"You can't just drop me off like this," Summer protested. "Does your mother or your sister even know we're married?"

"I called my mother on my cell phone while I was waiting for you to pack and told her I'd be bringing you home."

"What did she say to that?"

Billy's lips thinned.

"What did she say, Billy?" Summer demanded.

"She isn't any more happy about our marriage than your parents," Billy admitted. "But she'll get used to it."

"Please come in with me, Billy."

"You're not afraid of my mother, are you?" he teased.

"Terrified," she said.

Billy laughed. It was plain he thought she was joking. "You're not afraid of anything, Summer."

"We should greet your mother together for the first time as husband and wife," she said. "It's the courteous thing to do."

"It might be," Billy conceded. "But I've got an appointment with the TSCRA that may mean the difference between me being employed in a job with a future or doing menial labor from now on. I've got to go. Do you need me to get your bags out of the truck?" he said.

Summer shook her head in disbelief. Well, the honeymoon was certainly over. "I can get them." She stepped out of the truck and reached into the bed of the truck to retrieve her bags, hefting them over the side with some difficulty. She backed away and stood watching as Billy waved at her and spun his wheels backing up, raising a tail of dust that nearly choked her.

When the dust had settled, she gripped her bags more tightly, then turned and headed for the door. She was going to make Billy proud of her. She was going to make friends with his mother and his sister and love his son more than any mother ever could.

She stood at the screen door and leaned forward in an attempt to see inside. Like Dorothy, she'd been picked up by a tornado and whirled around and set down in a strange and terrifying land. She had a tremendous urge to tap her heels together and chant, "There's no place like home."

Although, in this case, that wouldn't really help. For the next two years, this ramshackle ranch house was her home.

"Who's there?" a voice inside demanded.

"It's Summer Blackthorne. I mean, it's Summer-" She stopped, fl.u.s.tered because her last name was no longer Blackthorne, but Coburn didn't feel right, either.

"Well, girl," the unfriendly voice said. "Come on in."

Chapter 7.

SUMMER SHOVED OPEN THE SCREEN DOOR WITH her hip, stepped inside, and set down her bags. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom after the glare of the afternoon sun. The kitchen was stifling, and Summer remembered that Billy's home didn't have air-conditioning. She felt hot and sticky and realized the only cure was a cool shower, which she wasn't likely to get anytime soon.

When she could see clearly, she greeted the woman who sat at the kitchen table. "h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Coburn. Billy said he told you we'd gotten-"

"I heard," Dora interrupted.

Summer hadn't seen Dora Coburn for two years. She wouldn't have recognized her if she hadn't known who she was. Billy's mother must have lost thirty or forty pounds. With the loss of flesh, her face had wrinkled in on itself. Her brown hair had turned completely white and she wore it in an untidy bun at her nape, while her dark eyes looked sunken behind black plastic frames. k.n.o.bby elbows protruded from the short sleeves of a faded rose-colored chenille robe that had not only seen better days, but better years.

Summer stood waiting to be invited to sit, or to make herself at home, or to be sent packing. When Dora said nothing, she picked up her bags and said, "I'll put these in Billy's room."

"Don't go in there right now. The baby's napping."

"Oh." Summer waited for further instructions. When they didn't come, she set her bags down again. She decided to take the bull by the horns and said, "I suppose that gives us a chance to talk."

Dora Coburn frowned. "Why did you do it?"

Summer was caught off guard by the blunt question. "For Billy's sake," she replied.

Dora shook her head. "Billy doesn't need a wife. He's doing fine without one."

Summer realized Billy must not have told his mother about the custody suit, and if he hadn't, then she certainly couldn't. "I married Billy because he asked."

Dora snorted. "As I recall, you were set to marry some other fellow in two weeks. What happened to him?"

"I didn't-We didn't-I changed my mind," she said.

"And b.u.t.ted into Billy's life like a she-goat in heat," Dora said, her eyes narrowing. "You've wanted my son ever since you laid eyes on him, and the minute he came back you latched onto him."

"It's not like that," Summer protested. "Billy and I..." They'd been friends, just friends, for so many years. And they still were friends, with one little difference. They were also husband and wife. So what if she was physically attracted to Billy Coburn? That wasn't why she'd married him, no matter what Dora thought. It wasn't even going to be a real marriage, although Summer had no intention of telling Dora that.

"Billy doesn't need the likes of you in his life," Dora said. "Rich, self-centered, selfish, inconsiderate-"

"That's enough," Summer said. She tried not to let the words hurt her. "I would never do anything-"

"Because of you, Billy left home and hasn't been back these two years," Dora said bitterly.

"How can you blame me-"

"If you hadn't come sniffing around Billy, Blackjack never would've sicced his hired dogs on my son. I never would've told Blackjack the truth, and he never would've told Billy. Now you're back to cause more trouble."

"I'm not-"

"You're a pampered brat looking for fun and games. Well, Billy isn't some fancy pair of boots you can wear once and toss away. Best for all concerned if you pick up those bags and leave now, before you hurt my son again."

Summer stood her ground against Dora's verbal a.s.sault, but she was reeling. She'd known Dora wasn't going to welcome her. But she hadn't expected this vicious attack.

She took a deep breath and said, "I'm not leaving, Mrs. Coburn."

"You won't like it here," Dora promised. "There'll be no one to cater to your whims, no one to come at your beck and call."

"I never expected there would be."

"If I were healthy-" Dora cut herself off and grabbed at her chest.

"Are you all right?" Summer said, crossing toward her.

"Stay away from me," Dora bit out.

Summer saw the pain on Dora's face. "Would you like something cold to drink? A gla.s.s of iced tea?" she suggested, not knowing what else to do.

Dora eyed her suspiciously. "Tea. You know where to find everything?"

No sense pretending she didn't. "Yes, I do," Summer said. She'd spent enough time at Billy's house when Dora and Emma were at church to know her way around the house. "Where's Emma?" she asked as she found two fruit jars in the cupboard and headed for the refrigerator.

"Taking a nap."

That would have sounded odd, except Summer knew Emma was pregnant. She debated whether to say anything, then decided there was no sense pretending about this, either. "Billy told me Emma's pregnant. How far along is she?"

"Twenty weeks."

Summer did the math in her head. Five months. She popped some ice cubes out of the tray in the freezer, then poured herself and Dora each a gla.s.s of tea, before returning the half-gallon tea jar to the refrigerator-which she noticed was filled with Tupperware containers that held what she supposed must be leftovers. Her mother gave the leftovers to the servants.

She placed Dora's tea in front of her along with a paper towel, when she couldn't find any napkins, then leaned back against the kitchen counter with her own tea in her hand, rather than joining Dora at the table, since she so obviously wasn't welcome there. She took a sip and asked, "Why aren't you in bed, too?"

It took so long for Dora to speak that Summer thought the older woman wasn't going to answer her. Dora sighed and said, "Got tired of lying around hurting. I can hurt just as easy sitting up."

Summer was surprised at Dora's admission. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

Dora shrugged. And winced. "Some."

"Is there anything I can do?" Summer wasn't sure what Billy's mother might need in the way of nursing care, but she was willing to do anything she could to help.

"You can turn around and go back where you came from."

"You know I can't do that," Summer said. "For Billy's sake."

"My boy can take care of himself," Dora insisted.

"It isn't himself he's worried about," Summer said. "It's Will." She hesitated. "And you."

Dora took a sip of tea and set it back down. "What is it you think you can do for me, Mizz Blackthorne?"

"I'm a Coburn now," Summer said.

"You'll always be a Blackthorne, missy," Dora shot back.

Frustrated by the older woman's animosity, Summer said, "I'm only here to help."

"I'm dying. n.o.body can help that."

Summer didn't know what to say. She settled for "I'm sorry."

"Mom? Who are you talking to?"

At the sound of Emma's voice, Summer braced herself. She'd had little or no contact with Billy's sister, but Emma had been present two years ago when Dora caught Summer kissing Billy on their front porch and called her a Jezebel and a fornicator. If Blackjack's experience with the Creed kids was any guide, Emma would likewise have learned from her parents to hate all Blackthornes.

Summer prepared herself for the animosity she expected by taking a fortifying sip of iced tea.

Emma stopped in the doorway. She was wearing a Western shirt with the tails tucked into a pair of jeans that weren't zipped all the way up, making her pregnancy obvious, because her rounded stomach was at such odds with the rest of her tall, rail-thin body.

Emma's gaze shot from Summer to the two bags by the door and back to Summer again at the same time as she pulled the tails out of her jeans so they overlapped the open zipper. "What's going on?"

"Billy and I got married this morning," Summer said. "I'm here to help out in whatever way I can."

To Summer's surprise, Emma didn't raise her voice or stomp around the room ranting about the mean and ornery Blackthornes. She simply said, "I don't see how you're going to be any help around here."

Summer was stung by Emma's dismissal of her. Of course, she'd realized the same thing herself. But she wanted to help. Surely that counted for something. "I'm willing to learn whatever I need to know."

Emma crossed her arms and said, "Mom, you should be in bed."

"I'm fine, Emma."

"I can see you're in pain," Emma said.

"Lying down isn't going to change that," Dora said. "Why don't you get Summer started on the laundry? Will's about out of the cloth diapers Billy brought with him. The disposables are too expensive for everyday."

Summer opened her mouth to object, saw the challenging look on Dora's face, and shut it again. Billy had said Emma usually took care of the housekeeping, but this was obviously a test to see if Summer had really meant what she'd said. "Sure," she said to Emma. "Let's go."

"Follow me," Emma said.

If Summer had thought about it, she would have realized that she hadn't seen a washer or dryer in the house. They turned out to be hooked up in a little wooden room at one end of the back porch. Emma opened the shed door and Summer was a.s.sailed by the strong odor of ammonia.

"We leave the dirty diapers soaking in a pail of water till we're ready to wash them," Emma said. "You'll need to wring them out before you put them in the washer."

Summer stared at the washing machine. To say it was ancient would be paying it a compliment. She wondered whether she should mention to Emma that she'd never done laundry in her life, and that she had no idea how to operate a washer.

Emma had apparently a.s.sumed the worst, because she quickly explained how to start the machine, then showed Summer where the Tide and borax could be found and how much to use.

"The dryer doesn't work," Emma said. "When the machine quits, you'll need to hang the diapers on the line out back. Here's a basket you can use to carry the diapers in. We leave the clothespins on the line."

A moment later Emma was gone and Summer was alone. She took the lid off the diaper pail and reeled backward. "Whoa. That's really rank."

She reminded herself that this was a test-which both women expected her to fail. After all, she was a pampered Blackthorne, who supposedly never dirtied her hands with difficult jobs. Summer grinned. They should have seen her at the last roundup, castrating and branding calves. She'd seen and smelled far worse than what was facing her in that diaper pail.

But she'd done her ranch work wearing gloves. This job required her to reach into the pail with her bare hands, pick up a stinky diaper, and wring it out. Summer grimaced, but reminded herself women had been doing this work for as long as they'd been spinning cloth. She held her breath and reached into the pail.

Once the washer was started, she realized she might as well head back inside until it was done. She didn't knock before she entered the house this time, and she found Emma and Dora sitting at the table in earnest conversation. Emma stopped talking the instant the screen door opened.

"There's nothing for me to do until the washer's done." Summer felt foolish explaining her reappearance, because it should have been obvious why she was back. She resisted the urge to ask for another ch.o.r.e to keep her busy. Instead, she went to the kitchen sink and washed her hands, then refilled her gla.s.s of iced tea.

She was aware the whole time that the conversation behind her had lapsed. She turned and leaned back against the counter. Emma eyed her, then glanced at her mother.