by HELEN HARDT
“I’m glad you stopped me, son.”
“I’m glad I did too.”
“I don’t know if I could have stopped on my own. It became kind of a sickness, but you made me see what I was doing. Your mother and I, though, we could never be close again. Not after everything.”
“I see.” Though I didn’t. I didn’t at all. I could never treat Daphne the way he’d treated my mother. No way.
“I hope you never do see. I want better for you. You can be the man I never was. Take care of that girl of yours. Take care of that baby.”
“I plan to.” No truer words.
“Good.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “In that vein, take a look at this.”
I took the document he handed me. A warranty deed. For the house. Signed by my father.
“I’m deeding this house to you.”
My eyebrows nearly shot to space. “Excuse me?”
“A house like this is made for a large family. I want you to fill it with children. Fill it with the laughter it was built for.”
“But you and Mom…”
“We’ll move into the guesthouse, of course. Your mother will want to be near the baby.”
For the first time since I could remember, my father had rendered me speechless.
“It’ll all be yours one day anyway, Brad. You can start your family here. It’s yours now.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you is usually appropriate.”
“Of course. Thank you, Dad. I never imagined…”
“I haven’t been the most loving father or husband. I can’t change that now. But I can challenge you to do better than I did. You can begin by giving your wife-to-be the perfect house to raise your children in.”
I perused the document.
“I loved her once, you know.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
My father gazed at me. “Your mother. I loved her once. She was my world.”
“What happened, then?”
I knew what had happened. She couldn’t have any more children. But I wanted to hear him say it.
As if he were reading my mind, he continued, “You may think it was the accident, but there was more to it than that.”
My mind darted back to his previous words. You look a lot like her. It used to bother me. It doesn’t anymore. I know you’re mine.
“What?”
“I already told you I won’t go there. It’s between your mother and me, Brad.”
“How am I supposed to understand if—”
“I said it’s between your mother and me. I have my reasons.”
I nodded. No use fighting George Steel once he dug in his heels. Perhaps he was right. A relationship between a man and his wife was no one’s business except theirs. In fact, I agreed.
But his comment edged its way into my head once more.
I know you’re mine.
As if he’d once questioned whether he’d actually fathered me. But that would mean…
No. Not my mother. She wouldn’t do such a thing.
“Mazie was a good mother,” my father offered. “But you already know that.”
She’d also been a damned good wife, but he didn’t say that. He was almost blatant in not saying that.
“She’s the best,” I said.
He didn’t reply. Was he waiting for me to tell him he was a good father? He’d be waiting a long time. He was an excellent rancher, an excellent businessman. He’d taught me well in those areas.
But a good father? A good all-around father?
Yeah, he’d just given me this house, but I couldn’t make myself say it. I could say something else, though.
“Thank you, Dad. For everything.”
“No need to thank me.”
“Yeah, there is. I’m not just talking about the house. I’m talking about being nice to Daphne.”
“She’s a lovely girl.”
“She is. And also for… helping me deal with Wendy.”
“I was glad to do that. I never wanted her anywhere near your life.”
“You were right. I should have listened to you.”
“Hell, you were young. You had a hard-on for a pretty girl. We’ve all been there. You had no way of knowing what a bad seed she was. Not then, anyhow.”
“I made some bad choices.”
“You did, but who hasn’t?” He shook his head, chuckling but not smiling. “Like I said, we’ve all been there. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about my own experiences.”
I wrinkled my forehead. I knew so little about my father. Was it possible we had more in common than I thought?
“I’d like that.”
“Not today, though. Go spend some time with Daphne.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “Thanks, Dad.”
I left the office, walked to Daphne’s guest room, and knocked.
“Come in.”
I walked in. Daphne sat on the bed, her eyes forlorn.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I think I disappointed your mother, though. She wanted to plan a wedding for us, and I told her I didn’t want a big wedding.”
“Why not?”
“Brad, you know why. I can’t have any kind of wedding if my mother can’t attend.”
Of course. I’d been obtuse. Lucy Wade had attempted suicide. She had to recover, which could take a long time.
“I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I should have told my mother—”
“No! Brad, no. Please don’t tell your mother what’s going on. She’ll wonder why my mother did it, and then everything about me and my junior year will come out. I just can’t.”
“Honey, my mother has been through some of the same.” Some being the operative word. Every time I thought about what had truly happened to my Daphne, I wanted to pummel someone and throw up at the same time.
“I know, but please. I can’t have your parents looking at me like that. I want them to like me.”
“They do like you. I’ve never seen my father take to anyone the way he took to you.”
“It’s because of the baby.”
“That’s part of it, but he thinks you’re special. He told me.”
“He did?”
“He did. And you know what? He’s right.” I smiled and kissed her gently on the lips.
We lay together on her bed and fell asleep that way, secure in each other’s arms.
Chapter Twenty
Daphne
My mother came home two weeks later.
She seemed okay when I visited, and she told me she wanted me to have a real wedding.
“I don’t want one,” I said.
“Daphne, come on. We can afford to give you a little wedding. Let me get in touch with Mrs. Steel.”
A day later, my mother called. “Mazie has invited you and me to the ranch this weekend to make plans.”
“Mom, how am I supposed to keep up with my studies when I’m nauseated all the time and I’m running around all weekend?”
Yeah, morning sickness had arrived. Only I didn’t have it in the morning. I had it most of the day. Brad kept the townhome—I had already moved in—stocked with saltine crackers, the only food that didn’t make me want to puke.
“Daphne, you’re only going to get married once. Mazie and I want to do this for you.”
So Mom and Mazie were on a first-name basis already after only one phone call. That was good. I guessed, anyway. One great thing about the wedding—it gave my mother a project to focus on. Anything that kept her mind out of dark places was a plus in my book.
As luck would have it, Brad and his father were on a business trip this weekend. It would be just us girls. Mazie was lovely, so everything would work out.
Right?
I kept telling myself that.
“I should come along,” my father said. “I want to meet these people.”
“Mazie says George wo
n’t be there,” my mom said.
“Lucy, shouldn’t we meet our daughter’s in-laws before the wedding?”
“In a perfect world, yes,” Mom said.
Which meant this situation wasn’t perfect.
I knew that, but still, Mom’s words hit me in the belly.
I absently rubbed my abdomen. It’s okay, little dove. Everything’s okay.
“I’m coming.”
“No,” Mom said. “Let me do this, Jonathan. I need to do this. By myself. I want to show you and our daughter that I’m okay.”
Finally, Dad agreed. Mom had used the magic words. She wanted to be strong. He had to let her, just like both of them had to let me be strong.
I believed in my mother. She’d apologized all over the place for her actions, had promised she’d never do it again. In fact, she hadn’t had a drink or a Valium since then. She was seeing a therapist and was determined to remain sober.
She was going to be okay.
“Daphne!” Mazie hugged me tight. Then she turned to my mother. “You must be Lucy. Welcome to Steel Acres!”
I missed Ebony and Brandy. One of the hands was taking care of them for the weekend because of my mother’s allergy to dogs. Mazie had promised the house would be dog-dander-free while we were there.
I looked around. The house seemed empty without Brad.
I was just as glad George wasn’t around, though. He’d been kind to me about the baby, but still, I didn’t want my mother to deal with him just yet.
“I’ve been making some plans,” Mazie went on. “I don’t want to step on your toes, though. You’re the mother of the bride, after all.”
“Whatever Daphne wants is fine with me,” Mom said.
“Of course, Daphne will have the final say in everything.”
“I just want something small,” I said. “Just Mom and Dad, a few friends from school.”
“What about family?” Mazie asked.
“Maybe my half brother, though I barely know him.”
“Yes, Larry,” Mazie said. “Brad mentioned him. They went to high school together. He’s a nice kid.” Then she laughed. “Oh, but he’s not a kid anymore. None of you are.”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Brad has a few other friends from high school he’ll want to include,” Mazie said. “And Sean Murphy and a few others from college. We don’t have any family. George and I are both only children.”
I lifted my eyebrows. Interesting. No wonder George had wanted a big family.
“I’ll do the flowers myself,” Mazie was saying. “I love horticulture. Daphne wants yellow, and I have the perfect blooms.”
“Mom, you have to see her greenhouse. It’s amazing.”
“I’d love to take a look.”
“Then there’s the food. Belinda is a wonderful cook, or we can have a small meal catered. What do you think, Lucy?”
“Whatever Daphne wants,” Mom said again.
“Come out back,” Mazie said. “We have the perfect little alcove for a small wedding.”
My mother followed Mazie, but I stayed inside and joined Belinda in the kitchen.
“Hi, Belinda.”
“Hi, honey. Great to have you back. Are you hungry? I can fix you something.”
“No. I’m feeling kind of icky.”
“Morning sickness?”
“Try all-day sickness.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay. I’m getting used to it. Sort of.”
“Spaghetti tonight,” she said. “One of Miss Mazie’s favorites. Her mother was Italian.”
“Spaghetti’s my favorite too, when I’m not pregnant, at least. Homemade meatballs?”
“You bet. Made with our own beef.”
“Yum.” I rubbed my belly, hoping I’d have a break in nausea to enjoy it. “Hear that, little dove?”
“What, honey?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was…” I laughed. “You’ll think it’s silly. I was talking to the baby.”
“That’s not silly at all.” She smiled.
“I suppose I should join my mom and Mazie outside.”
“All right.”
I walked out the ornate French doors. Mazie had taken my mother across the yard to where a redwood gazebo stood.
I had to admit that it was perfect for a small wedding.
“We’ll set up chairs here,” Mazie was saying. “No more than fifty. There’s plenty of room for tables and a sit-down meal. Open bar of course, and a champagne toast. I know the most wonderful baker in Grand Junction for the cake, too. I’ve already contacted the minister in town, and Brad and Daphne have chosen their attendants.”
“Sounds like you’ve planned it all out,” my mother said.
“I welcome your input, Lucy. If you want to make any changes…”
“Daphne, does it all sound good to you?” Mom asked.
“I think it sounds lovely.”
“Then it sounds lovely to me. Thank you, Mazie, for putting together such a perfect little event.”
“It’s no problem. I’m thrilled to do it. I don’t have a daughter of my own, so I never thought I’d get to do anything like this.”
My mother nodded, smiling. It was her forced smile. Was she feeling left out?
I squeezed her arm.
She gave me a reassuring nod. “I’ll need a breakdown of the cost. Jonathan and I want to pay for everything.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it,” Mazie said. “It was all my idea. We’ll foot the entire bill.”
“Mom…” I hedged.
“Daphne, please. Mazie, she’s our daughter. It’s our job to pay for the wedding. She’s getting married so young, and this is the last thing we’ll be able to do for her while she’s our daughter and not someone’s wife. You understand, don’t you?”
I stood, rigid. Would Mazie understand? And why was Mom pushing this? She and Dad didn’t have the money, and the Steels did. She knew that.
Seconds that seemed like hours passed with no one speaking. Finally, Mazie broke the silence.
“Of course, Lucy. I understand.”
After a rather tense dinner—though I was able to choke down some spaghetti and meatballs for my little dove—I retired to my room. My mom was using a different guest room on the opposite wing of the house.
I lay in bed, not tired yet, which surprised me. During the past week, fatigue had overwhelmed me—part of the first trimester, my gynecologist had said.
Yes, I now had an obstetrician-gynecologist. Brad had found one in Denver for me—tops in his field, of course. He had me on a strict regimen of prenatal vitamins and extra folate. Lots of green vegetables—which truly made me gag—and a calcium supplement.
Thoughts of Brad consumed me. I missed him.
Hmm. His bedroom was right next door. I got up, walked into the next room, and closed the door. I lay down on his bed.
I inhaled. Woodsy, musky Brad. I could smell him as if he were lying next to me. Yeah, the sense of smell got more intense with pregnancy too. But at least this smell didn’t make me want to vomit. The opposite, actually. It made me feel at home. Comfortable. Loved.
Oh, Brad. I wish you were here.
I walked into his bathroom and looked around. Inside the shower were two bottles of Mane ’n Tail. Horse shampoo! I opened the bottle and took a sniff. Not much scent at all. Just lemony fresh.
The smell of Brad’s hair. His silky dark hair. Perfect.
I walked back into the room. It was larger than the one I stayed in and boasted a little alcove with a bay window decorated with two chairs and a small desk. A perfect place to study or read when he wasn’t at school. I switched on the lamp on the small desk. A few textbooks sat on the desk along with some manila folders.
My eyes zeroed in on the one word written on the top folder.
Wendy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brad
My weekend of business with my father was definitely business—just not ranch business.
I sat in his office with my father during a quickly arranged evening meeting.
“I assure you she’ll be gone for a year,” Dr. Pelletier promised.
“I know that, and I appreciate it,” I said, “but you don’t know Wendy.”
“I know enough from talking to the two of you, her parents, and Mr. Murphy.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I rubbed my jawline. “She finds a way out of everything.”
“This is beyond her control.”
“I understand you think it is,” I said. “But she finds ways that others can’t conceive. The woman’s a genius.”
“I’m aware of her IQ tests. That doesn’t mean she can get out of a locked door or past guards. She’s not Harry Houdini.”
Except that she kind of was. How to explain?
“I’ve only seen Wendy completely freak out once, and it was when she had no control over the situation.”
“When was that?” Dr. Pelletier asked.
I looked toward my father. His eyes were questioning as well. Wendy and I hadn’t told our parents about the unplanned pregnancy in high school. She’d gone to the doctor, had the test, gotten the positive result, and we’d been deciding what to do when she miscarried a few days later. I wasn’t excited at the thought of admitting this in front of my father, but I had no choice.
“When she miscarried our baby.”
“Excuse me?” My father wrinkled his forehead.
Hmm. Not the reaction I expected. This was something that should have made George Steel furious.
“Sorry, Dad. It was stupid, and we didn’t use protection. We were horny teenagers. What can I say?”
“This isn’t a joking matter, Brad.”
“I know it’s not. But she miscarried, so there was no reason to tell anyone. It was a blessing at that point.”
Dr. Pelletier cleared his throat. “What do you mean she was out of control?”
“She finds a way out of everything, like I said. She wanted this baby because it was mine. She was—and is—obsessed with me. When she miscarried, she freaked out because she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t control the situation.”
