Finding Faith

by Denise Hunter

  She focused her attention on David. He leaned back against the wooden chair, as if he couldn’t get far enough away from her. There was so much emotional distance between them that she may as well still be in Chicago. Tomorrow she was going back, and more than anything, she wanted to be on better terms with him.

  “How were the showings today? Did that couple find anything they liked?”

  His gaze bounced off her. “They showed some interest in one of the ranches. They’re thinking about it.”

  “Where are they from?” Her heart kept tempo with the eclectic music whispering from the speakers.

  “California.” He dipped his index finger in the wine, probably removing some tiny speck from the liquid, then wiped his finger on the dinner napkin.

  Should she ask how JH Realty was going? He was now the owner of the company, and he was surely proud of that. However, David had bought it without Paula’s agreement since ownership held him in Jackson Hole indefinitely. It was a bad subject between them.

  She hadn’t even told him about the Morgan story, but then he hadn’t asked about her job. Despite his concurrence to have dinner together, he was not going to ease into this conversation as she had hoped.

  After the waiter took their orders, she inhaled a weighty breath and began. “David . . .” She waited until she had eye contact, hoping for a softening there but not finding it. “I can’t stand for things to be like this anymore. We’re supposed to be husband and wife, and we’re barely speaking.”

  Her pause was supposed to give him a chance to speak, but he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

  She went on. “This isn’t healthy, and it’s not doing either of us any good. We need to talk it out.”

  He pushed his trendy glasses up and crossed his arms. “I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said, don’t you?”

  She bit her tongue. Hard. Then she took another breath, letting it out through her nose before meeting his steely gaze. “Perhaps you’ve said everything you want to say, but I haven’t.” She shouldn’t have to do this. She shouldn’t have to defend herself for something he should know she’d never do. It felt degrading. And unjust. Like begging for a scrap of bread that was hers to begin with.

  You can do this, Paula.

  If she applied all her business acumen and determination, there was no reason she couldn’t articulate herself in a way that would persuade David to believe her. It was stubborn of her not to have tried earlier.

  “Back when you took the infertility test, you told me the doctor had said it was unlikely you could father a child in the normal way, right?”

  “She said ‘almost impossible.’ ”

  Paula tried to see deep into his eyes, but she couldn’t get past the frosty exterior. “Did you ever talk to her again? Did you ever ask her if your condition was something that might be more recent?”

  When he averted his eyes, she wished she could climb inside his mind and know what he was thinking.

  “David, it was you who got me pregnant.” She steered the conversation a different direction. “I have never had an affair with anyone. I’ve not let another man lay his hands on me since the day we met. I swear.”

  He looked at her then, and she allowed everything she was feeling to show on her face. All her devotion. All her candor. All her vulnerability. She hadn’t given him so much, shown him so much in months. She was putting it all on the line tonight, because she had nothing to lose.

  Then she thought of the baby they’d conceived together, and her insides twisted. The lie, the betrayal of that one wretched day, would never leave her.

  Shadows danced across his face as his jaw clenched. “Very convincing, Paula. I almost believed you.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  David let his gaze swing across the crowded restaurant toward the other patrons. Toward the mustard-colored walls. Toward anything but the woman across from him who seemed bent on deceiving him. He’d almost believed her when her eyes softened.

  But then those same eyes darkened with guilt, and she looked down at her hands folded demurely across the table for just a second. It was enough. After observing her for years, he knew when she was lying.

  And it hurt. Man, it hurt so much, even now when he put a wall as thick as a sequoia between them. He sipped his wine to mask the pain that might be revealed in his expression. It was bad enough she still had the power to hurt him. She didn’t have to know about it too. He clamped his jaw and stared at the art deco hanging on the wall.

  “Please, David.”

  The pleading tone tugged his attention. She was a beautiful woman, her auburn hair framing a face that turned heads wherever she went. She handled it well, he’d give her that. He never caught her snatching looks at herself in rearview mirrors or windows the way some attractive women did. He’d been impressed with that when he met her.

  “What can I do? What can I say to make you believe me?”

  And her eyes. Moss green with flecks of caramel that danced in the candlelight. The way she looked at him now reminded him of another time . . .

  * * *

  She was in her senior year of college when he came to Jackson Hole for winter break with his buddies. He noticed her when he visited a local church. In fact, he had trouble concentrating on the sermon because she was sitting across the aisle, four rows in front of him, and he had a perfect view of her profile.

  Two days later, when his friends dragged him to the Million Dollar Cowboy, she was there. Their eyes met across the room, and he looked away. He had dated attractive women before, and he’d had enough of the egos that went with beauty. He wanted a nice, average girl—not some princess who expected too much, then left for a better catch.

  She’s probably just like Melanie, he thought.

  When he turned around again, the tall and leggy redhead was standing beside his stool, leaning against the bar. He got lost in her eyes the moment they locked with his.

  “You’re not from here,” she said, keeping eye contact as she sipped from the straw in her glass.

  “I’m David. Just here for a few weeks with my buddies.”

  She introduced herself as Paula, and he introduced his friends, suddenly hoping they’d get lost.

  He reined in his thoughts. A flirtation was tempting, but where could it go? Three weeks wasn’t long enough to establish anything real, and his life was miles away in Warsaw, Indiana. His friends might jump at whatever she might offer physically, but David had been trying very hard to avoid physical temptation. And this woman was temptation with a capital T.

  The music switched to an ’80s love song.

  “Would you like to dance?” Her voice, almost swallowed by the music, reached his ears.

  He opened his mouth to decline, but something changed when his eyes again met hers. Despite her bold invitation and incredible beauty, there was vulnerability in her eyes. As if something important depended on his answer, and she was desperately afraid he’d say no.

  “Sure.” The word slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it, and seconds later he was putting his hands at her waist. She surprised him by keeping her distance. Somehow he’d expected her to crush her body up against his and make this one dance agonizingly difficult.

  “I saw you at church Sunday,” she was saying.

  He felt his lips pull up in a smile. “Meaning, what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

  She shrugged. “I’m here, too, after all.”

  The top of her head was just at eye level, and she looked up at him as she spoke.

  “This doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” David said. Frankly, Jackson Hole didn’t look like her kind of place. She was like a fine, rare wine, and this town was more like a can of cream soda.

  “Honestly, I’m here to review the place for the paper. Now what’s your excuse?” She flirted with her eyes, and he liked it. A lot.

  “Three friends with money and time to kill.”

  “Ah.�
�

  Her head tipped back, exposing her delicate throat. The song swelled into the chorus.

  “Are you here to ski?” she asked.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  She had a great laugh, and her eyes seem to catch fire when she did.

  Just then a man laid his hand on David’s shoulder. “Cut in?” The man didn’t look at David. His eyes were for Paula only, and David wondered if he was her boyfriend.

  David started to back away, but Paula grabbed his arm and held it there. “No thanks.” She tipped her chin up and leveled a look that would have made Godzilla back off. Fortunately, this guy did too.

  For all her bravado, her hand was clamped around his forearm like she was hanging on for dear life.

  “Boyfriend?” He was suddenly hoping not, especially since the guy was taller and a good forty pounds stouter.

  She gave a derisive laugh. “Not hardly.” Her hand trailed back up to his shoulders, and he could feel her relaxing. “Sorry about that. He’s actually my friend’s boyfriend.”

  David watched the guy settle on a barstool, keeping his eyes on Paula the whole time. “He seems kind of taken with you.”

  Was it his imagination or did she step a little closer?

  “I don’t go for cheaters.”

  * * *

  “Here we are.” The waiter set David’s dinner plate down in front of him, pulling him back from the memory.

  Across from him, Paula was eying him strangely. The words she said all those years ago reverberated in his head: “I don’t go for cheaters.”

  Maybe she didn’t go for cheaters, but had she cheated on him? Or had he accused her unfairly, and was he willing to give her another chance?

  * * *

  On Monday Linn walked out of the little office, her legs wobbly from nerves over the interview. As she passed the counter, Adam stopped her.

  She leaned against the counter while he put a lid on a drink and handed it to the customer.

  “Well? How did it go?”

  His brown eyes were as warm as a cup of hot cocoa. Did he have to be so cute?

  “I start tomorrow.” Linn’s excitement was replaced by a jolt of anxiety. What if this job didn’t work out any better for her than for the other girl who’d gotten fired? What if she couldn’t get the hang of making espresso? She knew how picky people were about their coffee.

  “Hey, that’s great. Looks like we’ll be working together.” The smile he tossed her way was all friendly.

  Her heart kicked into high gear. “Looks like.”

  “You’ll be great. What hours will you be here?”

  “Mostly same as yours, I guess. Joe said you’d be training me.” She slipped her coat on and then her purse over her shoulder, noting the small space behind the counter. She’d never worked so closely with a man, especially not one who looked like Adam.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

  Linn glanced at him, expecting the words to have a double meaning, but there was nothing except kindness in his eyes.

  She checked her watch, wanting to be sure she didn’t miss the bus. “I gotta go.” She tapped the counter once. “See you tomorrow then.”

  He said good-bye, then she set out for the bus hut. Now she had a job. She allowed herself a moment’s relief before she plunged ahead to worry number two: a roof over her head. She’d placed an ad in the newspaper but had no real takers yet. It wasn’t a good time to find a roommate—what with all the college students going home for winter break.

  At least she could spend a little of her money to buy Grace a Christmas present now that she had a paycheck coming. She would take the bus to the hobby store and have enough time to get the gift to Jackson Hole by Christmas.

  Thank you, God.

  She didn’t have enough to buy Natalie anything, but Linn knew she’d understand. And anyway, Linn didn’t know if she was supposed to buy Natalie anything. Would it make things more awkward?

  Linn sat on the bus bench and watched all the cars speeding by. All the people on their way to or from work or Christmas shopping. A woman walked by loaded down with handled shopping bags. She must have a lot of people on her Christmas list. A big family and lots of friends.

  It struck Linn that she had only one person to buy for. And that person didn’t even know who she was.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  As Paula drove to the WMAQ station on Wednesday, she glanced over her notes from the interview with Mr. Boccardi.

  His information was very helpful—if slightly coerced. He’d given her the names and contact information of all the staff during the time of Mrs. Morgan’s stay in the hospital. She interviewed the doctor who delivered the Morgans’ baby and the three nurses who were in the delivery room at the time. She interviewed all the nurses, except for two, who were in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit during the first two days following the birth. Of the remaining two nurses, one had died in a car accident the year before and a second nurse was severely ill and unable to conduct an interview. Paula taped all the interviews, but so far she’d turned up nothing that explained why the Morgans now had someone else’s birth child.

  She wracked her brain trying to figure out what happened to the baby, but now she was at the end of the trail with no answers.

  Mr. Boccardi was adamant about keeping the patients’ records private. No amount of threats could cajole him into telling her the names and addresses of the other mothers who gave birth that day. He said he had contacted them himself, but Paula wasn’t sure she believed him.

  Keeping up with the scope of this story while still covering the daily news stories was a task. She did most of the interviews for the Morgans in her free evening hours since her return from Jackson. She called Deb and Steve the night before and assured them she was doing everything possible to get to the bottom of the story. Staying busy at night was actually a blessing, since during that time she was prone to think of David.

  The previous weekend had been an odd one. After their dinner together on Saturday, David’s mood changed. The anger and coldness thawed into some kind of somber mood on Sunday before she left for Chicago, but Paula wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not.

  She pulled up to the station and exited the leased Volvo.

  Miles surprised her by meeting her at the door. After greeting her he put a hand on her shoulder and guided her toward his office. Once there, he shut the door and took a seat opposite her, behind his desk.

  “How’d the interviews go?”

  He wastes no time getting down to business, Paula thought.

  “Not as well as I hoped,” she said. “There’s nothing significant at first glance. I still want to read through my notes and give some thought to where everyone was at any given time. Maybe a time line would help me put the pieces in order and we can—”

  “That would be fine if we had weeks, Paula, but this is news. Big news. We can’t take the risk that someone else will jump on the story. It’s time to go to press with this.”

  Tension crept into her shoulders. She wanted answers before they taped the story. Once it was out, it wasn’t her story anymore, and some other news reporter could pounce on it.

  “I understand the need for expediency,” she said. “But I’d like to have at least a day to put all these facts together. I haven’t even located the other parents who gave birth that same day. We may find the answers we need there.”

  “Or the Morgans might leak this to another reporter.”

  “They won’t do that. They trust me.”

  Strangely enough, they really did. Although Paula wasn’t stupid. She knew that if they grew weary of waiting for her to find answers, they would probably do whatever they had to.

  “You know how this works, Paula. The more people you talk to, the greater likelihood that this will slip out, and you’ll lose the story to someone else.”

  Paula knew he was right. It was always a tough act to balance: trying to get the story out first but getting i
t out accurately.

  “I want this on tomorrow night’s news.”

  She hid her disappointment behind a confident smile. “You got it.” She hated to air the story before she had answers. On top of that, other reporters would jump all over the story, and she wouldn’t have the weekend to work more on it because Sunday evening, Christmas Eve, was Natalie and Kyle’s wedding. Then she was scheduled to take the red-eye back to Chicago, where she would arrive exhausted and hardly ready for work on Monday morning. She’d just have to make the best of it. There was no way she could miss her sister’s wedding.

  Later that night Paula was feeling much less optimistic. She had all her notes, the tape recorder, and a time line spread out on her bed.

  According to her notes, the Morgans’ child was born at 1:52 p.m. on June 12, and was immediately rushed to the NICU, where the doctor hooked the baby up to a respirator and monitors. One of the nurses would have put the ID bracelet on the baby already. All the NICU workers agreed that this would have happened, though none of the nurses specifically remembered doing it for this particular child. But that was to be expected, since so much time had gone by.

  Paula skimmed her notes from the Morgans’ interview. Due to the hemorrhaging that had happened at birth and the doctor’s inability to stop it, Deb Morgan had a hysterectomy immediately after the birth. While his wife was in surgery, Steve went to the NICU and checked on the baby. He was told there was little chance for her survival.

  Paula’s heart caught at the thought of what Steve must have felt. His only child was a tiny preemie whose chances of living were very slim. His wife was in serious danger herself. And at that moment she was having surgery that would take away any chances of conceiving and birthing another child.

  Paula’s heart ached for the couple. She knew what it was like to be denied children. But her circumstances were her own choice. She had once had a chance at motherhood, and she had given it up.