Sandra Steffen – Marriage by Contract Part 2 (страница 3)

Actually, Beth would have liked to hear Elena trying to explain things to Father Carlos. When the other woman was finished, perhaps she could explain what went on in the deepest recesses of her only son’s mind.

Holding her ground, Beth said, “I don’t want you to look back ten years from now and view this as your biggest mistake. I love Christopher, and I know I can be a good mother. I wouldn’t even consider this if I didn’t believe you’d be a good father, too. I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

“Give me an update here, Beth. Are you trying to convince me to marry you? Or to not marry you?”

She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a smile lurking around the edges of his mouth. The fact that there wasn’t made his questions even more pointed, and her answer more important. “I want you to do this for the right reasons.”

He reached for her hand, easily drawing her closer. “I know what I’m doing,” he said, his lips brushing hers.

In that moment before he kissed her, everything felt right, and oh, so true. She and Tony were going to be married. And they were going to adopt Christopher. It was as if everything she’d ever done, every heartache she’d ever experienced and endured, had led her to this point in time. It was almost as if it was all meant to be.

* * *

“Annie!”

The glance over her shoulder was a reflex action, as was her slide into an alley at the first glimpse of the police car on the next block. Annie knew without looking that whoever had called out hadn’t been talking to her. How could they be? She didn’t know a soul in Grand Springs except for Todd, and he’d left town months ago. And no one knew her. And really, she had no reason to fear a police officer. She’d done nothing wrong. Unless she counted running away from home more than a year ago when she was sixteen. The memory of the way her mother’s latest boyfriend had looked at her made her skin crawl even now. Running away had been necessary, and quite possibly the first smart thing she’d ever done. But it wouldn’t be the last. She had someone else to think about now. She had her baby. Her son.

She hadn’t intended to leave the hospital without a word shortly after Christopher’s birth, but she’d panicked. She’d had a lot of time to think since then. A lot of time to plan. She hadn’t seen Christopher in almost two weeks. She didn’t have a car, and hitchhiking was risky. She didn’t want to take any more risks than she had to. For once in her life, Annie Moore was going to do things right. That meant she had to take her time, she had to plan, and she had to prepare.

Air brakes hissed as a semi stopped at the corner, the diesel fumes mingling with the greasy smells coming from the fast food restaurants on the corner behind her. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but a glance at her watch told her that visiting hours were under way at the hospital. The halls would be congested with people, which meant that it would be easier for her to blend in. And it would be easier for her to see her baby without anyone noticing her presence. The last time she’d been to the hospital, the nurse on duty kept watching her, suspicion written all over her face. Annie didn’t understand it. It wasn’t as if there was a law against making sure her own baby was all right. She ached to hold him, but knew she’d have to wait a little while longer. For now, she would have to be content just to see him through the glass.

“Oh, Christopher,” she whispered. “I’m coming.”

Ignoring the emptiness in the pit of her stomach, she tucked her hair underneath a baseball cap and stepped out of the alley.

* * *

“How do I look?” Beth asked, gliding her hands over the pale blue fabric of her dress.

“You look beautiful, and very nervous, which serves you right for allowing the groom to see you before the wedding. Have I taught you nothing about omens and bad luck?”

The soft jingle-jangle of Jenna’s bracelets was comforting, even if her words were clipped and her black eyes were flashing imperiously. Beth tucked her lower lip between her teeth and did her best to hide her smile from her best friend. “I’m not superstitious, remember?”

Jenna Maria Brigante swung around, the hem of her dark green skirt flouncing just above her ankles. Planting her hands on her hips, she sputtered in Romany. Beth crossed her arms and waited for Jenna to finish her tirade. Although she didn’t understand the words themselves, their meaning was universal.

They were in a small room at the top of the stairs in Vince and Elena Petrocelli’s house, waiting for the music to begin downstairs. Chairs were set up in the living room; white bows and fresh-cut flowers had been placed on end tables and shelves in every room on the first floor. Father Carlos had arrived a few minutes ago, which meant that the wedding would begin right on time.

Beth checked her reflection again, wondering if she should have worn her hair up, after all. No, she’d had a traditional wedding once. That time she’d done everything according to custom, wearing her mother’s lace, her grandmother’s pearls, even a penny in her shoe. This wedding would be as simple and true as the reason for its occurrence. For Christopher.

“Here,” Jenna said, pressing a tube of lipstick into Beth’s hand. “For someone who knows exactly what you’re doing and the exact reasons why you’re doing it, you’ve chewed off an awful lot of your lipstick.”

Leaning closer to the mirror, Beth reapplied the pink gloss. Jenna was right. She was nervous, but whether Jenna believed her or not, it had nothing to do with superstition. She’d been this way ever since Kitty Garcia had reported someone lurking around the nursery a few days ago. Beth had read articles about babies who had been stolen from hospitals, and it stood to reason that a baby who’d been abandoned would be a prime target. The thought of someone taking Christopher tore at her insides. Hospital security had been stepped up, but she wouldn’t rest easy until he was safe in her arms once and for all.

The beginning strains of music filtered up the stairs. “That’s our cue,” Jenna said. “Are you ready?”

Before Beth had finished nodding, Jenna tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and spun around. “All right, then. Let’s go. But watch your step. You might not believe in bad omens, but I’m superstitious enough for both of us.”

Beth took the single pink rose Jenna handed to her and slowly followed her friend. Whether it was luck or poise, she didn’t trip on the way down the stairs or falter as she placed her hand in the crook of her future husband’s elbow. She might have held her breath at the width of Tony’s shoulders beneath his dark suit and at the expression in his eyes. She ached just a little because she no longer believed in living happily ever after, but she could hardly blame that on luck, good or bad.

They strode to the front of the room, where Father Carlos was waiting. Side by side, she and Tony listened as the old priest began to read from his frayed book. She answered the questions with the appropriate responses, telling herself there was no reason for her heart to feel too large for her own chest. She was prepared to marry Anthony Joseph Petrocelli. She wasn’t, however, prepared to fall in love with him. Their marriage wasn’t going to last forever, anyway. Why, then, did she cross her fingers for luck moments before Father Carlos declared them husband and wife?

Raising her face for Tony’s kiss, she realized that she might have been the tiniest bit superstitious, after all.

* * *

Tony ran his finger between his neck and his shirt collar, even though it wasn’t really his collar that felt too tight. His eyes were trained on the newest member of the Petrocelli family. Beth was standing on the other side of the room, cornered by three of his four sisters. Her dress was a pale shade of blue and bespoke of a woman with good manners and exquisite taste. It fit her to perfection, stopping several inches above her cream-colored shoes. All in all, her entire outfit looked elegant. Her hair was another matter, waving past her shoulders, unruly and just enough out of control to entice a man to want to touch it, to harbor thoughts of taming it. He flexed his fingers at his side, wondering how much longer he had to wait before he and Beth could leave.

The wedding had come off without a hitch, unless he counted his mother’s and grandmother’s tears, the squabble between two of his brothers-in-law, a little spilled punch and the sour notes Gina had hit on the piano while Beth was descending the stairs before the ceremony began. It was strange, but the instant Beth’s eyes had met his, everything else had receded, until there was only her, and him, and the rousing jolt that went through him as he’d waited for her to place her hand in his.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Pulling his gaze from Beth, Tony reeled in his thoughts and glanced at the raven-haired woman standing next to him, watching him with eagle eyes. Oh, boy. Jenna Maria Brigante was all he needed.

She peered up at him, chin raised, hands on her hips, her gaze unwavering. A lot of people thought Tony was unobservant, but he wasn’t. He’d always kept to himself, that’s all—his feelings, his thoughts, especially his emotions. He was a private person, and he wasn’t comfortable with people traipsing through his thought processes, especially when the woman doing the wandering claimed she was a bona fide Gypsy.