“Hi,” he said quietly. “We were looking for you. Jeannie wanted to meet you.”
He turned to the little girl and signed a short sentence. While he moved his hands, he spoke the words out loud, clearly for Beth’s sake.
“Jeannie, this is my friend Beth, the one who has been helping with the party. And that’s her baby, Daniel.”
Jeannie’s face lit with excitement. She reached out and shook Beth’s hand, then began eagerly to sign again. Her tiara wobbled as she moved. She couldn’t seem to get the gestures out fast enough.
Scott watched carefully, his gaze on his daughter, his expression full of protective love. Then he turned to Beth.
“She says she’s happy to meet you, she thinks you’re very pretty, and she loves your costumes. And she says Daniel is the cutest baby she’s ever seen. She wonders if you would be willing to let her hold him.”
Jeannie was watching Beth carefully. She had her hands up against her pink-sequined chest, as if she were holding her breath, awaiting the verdict.
Suddenly she tugged on her dad’s sleeve. He bent down and she signed a little more. She pointed to his wrist cast and giggled.
Scott smiled. Then he turned his gaze once again toward Beth.
“She says to tell you she’ll be very careful. She wants you to know she’s not as clumsy as I am.”
Beth smiled at Jeannie. Daniel was already leaning forward, dazzled by the rhinestones in her tiara. He wanted to be Jeannie’s friend.
She turned to Scott. “What is the sign for yes?”
He hesitated a minute, and then he showed her.
She turned to Jeannie, signed “yes,” and then held Daniel out close to the little girl’s outstretched hands. Jeannie accepted the baby’s wriggling weight with somber care. She adjusted him against her shoulder, patted his back, then dropped a kiss on the back of his head. Without her hands free, she couldn’t sign any words, but the awed look on her face spoke volumes.
“She loves babies,” Scott said. “Funny. It seems like just yesterday she was a baby herself. I know six isn’t such a great age, but the time goes so fast.”
“I know.” Beth was so glad to see Scott so happy. And she was so glad that he was talking to her like this, without the strain she’d seen earlier. “In just the few months I’ve had Daniel, I can already see how quickly they change. It’s exciting. But it’s also…scary.”
He glanced at her. “Most things are a little of both. Most important things, anyhow. Most of the things that are worth doing.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. Was she imagining that his comment was a reference to last night? Just because she had been obsessing about it didn’t mean he had, too.
A gaggle of little girls swarmed up to them then, and the opportunity to respond was lost. He managed to help get Daniel back to her in one piece, before the children could start to kiss and pat and terrify him. But then Scott was swept away in a wave of dancing and laughter.
Suddenly she noticed Angela standing nearby, watching Scott and Jeannie as they went into the house. She was the only person here who hadn’t worn a costume. But perhaps her navy-blue suit was a costume of sorts. She had come as the Perfect Woman, and there was no such thing in the real world. In its way, it was as much an act as Beth’s gypsy.
Beth wondered suddenly what insecurities that costume covered up.
Angela seemed to realize she was being watched, and glanced over at Beth. At first she didn’t recognize her, but Beth saw the moment awareness dawned. Followed by shock. The frowsy “housekeeper” she’d met the other day, was a costumed guest at the party?
Angela hid her surprise well. She opened her lips with her usual frosty half smile. But Beth was surprised to see that her eyes still held a hint of wistful longing, obviously the result of observing the uninhibited love between her ex-husband and her daughter.
“Your daughter is beautiful,” Beth said. Why not make the first move? Even ice queens probably adored their daughters.
“Thank you.” Her glance seemed magnetically drawn back to Jeannie, who was now on Scott’s shoulders, being carried triumphantly through the front door into the house to view her personal “circus.”
“Scott has his flaws,” Angela said, half to herself, her long, manicured fingers playing absently with the pearls of her necklace, “but as a parent, he’s pretty amazing.”
So Beth had been right. An ice queen, yes. But, in the end, just another mother, who feared for her child and prayed that all would be well.
Beth smiled without rancor, suddenly free from intimidation and fear. “Funny,” she said. “That’s almost exactly the same thing he said about you.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Beth wasn’t really sure how it happened, but about halfway through the party, she found herself telling fortunes for the children.
Someone, maybe Otto, draped a purple tablecloth over the kitchen table and brought a big glass bowl out and turned it upside down to create a makeshift crystal ball. The kids thought it was fabulous, and lined up with dimes tightly clutched in their fists, waiting for their turn to cross the gypsy’s palm with silver.
At first Beth was self-conscious. When she’d decided to attend the party, she’d hoped to sit quietly in the background, or anonymously circulate with trays of animal crackers and Panther Punch. She’d never dreamed of being this conspicuous.
But it didn’t take long for the anxiety to fade away. Six-year-old children weren’t exactly very critical audiences. They plopped down on the chair provided, and with wide eyes and open mouths they extended their palms.
Daniel cooperatively slept through most of it, and eventually Beth began to enjoy herself. She discovered she was pretty good at interacting with the children, and it was easy to intuit what they wanted to hear. Mostly, she realized, every human being, big or small, rich or poor, had the same desires. Happiness, love, success.
After that, their costumes gave them away. The ballerinas wanted to be beautiful and admired. The lions and bears wanted to be brave and strong. The unicorns wanted their fantasies to come true. The butterflies craved freedom and grace.
Some of the children were hearing impaired, some weren’t. It didn’t make much difference in their dreams, though. They all nodded seriously and stared at the creases in their hands, trying to see what the gypsy saw.
Their parents came with them, of course, and signed for the children who couldn’t read lips. Beth knew they wanted to be sure the gypsy didn’t scare the little ones, or disappoint them. Occasionally, just for fun, the parents would put out their hands, too. The children would giggle as Beth solemnly intoned the same fortune over and over—great joy, great happiness, great love.
Even the parents looked grateful.
Beth smiled at each one, feeling more comfortable than she had in a long time, as if she actually fit in. Out there, in the real world, they all might be pigeon-holed into different slots—doctor, plumber, homeless mom or CEO.
But here, in the gypsy’s tent, everyone was part of the same human family.
After about an hour, the line tapered off. Beth leaned back in the chair, sighing contentedly. She pulled off her heavy earrings and massaged her aching ears. Beside her, Daniel still slept.
“So.” Scott looked in through the kitchen doorway. “Do you think there’s one last prediction lurking in that crystal ball?”
She dropped the earrings on the table. “Madame Beth doesn’t use the crystal ball,” she said in her best gypsy voice. “Madame Beth sees the future in the palm.”
Scott smiled. “Okay. Read mine, then, and tell me what you see.”
He made his way clumsily to the chair and collapsed into it with a heavy sigh. She wondered if he was tired, or if the crutch was hurting his arm. He had been pushing his limits for hours, trying to be the perfect host in spite of his injuries.
He held out his hand. For just a moment, she hesitated, but then she took it. It was warm under her fingers.
�
��Let me see. Yes. It is a good palm. A good life. You will know great happiness, because you bring great happiness to others.”
He held his palm still, but he shook his head. “That’s not what I want to know.”
She glanced up at him. His face was serious, but his eyes were up-tilted, as if he suppressed a smile.
“Of course,” she continued smoothly. “I see riches, too. Much success, a shower of gold wherever you go.”
He shook his head again, slowly and emphatically. “Nope. Don’t care about the money, either.”
She tilted her head, smiling slightly. “Madame Beth is not finished. You must stop interrupting her. Yes, here, I see long life. You will live to a great age, surrounded by your children, and their children.”
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s not it, either.”
She glared at him. “Do not make Madame Beth angry.”
“Then Madame Beth had better tell me what I want to know. What does my hand show her about romance? More specifically, is there any chance that the woman I care about will ever return my feelings?”
Beth felt herself flushing. She let her fingers go slack, as if to drop his hand. But he was too quick for her. He reached out and reversed their positions, so that her palm lay faceup inside his fingers.
“Obviously Madame Beth doesn’t see these things clearly. I think I’ll have to do the fortune-telling on this one.”
Beth didn’t speak. She felt the familiar tingle of anxiety at being restrained, but she took a deep breath and told her muscles to relax. To her surprise, with very little resistance, they did.
He began to stroke along her palm, slowly, following one of the lines—though, because she was only a pretend gypsy, she had no idea which one it was.
“Look,” he said. “Look at that long line. It shows a long journey, a hard path through sadness and fear. It has taken great courage to get to the end of this path, but you are almost there.”
Her blood was still tingling in her palm, but for once it was a pleasurable sensation. She looked at his head, bent over her hand. She looked at his large, gentle fingers holding her trembling palm.
He hadn’t given up on her.
Outside the kitchen, she heard the sounds of the party winding down. Children’s voices were softer now, their laughter more subdued.
But it all seemed to be happening in some alternate universe. Right now, the four walls of the kitchen seemed like the ends of her earth. And it was all she needed.
“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “It has been difficult, and you have struggled. But it is time to rest. You are almost there.”
She took one more deep breath, for luck. She cleared her throat. “I’m glad to hear it. But where…where does my road end?”
He closed his fingers around her palm.
“Right here, Beth,” he said, guiding her hand to his heart. “The road has led you here to me.”
For once she didn’t hesitate. She felt something warm and blissful spread through her chest, like sunshine moving into a shadowed nook.
She lifted her free hand, curled the fingers in and made the “yes” sign he’d taught her just a few hours ago.
“Yes,” she said tremulously, in case she wasn’t doing it right. And then with more confidence. “Yes.”
It must have been the sign he’d been waiting for. With a crow of pleasure, he laughed triumphantly and leaned across the table to catch her lips with his.
Yes, her heart sang. Yes.
And, for a long time, that would be the only word she needed.
Maybe for the rest of her life.
Dear Reader,
At the best of times, being a mother is scary. A helpless child gazes up at you, depending on you for its very survival. You? With no experience, no confidence…no sleep? For too many women, motherhood doesn’t come at the best of times. It comes when they’re young, poor, homeless. It comes when they’ve been abused or abandoned.
Sally Hanna-Schaefer doesn’t have to imagine how it feels. She’s been there. To support her children after her husband abandoned them, she cleaned houses, took in ironing and offered day care to other women’s kids. She did whatever it took. For most people, that would be victory enough. But Sally Hanna-Schaefer isn’t “most people.” When she got her life in order, she decided to help others.
One step at a time, the miracle of Mother/Child Residential Program was born. In 1981 she opened her first shelter for homeless women with children. Since then, more than six hundred women have “graduated” from Sally’s program. But even Sally, with all her energy, practicality and sheer determination, can’t help everyone. She hopes that her work will inspire others. “There are many ways you could help young women and their babies,” she says. “The CFS Mother/Child Program is located in Woodbury, New Jersey. But every area of the country has similar needs, and starting a ministry for this population is possible anywhere!”
Even if you’re not ready to start your own program, you can help Sally with hers. Go to http://home.comcast.net/~motherchild/gift.htm1 and see the list of items they need. Or send a contribution to Mother/ Child Residential Program, 682 North Broad St., Woodbury, NJ 08096.
With your help, she can realize her dream—“to change the world, one baby at a time.”
Kathleen O’Brien
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1481-5
MORE THAN WORDS
Copyright © 2008 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Linda Lael Miller is acknowledged as the author of Queen of the Rodeo. Sherryl Woods is acknowledged as the author of Black Tie and Promises. Curtiss Ann Matlock is acknowledged as the author of A Place in This World. Jennifer Archer is acknowledged as the author of Hannah’s Hugs. Kathleen O’Brien is acknowledged as the author of Step by Step.
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