“She misses her mother, Jake.”
He didn’t want to hear that. “It’s been almost two and a half years. She’s gotten over it.”
“My mother’s been gone eleven years and I still miss her.” She turned and in one fluid motion pressed against the counter and raised herself until she was sitting on the tile. “You miss Ellen. You told me you’ve never loved anyone the way you loved her. Laurel will never get over her loss. I think you know that, deep inside. But hiding away your feelings, pretending it never happened, not letting her talk about her pain isn’t making her better. Don’t you think it’s odd that when she’s with me all she does is compare me to Ellen?”
He shrugged and wished he’d stayed in the barn. He didn’t want to talk about this.
Anne pulled off her headband. Her pale red hair tumbled into her face. She brushed it back impatiently. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. The color had fled her face, except for the freckles dotting her complexion.
“At first I thought she was subconsciously telling me I would never be as good as her ‘real’ mother.” She pulled one knee up close to her chest and hugged it. “God, that hurt. I just wanted to fit in. I didn’t expect to take Ellen’s place, but I thought there might be room in Laurel’s heart for both of us.”
“There is,” he said. “I know Laurel loves you.”
She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’ve finally figured out the problem. It’s not about me at all. She was talking about her mother because I had given her permission to. I told her it was okay. You made her bottle everything up inside. That’s the reason she started in with that bad crowd. I’m convinced of it. She wanted to get your attention. She wanted you to see she was hurting. She wanted you to let her deal with her pain.”
He leaned against the sink. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Good. Then listen.” She jumped off the counter and approached him. She raised one hand and poked him in the chest. “Ellen is dead. Nothing is going to bring her back. Not guilt or silence or hoping it’s all going to work out. Your wife is gone, but you still have a daughter who needs you very much. Don’t abandon her anymore. Deal with it, mourn, do whatever you have to, then get on with your life. Please. For all our s-sakes.” Her voice got more and more shaky until it cracked on the last word.
She backed away suddenly and covered her mouth with her hand. Before he could catch her, she sank to the floor. He was beside her in an instant.
“Talk to her,” she said, clutching his shirtfront. “Please. You’ve got to talk to her about Ellen. Otherwise she will hate me forever.” Tears flowed down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling her close. “It’s all my fault.”
It was. He’d known for a long time that Laurel was trying to make him see her pain. He’d ignored it and her because he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have the words. He was so raw inside, he could barely hold himself together.
Anne was wrong about one thing, though. He wasn’t missing Ellen. At least not Ellen as she’d been in the end. Maybe that was why he’d shut down. Maybe it had been guilt instead of mourning. Maybe some of it had been anger and disgust with himself for holding on to a relationship that had long been over. He should have left years ago. He’d always told himself he stayed because he couldn’t leave Laurel, but maybe it was more than that. Had he stayed because Ellen had stayed? He’d hated the way she would throw his sterility up in his face every time he talked about a separation, but maybe he’d agreed with the logic of her arguments. Maybe he’d secretly believed that he did owe her for staying with someone who was only half a man.
Anne’s tears soaked through his shirt. Shudders racked her body. He murmured soothingly and held her close. Slowly the tears slowed.
“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest. “You don’t even like me.”
“You always say that. But you never say the second half of the sentence.”
She sniffed and looked up. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. He used his thumb to brush away the moisture on her cheeks.
“What second half?” she asked.
“That you don’t like me, either.”
“Oh.” She sniffed again.
One of her hands rested on his shoulder, the other lay on his thigh. She was half leaning against him and her breasts brushed his chest. “Do you like me, Annie?”
“I’d better start to if I’m having your baby.” Her watery smile broke as a sob caught her unaware. “I can’t do this much longer,” she said.
“What?”
“Pretend it’s not eating me up inside. Pretend I don’t care about being compared to Ellen. I hate it.” She rubbed her face with the back of her hand. “I know that makes me a horrible person.”
“I don’t think you’re horrible.”
“Not now.” She sniffed. “You called me Annie again. But soon you’ll shut down and I’ll be alone in this house, with Laurel hating me, and you wishing me gone. I’m falling apart here. Why is all this happening now?”
“I don’t know.” He kissed the top of her head, then moved her bangs off her forehead and kissed her skin. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Like what? What are we going to do? Jake, I’m pregnant.”
She looked weepy and fragile and in need of comforting, but he couldn’t help grinning.
She glared up at him. “Stop it. You always get that look on your face when I mention the baby.”
“What look?” he asked, even though he knew.
“The one that says ‘look what I can do.’ It’s disgusting.” She wiped her cheeks.
“Disgusting?”
“Well, maybe that’s a little strong. But it’s silly. How much does it take to have a baby?”
“More than I thought I had.”
“You’re right.” She straightened some, but didn’t move out of his embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that was hard for you.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m finally going to have a son.”
She reached up and touched his jaw. When he was looking into her blue eyes she said, “Listen to me carefully. You keep saying ‘him’ and ‘my son.’ You don’t know if it’s a boy or not. Unless that doctor who messed up the tests could tell you only had little boy sperm swimming in your sample, there is a chance that this baby is a girl.”
Never taking his gaze from hers, he slowly shook his head. “I know it’s a boy.”
“You are the most stubborn man.”
“I know that, too.” He studied her face, counting the freckles on her nose.
“What are you staring at?”
“Your freckles. They’re finally starting to grow on me.”
She sighed impatiently. “You’re not taking this seriously enough, Jake. Dammit, we have—”
But he never heard what they had to do. Instead he lowered his mouth to hers. She was shocked by the kiss. He knew by the way she stiffened in his arms. He thought she might want to escape his embrace so he loosened his hold on her and prepared himself for the disappointment.
Instead of pulling away, she nestled closer to him and put her arms around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his chest. He remembered their heavy weight in his hands and the way he’d caressed her nipples into hard attention. He groaned low in his throat.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held her as he lowered himself backward toward the floor. When he was stretched out, she lay on top of him, her pelvis pressing against his, her legs between his thighs. She was in control. He wondered what she would do with her power.
She didn’t disappoint him. She cupped his jaw and angled her mouth on his. Soft pressure gave way to heated kisses. Her tongue swept across his lips, once, twice, before he parted for her. She tasted faintly of Italian spices, and he grinned as he pictured her sampling the sauce.
As their tongues touched and stroked each other, he moved his hands lower to cup her rounded derriere. He flexed his
hips so that his hardness pressed against the soft skin he had touched earlier that day. She rotated in response. A sharp flame of desire licked along him. He caught his breath and resisted the impulse to experience his release right there. He hadn’t come that close to embarrassing himself since he was about fourteen.
She held his head and rained frantic kisses on his face.
“Oh, Annie,” he breathed.
He felt something moist on his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw her tears.
“Tell me this is about more than the baby,” she said softly.
“The baby?” He hadn’t even been thinking of their child. “No, it’s about—” He flexed his hips again. “Hell, I don’t know what it’s about. It seems anytime you and I get within two feet of each other, we risk going up in flames.”
She rolled off of him and sat cross-legged on the floor with her back to him. “Jake, this is a cosmic joke or something. Do you like me?” she asked without turning around.
He thought about all she’d done around the house and with Laurel. He thought about the knack she had for driving him crazy. He’d been more angry since he’d known her than he’d ever been in his life. He’d also laughed more, and hungered with a passion he’d never believed possible. She made him feel alive. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that until just this minute.
“Yes, Annie. I like you.”
“I hope it’s enough.” She scrambled to her knees, then turned to face him. The tears were gone, but the sadness in her eyes just about tore his heart in two. “I hope we can work this all out. Laurel and the baby. But it’s going to be hard. I have less than a month left here.”
He didn’t like being reminded about the temporary nature of her visit. He hadn’t minded before. In fact he’d been waiting for her to leave. But everything had changed since he found out she was pregnant.
“You don’t have to go,” he said, then wondered what the hell he was thinking of.
“Heather, my assistant, called me. The promotion is mine. I’ve worked hard for the job. It’s what I want for my life. You have your dreams, Jake, and I have mine. They don’t connect in any way. I don’t deny I want you, but does that mean anything?” She rose to her feet. “I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. Laurel already hates me. What’s going to happen when she finds out about this?” She placed her hand on her stomach. She swallowed. “I wish—” She drew in a deep breath. “No. I can’t wish I’d never met her or you. What I do wish is that someone, anyone, would tell me what on earth I’m supposed to do about all this.”
*
Jake stayed in the kitchen long after Anne had left. He thought about all that she’d said, about her tears, and the way her kisses made him feel. He remembered how he’d hated and distrusted her when they’d first met. He remembered his fears about losing Laurel, and the way he’d resented the changes in his life. In a few short weeks, he’d come so far. Now he trusted Anne. He liked and admired her. And he agreed with her. He wanted someone to tell him what he was supposed to do, as well.
She was leaving. There was nothing he could say to stop her. The thought of her going back to Houston carrying his son was enough to rip his guts out. Yet he had no right to ask her to stay. God, but he wanted to. He wanted to see her growing big with his child. He wanted to hear the infant’s heartbeat and feel him kicking. He rubbed the back of his neck, then slowly rose to his feet. First things first. As Anne had pointed out, the baby wasn’t going to be arriving for eight more months. However, Laurel was here and a part of their lives.
He walked up the stairs and to his daughter’s room. He knocked. Her muffled answer was unintelligible, so he opened the door.
Laurel lay huddled on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, her back to the door. Her long hair spread over shoulders that shook with her sobs. All the women in his house were crying today. How much of that was circumstances and how much of it was his doing? He didn’t want to know.
He sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled Laurel close. She didn’t fight him as he’d feared; instead, she burrowed close, hanging on desperately.
“Oh, Da-addy.” She sobbed against him.
“Hush, baby. It’s going to be fine.” But was it? He didn’t have any answers. He wanted Laurel and Anne to work this out. They had to. There were even bigger problems to face.
As he held and comforted his daughter, he wondered if he were a worse bastard than he’d thought. Would he be willing to smooth things over if Anne weren’t carrying his child? If it weren’t for the promised trauma ahead, would he care that they weren’t getting along? How much of his desire to play peacemaker was purely selfish?
He didn’t have those answers, either. He would like to think that he would have done the right thing no matter what. Anne wasn’t the conniving, selfish bitch he’d thought her to be. Thirteen years ago she’d made a mistake. Now he knew how easily that could happen. He also understood her ambivalence about the adoption. There weren’t any easy choices anymore. She was sweet and loving, doing more than her part to make it all work. He owed her for that, regardless of what else happened between them.
Laurel’s sobbing slowed to an occasional hiccup. He rocked back and forth, smoothing her hair from her face, murmuring her name over and over. He searched for the right words, then realized all he had left was the truth.
“I miss your mother, too,” he said, for the first time in two years voicing the words aloud. “I think about her a lot. I think about the way it used to be.”
“I want Mommy back,” she said, clinging tighter. Her face pressed against his chest and her tears dampened his shirt.
“I know, sweetie. But I can’t make her come back. No one can. You must remember that Mommy loved you more than anything in the world.”
“I m-miss her.”
“I know. And she knows. She’ll always know how much you love her.”
Laurel raised her head and looked at him. “Does she?”
He nodded. “I promise.” Her bangs hung in her eyes. He smoothed them back and smiled. “She’s not the only one who cares about you. Anne cares.”
Laurel frowned. “No, she doesn’t. She’s never cared. She’s just pretending. I hate her.”
“All right. I’ll tell her to leave first thing in the morning. Then you’ll never have to see her again.”
As he’d suspected, Laurel’s anger gave way to more tears. “I don’t want her to go.”
“But if you hate her, why do you want her here?”
“Oh, Daddy.” She hugged him tight. Her slight frame shook with the agony of her sobs.
“Hush, baby.” He squeezed and rocked her. “I know you’re confused. I’m confused, too.” He drew in a deep breath. There was nothing left to lose. “When you first told me you wanted to meet your birth mother, I was very angry.” She stiffened in his arms, but he continued rocking her, occasionally smoothing her hair. She was so young, too damn young to deal with this. “I was afraid I’d lose you.”
She raised her head and looked at him. Her hazel eyes swam with tears. Hazel eyes. Anne’s mother’s eyes. It didn’t matter what set of traits had created them, he realized. They were his daughter’s eyes and they were beautiful. He kissed her cheek.
“How could you lose me, Daddy? I promised I wouldn’t run away again.”
He smiled. “Not that way, silly. I thought you’d love her more than me. You wanted to live with her in Houston, remember?”
“Yeah.” She wiped her face. “I like it here, now. I want to stay. I want Annie to stay. But I was so mad at her.” She glanced down. “If I don’t hate her, why did I say that?”
“I think you’re confused because you really like Anne. It’s okay to like her. It doesn’t mean you love your mother any less. There’s plenty of room in your heart to love both of them.”
“And you?” she asked, smiling.
“And me.” He touched her cheek. “Anne was only four years older than you are now when she got pregnant, Laurel. That’s not very ol
d to make a big decision about what to do with an unexpected baby. I can’t be sorry she gave you up for adoption. I know that probably makes you feel funny inside, but it’s true.”
Her smile faded. “You’re glad she didn’t want me?”
“I think she wanted you very much. But if she’d kept you, your mother and I wouldn’t have been able to adopt you. I wouldn’t give you up for anything.”
Her smile almost blinded him. She flung herself at him, but this time there weren’t any tears. He held her close and realized he’d spoken the truth. Even with all he’d had to go through because of Michael’s lies, the one thing he couldn’t regret was Laurel. She was his daughter in every way; she made the heartache worthwhile.
He held her shoulders and eased her away. When their eyes met, he smiled. “You and Annie share something very special, something you could never have with your mother. You and Annie are blood relatives. That’s a bond that can never be broken.”
She cocked her head. “We aren’t blood relatives?”
He shook his head. “I could prick our fingers and mingle the blood if you’d like.”
“Oh, Daddy, gross.” She laughed and rolled away from him. Bracing her elbow on the mattress, she propped her head up on her hand. “Thanks for talking to me. I feel better.”
“Good.”
“Can I—?” She picked at the blanket. Her bedspread and matching curtains hadn’t arrived yet. “Can I still go to the party?”
He tried to frown, but he was too relieved to even fake it. “Sure, but only if I take you and then pick you up the next morning.”
She thought for a moment. “Okay.”
*
Anne rolled dough into long strips. She brushed the entire length with egg white then loosely knotted it. With a spatula she placed the roll on the cookie sheet next to four others.
“I can’t believe I’m making bread by hand,” she muttered. “For a bunch of ingrates who won’t even notice.”
She felt her anger slipping, but she hung on to it. If she didn’t stay mad, she would start thinking about what had just happened with Laurel. Then she would cry, then she would want to leave. At this point, leaving wasn’t an option, so she couldn’t think about it or her daughter’s angry words. She’d already figured out the tears didn’t accomplish anything, but that didn’t stop her eyes from burning.
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