Chapter Eleven.

That night, Hank went to see his parents. Despite his familiarity with their suburban home, he had a surreal feeling as he sat down at the oval kitchen table. His mother sat across from him. His father took a chair to his right.

"Are you sure I can't get you something?" Mary asked. "Tea only takes a minute, and the coffee's still fresh."

Hank's nerves were already raw. He didn't need a jolt of caffeine to stretch them tighter. He settled back on the oak chair. "No thanks. I'm fine."

Mary took a sip of tea from a dainty little cup with gold at the fluted edge. "It's lovely that you stopped by. We haven't seen much of you lately."

"It's a busy time of year. Jake and I are still imprinting the spring foals, and we had four new horses brought to us this week for behavior modification." Hank's gaze shifted to the section of wall next to the window where six handprints were encased in aged plaster, one belonging to each of the Coulter brood. Looking at his own, Hank found it difficult to believe that he'd ever been that small. It occurred to him that one day soon, he might have his child's handprint hanging in the kitchen. "Things will slow down here shortly."

"I hope so. You and Jake work too hard."

Hank tried to think of a gentle way to tell his parents his news. While he discarded one idea after another, the old teapot clock on the wall behind him seemed to tick more loudly with each passing second.

"I have something I need to tell you. Prepare yourselves for a shock."

Mary sat more erect. Harv scowled, staring at Hank with those all-seeing, laser-blue eyes that had always unnerved him as a kid.

"I don't know how to work my way up to this, so I'll say it straight out." Hank waited a beat, and then he dropped it on them. "I'm getting married Friday."

Hank's parents stared at him incredulously. His mother, a small, plump woman with dark hair barely touched with gray, carefully set her teacup on its saucer, glanced at her husband, and smiled uncertainly.

"I'm sorry," she said with a laugh. "My ears are getting so bad these days. I could have sworn you said you're getting married."

Hank nodded. "You heard me right."

"I didn't know you were even dating anyone exclusively."

Hank hadn't lied to his folks since childhood, and he didn't want to now. "These things happen quickly sometimes."

"On Friday, did you say?" Mary touched a hand to her throat, and her eyes went soft and shiny. "This is so sudden."

"I know it must seem that way. I'm sorry for not giving you more warning."

Harv patted his shirt pocket for the cigarettes he'd discarded four years ago. "Howlong have you known this woman, son?""Long enough," Hank replied evasively."Do you love her?" his mother asked. Then she laughed. "Silly question. You wouldn't be marrying her if you didn't."If only they knew. Hank was grateful that his mother had answered her own question. If he could avoid it, he preferred not to get into the particulars of hisrelationship with Carly.A frown pleated Mary's brow. "Friday, did you say? This Friday?" At Hank's nod, she said, "My goodness, that only gives us three days."

"We're keeping it simple, Mom. She has no family here. Just a civil ceremony with nofrills."Mary looked crestfallen. "Surely you won't mind if I give a reception. We can do it here. What kind of wedding will it be with no celebration afterward?"

"Carly and I don't really want a reception. We're, um-well, it's sort of sudden, andwe want to avoid a bunch of fuss and-"Hank's father broke in with, "Weddings aren't solely for the bride and groom.

They're for the family as well. If your mother wants to have a small reception, I see

no reason why she shouldn't."Determined to be the winner of this debate, Hank tried to think of an argument thatwould satisfy both his parents. Nada. Then he made the mistake of glancing at hismother. Her eyes were filling with tears.

"You'll only get married once," she said shakily.Not necessarily. But Hank preferred not to get into that, either."I want to do something special to mark the occasion. You're our son."How was a guy supposed to stand firm when his mother was about to cry? Hank took off his hat and set it on the chair next to him. Damn. He could hold his own with men. Somehow, it was never so easy with women, and now he had two of them to please.

"It's bad enough that it'll be a civil ceremony," Mary went on, her voice growing more taut with each word. "But to not even celebrate with a reception afterward? We'll have no pictures, no wonderful memories to share as a family."

Under the table, Hank's dad gave him a nudge with his boot. Hank knew when he was licked and held up a hand. "Mom?" Mary just kept talking. "Mother? Whoa! Will you give me a chance to say something?"

Mary fell silent, her expression accusing. He had clearly just earned the honor of being the only son who'd ever broken her heart.

"If I say yes to a reception, will you give me your solemn oath to keep it very, very simple?"

Mary nodded. "Simple will be fine. I can do simple."

"All right, then," Hank conceded. "But it has to be small with only family members in attendance. Agreed?"

Mary immediately brightened. "Small is good. I can do that." She blinked her tears away and wiped one cheek. "It'll be more intimate that way." She sniffed and rubbed under her other eye. "I'm sorry. It's not every day our son gets married! I can't imagine treating it like any other day."

Hank had already read that, loud and clear. As long as his mom kept it simple, he guessed a reception wouldn't be so bad.

"Carly, did you say? That's a darling name." Mary sniffed again. "When will we get to meet her?"

Hank rubbed his jaw. "She'll be pretty busy all this week, packing and getting ready for the ceremony. You'll probably have to wait to meet her the day of the wedding."

"That's a shame."

Hank agreed, but he didn't want to throw too much at Carly all at once. There'd be plenty of time after the nuptials for his family to get to know her.

Hank fiddled with the bean mosaic that graced the center of the table. He'd made it for Mother's Day eons ago. His dad had coated it with a fiberglass resin to protect the design, an off-center, cross-eyed rooster with a spiky comb made of brown rice. The poor bird looked as if it had just been knocked silly with a tack hammer.

"What does she look like?" Mary asked.

Hank thought for a moment. "Blond, pretty." He felt his father's gaze sharpen. "Not the flashy type. Her hair is naturally blond, honey gold with darker streaks. She wears no makeup, near as I can tell. If I were to describe her in just a few words, I'd say she's more the church angel type-like the ones you see painted on chapel ceilings."

Harv relaxed. Mary beamed. "She sounds lovely."

She grabbed a pen and paper from the telephone stand and began jotting down notes. Glancing up at Hank, she said, "We'll have to invite the Kendricks."

Hank imagined the living room of his parents' home crammed with people. "Except for Ryan, the Kendricks aren't really family, Mom."

"Close enough. Your sister, Bethany, is a Kendrick now. They'll be sure to hear about the wedding from Ryan." She began drawing up a list, which grew to alarming proportions even as Hank watched. "And we can't exclude Molly's parents."

Hank threw a pleading look at his dad. Harv's mouth twitched. "Molly's mom and stepfather might not make it down, sweetheart. They'll have to drive clear from Portland, and we aren't givin' 'em much notice."

Hank prayed his father was right. If fifty people showed up for the ceremony, how would he explain it to Carly? "I really think it'd be better if we include only immediate family. I've got four brothers and a sister, two of them married with kids. The JP's office won't hold all of us, let alone all our in-laws and shirt-tail relatives."

"Don't worry about a thing," Mary said. "Just leave the details to me."

That was what worried Hank, the details. Why did women have to complicate everything?

Mary glanced up at her husband. "We can't exclude Sly and Helen."

Harv angled a look at Hank. "Nope, I don't guess we can."

Mary dimpled a cheek. "Our Hank, getting married. Can you believe it, Harv? When he said he had to tell us something, that was the last thing I expected him to say."

"It came as a surprise, all right." Harv pushed up from the kitchen table. "Hank, while your mother works up an invite list, can you step out to the garage with me for a minute? I want to show you something."

Hank knew what that meant and braced for an interrogation as he followed his father outside. Harv didn't disappoint him. Once the fire door swung shut behind them, he pitched his voice low and asked, "What the hell is goin' on?"

"Nothing's going on, Dad. I'm just getting hitched is all."

"Far as I know, you haven't been dating one woman steady. Now you walk in here, big as you please, and announce that you're gettin' married?"

"Well, Dad-"

"Save the bullshit for your mother. She buys it. I want it straight."

Hank gave it to him straight, telling his father the entire story, including how he'd coerced Carly into marrying him. About halfway through the recounting, Harv sank onto a milk can, one of Bethany's tole painting projects in progress. Toward the end of the story, the older man's jaw muscle had started to ripple, a sure sign that he was clenching his teeth. His blue eyes flashed with anger.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Hank said when he'd told his father everything. "I know I've disappointed you."

"It's not my proudest moment as a father. I raised you better."

"If it's any comfort, I've learned a hard lesson. Mom kept warning me that sooner or later, someone would get hurt. She was right, only it wasn't me. No matter how it turns out between me and Carly, I'll never do the bar scene again."

"Is that what they call it now?" His father sat erect. "The bar scene? Seems to me a mighty polite term for drinking, carousing, and popping cherries in the back seat of pickup trucks."

Hank couldn't think of a single word to say in his own defense. His eyes burned as he met his father's sharp gaze. "You know the worst part?"

"No, what?" Harv asked.

Hank's throat went tight. "She's everything I would have chosen in a wife if I'd had the brains to go looking. She's sweet and beautiful and kind with just enough sass and vinegar tossed in to keep me guessing." He sighed and kicked at a dry leaf that had blown in from the yard last fall. "Every time I look at her, I wonder how I could have thought she was a run-of-the-mill barfly. Not knowing she was a virgin, I wasn't concerned about being extra careful. I hurt her, I'm sure. She's wary of me now."

"As slick as you are with nervous fillies, I'm not too worried on that count. You'll find a way to settle her down."

Hank wasn't so sure about that. "Maybe."

Harv pushed wearily to his feet. Hank kept waiting for him to say, "I told you so," or to rant and rave for a while, Instead Harv clasped Hank's shoulders, looked him directly in the eye, and smiled, albeit sadly.

"I wish you'd never put the poor girl in a position like this. I won't pretend otherwise. But, given the fact that you have, I'm proud of you for facing up to your responsibilities."

It was the last thing Hank expected him to say. "It's my baby, Dad. No question about it. This pregnancy will ruin her life if I don't step up to the plate."

"A lot of men would still run like hell."

"I was taught better."

Harv nodded. "Ordinarily, I'd never approve of you coercing her into marriage, but nothing about her situation sounds ordinary."

That was an understatement if ever Hank had heard one.

Harv sighed. Then he patted Hank's arm. "She'll have plenty of family to support her from now on."

Hank glanced at the door that opened onto the kitchen. "Yeah, plenty of family."

In the not so distant past, Hank had resented the large, close-knit Coulter clan. But now he was glad of it. His mom would take Carly under her wing and be wonderful to her. He could also count on Jake and Molly to make her feel welcome at the ranch. Carly might feel a little overwhelmed at first, but Hank was convinced that she'd soon love his family almost as much as he did.

"She'll also have a good man at her side," Harv said softly.

The comment surprised Hank. He gave his father a questioning look.

Harv bent his head and took a turn at kicking the leaf. "Raisin' sons, a man's got a tendency to paint himself better than he is, tryin' his damnedest to set a good example. I made my mistakes, things I never talked about in front of you boys." He glanced up, looking sheepish. "Tossed a number of skirts, sowed my wild oats. Didn't want to get married. Couldn't picture myself with a passel of kids to support. No way, not me. Then I met your mama." He winked. "Fell in love with her at first glance and spent the next few months takin' cold showers. She was a nice girl, not the kind to get her skirt tossed without a ring on her finger. Wasn't nothin' for it but to marry her. Her daddy had conniption fits. Said I was a good-for-nothin' scalawag who'd do her wrong. Wouldn't give us his blessing. He was mad as hops when we ran off and got married anyway."

"Grandpa McBride didn't like you?" Hank asked incredulously.

Harv chuckled. "Wasn't nothing to like. He was right; I was a good-for-nothin' scalawag." He jabbed Hank's chest with a rigid finger. "Took lovin' a good woman to straighten me up, and she's kept me dancin' to her tune ever since. Your grandpa McBride grew to respect me. By the time Jake came along, he and I got along fine. Did until the day he died." Harv's mouth twitched. "His last words to me were, 'You treat my Mary right, or I swear, boy, I'll come back from the grave and kick your ass.' "

Hank laughed, still finding it difficult to believe that his father had ever been a skirt chaser.

Harv narrowed his eyes. "Seeing as how Carly's daddy isn't here to say it, I will. Treat her right. If you don't, I'll kick your ass."

"No worries, Dad. My scalawag days are over. Soon, I'll be raising a child and painting myself better than I am, too."

"I know you will," Harv said with a nod. "I raised you, didn't I?"

When Harv turned to reenter the house, Hank stopped him with, "Dad? There's one more thing."

Harv swung back around. "If it's bad news, save it. I've heard enough for one night."

"Nothing bad." Hank rubbed the back of his neck, thinking carefully before speaking. "I hate to ask this. I know you don't like to keep secrets from Mom. But in this instance, would you mind keeping Carly's pregnancy to yourself for a few days?"

Harv frowned. "I'd rather not."

"I know, and I understand. Honestly. It's just-well, if you tell Mom, she'll turn right around and tell Bethany. Before I know it, the whole family will be in on the secret. I don't want someone to slip up and say something to humiliate Carly on her wedding day."

Harv finally nodded. "All right, son, I'll keep it to myself. You'll need to tell your mother soon, though. I'll give you a week, and that's it. She and I don't keep things from each other."

"I won't even wait a week," Hank promised. "Just a few days. For Carly's sake, not mine. She might take it in stride. Lots of women get pregnant before marriage these days. But, then again, she might not. Her life experience hasn't been ordinary."

Harv rubbed his chin, his fingertips rasping on a five-o'clock shadow that was now more silver than dark. "Your mother will be delighted about the baby, you know. She doesn't have it in her to be judgmental about things like that."

Hank puffed air into his cheeks. "I'm not worried about that, not for a minute. It's just that Carly's never met any of you. She needs a little time to settle in before Mom starts gushing and presenting her with baby gifts."