Dance Away with Me(78)

“Not from Heather. The Dennings probably mentioned it to Fiona Lester at the Purple Periwinkle. Fiona has a reputation as the town gossip. One of many gossips, I might add.”

“People need to mind their own damned business.”

“Small towns don’t seem to work that way.”

*

She tried to make up for the missing doughnuts by baking a chocolate sheet cake while Wren dozed in the sling. After she put the cake in the oven, she went outside to dig in the garden and try to work up some enthusiasm for job hunting. The idea was so depressing that she lost track of time, and when she returned to the house, she was greeted with a burning stench and the sight of Ian’s lean, jeans-clad butt bent over the open oven door.

“Maybe you should be the one bringing home the animal carcass,” he said as he pulled out the charred sheet cake.

“Sorry.”

“I saw the sign you put up in the Broken Chimney. That meeting you’re planning. You can’t seem to keep your opinions to yourself, can you?”

She thought of Connor’s smirk and the way his fingers coiled around Ava’s shoulders. “I’m doing what I have to.”

He dumped the cake in the trash. “People are stirred up about you. Cancel the meeting, Tess, and give everybody time to find somebody else to gossip about.” He set the dirty pan on top of the stove and regarded her with what looked like concern. “Tempest is an insular town. You know that. All they welcome from outsiders is our cash. It’s not our job to barge in here and tell them how to live their lives.”

“It’s my job, and they need to listen.” She sounded self-important and judgmental, but she didn’t care.

He leaned against the counter. “I talked to Freddy Davis. He tried to give me the same crap he gave you.”

“I’d like to have seen that.”

“The point is, somebody’s got it in for you.”

She reached past him to carry the empty pan to the sink and turn on the water. “Brad Winchester leaps to mind.”

“He leaps to my mind, too.” He snagged his thumb in the waistband of his jeans. “You say you’re thinking about staying here.”

“I’m not thinking about it. I’m doing it.” Wren wheezed in her sleep. “I’ll have to get a nursing job. Dermatology, maybe. Or geriatrics.”

He frowned. “You’re a midwife, Tess. What are you talking about?”

“How can you say that?” She felt betrayed. “You, more than anyone, know why I can’t deliver another baby!”

A series of demanding knocks at the door interrupted them. He stalked out of the kitchen. “We’re putting a whole basket of condoms on that front porch right now. With a big sign that says, ‘Take as many as you want and go away.’”

But instead of teenagers demanding entry, Eli stood outside the door. “It’s my mom. I’m real worried, Tess. She won’t get out of bed.”

*

Ian refused to let her go by herself, but he stayed outside with Wren and Eli. Rebecca Eldridge lay curled on her side, knees drawn up, her long hair stringy on the pillow. There was no sign of Paul.

The bedroom was sparsely furnished: a mattress and box springs on the floor, a bare window, an old chest of drawers, and a straight-back chair with chipped green paint. Instead of a closet, a metal coatrack held their hanging clothes.

“Rebecca, it’s Tess Hartsong.” Tess pulled the chair to the side of the bed.

Rebecca’s eyes fluttered. “Tess?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Rebecca rolled to her back. A few strands of hair stuck to her pillow-creased cheek, and she had the stale smell of someone who hadn’t bathed in a few days. “What are you doing here?”

“Eli’s worried about you.”

“Did he bother you?” she said listlessly. “I told him not to bother you. I’m tired, that’s all.”

Tess touched her forehead. It was cool. “How long have you been in bed?”

“Not long. A day or two.”

Three days according to Eli. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

She smoothed Rebecca’s hair back from her face. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Rebecca managed a halfhearted shrug. “Women lose babies. Life happens.” A tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry.” Tess knew too well how inadequate those words were.

“It was a girl. Paul says I couldn’t know that, but I do. I know it was a girl.”

“And you wanted her very much.”

“More than anything. But Paul says it was meant to be. How does he know that?”

“He doesn’t.”

“It’s my fault!”

“Rebecca, it wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know that. Paul needed help clearing rocks in the field. I should have told him no, but you can’t tell him anything. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have been more careful.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. The majority of miscarriages are the result of chromosomal problems. I’m sure your doctor told you that.”

“I only saw him once.” Rebecca turned her face into the pillow.