Sanctuary

by Brenda Novak

  “Patient, self-sacrificing. Probably too self-sacrificing. If any of us needed anything while we were kids, she’d give up whatever she had to please us, but she never had much. I always wished my father would treat her better.”

  “Was he abusive?”

  “Most of the time not physically.” She thought of the night he’d learned she was pregnant and tried not to wince. He’d been abusive that night, but then, he’d never had any of his children rebel the way she had. “He’d just put her down, call her an idiot, things like that,” she said.

  “Did he treat his other wives the same way?”

  “He treated some better than others.”

  “Did he spend much time with you?”

  “No, nor my mother, either. But he’d occasionally appear for dinner or for a conjugal visit.”

  “Was your mother pleased when he turned up?”

  Hope bit her bottom lip, remembering. “She never said anything, but I always got the impression she wasn’t. When he came over, she only had to work harder, and she was already working from dawn until dark.”

  “Why’d she have to work extra-hard whenever he showed up?”

  “Having him visit was like having company. The house had to be spotless, the meal perfect. In Superior, so much of a woman’s worth is based on her piousness and her ability to cook, clean and bear children.”

  “You must be a good cook.”

  She shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess.”

  “Didn’t your father help out with anything?”

  “Jedidiah? Are you serious?” Hope would have straightened so she could see Parker’s face, but she was too comfortable to move. “Housework was beneath him. He never did anything except lecture us about our faults and weaknesses and warn us against the temptations of the devil. My earliest recollection is of him reading the Bible, his voice thunderous, like one of those televangelists promising fiery punishment for the wicked.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Four or five.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you missed your father when he wasn’t around.”

  “I didn’t. I was terrified of him.”

  “Was your mother afraid of him, too?”

  “She was more afraid of herself, of finally reaching the point where she couldn’t put up with any more. Her battle seemed to be a private one and had very little to do with my father, except she believed that going against his word was like going against God Himself.”

  “I can’t imagine that kind of life,” Parker said. “Who took care of the cars and the yard and the stuff that husbands and fathers traditionally take care of?”

  “Occasionally, when something around the house needed fixing, my mom asked for my father’s help and he sent over one of my stepbrothers with a hammer or a screwdriver. But my father had no time for anything too domestic.” She covered a yawn. “Heading such a large family is a lot like running a small company. Just trying to stifle the infighting and keep every son or daughter living by the strict tenets of the church absorbs a great deal of energy. Remember, my father has to juggle the demands of six wives, perform hours and hours of church service each week and work a full-time job.”

  “What’s his job?”

  “He manages the sand-and-gravel pit my grandfather deeded to the church before I was born.”

  “And that makes enough to support such a large family?”

  “No. Church members share everything. The men work and contribute whatever they make to the church. Then the church grants each family so much money each month on which to live. The church owns all the property, too. The Brethren lend different homes to different members when they marry, or when a household gets too large for everyone to continue living together. There’s even a sign in front of each lot or house that says, ‘This Everlasting A postolic Property entrusted to Gilbert James Johnson’ or whomever.”

  Parker lay silent for several seconds. Hope wondered if he was falling asleep and felt her own eyelids grow heavy again. He was so solid and warm that she didn’t fear anything right now, not even dreams.

  “Why do they do it?” he asked at length, letting her know he wasn’t asleep, after all.

  Hope considered her answer. There wasn’t a simple explanation. How did any cult flourish? How did Jim Jones talk so many people into killing themselves? “I think people like belonging to something, especially something that designates them as special or elite. I think they feel better about themselves if they sacrifice for what they consider a good cause. And I think the idea of going to a better place after this life appeals to them.” She paused. “It’s probably a combination of motivations, I would guess.”

  “I’m sure some of the men’s motivation is a lot baser than all that psychological mumbo jumbo.”

  “You’re talking about sex.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “For some, maybe. For my father, sex didn’t seem to be a big part of things. He slept with my mother occasionally, but not often.”

  “Obviously he was getting what he wanted other places. Didn’t your mother ever get lonely for a real companion, a partner, a lover?”

  “She probably did, but I think she learned how to fulfill her emotional needs through her friends and her children. Having to give my father sex only meant she’d get less time to herself that evening or none at all.”

  “That’s quite an attitude. Is that how you look at sex? As some sort of household chore?”

  The tingling in Hope’s stomach returned. She could smell the fabric softener on his T-shirt, and the muscular chest beneath her hand suddenly seemed far more tempting than any man’s body had been to her since Bonner. “I don’t look at sex the way my mother does. I know it’s different if you’re with someone you love.”

  He played with a strand of her hair. “And how do you know that? Bonner?”

  She nodded.

  “You haven’t loved anyone since?”

  “Are you asking me if I’ve made love? Or been in love?”

  “Both.”

  “I’ve made love to three other men. I felt nothing.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’ll never feel anything.”

  “Maybe not, but two of those were men I’d dated for several months. One had asked me to marry him. I should’ve felt something.”

  “And the third?”

  “The third was definitely a mistake. He was just a guy I picked up, wishing I could make myself connect with someone. Of course it didn’t work. That time was the worst, except I didn’t have to feel any guilt for disappointing him.”

  Turning slightly, he lifted her chin and rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The tingle in her belly became something hot and liquid and seemed to swirl through her whole system. “I think you’re wrong about your limitations.”

  “I don’t,” she said, but she was already experiencing more desire than she’d known in ten years.

  “Maybe we should perform a little experiment.” Bending closer, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her gently at first, and then with mounting pressure when she offered no resistance. By the time his tongue delved into her mouth, Hope was definitely ready to deepen the kiss.

  She slipped her arms around his neck, angling her head, and for the first time in eleven years, felt a semblance of what she’d known in the barn with Bonner. Somehow the idea of allowing a man complete access to her body was exciting again, heady. She needed to feel vibrant and young and free, to cut herself loose for once from all the baggage she’d been carrying around. And Parker seemed to promise it all with only one kiss.

  But then he broke away and got out of bed.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go. I need to get Dalton to school,” he said.

  Hope didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to leave, but she knew better than to ask him to stay.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said, but when he left, Hope felt more alone than ever before.

  * * *

  THE
SOUND OF HAMMERING woke Hope with a start. After Parker left, she’d managed to doze off again. Now the sun sat higher in the sky and she wondered who’d be knocking on her door at…seven-thirty. Faith wouldn’t have bothered knocking. She had a key. And…

  The rock. The window. Was it Arvin? Getting out of bed, she jammed her arms into her robe, slid her feet into a pair of slippers and climbed down from the loft.

  “Who is it?” she called when she reached the door.

  “It’s okay, Hope. It’s me.”

  Parker. What was he doing back?

  She unlocked the door and peeked out at him through the crack. It was obvious he hadn’t been home, because he hadn’t shaved. And his clothes were the ones he’d worn last night, so they were wrinkled. Still, he appeared fashionably unkempt, like a Calvin Klein model wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare jeans.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, opening the door a little farther and leaning against the jamb.

  “It was just kids.”

  “What?”

  “The rock. I went over to the Knowles cabin and found it occupied. There’s a family staying there who fosters troubled teens. A fourteen-year-old boy threw the rock. But from the sounds of it, he’s a bit of a pyromaniac, so we were probably lucky he only broke a window.”

  “You think he broke the window intending to set the place on fire?”

  Parker rattled his keys, as though anxious to be on his way again. “It’s possible. He didn’t have a very good excuse for being here.”

  “Did he admit to doing it?”

  “One of the other children, a girl just a year younger, ratted on him. She said she heard the breaking glass while she was trying to build a tree house in the woods and caught him near the window when she came to see what he’d done.”

  Hope shoved a self-conscious hand through her hair, sure her kind of unkempt wasn’t nearly as sexy as his. “Did he get into trouble?”

  “They put him on restriction and told him he had to work off the money to pay for the window, but they don’t look like they have much, and they’re only staying another few days. I wouldn’t hold my breath about getting reimbursed.”

  “I’ll pay for it,” Hope said. “I’m just glad it wasn’t Arvin coming to raise hell.”

  “So am I.” His gaze fell to her lips, reminding her of his kiss, and Hope felt her cheeks flush. For someone who didn’t like her, he’d given her a pretty thorough kiss. And for someone who didn’t like him, she’d given him a pretty warm welcome. She wondered what Faith would say about the whole thing—and decided not to tell her. There wasn’t any point in creating unrealistic expectations. Last night was a fluke. Nothing had changed.

  “Well, thanks for your help,” she said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “No problem.”

  “Do you want me to go back to Taos with you today?”

  “Actually—” he glanced at the truck as though it was his getaway vehicle, even took a step toward it “—I can handle it. I don’t want to put Faith out of her house another day, and I know you’d only worry about her if she was here alone. I don’t have any appointments set up, anyway. I thought I’d go into the clinic this morning, make some calls and see how many I could line up for this afternoon.”

  “Okay.” She knew they could both spend a week in Taos and not exhaust all the corporate and merchant possibilities. But after last night, she no longer felt so insulated from the world and, while it was exciting to think her heart might be thawing at long last, she realized the dangers of being vulnerable again.

  “Gotta go.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I’ll see you at work later.”

  She said goodbye and went inside. But she watched him climb into his truck and noticed that he paused to look back—and shake his head.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WHAT HAD HE BEEN thinking? Parker asked himself over and over the entire ride home. He’d kissed Hope. Kissed her. And it wasn’t the obligatory peck he’d given the other women he’d dated in the past few years. This kiss had some real intent behind it. It was of the peel-your-clothes-off-as-fast-as-possible variety.

  Thank God he’d stopped when he had. Maybe he had some scruples.

  Or maybe not. He’d peeled her clothes off in his mind several times since then. And when she was standing at the door this morning, fresh from sleep, he’d wanted to slip his hands inside her robe and caress the soft skin that lay beneath….

  Certainly that didn’t reflect well on him. But last night hadn’t been entirely his fault. He’d expected Hope to be unresponsive. He’d thought he was safe crawling into her bed to comfort her. She was a cold fish, right?

  Wrong. She had enough heat to burn herself a place in all his future fantasies. Probably because it wasn’t a wanton type of heat. It came from somewhere much deeper.

  He pulled into his driveway and cut the engine, telling himself to forget Hope. He’d been obsessed with her ever since she’d returned. He needed to get back to life as usual, and Dalton was just the person to help him do that. Duty. Routine. Fatherhood. He’d lose himself in the sweet innocence of his child, he decided—until he hit the porch and his son came out of the house yelling, “Did you sleep with her, Dad? Huh? Do you have a girlfriend now?”

  Parker glanced around to see if any of the neighbors were out and felt his face flush hot as sweet old Bea came up behind Dalton. “No,” he said. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Then where were you?”

  “Someone’s been bothering the woman you spoke to last night—”

  “Hope,” the boy supplied.

  “Right, Hope. So I stayed with her to make sure she’d be safe.”

  Dalton rolled his eyes. “Maybe I would’ve believed that a couple of years ago, Dad, but I’ve seen enough television to know how it works.”

  “What television shows are you talking about?” Parker asked.

  “Friends. Seinfeld. You name it.”

  Parker could hardly believe this was his son. “I thought girls were gross to you,” he said. “I thought you had difficulty expressing your emotions.”

  “According to who? Holt’s mother? I keep telling you not to listen to anything she says. She has—” he shook his head in frustration “—some sort of problem when it comes to me. And some girls are gross. Lisa Smith picks her nose.”

  “Thanks for the pleasant image,” Parker said. Then, hoping to keep the focus of the conversation from returning to the fact that he’d been out all night, he added, “What about that cute little Melanie Ellis?”

  Dalton scuffed one shoe against the other. “She’s okay, I guess.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Well, I’m never going to spend the night with her,” he said, grimacing as if that would be the worst kind of torture. A split second later, his face cleared. “So, do I get to meet Hope now that you’re sleeping with her? Hey, maybe I’ll get a little brother or sister!”

  The five-foot-tall, white-haired Bea fiddled with her hearing aid. “What’s that he said? You’re sleeping with someone, trying to get him a little brother or sister?”

  “No!” Parker cried.

  “Oh. Too bad. The bridge club would’ve loved that one.” She gave him a meaningful smile. “They think you’re quite a hunk.”

  It would have been a compliment, except there wasn’t a member of the group who still had twenty-twenty vision. “I appreciate that,” Parker said, “but—”

  “They’re always asking me, ‘Bea, when’s that handsome Parker Reynolds going to settle down again?’ And I tell them that your heart’s plain broke.”

  “My heart’s not broken,” he said. “It’s been eight years since—”

  “Some hearts take longer to heal than others.”

  “Bea—”

  “It’s downright romantic.”

  “There’s nothing romantic going on in my life.”

  “So when do I get to meet her, huh, Dad?” Dalton interjected. “Are you going to br
ing her over tonight? She sounded so cool on the phone. I bet she’s nothing like Holt’s mom. You think she’s like Holt’s mom?”

  “She’s definitely not like Holt’s mom,” Parker said.

  “Not even a little bit?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Great,” he said, his voice full of relief. “I’ll take her.”

  * * *

  WHEN HOPE HEARD a car in the drive an hour later, she moved quickly from the kitchen to the front window to see who it was. She thought it might be the family from closer to the lake coming to apologize about the window. But it was Gina, dropping off Faith. Only, Faith no longer looked like the sister Hope had said goodbye to yesterday. Gone was the ugly shawl and tattered pioneer dress. Faith was wearing a pair of crisp, white capris and a scoop-neck T-shirt, with sandals. She looked stylish and modern. And she’d had her toes painted—bright red.

  Hope opened the door before her sister could even reach the stoop. “Faith?” she said uncertainly.

  “Hi! What’s up?”

  “That’s what I want to ask you,” Hope said.

  Gina beeped the horn and waved, then rolled down her window. “I’ll see you at the center in a few, huh?”

  “Actually, I won’t be there until around one,” Hope told her. “I called Lydia to tell her I’d be late and she suggested I come in for the afternoon. I have a glass company coming out to fix a broken window.”

  “Okay. See you then.” She drove off, and Hope turned back to Faith. “What happened?”

  Faith shrugged, trying to play it down, but Hope could tell from the blush creeping up her neck that she wasn’t as indifferent as she wanted to appear. “Nothing. What’s with the window repair?”

  “A kid in one of the other cabins broke the window in your room. Where did you get those clothes?”

  “Someone gave Gina a bunch of maternity things. A few items happened to fit me, and Gina thought they looked nice, so she passed them along.”

  Hope’s gaze fell to the sack her sister was carrying. “There’s more?”

  “There’s more, but don’t worry. I’m going to give them back after I deliver.”