Hope’s Child

by Helen R. Myers

  Lyon sat back against the sturdy oak backrest. It wasn’t that he couldn’t eat; he couldn’t believe that with all that had happened, she had the strength and was in the frame of mind to care. “Hope…you have to quit and sit down. Preferably lie down. Remember, I’m the guy who knows too well what you’ve been through and I’m not above calling my doctor to come check you for a slow-to-show-itself injury.”

  “Don’t threaten, Lyon. Believe it or not this is soothing and stabilizing for me. I’ll warm some for us.”

  She took out the plate of quesadillas, plates to match the bowls, and set out napkins and silverware on the placemats. By then it was time to get out the soup and put in the rest of their meal.

  Leaning over his steaming bowl, Lyon moaned in pleasure. “The accolades don’t do this justice.”

  Hope waved him on with a potholder. “Don’t wait on me, dig in.”

  Tempting as the encouragement was, he did wait until the rest was on the counter and she was seated beside him. Finally, he lifted the first spoonful to his lips, mindful of the stitches. After a deep-throated groan, he said, “This is better than any pain medication, and perfect for this damp-to-your-bones weather.”

  “I’m so glad. If you’d like, I can give you a take-home container for your dinner?”

  “You won’t have to offer twice. It’s good to see you use black beans instead of refried stuff and that you put corn in yours,” he said holding up a last bite. “My mother did, too. It’s depressing how often what you get in this town is taco filling. Taco filling and refried beans masquerading as a quesadilla, taco filling as a Sloppy Joe, and taco filling as chili.”

  “I’ll bet your mother is basking in your praise of her cooking,” Hope said watching him devour the last bite and lick his fingers. “I used to buy strawberry preserves from her every year, and sweet onions. Our housekeeper could never find better.”

  “She told me.” Lyon was glad she remembered that. He wondered if she had ever seen him watch her from the barn as she stopped at his parents’ little fruit stand by the roadway in front of the farmhouse? “She said she couldn’t believe anything as sweet and well-mannered as you could come from a man so twisted inside.”

  “No, no one will ever mistake my father for Santa Claus.” Hope put down her spoon and looked straight into his eyes. “Lyon, I know you must miss your parents terribly. I still miss my mother although she’s been gone years longer.”

  “I didn’t mean to depress you further,” he began.

  “You aren’t. But you’d make me feel much better if you promised that you aren’t going to let some troublemakers chase you out of town?”

  “Whoa,” Lyon said slowly and eased the placemat further onto the counter so he could rest his aching arm on his good one. “That was a quick transition.”

  “I could tell by your eyes that you were getting impatient to know why I’d asked you here.”

  Lyon knew it would be a miracle in a community of less than five thousand people to avoid hearing when someone wanted your head on a platter along with your badge, but he’d hoped Hope had missed the ugly gossip nonetheless. “Not impatient,” he replied. “Just concerned that something else was troubling you when you already have enough on your plate. Don’t give Rochelle any more thought than she deserves.”

  “There are more people than Rochelle making accusations and demands,” Hope replied in concern, “and you know it. I was appalled when I heard Clyde and Mercy say they agreed with her that you’d let Will die and told them so. All they had to do is look at your wounds…” Hope shook her head. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have walked up to your car by myself and not allowed you to carry me. That would have given you more time to try and get Will out.”

  “You couldn’t have walked, sweetheart. It was later determined that the truck rolled at least five times. The miracle was that you weren’t killed, too, especially since the air bags didn’t deploy.”

  Hope blinked clearly unaware of that. “They didn’t, did they?”

  “Your lawyer will need that information,” he continued. “I can supply you with the paperwork whenever necessary.”

  “My lawyer—Lyon, I’m not going to sue,” she replied her disbelief leaving her wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t do that any more than I would blame you for Will dying.” Hope swiveled her chair so that she was facing him and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her thighs so she could clasp her hands. “He had been drinking. You know that.”

  “That’s why I’m loathe to absolve myself of all blame,” he replied grimly. “If I hadn’t delayed my following you outside to wait on George so I could let him know that I’d be back to monitor his locking up and escort him to the bank’s night deposit, I wouldn’t have missed Will grabbing the keys from you.”

  Hope smiled sadly. “I know. Things happen, Lyon. I was wrong for getting in the truck with him. But there were things that needed to be said.”

  Lyon had been haunted by the image of the empty parking slot ever since the wreck and by his imagination of how much worse things could have turned out. “If it’s any consolation,” he added quietly, “I’m sure Will was gone before the first explosion.”

  Although she closed her eyes, she nodded. “I think so, too.”

  Relieved that she didn’t harbor any doubt, Lyon sat back in his chair slowly exhaling. “So let people say what they want. Things will calm down eventually.”

  Hope failed to look reassured. “Kent will stand by you, but only as long as it doesn’t compromise his own political well-being. What I’m worried about is Clyde and Mercy agreeing with Rochelle, and more than that the talk of getting someone ‘more dedicated’ to take your place.”

  Wanting to make things easier for her, Lyon murmured, “I’ve heard what your father has been saying, Hope.”

  She bowed her head. “I’m so ashamed of him—he actually claims changing police chiefs would be good for the community. He means good for his position in the community. He just wants his own yes-man wearing your badge.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but if it comes to a question about the community’s trust in me, I won’t beg to keep the job. If trust in my work is so thin that one bombastic voice can oust someone with a proven record, then I don’t want to be here.”

  Hope straightened, her expression growing anxious. “But we need you. You’ve seen how the population is growing—all that money coming from Dallas, people investing in gentlemen ranches, land prices going up when everywhere else it’s a buyer’s market. There’s a power play going on and we need the rest of the community keeping a check on balance. I’m doing what I can, but…things have happened and I may have to cut back a bit on my pace.”

  Alarms went off inside Lyon. So his suspicions that she’d been avoiding him were true. Words came rushing out of him before he could stop them. “Damn it, Hope, I knew you were holding something in. What’s happened? Did Will do something before the crash?”

  “No. I mean it’s not what you think. I’m sore, yes, but nothing else.”

  “Then what is it?” he demanded.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Thinking that she would be relieved to finally say it, Hope instead felt regret as she saw Lyon’s shock, then his coloring turn ashen. His dark eyes inherited from his Cherokee mother lost all light and became like twin dark tunnels, an abyss to despair. When he covered his eyes with his uninjured hand, she felt her throat tighten with emotion. He was disappointed in her. He knew that Will had not changed and was wondering how she could stay with him, let alone get pregnant by him.

  About to try to explain, she saw Lyon drag his hand down his face, rub his mouth, and clench his fingers into a fist.

  “And you’re telling me that you’re okay?” he finally muttered. “How would you know? You left the hospital before I did having refused the tests that might have proved otherwise.”

  This was hardly what she expected him to say. Heartened, she impulsively touched his hand hoping to make him unde
rstand. “I needed to buy some time. I had to get through this week and today without all of the extra gossip and stares that would have occurred if I’d let them do what they would have done in ER…. you know the lab results would have spread through town and points beyond faster than a Tweet.”

  “Are you saying Ellis doesn’t even know yet?”

  Hope made a ladylike scoffing sound. “If he did, that private reception at the ranch would be about buying me a husband before the family name is tarnished.”

  Lyon stared, incredulous. “Hope, the only one in danger of injuring your family name is the man who tries every day—Ellis himself.”

  She wanted to hug Lyon for completely disregarding the possibility that the baby was anyone’s but Will’s. His faith in her was a balm soothing her battered heart. “You’re not thinking like my father does. Had I told him right away, he would be brooding over the lost opportunity of getting his hands on Nichols’ property. Next on his mind, even before Will was in the ground, would be recovering some return on an asset, namely me. The fact that I’m as independent as I am constantly grates on his nerves, so he would never stand by and watch me get bloated like a beached whale without quickly trying to recoup some of his investment in me.”

  Veins at both of Lyon’s temples grew pronounced. “Hope—that’s outrageous.”

  The mere tip of the iceberg in her father’s frozen-in-time way of thinking, she thought. “Sounds like something you’re more likely to hear from the lands of lashings and stonings, isn’t it? But sadly true. It wasn’t too long ago that he genuinely mourned that he couldn’t legally arrange a marriage for me. Mind you, I’d already been living on my own for a few years. He’s entirely able and willing to try anyway. That’s why I had to think things through first.”

  “How on earth did your mother manage to stay married to him?”

  “She loved him,” Hope replied with a shrug. “There were days when they barely spoke to each other, and I remember times growing up when she locked him out of their bedroom for days, but he was always allowed back in eventually. Without a doubt, the man was her Achilles’ heel.”

  When Lyon failed to remark on that and remained silent, Hope caught on to what he must be thinking. “Yes, that’s what I needed to discuss with Will and why I got into the truck with him. I told him about the baby. That’s what led to the accident.”

  “You argued?”

  “You know me better than that. But his adrenaline was flowing anyway—no doubt fueled by the alcohol. He pumped the air like a boxing champion and shouted, ‘Jackpot!’”

  “He said what?”

  Hope nodded at his double-take. “I found that odd, too. Especially since he was responsible for protection because I was temporarily unable to continue with my birth control.” Unwilling to let herself get upset again, she waved away all the negative baggage that flooded her mind like a bad dream. “Maybe that was too much information, even if the policeman is a friend,” she said wryly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop that,” Lyon replied. “You know that’s exactly why I need to know. And as your friend I want to understand.”

  “Then let me get the rest out and I’ll be happy not to broach the subject again.” Not even to my child when he or she is old enough to ask questions, she promised herself. “When Will said and acted the way he did, I suddenly had a really bad feeling. I asked him if he’d tampered with the condoms.” She turned to Lyon. “I was every bit as angry with what I learned as I was with what I saw when I entered the bar earlier. It turns out that he was in financial trouble and knew he might need my father’s help if he couldn’t repay the bank loan in time. My being pregnant was insurance to him. We were already having trouble in the faithfulness department. Correction, he was.

  “When I heard his rationale for getting me pregnant, I told him regardless of the baby, the wedding was off. That’s when I took off the engagement ring and put it in the ashtray. He got upset. He tried to make me put it back on and that’s when he lost control of the truck.”

  In that instant Lyon looked more capable of violence than she’d ever seen him. But when he took her left hand with his right one, his touch was indescribably gentle. “If he’d hurt you more severely, I’d have ruined his pretty face for life. I’ll never forgive him for what he did.”

  “Lyon—”

  “Promise me that you’ll call a doctor as soon as I leave?”

  “Soon. There are a few more things that I need to resolve.”

  “What could be more important?” Lyon assured her, “I meant what I said. I didn’t come here as a cop. Will used up my concern for him a long time ago. I came to see about you and find out what I could do to help.”

  “There is one thing.”

  “Yes, I’ll drive you to the doctor. What else?”

  “Marry me.”

  Chapter Two

  Lyon’s heart thudded as hard as it ever had on the football field. He was so burning mad at Will that he wasn’t sure he’d heard Hope correctly at first, or was it wishful thinking? Had the big jerk survived the accident, he would have begged for the hereafter by the time Lyon finished with him.

  Wherever you are, pal, you’re getting off easy.

  Hope was going to have a baby? His heart and stomach wrenched with dread. Granted, women did it every day and had since the beginning of time, but not Hope. She was too small, and she was virtually alone with no mother, no sister…zero close family to help in the ways that count. Fathers were useless at this stage and Ellis was ten times worse than that. Sure, she had friends…anyone with her type of accessibility and warm personality had friends. But Hope was so busy taking care of others, there wasn’t much time left for enjoying her property as she deserved, let alone nurturing those relationships. Add that for all of her compassion, she was more like him—a loner who needed her private time to stay balanced—and Lyon experienced a deep-seated anxiety for her that he hadn’t felt since hearing the weather reports prior to the storm a few years back that had killed his parents.

  Marry me.

  “You’re right about your father descending on you like an F-4 tornado once he learns your condition,” Lyon said finally. “But I’d only make things worse for you, Hope. You said it yourself—people have me in their crosshairs and want me gone.” The irony didn’t escape him in how quickly he had gone from dismissing her concerns as unlikely to a determination that she not get hurt from being too close to him.

  “I think I can help make that a short-term threat. I’m a believer in the safety-in-numbers theory. There are things I can do and say to help word get out to residents who wouldn’t otherwise hear about the plan to get you fired until it’s too late.”

  “My denigrators will come after you for supporting me. How in good conscience could I allow that, particularly in your condition?”

  “Maybe I can trigger a few consciences myself and people won’t allow themselves to say things to me that they might to you—or the fact that I believe in you will make them wonder how true the accusations are? And who says anyone else needs to know about my condition? For the time being anyway,” Hope added at his arched look.

  “Are you suggesting we pass the baby off as mine?” he asked slowly.

  “Maybe I’m splitting hairs, but I was thinking that if we’re not announcing a pregnancy, there’s no deception. That’s why I want to get a doctor out of town.”

  “Let me tell you the not-so-little flaw in your logic,” Lyon replied, not unkindly. “There’s going to be a bump where that flat tummy is now—and sooner than you think because with fate being as unkind to you as it is, that baby is going to take after Will. So much for any delay of full disclosure, unless you think it would work to suggest we’d had an affair behind his back—and you know that it wouldn’t. You were about to be married to a local icon. As it is, I’d be accused of taking advantage of you while you’re at your most vulnerable.”

  Raising her chin slightly, Hope replied, “I’ve been ‘vulnerable’ for months…
if not all along. Did you catch sight of who else was at the funeral? Rochelle didn’t try in the least to hide herself, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if more of her type come out of the woodwork as time goes by.” That was why she couldn’t cry for Will and probably never would. He’d soiled any good memory she had of their time together and crushed any tenderness she’d held for him.

  “Hope,” Lyon reasoned drawing her attention back to him. “I’m not from the wrong side of the tracks, but my pedigree is nothing to the Nichols’. Marrying me is the one thing that might make your father disown you or have me murdered.”

  “That’s not remotely funny, Lyon,” Hope replied frowning. “What’s more if my family’s blood was ever blue, it was due to my mother.” She softened her voice. “You’re not going to choose now to tell me you’re a reverse snob, are you?”

  “What I am,” he intoned, “is trying to save you from your own good intentions. You’re trying to make me feel that I would be helping you as much as you would be helping me, and I just don’t see it. I’d hurt you, Hope.”

  “No, aside from the mental pounding by my father, you’d give me protection from Clyde and Mercy.”

  “How so?”

  “Technically Will’s child would have rights to his estate, but I want them to have it.”

  “That alone would give your father a stroke.”

  “How else could I avoid them claiming visitation rights like some surrogate grandparents? I’ve seen enough this week to know they intend to stay close to the estate no matter who or what is in the way.” Hope shook her head. “I refuse to put an innocent child into an atmosphere that makes him, or her, an obstruction.”

  Lyon looked torn, but when he spoke, all he said was, “When would you want to do this?”

  Pressing her hand to her heart to ease the fluttering, Hope replied, “Could you check your calendar and let me know what dates you have free?”

  “I’ll also have to think a bit more on which explanation angle would work best for you. What if you have a blond-haired, blue-eyed baby next February or March? The nurses will panic at the first feeding time thinking there was a mistake made in the wrist banding.”