Sanctuary

by Brenda Novak

  “How did Gina talk you into wearing something besides your dress?”

  “She was so nice to me I didn’t want to be rude.”

  “That’s it?” The gravity in Hope’s voice evoked a sheepish smile.

  “Okay. There’s a very handsome guy who lives next door to Gina. I only saw him from a distance. He was out washing his car. But in case we pass on the street sometime, I don’t want him to think I’m homely.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Hope’s mouth. One attractive man could do in a day what it would’ve taken Hope months to accomplish. “So, are you going to have Gina introduce you?”

  “Maybe after the baby’s born.”

  “He’s single?”

  “Of course! I wouldn’t try to impress a married man.” She set her sack on the table. “Gina said he grew up here but left for several years while he went to college. He just returned and is planning on opening a veterinary clinic.” She clasped her hands in obvious excitement. “Isn’t that great? I love animals.”

  Hope laughed at her sister’s exuberance. She’d been right to take Faith away from Superior. At times she feared her sister would rather have the security and family she’d known than the freedom Hope offered. But already Faith was starting to embrace the joys of being a liberated woman.

  “Sounds like a good match to me.”

  “You should see him, Hope. He has dark-blond hair and a fabulous smile. And his body—” She blushed more furiously now, but the gleam in her eye remained.

  “His body?” Hope repeated.

  “He took off his shirt because his dogs kept shaking water all over him, and—omigosh! I’ve never seen anything like his chest and arms. There were muscles everywhere. And his skin was golden-brown from the sun. He must jog outside with his dogs or something. He looks very athletic.”

  “And you were going to settle for Arvin.”

  Faith blanched. “I could never let Arvin touch me now. Leaving him and coming here, meeting Gina and Lydia and the others at the clinic and seeing this man has changed everything. He made me feel so warm inside.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I could actually picture myself wanting to take off my clothes for him. Isn’t that terrible?”

  “No,” Hope said, “that’s good. It means your experience with Arvin hasn’t made you frigid. Just be careful not to get carried away now that you see the possibilities, okay? You don’t want to get involved with the wrong guy. There’re good and bad men in Superior, Faith, and there’re good and bad men here. You have to be selective.”

  “Quit being such a worrier.” Faith started laying out the clothing she’d brought in the bag. “I watched him from inside the house, for Pete’s sake. He doesn’t even know I’m alive, and even if he did, I’m sure he wouldn’t be interested in a pregnant woman.”

  “You won’t be pregnant much longer.”

  “I’ll still have a new baby, which is probably more than enough to chase an exceptionally handsome guy like this away. I’m sure I won’t be getting involved with anyone for a long while. But it’s just so wonderful to realize that I have a whole new future available to me, that the star you told me about might someday be within my reach.”

  Hope chuckled as she admired the clothes. “I should’ve known you’d put it all in perspective. You might be eighteen, but you’re going on thirty-eight, right?” Folding her arms, she relaxed against the table. “It’s just that I want so much for you, Faith.”

  Faith flung the last pair of jeans over a chair and squeezed Hope’s arm. “I know that,” she said, growing serious. “And it’s only possible because of you. I can’t believe you came back for me, Hope. You’re so brave.” She smiled brightly. “And I can’t thank you enough.”

  Shoving away from the table, Hope embraced her. The bulge of Faith’s belly promised new life, a better future. Things would be different for this baby—she’d have the whole world at her feet—and Hope and Faith would be there to watch her excel.

  Faith was right. The star they were both wishing on wasn’t so far away.

  “I love you,” Hope said.

  “Thank God.” Faith clung to her even tighter. “Don’t ever let go, okay, Hope?”

  “I won’t. I’ll always be here for you.”

  “And I’ll be here for you.” Her sister pulled back and grinned as she wiped a tear from her face. “That’s what sisters are for.”

  Hope wiped her own eyes. “That’s what sisters are for.”

  * * *

  WHEN HOPE ARRIVED at the clinic, the lobby was filled almost to overflowing.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Trish, who was looking anxious behind the reception counter. “Why are we so busy today?”

  “Katherine and Heidi are both out, doing home deliveries. Lydia and Gina are trying to pick up the slack,” she said, practically wringing her hands, “but they’re falling behind.”

  Hope studied the day’s calendar. “Do you want me to see if I can reschedule some of these appointments?”

  Trish looked uncertain. “I’ve been waiting for Lydia to give me the word, but ever since Devon arrived, she—”

  “Devon’s here? From Albuquerque?” Hope interrupted. Today was a good day. She’d really missed Lydia’s tall, blond granddaughter. Hope had been so uncertain of everything ten years ago that she hadn’t allowed herself to trust very many people, but Devon had quickly become the closest thing she had to a friend.

  “She arrived at lunch, and she and Lydia haven’t been out of her office since,” Trish said. “I just knocked to tell them how backlogged we are. I’m sure they’ll be coming shortly. Lydia hates making any of our mothers wait.”

  Probably not as much as Trish hated making them wait, Hope thought, noticing that she glanced at the clock every few seconds.

  “I’m sure you’re right. Lydia wants the center to be different from the average doctor’s office, right?” she said, and started on the filing that was waiting for her on some stacking trays.

  When another fifteen minutes passed and Lydia and Devon still hadn’t emerged, Hope thought she might have to insist on rescheduling the mothers who kept arriving. Everyone was getting restless.

  “I think it would be better to…” Trish began, but voices coming from the hall told Hope that Lydia and Devon were finally on their way.

  “And you can forget it that easily?” Devon was saying.

  “Nothing about it’s been easy,” Lydia replied. “You, of all people, should know that. Sometimes a person has to make a decision based on what’s best for more than one individual, Devon. That’s what I did, and that’s what I’m doing now.”

  “I don’t see how this…”

  Devon’s words fell off the moment she saw Hope. “Hope!” she exclaimed, hurrying over to hug her. “How wonderful to see you again! Lydia told me you were back, and I’ve been thrilled to think I might run into you while I’m here.”

  “How are you?” Hope asked.

  “Good, since I got out of school. Those were long years, but I’m a certified nurse-midwife in Albuquerque now, and I like it.” Hope detected a defiant tilt to Devon’s chin as she looked at her grandmother, but if it bothered Lydia that Devon had pursued a master’s degree in nursing science, instead of apprenticing with her, her stoic demeanor gave nothing away.

  “So you’re accredited?” Hope said. “That’s wonderful.”

  “If unnecessary,” Lydia grumbled, and circumvented them without waiting for a response.

  Devon ignored her. “Lydia says you’re in the same field.”

  “I became an obstetrics nurse. I’ve always been drawn to babies.”

  “After what you went through, it’s no wonder.”

  Lydia brushed past them again, escorting a woman to one of the examination rooms.

  “What made you decide to leave here?” Hope asked. “I always thought you wanted to stay and—”

  “Listen, I promised Lydia I’d help with the backlog here,” Devon said, but Hope got the impression that
it was the subject matter as much as the number of people waiting that made her cut the conversation short. “Any chance we can get together after work for coffee? It would be great to have a chance to catch up.”

  Hope thought of Faith, home working on her baby quilt and happily admiring her new clothes in the mirror. “Sure. I just need to check with my sister. If she’s fine, I can go.”

  “Good, because I have to drive back to Albuquerque tomorrow.”

  “That soon? What brought you to town for such a quick trip?”

  Devon’s eyes cut toward the hall, where Lydia had gone. “My grandmother has some crazy notion that it’s time to step down from the board of directors.”

  “But she loves the center, and working on the board gives her a lot of say in what happens here,” Hope said, astonished that Lydia would even think of giving up her seat.

  “I know, but she insists it’s time for her to refocus on what really matters—the mothers. I think she wants to do more hands-on deliveries.”

  “Who would take her place?”

  “That’s just it,” Devon said. “She wants me to.”

  * * *

  “SO HOW LONG have you been having these dreams?” Devin asked, pushing her empty coffee cup away.

  “Since my return to Enchantment.” Hope finished her mocha frappaccino and leaned back in the barstool-style chair. She was sitting across a small high table from Devon, in one corner of a trendy downtown coffee shop. Over the past forty-five minutes, they’d covered myriad topics. What had happened during the past ten years for each of them, the fact that Devon was seeing a doctor she’d met at college and Hope wasn’t seeing anyone, the fact that Devon didn’t want children, at least for another few years and that Hope longed for nothing more. They enjoyed their time together, despite the years they’d been apart.

  But Hope couldn’t leave well enough alone. She’d had to tell Devon about her dreams concerning Autumn, and now she had to face the sympathy in the other woman’s eyes.

  “That breaks my heart,” Devon said.

  Hope tried to shrug it off. “It’s not a big deal. Everyone has bad dreams now and then, right?”

  “Not everyone’s lost a child.”

  “I didn’t lose Autumn. I gave her away. I had to.”

  “I know.”

  “And anyway, the dreams will probably stop once I get used to being back.”

  Devon seemed to be watching her closely. “And if they don’t?”

  “I don’t know. There’s really nothing I can do.”

  “Have you told my grandmother about this?”

  “Lydia? No. Why would I tell her?”

  “I think she should know what you’re going through.”

  “Why?”

  Devon reshuffled the sugar packets in the middle of the table. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I know your child went to a good home?”

  Hope looked at her carefully. “Of course it would. But you don’t know that, do you? Not for sure.”

  Her friend hesitated for several seconds. “Yes, I do,” she said at last.

  “But how?”

  Devon closed her eyes. “I was there that night.”

  “What night?”

  “The night you gave birth.”

  “But—”

  Devon held up a hand. “When Lydia didn’t come home, I wondered if maybe you’d gone into labor. I was worried about you both and drove over to the center. But because I was afraid to go around to the back lot—it’s so much darker there with all those trees—I came through the front and ran into my grandmother. You’d just had the baby.”

  “Why didn’t you come and see me?” Hope asked, remembering how bereft she’d felt at that moment. Having to say goodbye to the baby who’d been a part of her for nine months, without ever really seeing her, had been the most painful thing she’d ever done. She would have welcomed a friendly face in that hour. Lydia had left her alone for so long….

  “Don’t ask,” Devon said. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Devon—”

  The look on Devon’s face made Hope pause. Her friend was obviously torn, but she seemed hurt in some way, too. “I’m sorry, Hope. I’ve already said more than I should have,” she muttered, and hurried out the door.

  * * *

  LYDIA’S CAR was the only one in the small gravel lot at the back of the birthing center when Hope pulled the Impala around. Typically used for employees or mothers already in labor, the rear entrance led directly to the birthing rooms. The door was still unlocked, but that whole section of the center was dark. Lydia wasn’t delivering babies; she was working late in her office.

  Hope quietly made her way forward to the hall that branched off the waiting room, with the offices on one side and the small exam rooms on the other. Devon’s cryptic words had set Hope’s teeth on edge. All evening, while she’d helped Faith cut and sew, she’d been worrying about Devon’s odd behavior in the coffee shop. But it wasn’t until Faith had gone to bed that she’d decided to see if she could speak to Lydia about it—tonight. If anyone could tell her what was going on, Lydia could. As a pregnant runaway, Hope had believed Lydia knew everything and, to a certain extent, she still believed it.

  But she was almost afraid to find out what the problem was. Something wasn’t right. She could sense it. Especially around Devon. But she’d noticed it at other times, too, ever since she’d been back.

  Staring at the light glowing beneath Lydia’s closed door, Hope took a deep breath, raised her hand and knocked.

  “Come in,” Lydia said, obviously surprised to have a visitor.

  Hope stepped into the office, feeling as though she’d just breached some holy inner sanctum.

  “Hope!” Lydia rounded the desk and came toward her. “What brings you back here, and so late?” Her eyes darted to the clock, and Hope realized it was after eleven.

  “I wanted a few minutes alone to talk,” Hope said.

  “About what?”

  “I had coffee with Devon earlier.”

  Lydia’s mouth tightened. “That’s nice. She’s always cared a great deal about you. As I have.”

  “You’ve both been very good to me, but—” Hope’s palms grew moist “—Devon was acting a little strange.”

  If possible, Lydia seemed to hold herself more rigidly than before. “How so?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. Secretive, I guess. She told me she knew my baby went to a good home.”

  “He did. I told you that myself,” Lydia replied, but her normally pointed, steady gaze faltered, and she glanced back at the clock.

  “He?” Hope repeated. “I had a girl, remember?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I’ve delivered a lot of babies over the past ten years.”

  “Of course.” Suddenly Hope didn’t know what to ask. Lydia hadn’t coerced her into giving up her baby. Hope had done it voluntarily. And the baby had gone to a good home. Both Lydia and Devon, people she trusted, confirmed that. So why was the hair still standing up on the back of Hope’s neck? “Is everything okay, Lydia?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is there something else I should know?”

  Lydia blinked several times, but her answer, when it finally came, was direct enough. “No.”

  Hope shook her head. “I think the stress of moving and dealing with Arvin again must be getting to me. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  Lydia walked to the door and held it open for her. “Seeing you is never any bother, but you’re worrying about nothing, Hope. Everything’s fine.”

  “Thanks,” she said, but hesitated at the door. “Did you know that Devon came here the night I had Autumn? She was planning to visit me….”

  “Autumn? You named her?” Lydia raised a disapproving brow. “That’s always a mistake, Hope. You need to let her go, as I told you ten years ago.”

  “I understand. Did you know, about Devon, I mean?”

  “Yes. I spoke to her that night.”

  “Bu
t she never came to see me.”

  “It was too late. I sent her home.”

  “Right. I should’ve thought of that. Good night.”

  “Good night,” Lydia replied.

  Hope started down the hall, but as soon as she heard Lydia’s door close, she veered off to the receptionist’s desk and retrieved the key she and Trish had once used to get inside the storage area upstairs. There was a small chance she could find her file buried in those old metal cabinets and possibly learn something about Autumn. She’d signed a contract the night Autumn was born, stating that she wouldn’t try to contact her daughter until Autumn was of age, and she would have honored it despite her nightmares. But she couldn’t forget Devon’s words, I’ve already told you more than I should have.

  What was there to hide?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  HOPE COULD HEAR Lydia speaking to someone on the phone, her voice a low murmur, as she slipped past the office and crept up the stairs. She had no idea whether or not there’d be anything in her file about Autumn, beyond basic birth statistics, but she had no better place to start looking. She’d gone ten long years without knowing anything about her child. Ten years too long.

  Suddenly the piece of paper she’d signed didn’t seem important at all. The only thing that seemed important was making sure Autumn was safe and well.

  The stairs creaked as she moved, sounding abnormally loud in the otherwise quiet building, but Hope remembered that Lydia was on the phone and forced herself to continue. She respected Lydia and owed her a great deal. She didn’t want to wind up in an ugly confrontation about privacy laws and ethics violations that could cost her her job—and their friendship. But she had to do this. She cared more about Autumn than anything else.

  Fortunately, light filtered through the windows of the spare offices off the second-story landing, and Hope could see well enough to open the wooden door to the storage area.

  A much deeper darkness than that in the hall, along with a musty odor, immediately enveloped her as she stepped inside. She paused, pressing her back against the wall as she tried to gain her bearings.

  From her earlier visit, Hope knew the basic layout. The storage area consisted of three small rooms and a bit of attic space that had also been converted to storage. But she had no idea which files were stored where, and the darkness made the place feel completely foreign. There were a couple of small windows, but none very close and only a little moonlight showed through.