by Brenda Novak
“There’s no problem between us,” he said, but even that statement came out sounding terse.
“I thought we were friends when I left here.”
“We barely knew each other.” To admit to anything beyond that would make what he’d done ten years ago that much more reprehensible.
“Okay.” She turned her palms up. “For whatever reason, you don’t want to be my friend. I can live with that. But I’d like us to be comfortable around each other. Is that asking too much?”
He flipped through a folder on his desk.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“I told you, we don’t have a problem. There’s no reason you should feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not the one who’s uncomfortable.”
“What makes you think I’m uncomfortable?”
“You mean besides the fact that you scowl every time you see me? Or turn away?”
He glanced up and couldn’t help noticing how much healthier she looked than when she’d left Enchantment. No longer a pale, skinny girl, this Hope had skin that glowed and curves in all the right places. She also had an impressive amount of confidence in her bearing, considering everything she’d been through.
Parker suddenly found himself softening. She seemed so earnest about making peace that he couldn’t refuse her.
He didn’t have to become her friend, he told himself. He only had to treat her with the same courtesy he’d treat any other co-worker.
He just wished it didn’t feel so…hypocritical.
“There you go, scowling again,” she said.
“Sorry.” He quickly cleared his face. “You’re right.”
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You’re right. I’ve been a jerk.”
A slight hesitation. “That’s it?”
“Isn’t that progress?”
“Well…” She looked over her shoulder at the closed door, as if she thought she had the wrong office. “Sort of, I guess. You could explain to me why you’ve been a jerk.”
He gestured at the chaos on his desk. “Job stress?”
She gave him a smile that revealed dimples, and he couldn’t help smiling back. She looked so much like Dalton. Though he doubted anyone else would ever notice, he saw it in the little things—the wide brow, the heart-shaped upper lip, the occasional expression in the eyes.
“Now that’s the Parker Reynolds I remember. Hold that thought,” she said, and walked out.
* * *
GOD, NOW THEY WERE friends.
As he watched her leave, Parker told himself he only had to treat her kindly, but he hadn’t taken her sexy smile into account. Or the fact that he and Hope could so easily return to the natural friendly relationship they’d known ten years ago. He’d apologized and, just like that, they were back where they’d been before.
Which made him the worst kind of snake. Ten years ago he’d abused Hope’s trust while pretending to be her friend. Now he was doing pretty much the same thing all over again.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing she hadn’t placed him in this situation. Why couldn’t she just—
“Parker?” Lydia stuck her head in his office. “Are you coming or not?”
“Why did you let her come to work here?” he snapped.
She studied him for a moment. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then you need to forget who she is and just go on with your life. It’ll be much simpler that way.”
“Are you joking?”
“Of course not.”
“And when Dalton comes to the center?”
“You’ll introduce him as your son.”
Parker rounded his desk, closing the gap between them and lowered his voice. “You don’t feel a little bad about that?”
“I feel terrible about the whole thing.” She lifted her chin in that imperious way she had, forever the proud, arrogant woman who’d hired him nearly twelve years ago. “Would you rather we told her the truth?”
“God, no.”
“Then what choice do we have?”
“We could lay her off, tell her we aren’t going to be as busy as you anticipated. If she can’t find work, she and Faith will be forced to move on.”
“And you think that’s kinder?” Lydia said, obviously appalled.
Parker felt buried by another avalanche of guilt. Of course it wasn’t kinder. But it would mean he wouldn’t have to face her nearly every day.
“As calm and controlled as she appears to be on the outside, she’s been through more than we know,” Lydia continued. “Are you going to make what we did even worse by refusing her?”
Parker sighed in resignation. “Not now, I guess.”
“Good,” she said, and turned on her heel.
Good? They couldn’t tell Hope the truth and they couldn’t send her away. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place.
With a curse, he followed Lydia to the meeting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BEFORE THE STAFF MEETING actually began, Trish introduced Hope to almost everyone who worked at the center. Kim Sherman, the petite blond accountant, appeared to be in her mid-twenties—yet she seemed to hold herself apart from the others. Katherine Collins and Heidi Brandt, both full-time midwives, had been at the clinic when Hope delivered her baby. Dressed similarly in Birkenstock sandals, cap-sleeved T-shirts and flowing skirts, they’d obviously grown close over the years. They both welcomed her warmly.
The small, red-haired Gina Vaughn was new. Hope had already met her. Dawn Mitchell, the center’s overflow midwife, had started nearly five years ago. She typically worked out of her house, Hope was told, so she’d come in specifically for the meeting. Tall and willowy, she was a mother of five who seemed, from her tight-fitting jeans and Western-style denim shirt, to be more conventional than her earthy, free-spirited counterparts. And Lenora Hernandez, a short, rather plump Hispanic woman, was the only nurse.
Hope was struck by how unpretentious and genuine everyone seemed. She was excited to be working with them—even Parker Reynolds. He stood off to one side, leaning against a wall with his arms folded, apparently brooding. But whenever she caught his eye, he made a concerted effort to smile. If it looked like more of a grimace, she wasn’t going to worry about it. He’d apologized for his unfriendly manner; she’d accepted his apology and would go from there.
“Can we get started?” Lydia asked. She’d turned off the television and positioned herself next to the fireplace insert. Everyone else stood at the back, lounged on the chairs and couches or sat on the floor. “I know we all have work to do and appointments this afternoon, so go ahead and eat. I just want to discuss a few things while you have your lunch.”
Lenora gently nudged Hope with a pizza box. Putting a slice on one of the paper plates that had circulated a few minutes earlier, Hope breathed in the delicious aromas and passed the pizza to Gina Vaughn, who stood to her right. Then they both settled on the floor.
“First, I hope you’ve all had a chance to meet our latest addition, Hope Tanner,” Lydia said. “Hope, raise your hand.”
Hope felt a moment’s panic as all eyes turned her way, but she managed a small wave.
“We’re happy she’s joined the staff,” Lydia went on. “She’s an obstetrics nurse, so she brings a tremendous amount of knowledge with her. I’m sure she’ll be a great asset to us. We’ve even talked about the possibility of her becoming a certified midwife. For someone with her background, it wouldn’t be difficult. Until she decides what direction she wants to go, she’ll be assisting wherever we need her.” Lydia paused for a second. “Now, on to our agenda.”
Lenora passed Hope a lemonade, which she accepted, grateful that everyone’s attention had finally shifted away from her.
“First of all, I want to make sure we’re spending enough time with our mothers. I know I’m a bit of a stickler on this issue, but I don’t want anyone who comes here to feel as though we’re simply herding her thro
ugh a process that should be a beautiful and memorable experience. You need to ask yourselves—are you taking time to speak to your clients, and to really listen when they answer?”
Katherine Collins raised her hand.
“Katherine?”
“I’ve started doing something new. I record an interview with my ladies when they come in for their first visit,” she said. “I ask them for their favorite books, music and movies. We talk about parenting and what an ideal birth means to them. We even go into their background and family, if they’re open to talking about that sort of stuff. It really helps me get in touch with them, you know? After they leave, I listen to the tape again and jot down the information in my binder.”
“I do the same thing,” Heidi said. “But I give my clients a crystal I’ve picked out especially for them, one that holds a personal value for me, so they know they’re important to me. It really forges a bond between us.”
“Is every mother really interested in becoming that close to her midwife?” Dawn asked, her voice slightly impatient. “I mean, I believe in being friendly and supportive, but I don’t have time to become everyone’s best friend. I have a family of my own to raise, and my ladies have lives of their own, too.”
A discussion immediately ensued, weighing the pros and cons of establishing close, personal relationships with each client. Gina Vaughn and Lenora Hernandez seemed very interested in what was being said. Hope was, too. It was certainly a different approach from that at the hospital, which focused more on professionalism and meeting a mother’s physical needs than nurturing her emotionally.
Curious about how Parker Reynolds was taking all this, Hope shot a glance his way, and found him staring right at her.
He shifted his gaze to Lydia the moment their eyes met, but he didn’t look as though he was even following the conversation, let alone forming any opinions on it. Probably he ignored this kind of thing, Hope decided.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Lydia was saying. “We’re going to have to move on. I won’t tell you how to relate to your clients. You do what works for you, but be mindful of taking the proper amount of time and making the experience an enriching one.” She double-checked the agenda Trish had passed out before the meeting. “Now, let’s go over the procedures we should follow when a midwife feels a mother would be better served by a transfer to the Arroyo County Hospital….”
The meeting lasted about an hour. Hope was just getting a little restless, wanting a free minute to call and check on Faith, when Lydia waved Parker to the front.
“As you know, we’ve got our fund-raiser for SIDS research coming up,” she said as he stepped through those sitting on the floor. “I’ve asked Parker to give us an update on how it’s going, because I’m sure he can use our help on the promotion end.”
Parker’s eyes flicked over Hope before focusing on those closer to him. “We’re planning to host another walk-a-thon, since that worked so well last year,” he said. “But it’s a campaign year, so my father-in-law is busy raising money for his own purposes and won’t be able to help us. And we’ve lost our corporate sponsor. Without Congressman Barlow and Flying Diamond Oil Company, we’re going to get stuck with a big advertising bill, not to mention some of the other promotional expenses. So what I need is for everyone to contact their friends, family and acquaintances to see if we can find a replacement. Last year we raised over $20,000 for SIDS research with this event. I’d like to surpass that this year. But if we have to start cutting corners, we might end up in the hole.”
“What type of sponsor are we looking for?” Gina asked.
“Anyone willing to make a sizable donation in return for being listed on our promotion materials.”
“What about gathering donations for the prizes, to entice more people to join the walk-a-thon?” Heidi asked. “Would that help?”
“We can always use more prizes.”
“Those camping, fishing and backpacking adventures Rusty Nunes offered last year were great,” she said.
“They were.” Despite the discussion, Parker seemed preoccupied. “Rusty’s just had major knee surgery, though, and can’t participate this year,” she said. “But you’ve got the right idea. Things that appeal to the tourists generally work best.”
“Maybe we can get Red River Adventures to offer a free mountain bike as a drawing prize,” Katherine said.
“What we need more than prize items is cash donors,” Parker told them.
“Are you still going to Taos to see if you can drum up support, Parker?” Lydia asked. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“I’ve already set several appointments with potential companies. But time is so short I need someone to help me fill them,” he said.
“Do we have any volunteers?” Lydia asked.
“I’d like to help,” Katherine murmured, “but Roger would kill me if I took on anything else right now. It’s too hard to make arrangements for the kids.”
“I’d go, but one of my mothers is overdue,” Heidi said. She and Katherine looked around, as though planning to handpick someone else, but the shy Trish quickly ducked her head and Lenora seemed to speak for both of them when she said, “Oh, no, I’m no good at such things.”
Soon everyone was staring at Hope, and Hope knew they were thinking she was the perfect candidate. She had the time to go and no one depending on her except Faith. And she had been hired to help Parker with any special projects. Unless Hope missed her guess, this was a special project.
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend an entire day alone with Parker Reynolds. And she wasn’t much of a salesperson.
“What, exactly, would it entail?” she asked.
“Parker?” Katherine prompted when he hesitated.
“We’d need to spend one, maybe two days in Taos,” he said.
“Together?”
“Why drive separately?” Katherine said.
“Um…” Hope opened her mouth to refuse, but the weight of everyone’s expectations made her hesitate. Lydia had been so good to her, and she wanted to be of some value to the center. Surely she could help out with the fund-raiser. One day with Parker couldn’t be that big a deal. “I’ll do it,” she said.
Lydia and Parker exchanged a quick glance. “But you’ve barely arrived,” Lydia said. “And Faith’s getting close to the end of her term—”
“I don’t think she’s going to have the baby in the next week or so.” Hope refused to look at Parker. She didn’t want to see his reaction. “And Taos is only an hour away. It won’t be a problem.”
Silence ensued until a confused-sounding Heidi spoke up. “That’s great, isn’t it? Thanks, Hope. I’m sure Parker’s grateful for the help.”
If Parker was grateful, he didn’t say so. Heidi, obviously catching the omission, hurried on. “This fund-raiser means a lot to all of us. It’s our local contribution to worthy causes for the year.”
“When do we go?” Hope asked.
“We’ll talk about it,” Parker said abruptly.
“Okay, that’s it,” Lydia said. “Trish, why don’t you put the music back on and we’ll all get to work.”
Hope sat still as the room emptied. She’d just volunteered for a job that would essentially mean she’d be trying to talk various companies into donating thousands of dollars to a charity they might or might not care about, for some advertising value that was difficult to quantify. Fund-raising wasn’t something she’d ever pictured herself doing, and certainly not with Parker Reynolds.
She thought of telling him privately that it wasn’t going to work out. Considering his lackluster reaction, she doubted he’d mind. But the way he stomped off gave her little opportunity to tell him anything and incited the stubborn streak she’d inherited from her father. She was going to accompany him for the good of the clinic, she told herself—and to show him that he had no reason in the world to dislike her.
* * *
THE SMELL OF CARROTS, potatoes, onions and some kind of meat greeted Hope the mom
ent she opened the door to the cabin. She drew close to the fire Faith had built in the stove, enjoying its warmth. Even though it wasn’t really cold enough for a fire, the crackle and flicker added to the homey ambiance, and she knew it would chase away the chill after the sun went down.
“Smells great in here. What’s for dinner?” she asked.
“Just a meat loaf and some vegetables.” Faith was bent over the fabric she had spread out on the kitchen table. “How was work?”
Hope thought about her commitment to help with the fund-raiser and frowned as she put her purse on the counter. “I’ve had better days. What about you?”
“It’s been quiet around here, but I’ve made some real progress on the quilt.” She snatched up several pieces of fabric she’d cut into various shapes for the old-fashioned baby quilt she was making and held them up.
The fact that Faith had been so happily occupied all day would normally have lightened Hope’s mood. But she was still thinking about Parker Reynolds. “Any contractions or anything?”
“None.”
She walked over to the answering machine she’d bought while they were shopping in Taos and pressed the message button, even though the light wasn’t blinking. “No new messages,” it said in its odd mechanical voice. She knew they weren’t likely to get any messages, either, but old habits were hard to break. She remembered Jeff, the nurses with whom she’d worked and her neighbors in St. George. She hadn’t exactly been close to any of them, but they’d all called her on occasion. Now she felt a sudden sense of loss.
Had she made the right choice in leaving everything she’d built over the past ten years? Was Arvin bluffing? Or was he truly dangerous?
She would have been stupid to take the chance.
“Were you expecting someone to call?” Faith asked, her scissors cutting smoothly through the fabric.
“No. No one has our number, except the people at the birthing center. I was just making sure this thing works. When you buy used electronics, you never know.”
Fortunately, Hope didn’t have to worry about Faith calling home again. The Loreys had canceled the long-distance service to the cabin to avoid any potential abuse by renters, and Hope had no plan to reinstate it.