The thought of leaving now ripped a hole inside her, but she knew she had no other choice. Going into the bedroom, she tried to keep her heart, her mind empty. She couldn’t think about what she was doing, couldn’t dwell on it or she would lose herself in tears, lose the courage she needed to do the right thing.
It didn’t take her long to pack a suitcase with her most immediate needs. She gathered her toiletries and makeup from the bathroom, fighting against the tears that burned her eyes. She worked quickly, unsure how long Chance would be gone and knowing it was imperative that she be gone by the time he returned home.
Before Chance sold the place, she’d make arrangements to get the rest of her things. She was certain that he would sell when he discovered she didn’t intend to stay married to him. Although he might initially protest her decision, deep inside she was certain he would be relieved.
Chance was a good man and he’d made the offer to be a real husband to her, a real father to their children because of his moral caliber. But Lana loved him too much to allow him to sacrifice his life for her.
She wrote a brief note and propped it up on the kitchen table, unable to walk away without a word of explanation.
It was time to say goodbye. Past time.
She held in her tears until she had her car packed and walked to the barn for the For Sale sign that Chance had taken down the night before. As she entered the barn, the tears could no longer be contained.
Half-blinded by blurry tears, she grabbed the sign and carried it back to the front yard. She shoved it into the ground and for a moment leaned against it, overwhelmed by grief.
She allowed herself only a few minutes to weep, then drove away from the ranch.
It was over. Finished.
There was no happily-ever-after for her and Chance. Her prayers had fallen on deaf ears, for she had prayed, not for Chance to stay, but rather for Chance to love her.
As she drove away, Lana refused to look in her rearview mirror. She didn’t want a last look at the home where she’d been introduced to passion, where she had dreamed of raising children and putting down roots.
She didn’t want a last look at the place that had come to represent the man she loved.
It had been a stupid bargain that they’d made. Her mother had been right, she’d played a game with her heart and she’d lost.
She’d promised him no messy emotions when the time came to part and that was exactly what she would give him. He would never know the depth of her despair, never be allowed to see her overwhelming love for him.
She’d go back to her apartment and build a home there for herself and her two children. And perhaps, if fate were kind, in time she would forget both the boy she had fallen in love with so many years ago and the man he’d become. The man who had stolen her heart.
Chance never sang when he was happy. Unlike his mother, who had either not known or hadn’t cared that she was tone-deaf, he knew he couldn’t carry a tune. Instead, when he was happy, he whistled.
His whistling filled the car as he drove back toward the ranch. He’d accomplished a lot in the two hours he’d spent in town. He’d spoken with Lester Pierce and pulled his ranch off the market, then he’d gone into the baby store and ordered two of the fancy cribs that Lana had liked.
He’d finally ended up in the local discount store where he bought several bags of candy and watched as a couple of kids tried to decide which Halloween costume to buy.
As he’d watched the kids sort through colorful wigs and witches’ hats, he’d realized that in a couple of years, he and Lana would be buying costumes for their own children.
Would they have two girls…two fairy princesses? Or two rough-and-tumble boys? Or perhaps one of each? At some point between the time the doctor had told Chance about the twins and now, Chance had embraced the babies to his heart.
He would not be a father like Sarge. He had nothing but love in his heart for the babies Lana carried, and he knew he could never be the kind of cruel, difficult man that Sarge had been.
For years he’d worried that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, that too many pieces of his father resided inside him for him to ever be a loving, caring parent.
Chance’s fears had even come out in his dreams, when he’d dreamed of his father telling him that he wasn’t dead, but would always live inside Chance’s heart and soul.
Now, with the love for his children sweeping through him, filling his heart, Chance knew that somehow his father had been truly laid to rest.
Chance wasn’t his father, and he had the memory of his mother’s love, her gentle nature and her cheerful laughter inside his heart. He knew he was going to be a wonderful father, and this knowledge filled him with a joy he’d never experienced before.
He pulled into the lane that would take him home, a sense of pride rising up as he saw the house and the outbuildings in the distance. The place looked well-kept, loved.
Funny, how he’d told himself he hated this place, how he’d somehow believed that the house, the barn, the very land itself was tainted with his father’s rage.
Those nights of sitting on the front porch with Lana had renewed his love for this place. Watching the sun set each evening, enjoying good conversation, he’d remembered all the hopes and dreams he’d once entertained.
He would never have the family he’d wanted with his father. It was far too late for the two of them to bond, to build something good and worthwhile, but Chance could build those dreams, those hopes with Lana.
The first thing he’d do when he got home was fix the bathroom door lock and the Sheetrock in the spare bedroom. It was time—past time—to let go of the past. He no longer saw it as fixing his father’s messes, but rather as healing his own wounds and getting on with the rest of his life.
Pulling into the driveway, he frowned as he saw the For Sale sign in the yard. How had that gotten back up? Was it possible somebody else from the realty company had been out while he was gone and put a new sign up?
He parked, grabbed his plastic shopping bag of candy and hurried into the house. “Lana?” he called as he stepped through the front door.
The silence that answered him sent a cold rivulet of worry through him. Had something happened? He suddenly realized he hadn’t seen her car.
She’d seemed fine when he’d left. Had she started having pains? Had the morning sickness returned with a frightening vengeance?
He raced from the living room into the kitchen and instantly saw the note on the table. His fingers trembled as he picked it up and read:
Chance,
I can’t stay. We had an agreement and I think it’s best if we stick to it. You never intended to be a father and you’re free to go back to the life you led before our crazy bargain.
Thanks for two of the best months of my life.
Lana
He read the note twice, as if somehow the words might change in the second reading. But they didn’t. He set the note on the table and went into their bedroom.
The closet door hung open and it was apparent that most of her clothes were gone. She was gone. The dresser top once again held only his things, none of hers. The only item left behind was the candle on her nightstand, its vanilla scent a haunting reminder of their nights spent in mindless passion.
He sank down on the edge of the bed, his head whirling. She’d released him. She’d released him to go back to the life he’d led before her, but the problem was he didn’t want to be released.
He couldn’t imagine going back to his solitary lifestyle. He didn’t want a succession of unfamiliar women, didn’t want an endless chain of impersonal motel rooms and strange towns.
When he had made the decision to remain here and be a husband to Lana and a father to their children, it had never entered his mind that she might not want the same thing.
How arrogant he’d been to assume that she might want him in her life. How egotistical to just take for granted that she’d want to remain married to him, might want to
build a real and lasting marriage with him.
All she ever wanted was a sperm donor. Sarge’s words from one of Chance’s nightmares came back to haunt him. You aren’t a keeper, boy.
“Stop it,” he murmured aloud, halting the familiar old hurtful refrains. He was finished listening and believing his father’s words.
He was not a loser.
He was not worthless.
But at the moment he felt utterly lost.
Lana. His heart cried out her name. How was she going to manage raising two children alone? Why wouldn’t she want him to help her, to support her?
He left the bedroom, unable to stand the haunting scent of the candle any longer. He returned to the kitchen and read the note yet again.
Thanks for two of the best months of my life. He read that particular line over and over again. Confused, he set the note aside and slumped down at the table.
If the last two months with him had been the best in her life, then why wasn’t she here with him now? Why would she want to end what they’d been building? And why…why would she want to deny those babies their father?
He needed to talk to her. He needed to make her understand that she needed him, that those babies needed him. He couldn’t just let her run from him. He had to run after her.
Thankfully, on the day of their wedding ceremony, he’d picked her up at her apartment, so he knew that was probably where she would be now.
Adrenaline pumped through him as he raced to his car and pulled away from the ranch. He felt frantic, as if he were about to fight for his life. It was an unpleasant feeling, one he’d never experienced before.
He released a sigh of relief as he pulled up before her apartment complex and saw her car parked in one of the spaces out front. Good, she was here.
He bounded up the stairs to her second-floor apartment and knocked rapidly on the door.
There was no reply.
“Lana,” he called through the door as he knocked once again. “Please open the door. We need to talk.”
Still there was no reply. He tried the door, but it was locked. “Lana, please. This is important. You can’t just leave me like this. We need to talk about it. You need me…the babies need me.”
The door to the next apartment opened and a wizened old woman peered out at him. Chance frowned in frustration. “Do you mind? This is private.”
The old woman snorted. “It isn’t too private with you yelling through the door loud enough for half the town to hear you.” She slammed her door with a snort of indignation.
Still Lana’s door remained closed and no sound drifted out from within. Maybe she wasn’t here, after all. Perhaps Maya had picked her up. A wave of overwhelming despair swept through him.
Reluctantly, Chance left the apartment and got back into his car. He had to find Lana, but he didn’t know where to look. All he really knew was that he didn’t want to return to the ranch without her. She belonged there…with him.
Meredith sat in the back of the patrol car, one hand clutching Emily’s. Rand sat in the front seat with Detective Thad Law, and another patrol car followed behind theirs.
Nobody spoke and Meredith’s attention was focused intently on the scenery that flashed by outside the car window. Home. She was finally going home.
Rand turned around and offered her a supportive smile. Her heart expanded with love for the handsome son who had worked so hard to make it possible for her to reclaim her place as a Colton.
Meredith knew when Rand had initially contacted the authorities in Prosperino with the outlandish story of twin sisters and Patsy’s deception, they had all been reluctant to accept his wild claims.
Thankfully, Rand had a sterling reputation and a stubborn streak a mile long. He’d talked and talked and finally somebody listened. Meredith showing up at the police station that morning had stunned everyone who knew Patsy as Meredith Colton.
Meredith refocused her attention out the window, a surge of excitement coursing through her as she recognized familiar territory. Within minutes she saw the terra-cotta roof rising in the distance and her heart leapt. Home.
She remembered! The impressive columns, the covered porches, everything was suddenly achingly familiar. She felt tears burning behind her eyelids as overwhelming emotion swept through her.
Emily pulled at her hand, making Meredith realize she’d been squeezing it too tightly. She released her hold and flashed Emily a smile. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Emily nodded, but didn’t return Meredith’s smile. Meredith ached as she saw the deep shadows of misery that clung inside Emily’s beautiful blue eyes.
Had Emily suffered a cut, Meredith would have applied antiseptic spray and a Band-Aid. Had she been burned, Meredith would have smoothed on soothing aloe vera and covered the wound with a clean bandage. But Meredith had no idea how to ease the soul sickness inside Emily. She had no idea how to fix the young woman’s broken, spiritless heart.
As Meredith once again gazed out at the house, her heart pumped an unsteady rhythm. Almost home. Within moments they would be parked before the big elegant home and the past would meet the present. Within moments she would know if she truly had a loving, caring husband or if she’d idealized him in her dreams and fantasies.
The patrol cars turned into the circular driveway and the tension inside Meredith peaked so high she wanted to scream. It had been the vision of strong arms around her, holding her close, that had kept her going through these lost, lonely years. It had been dreams of a large hand holding hers, of a solid body pulling her close, that had made her fight to reclaim her past.
Had those dreams and visions been of Joe? Why, oh why, couldn’t she remember his face? Why, if their love had been so good, so strong, had her mind erased his features from her memory?
The cars parked in front of the house and Rand turned around in the seat to face her. “It’s going to be all right, Mom.” His handsome face shone with fierce determination. “You wait here. Let me and the detective talk to Patsy first.”
Meredith nodded and watched as Rand, Thad Law and two officers approached the front door. Once again Emily reached for Meredith’s hand, as if needing the lifeline only a mother could offer.
“It’s going to be all right now,” Meredith said to Emily. “Nobody is ever going to try to hurt you again.” A fierce love welled up inside her, first for the child Emily had been, a child who had tried to tell everyone something wasn’t right with her “mother,” and for the woman she’d become, who had three times faced a killer because she refused to believe that Patsy was Meredith.
Meredith wrapped her arms around Emily and kissed her forehead. “Everything is all right now, Emily.”
Emily’s eyes welled up with tears. “Then why do I feel like nothing is ever going to be right again for my entire life?”
Meredith’s heart cried for Emily’s pain. She stroked her hair, kissed her forehead again, then released her and stared at the house, where Rand and the officers were at the front door.
Meredith’s breath caught in her throat as Patsy stepped out the front door. Even though she’d known Patsy had usurped her identity, had stolen her life, seeing her twin sister step out her front door was like being slapped soundly across the face.
Dressed in a beige Chanel pantsuit with a colorful scarf at her neck, Patsy looked every inch the lady of the manor.
Although the two women were identical twins, there were now subtle differences between the two. Patsy’s hair was slightly longer and blonder than Meredith’s, showing the effects of expensive salon care. Even from the distance that separated the two, Meredith could see the bloodred polish of Patsy’s long nails, so unlike Meredith’s short, unpolished ones.
Myriad emotions raced through Meredith. Anger, swift and self-righteous, was tempered with pity for the troubled sister who would resort to such horrific measures.
“Would somebody please tell me what is going on here?” Patsy’s strident voice rose in the air.
Meredith opene
d the car door and stepped out, her gaze focused on the sister who had betrayed her so completely. “Patsy,” she called softly.
Patsy turned her head and her eyes widened as she saw Meredith. The flare of her eyes was there only a moment, then gone. “Oh, you found her. You found Patsy!” she exclaimed.
“It’s over, Patsy,” Meredith said as she approached her twin sister. “It’s over. I remember everything. I remember the car accident that you caused so you could steal my life. How could you do something like this? How could you?”
A high-pitched burst of laughter escaped Patsy and she gazed first at Thad, then at the officers. “Poor dear. She’s always had mental problems. Did you know she spent time in prison?” Patsy’s voice held just the slightest tremor of nerves.
Meredith heard a car door slam and realized Emily must be approaching them. Patsy’s gaze swept past Meredith to the young woman.
“Emily! Darling, I’ve been so worried about you,” Patsy exclaimed.
“You tried to have me killed,” Emily cried as she came to stand next to Meredith. “You sent that awful man after me and he killed Toby.”
“Emily, you’re overwrought and not making sense. Why on earth would I want to have you killed?” Patsy’s voice was soft and on the surface sounded full of love. But Meredith heard the underlying tension.
“You want me dead because I know the truth,” Emily exclaimed as tears coursed down her cheeks. “You want me dead because I know you aren’t my mother.” She grabbed Meredith’s arm. “This is my mother. This is the real Meredith.”
Again Patsy looked at Thad and the officers, her eyes holding a tinge of panic. “Gentlemen, I really don’t understand what’s going on here, but this woman is my sister, Patsy Portman. She suffers from mental illness and she has obviously twisted poor Emily’s fragile brain.”
“Cut the crap,” Rand said roughly. He looked at Thad. “I want her arrested.”
At that moment Joe stepped out the front door, a bewildered frown on his face. “What’s going on?” His gaze fell on Meredith and he froze.
Pregnant In Prosperino Page 16