Lonestar Angel

by Colleen Coble

  The phone rang, and she jumped to grab it. “This is Eden.” Her smile faded and her fingers went white. “Who is this?”

  He leaped up and grabbed the phone. “Who is this?”

  An electronic hissing filled his ear, then the dial tone came on. He replaced the phone onto the hook. “Who was it?”

  Her laugh was nervous. “I’m probably just skittish. It was likely a wrong number. No one answered.”

  But the fear in her eyes told him she didn’t believe that. And he didn’t either.

  In the morning Eden’s vapors of the night before vanished with the scent of fresh coffee. She poured a cup, then eyed the components of her big project. The ingredients were assembled on the counter. She ticked them off her list: asparagus, chicken, curry powder, snow peas, coconut milk, carrots, onions, jasmine rice. This couldn’t be too hard, could it? India and Madeline had begged to help—in fact, all five girls had wanted to help—so Eden compromised by allowing two to help with this trial recipe. The other three would get to help her bake cookies this afternoon.

  She studied the recipe. What could she have the girls do that didn’t involve a knife? “I need the water and rice measured,” she said.

  “Me, me!” India shouted, jumping up and down in her chair at the table.

  “No, me!” Madeline said, shoving India off the chair.

  The little girl hit the black-and-white tile floor but didn’t cry. Madeline ran to Eden and snatched the plastic measuring cup from her hand before Eden could reprimand her.

  Eden frowned at Madeline. “India gets to measure the rice because you pushed her, Madeline.”

  The little blonde’s face puckered. “But I want to help,” she wailed. “She always gets to do things instead of me.”

  “You can measure the water.”

  “That’s just water.” She folded her arms across her chest, and her lip stuck out. “You like India better than me.”

  “That’s not true. I love you both equally. But you can’t shove, honey.” She put a bowl in front of India. “Measure out two cups of rice,” she said. She helped the little girl hold the bag.

  “Your turn, Madeline,” she said, heading toward the faucet.

  “I’m not going to help. She can do it.” Madeline slid off the chair and rushed for the back door. Her tear-filled eyes glared at Eden before she focused on the door and began to yank on the knob.

  Eden paused. Her first real challenge of discipline. What did she do? “Stop right there, Madeline,” she said. She grabbed the little girl’s arm and marched her back to the table. Madeline resisted, but Eden lifted her onto the chair. “Time-out. You sit there for five minutes.” She walked back to the stove and set the timer. “When this timer goes off, you can get down.”

  “You’re mean,” Madeline said, her voice hiccupping in sobs. “I’m going to tell Mr. Clay.”

  “How do you think Mr. Clay will like the way you’re acting?” Eden turned back in time to prevent India from spilling the rest of the rice onto the floor. She was beginning to wish she’d done this job by herself.

  Clay stepped into the kitchen from the front room. “Did I hear my name?”

  Madeline burst into noisy sobs. “She spanked me,” she wailed.

  Clay’s gaze shot to Eden, and she shook her head. He walked to the table. “I don’t think so, Madeline. Did you disobey Miss Eden?”

  The little girl buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “You like India better too.”

  “What’s this all about?” Clay asked.

  “She knocked India off the chair in a dispute over who got to measure the rice. So I gave her a time-out.”

  He pulled out a chair beside Madeline. “You don’t think you deserve a time-out for shoving India?”

  Madeline raised her head. “I wanted to help.” She swiped the back of her hand across her face.

  “Did Miss Eden spank you? This is your chance to tell me the truth, Madeline. What did we learn in devotions the other night about lying?”

  “That lying is as bad as murder,” she whispered, staring at her hands.

  “So what do you want to tell me?”

  Madeline shot Eden a resentful glare. “She wanted to spank me.”

  Eden bit her lip to keep from smiling. Though the situation wasn’t really funny, Madeline was determined not to take any blame. The situation was eye-opening. So this was what parenting was all about. It would have been easier to give in, to let her get by with rudeness and talking back. But it wouldn’t have taught her anything.

  “But Miss Eden didn’t, did she?” Clay’s voice was gentle.

  Madeline looked at the table and not at Clay. “No.”

  “I’m proud of you for telling the truth. But you need to apologize to Miss Eden for lying about her. And you need to tell India you’re sorry you shoved her.”

  “I won’t!” The little girl folded her arms across her chest.

  Eden marveled at how well Clay was handling this. As if he’d dealt with five-year-old girls every day. Where did he get that calm firmness? She wanted to tell him not to press Madeline for an apology, but it wasn’t the right thing to do. No child should talk back the way she’d done. Just because she was pained that the children had to be in foster care didn’t relieve her of the duty to make sure the girls knew right from wrong.

  “Then you’ll have to go to your room and stay there all morning.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “You can have it when you come out. That is, when you’re ready to say you’re sorry.”

  “I’m not ever saying sorry. I’m always the one who has to say sorry, even when it’s not my fault!” Madeline’s sobs grew wilder.

  Eden took a step toward the child, but Clay held up a warning hand and shook his head. She couldn’t help a flare of resentment even though she knew her compassion wasn’t appropriate right now. How did he know when to be firm and when to back down? She could see where couples might have arguments over discipline, because she was ready to interfere. Madeline’s sobs broke her heart. The little girl had been through so much.

  She remembered feeling alone and unloved in foster care herself. And maybe just a bit of those feelings were what had catapulted her into full-blown anger with God when Brianna was taken. She thought she deserved better from him, to make up for the things she’d endured. But God hadn’t given her any special favors. Just as Clay wasn’t giving Madeline a license to disobey.

  Eden gave a shake of her head. “No,” she muttered.

  Clay glanced up, a question in his eyes.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking aloud.” She stepped to the table and knelt by the little girl. “It’s always easier just to get punishment over with, honey. Can’t you tell India you’re sorry? You could have hurt her.”

  Madeline’s lip came out farther. “I’m sorry, India,” she muttered. She glared at Eden. “But I’m not saying sorry to you. I’ll stay in my room forever!”

  “That’s enough, young lady.” Clay scooped her from the chair and carried her kicking and screaming out the back door.

  Watching through the door’s window, Eden saw them vanish inside the bunkhouse. She was so lucky God had forgiven her for her own stubbornness. Everyone had the same sin nature that deserved judgment.

  17

  THE HOUSE WAS QUIET EXCEPT FOR THE HUM OF THE AIR CONDITIONER. CLAY RAN A COMB through his hair, still damp from the shower. Eden had been quiet since they punished Madeline. The little girl had gone to bed without telling Eden she was sorry. Not even the thought of a cupcake for Paige’s birthday had swayed her determination. He wasn’t sure how to handle it next.

  “That coconut chicken was pretty good,” he said.

  “I thought it was a little spicy,” she said.

  “Zeke ate his weight in it. So did I.”

  “Maybe it will be a hit at the international dinner.” She was brushing her hair. Her hand paused before resuming the strokes. “How long before we get the DNA samples back?”
>
  “Complete profiles will take about six weeks, but I had an idea.” He tossed his comb into the drawer and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “There are paternity and maternity DNA companies. In fact, I sent off a request for the kits and asked they be overnighted. I should have them soon. We could get those back in a few days.”

  “Days, not weeks? Would they be accurate?”

  “I think so. They wouldn’t provide a complete DNA strand, but they would tell us if we are the parents to any of the children. We’d have to send in our DNA along with the girls’.”

  Her eyes were bright. “Let’s do it! I can’t stand waiting. I’m growing to love all of them.” She shook her head. “And that kidnapper is out there. Knowing which child is Brianna might help us figure out who did this. And why.”

  He nodded. “I dream about it most nights. About telling our daughter we’re her parents.”

  She began to brush her hair again. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

  He watched the hypnotic ripple of her hair through the brush. “It will take a couple of days to get it and a couple more for them to receive it. We should have the results within the week.”

  “And we’ll know,” she said slowly. “How amazing.”

  “Then what?”

  “We can leave here and pick up our lives again.”

  He lifted a brow. “And leave the Baileys high and dry?”

  Her forehead furrowed. “I didn’t mean that. I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone, especially not the other girls. We should stay at least until they go home.”

  “And we have separate lives, and a daughter to share. That’s going to take some time to figure out.”

  She put down the brush, then stood. “I’m tired. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  What was she thinking? Was there a chance she didn’t want to live apart any more than he did? “No, we didn’t.”

  When he went around to his side of the bed, she was already under the covers with her back to him. He clicked off the light and plunged the room into darkness. But even after he settled into the bed, he knew he’d never be able to sleep without talking to her about what he’d been thinking of.

  “Eden?”

  “What?” Her voice was sleepy but not impatient.

  “I want us to stay married.” There, he’d said it. Propping himself on his elbow, he rolled toward her. “Brianna will need all the stability we can give her.” Coward. Tell her you want her, not just Brianna.

  She still didn’t answer and remained motionless on her side of the bed. He prayed for her to consider his plea, for her heart to be opened to another chance.

  “What if we end up fighting again?” she said softly.

  “We’ve been doing pretty well so far, don’t you think? We never had the time to really get to know each other. Now we do.”

  “We don’t know all the challenges yet. I don’t want to go through . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  What had she started to say? Go through losing him? He wished he could be sure of her feelings. She said nothing for a few minutes.

  “Where did we go wrong, Eden?” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if she was still awake, or if she’d even heard him.

  The sheets rustled, and the line of her silhouette changed as she rolled over to face him. “We weren’t suited.”

  “You think people have to be the same to be suited? What about complementing each other? You like schedules and I teach you to enjoy the moment. I like adventure and you show me the value of family and routine.”

  The silence lengthened. “We fought too much,” she said. “I hated that.”

  “We were practically strangers.” He reached out to touch her cheek. She didn’t flinch. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw you.”

  “At the beach in Kauai,” she murmured. She leaned into his touch.

  “You had on that gold tropical sundress and a killer tan. I thought redheads didn’t tan.” She’d seemed almost an angel, the way the sun lit her hair and skin.

  “It was fake.” There was a smile in her voice.

  “I should have known.”

  “It was well done.” She fell silent, then said, “You called me Angel.”

  “You saved me from a lonely life. Or so I’d hoped.”

  “I thought you were mocking me. I didn’t know you thought—”

  “You know what drew me first? You were sitting and talking to an old man.” She hadn’t seemed impatient at all. He’d stood and watched her chat with the old guy for fifteen minutes before he got up the nerve to talk to her.

  “We were feeding the birds.”

  “You were so sweet to him. Not many people pay attention to the elderly.”

  “I always wanted grandparents.”

  “You had none? What about your foster mom’s parents?”

  “They lived in New York, and I saw them once a year. I was always afraid to touch anything in their home. My foster dad’s parents died in a small plane crash when I was ten. I only met them once.”

  He rubbed his fingers over the silken texture of her cheek. “When you said you’d have dinner with me, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  “You were cocky and full of yourself.”

  They’d packed a lifetime into two weeks. Or so it had seemed. And one night things got out of hand. He’d regretted his lapse of self-control, but when it came to her, he had no sense. It was a truth he’d accepted the minute he saw her again.

  The faint glimmer in the room was her eyes. “What did you think when I called to tell you I was pregnant? You were so—cold. I was afraid to ask.”

  Something about the quiet of the night allowed him to admit it. “I was glad.” Glad. Such a tame word for the rush of joy that had come over him.

  She stiffened. “Glad! How can you say that?”

  “I thought I’d lost you. You weren’t returning my e-mails. Our phone calls seemed stilted.”

  “You didn’t say anything for what seemed an eternity. Then you just said, ‘Well, we’ll get married. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.’”

  He heard the pain in her voice and regretted he’d been the cause. “I wasn’t sure how you felt. I wanted to man up.”

  “Man up,” she repeated. “I’d hoped you’d say you loved me. You came right away but you were all business.”

  How did he tell her he’d been overcome by his good fortune? The words seemed lame now. He should have realized. Why hadn’t he? No wonder she’d been so prickly and aloof. It was the only protection she had.

  “Then you went on assignment two weeks after we were married. What was I to think but that you were only doing your duty?”

  “I had a wife and baby to provide for. I wanted to do right by you both. To be a better father and husband than my dad had been.”

  “But you told me out at the old house that you’re wealthy. So why did you go if you didn’t need the money?”

  “I only inherited it a couple of years ago.”

  “I see.” There was something in her voice. Panic, fear? He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to be afraid.

  “I’m sleepy,” she said abruptly. She rolled over and presented her back to him again.

  Just when he was about ready to tell her he still loved her.

  Eden couldn’t sleep after that discussion. She lay still until Clay’s breathing was deep and even, then rolled onto her back. He might be nostalgic now, but the day they’d set up house together, she’d been sure he blamed her for the pregnancy. There’d been no hiding the fact that he felt trapped.

  Her eyes stung, and she threw her arm across them. Their short marriage hadn’t had a chance. They’d been virtual strangers and hadn’t connected except physically. There’d never been any question about their attraction to each other.

  It has taken all this time to get over him. If I even am.

  She pushed the insistent thought away. Of course she’d gotten over him. The month he left, she’d known it was over. She wanted to tell Clay w
hy she’d left, but that would mean he would know she loved him. Her pride couldn’t stand that.

  And it didn’t change anything. Not really. When they found Brianna, they would help her adjust, then they would split again. He hadn’t uttered a single word of love since reentering her life. They’d been married nine months. And all but a few weeks of that time, he’d been gone. If he’d cared about her, he would have made spending time with her a priority.

  She rolled to her side again, willing herself to sleep. Rest would stop this pounding in her chest, this nameless pain that radiated under her breastbone. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths before they popped open again. Maybe warm milk would help.

  She eased out of bed, then froze when she heard something at the window. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Probably a branch. Then she remembered she was in West Texas. There were few trees here, and none in the yard. The noise came again. Like a long fingernail on a chalkboard. The hair at her neck rippled. All she had to do was step to the window and look out to ease her mind. The cause of the noise had to be something very simple.

  “Eden.”

  The whisper shuddered through her. Clay still slept. The voice came from the side of the house where the window was. For a moment she stood frozen in place. Then she wheeled and leaped back onto the bed.

  She grabbed Clay’s arm. “Clay!”

  He sat up instantly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone is outside the window. He called my name.”

  He threw back the covers. “Go stay with the girls.” He grabbed a flashlight from the top drawer in the chest beside the bed, then jumped up, jerked open the door, and ran into the hall.

  She ran behind him and rushed to the girls’ room. Her gaze went from bed to bed. They were all sleeping. Her knees went weak and she sagged against the door frame before she shut the door and locked it. She glanced around the room and saw a desk chair. After dragging it to the door, she propped its back under the knob.

  She should have called the ranch house. Rick or one of the cowboys would have come running. There was no phone in this room. She went to the window and looked out onto the side of the house where she’d heard the intruder. The storm had passed except for a few stray clouds that shrouded the moon. Puddles glimmered in the few shafts of moonbeam. She didn’t see Clay. That alone was worrisome. No intruder either.