Rancher to the Rescue

by Patricia Forsythe

  But truth be told, she realized she’d been spending more time immersed in her work since her sister got married. Could she have dropped the ball again? Been so preoccupied with her own life that she’d missed picking up on whatever internal turmoil her twin sister was going through?

  Faye had always been the go-getter, the first to start her own business. Their parents used to point out Faye’s strengths all the time, not realizing that encouraging Clara to be...well...just like her twin...used to bother Clara more than she ever let them know. And when Jim had said that Clara had left him a few days ago, Faye knew her sister hadn’t gone to visit their parents in Philly because, when she’d called up there to check, they’d immediately asked how she, Clara and Mia were doing. She didn’t tell them what was going on. Worrying her parents wouldn’t have helped matters. And Clara wouldn’t want her to share private details with their parents. They had a tendency to side with Jim on everything. After all, he had status, power and money. And he was their first—and perfect—son-in-law. According to them, Clara needed to be there for him and count her blessings.

  Sometimes Faye wondered if they’d wished they’d had twin sons instead of daughters. That, or maybe they’d missed the memo on women’s lib. Or maybe they’d never understand how one comment like that could mince a person’s self-respect and confidence into such tiny pieces it would take a lifetime to rebuild it. Or a lot of therapy.

  The fact was, their parents might have approved of Faye applying herself, but nothing she did had ever been good enough. Any compliment they’d issued had come paired with a criticism and advice on how to do even better—from school projects when she was younger, to steps she’d taken when opening her business. Clara had nothing to be jealous of. She didn’t need to hide what she was going through from Faye of all people. If you couldn’t trust your own twin when your life was falling apart, who could you trust?

  Except that you haven’t always been there for her. Have you? No. She hadn’t.

  Clara’s message this morning played through her mind again. The tremor in her voice confirmed what Faye had known deep down. Clara had reached a breaking point, alright. But it had nothing to do with depression and everything to do with Jim. Had he threatened her? Hurt her again? God, Faye wished she hadn’t ignored her instincts when Clara didn’t return her calls. Maybe she hadn’t always been there for her sister, but she was here now. This time, even if Clara reappeared and said that Jim was the kindest man on the face of the earth, she wouldn’t believe her. She wouldn’t bend or break this time. If Clara needed strength to stand up for herself, Faye would be that strength. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

  She hurried up the stone steps to the front door and rang the bell. If her brother-in-law had done anything to hurt her sister or confine her to some facility against her wishes, there would be hell to pay.

  She looked down the street for any sign of Jim’s BMW. She needed to hurry. She hit the buzzer a second time, remembering belatedly that Clara always had to remind her to knock softly in case Mia was napping. Did kids even nap at this hour? The door swung open.

  “Oh, hey, Clara. Come on in. Did you have a nice lunch date with Jim?” A short-haired brunette in leggings and a red tunic sweater stepped aside and motioned her in. Faye smiled on the outside and tried to channel her inner Clara. Leave it to Jim not to want neighbors and friends to know where his wife really was—assuming he had checked her into a mental health facility. He’d worry about gossip and his professional reputation.

  “It was great, thanks.” From what she knew of him, she doubted any date with Jim could be good. The man was full of himself. Judgy without realizing it. Or maybe he did, but felt entitled to be that way. He was liberal with his demands, yet conservative with his compliments when it came to her sister. So much like their parents it was disconcerting. Only their parents didn’t believe in corporal punishment.

  Clara always defended Jim and their relationship, but Faye noticed the little things. Clara seemed less confident in herself after marrying him, and she’d changed her mind about getting her master’s in education. Witnessing their marriage only further convinced Faye that if she ever lived with another being it would be a dog. She rubbed her gloved palms together, thankful she’d had the foresight to cover the fact that she wasn’t wearing Clara’s wedding ring. “Something came up and he needed to head back to the office and I have an errand to run closer to home, so I thought I’d pick Mia up first.”

  She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears the way her sister always did. Faye usually wore hers twisted up in an alligator clip to keep it out of the way during work. She had deliberately removed the clip before driving over.

  “He still working late all the time?” The woman peered out the door before closing it. “New car?”

  “No, no. It’s a loaner while mine gets an oil change. I hope Mia wasn’t any trouble. Thanks so much for having her.”

  Jim did tend to work late, but she deliberately skirted the question. According to Clara, he was planning to pick Mia up today, which meant he was clearly adjusting his work schedule around Clara being out of the picture. No doubt he was lining up a nanny or planning to sign his kid up for daycare. He’d have to, given his work schedule. Faye seriously hoped he’d be running late right now.

  “No problem at all. She and Zak had fun playing. She was pretty quiet, as usual. Maybe more so today. I hope she’s not coming down with something. Her thumb was in her mouth almost the whole time too. You’d better watch out or she’ll end up needing braces. I made sure to break Zak’s thumb sucking as soon as I could.” She interrupted herself and pointed toward the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t have time for a cup of coffee or tea? They’re just now waking up from a nap.”

  Was that code for you woke them up with the doorbell?

  “So sorry, but I really can’t.” Did she owe the woman money? Faye wasn’t sure if her sister traded playdates with friends in lieu of paid babysitting. She had referred to a playdate in her message. Faye wasn’t even sure why her sister was friends with such a competitive parent. Talk about relationship patterns. “If Mia’s out of sorts, I should get her home in case she’s catching a cold or something.” Maybe that excuse would be enough to delay further invitations or babysitting fees, if she owed any. Not that Mia’s being quiet was an unusual thing. Now in retrospect, Faye wondered if it had anything to do with the situation at home. She tended to be either extremely quiet or inconsolable.

  She followed as the woman—Faye really wished Clara had mentioned a name—motioned her down a short hall that led from the cozy foyer to a kitchen and adjoining family room at the back of the house. An extra-large, build-in-place playpen filled with a wonderland of toddler toys and a couple of small, padded mats for napping took up a good part of the room. Mia sat in the playpen, her blond hair sticking up on the right side of her rosy face, still looking groggy and sucking her thumb. The other child was trying to escape the penned space. If he was any older than Mia’s sixteen months, it didn’t look like it was by much, based on his size, but he was definitely more daring than her niece. Then again, the Donovan girls had been taught to follow rules for so long it had probably worked its way into their genes.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Faye said, as she scooped up Mia, nuzzled her cheek and gave her a kiss. “Time to go.”

  Mia pouted but didn’t say anything. She just examined her aunt with the scrutinizing eyes of a toddler. Clara had mentioned once that she worried Mia wasn’t saying as many words as some of her playmates, but right now, Faye was glad the kid didn’t know how to say her aunt’s name yet.

  “Fa,” Mia said, as if on cue. Faye closed her eyes briefly. Had her scent given her away? Whom was she kidding? Babies knew who their mothers were, even if they were identical twins. Her chest cramped and her heart beat even faster. Mia had just tried saying her name for the first time—at the worst time. Panic and pride swirled inside her.
Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed hard. Baby, I hope your mommy is safe. I’ll keep you safe until I can find her. She gave Mia another peck on the cheek.

  “No, we’re not going far. Just to the store and home. Come on, honey.” She hoped the word cover-up would go over smoothly.

  “That’s really good! You didn’t tell me she’d picked up a new word. Zak is up to five words already.”

  Was she keeping count? Did competition between kids begin before the age of two now? Why not get a head start on college choices?

  “Oh, her jacket?” Faye asked, looking around the room. Clara usually brought the floral print bag full of baby stuff whenever she visited or they went shopping together. It had been one of the gifts Faye had given Clara at her baby shower. She didn’t see it.

  “Right here.” Zak’s mom reached into a coat closet and brought out the bag.

  She took the proffered coat and set Mia down just long enough to get her bundled. The woman ducked her head in a small closet between the kitchen and living room.

  “I have her diaper bag here too. They literally just woke up so I didn’t have a chance to check her diaper. If you want to—”

  “I’ll have to change it at home. We’ll be there soon enough.” She knew she was probably sounding like a terrible mother, but if they didn’t get out of there fast, Mia might start crying for her mama or, worse yet, her father would show up. She lifted her back into her arms and took the bag. The wall clock over the kitchen fridge read one forty-five. Please be late, Jim. Please. “Thanks so much. I’ll give you a call to set up the next play time.”

  “I thought we’d agreed on next Saturday as our trade. I made reservations for Mat and I for our anniversary,” she said, ruffling the hair of her escape artist, as he clung to her leg.

  Shoot. Well, someone was going to be missing their reservation.

  “Right. We did. I’m sorry. I do have that on the calendar,” Faye lied.

  “Great. You had me worried for a sec.” The mom lifted Zak up and led Faye back toward the front door. They were almost there. She’d be on the road any minute. She was going to have to buckle Mia into that darned car seat in record time. A few more steps and they’d be outside.

  The doorbell rang.

  Faye stopped. Her face went cold. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. It took a second, after the door was opened, to register that a deliveryman had rung the bell. Not Jim. She gripped Mia a little tighter and rushed forward.

  “Thanks again,” she blurted, as she squeezed past the guy with Mia on one hip and her bag slung over the opposite shoulder. She didn’t look back or wave to Zak’s mom. Jim could drive up any moment. And even if she drove off before he did, it wouldn’t give her much time to get out of town or ditch her car. She threw the bag in the car and frantically worked the car seat straps around Mia. She’d have to get rid of the bag, once she emptied the contents into her duffel. The baby bag was unique. Too recognizable, not to mention she’d had it inscribed with Clara’s name. She was also leaving behind her Beetle, her business...her home. And possibly her freedom. But as much as it all meant to her, she’d throw it away a hundred times over if it meant ensuring that Mia would be safe. She’d give her life for her sister and this little girl. She glanced down the street again, before she closed the back door and got in the driver’s seat. Please be late. Of all days, she prayed that today Jim would be slammed with an overload of prosecution cases.

  She just hoped she wouldn’t end up being one of them.

  Copyright © 2020 by Rula Sinara

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  ISBN: 9781488061936

  Rancher to the Rescue

  Copyright © 2020 by Patricia Knoll

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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