Big Sky Summer Part 15

Casey propped both elbows on the table's edge and buried her face in her hands with a weary groan.

"I hope you and Walker don't think those children are going to keep this to themselves," Opal went on, "because I might be the first person one of them told, but you can bet all those gold and platinum records you've rounded up that I won't be the last."

Opal was right, of course.

And it wasn't that Casey had expected Clare and Shane to pretend nothing had changed. She'd just been in so much emotional turmoil that she hadn't thought that far ahead, hadn't even considered that the community would inevitably find out and, after that, the media. Dear G.o.d, the media.

They'd have a field day, especially the tabloids, and Clare and Shane would be at the center of the scandal-through no fault of their own. And she'd been the one to bring it down on their innocent heads.

It was going to be awful, no two ways about it, and she might as well try to plug an erupting volcano with a wine cork as attempt to avert the red-hot lava of public scrutiny.

She needed to talk to Walker-come up with some kind of plan, though damage control was all they could hope for-and it had to happen now.

Casey scooted back her chair and made a beeline for the wall phone, only to find that Shane was already on one of the extensions. With Walker.

She broke right into the conversation, with all the subtlety of a stunt person somersaulting through a saloon window in an old Western movie. "Walker," she said. "We have to talk. Right now."

WE HAVE TO TALK. Right now.

After issuing her grand summons, Casey hadn't waited for an answer, she'd simply hung up the phone, hard.

Shane had been the first to recover from the shock. "This is bogus," he'd said angrily. "Mom just told me I could go to the next rodeo with you if it was okay with you, and now she's already going back on her word!"

"I don't think she was referring to the rodeo," Walker had told his son with grim resignation. "You tell her to hold on-I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Do I still get to go rodeoing with you?"

Walker had given a dry chuckle at that. The boy had plenty of stick-with-it going for him, that was for sure. "My answer is still yes," he'd replied. "But your mother has a say, too."

After that, they'd said their goodbyes and ended the call.

Walker, who'd been tagging calves' ears all morning with some of the ranch hands, was wearing at least one layer of good Montana dirt, so, once he'd snapped his cell phone shut, he took the time to shower and change before he hoisted Doolittle into the truck and started for Parable.

Casey was pacing the driveway when he pulled in, better than half an hour later, and she looked four parts p.i.s.sed off and one part scared out of her wits. If Clare and Shane were around, there was no sign of them, and the dog brigade wasn't in evidence, either.

Walker left Doolittle in the truck, got out and shut the door hard behind him.

"Where are the kids?" he asked, straight out, because, whatever Brylee or anybody else might think to the contrary, they were his first concern.

"Opal took them to the community center to swim in the pool," Casey answered, biting off the words. From her att.i.tude, an objective observer might have gotten the impression that this powwow had been his idea, and she'd rather be doing something else.

Walker swept off his hat, swatted it against his right thigh and jammed it right back onto his head. "There's no need to get testy!" he growled, making an effort to keep his voice down.

Casey folded her arms. "You took the words right out of my mouth," she said acidly.

Walker leaned in until their noses were almost touching, and d.a.m.n any neighbors who might be watching, fixing to carry the tale to every corner of the county. "What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" he demanded. "If I hadn't been talking to Shane when you came on the line, I'd have thought something had happened to him or Clare!"

The green fire blazing in Casey's eyes cooled off a little. "We have to get married," she said.

Walker narrowed his eyes, thinking he must have heard wrong. "What did you say?"

She turned on one heel and hauled b.u.t.t for the house, forcing him to follow.

"Dammit, Casey," he sputtered, furious because he had to tag after her like some schoolboy with his tongue hanging out. "Talk to me."

She waited until they'd reached the kitchen, then whirled on him, arms folded, feet so firmly planted that her heels might just leave dents in the floor.

"We have to get married," Casey repeated with elaborate enunciation, as though he was either deaf or didn't speak the language.

"I'll be d.a.m.ned," Walker muttered, taking off his hat and then, not knowing what to do with it, putting it on again. "You're pregnant? How can you know for sure, when it was only yesterday that the condom broke?"

Casey went white, then red again. "The condom broke?"

Walker sighed, and some of the fury seeped out of him. "I've got to change brands," he said.

That was when Casey laughed, though her eyes were still shooting green sparks and he knew he wasn't out of the figurative woods. Before he'd registered that she was amused, she turned again. "You weren't going to tell me?" she demanded.

He didn't have an answer.

And Casey didn't wait for one. "It'll be a marriage in name only, of course," she mused. "Just on paper."

Walker gaped for a moment, then rasped, "What?"

"We have to do this, Walker," Casey said, serious as a foreclosure notice now. "For Clare and Shane."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

STRANGE, CASEY THOUGHT WEARILY, how everything could change without anything really being different. Sitting alone in the same wooden swing where Clare had taken refuge, barely a week before, on the porch of the house at Timber Creek Ranch, she went over it all in her mind-again.

Walker had been understandably shocked by her proposal of marriage, but once she'd explained her reasoning, he'd grudgingly agreed. When the story broke, it would reach far beyond the borders of Parable County, and Clare and Shane would take the brunt of it, become the objects of tabloid headlines, the fodder for snide hosts on gossip TV, the prey of intrusive photographers and creeps who billed themselves as journalists.

A wedding wouldn't prevent that, of course, but both Casey and Walker were old-fashioned enough to believe that living under the same roof, as a family, would shelter their children from at least some of the fallout, and they couldn't live together without being legally married. Which was where the old-fashioned part came in.

So they'd quietly-very quietly-filed for a marriage license, not in Parable, the county seat, but in Missoula. Now the brief waiting period was over, and Opal's fiance, the good Reverend Beaumont, had agreed to perform a simple ceremony in the ranch house living room, with Brylee, the kids and Opal in attendance. The hands and their families would be there, of course, along with very close friends.

It wouldn't be the wedding every girl dreams of, Casey reflected philosophically, sitting there in her simple blue sheath and sandals, but white lace and organ music and a fancy cake hadn't been in the cards for her and Walker anyway. Too much water under the bridge, as the old saying went, trite only because it had been true for so long. Besides, this wasn't exactly a love match-they both loved their children, no doubt about it, but the sad fact was, she and Walker didn't get along anywhere but in bed.

And that, by tacit agreement, was a place they'd been steering clear of since the last time.

The screen door opened just then, and Clare came out of the kitchen, looking pretty in a green sundress, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders in lovely spirals. She hadn't forgiven Casey for the deception yet, or Walker, either, for that matter, but she'd stopped pouting, slamming doors and hiding out in her room, anyway.

Sitting on the opposite end of the swing from Casey, Clare smoothed her skirt, bit her lower lip and said her piece, probably after much rehearsal.

"I know you don't really want to marry Walker, Mom. This whole thing is a sham-it's damage control."

Unlike her brother, who was thrilled about the marriage and already called Walker "Dad," Clare had shown a definite lack of enthusiasm from the first, and when she spoke to her father, which wasn't often, she still addressed him by his first name.

"We're doing what we think is best," Casey said calmly.

Clare had the good grace not to throw the big lie in her face, and Casey dared to hope she and her daughter would find common ground again soon. "What if it doesn't work?" she asked. "I mean, you'll probably throw the media off the trail, mostly anyway, but suppose you and Walker find out you can't live together and end up getting divorced? What do you think that would do to Shane?"

Casey had asked herself all the same questions. It was true enough that the scandal, just now starting to break online and in a few of the tabloids, would flare up, marriage or no marriage. And, thank heaven, it would fade into oblivion when a juicier story came along.

The deeper scars would remain, though. After the media circus moved on and set up their tents somewhere else, Clare and Shane would still be wondering what their friends thought, what it all meant. Their confidence in Casey, always rock solid before, might never be the same again.

"Whatever happens in the future," she replied carefully, "it's right now that's important. You and Shane will be legitimate, whether Walker and I stay married or not."

"'Legitimate'?" Clare echoed. She wasn't scoffing, but there was a jaded note in her voice just the same. "Please, Mom. That's so Victorian. This is the twenty-first century, and lots of kids' mothers aren't married to their dads."

Casey bristled a little. "Maybe so," she replied, "but that doesn't make it an ideal situation, not by any stretch. Two-parent families might not be as common as they used to be, and G.o.d knows, they're not perfect, but they're worth having, Clare. They're worth holding on to, worth fighting for."

"Why now?" Clare persisted, sounding honestly puzzled. "After all this time, I mean? In a few years, Shane and I will be grown up and away at college. What will it matter then if you and Walker are married?"

"It matters," Casey insisted quietly. "Someday, I hope you'll understand why."

And I hope I'll understand, too. Parts of the decision were still a mystery to her, and she suspected it was the same for Walker.

A short silence fell. In the near distance, horses whinnied and bulls snorted, pawing the ground and kicking up dust in their st.u.r.dy pens. There was a certain peace in the rustic ordinariness of it all, and Casey clung to that, like a blind person clutching a fragile thread that might just lead her into the light, if she could just hold on.

Clare's next remark was a humdinger.

She stood up, sighed a worldly sigh and said, without a hint of sarcasm, "I'll bet the real reason you and Walker are getting married is because you have to. Are you going to have a baby, Mom?"

Casey stiffened as though her daughter had just flung a bucket of cold water on her, and not just because the question caught her off guard. She might well be pregnant, given her and Walker's track record-and the broken condom. Neither of which she intended to discuss with her fourteen-year-old daughter, thank you very much, either now or in the foreseeable future.

"Your mother," Casey told the girl evenly, "is marrying your father. For now, that's all you need to know."

Clare spread her hands in a gesture of helpless resignation.

A string of cars and pickup trucks slowed down on the county road, the first of them turning in at the main gate. The wedding guests were arriving. There weren't many of them, only their closest friends.

"If there is a baby," Clare said, very softly, and with a note of wistfulness that bruised Casey's heart, "he or she is one lucky kid to be born with both a mom and a dad, and grow up here, on this ranch." With that, Clare vanished into the house.

Casey stood, but only after a few moments had pa.s.sed and she was sure she could trust her wobbly knees to hold her up. At any other time, she would have caught up with Clare, tried to reach the girl with words or hugs-or something.

But, like it or not, that conversation would have to wait. There was a wedding in the offing, and the guests were here.

The various vehicles reached the top of the driveway, one by one, and people in dress clothes got out-Opal and the Reverend Walter Beaumont were the first, soon followed by Joslyn and Slade Barlow, Boone and Tara Taylor and Hutch and Kendra Carmody. Patsy McCullough brought up the rear, at the wheel of a specially equipped van, her son Dawson riding with her.

Only Hutch looked uncomfortable, and that wasn't surprising, considering that Timber Creek Ranch was Brylee's home as well as Walker's. Hutch and Brylee had come within an I-do of getting married themselves, a couple of years before, and accounts of the interrupted ceremony still surfaced occasionally, when there was a lack of fresh gossip.

Brylee was inside somewhere, probably as nervous as Hutch, but this was one wedding she wouldn't dodge, since the groom was her brother.

Casey welcomed everyone with a smile and a hug, especially Joslyn and Tara and Kendra, her closest friends, while Slade and Hutch stayed behind to help Patsy with Dawson and his wheelchair.

"When's that baby coming?" Casey asked Joslyn in a whisper after the crowd had come inside the house and moved on toward the living room, where the ceremony was to be held. Kendra lingered with them, smiling.

Joslyn sighed happily, resting her hands on her enormous belly. "Babies," she corrected, sotto voce. "We're having twins. Both boys."

Casey hugged her again. "That's great!"

Joslyn nodded, beaming.

"Are you ready to get married?" Kendra asked Casey, looking as pleased as if this wedding were the real deal, instead of a public-relations move and a too-little, too-late attempt to set a few things right.

"About as ready as I'm ever going to be, I guess," Casey responded. Very few people knew the truth, but Joslyn, Kendra and Tara were among them, and not one of them had tried to talk her out of it. In fact, they actually seemed happy for her and Walker.

They were so certain things would work out. Casey herself, not so much. All she could do was try her hardest, dig in her heels and refuse to give up.

"What about a honeymoon?" Joslyn asked.

Casey kept her expression bland, because there were some things she wasn't ready to reveal, even to her best friends. Such as, there wasn't going to be a wedding night, let alone a honeymoon. "That's a secret," she said mysteriously.

Joslyn and Kendra exchanged glances, then proceeded into the living room, to seat themselves on rented folding chairs. Their husbands soon joined them.

Casey waited in the kitchen, wringing her hands a little, until Shane was beside her. Handsome in his best suit, which he was about to grow out of, he jutted out an elbow. "Showtime, Mom," he whispered, grinning. "Ready to be given away?"

A lump formed in Casey's throat. She smiled and brushed a lock of hair back from Shane's forehead, a gesture he normally wouldn't have appreciated. "Ready," she managed.

Shane escorted his mother out of the kitchen, through the formal dining area and into the wide, arched doorway leading to the living room, where they stopped.

Walker and Reverend Beaumont stood in front of the flower-festooned fireplace, Walker looking dazed, the minister all smiles.

The folding chairs were filled, and Opal had taken her place at the piano, her fingers poised to play the customary processional.

A hush fell over the gathering, and Joslyn, Kendra and Tara all turned in their seats simultaneously and gave Casey a perfectly synchronized thumbs-up.

Brylee, the only bridesmaid, stood up front, a little to the minster's right, smiling encouragement at Casey and Shane.

Careful not to look too closely at Walker-no getting around it, he was one handsome hunk of cowboy-Casey swept one last glance around the room, her heart pounding a little, looking for Clare, praying her daughter hadn't decided to hide out somewhere until the "sham" was over.

But Clare was made of better stuff than that. Whatever her misgivings, she walked, head high, into the living room through another archway, and stood next to Opal, by the baby grand piano. Tears stung the backs of Casey's eyes as she realized the implications of that.

Clare, who never sang in public, was going to sing today. It was her gift to Casey and to Walker.

Opal began to play.

Casey froze, and Shane had to give her a little tug to get her moving, between the rows of folding chairs and up to Walker's side.

Walker looked down at Casey, his eyes shining, and the smallest smile crooked the corner of his mouth.