Manny, intent on his breakfast, didn’t give her much more than an ear flicker in response.
Undeterred, Phoebe leaned forward to scratch behind one of those ears. “I didn’t think I would like the outdoors at all,” she told him. “Too much back to nature. But it’s growing on me. I don’t think I’ll ever prefer a tent and an air mattress to a real house and bed, but I understand the appeal of a couple of nights in the wilderness.”
She refused to admit how much of that appeal related to her encounters with Zane. Last night she’d almost been disappointed that she hadn’t had to make a midnight potty run. She supposed she could have faked it, in the hopes of seeing him, but somehow that had seemed tacky. Instead she’d lain awake in her tent and listened to the sounds of night, all the while wondering if Zane was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him.
“It’s not just that he’s good-looking,” she said. “Okay, some of it is that. I mean, have you seen his body?”
Manny raised his head. His big, brown eyes seemed to roll slightly in his head. She grinned.
“I know. He’s a guy, you’re a guy. You don’t have to admit that he’s hot, but he is. You’re going to have to trust me on that. But it’s more than that. He’s also really nice. I like how dependable he is and how he’s the kind of man who will always be there for his family. He’s smart, too. He has a lot of responsibility, but that doesn’t seem to bother him.”
Thinking about responsibility made her remember hers. All her clients who were having to get by without her. April had promised to handle her houses in escrow. While Phoebe trusted her boss to do the work, she knew April’s heart wouldn’t be into it. A lot of agents had trouble getting excited about relatively low-priced starter homes when there were multimillion-dollar estates in the neighborhood.
“She doesn’t get it,” Phoebe told the steer. “April thinks I should concentrate on what will make me the most money. I know that’s important, but so is helping people find their first home. They’re usually terrified and excited. Then they find out the house is theirs.” She sighed. “There’s no feeling like that. Not for them or for me. Because I know I was a part of making it happen.”
She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose my license. I love what I do. I’m not a great salesperson, but I genuinely care, and I believe that makes a difference. My clients need me.”
And being needed was the best part of her day.
“I don’t want to think about it,” she whispered to the steer. “But I have to. I’ll have to find a whole new career.”
Doing what? She really didn’t have any other training. It wasn’t the sales she loved, it was the people. So her experience in real estate wasn’t exactly going to translate into selling cars or clothes.
At least her expenses weren’t all that high. She had some savings to tide her over until she found some other line of work. It wasn’t as if she had to worry about a house payment.
“Zane was surprised when I told him I didn’t own a house,” she said. “Being in real estate and all, I guess it makes sense I would have one. I mean, I would be the first to spot a good deal, right? Only I never bothered.”
She glanced around to make sure she and Manny were still alone. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserve a house. Isn’t that crazy? Like I’m not worthy.”
She’d sort of hoped saying the words out loud would make her feel foolish, and she would instantly see that she’d been playing a silly game with herself. Instead she was struck by the thought that she’d never felt worthy. That was the reason she was always rescuing the world. She was trying to earn her way into heaven. Barring that, she was trying to earn her way into happiness.
“Not exactly a plan to make me the poster child for mental health,” she said.
Manny stopped chewing long enough to gently butt his head against her arm. She took the action to mean he was offering his own version of cattle comfort.
“I appreciate you listening,” she said. “I guess this is hard for you to understand. I’ve always been looking for a place to belong, and you’ve always been where you’re a part of things.” She frowned slightly. “Do you have a family?”
She remembered then that Manny was a steer and, by definition, would not be having children. “I didn’t mean kids,” she amended quickly. “Just brothers and sisters. Parents. Do you have someone to love?”
There it was. Her big secret. What she wanted more than anything was someone to love who would love her back.
“I want to be first in someone’s life,” she whispered. “Their most important person. But so far it hasn’t happened.”
A crashing in the bushes made Phoebe straighten and turn toward the sound. More raccoons looking for accessories? No, it was too big to be a masked bandit. A bear?
Before she could decide if she should panic, or scream, or hide behind Manny, Maya stepped into the clearing. She glanced from Phoebe to the steer and raised her eyebrows.
“Talking to the animals? Is that really how you want to start your day?”
“Manny was helping me get my life back on track. We’re discussing life goals and career choices.”
Maya held up her hands. “Not before coffee, I beg you.”
“But it’s an important conversation to have. I’m twenty-seven, and all my life I’ve wanted a family. So why aren’t I married? Am I really that bad at picking guys? Is it something else? Do I feel I don’t deserve happiness, so I unconsciously pick the one guy who won’t want to commit or will be mean to me? Am I trapped in a female rescue fantasy?” She patted Manny’s neck. “I don’t think I’m a lesbian.”
Maya snorted. “You’re not a lesbian. As for picking the wrong guy, you do seem to be gifted in that department. I’m not sure why.” She shook her head. “Didn’t I say I didn’t want to have this conversation until after coffee?”
“But it’s important. I want to belong.”
“Why? Belonging is highly overrated.”
“So it’s the rescue fantasy?” Phoebe asked.
“I don’t think so. Are you waiting to be rescued? God knows I’m not. I’m plenty able to rescue myself. Besides, you’re always rescuing the world. Doesn’t that mean you’re strong?”
Did it? Or did it mean she wasn’t comfortable allowing someone to care about her? Being vulnerable meant opening herself up to hurt. Needing meant risking not getting what she wanted. Far safer to be the giver than the givee.
“You’re right,” Phoebe said. “We both need coffee.”
“And a change in subject. Come on. Zane sent me to find you and bring you back for breakfast.” She grinned. “Apparently he’s worried about you.”
“He worries about everyone,” Phoebe said, trying not to be pleased by Maya’s words. “It’s his nature.”
“That’s true. Zane would love to be in charge of the world. He gets off on bossing people around.”
“It’s not that,” Phoebe said. “He takes his responsibilities seriously.”
“Defending him again?”
Phoebe waved goodbye to Manny and started down the path. “He doesn’t need me to defend him. He’s strong enough to take care of himself.”
“Interesting.” Maya walked next to her. “So here’s this big, hunky guy who doesn’t need you to rescue him. No wonder you’re all atwitter around him. You don’t know what to do.”
Phoebe wanted to kick a rock. It figured Maya would manage to put it all together in about fifteen seconds. It was her own fault for having a smart friend.
Maya was right. If Zane didn’t need Phoebe to take care of him, what on earth would he need her for? And if he didn’t need her, why would he want her? She understood the theory that some men cared about women just because. That the women didn’t have to do anything to earn the affection. It wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced in her own life.
“Zane isn’t for me,” she said firmly.
Maya laughed. “That
sounds really good, but I can’t help wondering who you’re trying to convince.”
* * *
C.J. KNELT IN the tent she shared with Thad and finished packing the few items she’d used during the night. Her brain felt foggy, probably from a lack of sleep. She’d lain awake most of the night, staring up at the tent ceiling, examining her life and not liking what she discovered. She’d also thought a lot about how to change. Was there a way to stop her downward spiral into bitterness and anger? Did any of the happy, cheerful, loving person she used to be still exist?
Despite the long hours spent in contemplation, she hadn’t come up with an answer to any of those questions, but she knew she had to keep trying to find them. She had to take a first step. Maybe that involved accepting that she and Thad were never going to have a baby. Not theirs, not someone else’s.
She knew she hadn’t accepted that truth. Not yet. She’d raged, she’d fumed, she’d plotted. She’d folded in on herself. But she’d never actually accepted it and moved on. She’d never tried to heal. She’d convinced herself that without a baby, her life wasn’t worth anything, that she wasn’t worth anything. And she’d tried to drag Thad into the abyss with her.
If she didn’t get a grip on this, she would lose her husband. She might also lose herself.
Finished with the saddlebags, she crawled out of the tent and stood. The morning was crisp and clear. She and Thad didn’t get out of the city enough, she thought. They should plan weekends up in the mountains. There were many wonderful places to be found only a few hours outside of San Francisco. They could—
C.J. heard a sound and turned. She saw Lucy backing out of the tent she shared with Tommy. At the sight of the child’s slight body and ratty hair, C.J. stiffened. Anger swelled up inside of her. But this time, instead of giving in to the hot emotion, she took a deep breath and tried to figure out why Lucy made her so furious. What about this girl pushed her buttons? Was it the girl’s fault that she had no family and no one to take care of her? Was it the girl’s fault that Thad liked her?
Had C.J. become so blindly selfish that she resented the child even being alive if she, C.J., couldn’t have the baby she wanted?
The possibility shocked her so much, she took an involuntary step back. Lucy glanced in her direction. The child’s expression immediately turned wary.
C.J. didn’t blame her. She’d been nothing but a nightmare since the second she’d laid eyes on Lucy.
“Good morning,” she said, going for a somewhat cheerful voice. She wanted to make amends, not terrify the child.
Lucy blinked at her. She didn’t respond, but she also didn’t run away.
C.J. tried a slight smile. “Did you sleep well?”
Still looking apprehensive and not the least bit trusting, Lucy nodded slowly. Her matted hair swayed with the movement.
C.J. eyed the dark strands. If combed out, her hair would probably come to the middle of her back. It was a mess and ugly, but with a little care, it could be attractive. Didn’t most little girls want to be pretty?
“Lucy, would you like me to braid your hair?” she asked before she could stop herself with second thoughts. “I think that style would look nice on you, and it would keep your hair out of your face while you are riding.”
Lucy’s mouth twisted as her eyes narrowed. C.J. knew exactly what she was thinking. The kid was trying to figure out how she would use this offer to trip her up.
I am a complete and total bitch, C.J. thought grimly.
“I know how to French braid,” she said in a pathetic attempt to make the offer more enticing. Suddenly it was very important to do this for Lucy, although C.J. was not willing to say why.
“I don’t have a brush or nothing,” the girl said defiantly, as she squared her thin shoulders.
“I have a brush. And a rubber band for the bottom.” C.J. bent down and grabbed her saddlebag. “In here. I’d have to get the tangles out of your hair first, but I’d be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”
As she spoke the words, C.J. realized she was telling the truth. She didn’t want to hurt Lucy. She didn’t want to be a horrible person anymore.
She crossed to a fallen log and sat down. After patting the space next to herself, she waited.
Lucy sucked in a breath. She glanced around, then looked at the saddlebags. Longing darkened her eyes. Finally she walked forward slowly and perched on the log.
Relief swept over C.J. She fumbled with the buckle, then opened the bag and pulled out a wide-toothed comb.
“I’m going to start at the bottom and work up,” she said as she leaned toward the girl. “I’ll do my best not to tug too hard, but if it hurts, you tell me and I’ll stop.”
“Okay.” Lucy sounded doubtful.
C.J. began to work. The tangles came out more easily than she’d thought they would. The girl’s hair wasn’t wiry, only messy. Once combed, it was sleek and shiny.
After a few minutes Lucy reached up and felt the strands that had already been combed. “It feels nice,” she said.
“Wait until I put it in a French braid. You’re going to look really pretty. I have a mirror with me, so you can see.”
Lucy turned slightly to glance at her, then faced front again. “I wasn’t stealing yesterday,” she blurted out, speaking quickly. “I really was looking for a Band-Aid.”
C.J. swallowed. “I know,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I know. I’m sorry I accused you of stealing. It was very wrong of me, and I hope you’ll accept my apology and forgive me.”
Lucy sprang to her feet and spun to face her. She looked confused and more than a little stunned. “You’re apologizing to me?”
“Yes. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it. C.J. wondered if any adult in the girl’s life had ever taken responsibility for making a mistake.
“It’s okay,” Lucy told her and sat back down.
“Thank you for accepting my apology.”
Still sounding startled, Lucy said, “You’re welcome.”
C.J. continued to work on her hair. Being wrong about yesterday was one thing, she told herself, but what about the picnic? Had she been wrong there, too?
“You must have been very frustrated,” C.J. said, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake in pursuing this line of conversation. “When someone is honest and gets accused of stealing, it’s easy for them to get mad.”
Lucy stiffened slightly. C.J. kept combing, but then the girl pulled away. She dropped her chin to her chest.
“We steal sometimes,” she whispered. “Tommy takes the money while I do something to get everybody’s attention. He hates doing it, but I make him.” Lucy tilted her head and looked at C.J. “We don’t buy candy with the money, or toys. I’m real careful with it.”
She made the statement as if wanting to know that made it better.
“So why do you take it?” C.J. asked, not sure why she didn’t feel vindicated to have her suspicions confirmed.
“Sometimes we buy food. When Mrs. Fortier gets mad at us, she sends us to bed without supper. That happens a lot and we get real hungry. We try to be quiet, but sometimes we forget, and then she locks us in our room.” Lucy sighed. “We’re saving the rest for when we’re ready to run away and be on our own. Some of it’s gonna have to go for a new coat for Tommy. Mrs. Fortier says his old one is just fine, but it’s too small. He can barely fit into it, and when it snows and stuff, he needs to be warm.”
Anger flooded C.J., but this time it wasn’t directed at the child. Instead, she felt a burning need to find the horrible woman who treated these children so badly and lock her in a room without food for a couple of weeks. Then she should spend a good long time in prison.
“I’m glad you and Tommy take care of each other,” she said, careful to keep her feelings to herself. If Lucy saw any strong emotion, she would assume C.J. was mad at her. Based on recent events, who could blame the girl?
She slid forward until she could reach
the girl’s hair and continued combing it. They talked about the horses and how good Cookie’s desserts were until C.J. finished with the braid and handed over her mirror.
Lucy stared at herself. Her mouth curved into a delighted smile.
“I have to go show Tommy,” she crowed, handed C.J. the mirror, then raced toward the cook wagon. Halfway across the clearing, she turned back.
“Thank you, C.J.”
“You’re welcome. After dinner, I’ll take it out so it’s not too lumpy to sleep on, but if you’d like me to put it back in the morning, I will.”
Lucy beamed. “I’d like that a lot.”
C.J. watched her go, then packed away her mirror and comb. In her world, the act was a small thing, but what was it in Lucy’s world?
Thad stepped into the clearing. He carried a mug of coffee in each hand. “I saw your handiwork,” he said, handing her the cup. “Lucy’s hair looks nice.”
C.J. shrugged, not wanting to talk about why she’d done it or what it all meant. If this had been her first baby step back into the world of the humane, she didn’t want to look at it too closely for fear of messing up.
“Lucy told me a few things about her foster-care situation,” she said and recounted the girl’s stories of lack of clothing and being sent to bed without food. “When we get back, I want to report that woman. She shouldn’t be allowed to take in children. Not if she isn’t interested in caring for them.”
She braced herself for Thad’s response. No doubt he would want them to take in the children themselves. While she and her husband had been approved to have foster children, for C.J. it had simply been one more step on the road to getting a baby. She had no intention of taking in older children.
“Good idea,” he said instead. “We have our contact in social services. I also know a few lawyers who work in the department. I’ll have a word with them, as well. Lucy and Tommy should be with someone who wants them.”
C.J. waited, but he only smiled at her and sipped his coffee. That was it? She’d been prepared to fight him on the issue. What had happened? And why did she feel oddly let down?
Kiss Me (Fool's Gold series) Page 18
