by Brenda Novak
“You’re a fool,” he said angrily, and stalked out.
Lydia stared after him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
YOU’RE A FOOL. Parker’s words echoed in his head long after he’d left Lydia’s office. He’d never spoken to her like that before and felt bad for doing so, even though he was still upset. Probably because he considered himself much more of a fool. He’d been the one to start everything. He’d made a life-altering decision ten years ago, and now the consequences of that decision were coming home to roost.
What, did he think he could steal a woman’s child and get away with it forever?
Resting his head on the back of his chair, he closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them to gaze up at the ceiling. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t let Hope waltz into his life at this late date, couldn’t let her brush elbows with Dalton and run the risk that she might one day recognize the truth.
Standing, he locked his office door—something he rarely did—then sat down again. Maybe he was making too much of this. Maybe Hope wasn’t what she appeared to be. If she wasn’t, if there was some reason she wouldn’t have been a good mother to Dalton, he’d be off the hook, right? He’d have something to fight for, a reason to feel good about what he’d done and what he was doing. He certainly wasn’t going to condemn himself for separating Dalton from a woman who wouldn’t have been able to provide a good life for him.
Feeling a quick infusion of hopeful energy, he picked up the phone and dialed the number for Valley View Hospital in St. George, which was listed on Hope’s resumé. A moment later he was speaking to a woman named Sandra Cleary.
“Who are you?” Sandra said, sounding a bit cautious.
When Parker identified himself again and explained a little bit about The Birth Place, she relaxed considerably. “I’m calling regarding Hope Tanner,” he said. “She’s applied for a job with us and has you listed as a reference.”
“Oh, of course. I hadn’t realized she’d moved so far away.”
Parker asked a couple of routine questions about the hospital in general and how long Hope had worked there. Then he went for the information he was most interested in knowing.
“So, what kind of woman would you say Hope Tanner is?” he asked.
To his chagrin, Ms. Cleary didn’t even hesitate. “She’s a wonderful person. I’ve known Hope for years. She can be somewhat withdrawn at times, but she’s a hard worker. She’s knowledgeable, reliable, honest and caring, all of which are prerequisites in this field, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.” He doodled on the yellow pad in front of him, wondering how to reach a little deeper. “And…let’s see,” he said as though reading from a form. “Does she have a stable personal life?”
“Personal life?”
“I know you might find that question a bit unusual,” he explained, “but we’re a tight-knit group and definitely need someone who doesn’t let his or her personal life interfere with work.”
“Oh, Hope would never do that,” she said. “She never seemed to have much of a personal life, for one thing.”
“Why do you think that is?” he asked.
“I can’t say for sure. It certainly isn’t because she’s odd or difficult to get along with. She’s just a bit aloof, a little hard to know.”
“She must have a few bad habits,” he said, hoping Ms. Cleary would elaborate. But again, he was disappointed by her response.
“Not that I know of.”
“No drug or alcohol abuse? Anger-management problems? Difficulty remaining solvent?”
“Definitely not. Hope and I have gone out for a drink on occasion, but I’ve never seen her have more than a single glass of wine. To my knowledge she’s never taken drugs, and…What else did you ask?”
“Never mind,” he said. Instead of making him feel better, this call was making him feel significantly worse.
“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about hiring her,” she volunteered. “She’s one of the finest people I know.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, barely able to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I hope the information helps.”
Parker swallowed a sigh. “You have no idea,” he said, then he hung up and dropped his head into the palm of one hand. Just what he wanted to hear: Hope Tanner was a freakin’ saint.
* * *
“I HATE HIM,” Hope said.
“Who?” Faith asked, once again sitting across the table from her at the Sunflower Café.
Hope pushed aside the sprouts that had fallen out of her cucumber-and-tomato sandwich. “Parker Reynolds.”
“That handsome guy we saw in here before? What brought him up?”
Hope had been thinking about Parker ever since she’d left the birthing center forty-five minutes earlier. “He was there when Lydia gave me the job.”
“So? What’d he do that upset you?”
Hope couldn’t really say. She couldn’t point to some specific comment or action, because what he’d done had been so subtle. He’d once been her friend and yet, now that she was back, he would scarcely speak to her. When he saw her, he scowled as though he’d sooner see a cockroach. Obviously he was unhappy that she’d be joining the staff at the center.
“Nothing,” she said, stirring the ice in her cup with her straw. She hated to admit she was upset because he didn’t like her anymore. She didn’t want to believe he could affect her so deeply.
“Then eat.” Faith paused to take a sip of her drink. “You got the job you wanted. This is supposed to be a celebration, right?”
Hope fixed her with a steady gaze. “I’ll celebrate when you get your hair cut and styled.”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Hope. Would it really mean that much to you?”
Hope shrugged. “There’s not much point in dealing with the clothing issue until after the baby. But we could get started with your hair.”
Fortunately, no one as far east as Enchantment was likely to recognize Faith for what she was—what she’d been, Hope corrected—so that was no longer much of a concern. Though there were pockets of polygamists all over the Western United States, even in parts of Canada and Mexico, nowhere were they more common or visible than in the state of Utah. To the people of New Mexico, Hope knew Faith simply looked old-fashioned and very plain. But it bothered her that every time she saw her sister, she was reminded of Arvin and Bonner and poor Oscar.
“I thought you wanted to shop for a crib,” Faith said.
“Yes, but we’ve got the rest of the afternoon and nothing else to do. I think we can handle both.” Hope fiddled with the ends of her own hair. Maybe it was time she changed styles, too. Maybe she should go really short, go for something sexy…
A thrill ran through her at the prospect of looking anything close to sexy, which surprised her almost as much as considering such a radical change in the first place. Her whole life, she’d gone to great lengths to be as plain and unnoticeable as possible. Why did her heart race at the thought of being more attractive now?
Instantly, she conjured up Parker Reynold’s face in her mind.
Not for him, she decided. He’d become insufferable.
On the other hand, she didn’t think it could hurt to start work next week feeling like a new woman—a bold, confident, attractive woman. She’d show Parker that she didn’t need his friendship. And that she was as modern as any woman he’d met…
“Come on,” she said, dumping the rest of her sandwich in the garbage, along with her plastic cup. “I’ll get mine done, too.”
“But…”
Hope propped her hands on her hips.
“Never mind,” Faith grumbled, and followed her out.
* * *
“OMIGOSH! I LOOK SO…different,” Faith said, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror.
Hope was standing behind her, watching her reaction. She thought Faith looked great—very fresh and
appealing. Her sandy-colored hair feathered about her face in layers, giving her the same kind of trendy, fashionable appearance as the teenage girls Hope used to see at the mall in St. George.
It felt good to see her sister looking more like a normal girl than a haggard, middle-aged housewife. “Don’t you like it?” she asked.
Faith scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know. It makes me look really young.”
“You’re only eighteen.”
“I don’t feel that young.”
Hope couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt young, either. “Maybe we were born old. But we don’t have to look it. I think it’s a definite improvement,” she said, but she wasn’t so sure about her own short cut.
“You have beautiful eyes, very striking,” the stylist had said before she started. “You’re right to go short. It’ll give you more dramatic impact.”
Hope had been looking for sexy, but in that moment, dramatic had sounded pretty close. “If you think it’ll look good,” she’d said, and the stylist had smiled eagerly and whipped out her scissors.
“Oh, it’s going to look good. Just wait until I’m finished with you.”
And now she was finished.
“At least you didn’t let her cut off as much as I did,” Hope said.
Faith’s eyes shifted to Hope’s reflection. “I thought you were making a mistake when you did that, but now—” she cocked her head to one side “—now I think that stylist knew what she was talking about.”
Hope gnawed on her lower lip as she weighed the changes. “It’s not too bad, I guess.”
“It’s not bad at all. It makes you look…sophisticated.”
Sophisticated was better than plain. Anything was better than plain. “At any rate, I’m not going to worry about it. It’ll grow.” She shrugged and turned away from the mirror. “Come on. I need help getting the crib out of the back seat. It might take us until the baby’s born to figure out how to put the darn thing together.”
“Are we still going to Taos tomorrow to buy fabric?” Faith asked as they headed down the hall.
“Since you wouldn’t let me buy that darling baby quilt they had at Child’s Play, we’ll have to.” Hope held the wooden screen door so it wouldn’t hit her sister, and smiled as the scent of green growing things and rich earth immediately greeted her. They’d been right to come here, she decided. They could start over here. Eventually forget.
“That stuff was way too expensive,” Faith said.
Hope walked across the wide, sloping lawn, which was a little too shaded to grow much grass. “The shops here prey on tourists. But it was so darling with all those little rocking horses….”
“I’d rather make my baby’s blanket.”
Hope could certainly understand that sentiment. Her fingers itched to sew, cross-stitch, paint, something. She’d spent the past ten years making a home for herself, devoting her off-hours to improving it. Now that her belongings were all packed away in storage, she was completely out of her element. Quilting for the baby might help them both.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she said. “Maybe after we visit the fabric store, we can find some good garage sales in Taos where we can…”
Her words fell away as two young girls riding bicycles passed by on the road. One was blond and had her hair pulled into a ponytail. The other was a brunette with long dark curls hanging in tangles about her face. They were around Autumn’s age.
Hope could hear the high lilt of their voices as they talked and laughed together, and the sound brought back her dream of the night before…
Mommy! Mommy!
Hope’s stomach lurched as she recognized her daughter’s voice. She began searching what appeared to be a park, frantically looking, running everywhere until, finally, she found her dark-haired child on the swings. One hand tightly gripped the chain as her legs moved, pumping ever higher. The other hand waved to Hope. “Over here, Mommy! I’m over here!”
With a sense of awe, Hope hurried over to find that her child was a mirror image of herself. From a distance, Autumn seemed happy and loved. But as Hope drew closer, she could see that the pretty little girl who’d just called her Mommy was dirty and unkempt. Her hair was matted to her head, her dress torn. And she was so thin, too thin…
Obviously, her child wasn’t being cared for as she’d always trusted. Autumn could have been living on the streets for the filth covering her spindly arms and legs.
An incredible anger surged through Hope, anger at whoever had neglected Autumn, and anger at herself for allowing others to raise her child. Yet there was relief, too, to think she’d found Autumn at last. Maybe they could put the past behind them. Autumn obviously needed her.
“Don’t worry, Autumn,” she called. “Mommy’s here now. I’ll take care of you, baby. You’ll have everything you need from now on.”
But Autumn just smiled in a mysterious way and wouldn’t stop swinging. Hope stood at the base of the set of swings, pleading with her, but she just kept pumping and humming softly to herself—
“Hope? What is it?” Faith shook her shoulder, and Hope blinked to find her sister staring at her in concern.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” she said, but it wasn’t true. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she felt the most overwhelming helplessness she’d ever known.
Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, Faith glanced at the girls on bicycles. “Was it those children? Did they say something to you?”
“No.” Mentally shaking herself, Hope started toward the car again. She wouldn’t let a dream bother her. A dream was just a dream; it wasn’t real. Not like Arvin.
But the emotions behind that dream were real enough. And so were the doubts.
Please, keep her safe, she prayed.
* * *
PARKER WONDERED how he was going to get through the days now that he was working with Hope Tanner. It would’ve been bad enough having her come in periodically for Faith’s prenatal checkups. But day-to-day contact was infinitely worse. It had been almost a week, yet every time he heard her or saw her pass his open door, he found himself clenching his jaw. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want her anywhere near Enchantment—or Dalton.
“Mrs. Wilson, would you come with me?”
Hope’s voice reached him again, and he got up and closed his door. As administrator, he handled the correspondence, arranged fund-raisers and private tours of their facility, okayed most expenditures, approved orders for supplies and negotiated new deals with vendors—amid myriad other tasks—and was rarely distracted. But he couldn’t concentrate today.
“Do you miss Mom?” Dalton had wanted to know while Parker was helping him with his homework last night.
The question had caught Parker off guard. He still missed Vanessa in a vague sort of way, but it wasn’t anything acute. “Not so much anymore,” he’d said.
“That’s good. I don’t want you to be sad. All that talk about crying last week…” He made a face.
“It didn’t have anything to do with your mom, okay?”
Parker had considered telling Dalton, right then and there, that he was adopted. He’d always wondered if the truth wouldn’t be best. But Vanessa hadn’t wanted him to say anything. She’d feared that knowledge of the adoption would destroy Dalton’s self-esteem. Parker had gone along with her wishes, mostly because Dalton was too young to understand. Then when she died and Dalton grew older, there just hadn’t been a good time to explain that he’d actually been born to someone else.
Now that he’d waited so long, Parker found himself in one heck of a pickle. At ten, Dalton was definitely old enough to understand his situation, but Parker doubted he’d look very kindly on the fact that his father and grandparents had let him live a lie for so long.
It was better not to say anything, he decided, coming to the same conclusion he reached every time he considered the situation. Especially in light of Hope’s reappearance. He just needed to sit tight and wait for Faith to have her baby. Then maybe
the two Tanner sisters would leave Enchantment, and he could deal with breaking the news—or not—to Dalton.
A light rap sounded on his door, interrupting his thoughts. “Mr. Reynolds?” The voice was soft, indistinct.
Mr. Reynolds? No one called him that at the center. “Come in.”
Hope stuck her head through the opening, and Parker immediately felt a muscle begin to twitch in his cheek. “Yes?”
“Lydia asked me to see if you’re ready for the staff meeting.”
The staff meeting. He’d completely forgotten. Trish had scheduled it for the noon hour. They were ordering goat-cheese-and-veggie pizza and gathering in the waiting room.
He glanced at the work spread out on his desk—work he should’ve completed hours ago—and bit back a frustrated sigh. It was Hope’s fault he couldn’t concentrate. It was her fault he felt so damn guilty. And it was her fault his life could go down the toilet at any moment.
He jammed a hand through his hair. Okay, actually that last part was his fault. But at least the risk of having his life destroyed would be minimal if she wasn’t around.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he muttered, but she didn’t leave it at that. She slipped inside, closed the door behind her and came to stand in front of his desk.
“I said I’ll be there,” he repeated, letting irritation mask his discomfort at having her so close.
“I know what you said,” she replied, “but I think we should talk before the animosity between us gets any worse.”
He stood and began shoving papers around as though he knew what he was doing. “What animosity?”
“Are you kidding? You don’t like that I’m here, and I want to know why. I haven’t done anything except return to a place I remember fondly. What’s wrong with that? Surely Enchantment is big enough for both of us.”
He didn’t want to look at her. Partly because she was so damn appealing, especially with that new haircut, and he didn’t want to find Hope Tanner appealing. And partly because she was calling him on something he’d rather not face. He was being unfair. But the biggest irony of all was that he didn’t dislike her—he disliked what he’d done to her and what that meant she could do to him.