by Jeanne Allan
“Nursery school,” Zane echoed blankly.
“I’m gonna play and sing songs, Daddy.”
“Nobody said anything to me about nursery school.”
En route to the house, Allie blew a kiss at his cheek. “It came up out of the blue. At lunch I ran into a friend who runs a super one. I got Hannah in by promising to work there the mornings Hannah attends. It’ll be fun, won’t it, Hannah?”
“Allie and me are going to school.”
His daughter beamed at his wife who beamed back. Zane reined in his irritation. “You might have consulted me.”
“I thought I’d better leap at the opportunity before Darla changed her mind. Nursery school helps socialize kids so they adjust better when they start to kindergarten. I knew you’d want what’s best for Hannah.”
“Maybe I’d like to be the judge of that,” he said tightly.
Opening the door to the house, Allie turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just thought, as her father—”
“Look, Daddy!”
“What do—” Impatient with the interruption, Zane turned to Hannah and totally forgot what he’d been asking.
Holding her new hat, Hannah grinned up at him. “I look just like Allie.”
Zane couldn’t speak. His little baby girl. Her beautiful red hair. Butchered. Her curls. Gone.
His angry roar sent the horses in the near pasture fleeing to the other side.
“It never occurred to me you’d mind,” Allie said again. Zane had recovered his temper enough to make it through dinner and Hannah’s bedtime, but he clearly continued to seethe.
He scowled at her across the length of the living room. “Where the hell do you get off shearing my daughter’s head? She’s not some damned sheep. Enrolling her in school was bad enough. I could cancel that. But cutting her hair! What the hell were you thinking, Allie? Tell me. Please. Tell me. What kind of diabolic person shaves a child’s head? Never mind. I know what kind. It’s your fancy way of getting revenge, isn’t it? You can’t let the past go, can you?”
“Nobody shaved her head.” Staring at him, Allie clutched a pillow to her stomach. How could she have been so wrong?
“You couldn’t make me lose my daughter one way, so you decided to steal her. Ply her with new clothes and presents. Turn her into a miniature clone of you.” Turning on his heel, Zane stared out the window.
His rigid back sent all kinds of messages. Allie didn’t like any of them. She sank back against the sofa. “I wasn’t trying—”
“She’s my daughter, Allie.” He pivoted toward her, his face dark with anger. “Not yours. Mine. I make the decisions about what she wears. I buy her clothes. I decide where and when she goes to school. I decide when and if to cut her hair. Do you understand me? I decide. Hannah’s my daughter. She’s not your daughter.”
Allie understood too well. Laying the pillow across her lap, she meticulously smoothed out the edges. “I understand. She’ll never be my daughter, will she? I misunderstood what you wanted from me. I thought you wanted me to be Hannah’s mother. Obviously I was wrong.” She stood and carefully set the pillow back on the sofa and headed out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“Upstairs to pack. I can’t take everything tonight. Let me know when it’s convenient to come by and pick up the rest of my stuff. You can explain to Hannah.”
“Pack?” Zane followed her up the stairs. “You’re leaving?”
In the bedroom, Allie pulled a suitcase from the closet. “Of course, I’m leaving.”
“Why?” He ran agitated fingers through his hair. “Okay, I’m sorry, I lost my temper. But how could you cut her hair? You had to know I’d hate it.”
She dumped the underwear from the drawer into the suitcase. “If I knew you’d hate it, why would I let her cut it? It wasn’t my idea. She wanted it cut.”
“So she could look like you.”
Allie threw some jeans on top of the underwear. “Is that what bothers you? That she wanted to look like me?” She slammed down the lid to the suitcase. “Are you jealous? Afraid she’ll start liking me better than you?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“It is stupid, isn’t it?” The suitcase wouldn’t snap shut. Allie jerked it open and tossed a pair of jeans on the floor. “That’s not what this is about. It’s about trust. You don’t trust me with Hannah. It doesn’t matter what I say, you think I’m planning to harm her because of what you did to me. No matter what I do, you’ll always be worried about my exacting revenge.”
“I didn’t say that. All I said was, she’s my daughter and I think it’s reasonable for you to consult me before making major decisions about her life.”
The forbearance in his voice infuriated Allie. Or it would have, if she’d been capable of feeling. His accusations and lack of trust had numbed her hours ago. She prayed the numbness lasted until she escaped this nightmare. Yanking at the wedding ring on her finger, she tossed it on the bed and picked up the suitcase.
Moonie and Amber waited in the hall outside Zane’s bedroom. Allie had intended leaving them until tomorrow, but they followed her to the front door. Allie swallowed over the hard, painful lump in her throat, “If you want, I’ll try and find another pet for Hannah.”
“Forget it. We don’t need anything from you.”
She would not cry. Not yet. “I know.”
In the car, the ranch gate behind her, Allie dialed the familiar number with shaking fingers. Worth answered. Allie broke out sobbing.
“Allie? Is that you? What’s wrong?”
When Worth kept asking if it was her, she realized he couldn’t see her nodding her head. “I left,” she sobbed.
“Are you in Aspen?”
“On the way.” Gulping sobs separated the words.
“Pull over to the side of the road right now and blow your nose. Then quit crying.”
“I can’t.”
“Don’t be so damned self-involved,” Worth snapped. “Do it. Other people use that road. You can cry all you want when you get to your condo. I’ll meet you there. Pull over this second. And stop crying, damn it.” He hung up.
Giving a tiny hiccup of tear-laced laughter, Allie pulled over to the side of the road and blew her nose.
Worth must have broken all speed records racing to the condo. The minute Allie drove up, he opened her car door, holding her tight as she collapsed in his arms.
CHAPTER TEN
“HE MUST have married you for a reason,” Greeley said in a muffled voice.
“Of course he married me for a reason. He thought having a wife would help if he got entangled in a custody battle. And he wanted sex.”
“I think he could get all the sex he wanted without bothering to marry some woman.”
“Not the honorable Zane Peters. He has a daughter to think of. Heaven forbid Hannah should ever discover her father fools around. Not to mention the courts in a fight for custody.”
Greeley rolled her head out from under Worth’s pickup. “Did you ever stop to think maybe you jumped to a few conclusions?”
“I didn’t jump. Zane shoved me. You should have heard him, Greeley. The whole time we were married. It was always his house, his horses, his ranch, his daughter, his everything. Not once did he use the word our.”
Her sister selected a wrench and disappeared under the pickup again. “Hannah called the ranch house yesterday. Ruth helped her dial the number. She asked Mom where you were.”
Allie pressed her lips together. Her one regret was leaving Hannah. Poor little girl. Once again the innocent victim of adults who made a mess of their lives. “I would have had to leave sooner or later. It’s better to do it now.”
“You could at least call her.”
“And tell her what? That I had to leave because her father is afraid I’ll strangle her in her bed or something?”
Greeley stuck her head out. “You’re in love with him.”
“So what?” A
llie snapped.
“Did you tell him?”
“Why? So he’d have something else to yell about?”
“You were afraid to tell him. Afraid to trust him.”
“I would have gotten around to it,” Allie said defensively. “I was waiting for the right time. Trust had nothing to do with it. And what if it did? He let me down before, remember?”
Greeley tapped the wrench on the tire beside her. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’re mad at Zane because he doesn’t trust you, right?”
“It’s not the same thing at all.”
“You mean Zane should trust you and one of these days you’ll get around to trusting him.”
Allie picked up Greeley’s oily rag from the shed floor, pulling it between her hands. “If you could have seen his face. Heard the things he said. I’d never do anything to hurt Hannah. Never. How could he believe I would? I know what he heard me say at the hospital. I told him I changed my mind. I agreed to try to make our marriage work. He doesn’t believe any of that. I couldn’t stay. We’d eat away at each other, growing more bitter and hateful. Leaving was the best thing, the only thing, I could do. For Hannah. For Zane. For me.”
Zane didn’t know why everyone blamed the whole mess on him. He wasn’t the one who slashed off Hannah’s hair. Allie refused to answer her phone or return his calls. Once he’d reached Cheyenne, but she’d agreed so coolly and reluctantly to tell Allie he’d called, he doubted she would. Ruth had been giving him the silent treatment, while Wally had taken to short, succinct answers. His mother didn’t believe Hannah’s hair could look that bad, and his father told him he was a damned fool. Zane would swear, even the damned paint blamed him and was sulking.
As for Hannah, overnight she’d metamorphosed from a sweet little girl into a fretful, whining brat. When she wasn’t whining about missing Allie, she whined about Allie taking Moonie and Amber with her. Zane had offered to find her a new cat or dog, but no, his daughter wanted Moonie and Amber.
How did you tell a little girl someone didn’t like her simply because of the circumstances of her birth?
He’d tried to forget Allie admitting she resented and disliked Hannah. Wanted to forget because he wanted to sleep with Allie. His father was right He was a damned fool, just not in the way his father meant.
Zane couldn’t deny that Allie had been honest about one thing at least. She’d flat out admitted she wanted revenge.
How the hell could she turn around and blame him for wanting to protect his daughter from her?
Across the table, Hannah kicked the legs of her booster chair. “I don’t like this.” She shoved her plate away. “I don’t wanna eat it.”
Zane counted silently to ten before answering patiently. “You like macaroni and cheese.” He’d asked Ruth to fix it, knowing it was one of Hannah’s favorite foods.
“I hate it. Allie wouldn’t make me eat stuff I hate.”
“Allie’s not here anymore.”
“I want Allie back.”
Zane had no answer for that. The truth was, so did he.
If only Allie would try to understand. Hannah was his daughter. He’d fed her and changed her diapers and rocked her to sleep and bathed her. He’d coaxed medicine down her tiny throat and sat up all night with her when she had earaches. When she’d had a temperature of 104 degrees, he’d wiped her with cool cloths and prayed for her recovery. This small, exquisite person had come into the world because of him, and she depended on him to keep her safe and well.
Hannah leaned back and plopped her feet on the table.
“What do you think you’re doing, young lady? And don’t tell me Allie let you put your feet on the dinner table.”
Hannah pushed out her lower lip. “They’re ugly toes.”
Zane stood and walked around the table. Gently moving Hannah’s feet, he said, “They’re not ugly toes, but they don’t belong on the table.”
“They’re ugly.” She kicked the table leg and didn’t look at him. “I want Allie to fix them.”
Zane caught one of her feet. The toenail polish had mostly worn off. “I have an idea. Why don’t I paint your toenails?”
Hannah jerked her foot away. “Allie took the polish.”
“We can buy more.”
“Don’t want more,” Hannah said mulishly. “Want Allie’s.”
Zane went back to his chair. “Allie’s not coming back,” he said quietly. Hannah started crying, the sobs ripping apart his heart. He forced himself to eat.
He’d give Hannah anything he could.
He couldn’t give her Allie.
The macaroni stuck in his throat and he thought he’d choke trying to swallow it. Doggedly he kept eating. Across the table Hannah’s crying continued unabated.
If only Allie had been patient. He loved her. He would have come to trust her eventually. If she’d loved him, she would have been patient. She would have understood. It wasn’t as if he was testing her. He’d needed a little time.
He’d thought they were going to make it this time. Allie was right. There was no happily ever after for them.
He’d never eat macaroni and cheese again.
Zane knew the approaching pickup couldn’t be Allie. That didn’t stop him from hoping.
Greeley halted the pickup a few feet from the barn. “Hi.”
He gripped the pitchfork tightly. “She forget something?”
Greeley raised an eyebrow. “What happened to pleasantries like hello, how are you?”
Zane locked his jaw in place. He didn’t give a damn about pleasantries.
She uttered a short laugh. “Thanks for asking, Zane. I’m fine. How are you?”
“What do you want?”
“Cheyenne sent me. She wanted to come, but Thomas has absolutely forbidden her to interfere. Ordinarily that wouldn’t stop her, but she’s a newlywed and letting Thomas think he’s running the show.”
The undoubted truth of Greeley’s words forced reluctant laughter from Zane. “Poor sucker.”
“You ought to know how it is. The Lassiter women can be real pains in the neck. Mom and I excepted, of course.”
“I suppose you’ll tell me in your own sweet time what you want.”
“I understand you have a birthday coming up in a couple of weeks. I brought you an early present.”
“From Allie?” He couldn’t suppress a tiny burst of hope.
Greeley gave him a mocking look. “At this point, if I were you, if I received anything from Allie, I’d put it in a bucket of water and call the bomb squad.”
He tried to keep the disappointment from his face.
“I swear, Zane,” Greeley said in disgust, “you are the world’s biggest idiot. If you love her that much, why’d you run her off?”
“Who said I love her?”
Greeley shook her head and handed him a large envelope. “Cheyenne found these in Allie’s trash can. Allie had planned to give them to you for your birthday. Cheyenne said if you breathe one word of this to Thomas, she’ll skin you alive.” Putting the pickup in gear, Greeley reversed and was gone before Zane could ask what was in the envelope.
Divorce papers would come from an attorney.
Leaning the pitchfork against the barn wall, he slowly pulled off his gloves, dropping them on the ground. He turned the envelope over. Trying to place the name on the front side, it took a second before the word “Photographer” penetrated his brain.
He ripped open the envelope. Photographer’s proofs rained to the ground. Zane bent down and retrieved them one by one.
The first few proofs portrayed Hannah. She sat on a lush carpet of grass reading a book, one bare foot propped on the knee of her other leg. Zane had seen her sit that way so often, he visualized her toes wiggling as she read the book, making up the story as she turned the pages. Sprawling behind her, Moonie, acting as her back rest, gave every indication of listening intently.
Zane moved on to the second set of poses. If the first pictures made him smile, these made h
im want to laugh. Or cry. The photographer had snapped Allie and Hannah blowing soap bubbles. Allie, on her knees in the grass, concentrated on blowing a bubble that had already reached monstrous size. Hannah, her own bubble wand forgotten, watched the bubble grow, her eyes as big as the bubble. The hat Allie wore matched Hannah’s floppy blue denim hat.
In the third pose Allie and Hannah had collapsed in a heap on the grass while dozens of effervescent bubbles rained down on them. Zane could almost hear Hannah giggling helplessly. He could only imagine how the photographer managed to take several shots of the scene before the bubbles popped or floated away. Allie must have worn herself out blowing bubbles.
There was only one version of the final pose. Hannah sat sleepily on Allie’s lap. Hannah’s hat lay on the ground. Her hair had already been cut.
With her hair short, Hannah looked a lot like Allie. He hadn’t noticed before. The significance of Hannah wanting short hair belatedly occurred to him. The children Hannah knew all had mothers. His sister’s children. His friends’ children. Davy. Hannah was bright. She must have heard over and over again someone say a child looked like his or her mother. Having a mother who played with angels couldn’t compete with having a mother to look like. The photographic proof blurred.
He’d been so mixed up loving Allie and being afraid to trust her, he hadn’t realized Hannah had picked herself a new mother. The last proof clearly pointed out what else he’d blindly missed. The love on Allie’s face as she looked down at Hannah. Allie couldn’t have known the photographer was taking the last picture. She’d never have allowed such naked feeling to be photographed.
He was a damned fool.
Allie could love the most miserable, ill-begotten, mangy, snarling beast. What the hell had made him think she couldn’t love Hannah?
“Whatcha got, Daddy?” Hannah came running up and pulled down his arm to see what he held. “How come you got the pictures? Is today your birthday?”
“No.” Suddenly he grinned. “Yes, in a way, it is, honey. If a birthday is the first day of a person’s life, then today’s my birthday.”
“We gonna have cake and ice cream?”
