? Or how it felt to sell drugs to school kids to keep up his cover. Or admit that even though it was against department policy, he’d taken the occasional hit of meth, cocaine, weed, and heroin to convince those around him that he was an addict or dealer, and to avoid having his brains blown out his ear.

And he could just imagine her reaction if he filled her in on the number of dead bodies he encountered on a regular basis. There were images in his own head-a bloated corpse pulled from the lake… a teenage overdose with the needle still stuck in her arm… a newborn baby tossed in a Dumpster in the dead of winter like just another piece of garbage.

It was enough to give anyone nightmares, and he’d be damned if he’d dump that on Jenna’s shoulders, expecting her to process the events of his job like he was some pencil-necked accountant with nothing more life-altering to report than a mathematical error in the books.

Gage sighed, letting his shoulders slope and his chin fall to his chest. He ran splayed fingers over his short hair that was just beginning to grow in after his last round of shaving it off.

What if she’d thought differently of him after he told her? he wondered.

As much as he hadn’t wanted to burden her with the knowledge of what his job truly entailed, he sometimes thought that was the real reason he’d closed down and refused to talk to her about anything more substantial than whose turn it was to do the dishes.

Better for her to pull away and feel neglected than to start thinking of him as a thug, a drug user, a man with questionable moral principles… someone other than the man she’d married.

And the part about not wanting kids…

If she knew what he’d seen, what he’d done, some of the situations he’d found himself in, it was possible she’d have reconsidered her feelings on that particular topic, too.

He knew Jenna, and he knew she wouldn’t have been able to handle some of the shit he’d seen or some of the possibilities of what could happen to a child in the cold, cruel environment in which they lived. Drugs. Alcohol. Mental, physical, and sexual abuse. Kidnapping. Rape. Murder.

There was a laundry list of horrible things children were exposed to these days, and he’d be damned if he’d bring one of his own into this world. It would be like tossing a guppy into a tank full of piranha and expecting it not only to survive, but to thrive.

But it doesn’t have to be that way, she would say. Gage could hear her voice as though she were standing right beside him, speaking into his ear. We’ll love our child. We’ll protect him from anything bad. Keep our baby safe from every ugly, nasty thing that might hurt him.

He gave a snort. Like that was possible. Unless they trapped their kids in a bubble and never let them out of their sight, there was no way a child could go through life without coming in contact with outside influences.

Bullying started as early as preschool. Drugs could creep in soon after. Molestation could happen anywhere, at any age. Peer pressure, petty larceny, low self-esteem that led to anorexia, bulimia, cutting…

It was enough to make a man willingly castrate himself. And how any woman could want to bear a child with those odds stacked against her, he had no idea. The shock was that Jenna and the rest of society didn’t see it that way.

But then, they hadn’t seen what he’d seen, had they?

No, he was right and he knew it. Which meant that if Jenna really did turn out to be pregnant, he was up shit creek without the proverbial paddle.

He would be forced to deal with impending fatherhood, deal with raising a baby in an environment no child should be subjected to. There was always house arrest and armed guards, he supposed. Maybe a tracking device embedded in the back of his or her neck.

Not a bad idea, and he knew where he could get one.

But he didn’t need to resort to CIA tactics right away, he thought, straightening on the bed. Pushing to his feet, he took a deep breath and made a conscious decision not to borrow trouble just yet.

He had time to figure out what to do if one of those tester sticks turned positive. And with any luck, it wouldn’t.

With a little luck-and maybe a few fervent prayers-this would turn out to be just a minor blip on his radar, and a lesson learned about accepting a cold beer late at night from an ex-wife with ulterior motives.