A Soldier's Secret Page 9

  He shook his head. “Nope. If I had told them, that would be putting them in a position to have to lie if someone from some government agency talked to them. And my mother is a really terrible liar.”

  “No one knows about the marriage?” she asked in a flat tone.

  He shook his head. “Nope. But they will after I tell Stella.”

  As they reached the door, he gave Natalia a guillotine sign to cut the chatter.

  “You go in,” she said. “I forgot something in the car.”

  Stella was in the kitchen making coffee. She’d tossed her peacoat on a bar stool and set her funky beaded purse on the center island. His sister dressed as if she couldn’t decide what decade she was living in. Her acid-washed jeans had holes in the knees and looked strange with the black spike heels, her pink silk shirt and dangling silver necklace could’ve been worn to the symphony, and her massive mane of hair threatened to escape from under a slouchy knitted hat that sat on the back of her head.

  Most of the time when she was growing up, he’d felt more like Stella’s father than her older brother, but now that she was on her own, he enjoyed the freedom of just being himself. He was still concerned about her tendency to make impulsive decisions, but he had to let it go. She’d never learn to handle her own life if he didn’t.

  “You look great, Stella.”

  “You said that already. What’s going on?”

  He glanced toward the door. Natalia was gone. He went to the cabinets and took down three cups. “Did Mom tell you Natalia and I were dating?”

  She shook her head. “Really? I thought she was your boss.”

  “She is. But now she’s my wife.”

  His sister veered backward, sucked in some air and let out a strangled cough. She raised a hand. “Sorry. I don’t think I heard correctly. Did we just go from boss to wife?”

  He checked to see if the coffee was done. “We did. Natalia and I were married yesterday. And now she’s moving things in.”

  Stella’s totally stunned expression told him he might not have handled this with the most finesse. He stepped over and reached to give her a hug. “I was going to tell you—”

  She shoved him away. “You’re married! You’re married and you didn’t tell anyone?”

  He shrugged, raised his hands, palms up.

  “Mom is going to kill you! I mean really kill you!”

  Natalia walked into the room, her eyes big as she stood there looking at the two of them. “Coffee ready?” She smiled sanguinely.

  Damn. He’d thought Natalia was a little too calm, and now he knew why. She was enjoying seeing him squirm. And Stella wasn’t making it any easier. Okay. Fine.

  He walked over, put his arm firmly around Natalia’s shoulders, pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. She stiffened like a concrete wall. “I was just telling Stella about our elopement.” He eyed his younger sister. “And she’s very happy for us.”

  Stella looked as if she’d been poleaxed, but smiled through it. “Yes…uh, very happy.” She came forward, gave Natalia a quick embrace and then stepped back again. “Congratulations.” She glared at him. “Congratulations to both of you.”

  Then, shaking her head, she added, “This whole thing is such a huge surprise, it’s gonna take me a while to process the idea.”

  Mac nodded in understanding. “Nothing has really changed, though. We’re still doing the same things as before.”

  “Really?” Stella asked. “You get married and don’t tell anyone, and nothing has changed?” She looked at Natalia. “Do you want to hit him or should I?”

  Natalia didn’t respond, but the way her mouth ticked up on one side, he knew that was probably a good thing. He went over and poured them each a cup of coffee. “Cream, anyone?”

  “The usual for me,” Natalia said to him, then turned to Stella. “I love how he remembers all the little things.” Her sugary, jalapeño-pepper-spiced tone left no doubt that she wanted to string him up with a very short rope.

  “You know, on second thought,” Stella said, “I think I better get going.” She picked up her purse and sashayed toward the door.

  “You just got here,” Mac called after her.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “I thought you were going to stay a few days.”

  She turned. “You just got married.” Her tone was incredulous. “Of course I’m not going to stay.”

  Shifting her gaze to Natalia, she said, “Girlfriend, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  Natalia laughed, but he could almost feel the sharp steel edge in it.

  “I know,” she said. “Believe me, I know.” In almost the same breath, she announced, “I’m going, too. I’ve got to get some more things from my place, and I have some errands to run. I won’t be back until later this evening.”

  “Not a problem,” he said as she headed out the door, biting his tongue on a few choice words. There was nothing more exasperating than being on the opposite end of any issue with two women. He’d spent most of his life in the company of women and still didn’t understand squat about them.

  One minute Natalia was all uptight about pretending to be married, and the next she was yanking his chain when he didn’t act like it.

  But his sister wasn’t kidding anyone. He knew exactly where she was going and what she was going to do—and he had to beat her to it.

  He picked up the phone and, gritting his teeth, punched in his mother’s number.

  CHAPTER SIX

  NATALIA AWOKE WITH A start…in a strange room, in a strange bed. Muted sunlight streamed through the cream-colored mesh window shades. A woodpecker banged out a staccato rhythm on a tree somewhere in the distance. She shook her head, still groggy from a dream she no longer remembered—other than that it was disconcerting. But in her case, not remembering was a good thing.

  Not waking up in a sweat was a good thing.

  As she rolled over and stretched, the faint scent of coffee reached her nose. She glanced at the clock: 6:30 a.m. and Mac was already up making coffee. Her stomach rumbled.

  On workdays, she always went to the Bean for coffee, but on her days off she usually slept in. After rising, she made breakfast, read the paper and then planned the day. But today, she was a newly married woman sleeping in the guest room at her husband’s home. Nothing would be as usual.

  They needed to make a quick trip to Phoenix in the morning to see his attorney and sign some papers, Mac had told her. Phoenix was only a two-hour drive, so there was plenty of time to go and come back in the same day. But today, she had nothing else planned, except telling her friends she and Mac had gotten married.

  Right now, though, all she wanted to do was go for a jog, have coffee and read the paper.

  She tossed on navy blue sweats and tennis shoes, splashed her face with water, brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her hair—to no avail—and then went downstairs. Mac was in the kitchen standing at the stove, his back to her. The room smelled of chicory and bacon, and her stomach rumbled again.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He jerked back as if ready to hit someone, but seeing it was her, let out a long breath. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry.”

  He went back to cooking and she walked over to the coffeepot on the counter to his left. Two cups were sitting next to it, along with a cream and sugar set. “Is the coffee ready?”

  “Yep. Can you pour me one, too, please?”

  Wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants, and with his tawny hair going every which direction, Mac looked as if he’d just rolled out of the sack. For years after his discharge, he’d kept a short, military haircut, but last year he’d let it grow, and she had to admit she liked the longer, more casual look better. It suited his easygoing personality. Except, these days he was anything but easygoing.

  She poured the coffee, set one cup next to him and then went to the table in a nook with bay windows all around. Mac had already put out t
wo place settings on the round cherrywood surface, and next to one setting was a newspaper. “Are you expecting company?” she asked.

  He looked over and flashed a salacious grin. “Nope. Just us newlyweds.”

  “Funny,” she retorted, but heaved a small sigh of relief and wondered if he’d gotten the paper for her. He’d said before that he got all his news online and had teased her about not keeping up with technology. Maybe this was his way of making things easier for her? And it was strange. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen, or imagined, this side of him.

  But she liked it.

  With coffee and a newspaper, there would be some semblance of normal in her life.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved,” she said as she sat at the table. “And it smells wonderful. What are you making?”

  “A MacAllister frittata.”

  “And that is?”

  “Eggs with potatoes, ham, onion, peppers and anything else I feel like—”

  A noise in the driveway interrupted him—the sound of a car skidding to a stop on the gravel, then doors slamming, first one, then another and another. Mac rushed over and leaned down beside her, peering out the window, an expression of panic on his face. She turned, too. Four women, all blondes who looked remarkably similar, were headed toward the house.

  “Holy shit,” Mac said. “It’s my mother and sisters.”

  “What are they doing here?”

  He stood. “Damn. I couldn’t get in touch with anyone last night or this morning, and my guess is that Stella did.”

  “I take it that’s bad.”

  “Majorly. My mother doesn’t like hearing things secondhand.”

  The bell rang. Mac went to the stove and moved the pan off the burner.

  “Should I go upstairs?”

  “Absolutely not.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him through the living room. “I need support.”

  Passing a mirror in the hallway, Natalia saw her hair didn’t look much better than Mac’s, and she was wearing her oldest sweats with a hole in one knee. “But—”

  The bell stopped ringing and then there was a bang on the front door. “No buts.” Mac braced himself, one arm against the door frame. Almost as soon as he turned the knob, the women flooded into the living room, then stood there looking at her.

  Stella, Natalia noticed, hadn’t come along.

  Mac pulled her closer, one arm around her shoulders as he flashed one of his magnetic smiles.

  “Mom. What a nice surprise.”

  Natalia had met Mac’s mother, Catherine, a couple years earlier at the Spirit Creek Spring Festival, but hadn’t seen her since.

  “Nice surprise, my patootie. Since when does a mother’s only son get married without telling anyone?”

  “Since the mother’s son decided he didn’t want his family making a big deal of his getting married, and he wanted it to be a private romantic wedding between him and his bride.” He took a breath and glanced at Natalia. “That’s when.”

  The woman gave Natalia a once-over. “You wanted that kind of wedding?”

  “Uh, before we start with the twenty questions,” Mac said, “I’d like to make some introductions. Natalia, you’ve met my mother before....” He looked at the others. “Ladies, this is Natalia, my wife. Natalia, these are my other younger sisters—Maggie, Sophia and Rocky.”

  Natalia reached out to shake hands, but Catherine swooped in and enveloped her in a lily-of-the-valley-scented bear hug. “I’m sure it’s not your fault, dear,” she said as she released her.

  One by one, the sisters joined in with hugs and good wishes, and the last one, Rocky, said as she stepped away, “My name is Roxanne, by the way. Only, everyone in the family, including my brother, seems to forget that.”

  Smiling through her teeth, Natalia repeated, “Nice to meet you,” three times, and then it seemed everyone was talking at once, and she felt as if she were at a carnival with a cacophony of animal noises and show barkers all around her.

  “Excuse me.” She raised her voice to be heard over the din. “Would anyone like some coffee?” She smiled and then, in a normal voice, said, “Mac was just making breakfast. He could probably add a few more eggs—”

  “How sweet,” Catherine said. “Thank you for asking. We had breakfast on our way down from Flagstaff, but I would love some coffee.”

  The buzz of conversation followed close behind as she went into the kitchen. Luckily, the cups were in the first cabinet she opened. Mac’s mother came over, grabbed the coffeepot and proceeded to fill the cups.

  Back at the stove, Mac finished the frittata, dished up two plates and motioned for Natalia to sit and eat. Then he said, “C’mon, ladies. Grab a chair.”

  Once settled, he picked up a fork and, between bites, told his mother, “I tried calling you all night and this morning to tell you, but didn’t get an answer.”

  Mac’s mother had to be about sixty or so, but she looked ten years younger. Her medium-length, golden-blond hair was highlighted, and she wore jeans, short black boots with three-inch heels, and a white tailored shirt that buttoned in front. Her face showed only a few soft wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, and Natalia couldn’t help comparing her to her own mother, who had prematurely gray hair and had dressed matronly even when Natalia was a child. She’d always seemed old—old and inflexible. Black was black and white was white.

  “There was nothing wrong with my phone,” Catherine said. “I talked to Stella and all your other sisters. They can vouch for that.”

  “Ah,” Mac said. “That’s why I couldn’t get through.”

  Catherine took a sip of coffee.

  Natalia lifted a forkful of frittata to her lips.

  Maggie, whose dark blond hair was cut in a bob, shorter in the back than the sides, and who wore a long madras-print top, tights and short suede boots, said, “I like that you eloped. Wedding preparations are such a killer. I think George and I might do the same thing, but—” she looked at Mac “—at least we’d tell people.”

  He stopped chewing. “I said I was sorry. What more can I say?”

  Catherine raised a hand to shush the others. “As long as you two are happy,” she said. “That’s what’s important.” She opened her black leather purse and took out a small electronic device and began tapping buttons. “And as long as we have a nice reception, a big wedding really isn’t all that necessary.” She turned her focus on Maggie. “But really, dear, I think one elopement in the family is enough.”

  The frittata might have been tasty, but when she heard the part about a nice reception, the food in Natalia’s mouth suddenly seemed like cardboard.

  “We haven’t had time to plan a reception, Mom,” Mac said. “And frankly, with all the things we have to do to get ready for D.J., I don’t think there will be any time to do it.”

  A long silence ensued, until Catherine asked stiffly, “Is that why you got marr—”

  He slammed a hand on the table. His mother jumped, then looked from him to Natalia.

  He gently took Natalia’s hand. “We’ve been together a long time. Getting married was the next logical step. And now I’m going to pretend that you’re all very happy for us.”

  His mother looked contrite—for about two seconds. “We are, dear. And that’s why I’m going to plan a nice reception for the two of you.” She reached to pat Natalia’s hand. “I know how busy the two of you are with flying all over, and now with D.J. coming, it’s the least I can do.”

  “No, Mom. You can’t.”

  Catherine’s smile turned to a scowl. “Why not?”

  Mac looked at Natalia, his expression screaming, Help!

  She gave a slight shrug. How could she help? How could she tell his mother she couldn’t do something? Any mom would be upset if her only son got married and didn’t even tell her. Besides, explaining to his mother was Mac’s job, and he should have told her, dammit. He should have told all of them about the marriage beforehand.

>   Ironically, Natalia had told Serena she’d plan her and Cole’s wedding. But there was a difference. She knew what Serena wanted.

  “It’s too much work,” Mac finally said. “That’s why. I don’t want you going to all that bother. And…” He paused, as if struggling for more reasons to cement his case. “And we don’t want people buying us presents and all that stuff. We don’t need anything and we don’t want friends to feel obligated.”

  Good. That was good.

  Catherine raised her chin. “Not a problem. We just let them know that on the invitation.”

  “We’ll help, too,” Maggie said, then reached to touch her brother’s arm. “It’s a wonderful, happy occasion. The kind you want to share with family and friends.”

  Catherine added, “We’d love to meet your family, Natalia.”

  Her tone was sweet and sincere, and Natalia could barely swallow her last mouthful of frittata. Catherine was a mother feeling left out of her only son’s supposedly happiest moment. She couldn’t blame her for feeling as she did. But Natalia had no intention of telling her parents anything. And it wouldn’t matter to them if she did.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s going to be possible. They…my parents…they’re out of town, and—”

  “They’re very happy for us,” Mac interrupted. “Our friends will be happy for us, too. But we eloped for a reason. Let’s not make a big, huge deal out of this.”

  The room fell silent. But only for a moment.

  “Fine. No big deal. A small, intimate party then.” Catherine was smiling, but icicles could’ve hung from her words.

  Mac slumped against the back of his chair and turned to Natalia. “I think we’re outnumbered, sweetheart.”

  She put her napkin on the table and pasted on a faux smile. “I think you’re right.”

  Mac’s sisters began talking all at once and the room started to heat up like a sauna. Their faces began to run together in front of Natalia’s eyes. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  She shook it off, glanced at her watch, and at the same time pushed her chair back. “I’m sorry, but I have to get dressed and leave. I have an appointment.”