First Comes Love

Life, Will supposed, didn’t get any better than this.

He had his own business—which was thriving nicely, thank you very much—and his best friend from childhood was his best friend in adulthood. Matter of fact, Will was still close to the whole Monahan clan, and although he hadn’t thought it would be possible, he’d been drawn even closer into the circle of their affection since his father’s death ten years ago. His old man had never remarried after his mother’s death when Will was four, so the Darrow family had never numbered more than two. The Monahans, however, had always welcomed Will with open arms. They were the family he’d never had himself, right down to little Tess.

Of course, little Tess wasn’t so little these days, which was something Will tried really, really hard not to notice whenever he saw her. Or whenever he thought about her. Or whenever he fantasized about—

Not that he ever fantasized about Tess, he quickly reminded himself. Not much, anyway. Well, hardly ever. Maybe just on those occasions when he saw her and tried really, really hard not to notice how she wasn’t so little anymore. Unfortunately, with her looking the way she did now, it was pretty much impossible not to notice, because she was just so damned—

Best to think about something else, he told himself quickly as a vision of not-so-little Tess unwrapped itself in his mind. Because, as was frustratingly common nowadays, whenever visions of not-so-little Tess appeared in his brain, she was always not-so-little dressed. In fact, this particular image was one of her wearing a skimpy little scrap of pale-yellow lingerie and some of those fuzzy high-heeled things and—

Oh, boy. Not again.

Will squeezed his eyes shut tight and concentrated on other things—anything—that might make the vision of a scantily clad Tess Monahan go away. The capital of Vermont is Montpelier, he thought. Babe Ruth hit 714 home runs in his career. The atomic weight of Boron is 10.81. A Scout is brave, trusty, kind, cheerful, obedient, thrifty, lusty…

No, wait. That wasn’t it. Where was he? Oh, yeah. Tess Monahan in wispy lingerie and—

No! That wasn’t it, either.

Will sighed with much exasperation, reminded himself that Tess’s oldest brother was in the room and started over again.

Marigold, Indiana, had been his home since he was seven and a half, and Finn Monahan had been his best friend since he was seven and a half and a day. Hell, Will could still remember when Mr. and Mrs. Monahan had brought Tess home from the hospital when he and Finn were ten, a tiny bundle of pink lingerie…uh, pink flannel…surrounded by five raucous little boys—six, if you counted Will. And Mr. and Mrs. Monahan always had.

Nope, Will thought as he twisted a wrench and loosened a lug nut—and recalled a faint image of Tess wearing that yellow lacy number—life definitely didn’t get any better than this.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Oh, great, Will thought. As if fantasizing—or, rather, thinking—about Tess Monahan wasn’t enough to mess him up, now she had to come calling at the garage.

“Hey, Tessie!” he heard Finn call out from the corner of the room. “How was school today?”

How was school today? Will replayed the words in his head and smiled. He could almost erase ten or fifteen years from their lives and hear Finn asking Tess that very question as she bounded through the front door all scrawny legs and tattered braids. He settled the wrench onto the oily concrete and pushed himself out from beneath the ’Vette.

“Hi-ya, kid,” he said as he rose, nearly choking on the last word when he got a look at Tess.

Kid. Right. With a body like hers and a mouth that tempting, Tess Monahan was anything but. Even so, to remind himself just where he and she stood in the scheme of things, he strode over to where she had parked herself and, as had been his habit for two dozen years, ruffled her hair.

Bad mistake, he realized, as he invariably did upon completing the action. And not just because she turned a mutinous, murderous gaze on him for doing it, either. But because Tess’s hair was like the finest silk, all soft and shimmery beneath his hand. He wondered how it would feel to, instead of rubbing her head like a good-luck charm, skim his palm lightly over those long tresses, or knife his fingers gently through the soft mass, or wrap a strand around his thumb and pull her closer, close enough to cover her mouth with his and—

Nothing, he told himself brutally. He would never do anything to—or with— Tess Monahan. She was a kid, even if she didn’t look the part. And she was his best friend’s sister.

And there was another reason, too, one Will didn’t like to dwell upon, one that unfolded in his head, anyway, as he wiped his hands on his soiled coveralls. It was no secret to anybody in Marigold that Tess Monahan had always had a crush on him. Hell, Will had known it himself since she was ten years old. And as much as he thought about—all right, fantasized about— Tess, he would never take advantage of that crush. Because crushes had a way of turning into infatuation. And infatuation never led anywhere at all.

Yeah, Will knew Tess had a thing for him. And maybe, just maybe, he had a little bit of a thing for her, too. But that thing, for her, at least, was little more than a habit by now. If she had feelings for him, it was only because she’d had them for so long, they had become second nature to her. They weren’t the result of an adult emotion that was destined for greatness. For Will to take advantage of her crush on him would be reprehensible, immoral. And it would only lead to trouble and a whole heap of hurt.

So Will kept his distance, because he knew it would be foolish to act on the attraction. Whatever might heat up between him and Tess would no doubt burn to a crisp in no time flat. Then the tenuous friendship they had would begin to feel awkward and uncomfortable. And in messing up things with Tess, Will might very well lose Finn, too. And Finn was the best pal he’d ever had.

“Hi, Will,” Tess greeted him as she pushed her—soft, silky, shimmery—bangs back into place. And, as she always did when she saw him, she took a couple of steps backward.

He hated it that he intimidated her the way he clearly did. But hell, he had twelve inches and about eighty pounds on her—not to mention ten years—so there wasn’t much he could do about it. And he knew she still felt embarrassed about that incident in her mother’s kitchen four years ago, when she’d gone so far as to blurt out the reality of what a big crush she’d had on him all her life.

Truth be told, Will wasn’t all that comfortable with the recollection of that, either. Even though there had always been a certain unspoken knowledge of her crush on him, neither of them had ever overstepped the bounds of propriety by actually talking about it. Not until the day Tess had just up and put voice to it the way she had.

But Will had moved on and forgotten all about the incident. He would put it right out of his mind. Totally and completely. Well, pretty much. Sort of. Hey, just because he couldn’t quite bring himself to look Tess in the eye anymore, that wasn’t any big deal, was it?

Nah.

“School was great today,” she told her brother. But there was something in her voice that didn’t quite ring true, something that sounded a little strained.

“They give you the big award?” Finn asked.

He’d risen from the chair long enough to give his sister a quick peck on the cheek, and now he folded himself back into it. The physical resemblance between the two siblings was amazing, Will noted, not for the first time. Except that Finn’s hair was black instead of blond. Then again, all of the Monahan kids resembled each other—all had those piercing blue Monahan eyes, all were extraordinarily good-looking, and all of the boys, at least, were tall and fit and slim. Tess, too, was fit and slim, but at five foot two, she didn’t exactly qualify for tall.

Upon closer inspection, though—but not too close— Will noted that she didn’t exactly qualify for fit today, either. Even standing in a slash of evening sunlight that spilled through the open bay door, she seemed a little pale, a little fatigued. A little…sick? But that was impossible. Tess Monahan never got sick.

“It wasn’t that big an award,” she told her brother, scattering Will’s thoughts. “But, yes, they gave it to me.”

“Congrats again, Tess,” Will said. And avoided her gaze.

“Thanks, Will,” she replied softly. And avoided his, too.

A strange and uncomfortable silence followed, and for some reason Will got the impression that Tess wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Finn seemed to sense the odd mood, too, along with his sister’s lack of color, because he tipped his head to the side to observe her.

“Everything okay, Tessie?” he asked in clear concern.

She nodded quickly. A little too quickly, Will thought. “Fine,” she said, the word coming out clipped and fast. “Everything’s fine. Perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? Do you know something I don’t know that would cause it to be not fine?”

Will exchanged a hasty glance with Finn, then both men gazed curiously at Tess.

“Uh, no,” Finn said. “I don’t think so. You know more than me—you’re the teacher, after all.”

Tess seemed to relax a little but was still obviously guarded as she said, “So you haven’t…you know… heard any…news?”

Will and Finn traded another one of those curious glances, then, “What kind of news?” Will asked.

Tess shrugged, but there wasn’t anything casual about the gesture at all—it was as quick and anxious as the words that followed it. “I don’t know,” she said. “Just…news. Newsy…news. Something, you know… out of the ordinary. Something you wouldn’t normally expect. Something that might shock or surprise you.”

Will and Finn both shook their heads. “No,” Will said. “It’s been pretty quiet around here today.”

Tess expelled a long, slow breath and swallowed with what Will could only liken to relief. Then, “Oh,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

“Is there something we should know, Tessie?” Finn asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “Something you want to tell us?”

“No!” she said, even more quickly than before. Immediately she blushed and dropped her gaze to the ground.

Oh, there was definitely something going on here, Will thought. Tess was acting very strangely. She was usually the most cool, calm, composed person he knew. This wasn’t like her at all.

“I mean,” she began again, “uh…no. There’s, um, there’s nothing. And if you do hear any news,” she added, glancing up, only to blush more furiously and drop her gaze again, “it’s not true.”

This time when Finn looked over at Will, it was with obvious apprehension. But all he said was, “Okay, Tessie. But if you want to talk about something…”

“Nothing,” she stated emphatically. “I don’t want to talk about anything. There is nothing to talk about.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you say.”

“Will,” she said, turning her attention away from her brother, “do you have that old tire you promised me for the kids in day camp?”

He nodded, putting aside—for now, at least—his concern over her strange behavior. “I found a truck tire,” he told her as he went to retrieve it from out back. “It’ll be a good size for the garden you want to make.”

Within minutes he had the big tire loaded in her trunk for her, and Tess was climbing into her car and waving goodbye. Boy, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough, he thought. He winced as she squealed her tires pulling out into the street.

“Man,” Finn said when Will returned, “what’s up with her?”

Will shook his head. “Got me. But there’s something going on, that’s for sure.”

Finn sighed philosophically. “Well, whatever it is, it’ll come out soon enough. Tessie never could keep a secret to save her life.”

Will tipped his head toward the car he had been working on when Tess arrived. “Put on some coveralls and get under the car with me for a minute. I need your opinion on something.”

Within seconds—and without coveralls— Finn was rolling himself under the chassis from the side opposite Will, heedless of the dirt and grime that were already decorating his designer dress shirt and tie. Will shook his head in wonder at his friend’s carelessness, but he figured Finn would just buy himself some new duds to replace the old ones, if they got dirty. And, hey, it wasn’t like the guy couldn’t afford it.

“What’s up?” he asked.

For long moments the two men pondered a complex mechanical dilemma, until the arrival of two red high heels—complete with shapely calves—appeared on the other side of the car.

A feminine voice called out, “Hel-lo-o-o-o-o? Will, are you here?”

Yeesh! Abigail Torrance, Will thought. Probably with another casserole. Just what he needed. His freezer was already overflowing with Abigail’s…creations. God, he hated casseroles.

“Go ahead,” Finn said softly with a devilish smile, wresting the wrench from Will’s fingers. “I’ll take care of this. I know how you feel about Abigail.”

Damn the man. The last thing Will needed was some woman underfoot. Still, Abigail—along with her trucking fleet—was one of his best clients, so he couldn’t very well offend her by telling her to shove off, could he?

With a resigned sigh he pushed himself out from under the car and stood. Even though he knew it wouldn’t do much good, he wiped his grease-stained hands on a grease-stained rag, then raked them both through his black hair. Akin to nothing, it occurred to him that he was long overdue for a haircut.

“Abigail,” he said with a forced smile when he saw her. “What a surprise. And is that a casserole you’re holding?”

She smiled in reply, turning her head in a purposeful way that Will knew was completed in order to show off the faint dimple in one cheek. She really was kind of pretty, he thought, and he had always preferred brunettes. But for some reason Abigail just didn’t rev his motor—so to speak. Then again, few women did.

It wasn’t that Will wasn’t interested in the fairer sex—on the contrary, his…masculine drive…was probably a bit more, uh…more masculine…than that of a lot of men. But there were other things in life that took precedence. He just wasn’t ready to settle down.

“You’ll love it,” Abigail told him coyly. “Tuna noodle surprise.”

Will forced another smile. “Did I ever tell you that was my favorite? I love the surprise part. Not many women would think to include watermelon.”

She batted her eyelashes. Actually batted them. Incredible. Then she purred, “Uh-huh. You did tell me it was your favorite.”

“Wow,” Will remarked dryly. “And you remembered. Imagine that.”

She extended the large, rectangular container toward him. “Just heat it up at three hundred and seventy-five degrees for forty-five minutes, and it will be ready.” She smiled again, more suggestively this time. “There’s plenty there for two, you know.”

Will nodded. “Great. You’ve got me covered for tonight and tomorrow night both. Thanks, Abigail. You’re swell.”

He tried not to choke on that last part, and hoped his dubious gratitude was convincing. He must have been at least marginally successful, because although she pouted at his rejection of her more-than-obvious offer, she quickly recovered and smiled again.

“Have you heard the latest news?” she asked.

Oh, boy. Gossip. Gee, Will just lived for that. “Um, no, Abigail, can’t say that I have.” He turned quickly toward the office with the pretext of taking the casserole in there, hoping the sight of his back would let her know just how anxious he was to hear whatever choice item she might have—namely, not anxious at all.

But Abigail, as usual, didn’t take the hint. “It’s about Tess Monahan,” she said, nearly breathless with excitement.

Will spun around, his gaze inevitably drawn to the trouser-clad legs sticking out from beneath the ’Vette. The trouser-clad legs that belonged to Tess Monahan’s oldest brother. The trouser-clad legs that Abigail obviously hadn’t seen.

“Uh, Abigail?” Will began, hoping to cut her off.

Although he didn’t for a moment think there could be anything shocking or controversial about Tess—hey, after all, it was Tess—he didn’t think it prudent for Abigail to be gossiping about her in front of one of her brothers. It just wasn’t polite. And Finn, like all of his brothers, had just a bit of a quick temper, not to mention a protective streak a mile wide, when it came to his kid sister. None of the Monahan boys would much appreciate Tess’s being talked about. Even if the talk was harmless. Which Will was sure this would be.

Because, hey, after all…it was Tess.

He opened his mouth to announce Finn’s presence, but Abigail, evidently much too excited to be put off any longer, blurted out her big news before he had the chance. And boy, oh, boy, what news it was.

“Tess Monahan has been knocked up!” she cried almost gleefully.

“What?!”

Will was surprised to discover that the outraged exclamation erupted not from the man beneath the ’Vette, but from his own mouth. And as if that weren’t bad enough, to punctuate his utter and complete shock, he dropped the casserole—tuna, noodle and surprise—onto the cement floor with a resounding crash.

Abigail, too, was taken aback by his response—literally. She took one giant step backward, as if she feared Will was going to bolt right over her on his way to—

To do what? he wondered. Right this egregious wrong? Beat the hell out of whoever was responsible for Tess’s condition? Break the jaw of whoever had started this stupid rumor in the first place? Even if it were true, what the hell business was it of his if Tess Monahan had gotten herself—

Knocked up?

Tess?

No way.

He spared a quick glance at Finn’s legs, which were still sticking out from under the car and, surprisingly, weren’t quivering with rage. Either he hadn’t heard Abigail’s announcement—which Will found highly unlikely—or else he was waiting to hear the rest…before he went out and thrashed the son of a bitch responsible for Tess’s predicament.

“No way,” Will said, turning back to the messenger, voicing his thoughts out loud. Though whether that was for Finn’s benefit, for Tess’s benefit or for his own benefit, he honestly wasn’t sure. “You must have gotten your wires crossed somewhere, Abigail. Tess Monahan isn’t that kind of girl.”

In response Abigail chuckled, and Will couldn’t help but think that there was something almost triumphant in the sound. “She is now,” Abigail said. “I saw her myself this morning at the teachers’ brunch. She was sick as a dog.”

Will shook his head in denial. “Tess has never been sick a day in her life.”

“I know. That’s what I said. The only thing that could make her this sick is morning sickness. Sister Angelina saw her barfing in the girls’ rest room, too.”

Will shrugged it off. “Oh, big deal. So Tess has the flu.” But even he had trouble believing it. “That doesn’t mean she’s pregnant.”

“There’s more,” Abigail said.

Yeah, Will would just bet there was. “Like what?”

Abigail took a few steps closer—carefully avoiding the spilled casserole—as if wanting to pull him physically into her conspiracy. “Well, for instance, about two months ago, Dolores Snarker was up in Bloomington, and she saw Tess at a Motel Six.”

Will somehow refrained from rolling his eyes. “So? A lot of people stay at motels, Abigail. And believe it or not, most of them don’t get pregnant.”

“Yeah, but Dolores saw Tess go into her room one night with a man.”

This Will found hard to believe. He also found it hard to digest, because his stomach pitched at hearing the revelation. But even if it was true that Tess had been with a man—Oh, God—it didn’t mean she was pregnant. It made him feel a little sick—all right, it made him feel a lot sick—but it didn’t mean Tess was pregnant. Probably. Then again, she was pretty naive, he reminded himself. She might not take the proper precautions if she found herself in that kind of situation. She was so trusting.

“That’s not proof of anything, Abigail,” he said, in spite of his misgivings.

But Abigail ignored his objection. “And,” she continued, “my aunt who works for Dr. Schwartz, the OB-GYN? She said Tess had an appointment last month.”

Will felt himself blushing at the mention of a…of a…of one of those…doctors…but, again, it wasn’t conclusive proof of anything. “It’s my understanding,” he said, “that women go see the…the…” He growled under his breath. “That women have appointments like that every year.”

“Ah, but it was Tess’s second visit in two months,” Abigail told him.

“Yeah, but still…” Will objected. Though not quite as strenuously as before.

“And,” Abigail continued happily, “Tess was in Bonnie’s Baby Boutique a couple of weeks ago, and Bonnie herself said Tess bought almost a hundred dollars worth of baby clothes and stuff.”

“It was probably a gift,” Will pointed out, though it was unlikely. Nobody in Marigold who was close to Tess was pregnant.

“That’s some gift,” Abigail replied dubiously.

“Tess is a generous person,” Will countered.

But his objections now were halfhearted, at best. There sure did seem to be an awful lot of evidence against Tess. And although gossiping was a pretty stable pastime in Marigold, hardly anyone could dispute that what went around almost always turned out to be true. Marigoldians might be rumormongers, but they were generally pretty good about keeping their facts straight. Even Will, who avoided the rumor mill, knew that.

Abigail stepped back again. “Well, nuns don’t lie,” she said, “and I heard about Tess’s condition from both Sister Mary Joseph and Sister Margarite. She’s pregnant, Will. And all of us are just dying to know who the father is. Susan Gibbs said she heard Tess say herself that it was a one-night stand.”

“What?”

Again, much to Will’s dismay, the outcry came not from under the ’Vette, but from the depths of his own dismay. Tess Monahan pregnant. And by some jerk who’d loved her and left her in one night. He could scarcely believe it.

But rumor, at least in Marigold, Indiana, didn’t lie. Tess Monahan was going to have a baby. And Will Darrow had no idea what to do.

Three

By week’s end, after three days of suffering from the flu, Tess was feeling a bit better. Although she was still weak and her appetite hadn’t returned to full capacity, her stomach was no longer rolling, and her fever had eased. Even so, she had readied herself for an early bedtime tonight, just as she had for the three evenings prior, and had already changed into her nightclothes—a powder-blue T-shirt and a fresh pair of pajama bottoms, these patterned with puffy white clouds. And she had just retired to the couch with a new book that a number of first-grade teachers on the Internet were touting as a wonderful educational aide—Raising a Creative Child in Modern Times—when the doorbell rang.

Tess sighed with heartfelt exasperation at the intrusion, then settled the book, spine up, on the sofa cushion beside her. Honestly. After the three days she’d just survived, the last thing she wanted or needed now was a visitor.

Having done her best this week to fend off—with not particularly effective success—all the speculation and congratulations about the birth of her upcoming, though nonexistent, baby, she was ready to scream at the next person who brought it up.

Marigold being the kind of place that it was, there probably wasn’t a soul around who hadn’t heard about—and been convinced of—her “condition” by now. Her visitor this evening, she was certain, was yet another Marigoldian who had come to either speculate or congratulate.

Or, worse, to offer help.

Carol McCoy, up the block, who had four teenagers, had met Tess at the front door when she’d arrived home from school that first day of the rumors, and the other woman had been pulling a wagon loaded with three big boxes of hand-me-downs. They were her children’s cast-offs that Carol had been storing in the basement, knowing that someday they’d come in handy for some expectant mother.