He raised his head up toward the sky, but found no answers in the coming night. He had chosen his own path and now he had to live with the consequences. As Anne had to learn to do. She had chosen this path as well.
He shook his head. No, that wasn’t fair. He’d been the one to get in touch with her. He’d been the one to bring her out to Colorado because he hadn’t wanted to take Laurel back alone and risk her not forgiving him. He’d been the one who wouldn’t discuss the realities of the pregnancy, because he’d been afraid of what would happen with Laurel. Annie wasn’t the guilty party. Yet her innocence did nothing to change the fact that they had both hurt Laurel.
He had lost his best friend years before when Ellen had changed. Then he had lost his wife. Annie would be taking away his unborn child when she returned to Houston. He could very easily lose Laurel because he’d put off dealing with the truth. He would be left with nothing, and he had no one to blame but himself. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t withdrawn after Ellen’s death. If he’d only thought about his daughter instead of himself. But the realization came two years too late. He didn’t know how he was supposed to make it all work now.
*
Anne sat in the hallway and leaned her head against Laurel’s door. She hadn’t heard anything for almost ten minutes. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. It didn’t really matter, she thought sadly. She had to try to make Laurel understand.
“I’m sorry you found out this way,” Anne said, raising her voice so she could be heard through the door.
“Go away.”
At least she hadn’t said she hated her. Maybe that was something. “I can’t go away until we talk.”
Laurel’s response was to turn up her stereo until the music pounded through the walls, blocking out any possibility of conversation. Anne waited. She tried to gather her thoughts together and figure out what she was going to say. She should have told Laurel before, when she’d wanted to. At least then she could have planned her words in advance and tried to soften the blow. To hear the truth that way, blurted out in anger…. She winced. She wasn’t even sure what she and Jake had been yelling at each other, but she would bet it had been ugly and unsuitable for a thirteen-year-old to hear.
Oh, baby, she thought, touching the door between them. If only it had happened differently. If only she and Jake hadn’t made love that night in the desert. She touched her stomach. No, that’s not true. She wanted the baby. She wanted Laurel. Her mouth curved up in a slight smile. She might as well finish the list and go for it all—she wanted Jake. But not like this. Not with everyone bleeding inside. She’d come here to make a difference, to make it better. Instead everything was going wrong.
In a few minutes the music stopped. She drew in a deep breath. “You will always be my daughter, Laurel,” she said, hoping the girl would at least listen. “I still love you and want you in my life.”
The door flew open. Laurel glared at her. “No, you don’t. You want your b-baby.” Her voice cracked. Her long brown hair hung down in two braids. With her warm plaid shirt and baggy jeans hiding her budding figure, she looked young and fragile.
Anne scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry you found out this way.”
Laurel glared at her. “You’re not sorry you’re pregnant, are you?”
“No.”
“I knew it.” Fresh tears formed in her eyes. “You never cared about me. That’s why you gave me away. You never wanted me. You only came here because you wanted to get pregnant. You wanted the baby so you could keep it. You’re going to keep it.”
Laurel balled her hands into fists and struck out. Anne grabbed her wrists, holding her at arm’s length. The girl thrashed for a few seconds, before going still.
“You didn’t keep me. You gave me away.” Her hazel eyes, so like Anne’s mother’s, accused her of the most heinous crime. “You were supposed to be my mother. Now you’re going to be someone else’s mother. I can’t even hate you anymore. You made me want to have you stay here forever. But it was lies. You lied to me.”
Anne pulled her close. Laurel resisted at first, then sagged against her. She wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl and murmured soft, meaningless phrases. “Hush, honey. Hush.” She led Laurel over to the bed and sat next to her. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. I swear.” Anne reached out and brushed her daughter’s face with her fingers. Laurel flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull back. “I wish I could explain, but it’s very complicated.”
“That’s what grown-ups always say.” Laurel sniffed. “It doesn’t seem very complicated to me. You want this baby and you’re going to keep it.”
Anne shook her head. “I know this hurts you. It hurts me, too.” She held up her hand to ward off her daughter’s interruption. “Please listen, honey. I was seventeen when I got pregnant in the back of a boy’s pickup truck. It was stupid and I knew better, but I did it anyway. I gave you up for adoption because I thought it was the right thing to do. If I could be that seventeen-year-old girl again—” She swallowed hard. “I want to tell you that I would keep you. I would, knowing what I know now. If I had been smarter, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant in the first place. But given the same set of circumstances, knowing there was a loving couple wanting a baby and not being able to have one, I would give you up again.”
Laurel stared at her. Anne could see the pain in her eyes, and the need to believe, but she was afraid to have her trust shattered yet again.
Anne took one of her hands and held it tightly. “There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t said to myself. I never wanted to hurt you. Even though I wasn’t with you all those years, I never forgot about you, or stopped wondering where you were or what you were doing. Your dad showed me some videos.”
Laurel looked up, surprised. “He did?”
She nodded. “Of when you were little.”
Laurel grimaced. “They’re so dopey.”
“Not to me. I thought they were very special. I got to see you playing and laughing. I saw you with your mom. I saw the way she held you and taught you not to be afraid to try. What would you do, Laurel? If the choice were yours, if you could go back, would you want me to keep you? Would you want to give up your mom and dad so that you and I could live in a trailer like Becky Sue and her kids? I never got married. You might never have had a stepdad. It would have just been the two of us. My mom is gone, and Bobby didn’t have much family, either. Would you give up everything you’ve ever known and everyone who’s loved you just so you and I could be together?”
Their eyes met. Laurel slowly shook her head. “No. I love my dad. I miss my mom. Sometimes I cry because I want her back so much.”
“I know, honey.” Anne rested her hand on her daughter’s head and pulled her close. She rocked her back and forth. “I’m not asking you to decide. I’m trying to show you that we all make hard decisions. We do the best we can, then we have to live with it. I’m sorry the thought of my having a baby hurts you. But you’ll always be my firstborn. We’ve found each other now. It’s up to us to keep that relationship special or let it die. We can’t change the past, but we can influence the future. I love you and want to be a part of your life forever. You decide what happens next.” She held her breath and prayed for a miracle.
Laurel drew in a deep breath and sighed. She stiffened, then shifted and wrapped her arms around her waist. Anne hugged her back.
“I love you, Annie.”
“I love you, too, Laurel.”
“I’ll try not to be upset about the baby.”
Anne touched a finger to her daughter’s chin and urged her to look up. “You can be upset. I’m upset. This changes everything. But we can make it work. I promise.”
“I used to want a little brother or sister.”
“Your dad is convinced it’s a boy.”
Laurel frowned. “If my dad’s the father of your baby, that means you guys—” She stopped talking and grimaced
. “Oh, gross.”
Anne bit back a smile. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t think about that part.”
“I guess.” Laurel wrinkled her nose. “Does this mean you’re going to get married? Don’t you have to be married to have a baby?”
“Obviously not,” Anne said. “I had you.”
“But that was different. If you marry my dad, that means you’ll stay here with me. Don’t you want to?”
“It’s not that simple.”
Laurel sighed again. “That means no.”
“I can’t marry your father. He’s still in love with your mom. That would make the relationship hard on everyone. I don’t belong here. I have a job, a promotion, waiting for me back in Houston. All my friends. Everything is there except for you.” And Jake, but Laurel didn’t need to hear that.
“But you have friends here, don’t you? I think Daddy likes you a lot. Don’t you have to like someone to, well—” She glanced at Anne’s stomach, blushed and looked away. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you married him. Dad says I can love you and Mom. That it’s okay.”
“Can’t you love me if I don’t live with you?”
Laurel thought for minute, then nodded slowly. “I guess.”
“Good. Because I’ll still care about you. We have something very special. It’s not about geography or who lives where. I’ll always be available to you Laurel. Just a phone call away. We’ll work out some way to have visits together. Often, I promise.”
Laurel stared at her. Her freckles stood out on her pale skin. Anne counted the dots on her daughter’s nose and knew the number and pattern matched the freckles on her own face. They were tied together by more than blood, but it was nice to know the family connection was still there.
“You’re leaving,” Laurel said suddenly.
“You always knew that.”
“But you’re leaving now. You’re not going to wait until the two months are up, are you?”
Laurel threw herself at her. Anne clutched her. Sometime in the last few minutes she’d made up her mind. It would be easier for everyone if she was gone. Jake and Laurel could get on with their lives, and she could make plans for her maternity leave. She would have to figure out how much time she should take and… She touched Laurel’s hair. The details could wait. For now it was enough to hold and be held by the child she’d lost so long ago.
“No, honey, I’m leaving in the morning.”
Jake stood on the top of the stairs. He heard the words but didn’t want to believe what they meant. She was leaving him. The sharp pain in his chest surprised him. He hadn’t realized how much he would care.
Laurel looked up and saw him. “Daddy.” She ran to him and embraced him fiercely. “Annie’s leaving. Don’t let her go. Please make her stay.”
“Laurel, I—”
She tore herself free and raced down the stairs. The front door opened, then slammed shut.
He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. Annie sat on his daughter’s bed. Her eyes looked haunted.
“How much did you hear?” she asked.
“Enough to know that you’re going to be one terrific mother.”
Her smile looked a little ragged at the corners. “Thanks. I don’t feel so great right now.”
“Laurel knows that you love her. That’s the most important thing. The rest of it can be worked out.”
She folded her hands together on her lap. Her pale red hair had grown a little since she’d been here. It brushed her shoulders in an unruly mass of waves. The oversize sweatshirt she wore dwarfed her, concealing her generous curves. But he remembered them. He remembered how she tasted and felt in his arms. He remembered the fire that consumed them every time they got within two feet of each other. He knew in his heart it would be like that forever. He thought about her gentleness, her humor, her quick wit and sharp mind. He thought about her half-finished craft projects, littering the house, and the cow curtains fluttering by that damn cow-print table and chair set in the kitchen. He thought about how she had struggled to make it work for all of them, and the fact that she put her needs last. He knew he would be a fool to let her go.
“I don’t remember when I first met Ellen,” he said quietly.
She glanced up, her eyes wide. “Jake, I don’t—”
“Please. Just listen.”
She bowed her head and nodded.
“I guess we were babies. I don’t remember a time in my life when Ellen wasn’t there. We were best friends, all the way through high school. We both dated other people, but we hung out with each other. We could talk about anything. Then I went off to college while she was in her last year of high school. I came home for Christmas break, and something had changed. We thought we were in love.”
Anne took a deep breath. “That sounds very wonderful,” she said. “I’m sure your parents were pleased.”
He wished she would look up so he could guess at what she was thinking, but she didn’t. “They were. In retrospect, I know we weren’t in love. I think the hormones kicked in and we didn’t know what else to call it.” He smiled, remembering their fumblings in the front seat of his sports car. It had been an awkward tight fit, but neither of them had minded. “We got engaged, then married. It took me several years to figure out something was wrong.”
She looked up then, surprised. “What are you saying?”
“I didn’t love Ellen the way you think I did. The woman I mourn has been gone a lot longer than two years. I miss my best friend, the girl I grew up with. Not the woman who died. I keep up the traditions out of obligation and maybe a little guilt. Also because they mean something to Laurel. Not because I care. I—” Now it was his turn to look down. He stared at the pale gray carpet newly installed in Laurel’s room, then glanced back at Annie. “I used her memory to make you feel unwelcome. Maybe I used it to hide behind, as well.” He shrugged. “I’m not proud of that, and I apologize.”
She didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat and continued. “I care about you, Annie. You’ve found your way into our lives. I can’t imagine this house without you. I need you. Laurel needs you. We’re not naked in bed, I’m not drunk or angry or desperate. Please stay and be my wife.”
She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Because you love me?” she asked.
He nodded cautiously.
“Passionately?”
He smiled. “You can’t deny the passion.”
“No, I can’t.” She stood up and approached him. When she was close enough for him to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume, she placed her small hands on his folded arms. Her blue eyes stared into his. “I love you, Jake. I don’t know when or how, but I do. I think it all started when you were so protective of Laurel.”
A fierce gladness rose inside of him. The knot of tension in his gut released. It was going to be all right. She was going to stay. “Annie, I—”
“No.” She reached up and touched her fingers to his mouth. Her hand cupped his jaw briefly, then returned to his forearm. “I won’t marry you.”
“But if you love me, why not?”
“Because you don’t love me.”
“I do.”
She shook her head. “I’m not saying I don’t believe your story about Ellen. I’m sure it’s true. Actually it explains a lot of things to me. But your timing stinks. It’s a little too convenient for my taste. I’m leaving in the morning so you happen to figure out that you haven’t loved Ellen in years, oh, and by the way, you love me, too? I don’t think so.”
He could feel the panic growing. He was going to lose her. He knew it. “Dammit, woman, what do you want me to say? I’ve told you I love you, I’ve asked you to stay. Is it the idea of being married? We can live together, if you prefer. I don’t like that, but I can be flexible. As long as we’re a family.”
“As long as you have your son.” The sadness of her face pierced him like a knife. “That’s what this is all about. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not, this
entire discussion is because you’re afraid to lose your son. If you can’t intimidate me into staying, you’re going to woo me into submission.”
“That’s not true,” he said, but wondered if it was. Was he playing some kind of elaborate game with her? Was he that shallow and unfeeling? She was right about one thing. The timing of his confession did stink.
“I’ll figure something out,” she said, stepping away from him. “Visits, or maybe I’ll look for another job close by. You’ll be able to see your son, Jake. I promise.”
He framed her face in his hands, then bent down and kissed her. He tasted her passion and her sadness. Had it been their destiny to break each other’s hearts? “Despite what you think Annie Jo Baker, I do love you.”
Tears formed, but she blinked them away. “Then let’s stay friends. For both our children.”
He pulled her close and held on tightly. Her body felt familiar against his. Familiar and so very right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.
“I’m not. I found Laurel. I’ve been gifted with a second chance and a second child. And I found you, Jake. You’ll never know what loving you has meant to me.”
Then why are you leaving me? he wanted to ask. But he didn’t. There weren’t any words left to convince her to stay.
Chapter 15
The rain fell, obliterating all but the brightest lights in the Houston skyline. Anne stood at her window watching the storm. Through the glass she could feel the damp, cool air. It was early December. In Colorado, they had already had snow. She knew because she watched the weather channel’s national report, as if seeing computer images of snow or rain would make her feel she was still living on the horse ranch with Jake and Laurel.
Her daughter also brought her up-to-date, she reminded herself. The twice-weekly phone calls lasted almost an hour with Laurel chattering about her friends and her plans for the weekend. When Anne called, Jake rarely picked up, and when he did, he politely asked how she was feeling, then handed her over to their daughter.
She’d been back over a month, so why didn’t the beautiful white-on-white condo feel more like a home?
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