The dog looked at him reproachfully, and so did Jenny.
“Why,” Michael asked carefully, still buying time, “are you calling him Socks? Is he wearing a collar?”
“No collar. You should see his ribs.” She held the dog closer, as if he needed protecting. “He’s truly a stray. No one wants this dog.”
Michael could see exactly why.
“Then why Socks?”
“He has white socks. Or they might be white after a bath. And he reminds me of a dog I had as a kid.”
“You had a dog like this?”
“Well, no.” Jenny broke into an involuntary chuckle. “Socks One was a basset hound. But he looked at me the same as Socks Two.” Her smile died, and she stared over the river. “My aunt had Socks One put down when my parents died.”
“When was that?” Michael asked, startled. He knew nothing about this woman, he realized. Nothing!
“When I was ten.”
“Your parents died when you were ten?”
“Mmm. In a car crash. I lost them-and then I lost Socks.”
His heart twisted, and he put a hand on her shoulder. Socks looked up as if he wasn’t the least bit sure he wanted to share, but Michael wasn’t in the mood for dealing with a jealous dog, especially one with ears like this. “I’m sorry, Jen,” he told her, and she shrugged.
“Things happen. I guess you know that as well as anyone. You were adopted, too.”
“So your aunt adopted you?”
“Sort of.” Jenny’s tone changed, hardened. “My parents left me a house, you see, so my aunt and her boyfriend moved in. They took over my life, and that was the end of Socks. They had him put down. It was also the end of my house. I was shunted off to boarding school, the house somehow got sold, and the funds disappeared into never-never land.”
“Oh, Jen…”
“You had better luck with your adoptive parents, though.”
“Yeah.” Michael thought back to his childhood. There was no chance of a dog like Socks being put down in the Lord household. If anything, there’d been pets to spare. There was certainly love to spare.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And Lana says your birth mother loved you.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.” His voice hardened. “I know nothing about her.”
“And you don’t want to know?”
“The past is history. There’s no need to rake it up.”
“It stays with you, though,” she said softly, staring again at the river. Socks stared with her. Four reproachful eyes. “You can’t let it go completely. If my parents hadn’t loved me, and if I hadn’t known that and remembered it in the bad times, then I don’t think I could have gone on. It’s part of who I am.”
“It’s dead and buried.” His voice was unnecessarily harsh, and he bit his lip, but Jenny looked bleak.
“Is it?”
“It has to be.”
“Dead and buried.” She took a jagged breath. “I just wish it was,” she said bleakly, her face twisting in remembered pain. Her voice cracked, then she seemed to catch herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Jenny, what’s wrong?” He stared, puzzled, but she shrugged, pushing away remembered nightmares.
She took a deep breath. “No, that’s enough of that. I’m just- I was thinking of something I told Peter. But I don’t know what I’m thinking of now. You’ve come down here in the dark just to find me, and here I’ve taken your coat without even asking.” She made as if to pull it off, but he stopped her. The dog whimpered against her, as if expecting to be hauled out and thrust away. His big ears disappeared inside the coat. Socks was staying put.
But Michael was no longer thinking of Socks. “Why did you come down here?” he asked gently, watching her face. The emotion in her eyes was tearing at something deep in his gut. She was so lost, so at sea.
“I came out for a walk to try to decide what to do,” she said with quiet dignity. She had herself in hand again. “I can’t figure how we can stay together in your town house. It’s crazy.”
“There’s no choice.”
“There is. I just need to find another place to stay, somewhere Gloria can’t find me. Then if immigration comes, you can contact me.”
He thought this through and found an immediate flaw. Or rather, the flaw was looking at him again. “You intend on taking Socks with you?”
“I…” She faltered. “I guess I’ll find a place where I can take him.”
“There’s no landlord that’ll take a dog like this.”
“I don’t need to stay in the city,” she said calmly, as if this was a decision she’d made hours ago. “I can go out into the country somewhere. Get a place to stay on a farm or something.”
“Oh, sure,” he mocked. “Farms take in dogs like Socks all the time. And you can always race from a farm to my place at a moment’s notice when immigration officials arrive asking questions. They were here tonight.”
“Here!” Her eyes widened. “You mean at your home?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, Michael.”
“It’s okay,” he said, flinching at the fear in her eyes. “They think you’re safely in bed. In my bed. They had no right to search, and I didn’t let them in. But if you think you can stay someplace else…”
“I must be able to,” she said in distress. “I must!” The fear was still there, with a hint of something else. The knowledge of being trapped?
That was pretty much how he was feeling, Michael acknowledged bleakly. Claustrophobic. Closed in. Hell, they’d done this in such a rush they hadn’t thought it through.
But if he’d had time, would he have acted differently? Michael found himself searching his heart as he watched the misery on her face. Would he have done the same thing? Or would he have waved her off to Mexico alone, to face childbirth and her future with nothing and nobody?
No way! He saw the courage in her eyes and knew he would do no such thing. He’d hurt her this afternoon, he’d hurt her badly. She’d come here to try to figure out a way to get out of his life-for his sake, not her own. Here she was, distress on her face, and it was all on his account, not hers. He’d caused it by showing her how unhappy he was with their situation.
“Hey, Jen.” Reaching out, he touched her face. It was cool, as if the damp and fog had penetrated. She gave an involuntary shiver, and he flinched. Guilt swept in like a physical kick in the rear. Hell, he was being a total jerk. He’d suggested this. He’d married Jenny, despite her doubts. His sense of honor was telling him to accept that fact and move on.
“Come on, Jenny,” he said gently. “Let’s take Socks to the pound and get you home.”
The fear and distress changed in an instant. Her eyes searched his, and her mouth tightened to stubbornness. “No, Michael, I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“Socks is not going to the pound. I’m sorry, but…”
“You’re not seriously suggesting we keep him? Jenny, that’s impossible.”
“I am keeping him.”
“But…”
“If you won’t let me move to the country, and if I have to stay with you, then I’m sorry, but he’ll have to stay with us, too.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, I know I’m being a pest and I know you don’t want me to stay, but you’re out all day. He won’t cause any trouble. You’ll see. You’ll hardly know he’s there. And it’s only for the next few weeks…while I need to stay.”
“Jenny, I am not a dog person.”
“You’re kidding.” She put her hand down and brought the dog’s face out from where it had been pressed against her breast. Gently, she raised it so those great brown eyes were looking straight at Michael. He stared down and tried to look away-and couldn’t.
“How can you say you’re not a dog person?” she asked reproachfully. “You look Socks in the eye and tell me that. He’s the most wonderful dog.”
“You know nothing about him.” Michael glared, and the dog-Socks-looked soulfully back. “He’s probably vicious.”