Chapter 11


"We had a wedding at my house today, Mister Reese." Hope scratched Sadie between the ears, and the dog's tail thumped happily against the porch steps as the little girl slid her arms around its neck to press her cheek against the golden fur.

"You should have come." Kay's voice was soft, a mere whisper beneath the evening song of the crickets, too soft she thought in the long moments it took Reese to acknowledge that she had even spoken at all. Turning her body so that she faced Reese more fully, she leaned her back against the porch railing and brought her knees to her chest, regarding him with unspoken questions in her eyes.

"Yeah," Hope twisted her neck to shoot a grin in Reese's general direction. "Uncle Hank called it a half-cocked shotgun wedding."

Kay covered her eyes from Reese's view with a small groan as Hope continued.

"But I don't remember seeing any guns." Hope's grin morphed into a thoughtful frown as she considered the incongruity of it all, and she failed to notice the twinkling of Reese's blue eyes behind his glasses or the amused smile that her sister couldn't tamp down. "Where were you, Mister Reese?"

Hope's curiosity-laden question jolted Kay back into responsible older sister mode. "Hope Bennett, that's none of your business!"

"It's all right," Reese finally spoke for the first time since they'd arrived at his doorstep over a half hour earlier under the pretense that Hope just had to visit Sadie or die a horrible death from missing her.

Recalling her kid sister's melodramatic pleas even now put a smile on Kay's lips, and she half-shrugged at Reese apologetically, not daring to admit to herself that she shared some of Hope's curiosity.

"Someone came to look at the house," Reese told them, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

"They weren't interested were they?" The question escaped Kay's mouth without her permission, and ducking her head in embarrassment, she backpedaled furiously, thankful for the twilight that hid her cheeks' blush. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. You just…the FOR SALE sign is still there, and I just thought…" she trailed off awkwardly, blessing Hope for choosing that moment to blurt another probing question, even if the subject inexplicably made her feel as if a ball of lead were settling in the bottom of her stomach.

"How come Sara's not here? Did she have to go home to her house?"

Squatting down in front of Hope, Reese reached out to ruffle Sadie's gleaming coat. "She had to go back to school."

"School?" Hope's nose crinkled in disgust, the connotation of the word for her not a positive one as it inevitably took Kay away from her for long stretches of time that felt interminable in her little girl view. "I'm never going to school. Ever."

"Ever's a long time," Reese stated thoughtfully as he lowered himself to the step alongside Hope, Sadie content between them.

"I'm a Bennett," Hope shrugged. "Tell him, Kay."

Chin propped in her hand, Kay delivered the oft-repeated saying with a quirk of her lips. "Once a Bennett sets her mind on something, it takes an act of Congress or God to change it. Least that's what Dad says."

Reese seemed to carefully digest her words before returning his full attention back to Hope. "Tell me more about this wedding."


The house was much too quiet without Hope in it, Grace realized, looking around and finding her heart hurting with the discovery of so much…emptiness.

Jessica was gone—her middle daughter catching a late bus back to school and the place Grace knew she now thought of as home, and the last guests from the wedding, Charity and Miguel, had left nearly an hour ago with Pilar. They planned to stay with her in the long, lonely night ahead, delaying their own departure until morning.

The thought of asking them to spend the night here, in this house instead, had occurred to Grace, but the notion had quickly faded, leaving her cold over her own selfishness; now she busied herself with the mundane task of clearing and cleaning up the kitchen to chase the residual guilt away.

"Use some help?" Sam hovered in the doorway, his arms crossed across his middle, waiting for her answer. Taking her slight nod as his cue, he advanced deeper into the room, his elbow brushing against her arm as he came to a stop beside her and picked up the clean dish towel from the kitchen countertop. Rubbing the plate she handed him until it shined, he worked in silence, and if he noticed how she stiffened at the innocent touch of his skin against her own, he didn't acknowledge it.

Grace willed her racing heart to slow down and forced her hands to remain steady as they fell into a routine borne in the early years of their marriage, she washing, he drying.

"We have a dishwasher, you know," Sam remarked as he took another plate from her hands.

Grace's shoulders tensed at his comment. Always, and Sam knew it well, she washed the dishes by hand when something was bothering her. It may seem silly to other people, but she'd worked out many a frustration during their twenty-plus year marriage at this sink. Ivy Crane's simple presence, no matter how fiercely she had tried to pretend otherwise today, was the biggest frustration of all. "Sam, you don't have to…"

Sam cut her off with a strong hand on her arm, gently turning her to face him. "Grace, I know Ivy being here today upset you."

Grace avoided his intense gaze, focusing instead on her feet. "Water's dripping all over the floor, Sam," she told him, pulling her arm free of his hand and trying to turn away from him again.

"It's water," Sam snapped in exasperation, trapping her with his arms. "I'll clean it up later," he added in a softer tone. "Grace, we need to talk. Grace," he implored. "Look at me." His hands moved to rest on her hips, and he ducked his head to try to look in her eyes.

His hands on her were so familiar, his scent one she could pick out in a crowded room. Grace felt the weight of the distance she'd forced between them come crashing down on her shoulders, and suddenly, it was too much. Tears filled her eyes as she finally honored his request, and her lips trembled when his hand came up to cup her jaw. "I'm not upset, Sam. I…"

Sam's other hand rose of its own volition, and he cupped her face in the palms of his hands. "You're lying. Be honest with me, Grace," he said, sighing regretfully when his words had an unintended effect, and she recoiled from his touch, shrugging away from his attempts to keep her close.

Grace's laugh was hollow as she held her husband off with a staving hand. "*You're* telling *me* to be honest?"

"Grace," Sam protested, but this time she was the one to cut him off.

"No. No," Grace shook her head firmly. "You have some nerve, pleading with me for honesty, when it was your own dishonesty that brought us to this…" she swept her hands out at a momentary loss for words, "this place we're in right now."

"I'll admit I made the first mistake in not telling you about my past with Ivy," Sam's blue eyes glittered with anger, "but you can't put the sole blame on me for the state of our marriage right now, Grace. You can't. You're just as much to blame as I am. Only you refuse to take the responsibility for your actions." The small measure of satisfaction Sam felt at finally getting those words off of his chest was instantly dwarfed by the ever-present guilt that consumed him whenever he witnessed that flicker of hurt in her blue eyes. He lowered his voice to a pained whisper. "We can't go on like this, Grace. It isn't fair to either one of us, and it sure as hell isn't fair to the kids."

"What are you saying, Sam?" Grace cried, the dread at his answer making it difficult to get the question out over the lump lodged in her throat.

Sam's answer was weary, hardly an answer at all. "I don't know what I'm saying, Grace. I don't know anything anymore."

"Let me make it easy for you then, and ask the question nobody wants to ask." Grace's voice was quiet, and now it was Sam who avoided her eyes. "Sam," she began, unaware of their audience hovering in the same doorway Sam had occupied earlier.

"Grace, don't," Sam pleaded, watching as Kay tried without success to coax Hope back into the living room but the little girl's feet stayed stubbornly rooted to the floor.

But Grace continued, oblivious still to the little ears listening, and it was too late, the question hanging heavily in the air.

"Do you want a divorce?"


It was still early, it'd take a couple hours yet for Jake's to live up to its status as the busiest bar in Harmony, but a few people milled about inside getting a head-start on the rush.

"What a surprise to see you here," Hank smirked as he eased himself onto the barstool next to one patron in particular.

A few tendrils of blond hair had escaped from their pins, curling slightly in the humid atmosphere, and brown eyes narrowed at him over the top of her glass. "I'm not front page material anymore. Why not? What are *you* doing here?"

Sheridan had freely offered up her cottage to him, but without her there, it seemed wrong for him to stay. Staying at the Bed and Breakfast would be too much like spying since Luis and Sheridan were making it their temporary home until something more suitable came along, and Hank didn't feel much like checking into a cheap motel, which somehow added up to his being here, in Jake's, without a place to crash and without a plan for his foreseeable future, except taking too much enjoyment out of bugging the blond socialite beside him. Wait, he corrected himself silently. The jilted debutante, who looked to be well on her way to living up to her reputation. "How many of those have you had to drink?" he indicated the glass at her lips.

"None of your damn business."

The instant, smart-assed reply made Hank grin, and he hailed the bartender over. "I'll have what she's having. Keep 'em coming," he said, laying down a wad of cash that made Gwen's brows raise in surprise. "What?" he held up his hands defensively. "Can't let you have all the fun."

A few drinks later, equally dispersed between the two of them, Gwen twisted on her barstool to face him, their knees bumping awkwardly. A wry smile on her lips, she made an accusation that hit a little too close to home. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Nursing the beer in his hand, Hank laughed her off, lifting a hand and ordering them another round.

"Admit it," Gwen leaned in close, resting her hand on his thigh for balance as she searched his brown eyes for the truth he wouldn't say.

Finally, Hank gave her a non-answer, picking at the peeling label on his bottle. "She's in love with *him*, always has been, always will be." Sliding another bottle in Gwen's direction, he finished off the beer in his hand. He arched a teasing brow at her when she spoke again, her voice just the slightest bit incredulous with discovery.

"You're trying to get me drunk."

"Who says I have to try?" he said, and his eyes drifted to where her hand still rested on his thigh. He grinned at her belated realization of its location and the way she snatched her hand back and decided to risk wearing a tattoo of her hand on his cheek with his next comment. "Babe, you're doing all the work for me."

Gwen leaned back, crossing her arms across her middle and letting the new beer bottle dangle from her fingers as she regarded him coolly. "Why? What possible reason…"

Hank watched her jump to conclusions, enjoying the newfound fire in her brown eyes. He just continued to grin as she started railing at him, her beer bottle hitting the bar with a resounding thud.

"No. No way. Not in a million years," Gwen vowed.

"Why not?" Hank asked, unashamedly admitting to himself that the idea gained more appeal by the second, especially (and Sam—hell, Luis too—would call him on his perverse logic if he were here) after witnessing the passion with which she refused the very suggestion.

"Why not?" Gwen was aghast. She tried to get up, to leave, but the smallness of the space between the barstools worked to her disadvantage, and she found herself trapped, Hank's arm handily blocking her exit. She sucked in a deep breath of surprise when she realized his other hand was resting on her hip.

Hank wanted to laugh at the shiver she couldn't suppress, but he knew that move might earn him a strategically placed knee. Schooling his features into a perfectly calm, expectant expression, he waited for her to calm down and give his proposition some more thought. Her second round of protests, thankfully, was much more subdued, halfhearted even.

"How could it possibly be a good idea for me and you to…we're both in love with other people," Gwen stated the obvious.

Hank shrugged, his thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns against her hip. "She's married. And he's dead." The reminder came out more gently than he'd intended. "Maybe it's not the best idea," he acknowledged. "But it's a better idea than drinking ourselves to oblivion." His other hand dropped to her waist, and he gave her a hopeful look, the smirk returning to his mouth when he felt her lean into his touch, just slightly. "Come on, Babe. What do you say?"

Snagging the beer bottle from the bar and slinking out of his arms, Gwen paused just a few steps away, her voice barely audible over the increasing crowds of people milling around them. "Get your ass in gear, Bennett, before I change my mind."

Nearly stumbling in his haste to catch up with her, Hank drawled, "Yes, Ma'am."


Sheridan let the curtain drift closed with a sigh, wrapping her arms protectively around her and resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window. Moonlight washed over her in a silver glow until a sliver of yellow replaced it, and Luis's towel-clad image was reflected before her. She felt her heart beat faster when his footsteps approached and her senses were filled with his clean scent. Dragging her lip between her teeth, she worked up enough courage to turn around and face her new husband.

Crisp white towel knotted around his waist, Luis rubbed vigorously at his wet hair with another towel, frowning slightly when his eyes met hers.

"Maybe it would be better if I moved my things into the extra room at the end of the hall," Sheridan suggested, remembering the other room Grace had talked about before fitting the key to this room into her palm. She watched as Luis's brows knit more tightly together, and his dark eyes sparked at her.

"No," Luis dismissed the idea, turning from her and bending at the waist to pull a pair of pajama bottoms from the open suitcase on the floor. "We already talked about this, Sheridan," he said, giving her a significant look as his fingers worked at the knot in the towel.

Heat filled Sheridan's veins as she whirled around, and she clasped her hands together, worrying the ring on her finger, a family heirloom he'd surprised her with during the wedding ceremony. The words he'd whispered to her after, just before he'd pressed his mouth to hers in a short, hard kiss, echoed in her mind before Luis even repeated them.

"We have to make this look real," Luis's voice sounded closer.

Sheridan jumped as he reached around her to turn the bedside lamp on.

Luis looked at her oddly. "You okay?" he asked, padding across the room to turn on the television in the corner. He turned it back off without waiting to hear what was being said when their images flashed across the local newscast. "This is only temporary," he reminded her, pulling a pillow from the bed and tossing it into the floor, where the beginnings of a makeshift bed lay. "Once we find a place, we'll have our own rooms. You won't have to pretend you can stand the sight of my face anymore."

Anger welled up inside Sheridan at the thought that he was deliberately baiting her, but she tamped it down, taking a calming breath before she steered the subject back into what she thought was more neutral ground. "I've had my real estate agent draw up a list of available properties fitting our requirements," she knelt before her own suitcases, withdrawing a bulging folder from one and standing back up to offer it to him with a proud smile. The smile on her face fell when he scanned through the folder's pages, abruptly thrusting it back into her hands with a black scowl.

"No. These are all wrong."

Sheridan's mouth dropped open in shock for a moment before her earlier anger returned tenfold and her blue eyes flashed fire at him. "What do you mean they're all wrong? Each of them has at least three bedrooms, one for each of us. All of them have big, open yards so Anna will have lots of room to play; a couple of them are even within walking distance of Lighthouse Park. I made sure all of them were within a reasonable distance from the police station," her voice escalated as she ticked off reason after reason on her fingers without a change in his obstinately held demeanor. "They're near the best schools, the best daycare centers, the safest neighborhoods. How can they possibly be all wrong?"

The expression on Luis's face grew even darker, and the fire in his eyes flamed to match hers. "The safest neighborhoods?" he scoffed. "You're talking about the neighborhoods on the other side of the tracks, right?"

"No. No," Sheridan repeated more vehemently as soon as she realized his implication. "That's not what I meant at all," she objected.

Luis yanked the folder back from her hands and opened it, running his finger down the first page. "Two miles from the Harmony Country Club." He flipped a couple of pages further, and his mouth was drawn in a mean line as he said, "These two aren't that far from the Seascape. This one," he flipped to the last page and ripped it out to wave it in front of her face, "is practically in Alistair's backyard." He tossed the piece of paper at her and rounded on his heels, pacing the confines of their room like an angry tiger, before advancing on her, backing her up until the sharp edges of the antique vanity bit into her flesh and made her wince.

There was real menace in his eyes mixed with the vaguest shadows of hurt pride, and Sheridan found herself wanting to apologize, but her stunned mind lacked the words. She placed one hand on his bare chest to stop his advance, and the other fumbled behind her for purchase. She vaguely recognized the distant sound of shattering glass as he spoke again.

"Let's get something straight right now," Luis growled. "Anna is not going to grow up into a spoiled rich princess too good to mix company with the people on the other side of the tracks. My people," he emphasized. "People like Mama and Sam and T.C.—people like Theresa."

Sheridan felt her throat grow tight at the enormity of his misunderstanding of her intent and her feelings. "Luis, I didn't mean…"

"No," Luis stopped her with a finger to her lips. "This little charade doesn't have a chance in hell at working if all you're interested in is erasing that side of who Anna is, if you're not able to accept who she is." The fight and the fury left his eyes, and they become unreadable as he watched her shakily stoop before him to gather up the shattered pieces of glass, the scent of the spilled perfume permeating the air around them only then reaching his nose. "Leave it," he sighed, crouching down close beside her and stilling her trembling hands with his own before she accidentally cut herself on the jagged shards.

Sheridan didn't trust herself to look up at him so she kept her eyes focused on their hands, her throat closing up at the matching wedding bands. Grateful for the welcome distraction of a rapping knock at the door, she slowly rose to her feet without a word. She felt more than heard Luis's solid presence behind her as she answered the door and choked back a gasp at what she saw.

Julian stood before them, a dark-curled child sleeping in his awkward embrace.


Thanks so much, Victoria and Shaun, for your wonderful feedback (omg, I have two reviewers, lol); I can't tell you how much it is truly appreciated.

Victoria, I am glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Shaun, it's great to see you're back. :) I'm excited you're enjoying Hope (especially considering she's an UA original), and I'm also glad to hear/read what you've said about Gwen and Ivy.

So, girls...what did you think of this chapter?

First, Hope and her propensity for telling on the grown-ups in her life with her babbling, honest little mouth, lol. Almost makes you feel sorry for Kay, huh?

Hehe.

And, switching gears a little bit, Grace's really hurting. Is she being fair to Sam? He did keep an important part of his life secret from her. Not just the revelation of his past with Ivy, but the discovery that her husband had fathered another son (a first-born son at that, when she thought she had given him that) had to have stung. And to be pregnant herself when the cat got let out of the bag? I'm just saying...

Your thoughts?

Gwen and Hank? Did you see it coming? If you've read any of my other fics, it probably wasn't a complete surprise. ;) They both love other people, and one could argue neither are in their right minds. Still...

:D

Finally, the newlyweds. Can you feel the tension? You're right about one thing, Shaun. They're both stubborn as mules, particularly Luis. A little harsh, wasn't he?

What did you think of that ending?

Finally, we can really say, Anna Begins.

LOL!

Feedback is adored and super-inspirational.

Thanks so much for reading!