Lonestar Angel (20 page)

The server brought her ice water. She squeezed the lemon into her glass and took a sip. “I assume you’re married to my mother?” she asked the man who’d accompanied Nancy.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said before he could speak. “I never introduced Omar. We’ve been married ten years. This is Omar Santiago.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Eden said. What did she say now? Did she ask how they met or jump right into the reason for the meeting? But no, they should wait for any serious conversation until after they’d ordered their food.

A Don Edwards song played, his gravelly voice singing about cowboys. For a brief instant, Eden even imagined herself in cowboy boots. She shook the nasty image away. Once the server took their orders and left them in peace, she squared her shoulders and glanced at her mother, who smiled back.

“So, Eden,” her mother said. “You look well. And your husband is so handsome. I’d like to know about your life.”

“Since you walked away and left an eight-year-old by herself?” Eden couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t the best way to mend fences, but hadn’t her mother even wondered what Eden had done when she came home to find her mother gone?

Her mother blanched and glanced at her husband, who took her hand. She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry about that, Eden. What did you do? I want to know the full extent of the damage I caused.”

Was she gloating about it? Eden wished the encounter were over and she and Clay were headed home. “When the snowstorm hit, I came back to the house. It was dark. I’d been hiding out in the little playhouse at the park until I couldn’t feel my fingers.”

Her mother winced and tears pooled in her eyes. She took a sip of water. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice choked. “Then what?”

Was her mother protecting Omar from the truth? “The trailer was dark. I called your name but stayed in the living room like I’d been told. When you didn’t appear by ten, I went to bed. The next morning when I got up, I fixed you breakfast. Toast and jelly, the way you liked it. But your room was empty.” Her throat closed and she swallowed hard, remembering the awful moment when she’d seen the empty closet.

She clung to Clay’s hand. No good could come from replaying all this. The warmth of his fingers bolstered her courage.

“You saw my clothes were gone?” her mother asked.

Eden nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have my father’s phone number, so I didn’t do anything for a few days. I went to school and came home. Eventually I ran out of food, so I went to the neighbor’s and asked for some bread. It all came out then. They called the welfare department, and a social worker came and took me away.”

Her mother wept, dabbing at her eyes with a wadded-up tissue. Eden watched with a strange detachment. She should feel something, shouldn’t she? At least sympathy? Or had all sensation been washed away as the emotions were dredged from her subconscious?

Her gaze caught Clay’s, and she glimpsed compassion in the depths of his eyes. For the first time, she wondered how he felt when he realized she’d left him. She felt almost dizzy when she realized she wasn’t that different from her mother. No, she hadn’t abandoned a child, but she’d run away rather than face any unpleasantness. She looked down at her hands.

Omar motioned to the server. “Bring my wife some coffee, please,” he said.

The server acted as though a woman sobbing at the table was an everyday occurrence. She grabbed a pot and a cup from a cart by the door and brought it to the table, then left.

Eden’s mom poured half-and-half into the cup, then took a sip. “I’m sorry. It breaks my heart to know what I did to you.” Her eyes were red when she stared at Eden. “How long were you in foster care?”

“Until I turned eighteen.” Eden dipped a chip in salsa so her mother couldn’t see how upset she was.

Her mother took another gulp of coffee. “W-Were they good people?”

Eden decided she’d been pointed enough about her circumstances. Maybe her mother really was sorry. “Kind and loving.” No need to say they had high expectations that had made her a perfectionist. No reason to mention they micromanaged every area of her life. At least she’d had a home and had always felt their love, even if it was conditional.

Her mother fished another tissue out of her purse, a Brighton that looked new. “I was so young.”

“You were nearly my age,” Eden said. “Hardly a child.”

A flush stained her mother’s cheeks. She glanced at her husband, who put his arm around the back of her chair and shot a disapproving glance Eden’s way. Well, let him. He wasn’t the one who’d been abandoned.

Her mother wetted her lips. “Looking back now, it seems the choices should have been easy. I got pregnant with you, but your father was already married. He promised to take care of us, but he seldom sent a check.”

“So you became a prostitute.” Even to her own ears, the statement was harsh.

Her mother winced. “Hardly a prostitute, my dear. I . . . I had some male friends.”

“Who gave you money. I saw them leave it.” Eden remembered the rolls of cash left on the table or on her mother’s pillow. Cash that bought them pizza or milk or electricity.

Her mother’s eyes welled again, but Eden squelched her flash of sympathy. Her mother’s actions might have been bearable if she had done it to keep them together or to feed her daughter. But too many times the cash had gone for pretty dresses or jewelry. Trips to get a manicure or a pedicure. Then she’d just walked away without caring if Eden had food or heat.

Her mother took another sip of coffee. “I thought I had no choice. That you’d be better off without me.”

“Which makes no sense. How could an eight-year-old be better off alone, fending for herself?” Clay put in.

Eden glanced at him, heartened by his passionate defense. Did he see how inappropriate her mom’s excuses were? But what about her own? She didn’t want to see herself in her mother’s behavior, but the notion kept popping up.

“Give Nancy a chance,” Omar said. “She’s trying to apologize for what she did.”

The apology had seemed thin to Eden. Was that how Clay saw her own excuses?

When Eden said nothing, Omar rose. “Perhaps we should go,” he said, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

Eden’s mother took his hand. “Sit down, Omar.” Her voice trembled. “I’ve gone about this all wrong. There is no excuse for what I did. All the rationalization in the world doesn’t change the fact that I left my child to fend for herself. Without food. Without comfort. Without anything.” She caught Eden’s gaze. “I hope you can forgive me someday, Eden. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.”

With no warning, tears flooded Eden’s eyes. A simple, heartfelt apology. That’s all she’d ever wanted.

Clay scooted his chair closer and put his arm around her. “You have a tissue?” he asked Nancy, who nodded and passed one to her daughter.

Eden took it and dabbed at the moisture in her eyes. How embarrassing to cry in front of them all. She never cried. She’d sworn never to let someone hurt her like that again. Now here she was, blubbering away.

“Why?” she asked. “What made you think it was okay to leave me? Did I do something?”

“What?” Her mother shook her head. “It was never about you. If I’d thought of you instead of myself, I wouldn’t have left. I didn’t think I could ever have a life saddled with a child. I was selfish, pure and simple. I rationalized to myself that you’d go to school and tell the teacher. Someone would come.”

Eden mopped her streaming eyes again, willing herself to stop. “I never cry,” she gulped. “What about my father? I don’t even remember his name. It was all so long ago. I can’t even remember what he looked like.”

Her mother exchanged a glance with Omar. “It was Omar’s brother, Hector.”

Eden absorbed the news. Maybe that’s why the man seemed vaguely familiar. “Where is he now?”

Omar shifted in his seat. “He’s a drug dealer in Colombia.”

19

S
HE
’
D HANDLED IT BETTER THAN HE DID
. T
HREE HOURS LATER
C
LAY STIRRED HALF
-
AND
-
half into Eden’s coffee and slid it across the table to her. The coffee shop was deserted this late. Only a few customers plunked down money for a latte and hurried out into the sunset. The scent of cinnamon and yeast from a bakery down the street was tempting for dessert, but he didn’t want to leave her long enough to buy a treat.

“Do you want to see her again?” he asked her.

She sipped her coffee. “No. Maybe.” She gave a watery smile. “I don’t know.”

“You did good, honey. Handled it all with grace.”

She dabbed at her eyes. “Hardly. I wish I could quit crying. I hate crying. And what was the point of this? To assuage her guilt?”

Had he ever seen her cry? He didn’t think so. She’d screamed and hit things when Brianna was gone. Sobbed hysterically and hadn’t slept for days, but her eyes had been dry. “I’d guess so. And to assure herself that you’re all right. Maybe you can both move on now.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I wouldn’t have been able to get through it without you.”

At her words, a curl of warmth encircled him. “I wanted to be here for you.” He wanted to be there for her forever, not just for a day. Didn’t she see that?

She sipped her coffee. “My father is a Santiago. The kidnapper who died was Jose Santiago. What does that mean?”

“A weird coincidence? Santiago is as common a name south of the border as Jones would be in the States.” He shook his head. “But you’re right, there might be a connection. But why would your father want to hurt his own daughter?”

“None of it has made any sense. Maybe your friend Brendan will have some insight. What time is he supposed to meet us here?”

He glanced at his watch. “Any minute. Rick was picking him up at the airport.”

“Amazing that he was willing to come all this way as a favor.”

“He saved my hide down in Colombia. I was taking pics of kids in a village along the river. A Jeep full of commandos rolled in and started firing rounds for fun. No good reason. They were laughing and joking while bullets flew. I confronted them. The kids got away and I got thrown in jail.”

“Lucky you weren’t killed,” she said, her eyes huge.

“Actually, they were saving me for sport. My execution by firing squad was going to be in two days.” He’d never told her all this. He hadn’t wanted her to worry. “Brendan broke me out in the middle of the night.”

“How did he know about it?”

“He’s special ops. He knows everything.” Clay grinned and took a drink of his Americano. “I guess he’d been at a neighboring village and heard about the gringo taking pictures.”

“What happened to the pictures?”

“My camera and film were lost. I hated that. I had some really good shots that would have shown the lives these kids lead in drug towns. The only thing I got out with was that pendant I gave you when I got back.”

Her eyes widened. “The one with the mother and baby?”

“That’s the one.”

“You told me a little girl gave it to you in exchange for a piece of hard candy.”

“She did. I just didn’t tell you the backdrop.”

“I loved that pendant.” Her voice was wistful. “Where is it now?”

“I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket.”

She gave him a startled look. “How long?”

“Since I jumped in the truck to find you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled it out.

Her eyes were soft as she plucked it from his palm. “It’s always been special to me.”

“I’ve been wanting to give it back to you, but I wasn’t sure you’d take it.”

She rubbed the pendant in her hands. “Did the child make it herself?”

“I don’t think so. She was only five or six.” He wanted to fasten it around her neck, but he waited for a cue from her. “I’m not sure what it’s made of. I just like it because it reminds me of the little girl. The design looks pre-Colombian.”

“Here, you keep it safe.” She started to hand it back to him but he closed her fingers around it.

“It’s yours.”

She stared at him a moment, then lifted it to her neck and started to fasten the chain. It must have missed the clasp, because it slipped from her fingers and landed on the tile patio. He heard something crack, and when he looked down, the piece of jewelry lay in two pieces.

“Oh no!” She scooped up the nearest piece and it crumbled in her fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked at it in her hand and it was different now. Sparkly. “What’s that?”

“Wait, it’s not exactly broken. A covering has come off.” She held out her open palm. Green and gold glittered in her hand.

“Wow.” He scooped it up and examined it. “I bet this is worth money. Someone must have covered it over with the other stuff to hide it.”

“How exciting!” Her eyes were shining. “Is that jade?”

He looked more closely at the baby. “I think so. And the gold is high quality.”

“How would a peasant girl get something like this?”

“She probably didn’t know what she had.”

A truck maneuvered into a parking space across the street under the streetlight. Two men got out, and he recognized Rick and Brendan. “The reinforcements are here,” he said. He stood and greeted the men.