“You’re in love.”
Goose bumps rippled over Mickelle’s flesh. “But—”
“Come on, admit it,” Brionney said earnestly. “I know you’re terrified of losing someone you love again, but I’ve seen you together. You love him and he loves you.”
“He says he does. It seems too good to be true. A rich, good-looking, upstanding man, nice kids, an incredible house . . .”
“Sometimes dreams do come true.”
“Maybe he just sees me as a mother for his children.” Deny it as she might, Colton’s words had stayed with her.
“If you’d seen him Saturday night, all set to go to that dance to find you, despite the fact that he was so dizzy he could barely stand, you wouldn’t doubt his motives.” Brionney lifted Gabriel from the floor where Forest was trying to steal his toy. Over Forest’s wails, she continued, “I finally convinced him that sending you flowers would suffice. He called about a dozen places—personally, mind you—before he found one that was open and that carried the right color.” Brionney’s gaze found the golden roses on the counter. “I guess these are it, huh? Very nice.” She stood and leaned over them, breathing in deeply. Gabriel reached for a rose, but Brionney held his hand back, helping him smell the flower instead. Forest saw the exchange and lifted his arms, demanding with screams to see the flowers too.
Mickelle felt the blood drain from her face. Suddenly, a few things she had thought odd fit into place: Damon’s covert glances at the roses, and his abrupt question on the phone about them. No wonder he suspected Colton!
There had to some mistake. Perhaps Damon’s flowers had never made it—though the golden color of these had him written all over them. Maybe Colton had mistaken them for the ones he’d ordered.
Strange there had been no card.
“Mickelle,” Brionney said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Hello, Mickelle, are you listening?”
“Yeah, what?”
“I said that no matter how nice this Colton fellow is—or how good-looking—you really ought to be careful. You know women get taken advantage of all the time. For all we know, he’s a crook in disguise.”
“Now you sound like Damon.” But the anger she’d felt toward him had vanished. If she hadn’t been so quick to judge his motives and be offended by them, he might have confided his suspicions. Even if Colton had a perfectly good excuse for the flower mix-up, there were definite grounds for questions.
Brionney shrugged. “Well, he’s a smart guy, and we both care about you.” She let the twin in her arms—Forest now, Mickelle noticed, though she hadn’t seen Brionney trading twins—slide to the ground next to his brother.
“When I even think about that, I start to have a panic attack,” Mickelle said, though that wasn’t quite true. She hadn’t experienced one since yesterday morning.
“I think you and Damon have a chance at something wonderful. You have to give that a chance, no manner how many panic attacks you have. They’re probably linked to your anxiety about Riley’s death anyway, not to Damon. Have you thought about seeing your doctor again?”
“Yes. In fact, I think the man I really need in my life right now is a psychiatrist.”
Brionney chuckled. “I’ll tell that to Damon. What do you bet he changes occupations?”
Mickelle laughed with her sister. She couldn’t help herself. No matter what protest she made, Brionney had an answer—one she desperately needed to hear.
“You win,” she gave in. “I’ll talk to Damon. But I still think he’s gone too far. I’m Colton’s friend, nothing more, and it’s not like he wants anything from me. He didn’t even charge me a fee for getting my money.” Again she was stretching the truth. Colton did want a relationship.
“Then tell that to Damon. But I think you’ll have a hard time convincing him that Colton doesn’t want something. I’ve seen the look in Colton’s eyes, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
“You’re reading too much into it. He might be a little zealous, that’s all.”
Brionney rolled her eyes. “Wow, are you defensive! Now I see why you and Damon fought.” She grinned wickedly. “Then again, if it leads to such a wonderful kiss as you described maybe you should fight more often. Heck, I might go home and pick a good fight with Jesse tonight.”
Mickelle felt her face turn red, but she laughed anyway.
“Oh no!” Brionney gaped at the clock on the wall. “Goodness, help me get the twins in the car. I was supposed to pick up Rosalie at preschool five minutes ago! Then I have a hair appointment.”
After Brionney left, Mickelle went back inside the house, pondering her options. Her gaze landed on the paper where Colton had written the number of his financial consultant. Maybe it was time to do a little investigating on her own.
Chapter Ten
Damon had blown it with Mickelle. He knew he shouldn’t have argued with her but rather discussed his suspicions calmly, even when she had become defensive. He most certainly shouldn’t have kissed her when they were both angry. But she had been so beautiful at that moment, her head held high, her blue eyes storming as she defended Mr. Cover Boy.
What a kiss! Even just thinking about it made him long to be with her.
He still shouldn’t have done it.
What had he expected to prove? He only wished that he could make Mickelle understand the foreboding that filled him when he met Colton Scofield. He had been in business too long not to recognize a crook when he saw one—no matter what kind of sheep’s clothing he wore.
So help me if he hurts her I’ll . . .
Stop it!
Damon busied himself with work. He was already far behind because of his preoccupation with Mickelle. His stomach growled, unsatisfied with Jesse’s hamburger. He thought of the Chinese food he had left at Mickelle’s with more than a little longing. Yet he stifled the urge to run back to her house. She had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing his opinions on Mr. Cover Boy.
Better not to talk to her again until he had something solid to present.
What about my flowers?
He grimaced at the thought. The flowers were proof of a sort, and he wanted to tell her he’d been the one to send them, yet at the same time he remembered the hurt in her eyes when she’d asked him if it was so hard to believe that Colton was attracted to her. The look stopped him from telling her the truth. He would rather have her not know he had sent the roses than to cause her more pain.
He wished now that he hadn’t rushed his official marriage proposal. She had been so scared of trusting him in the first place, and his near death had added to her worry. He should have let more time pass before giving her the ring. We need to talk about it, he thought.
But would it only drive her further away?
Damon raked his fingers through his hair and stared at the papers on his desk. This was getting him nowhere.
A tap at the door revealed Jesse, with another sheaf of papers. “Look at this, look at this! We’re doing it! The Jackson group has agreed to sign! Everything you touch really does turn to gold! Only problem is, they want a conference call. Tonight.”
Damon stifled a sigh. “I’d better ask Juliet if she can pick up the kids then. I’m fairly sure Kelle has a meeting at church—something for Relief Society.” He made a mental note to talk to Juliet, their receptionist, who was always willing to help out in a pinch.
“Have them walk over to my house,” Jesse said. “Brionney can keep an eye on them until we get done. Bryan and Jeremy are going over there anyway.”
“I hate to do that to Bri. That’s a lot of kids.”
“She won’t mind, honest. And if she does, she’ll let me know. The girls’ll have a ball with Belle.”
Damon smiled, regaining some of his good humor. “If she doesn’t boss them to death. But I’d really rather get Juliet to take them home. Our cook will appreciate having them home to actually eat her meal. And that means they can get ready for bed. Less work for me when I get home.”
/> In a way, he was relieved. By having to work late tonight he wouldn’t have to deliberate over what he would say to Mickelle. Instead, he would concentrate on the business at hand and give Mickelle the room she seemed to need.
“Let me see what questions I’ve got to prepare for,” he growled, reaching for the papers. “If I remember correctly, these guys are not easily satisfied.”
* * *
Mickelle made a few calls in the moments remaining before she needed to pick up Tanner at school. After talking to Colton’s investor friend briefly in the front office at the investment firm where he worked and to the apartment manager where Colton said he was staying, she still had nothing on which to base an accusation.
Except the flowers.
Mickelle chewed on her lip, deep in thought. Colton seemed to be all he was supposed to be. And yet . . .
Something didn’t feel right. Was it only Damon’s suspicions crowding in on her, or was the Lord trying to warn her? The truth was, she had been so out of touch with spiritual things in the aftermath of Riley’s death that she wasn’t as practiced at using the gift of the Holy Ghost as she had once been.
It’s time for that to change, she thought. Slipping onto her knees next to her bed, she prayed that she could come to a decision about Colton, that somehow she could find out if he should be trusted.
At least his investor friend seems to be on the up and up.
Impulsively, she went to the kitchen and dialed Brenda’s cell number. Since she had been the one to introduce her to Colton, maybe she held the answer.
Her friend answered quickly, her bubbling personality filling the space between them. “Mickelle, it’s good to hear from you! How’s it going with Colton?”
“Well, that’s exactly why I’m calling.” Mickelle said, feeling awkward.
“What is it?”
“Did you by chance see Colton receive the flowers he gave me at the dance?”
“Nope. But that was so sweet, wasn’t it? If a man did that for me, I’d be tempted to marry him.”
“How’s your daughter?” Mickelle picked up a cloth and began to wipe the counter.
“My daughter?”
“Yes, your daughter. Wasn’t she the reason you went home early from the dance? I didn’t see you at church and I wondered.”
“Oh, we went to visit my parents—didn’t I tell you? But Mickelle, I thought you’d figure out that my daughter being sick was an excuse to let Colton take you home.”
Mickelle froze. “Whose idea was it?” she asked carefully. “Yours or Colton’s?”
“His, actually. Isn’t that precious? I would have done it myself, if I’d thought about it first. He beat me to it. I think he’s quite smitten with you.”
“He knew all about my not getting the insurance money.”
There was a brief pause. “Yes, some of us talked when we went out to lunch that day. Don’t be mad. We just wanted to help. I know how difficult it can be to survive on social security. When he told us what he did for a living, we all thought the Lord was working in His mysterious ways.”
Or maybe in Colton’s mysterious ways, Mickelle thought.
“He seemed sure he could help you.”
Why was that? How could he have been so sure?
Brenda’s voice became apologetic. “Did something happen? Is something wrong? I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have.”
“No, everything’s fine. Colton did go to bat for me with the insurance company.” Mickelle was reluctant to tell Brenda everything. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Why don’t you let me pick you up for Relief Society tonight? We can talk more then.”
Mickelle was hesitant, but she had no real excuse not to accept. The boys were going over to Brionney’s, and Belle and Tanner would be in Alpine by then. Besides, it might be good to get out with a friend.
“Okay, but don’t be late.” Of course, that was like telling the sun not to rise, but they would likely only miss the opening song, and going with a friend was better than going alone.
She hung up the phone, feeling pensive. Confusion was foremost in her thoughts, and she didn’t know how to change that. A swift glance at the clock told her she didn’t have time to dwell on her problems. Tanner would be waiting at the high school.
After picking up Tanner and seeing that he and Bryan were started on their homework, Mickelle went to Forbes Elementary for Belle and Jeremy. After all, Belle would still be struggling under her heavy load of clothes. Of course the real reason Mickelle wanted to go the school came from a pair of large, dark eyes in a thin, freckle-covered face. A face marred by bruises. Jennie Anne. Had Belle talked to the teacher about her mathematical ability? And how had the child received those ugly bruises?
She told herself it was none of her business, but that didn’t stop her from going to the school. During the months after Riley’s death when she had been obsessed with the obituaries and depressing headlines, she had read too many times about children suffering because no one interfered. Often, she would stay awake nights thinking and praying for those unfortunate children. Perhaps that was why she was so protective of her own.
On the other hand, Jennie Anne might have a perfectly wonderful family, but Mickelle wasn’t going to rest until she was sure.
Belle looked relieved when Mickelle appeared at her classroom door. Her classmates streamed past her, but she stood near her desk. Jennie Anne was with her, hair as unkempt as before, but today her clothes were surprisingly new. She carried a faded yellow backpack that was stuffed to the bursting point. Mickelle smiled, grateful the homely little girl had been included in whatever game Belle and her friends had been playing.
“I’m so glad you came,” Belle said. “I was worried Jennie Anne would have to walk home with her backpack so heavy.”
How sweet that Belle seemed to be worried more about her friend than herself. “Hi, Jennie Anne,” Mickelle said with a smile. “Does your aunt care if I give you a ride home?”
Jennie Anne smiled at Mickelle shyly. Her dark hair barely moved as she shook her head, as though held in place by weeks of dirt and grime. The large bruise on her cheek was now a mottled gray-green, edged with yellow. “She don’t care.”
“You mean she doesn’t care,” said Mrs. Palmer, emerging from a group of other students. She looked slightly worn from a day with twenty-three first-graders, but her smile was still in place.
“Oh, yeah.” Jennie Anne flushed. She didn’t look at her teacher or Mickelle.
“She never cares about nothin’,” Belle added. “Jennie Anne’s aunt, I mean.”
Mrs. Palmer put a slender hand on Jennie Anne’s shoulder. As on the previous day, the girl cringed silently, her eyes going bright with unshed tears. An odd protectiveness kindled in Mickelle’s heart. Was this child so afraid of Mrs. Palmer that even a touch from her evoked fear? Or was there something else going on, something even more sinister?
“May I talk to you a few moments?” Mickelle glanced at the attentive girls and added, “Alone?”
“Sure, come on over to my desk. I have a few minutes. Belle and Jennie Anne can work on the alphabet.”
Belle grinned at her teacher and willingly pulled a piece of paper out of her desk. She took a short pencil from behind her ear and began to write.
Mickelle felt nervous as she tried to put her thoughts in order. “It’s not about Belle, really. It’s about . . . Jennie Anne.”
“A nice little girl,” Mrs. Palmer said, but her hazel eyes were troubled. “Most of the children can’t see beyond her . . . her outer appearance. I know it’s sad to say, but . . .” She brightened. “Belle has been a real friend. The first two children I assigned to Jennie Anne caused her not to talk for the whole day. The next two said that she . . . well, smelled bad and they didn’t want to be with her. Only Belle became her friend. She’s a very special child, Belle is. I keep thinking maybe she overlooks all the outer stuff because she’s younger, but she’s so precocious in
all the other areas that my theory seems to be off. I certainly have my hands full trying to keep her learning.” She broke off, smiling self-consciously. “But then you know that better than I do. Belle’s a wonderful student. A teacher’s dream come true. She lights up my life, the whole room, really.”
“Well, she has her moments,” Mickelle offered, pleased with the comments. “But she does love to learn. I have to admit that I was a little concerned when I learned that you were pairing her with someone who couldn’t read, but then yesterday I saw how smart Jennie Anne was—”
“She really is smart,” interrupted Mrs. Palmer earnestly. “I know she can’t read, but that’s because she’s never been in school before. When they tested her verbally she was off the charts, but when we handed her a pencil, she did absolutely nothing. By rights she should have gone to the kindergarten class, but they are already so full. Besides, putting her there would just hold her back even more. I thought I’d be able to work with her if she was in my class.” She sighed, as though embarrassed that her youthful ideals were so clearly showing. “If I could work alone with her more, she’d be caught up in no time. There are simply too many students.”
“Then you know about her ability with math.”
“That she gets the problems right when you ask them verbally? Yes, I knew that. Now I just need to help her translate that to paper.”
Her calm answer didn’t seem to go with the amazing times table display Mickelle had witnessed yesterday. Had the children faked the scene for her sake? Once she might not have doubted that Belle would try, but she’d been on her best behavior for weeks, determined to earn her promised horse. “Don’t you think doing multiplication is exceptional in someone that age?”
The teacher blinked in confusion, and two bright spots appeared on her pale cheeks. “Multiplication?”
Mickelle described what had happened the day before.
“I’ve never tested her on multiplication. It never even crossed my mind.” Mrs. Palmer stared across the room at Jennie Anne and Belle. Jeremy had arrived in the classroom, and he gave them a little wave before taking the pencil from Belle and writing something on the paper.
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