Sanctuary

by Brenda Novak

  Hope couldn’t recall anyone by that name. Presumably she hadn’t been working at the center when Hope had given birth to Autumn. Devon, Lydia’s granddaughter, had been the receptionist then.

  “Can I help you?” Trish said.

  Hope returned the smile. “Is Lydia here?”

  “I’m pretty sure she is. She was in her office a few moments ago.”

  “Would you please tell her Hope Tanner would like to see her?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  They waited as Trish hurried down the hall to the right of the waiting room, her comfortable-looking orthopedic shoes squelching as she walked.

  “Do you think she’ll remember you?” Faith asked in the ensuing silence.

  “I think so.” Hope glanced at the various women sitting in the soft leather couches and accent chairs of the waiting room. Two obviously pregnant women chatted next to three toddlers playing with toys from a box by the television. On the opposite couch perched a woman with a newborn.

  Hope watched the woman gently rub her baby’s head—and hated the envy that snaked through her.

  “Hope?”

  Turning, she saw Lydia at the mouth of the hall, wearing a white blouse, a long skirt with a beaded belt and several pieces of turquoise jewelry. A few more wrinkles lined her lean, angular face, but her high cheekbones were just as flattering as they’d always been, her eyes just as keen. Somehow Hope doubted the clarity of those eyes would ever change. Lydia was willpower incarnate.

  “Hello, Lydia,” she said.

  Lydia closed the distance between them and hugged her, the silver bangle bracelets at her wrist clanging with the motion. But she’d hesitated just long enough to let Hope know she wasn’t entirely pleased to see her.

  Feeling a stab of disappointment similar to the one she’d experienced with Parker Reynolds, she told herself it was because Lydia thought she was making a mistake in returning to the past, even now. But the situation had changed. Hope had a reason to come back, a compelling reason. Surely Lydia would see that, once she understood.

  “What brings you to Enchantment, dear?” she asked before her blue-gray eyes slipped curiously to Faith.

  “This is my sister, Faith. She’s due in a couple of weeks. Well, actually we don’t know exactly when she’s due. We think it’s in a couple of weeks. I was hoping you’d be able to take her on as a client. I can pay the regular fee this time,” she hastened to add.

  “I was never worried about your inability to pay the last time,” Lydia replied, tucking back a long strand of silver hair that had fallen from her ponytail. “Money is valuable to me only in that it keeps the center open and running so I can do what I love most.”

  The sincerity that rang through those words evoked a sense of nostalgia in Hope. She, too, loved helping new babies come into the world. Lydia’s passion for life was what had inspired her to become an obstetrics nurse in the first place. If nothing else, it felt good to return to the source of that ambition.

  “Hello, Faith. I take it you’re from Superior,” Lydia said, the gravity in her voice when she mentioned their town indicating she hadn’t forgotten what it signified.

  Faith nodded.

  “Well, you’re certainly welcome here. I don’t deliver many babies anymore. I’m too busy sitting on the board of directors and overseeing everything else. But I can set you up with one of our other midwives, if that’s okay.”

  Faith looked to Hope, and Hope said, “That’s fine.”

  “Good. Why don’t the two of you come on back so I can put you in a room? I think it would be wise to establish what we’re dealing with before we go any further.”

  They followed Lydia to a room off a corridor that was now, to Hope’s surprise, L-shaped. The center had changed more than she’d originally thought. This section of the building, containing a series of larger rooms and what looked like another office, was obviously a recent add-on.

  “You’ve expanded,” she said. “Things must be going well.”

  “They are. We’ve had our ups and downs over the past ten years, but we’re still afloat and delivering more than sixty babies a year. We now have three full-time midwives and one who works, like I do, as sort of an overflow person when we need her.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Hope felt a certain awkwardness between Lydia and her and wished it would disappear. “I can’t wait to see Devon again. She must be one of your full-time midwives.”

  At the mention of her granddaughter, Lydia’s lips thinned and her face paled. “No, Devon lives in Albuquerque now, where she has her own practice as a certified midwife.”

  Hope came to a stop. “She does? But she always talked about working here with you until you retired and then taking over the—”

  “She changed her mind,” Lydia broke in. Her stiff posture told Hope not to probe further, but Hope had difficulty believing there could be any estrangement between grandmother and granddaughter. Lydia and Devon had always been so close. Devon had spent almost every summer working at the center, usually as receptionist.

  Realizing she’d made some sort of blunder, Hope started walking again and said the first thing that came to mind. “I ran into Parker Reynolds in town yesterday. He told me he’s still working here.”

  “He’s been with us ever since he graduated from college. I knew better than to let him get away back then, and I know better than to let him get away now.” Lydia waved them both toward an upholstered couch that matched the pink and mauve of the wallpaper. “He and Kim Sherman, our accountant, are the most practical people on staff. They keep us on track when it comes to meeting our goals.” She leaned against the golden oak cabinets surrounding a small sink close to the door but still seemed…tense.

  “How’s Parker’s wife?” Hope asked. “I remember she was quite ill.”

  “I’m afraid she died a couple of years after you left.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Hope said, wondering how Parker had dealt with the loss.

  Lydia poked her head into the hall to ask a woman wearing a denim jumper to get her a new-client chart. “Tell me what’s happened in your life,” she said as the woman hurried off. “When you left, you were only seventeen. Now look at you.”

  Hope felt a twinge of pride at what she’d managed to accomplish. “Thanks to you, I’m an obstetrics nurse.”

  Surprise registered on Lydia’s face. “You became a nurse? That’s wonderful. But I certainly can’t take any credit for it.”

  “Of course you can. Without you—”

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Lydia said briskly, raising a hand as if hers was the last word on the subject. “But I always knew you’d land on your feet, Hope. You were so bright, so capable, despite everything you had working against you.”

  “You took me in when I had nowhere else to go, Lydia. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”

  Lydia briefly closed her eyes. “Don’t thank me,” she said, then promptly changed the subject. “So, are you married? Engaged? In love?”

  Hope felt far less proud of her personal life than her professional accomplishments. She might have moved on since Enchantment, in some ways, but in others…“None of the above, I’m afraid.”

  “And you, dear?” Lydia asked Faith.

  Faith opened her mouth, closed it again and shot a helpless look at Hope.

  “She’s not married,” Hope supplied.

  “I see.”

  “I am married. Sort of,” Faith corrected. “I mean, my baby’s not illegitimate or…or anything.”

  Before Lydia could respond, the woman she’d spoken to in the hall a minute earlier returned with a manila file folder. “Here you go, Lydia.”

  “Thank you. Gina, come in for a second. I want to introduce you.” Taking Gina’s arm, Lydia guided her farther into the room. “This is Hope Tanner, an old friend of mine, and her sister Faith. This is Gina Vaughn, our newest midwife.” She indicated Hope with a wave of her hand. “Hope, Gina used t
o be a nurse, as well.”

  “Vaughn,” Hope repeated, the name jogging a memory. “I met a truck driver by that name when I lived here ten years ago. You’re not related to Zach Vaughn, are you?”

  “I’m married to him,” she said, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm in her voice and Hope could hardly picture the two of them together. Not much bigger than a twelve-year-old, Gina had long, straight auburn hair, a few freckles across her nose and a healthy glow to her skin. She looked like the energetic, outdoorsy type, not typical of the women who generally hung around the Lazy H Trailer Park.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Hope said.

  Gina murmured the same sentiment and started to leave, but Lydia detained her. “Actually, Gina, I was hoping you’d take Faith on as one of your clients.”

  Gina’s gaze immediately lowered to Faith’s bulging midsection. “Of course. I’d love to. But…isn’t she already working with someone?”

  “No. She’s new in town and has yet to be seen—by anyone.”

  If Gina was surprised that Faith had had no previous prenatal care, she didn’t let it show. They saw all kinds at the clinic—those without medical insurance, those too stubborn, lazy or indigent to take proper care of themselves, even those who’d initially planned on having the baby completely on their own.

  “When’s the baby due?” Gina asked.

  “That’s what we’re about to find out,” Lydia replied. “We need to see what her cervix feels like. She might have started dilating already. It looks like the baby’s dropped. Hope, would you mind waiting outside?”

  “Of course not.” Hope squeezed her sister’s arm on her way out. “It won’t be any big deal,” she said. “I’ll be in the lobby, okay?”

  She didn’t wait for a response. She trusted Lydia implicitly and wanted to communicate that to Faith. Closing the door behind her, she headed down the hall. She was thinking about Lydia’s rather subdued reception when she rounded the corner and was nearly bowled over by Parker Reynolds.

  “Whoa,” he said, catching her before she could fall. His hands felt strong and sure on her upper arms, but the hard line of his jaw suggested he wasn’t any more pleased to see her now than he’d been the day before. Maybe Enchantment wasn’t going to be the haven she’d anticipated. Maybe it was expecting too much of these people to welcome her a second time.

  Quickly regaining her balance, Hope stepped out of his reach. “Excuse me,” she muttered. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “No problem,” he said, but she could sense that there was a problem of some sort as he checked the hall behind her. “Where’s your sister?”

  “She’s in the exam room with Lydia.”

  “So Lydia knows you’re here?”

  She nodded.

  “How long until the baby’s born?” He sounded as though he couldn’t wait.

  “That’s what they’re trying to determine.”

  “You mentioned it would be soon, though, right? A couple of weeks, maybe?”

  What did it matter to him. “That’s a good guess.” Hope cleared her throat. The hero worship she’d once felt for this man was difficult to forget. Maybe he was acting like a stranger, but he still looked like the Parker Reynolds she remembered so fondly. The Parker Reynolds who’d given her a coat that cold spring. The Parker Reynolds who’d playfully teased her when she’d been lonely and slipped a twenty into her purse on at least two different occasions—at a time when finding twenty bucks was like unearthing a pot of gold.

  Hope wondered if she should say something about his wife. She wanted to, but he seemed so remote.

  “How long are you planning to be in town?” he asked.

  She and Faith had nowhere else to go. There was a chance they’d settle here, if she could get a good job, but she was reluctant to say so. Parker hadn’t minded her as a poor, pregnant runaway, but dealing with her as a full-grown woman seemed to be a different story. “That depends on Faith.”

  “Of course.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  Hope thought of Faith saying how handsome he was. She tried not to agree, but he looked particularly good today in his red sport shirt with the cuffs rolled back and his dark hair falling across his forehead.

  “Well, I’ll see you some—” she started to say, but he asked at the same time, “Where are you staying?”

  “At the Lorey cabin.”

  “Nice place.”

  “We like it there.”

  “You’ve changed. A lot,” he said, surprising Hope with the sudden switch in topic.

  “I’ve grown up.”

  His eyes ranged over her. “Yeah, that’s pretty tough to miss.”

  Hope raised her eyebrows, wondering what exactly he meant by that. “Excuse me?”

  “You married?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Engaged?”

  “No. I’ve never been married or engaged.”

  “So you’ve been on your own all this time?”

  Hope knew lives didn’t get much more “alone” than hers had been. “I guess you could say that.”

  “You just seem so…”

  “What?” she prompted when he hesitated.

  “Different.”

  “From what?”

  “From before,” he said, and walked away.

  “Yeah, well, you’ve changed, too,” she muttered to herself as she watched him disappear into an office. “And it doesn’t look as though it’s for the better.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  A FEW MINUTES later, Parker sat at his desk, staring at the spreadsheet Kim Sherman had provided, even though he wasn’t really seeing it. He needed to focus on the fund-raiser The Birth Place sponsored for SIDS research every summer and okay the proposed budget. With only six weeks to go until the event, time was getting short, and they were running into some significant snags.

  But he couldn’t stop thinking about Hope Tanner. She wasn’t a down-and-out runaway anymore. She was an adult, who seemed surprisingly capable and confident. Only her eyes revealed her difficult past. They reminded him of deep dark pools, glasslike on the surface but churning with a powerful undercurrent. He knew she’d acquired that guarded look by suffering through more than her share of hard luck and difficulty. What bothered him now was wondering whether he’d added to her pain….

  She’d been planning to give up the baby, he told himself. Lydia had started to make the arrangements even before he’d gotten his father-in-law involved.

  But the question of whether Hope would have given up her baby if she’d known it was a boy had always haunted him. Maybe she would’ve felt she could raise a boy without risking the things she most feared for a daughter. Maybe she could actually have done a decent job. Which meant he’d robbed her of Dalton.

  He pictured Dalton as a chubby baby, jamming his finger into his mouth. Then as a toddler running around the house and making one mess after another. Then as a kindergartner learning to read and showing wonder over something as simple as a bee or a butterfly. Those memories were precious to him. Irreplaceable. They were memories Hope didn’t have.

  But despite the clandestine way it had all come to pass, Parker had fallen in love with Dalton the very instant he’d gazed down at him in Lydia’s office. It was Dalton who had softened the loss he’d felt when Vanessa died. It was Dalton who’d filled his life and his heart for the past ten years. He generally tried not to think about Hope. But now she was back, and the guilt he’d suppressed and justified for so long spread through him like a cancer.

  “You going to be through with that anytime soon?” Lydia said from the doorway.

  Parker blinked and looked up. “When’s Faith due?”

  “I’ve scheduled her for an ultrasound with Dr. Ochoa at his office, but from what I can tell she’s about thirty-seven weeks.”

  “Thirty-seven weeks,” he repeated. “That means we only have three or so weeks to go.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We can make it for three
weeks,” he said, to bolster his spirits as much as Lydia’s.

  “Except I’m not sure Hope and Faith will be leaving after the baby’s born,” she said slowly.

  The sick feeling Parker had experienced since bumping into Hope at the Sunflower Drive-in intensified. “What do you mean?”

  “According to Faith, she and Hope are sort of on the run.”

  “From what?”

  “From Faith’s husband—” she arched a brow “—who’s also her fifty-six-year-old uncle.”

  “God, not the polygamy thing again.”

  “Hope and Faith have three other sisters who live in their hometown and twenty or thirty step-siblings.”

  “Do you think Hope and Faith are in any real danger?”

  She folded her arms and leaned against the lintel. “That’s tough to say. They didn’t go into a lot of detail. Faith’s trying to leave her husband, and he’s not very happy about letting her go. That’s it.”

  “Hope told me she’s been living in St. George, not Superior.”

  “She visited Superior for the first time only a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Then that’s good,” he said, feeling a measure of relief. “That means she’s established a life separate from Superior. She might not have a husband or a family to bring her back to St. George, but what about a job? She has to make money somehow.”

  “She was an obstetrics nurse, but she quit her job at Valley View Hospital just before they fled St. George.”

  Lydia’s words effectively doused his relief, but he wasn’t willing to give up easily. “That shouldn’t change anything,” he insisted. “If they’re on the run, they probably won’t stay much longer than we originally thought, whether they return to St. George or move somewhere else.”

  “I have no idea what they’ll do.” She crossed the room to straighten an impressionistic painting of a woman cradling a child. “But if word of what we did gets out, it’ll ruin the clinic,” she said, keeping her eyes on the painting. “It’s exactly what we deserve, of course, you and I. But I hate the fact that other people will suffer with us.” She finally turned back to him. “People like Dalton.”