Hope’s Child

by Helen R. Myers

  Vernon Gandolf shifted his gaze to Lyon, who shrugged and said, “It’s possible. She knows him pretty well.”

  The weary doctor uttered a succinct reaction to that probability. “Okay, then if I can’t get him to Dallas, I’ll keep him monitored for another hour or so, and review my notes. If nothing changes, I’ll have no choice but to release him.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find him more than agreeable to that,” Hope said.

  Shaking his head Dr. Gandolf gestured for her to follow him back down the hall. “He’s been asking for you every fifteen minutes since he knew you were here.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute. Let me see Lyon out first.”

  As soon as the doctor was gone, Hope’s slow burn intensified. “The nerve of the man!”

  “Let it go. You’ve wasted enough energy on him,” Lyon said. “I guess he’s just running out of ideas on how to get me out of your life. Short of having me shot.”

  “Lyon! Don’t even think such a thing.”

  He stroked her back. “At least you know that you won’t be spending your entire day sitting here.”

  But so much time had been lost. “I didn’t bake you a cake. You didn’t get your present.”

  “You bought me a present?”

  His bemused expression had her touching his chest in tenderness and reassurance. “Of course. I got you a hat and boots. I thought we could ride together sometime. I sneaked a peek into your closet for sizes because I didn’t want to make a mistake.” The last was a plea that he not get upset with her all over again.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’re right, I should have asked for permission first.”

  “Hope.” He lifted her chin so that she would have to meet his gaze. He started to say something, but instead leaned down and kissed her.

  That communicated emotions that words couldn’t. Hope let her body tilt into his, eager to absorb every sensation. How she had missed him and this, his tenderness and his strength.

  Lyon was reluctant to sever their contact and lingered by touching his forehead to hers. “Are you going to be okay going in there alone?”

  “Yes. I won’t stay long. And I’ve already called Freddie to reschedule my meetings today because I didn’t know what would be happening here.”

  “In that case maybe I’ll take off early.”

  Hope loved how strong his heart beat against her hand. They made his words feel like a promise. “That would be lovely.”

  When he was gone, Hope collected her sack and went to find her father. He remained in an examination cubicle and didn’t look happy about it.

  “Took you long enough,” Ellis grumbled as soon as he laid eyes on her.

  “It could have been longer if I followed my first impulse to leave, once I realized what you’d done,” she replied.

  He shot her a dark look, but Hope remained unimpressed. He looked less threatening in that hospital gown. She did wonder, though, how they’d managed to get him in one of those. Probably only because he thought it would make him appear more convincing.

  “What bull has that fool Gandolf been feeding you? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Can’t recognize a sick man when he has one right under his nose.”

  His wild gesticulations sent the heart monitor going berserk, but although the nurses at the station were instantly alert, they didn’t approach the cubicle.

  “I’m sure he thinks your problem is nothing that the sight of an extra long hypodermic needle wouldn’t cure.” Hope didn’t see an ounce of regret in his demeanor. “You should be ashamed of yourself wasting these good people’s time. What if there’d been a real emergency here and you’d stolen priceless attention from someone?”

  “Oh, stop the melodramatics. I don’t have to listen to this.”

  “No, you don’t. But you better have cried wolf for the first and last time. And understand this—” she took a step closer so she could keep her words strictly between the two of them “—you’re not going to succeed in getting Lyon fired.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Then consider this—he’s my husband. If he has to relocate, I’ll go with him.”

  As she’d hoped, her warning left her father slack-jawed. Satisfied, she added with some reluctance, “Do you need a ride home or is Greenleaf coming to fetch you?”

  Ellis ignored the question. Narrowing his eyes, he replied, “You won’t leave. You’re like your mother. You loved this place too much.”

  Although his pronouncement held its own shock, Hope managed to avoid flinching. But in that instant she did think him a particularly warped human being. “If that’s the only reason you managed to keep her with you, I’m more disappointed in you than I can say. No wonder you thought I’d marry Will if he’d survived. But you’re wrong about me. Maybe if Mother had lived you would have found out you were wrong about her, too.”

  Without waiting for a reply or to see if he did have that ride home, Hope left. She had to believe that her father was speaking from a point of loneliness and selfishness and didn’t really believe what he’d said about her mother. It had to be terrible to have a lover and partner gone for so many years already. Maybe he was starting to feel abandoned by her. All she knew was that a year ago his surgically sharp words would have debilitated her; now she rejected them and returned to the property with a sense of excitement. Lyon had changed that for her.

  She should have been exhausted, but as soon as she got home she was energized, and a luxuriating bath only added to that. Molly arrived shortly afterward and Hope had her starting on the cake while she blow-dried her hair. Then she put out Lyon’s gifts on the breakfast table and helped Molly with the icing.

  After the cake was on the racks cooling, they went outside and picked the garden. Although Lyon wasn’t a fussy eater and seemed to like everything she’d made so far, she knew there was nothing like a thick, juicy steak dinner. The steaks were out on the counter defrosting, while a marinade was mixed together waiting in the refrigerator. Hope collected tomatoes, bell peppers, and had Molly retrieve the last of the hanging spring onions from the awning by the garden shed. They never used chemical fertilizer, but everything was still washed well and left to air dry in the dish drainer to go with the store-bought organic lettuce, since it was already too hot in Texas for lettuce to grow until October, when temperatures dropped permanently from triple-digit threats and even the 90s.

  Once they had the cake frosted with a homemade mocha chocolate icing and chocolate shavings, Molly returned home and Hope checked in with Freddie again and returned some calls.

  She was cutting zinnias and day lilies for a bouquet for the breakfast nook table when Lyon returned. It was just after three in the afternoon. Feeling as light-headed and hopeful as she did on the day of their wedding two months ago, she met him in the kitchen.

  “Five minutes and I would have had these in water and everything would have been perfect,” she told him as he unbuckled his gun belt.

  “I’ll leave and come back,” he said. He even did the side-to-side dart reminiscent of his old football days when he’d been Will’s favorite receiver.

  “No!” He might be teasing her, but she was taking no chances. “Come sit. Can you have a beer before you look at your presents?”

  “I’ll get it. You go ahead and try making those flowers look prettier than you.”

  Hope had changed into a gauzy poet’s shirt that showed off her sun-kissed complexion to perfection. She could still wear her jeans, but they were low rise and she had to leave the top button open; however, the shirt hid that.

  Returning with the beer he whistled at the cake. “You and Molly have been busy.”

  “A little bit, but I suspect they already OD’d you on sugar at the station, huh?” she asked.

  “Hardly. I got a foot-long hot dog for lunch with a card that reads ‘Dream on,’ several other cards far worse that I won’t describe or ever let you see, and we’ll leave it at that.”


  “Ruthless bunch you work with.”

  “They’re enjoying tormenting me about you whenever they get the chance.”

  “Because I’m Ellis Harrell’s daughter?”

  “Because you’re the most beautiful woman most of them have ever seen, a little younger than they think I deserve and any one of them would have stuck a fork in my thigh to beat me in a race if getting you was the prize.”

  “Did I say brutal? I meant twisted.”

  “They’re okay.” He took a long drag on his bottle and sighed with pleasure. “The sign at the bank is reading 105. I was going to suggest we go over to my family’s farm so I can check on things and feed the horses, but you don’t need the heat or the rough drive on the four-wheeler I keep there.”

  “But I’d like to see your horses. And you could start breaking in your hat and boots.”

  He looked pleased. “You’re sure?”

  “Let’s give it a shot.”

  Lyon walked over to the table and looked at the boxes. Hope realized he was looking for a card, but she’d skipped that part of things, stuck on what the right tone should be given his reserve lately. After all, “To my darling husband” would have hardly fit how things stood between them.

  Thankfully, he soon opened the hatbox and smiled at the beautifully woven summer hat with the rattlesnake-skin band and turquoise-and-silver buckle holding it in place. He whistled silently.

  “That’s a beaut.”

  He slid it onto his head with the casualness and confidence of a man well used to Western hats and would have had Tan mimicking in hero worship. Hope watched with the pleasure of having remembered the shape of the one he’d worn since he was helping his father on the farm; she’d managed to get the fitter her father always used to duplicate it.

  The boots took a little more work to get on, but also fit like they were made for him. “I can’t wear these on anything but pavement dressed in my good suit,” he said in concern. “It would be criminal to make them dusty or muddy.”

  “It’s not like we’re going to be tromping through any lowland,” she said delighted that he was thrilled with them. “Why don’t you change and I’ll pack some bottled water?”

  Lyon stopped her as she turned to get the canvas tote in the washroom storage cabinet. “This is more than generous. More than I deserve,” he told her.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes. Considering the way I’ve been acting—”

  She rose on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “Happy Birthday, Lyon.”

  He started to reach for her, only to check himself. “I’ll go change,” he said.

  Having missed his touch as much as their conversations, Hope felt a slight pang of disappointment; but she took heart: at least this was a step in the right direction.

  Less than fifteen minutes later they were en route, driving Lyon’s silver Chevy extended cab pickup truck, which he kept parked on the far side of the driveway since he’d moved in. Hope had offered the use of hers, but the farm had a dirt driveway and he didn’t see a reason for her clean truck to get dusty.

  “What did your father say?” he asked as he adjusted the air conditioner.

  Hope didn’t want to ruin the pleasant atmosphere they’d been enjoying but didn’t see how she could refuse, so she relayed their conversation to him. As she feared, he didn’t like what he heard.

  “He’s no better than a bully,” he muttered.

  “You wouldn’t be in a very good mood, either, if you’d gone through the battery of tests he did.”

  “He wouldn’t have had to endure them if he hadn’t lied. You’re the one who suffered standing watch all night and worrying. I’m sure that did the baby a heckuva lot of good, too.”

  “The baby has the best bed in the world,” Hope countered stroking her tummy. Sighing she continued, “I’m not making excuses for him, but he’s an empty, unhappy man.”

  “Mostly a result of his conduct and choices in life. Splitting us up would magically change things? Now that’s twisted.”

  Hope enjoyed the scenery and let him vent. She’d done her own share in years past.

  “Do you think your mother would have left him in time?” Lyon finally asked.

  “If he’d spoken to her that way, it’s possible. But he didn’t. He was tough, yet ultimately he always could be tamed or toned down by her. Like I said, she’s been gone too long and without her good influence, he’s gone rogue.”

  As they turned into Lyon’s family’s farm, Hope looked at the remnants of where the house once stood. He’d done a great deal of cleaning up since the tornado. There was a new barn and a small trailer where he’d stayed on weekends when he was doing major projects that kept him working past dark and waking at dawn. The oak trees on the place were over a century old, but there were few of them. That’s why the tornado had kept its strength and been so deadly.

  “Is it hard to come back?” she asked.

  “Sometimes. Does it bother you?”

  She could see that he was sincerely concerned and shook her head. No one enjoyed going to a funeral home or cemetery, and coming to this site where loss had taken place brought its own vibrations. However, she felt no malevolence here, not like one would at a crime scene.

  “It does make me sad for you,” she admitted.

  “That’s why I haven’t stayed in the trailer in a good while. In the last year I’ve been feeling my aloneness too much when I’m here.”

  Since about the time that she had gotten engaged to Will. Was that a coincidence? The thought made Hope’s pulse leap.

  Lyon parked in the shade of the barn and his two geldings, Big John and Dodger, left the shade of the nearest oak and wandered lazily over to them. Lyon brought out the bag of apples he’d sacked at the house and began slicing pieces for them. John wasn’t the largest horse Hope had ever seen, although his withers stood inches higher than she did, but his attitude made you think he was. He made sure smaller but wily Dodger waited his turn for the treats and still sized up Hope all at the same time. He pawed the ground several times before he let her get close and stand next to Lyon.

  “I’m honored, Big John,” she said finally stroking the seriously alpha horse.

  “Don’t take it personally, you’re quite a mystery to him,” Lyon explained. “He hasn’t been exposed to a female in some years and your scent combined with that of the mares’ on your clothes intrigues him.” He, too, stroked the snorting horse’s nose and told the proud animal, “Behave. I know you’re eating up her attention as much as you’re salivating over the apples.”

  Dodger was all charm and mischief, at once skirting around Big John to appeal to Hope for his own TLC, then nipping at John’s rump to get his attention off the treats so he could get his share. Invariably, he would have to dart out of the way of the larger horse’s bared teeth.

  “It may be hard to believe, but those two are usually good pals,” Lyon said. “They’re just showing off for you.”

  “Didn’t you have some cattle?” Hope asked scanning the rest of the property.

  Lyon pointed over a low bluff on the west that hid the pond and a larger grouping of trees. “They’re probably staying close to the water and shade. I only keep about twenty head at a time. That’s enough work for one man, although Tan said he would like to help out. Your few half-grown calves don’t exactly fulfill his hunger for working with beef critters.”

  Hope laughed. “I suspect I’d better get more land fast.”

  Lyon got out the four-wheeler and gave her a slow and easy tour of the place. The cattle were exactly where he told her they might be. The pond was churned up to more resemble a mud puddle indicating they recently indulged in a dunking.

  “The flies are getting bad,” Lyon noted as the cattle swished and slapped their tails, then stomped their hind legs to chase off the pesky insects, especially from udders sweet from milk and sensitive from growing calves’ teeth.

  “Thank heavens for civilization so women don’t have to go t
hrough that torture,” Hope said wincing in sympathy. She caught a secret smile tug Lyon’s firm lips and lowered the sunglasses she’d put on for the ride to give him a warning look. “Don’t even think of going there.”

  “But it’s my birthday.”

  It was wonderful to see his eye light with amusement and his broad chest shake with secret laughter. Except that her imagination went into overdrive, too, and that had her breasts growing taut and ultra sensitive to where the delicate satin and lace was unbearably uncomfortable. She slid her hands between her knees and clamped them tight to keep from fidgeting.

  As they circled back toward the barn, Hope eagerly tried to change the subject. She pointed to the area behind the great oak where Big John and Dodger had returned. “If you were ever to rebuild, that would be the perfect spot for a house. There’s not a good view of the road, but that grouping of cedars around your north property line would be a great wind barrier against the winter cold, and the oak would protect from the summer storms.” She couldn’t help but remember the tornado that had killed his parents and three others in town, as well as injured several more.

  Lyon slowed to consider that. “I hadn’t given it much thought, but you’re right.”

  “Then again, you might not want to rebuild.” She didn’t want him to think she was suggesting that he live here again.

  “Not for myself, no,” he said. “I thought of putting up a house and then listing the property with a Realtor. I’d definitely have to if I was forced out of my job. But I guess I automatically thought of the existing home-site location, only there’s no slab there, so you’re right. I could build elsewhere, and your idea is a good one.”

  He circled away from the barn and stopped near the old home site. The surviving shrubbery that had once circled the house had gone wild and looked like the entryway to a secret garden. Lyon pointed to an open area. “That’s where I found them. My mother was pulled from the house, then crushed by debris. My father survived long enough to crawl to her. He lay there with his hand covering my mother’s. That was all of her that he could see.”