The Christmas Cradle

by Linda Warren

  MARISA AWOKE to a strange numbness, a numbness of mind, body and soul. It was several moments before she realized she was lying on the sofa in the library. The events of the last hours started to come back. Was it true? she asked herself. Was Ellie really her daughter? Yes, she was. The truth resounded in her head like chimes in the wind. Ellie…Ellie…Ellie.

  With that name secure in her heart, she slowly sat up, pushing her tumbled hair away from her face. She tried to calm her shakiness as her eyes strayed to Colter.

  He sat in a chair, his lean body hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He was white as a sheet, and his eyes reflected a sorrow that broke her heart.

  What must he think of her? For years he’d believed that she hadn’t wanted their child—that she’d given her away. And she’d thought he was being hostile for no reason, when all the time… A whimper left her throat.

  At the pained sound, Colter glanced at her, his eyes full of worry and concern, but he didn’t come to her. He watched her with a troubled gaze as if he didn’t know what to say or do. He seemed disillusioned with the whole situation. She couldn’t blame him.

  She hadn’t realized Reed was sitting beside her until he asked, “Sis, are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she muttered through dry, stiff lips, but she knew her answer belied the grief that must show in her face.

  “Good,” he said. “I know you’re still shaken up, but Mother and Father have some things to say that you need to hear. It’s important. Okay?” He patted her hands to reassure her.

  “I have nothing to say to them.”

  “I empathize with the feeling, and after they’re done, you and I will walk out of here and never come back.”

  Her eyes narrowed on his face. “You’re leaving?”

  “You and I will not be puppets anymore, but I feel you need to hear the details before you can completely accept what happened. Okay?”

  She nodded. Everything in her rejected the idea, but she didn’t have the strength to resist.

  Colter got slowly to his feet. Their eyes met and intense emotions flowed between them, but neither said a word. They didn’t need to. Their eyes were conversing in a way their voices never could. There were so many feelings written on his face, but the one that she saw most clearly was “I’m sorry,” and she was sure the same message was written on hers.

  Vanessa and Richard moved forward, and Marisa gripped her hands as they lay in her lap, waiting for the appeals and the pleading to start. But the silence stretched until she thought they weren’t going to speak at all.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive us,” Vanessa said. “I’m not sure I can forgive myself, but I hope you’ll listen…and try to understand.”

  Understand? They wanted her to understand. No woman on earth could be that understanding.

  “When I met your father, I had a promising career as a ballerina in front of me—a dream I’d had since I was a child. There was a strong sexual attraction between us and we had a brief, passionate affair while I was visiting my parents in Texas. I returned to New York to continue my dancing and then discovered I was pregnant. I was nineteen years old and faced with becoming a mother and losing everything I’d ever dreamed about.” She paused.

  “My parents forced me to marry your father. It was the only option for a young lady in those days. The marriage was a disaster, of course. I had to give up my dream of becoming a dancer, and I’ve regretted it every day since.”

  She’d always thought her parents had an arranged marriage. She didn’t know her mother was pregnant at the time. Vanessa had never talked about that part of her life.

  “Don’t you see, Marisa?” her mother begged. “As much as I love you, I couldn’t let history repeat itself. You deserved the career I never had. I didn’t want anything to take that away from you.”

  Marisa got to her feet, surprised she could actually stand; something inside was giving her strength she hadn’t known she possessed. She began to see her mother in a whole new light—a woman tormented by her own past, trying to protect her daughter from the same fate she’d suffered. She had allowed her own shattered dreams to become entwined with her daughter’s. In effect, she’d done the very thing she had tried to prevent—she’d taken drastic measures to force Marisa onto the path she deemed best for her and had not considered Marisa’s own desires.

  “I never wanted that kind of career, Mother,” she said, her voice weak but very clear. “You wanted it, but you can’t live your life through me. I have feelings and dreams of my own. You never gave me a choice. You just demanded and manipulated until I gave in. And I was desperate to please you. I wanted your love.”

  Her mother closed her eyes as if she was in pain, then opened them again. “Oh, darling, I do love you. You’ve been my whole life since the day you were born. Reed was always so independent, your father’s son, but you—you always seemed to need me.”

  Marisa realized that was true. She’d been very attached to her mother as a child. Leaving her father and brother had been a traumatic experience, and she had clung to her mother even more, afraid of losing her, too. She’d been eager to do everything her mother had asked of her, even playing the piano for long periods of time, trying to gain the expertise she needed to achieve the goals Vanessa had set for her. She’d never had the courage to tell her mother that those goals weren’t hers.

  She could see now that as a teenager looking for freedom, she’d probably used Colter as a means of escape. It didn’t diminish the love she’d felt for him; it only helped explain how everything had gotten so out of control. If she’d been open and honest and able to talk to Vanessa, she would’ve saved everyone so much heartache.

  Her mother thought she’d done the right thing. She had wanted Marisa to be happy and she’d believed that happiness was in her career. It showed just how little they knew each other.

  Her eyes darkened. “I’ll never understand that kind of love. The kind that hurts and destroys other people.”

  A spasm of pain crossed Vanessa’s face. “I have a hard time understanding it myself. All I can say is that I wanted to save you from the mistakes I’d made. I was sure the infatuation you had for this man would burn itself out, and you were so young, so ill-equipped to raise a child on your own. Adoption seemed the only choice, but I couldn’t get you to agree. I was at my wits’ end and finally I called your father. He agreed that you were too young to be a mother.” She looked down at her hands. “We decided the best solution was for the child to be with her father. We contacted Mr. Kincaid, and he came immediately and took the baby. Richard paid the doctor to lie to you. It was the perfect solution. The child would be with her natural father and you could get on with your wonderful life.”

  Wonderful life echoed through Marisa’s mind, resounding in the hollow places of her heart left by the empty years.

  “But your feelings went deeper than we ever imagined. You didn’t get over losing the baby. You were close to a nervous breakdown and you seemed to use your father as a sort of lifeline to get away from me. By then I knew we’d made a terrible mistake, but I didn’t know how to correct it.”

  “You could have told me the truth,” she said with force.

  “Don’t you think I tried? As the months turned into years, you seemed determined not to come back to New York and your training, and I knew I should tell you. But I couldn’t. I tried so many times, but I didn’t want you to hate me.”

  “Now I’ve lost seven years of my daughter’s life. Seven years I can never get back.”

  “I’m so sorry, my darling.”

  Marisa didn’t respond to the heartfelt words, but she saw the past with much greater clarity. She’d been the focal point of her mother’s life—a way to fulfill the dream she’d wanted so badly. And Marisa, in awe of her beautiful mother and wanting her approval, had been a willing victim. But not anymore.

  New strength pumped through her veins. She could get through this. She wasn’t going
to sink down into that valley of despair. A younger Marisa might have, but not the adult Marisa. In her determination she felt as if she’d emerged from shadows into sunshine.

  “When I overheard you and Father talking earlier, you said if I ever found out, you’d lose me forever. You were right. You have hurt me beyond belief, and no parent has the right to do that. I will never forgive you.”

  “Marisa, please,” Richard begged. “You’re a Dalton, a Preston. We’re bound by blood—we’re family.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Ellie’s a Dalton, a Preston, and you gave her away like unwanted garbage.”

  Richard paled.

  “You should see her, Father. She’s bright, funny, adventurous, strong-willed—everything a Preston should be.”

  “Marisa…”

  “You want me to understand, to forgive, but some things just aren’t forgivable.” She turned toward the door. “I’m leaving. Please don’t try to contact me.” She walked out, and Reed and Colter followed.

  OUTSIDE, SHE LEANED against her car, trembling severely.

  “You can’t drive in this condition,” Reed said.

  “Please take me to Cari’s.”

  Cari’s? Colter frowned, wondering why she didn’t want to go to Ellie. That should be her first reaction. Maybe she needed time. He didn’t want to judge her, but he had a little girl who desperately wanted her mommy.

  He was still reeling from the impact of everything he’d heard tonight. Marisa was, too. He had to give her a chance to adjust. He didn’t know what Marisa had in mind.

  One thing he knew for certain, though: Ellie wasn’t leaving the ranch or him. He’d lost Marisa, but he would not lose his daughter.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Please follow us in your car,” Marisa said. “We have to talk.”

  Colter nodded. There wasn’t much he could say. They would now decide what was best for Ellie, and his gut tightened at the thought of his daughter getting hurt. Marisa had been hurt too much, though, and she deserved to know their child. But he wasn’t sure where that left him—somewhere in the middle, fighting for a future for Ellie…and himself.

  He followed them through the busy Dallas traffic to an apartment complex and parked beside them. A dark-haired woman ran out to the car; this must be Cari, and obviously Marisa had called her. Colter took a moment to call Tulley. Ellie was in bed, and he told Tulley he’d get back as soon as he could. He’d tell him later about everything he’d learned tonight. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss on the phone. He grabbed his hat from the seat and made his way toward the group.

  Marisa and Cari hugged while Reed stood some distance away. “My baby’s alive, Cari. My baby’s alive.”

  “This is so wonderful,” Cari said, studying Marisa’s face with a big smile.

  “What?” Marisa asked, brushing away an errant tear.

  “I’m just so relieved. I was afraid this last blow might be too much for you. But looking at you now, I know you’re made of much stronger stuff. I also know you can handle anything—including Colter Kincaid.”

  “Oh, Cari, what am I going to say to him? He’s lived with as many lies during the past few years as I have.”

  “Just tell him what’s in your heart.”

  She tried to remember those words as he walked up, and they climbed the stairs to Cari’s apartment with its stunning view of the Dallas skyline. No one was looking at it, though, or commenting on Cari’s Christmas decorations. Marisa saw only Colter. His hat was in his hand, his eyes filmed with anguish.

  She realized she’d never truly known this man. He had stirred her emotions, filled her heart with girlish fantasies and made her body yearn in a wanton fashion that had left her wanting more, but she’d never really known the person he was inside. How many men would give up so much to raise a child? He was probably more of a man than she’d ever meet again.

  She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “Colter.” Her voice came out a mere whisper.

  Uncertainty mingled with disbelief in his eyes. She could see that he was having difficulty adjusting to the truth. Oh God, how were they ever going to get through this?

  “Marisa,” he murmured, taking a step toward her. “Are you all right?”

  She took a stilted breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

  Running a hand through his hair, he admitted, “I know what you mean. I feel as if I’ve been kicked in the gut and I’m still trying to catch my breath.”

  Silence took hold, and no one seemed inclined to speak.

  Cari stepped forward and held out her hand to Colter. “Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Kincaid.”

  Colter shook her hand, dragging his eyes away from Marisa. “Thank you for taking care of Ellie today.”

  Cari smiled. “She wanted to see Marisa, and I found Marisa for her. She’s a very determined little girl.”

  “Yeah. She can be headstrong.”

  She didn’t get that from me, Marisa thought. She’d always been the dutiful daughter…until she met Colter.

  Silence prevailed again.

  “Junior,” Cari said, “there’s a nightclub around the corner. Why don’t you buy me a drink?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Sure you do.” Cari grabbed her purse and linked her arm through Reed’s. “We’ll see you two later.”

  Cari pulled Reed out the door, but Marisa and Colter hardly noticed. His eyes held hers, and it was just the two of them, needing answers, reassurance and, most of all, forgiveness.

  “Have a seat,” Marisa invited, sitting on the sofa before her legs gave way.

  He sat beside her.

  “I—” They spoke at the same time.

  She pushed her hair nervously behind her ear. “I’m not sure what to say to you. Words seem insufficient.”

  He placed his hat on the coffee table. “I feel the same way.” He stared at his hands. “I’m so sorry for all the cruel things I’ve said to you.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” she murmured. “I understand.”

  “I just keep thinking that if I’d demanded to see you the day Ellie was born, none of this would’ve happened.” He paused. “When the PI gave me the address and I discovered the kind of clinic you were in, I felt like I’d been sucker punched. Not only did you not want me—you also didn’t want our child.”

  As he talked, tears streamed down her checks. He turned to look at her, his eyes darkened by the emotions he was feeling.

  “God, Marisa, why did you let your mother take you there?”

  She felt a familiar stab of guilt. “I think I told you I had a lot of problems with the pregnancy. Mother suggested it would be easier for me in a private clinic, where I could get constant medical attention. I didn’t object because I knew she was ashamed that her daughter was another statistic, an unwed pregnant teenager, and I also knew she wanted to get me away from her circle of friends and the impending gossip. But I didn’t realize it was an adoption clinic until I arrived. By then I was very depressed that you’d married someone else. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. I just wanted peace and quiet.” Her eyes held his. “I adamantly refused to sign any adoption papers. I intended to keep my baby. I…” A sob escaped her and she couldn’t speak.

  He waited, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

  She quickly brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. “I yearned and prayed for you to be with me when he—I mean, she—was born. And all the time you were there, thinking…” She stopped, fighting for control, then added, “I wanted our baby.”

  “I know,” he assured her. “Believe me, I know…now.”

  Struggling with her tears, she whispered, “Tell me about Ellie.”

  His eyes took on a soft glow. “Let’s see, you know how much she weighed. She had these blond curls, and her eyes were a bluish green, and the first time I saw her she was crying at the top of her lungs.”

  Crying? She closed her eyes and she could hear the sound. It
had been real; Ellie was real.

  “I heard her crying,” she said. “The labor was so long and they medicated me. I don’t remember much afterward, but I do remember hearing a baby cry. Mother said it was my imagination. Afterward, I continued to hear that cry in my dreams. The sound has haunted me for years. Somehow, my subconscious must’ve known my baby wasn’t dead.”

  After a pause he said, “Don’t you think it’s time Ellie met her mother?”

  Yes instantly hovered in her throat, then fear consumed her. What was she going to say to Ellie? Could the child cope with the situation?

  “Don’t you?” he asked, obviously noticing her indecision.

  “Yes.” She gulped in air, trying to explain. “I want to be in control of my emotions when I see her so I can handle her reaction. I don’t want her to hate me.”

  “You’ve met Ellie, and you’re well aware of her desire for a mother.”

  “Everything in me wants to drive straight to the ranch and take her in my arms, hold her, tell her I’m her mother, but I’m afraid I’ll fall apart if I do that. I have to—”

  “I can’t even imagine the pain you’re going through, and when I think of your parents all I feel is anger. But I’m tired of all the anger and resentment, and it’s time to focus on Ellie.”

  “Santa said she’d have a mother by Christmas and he was right. I just never dreamed it would be me.” She took a deep breath. “How do we tell her what happened?”

  “Very carefully—with the truth. And we need to do it together.”

  “Yes. But I need tonight to prepare myself.”

  “Okay,” he said, and stood. “It won’t be easy for you or for her, but it has to be done.”

  “I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” she replied, knowing she couldn’t stay away any longer than that.

  He moved to her side and gently stroked her cheek. A familiar flutter started in the pit of her stomach, making it difficult to think coherently. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Resting her head against his chest, she felt his heart beat out a message, a message she understood, a message of forgiveness. They stood there holding each other, letting the pain and misunderstandings of the past slowly ebb away.