by Brenda Novak
“Have you felt the baby move?” Hope asked, changing the subject while she kicked off her shoes.
Faith dropped her scissors on the table and stretched. “More than I’d like. This baby is so strong it feels like she’s going to break one of my ribs almost every time she kicks. You can even see her little foot if you watch closely.”
Hope glanced at her sister over the back of the couch. “Her?”
“I think it’s a girl.”
“Will you be disappointed if it’s not?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you want to learn the baby’s sex during your ultrasound appointment?”
Faith walked over to check on whatever she had cooking in the oven—the meat loaf, Hope supposed. “Can they really tell that easily?”
“Sometimes, depending on the baby’s position. It’s basically a picture of what’s inside your womb.”
“I’d rather be surprised,” she said, her voice muffled now that she was turned away.
Hope remembered when she’d first heard she was having a girl. It had been a painful revelation, one that had made the decision to put the baby up for adoption that much more critical. At the time, she’d been so desperate, so terrified she’d wind up back in Superior or on the streets. She wasn’t about to risk having her daughter raised the same way she’d been raised, wasn’t about to give the Brethren control of yet another female life.
“Are you going to tell me what was so terrible about your day?” Faith asked.
“It wasn’t terrible, exactly. I’m still learning my way around the center.”
“What did you do today?”
“I helped the accountant, Kim Sherman, search through a bunch of files to prove the center had paid a certain vendor who claimed they hadn’t received a check. And I helped Trish move a few things into the storage area upstairs.”
“What about Parker Reynolds? How did he treat you?”
“Like I have the plague,” Hope grumbled.
“You’re kidding. Why?”
“Maybe I’ll find out. We’re going to be driving to Taos together sometime this week.”
“For what?”
Hope explained, then asked, “You’ll be okay while I’m gone?”
“Of course. I can always contact Gina if there’s a problem. She called to check on me today, as a matter of fact.”
“Already? That’s a pleasant surprise.”
When she realized Faith was taking dinner out of the oven, Hope got up to help. “Maybe I’ll have her swing by the day I’m in Taos.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Not much longer than the usual workday, I imagine.”
Faith rolled her eyes as she set the meat loaf on the stove. “Then she doesn’t have to come by. I’ll be fine.” She delved back into the oven for two large baked potatoes. “Oh, I almost forgot. We did get a call today,” she said. “Mr. Deets called.”
“My old landlord? How did he get this number?”
“From the leasing company, I guess.”
“What did he want?”
“To see where he should send your security deposit.”
Hope felt her blood run cold. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Faith moved past her with the potatoes. “Of course not. I told him to send the money to the leasing company, and we’d pick it up there.”
The leasing company wasn’t far away. If Arvin learned even that address, it could still bring him to Enchantment….
“Hope?” Faith said. “Did I do okay? I had to give him something. Twelve hundred dollars is a lot of money. I thought you might need it.”
“You did fine,” Hope said, but she was imagining the worst. “Was he okay with your answer?”
“Sort of. He thought it was weird that I wouldn’t give him our exact address. He said there’d been a lot of people asking about you and wondered if everything was okay.”
Hope closed the oven door. “Did he mention who?”
“A guy named Jeff, for one.”
Poor Jeff. She’d have to call him and let him know she wouldn’t be coming back. “Is that all?”
Faith began to gather her patterns, fabric and scissors from the table. “No, there was some other guy, but he wouldn’t leave his name.”
“Did he say what he wanted?” Hope opened the silverware drawer to get them each a knife and fork.
“He just asked where you’d gone. Said your cat was getting into his trash again and he wanted to return him to you.”
Hope’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”
“I guess Oscar’s been getting into the trash.”
“That’s what I thought you said. What did you tell Mr. Deets?”
“If whoever it was calls again to let him know Oscar belongs to Mr. Paris next door.”
Faith headed into the living room with her sewing things, complaining about the fact that they should have brought Oscar with them, after all, but Hope didn’t respond. Her mind was too busy sifting frantically through all the possibilities. Maybe someone had found a cat who looked like Oscar, thought it was hers and knew her well enough to track down Mr. Deets. But if that was true, why would he say her cat had been in his garbage again? No one had ever contacted Hope about a cat before. All the neighbors knew Oscar belonged to Mr. Paris.
And why didn’t the caller leave his name?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PARKER STARED at the telephone and then at the slip of paper on which he’d scrawled Hope’s number before leaving work. It was now almost a week after the staff meeting. He’d been planning to call her all evening but hadn’t wanted to talk to her while Dalton was awake. He knew it would make him feel even guiltier for what he’d done—what he was still doing—to speak to Dalton’s mother and risk his son asking, “Who is it, Dad?” Parker knew he could never let on that she was anything special to either of them.
Propping the phone against his shoulder, he began to dial. Before he could finish, however, he hung up and slumped back against the sofa cushion. He didn’t want to talk to Hope, even though Dalton was now in bed. Seeing her, speaking to her, even remembering her raised questions he’d rather not answer. What if Hope became interested in knowing Dalton? What if Dalton became interested in knowing Hope? She seemed like a nice person, as though she’d held up pretty well, considering everything that had happened in her life. Was he wrong to keep them apart?
How could he be wrong when anything other than what he was doing put his son at risk? He didn’t want Dalton mixed up in Hope’s past. She had Faith with her and was once again on the run, which told him she still had contact with Superior and the strange people who lived there. Why would he want to introduce his son to all that?
He dialed her again and, this time, waited for the phone to ring. Hope was just another employee at the center, he told himself. He had to believe that and act accordingly. “Hello?”
“Hope?”
“Yes?”
“This is Parker Reynolds.”
“Oh.”
His name met with scant enthusiasm, but after the way he’d behaved since she’d come to town, that didn’t surprise him. “I’m not bothering you too late, am I?”
“No.”
“I’m calling about our trip to Taos.”
“Let me guess. You want to cancel.”
Her bluntness took him off guard. He couldn’t cancel. He needed her help too badly. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted. “What makes you so sure?”
“You need to ask?” she said with a short laugh. “Even after we agreed to be friends, you haven’t said two words to me.”
Parker stared at the television he’d muted a few minutes earlier. “I’ve been busy.”
“Right.”
Somehow he was going to have to become a better actor. “It’s nothing personal,” he said.
He heard her sigh. “Would you mind telling me what’s changed? We used to get along fine. I always believed you cared about me.”
He had cared about her. He still did. That was part of the problem. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Have I grown horns on my forehead or something?”
“No. It’s not you, okay?” He swallowed hard. “I’m having to make a few adjustments in my personal life. That’s all.”
“Somehow you’re managing to like everyone else while you’re making those adjustments.”
“You’re new. Maybe I’m shy.”
“I don’t believe that, but I can’t force you to like me, so I guess that excuse is as good as any. I just need to know where it leaves us with the SIDS project.”
“It leaves us going to Taos tomorrow morning, if you can make it.”
“That doesn’t give me much notice,” she said.
Because he’d put off calling her until the last possible moment. “I know, but I wasn’t able to confirm all the appointments until this afternoon. If you can’t get away, I’ll have to take someone else.” He held his breath, hoping for the best.
“I can probably make it. I just need to see if Faith can spend her day volunteering at the center or check if Gina can come by,” she said. “I’d rather not leave her alone.”
“Are you afraid she might go into labor?”
“No. The ultrasound indicated she has another two weeks, and I don’t think she’ll be early. She’s not showing any of the usual signs.”
He was about to ask her what she was worried about then, but Dalton came stumbling into the living room, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Dad?”
Parker put a hand over the phone. “What is it, bud?”
“I just remembered that my manatee report is due tomorrow.”
“Your what?”
“My manatee report. You know, those big mammals.”
Parker frowned, glancing at the clock. “It’s after ten, Dalton.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I forgot.”
“Is that your son?” Hope asked on the phone.
Parker couldn’t answer her. He wanted to say, “Yes,” as casually as any other father might claim his child, but the word stuck in his throat. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll pick you up at your place at eight, unless I hear otherwise,” he said, and ended the call.
* * *
HOPE DREAMED about Autumn again. This time they were in a grocery store, and Autumn kept peeking at her from one aisle after another. Hope raced frantically around the store, trying to locate her daughter, to make sure she was safe, but she never reached her. She only caught glimpses of a raggedy dress, a dirty tennis shoe or an impish grin.
When Parker arrived at eight, she felt as if she hadn’t slept a wink. Her eyes were gritty, and she had a headache.
“You ready to go?” he asked. His gaze traveled over her white cardigan and the sleeveless dress she wore beneath, and for some strange reason Hope suddenly felt a little tingle go through her.
“Do you mind if we drop Faith at The Birth Place?” she asked. “She doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
“No problem.” He stood by the door and waited while she ducked inside, scooped her purse off the counter and called her sister.
Faith waddled out of her bedroom, pulling on a brown knitted shawl that was as hideous as her pioneer dress. “I’m all set.”
Hope frowned at her. “You’re not really going to wear that old thing, are you?”
“My shawl? What’s wrong with it?” Her chin jutted out. “It’s chilly in the mornings.”
They’d argued about the shawl ever since Faith had draped it over her arm at the secondhand store they’d visited in town last weekend. Hope wanted her to modernize, but in Faith’s mind, modern clothing was still a sin. The shawl had been her way of rebelling.
At least she’d gone along with the haircut.
“Never mind,” Hope muttered, because she didn’t want Parker to overhear.
She waited until Faith went outside, then locked the cabin up tight. They hadn’t heard from Mr. Deets for more than a week, but Hope believed his mysterious caller had been Arvin. Who else would have mentioned a cat? Fortunately for them, Deets hadn’t given them away, mostly because he couldn’t. Arvin had called before the leasing company had contacted her old landlord for a reference, so Mr. Deets didn’t know where they were at the time.
Had her uncle waited another day or two, Mr. Deets might have been more accommodating.
Shuddering at the thought, Hope dropped her keys in her purse and hurried down the steps to Parker’s white Dodge Ram pickup.
Faith was standing near the open passenger door, and Parker was waiting next to her. “You first,” Faith said. “I’ll be getting out soon so I should be on the end.”
Hope eyed the bench seat, knowing she had no chance of avoiding a short ride pressed against Parker’s side.
Sighing, she hauled herself into the truck and slid to the center. Parker helped Faith into the cab before circling to the other side. Then his body warmed Hope as he sandwiched her between them.
A hint of his aftershave momentarily distracted Hope from her reluctance to sit so close to him. He smelled as fresh and homegrown as the forests surrounding Enchantment.
The doors slammed with a couple of resounding thuds, and Parker put the idling truck in gear.
“We shouldn’t be back too late tonight,” he said to no one in particular.
“I’m sure we can make quick work of it,” Hope agreed, careful to keep her eyes on the road.
Faith rested her arms on her belly and spoke over an old Fleetwood Mac song playing on the radio. “Take as long as you need. When I called to see if I could help at the center today, Gina said her husband’s on a trucking run and won’t be home tonight. She invited me to have dinner with her and meet her kids. I really miss having kids around,” she added, her voice a bit melancholy.
Hope remembered Sarah, the child who might have called them in St. George, and knew Faith was worried about her. She’d asked her parents to look after the little girl, but there was always the possibility that Arvin was abusing Sarah in a way she would never reveal. And Faith was so used to caring for siblings and cousins, the emptiness of the cabin probably made it feel like a tomb to her. Hope was glad she was going to be around people today.
“You’ll soon have your own baby to take care of,” she said, regretting her negative comments about the shawl. She needed to give Faith more time to adjust. She was doing well, considering.
They pulled up in front of The Birth Place, and Faith climbed out. “Thanks for the ride,” she said. Bending to see around Hope, she smiled at Parker. “Try to have some fun while you’re working, okay? I don’t think Hope has nearly enough fun.”
Hope felt her mouth drop open, but before she could respond, Faith closed the door. She glanced at Parker and found him arching a brow at her.
“She’s wrong. I have fun all the time,” she said, and scooted quickly away.
* * *
PARKER DROVE in silence until they started up the twisting canyon road that would eventually take them over the mountains and into the next valley. By then, his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had to ask, “What do you think you’ll do after Faith has her baby? Will you stay in Enchantment or move on?”
“I’ve given Lydia a year’s commitment. After that, I don’t know,” Hope replied, staring out the window, as she’d done since they’d dropped off her sister.
A year’s commitment? Somehow Lydia had neglected to mention that. “Lydia told me you’re still dealing with the past. Is there any chance it might catch up with you here?”
“I guess there’s always a chance,” she said.
“Lydia also told me you went back to Superior for the first time just a few weeks ago.” He hoped he sounded as if he was just making casual conversation.
“That’s true.”
“How did you hold out so long?”
“Hold out?” she repeated. “It was harder to go back than to stay awa
y.”
Parker threw her a glance. “Why? Were you afraid you’d see Bonner again?”
Hope gaped at him and he instantly regretted bringing up Bonner’s name. But ever since her return, he’d been dying to ask what had happened to the boy she’d talked about so much ten years ago. Bonner was, after all, Dalton’s father. Parker tried to convince himself he was only interested in Bonner because Bonner could, at some point, have an impact on Dalton’s life.
But Parker knew that wasn’t the only reason. He was also curious to learn whether or not Hope was still carrying a torch for the father of her child. There had to be some reason she hadn’t married and settled down. She was certainly attractive enough to have found a mate by now, regardless of her strange background.
“How do you remember Bonner’s name?” she demanded.
Parker scowled and focused his attention on the road. “You were madly in love with him,” he said. “You talked about him all the time.”
“That was ten years ago! You couldn’t even remember my name when you first saw me.”
“Having you around again has jogged my memory.”
The confusion on her face didn’t clear, but he offered no further explanation.
“I don’t understand you,” she said, shaking her head.
He couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t been himself since her return. His concern for Dalton and his regret about what had happened were so inextricably mixed up with the tenderness he still felt toward her that he couldn’t treat her consistently to save his life. Especially because that tenderness was somehow changing. Pity had formed the foundation of what he’d felt for Hope Tanner all those years ago. But pity played a much smaller part now.
“Forget I asked,” he muttered.
He turned up the volume of the radio. He had no business asking Hope about anything, let alone something as personal as her relationship with Bonner. He needed to ignore her as much as possible until she and Faith eventually left and he could get on with his life. He’d already survived her first two weeks at the center. Certainly they would leave, even if it took a year.
