Patricia Johns – The Runaway Bride (страница 5)

Lucille led the way into the house and Bernie followed, her dress dragging along the carpet behind her. The screen door banged shut behind them. The suitcase, which Liam had retrieved from the trunk of the Rolls, was still in the back of the pickup truck, and he idly wondered when Bernie was going to want to change out of that soiled wedding dress.

“Did you have a nice day?” Liam asked Ike. What would nice even be like for a two-year-old who’d lost his mother and was now with a bunch of strangers? He remembered what that had felt like when he was a kid in the foster system, and it hadn’t been warm and fuzzy.

Ike stared at him mutely, then leaned forward and rested his head against Liam’s shoulder, and the little body deflated in a long sigh.

“That bad, huh?” Liam murmured. He patted the boy’s back and followed Bernie into the kitchen where Lucille was pouring tall glasses of iced tea.

“So you’re my aunt, then?” Bernie asked, accepting a glass.

“I am.” Lucille held up a glass toward Liam, and he shook his head. She put it onto the table, paused, then turned to him. “I didn’t lie... I just didn’t mention my family. They cut me off. I have no access to their fortune or their influence. I had to start fresh. Alone.”

Liam nodded slowly. Except that for the entire time he’d been nursing his heartbreak over Leanne’s affair, she’d never once even hinted that the Senator Morgan who stole his wife was part of her family. She’d acted as cool as anyone else—a distanced stranger from that set of powerful politicos in New York.

“It wasn’t a lie,” she repeated.

“Okay.” What else could he say? She’d certainly not told the whole truth, though.

“And what brings you to Runt River?” Lucille asked her niece. “I mean, besides the obvious run out on your wedding.”

“You.”

Bernie plucked at the veil affixed atop her head, and Lucille stepped closer and began pulling out pins and clips, dropping them onto the tabletop in a small pile.

“I had no idea you even knew I was here.” Lucille dropped another couple of pins onto the table and pulled the last of the veil away from Bernadette’s hair. Bernie ran a hand through her dark tresses as if in relief.

“You’re the only Morgan not at the wedding.” Bernie smiled wanly. “So really, you were my last hope...dressed like this, at least. I was just focused on getting out of there, and I didn’t even want to stop and get changed. Someone would have spotted me. I could have hopped on a plane and gone somewhere sunny, I guess, but not without my passport. And I wanted—”

“Family,” Lucille concluded.

“Yes.”

“And little Ike there had nothing to do with this?” Lucille asked, her expression hardening.

“What?” Bernie shot a confused look between them. “The boy? Why would he? Whose is he?”

“Mine, for the time being,” Liam said. How much did they want to tell this woman about his private business? Ike was looking at Bernie fixedly now, leaning toward her so that Liam had to tighten his grip to keep the kid from dropping out of his arms. He knew what Ike was seeing—a woman about his mother’s age with the same dark hair and flawless complexion. The same things that made Liam wary were comforting to this little guy.

“Leanne Wilson,” Lucille said. Bernie didn’t even flinch.

“Who is that?”

“My late wife,” Liam replied.

“Ah.” Bernie frowned. “You two are acting like the name should mean something to me.”

“Doesn’t it?” Lucille pressed.

“No.” She shook her head. “I came here because I thought you, of all people, might actually understand what I was going through. I just walked away from the political marriage of the decade. I thwarted my parents’ plans that go a whole lot further than a simple wedding. There aren’t a lot of people who would understand what that means, and since you’ve gone head-to-head with my dad, I thought you’d get it. Maybe I made a mistake.” She licked her lips. “Liam, if you’d be so kind as to take me to a hotel or something, I’ll sort myself out.”

“No, no...” Lucille sighed. “You’ll stay here with me, of course.”

Ike squirmed, and Liam set him down on the ground. He toddled straight to Bernie and looked up at her. Bernie’s face softened into a smile.

“Hi there, little guy. What’s your name?”

“Share?” Ike held up the sodden cracker.

“Mmm.” She pretended to take a bite. “Yummy.”

That seemed to be the response that Ike was looking for, because he grinned and shoved his cracker toward her again.

“Share?”

Ike had smiled—not just a hint of a one, a real smile. Liam wasn’t going to cut it, was he? This kid needed a mom who knew how to play his games, how to coax an honest smile out of him. He’d had Ike for a month already, and he still hadn’t managed that.

“What’s his name?” she repeated, looking up at Liam, her expression still softened by her game with Ike. She was beautiful, and he was irritated to be noticing that right now.

“This is Ike,” Liam said. “I’m his legal guardian.”

“Oh.” She frowned, seeming to be adding it all up. “So, he’s your late wife’s son...”

“We were estranged,” Liam said. “She moved out three years ago, so Ike is hers...and no, I’m not the dad.”

“So it’s complicated, then,” she confirmed.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Do you know who his father is?” she asked, running a hand through the boy’s hair. Ike leaned his head into her hand.

“Yep,” Liam said. He wasn’t ready to get into that with Bernadette. The last thing they needed was a posse of lawyers from New York descending upon them. What Liam needed was some time and space to keep thinking. Lucille followed his lead and remained silent.

Color rose in Bernadette’s face, and she shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. He’s a sweetie.” She paused, then looked at Ike a little closer. “Did you say Leanne Wilson?”

Liam suppressed a sigh. This was what he’d been waiting for—for her to connect the dots.

“That’s right,” he said.

“I’d hate to suggest something untoward—” She winced. “There was a woman caught up in a scandal with my cousin Vince.”

“That would be her,” Liam said. Leanne had stayed out of the news, but the couple of times that Liam had talked to her, she’d mentioned how hard it was to have her silence purchased. The lawyers had swarmed her, and she’d been worried about all the papers she’d signed.

“So Ike—” Bernie looked down at the toddler more pointedly. “Ike is Vince’s son?”

Liam didn’t need to answer, because when she looked up and met his gaze, she heaved a sigh.

“Obviously, Vince didn’t acknowledge him,” she surmised. “And he wouldn’t.”

“Has he done this before?” Liam asked. “Get a woman pregnant and pay her to keep her mouth shut?”

Bernie shot him a tight smile. Liam had doubted that she’d admit to any of that. Senators had to keep big secrets if they wanted to stay in their jobs. They were all silent for a few beats.

“I think I’d count as an aunt, then, wouldn’t I? Sort of...” She ruffled Ike’s hair. “I’m technically a second cousin, but I think he could call me Auntie.”

Liam exchanged a look with Lucille. This was quickly getting into dangerous territory. He didn’t know what he wanted to do exactly, but he didn’t want a Morgan bonding with Ike, getting attached.

“We’d appreciate it if you could be discreet,” Liam said.

“What do you want?” Bernie asked. “Money? For Vince to acknowledge Ike as his?”

Money? That was what she thought of when she saw an orphaned child? But then, she came from a different world. He was worried about keeping the kid out of the foster system. She seemed more worried about lawsuits.

“I don’t need anyone’s money,” Liam retorted. “Nor do I want it. I’m doing just fine. But I’d like a bit of time to think this through. I want what’s best for the kid. I have no intention of making anyone acknowledge him if they don’t want to.”

In fact, he hadn’t even considered that option. That would make little Ike nothing more than a pawn. The boy needed a family to raise him with love, not to treat him like a problem to be solved, a political liability. The kid needed a childhood—sprinklers in summer, sleds in winter, maybe even a dog—not to be known as a politician’s illegitimate child.

“Sorry...” She sighed. “I get this is difficult.”

“You have no idea,” Liam muttered.

“Well, we all seem to want the same thing,” she said. “A bit of quiet so that we can think.” Ike tugged at Bernie’s dress, and she picked him up and cuddled him close. “I just ran out on the wedding of the century, and my family is furious. You’ve got this little guy to consider. So maybe we can agree to discretion all round.”

“Deal,” Liam said.

Could he trust her? He didn’t have a whole lot of choice, but of one thing he was certain: Ike needed to come first. If that meant he ended up with his relatives, or if he stayed with Liam, the priority had to be what was best for this little boy.

He’s not yours, Liam reminded himself. But without Leanne, this boy needed someone tough enough to look out for his interests, and Liam would be that person. There was no way he was tossing this kid into the foster system or into a family of political jackals. Even if Bernie seemed sweet right now, he wasn’t fooled. She came from a different world than he did, where the Morgans were near the top of the food chain, and ordinary Joes like him were nothing more than scenery.