Out of the Depths

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHANCE FOUGHT THE BED all night and got up at dawn on Thanksgiving morning. His mind was already racing, fueled by thoughts of the baby, telling his parents and Kyndal’s refusal of his marriage offer. Might as well add some caffeine to the mix.

While the coffee brewed, Chesney came to him, wagging a sleepy tail, nosing his hand. He plopped down on the kitchen floor and gave her a hug. Accepting the invitation, she crawled into his lap. He scratched behind the Lab’s ears, and she closed her eyes in unabashed pleasure.

Kyndal Rawlings was a piece of work. Most women in her situation would jump at the opportunity to marry a successful attorney from a well-to-do family who also happened to be the father of their baby. But not Kyndal. Oh, no, that would be too easy. She had to fight for everything she ever had…and this was no different.

He stopped scratching, and Chesney protested by nudging him with a cold nose until he massaged her neck.

The way he’d handled the matter last night was nothing to be proud of, either. Getting a pregnant woman that angry—a woman pregnant with his baby—was heartless. Maybe dangerous? He didn’t know, but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

There was just so much he didn’t know. The thought of having a baby thrilled and terrified him at the same time—as did the thought of being married to Kyndal. He was almost relieved she’d turned him down even though it stung like hell.

Chesney laid her head back to look at him, and her brown puppy eyes seemed to soften with understanding.

He had a lot to learn. And he had to make peace with Kyndal. They couldn’t bring a baby into a world where they were fighting all the time. Chesney licked his chin as her tail thumped in agreement.

He gave Ches her breakfast and grabbed a banana for himself. Although there would only be the three of them, his mom was preparing a holiday feast and he was expected to bring an appetite.

He needed to tell his parents about the baby, though he’d prefer to wait until the pregnancy was further along. Kyndal would’ve told Jaci, no doubt, and the redhead had earned her blabbermouth reputation. With Jaci in the know, the possibility that his parents might hear the news secondhand was too great.

It was times like this when he missed Hank the most. As kids, Hank had always been the primary focus, and Chance had gotten away with things simply because his parents didn’t take the time to notice.

Not anymore. Privacy had been buried with Hank.

Today, when he broke the news of the baby, he would be at center stage, and Hank wouldn’t be there to smooth things over the way he did so well when attention was drawn to one of Chance’s misdeeds.

He tried to take a deep breath, but the air seemed to stop midway into his lungs. He needed to breathe lung-filling breaths that would take away this anxiety squeezing his core. Looking through his kitchen window, he decided that the yard didn’t seem big enough to contain his energy today. He wanted to go to the cave.

Once he’d gotten over the initial trauma of the accident, he’d started to go there often again to think or relax. Lured by its timelessness, he found comfort seeing with his own eyes that some things lasted forever. He could talk to Hank there, and, sometimes if he listened, he could hear Kyndal and him—the way they used to be.

And the dream of having his children to bring here had come true—or it would in less than a year. What a staggering thought.

“Let’s go, girl.” He shrugged into a jacket and attached the leash to Chesney’s collar.

The November air was brisk. It felt good to be outside.

Chesney pulled at the leash, anxious to dash down the path and explore territory different from the yard. He unhooked her and let her run.

Putting off the electric company last week had been a mistake. The underground cable needed to be run so he could install the new security system. He had to keep the cave secure for the little Brennan on the way.

Excitement coursed through his veins. He took off at a full-speed run.

When he rounded the corner that brought the black-hole entrance into view, he stopped and took it all in.

Damn! The place was a mess. The kids had been partying again. And the security engineer had been right. The alarm must have gone off, but he wasn’t home, so it did no good.

Beer cans and liquor bottles were everywhere. Empty bags of snacks and candy wrappers littered the entire area. More than he’d ever seen before. The crowds were getting bigger. He dreaded seeing the inside. A tightness in his gut forewarned trouble ahead.

That and the panties Chesney brought to him. She pranced about, so proud of the treasure she’d found, before dropping them at his feet.

They were small and a delicate pink, and they immediately took him back to the thong Kyndal had worn.

“I’ve never been good enough for you, and my love has never been enough to hold you.”

Her words crashed down on him again. She’d read his mind. She would end up hating him before this was over.

He caught the panties on the toe of his boot and flung them into a pile of rubbish.

Sweat broke out on his forehead as he stepped cautiously through the entrance. He stopped to let his eyes adjust. At first glance, nothing more than the usual graffiti was visible. The wall with all the names. A couple more were added, but nothing as bad as he was expecting.

Chesney’s excited bark drew him to the next room where the sight brought him to a standstill.

Air mattresses covered the floor nearly wall-to-wall. Condom wrappers, used condoms, liquor bottles, beer cans, toilet paper, cigarette packages—it would take hours to clear all this out. But he couldn’t bear to leave it like this.

When the flashlight revealed what they had done to the wall, his breath exploded from his chest. “Son of a bitch! Those little bastards.”

A trophy wall! A place to boast of their conquests. Some enterprising individual had actually drilled nail holes. Underwear—bras, panties, briefs, boxers—hung from the nails with names painted beneath.

To top it off, they were paired up—a bra with a guy’s briefs, boxers and a thong. Some held two female or two male garbs, and some nails held more than two.

The guilt, fear and frustration he’d so carefully modulated since last night shot to the surface. He grabbed a bottle and smashed it against the wall, and then another and another, letting out a savage scream with each that sent Chesney scurrying away with her tail between her legs.

This had gone way past teenage fun. He stomped the air mattresses, delighting in the giant pops the pillows made.

This had all the trimmings of a drunken orgy. Beer cans crunched as he flattened them under his boots. Things were out of hand, and it had to stop before someone got raped. Or killed.

Buck Blaine needed to see this. He pulled out his phone to call the sheriff.

What a way to start Thanksgiving. It gave him no hope the rest of the day would be any better.

* * *

JACI PREPARED A CUP OF coffee and stepped out on the deck, needing a few minutes of calm before the hectic day started. The Thanksgiving crowd would arrive in a few hours.

A thick layer of frost covered the ground, confirmation that autumn was quickly being pushed out by winter’s approach. The cup warmed her hands as she said prayers of thanks for Kyndal and her baby, Julia’s speedy recovery and, as always, Bart.

A flock of honking geese circled overhead, making their approach to land on the pond. She watched them with interest and turned to catch their descent when a smear of red on the wooden deck caught her eye. Her gaze followed it to a sight that tore a strangled cry from her throat. “Oh, no!”

A mother cat, bloody, battered and panting hard, lay stretched against the railing at the corner of the deck. Two tiny kittens snuggled against her, nursing.

Jaci approached cautiously, but the cat was obviously too weak to move. Puncture wounds around her glassy eyes and hideous gashes around her throat and back suggested she’d lost a fight with a raccoon.

She purred loudly as Jaci stooped beside her. Despite the soothing sound, Jaci was filled with dread. The mother’s

rasping breath had an ominous gurgle to it.

“It’s okay.” Jaci brushed a finger along the cat’s whisker line, and the purring increased to a soft rumble. The kittens seemed unharmed, pushing with their tiny paws as they sucked. One was gray, the other black with white socks. They couldn’t be over two weeks old. Their eyes weren’t even open yet.

Jaci stroked the mother cat. “You’re a good mom,” she said quietly. “You saved your babies.” At least, two of them. The mother seemed to understand, relaxing and closing her eyes as Jaci’s mind raced. Could she get the cat somewhere in time to save her?

An animal hospital was located just off the interstate. She passed it every day on the way to work. The sign in front said it was open for emergencies twenty-four hours a day. Would that include holidays? She had to try.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the injured animal. “We’ll get you some help.”

Rushing back into the house, she abandoned her still-full cup of coffee in the kitchen sink and grabbed two of the towels that were folded and stacked in the laundry room. In the garage, she spied an old wooden crate that would make a good bed for transport. She dumped its contents onto Bart’s workbench.

Taking the shortcut out the back door of the garage, she loped onto the deck, crate in hand and towels tucked under her arm, but then slowed her steps lest she frighten the injured cat.

The mother wasn’t panting so hard, and at first, Jaci’s heart leaped, hoping the animal’s pain had eased. But her heart nosedived as she realized that not only was the cat not panting hard, she wasn’t breathing at all. She lay motionless, the only movement from the jerking and tugging of the babies as they suckled.

A deep sob quivered in Jaci’s chest as she sat down. No need to hurry now. What was the use? She’d still need to take the kittens to the animal hospital, but that could wait. She could allow them these few minutes…this last bit of love and comfort their mama would ever be able to provide.

She stroked the animal’s head with one hand and swiped tears with the other. “You did good, sweet kitty. I’ll—” She stopped, unsure how to finish the sentence. What was she going to do? She wouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep—not even to a deceased cat. But she knew nothing about kittens and didn’t have the foggiest idea if a shelter would take babies this young. She tried for something noncommittal. “What you did was very brave. They’re beautif—” The constriction in her throat cut off her words.

The gray kitten, which was slightly bigger than the black, released the nipple, and, with a wide yawn, rooted against his mom’s tummy and curled up, full and safe and calm.

Jaci swallowed away the lump. Arguing with herself would only waste valuable time. She already knew what she was going to do. She stroked the mama cat’s head a final time. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “I’m here. I’ll take good care of your babies.”

The black kitten had its fill by then, also. Jaci picked them up and snuggled them under her chin, catching the faint scent of milky breath.

Even filled with towels, the crate seemed much too large for the two tiny creatures, but it would have to do for now. She placed them in their new bed and watched them squirm until they found each other, then settled down contented.

She carried the kittens inside, wondering how Bart would respond to the surprise.

The kittens he probably wouldn’t mind.

But he wouldn’t be too thrilled when he found out the first item on this Thanksgiving agenda was an unscheduled cat funeral.

* * *

STUART REINHOLT WAS A man about to bolt.

Kyndal studied him covertly as they passed around the pumpkin pie and apple dumplings. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was about his manner. It was just a vibe she was too familiar with—a sort of sixth sense that she’d learned to recognize in men.

On the surface, he and Julia appeared to be a happy, loving couple. They’d stopped by Jaci’s on their way home from Thanksgiving dinner at his mother’s house, and Jaci was obviously excited to see her business partner feeling well enough to visit.

And while Kyndal was glad to see with her own eyes just how good Julia looked considering she’d been through a bilateral mastectomy last month, Stuart’s presence set her nerves on edge.

“What did you think of your mom’s pie today?” Julia tried to draw him into the conversation.

He shrugged without looking at her. “It was okay.”

Julia turned her attention back to the group. “Hilda made a maple bourbon pecan pie that was to kill for.”

The tiny interaction, which was no interaction at all, was sad to watch, and made Kyndal’s stomach tighten. “I think I’ll pass on the pie.” She slid the plate over to Paul, Jaci’s dad.

“Well, then…” Paul cut a generous wedge and placed it on his dessert plate. “I’ll take Kyndal’s portion, too.”

Jaci’s mom eyed his monstrous helping. “That’s not just Kyndal’s portion. That’s big enough for you, Kyndal and Sasquatch. Honestly, Paul, you’re gonna keep on eatin’ till one day you’re just gonna bust into a thousand pieces.”

“Maybe.” Paul swallowed a large bite and winked at his wife. “But I know which piece you’ll be scrambling to keep as a memento.”

“Aaeeiiii!” Jaci wailed, cramming her fingers into her ears. “Please don’t say things like that around me. Makes me want to lose my dinner. And remember, we have babies present.” She nodded toward the wooden crate with the sleeping kittens who, with their every-two-hours feeding schedule had been the center of attention all day.

Paul shrugged. “They can’t hear me. Their ears are still closed.”

Everybody laughed and Bart slid his arm around Jaci’s shoulder and kissed the side of her head.

This is the way it’s supposed to be.

Even as a child, Kyndal had loved being at Jaci’s house. Betty and Paul were crazy about each other, and their home had a warm, cozy atmosphere that made everyone feel welcomed. The holidays were a time of good-natured ribbing closely followed by a hug.

Kyndal discreetly patted her tummy. Someday, precious one, we’ll have a family like this.

Last night’s horrible scene with Chance flashed in her mind causing her hand to tremble. What if that wasn’t true? What if she and the baby didn’t ever have this? She and her mom had never had this, but she’d always dreamed it would be different when she had a child.

She passed the apple dumplings on to Paul, and for a second, her eyes locked with Stuart’s before his darted away. He laughed with everybody else when Betty slapped Paul’s hand away from the serving spoon, but Kyndal recognized the hollow ring in his laugh.

In that moment of brief connection, she read something in his eyes…something she remembered seeing in the eyes of so many others. How had she missed it completely nine years ago with Chance? Had she simply chosen to ignore it because she was afraid to admit the truth?

Come Christmas, she’d be surprised if Julia and Stuart were still together.

No doubt about it, Stuart Reinholt was about to bolt.

* * *

“ALEX DONOVAN AND I are going to meet about Rick Warren next week.” Bill Brennan swiped a hot roll from the basket his wife held and dropped it onto his bread plate. “You ought to join us.”

“How is the good senator?” Chance took a roll, also. “Thanks, Mom.”

She patted his shoulder and sat the basket near him and out of his dad’s reach, one of her little ways of trying to keep the elder Brennan’s weight down.

“He’s fine,” his dad answered. “Impressed with what he’s seen of Warren and about to come on board with my proposal, I think.”

“That’s great.” Chance tried to gather some enthusiasm for the subject, but the other news he carried weighed it down. “I can’t wish Rick enough good fortune. He deserves everything he gets.”

“Damn straight. Saved your life. The guy’s got my support forever.”

“Are you feeling sick, sweetheart? You’ve only had one helping of candied sweet potatoes, and you hardly touched your green beans.”

The worried look in his mom’s eyes made Chance rethink his decision to wait until after dinner to break the news.

Maybe if he got this over with, he could at least enjoy a piece of pecan pie.

“Actually, I’ve got something I want to talk to both of you about, so I might as well get it over with. Kyndal’s pregnant.”

His mom’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “But you’re not seeing Kyndal, right? So that bothers you because…?”

“The baby’s mine.”

His dad’s fork clattered onto his plate. “What in the hell, Chance? How could this happen?”

“Seriously, Dad? You want specifics? Kyndal’s pregnant with my child.”

“Oh, Chance…” His mother slumped back in her chair.

Bill Brennan wiped his mouth and threw his napkin down in his lap. “I mean, how could you let this happen?”

He’d asked himself that same thing hundreds of times since last night. Chance took a sip of wine before answering. His dad would remain combative, but he hoped to make his mom understand. “It happened in the cave. We were afraid and we let our emotions run away with us.”

His dad grabbed the fork again, thrusting it to punctuate his words. “Well don’t let her hornswoggle you into marriage, you hear me? That’d be kissing those dreams of yours goodbye. You can afford to pay child support. Plenty of it.”

“She turned down my marriage proposal.” The words stuck in his craw and burned all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

“Well, hallelujah!” His dad sawed at a piece of turkey as if it were leather. “At least one of you has some sense.”

“What’s sensible about a woman trying to raise a child alone when the job she has will barely allow her to take care of herself?” Chance pushed his plate away, confident he wouldn’t be able to eat another bite.

His mom cleared her throat. “What’s she doing now?”

Chance felt the heat rush into his face. “Well, she’s moved back here into her mother’s house. Tomorrow, she starts at Pet Me, working on a…um—” how could he make this sound less awful? “—a Christmas promotion.”

“Oh, good God.”

His dad’s utterance reminded him of his own a*shole comment to Kyndal about the job last night. “But there’s a new tourism magazine the state’s starting up, and she’s hoping to get the job as its full-time photographer. That’s why

she went to the cave to start with—to get the shots.”

His mom nodded. “Oh, yes, I’d forgotten that. Maybe you could put in a good word for her with Alex Donovan, Bill.”

“With her politics? Not a chance. Besides, asking for one favor from him is plenty.”

“We don’t need any favors.” Chance picked up his fork. Realizing he had no appetite left, he set it back down. “I’ll see that Kyndal and the baby are well taken care of.”

“Listen to me, son.” The edge was gone momentarily from his dad’s voice. “Take care of the baby, but don’t let that woman get involved in your life. She can’t help your career. Hell, with what she was involved in, she’ll crush it. And look at her background. Her dad was a bum. Her mom’s a…a…”

Chance’s heated glare dared him to complete that sentence.

“Kyndal inherited bad genes from both sides. You know that better than I do.”

Chance tightened his hold on the wineglass, then, thinking better, set it back on the table. “Enough said, Dad.”

“This is my house. My table. I can say what I damn well want about anyone I damn well please.”

“Please, you two…it’s Thanksgiving.” Emily Brennan stepped into her usual role, trying to smooth things out between her husband and her son. “She’s due in mid-June, then?”

The question should have been obvious, but Chance hadn’t thought about the due date. Come summer, he would be a father. He reached for the wineglass again, nodding to his mom as he raised the glass to his lips.

A faraway look came into her eyes as a hesitant smile bloomed. “Maybe the baby will come on Hank’s birthday.” Her voice caught, and in the candlelight, Chance saw a gleaming tear hanging on her lower eyelid. She scurried from her chair, grabbing up the gravy boat, which was still three-quarters full. “I’ll get more gravy.”

Chance cast an eye toward his dad, but the senior Brennan was more interested in his corn bread dressing than his wife. Chance bit back the comment that would show his disgust and followed his mom into the kitchen. When she sat the dish down, he reached for her and pulled her to him. Her face sank into his chest with a small sob.

“Sorry, Mom. I think I ruined dinner with my news.”

She shook her head, leaving a streak of tearstains across his shirt. “No, you didn’t, sweetheart. Babies are blessings…never bad news. It’s your father. He shouldn’t say the things he does.”

Her words cut into Chance’s gut and laid him open. “Oh, God, Mom. I’m becoming him. Everything he said out there about Kyndal…I’ve thought them all.” His voice cracked, making him sound—and feel—thirteen again.

“I was afraid this would happen if you went into practice with him.” The sadness in her voice nearly broke him all over again. “But you have a kind heart, Chance, and a good head on your shoulders. You can choose not to be like him.”

He wasn’t so sure. All those terrible things he said to Kyndal seemed to prove that his choice had been made. “You don’t think it’s too deeply ingrained in me?”

“That you feel guilty tells me it’s barely scraped the surface. I’m thankful.” Her arms tightened around his waist as she leaned back to look him in the eye. “You’ve given me something else to be thankful for today, too. There’s going to be a new little Brennan.”

Their shared smiles brightened the moment, and Chance felt lighter than he had in years. “We don’t smile together like this enough, Mom. It feels good.”

“I think maybe the reconnection to Kyndal has something to do with it.”

“I don’t know.” He squeezed her tighter and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “The woman drives me crazy, and she made it plain she doesn’t want anything to do with marrying me.”

His mom’s eyebrows knitted. “That doesn’t sound like the Kyndal I remember.”

“Exactly! She’s different. She can be cold and aloof and…and she seems to have lost her ambition…her drive.”

His mom’s hands moved up to hold his cheeks the way she had when he was a child and she had something important to tell him. He couldn’t move to break eye contact. “She’s a woman alone and pregnant with sudden limitations you’ll never understand. She hasn’t lost her drive. She’s refocused it. She makes every decision now with the baby foremost in her mind. You’ll do well to remember that.” She gave his cheek a pat, and a wistful look came into her eyes. “Now tell me about this marriage proposal I didn’t even know was in the works.”

Chance leaned against the counter and studied the texture in the granite floor. “I didn’t know it was in the works, either. She told me she was pregnant, and I figured it was what needed to be done, so I just sort of blurted it out. Insisted, actually.” His mom tilted her head. “Okay, demanded.”

Emily Brennan gave a sarcastic snort. “How romantic. Sounds like every woman’s dream proposal.”

“She just makes me crazy, Mom.”

“Love makes us all crazy.”

Love?

Nobody had said anything about love…except Kyndal. “She said the love I felt for her when we were kids was ineffectual because I left her, anyway.” He grimaced, realizing how much it sounded like he was tattling.

His mother laughed, a pleasant sound even with its scolding implication. “‘Ineffectual,’ huh? Well, she hasn’t lost her way with words. But why did she say that?” She raised a knowing eyebrow. “And the bigger question is why did you sabotage the proposal? I mean, even a spontaneous one can be the sweet, down-on-one-knee kind every woman dreams of. What held you back?”

He hadn’t seen this kind of intensity in his mom’s eyes in years. There was life in them, and they were boring a hole into his soul and opening him up, just as Kyndal did. “I’m afraid.” Were those actually tears blurring his vision? His normally strong voice came out as a strained whisper. “What if she’s not the woman I need in my life?”

His mom’s eyes softened with her smile. “The time will come, sweetheart, when you’ll know with certainty who you don’t need in your life and who you do. If you love her, you need her.”

That word again.

A vision of them in the cave flashed through his mind—in the ancient room when he thought he was going to lose her, he’d told her he loved her. She had been the only thing keeping him going then, the only thing he needed. And now nothing was more important than the baby—and she was the only one who could give him this child. Thoughts of holding her—making love to her—pulled at his heart. He didn’t only need her, he wanted her. An understanding of how much solidified in his mind and his heart.

“Oh, God, Mom, I love her.” The words closed his throat with emotion.

“But it can’t be ineffectual love.” Her tender smile brought tears to his eyes again. “There has to be purpose behind it. Love isn’t a word, Chance. Saying it is easy. But it takes actions to prove it.”

Even though he knew it wouldn’t last, for tonight, for this moment, he felt at peace.

His mom picked up the pecan pie and waved it in front of his face. “I don’t think we need more gravy. But it may be time for dessert. What do you say?”

The buttery, sweet scent made his mouth water, but he couldn’t truly enjoy the luscious dessert until he got the bitter taste out of his mouth. “I say, cut me a big piece. I’ll be back in a minute. I have a quick call I need to make.”

He stepped out the back door and punched Kyndal’s number into his phone.

It rang quite a few times. When she didn’t answer, the machine instructed him to leave a message.

“Kyn, it’s Chance. Today’s Thanksgiving and I wanted you to know how thankful I am you chose to have this baby…our baby. We’ll work things out.”

He stopped there, not saying the rest of what he was thankful for—the job she was pursuing was in Paducah so the baby would be near him at all times.

And so would she.