Lonestar Angel (22 page)

Neither did she. But she wanted a man who loved her completely, for herself. Not for some misguided sense of duty. Yes, he’d said he wanted to marry her, that he missed her and was glad when he found out she was pregnant. But how many of his assurances were merely what he thought he was supposed to say?

“Eden?”

His mouth was near her ear, his breath on her neck. If she turned her head, her lips would graze his. But she didn’t succumb to the passion burning through her veins. If she did, the heartbreak to come would be too great.

Tell him you want a future with him
.

She turned her head and was lost when he slipped his arm around her and drew her close. His lips touched hers, moved to the curve of her jaw and to her ear.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered into her hair.

She let herself mold to him. “I wish I’d had the courage to stay.”

“I wish I’d never left you. Neither of us was thinking. What happened when you ran off?”

“Daniel was in Wabash, so I went there. I found a job.” She didn’t want him to be angry that she’d run to Daniel, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I spent weeks, months, dreaming that you found me. That you showed up at the door with Brianna in your arms. That was the only way I managed to get by, day by day.”

“I should have followed you. Stupid pride got in the way. Then you were seeing Kent.”

“That was no grand passion. It was survival.”

“I don’t think his emotions were heavily involved either.”

“No, they weren’t. He and I just seemed . . . suitable.”

A train blew its horn a block over. A lonesome sound. “That whistle was like me, Clay. Sounding out a lonely note and hoping someone would hear me so I didn’t have to be alone. Kent heard it and answered. But that’s all it was.”

He held her gaze. “I’m glad.”

All the girls had freshly washed hair and smelled like Eden’s lavender soap, which she’d brought with her. Every female liked fragrance. She’d dried five small heads, then tucked the girls into their beds with a book. Except for Madeline. She sat on the big bed against the wall, as far away from Eden as she could get.

Eden picked up a brush and went to join her. “Want me to brush your hair?” she asked. Madeline had loved having her hair brushed until the day Eden disciplined her. Maybe some cuddle time would end the tension. Eden longed to restore their good relationship. The pain in the child’s eyes tore at her.

Madeline didn’t look at her, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “If you want.” She presented her stiff back to Eden.

“Let’s sit at the dressing table.” Eden led her to the stool. She wanted to watch Madeline’s expressions in the mirror.

Eden released the braids and ran her fingers through to loosen the strands before she began to run the brush through the long blond tresses. “You have such pretty hair. Why do you like so much to have it brushed?”

“Brushing makes it stay pretty.”

“It’s lovely. Brushing is good for it?”

“My mother used to do it.”

Eden slowed the brush, then started again. “When did you see your mother last?”

“I don’t know.” Madeline closed her eyes, the expression of bliss on her face reflected in the mirror. “I guess I saw her for a minute the other day. She came when she wasn’t supposed to. Mr. Clay made her go away.”

“How old were you when she . . . went away?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe three? I was little.”

Eden nodded gravely, smothering her smile. “What do you remember about her?”

“She smelled good. Like flowers. And her hands were soft.”

“What color was her hair?”

“It was blond. Like mine.”

The blond hair on the woman who had visited the other day might have been dyed. And it wouldn’t do any good to ask Madeline how old her mother was. A child had no concept of a parent’s age. But Madeline had recognized her mother the other day—unless the person she thought was her mother really wasn’t. It was all a muddle.

“She had a little spot right here.” Madeline indicated a spot beside her mouth. “She said it was a beauty spot. I liked to touch it.”

Eden would have to ask Clay if the woman claiming to be Madeline’s mother had a mole by her mouth. “What else do you remember?”

“I had her eyes.”

“So, blue eyes?”

Madeline nodded. “She used to sing to me too. She used to sing in the choir in Mexico.”

“Mexico?”

Madeline nodded. “That’s what she said.”

The longer Eden brushed the little girl’s hair, the more relaxed she became. Maybe things would be back to normal tomorrow. “Want me to braid your hair for sleep?” she asked, putting down the brush. When Madeline shook her head, Eden smiled. “Time for bed, then. Scoot.”

Madeline slid from the chair and Eden patted her behind as she passed. Such darling girls. She felt fulfilled and necessary here. Like what she did mattered. She kissed each of the girls, turned on the CD of hymns, then flipped off the light and shut the door, leaving a crack that let in a tiny sliver of light.

The heady scent of coffee hung in the air and she followed her nose to the kitchen. “Decaf?”

Clay turned from the pot with two cups in his hand. “Yep. I made it strong, though. And it’s freshly ground.”

“Smells good.” Their hands touched when she took the coffee from him. “I talked to Madeline.”

He led her to the living room and plopped onto the sofa. “And?”

She sank beside him on the cushion he’d patted invitingly. “She says her mother had a mole by her mouth. Did you notice a mole?”

He frowned silently for a moment, then shook his head. “No mole. I’m positive.”

“She could’ve had it removed.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t see a scar either.”

“She might have covered it with makeup.”

“We can probably get a photo of her.”

She took a sip of her coffee. Nice and strong. “I wondered if the woman she remembers from when she was little is different from the older one who came. Madeline seems fond of the memories but frightened of the woman in the yard.”

He propped his feet on the battered coffee table. “The kits are on their way.”

“It will be such a relief to know. Then we can begin to delve into the background of how Brianna came to be here. That might tell us who is terrorizing us now. I want that man behind bars.”

“No more than I do,” he said grimly.

She sipped her coffee and studied his expression over the rim of her cup. His comment last night had haunted her. He’d been glad she was pregnant. Glad! When the very thought had terrified her. And her misperception had set the tone of their entire marriage. She’d been sure he felt compelled to marry her, that if he’d had his choice, they never would have seen each other after Hawaii.

What if she hadn’t seen anything right?

The DNA kits had been unpacked and spread out on the table. Clay eyed the swabs. “I guess we have to get the samples the way they want them. What do we tell the girls?” He glanced through the window at the children playing in the yard. They were catching lizards.

She took the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and poured a glass over ice, then handed it to him. “We could just tell them we have tests we need to send in. I’m sure they’ve been to the doctor before. I doubt they’ll think anything about it.”

“I suppose. One at a time or bring them all in?”

“We’ll make it a game with all of them.” She shoved open the window. “Girls, would you come in here for a minute?”

The girls left the hapless lizard they’d been chasing and trooped into the kitchen.

“What’s that?” Lacie eyed the swabs on the table.

“We’re going to see who can do the best job with these swabs,” Eden said. She picked one up and held it aloft. “We want you to stick it in your mouth and turn it against your cheek. Like this.” She demonstrated, turning the swab against the inside of her cheek. “See if you can get it all wet without sucking on it. You need to push it against your cheek kind of hard but not hard enough to hurt.” She finished the sample for herself and popped it into the plastic bag and labeled it with her name.

“I’m going to win!” Katie grabbed the first swab and worked it in her mouth.

The other girls were quick to follow her example. Five minutes later they had five carefully labeled samples. She sent the girls back out to play. “Now you,” she told Clay.

He obliged. She labeled his, then slid the samples into the return bag. “Is this even legal?” she asked.

He hesitated. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, but I don’t think it’s illegal. Any father could gather DNA and test a child he’s been accused of fathering. I admit, I’d rather do it through the courts, but that will take too much time.”

In a few days this nightmare would be over. They’d be able to tell Brianna that she had parents who loved her and wanted her to live with them forever. Eden’s eyes misted at the thought.

“Have you thought about how we will tell her?” Clay asked as she sealed the envelope.

“I’ve thought of little else now that we’ll know in a few days.”

“And?”

“We have to be careful not to scare her. I’m not sure we should mention the kidnapping. Maybe just say we lost her for a while. Then, when the kidnapper is behind bars, we can tell her the truth.”

He nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same. If Katie happens to be Brianna, she’s already dealing with nightmares. We don’t want to compound them.” Clay’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “It’s Brendan.”

She sat down. So much of her past was slamming into her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for all of this.

Clay opened a kitchen drawer and rummaged, then produced a pen and paper. “Go ahead,” he said.

Brendan must have gotten her father’s phone number. Her insides were unsettled. What would she even say when she called?
Hi, I’m the daughter you never acknowledged
. That would go over really well.

Clay disconnected the call. “He got the number.”

“I gathered that.”

“You look nervous.”

She clasped her shaking hands together. “I am.”

“I can call for you.”

She shook her head. “I need to do this. Maybe there is some sliver of compassion left in his soul for me. I can appeal to him to leave us alone.” She didn’t remember much about him—just that he was big with black hair and angry eyes.

Clay slid the paper across the table to her. “Tell him to send someone after that pendant and it’s all his.” He grimaced. “I hate to give it up, though. I liked seeing it on you.”

“We’ll find something similar,” she said.

“All he has to do is leave us alone.”

“And tell us which girl is ours,” she said, picking up the paper.

“I doubt he knows.” He held up the envelope. “This will tell us in a few more days.”

She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands shook as she punched in the number. Her mouth was dry as she held the phone to her ear.

“Hola.”
The man’s curt voice was gruff.

The voice turned her insides to pudding. “Is this Hector Santiago?”