When they reached the SUV, a few hard, mean snowflakes began to
spew from the quickly moving iron-gray clouds. Through the window of the
vehicle, they could see Sage stretched out on the backseat, her eyes closed and
her cheek pressed against the leather upholstery.
“Look at her. Sound asleep,” Jack murmured. He gazed at their
daughter with a tenderness and affection that, absurdly, made Maura want to cry
again.
“She’s brilliant at sleeping anywhere. When she was six or
seven, she once fell asleep in the middle of the Silver Days parade, curled up
in a lawn chair right there on Main Street.”
He chuckled softly at the image, and she was struck with great
force by the full realization of how very much she had taken away from him. He
had missed out on twenty years of Sage’s life and she was beginning to wonder if
her motives for not telling him about their child had been as altruistic as she
had told herself.
“She looks so young.”
“I know. I still can’t believe she will be twenty in the
spring.”
“And
I
still can’t believe she’s
pregnant. What jackass could do that to her? Look at her. She’s not even out of
her teens. She looks like she should still be playing with dolls.”
Sage was two years older than
Maura
had been. And Jack hadn’t been a jackass. He had been an angry, grieving young
man looking for a little peace, and they had both found that together. If they
had used a little more effective birth control, they wouldn’t be standing here
together looking at their sleeping daughter.
“I agree. She has a huge, bright, promising future ahead of
her. I’m terrified we’ll have to stand by and watch that future disappear in a
puff of smoke.”
“What can we do?” he asked.
The moment seemed surreal, somehow, of shared concern and
cooperation for their child, and she found it both unexpected and sweet. “Right
now, I’m not sure we have any power at all in this situation. I think adoption
is her best option. If we present a united front on that, we might have a little
more impact on her decision.”
He raised an eyebrow, and the capricious sun chose that moment
to peek through the clouds. “Is that what you want? For her to give the baby up
for adoption?”
“Are you kidding? It would rip my heart out. But don’t you
think that would be best for her and the baby? Sage isn’t in any place to raise
a child by herself right now. How will she finish college?”
“You would know that better than anyone. You were in exactly
her place.”
She gazed at Sage, so pretty and bright. “I wouldn’t trade a
moment of my life as her mother, even those terrifying early days when I didn’t
have the first idea what I was doing. The first time I gave her a bath by myself
without nurses or my mother there, I cried the whole time, afraid I was going to
drop her or drown her or give her pneumonia or something.”
She smiled a little at the memory of her own foibles and found
him watching her with that unreadable expression again.
“You didn’t, though.”
“I didn’t drown her, at least. I’m sure I made a thousand other
mistakes. But you know, despite all the mistakes and the challenges and
the…
pain,
being a mother has been an
incomparable blessing.”
She loved both of her daughters. Without them, her life would
have been as sterile and cold as, well, Jack’s appeared to her. “I want Sage to
know the joy of being a mother, but not this way and not now. Not before she has
the chance to at least
try
for the goals she’s been
setting since she was that little girl designing elaborate houses for her
dolls.”
“I’ll do whatever you need. I’m here for her now too,
Maura.”
She smiled, finding immense comfort in his promise. Jack might
have left all those years ago, but he was here now. That was the important
thing. For Sage’s sake, she told herself. Not for her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“T
HIS
WILL
BE
SUPER
FUN
. Thanks for inviting me,
Mom.”
Maura smiled across the String Fever worktable at Sage, making
good inroads on the roast beef and arugula sandwich from the brown-bag lunch she
had packed for her that morning. Maura took a bite of her own and set it back
down amid the bead idea magazines scattered across the worktable.
“We live in the same house, but it seems as if we hardly see
each other. And with spring finally on the horizon, I’ve been desperate for some
new jewelry to wear. This seemed like a perfect way to kill two birds and all
that. Beading and lunch with you. Two of my favorite things.”
“I know, right?” Sage smiled. “I’ve been meaning to come over
to the bookstore on my lunch, but there are some days I’m so busy I don’t have
five minutes free.”
“Is this going to be a problem with, er, your father?”
Sage snickered. “Not at all. And have you noticed you call him
er, your father
every time you happen to mention
him?”
“I hadn’t noticed. Sorry. I’ll try to stop.”
Jack had been back in their lives for nearly three months now.
Would she ever be completely comfortable with the whole situation?
Not that she had much interaction with him. His job kept him so
busy, she had only seen him a few times in the past six weeks since the day when
the three of them had made a visit to the recreation center site and he had held
her and offered quiet comfort.
Sage swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “I wasn’t complaining,
just pointing it out,” she said. “I think it’s kind of funny, if you want the
truth. He does the same thing, except he uses
um, your
mother
instead.”
Why would they have reason to talk about her? And why should
the idea of Jack discussing her leave her flustered and off balance?
“How is Jack?” she asked, to hide her reaction.
“He’s good. Great, actually.” Sage dipped a carrot in the small
container of low-fat ranch dressing Maura had packed knowing it was her
favorite. “We’re hearing good things about his chances for winning the
recreation project bid.”
“I’m not particularly surprised,” she answered, trying to keep
the dryness from her tone. “I would be more surprised if he
didn’t
get it.”
According to Katherine, who was on the city council, Harry
Lange had told Mayor Beaumont and the rest of the council that his donation of
the land was conditional on the city choosing his son’s bid. Without Jack on
board as the project architect, there would be no recreation center.
She would never tell Jack
or
Sage
that, however. Contrary as he was—much like his father in that regard—Jack just
might choose to walk away rather than give Harry something he obviously wanted.
If he found out about it, Jack likely wouldn’t appreciate his father pushing his
weight around town on his behalf.
She had to wonder what Harry was up to, whether he was simply
manipulating everyone in his own unsubtle way, or if he genuinely wanted his son
to stick around Hope’s Crossing so badly.
“So you’re still enjoying working there?”
“Absolutely. Jack is…fantastic. He’s a genius, Mom. I’m
learning more from watching him work than I could from years and years of
classes.”
“That’s great.” Her answer was even mostly sincere. For Sage’s
sake, she was pleased to see them developing a relationship.
“If you want the truth, I still can’t believe that Jackson
Lange is actually my father, even after all these weeks of working with him. I
studied his work in some of my early-level architecture classes and never once
had any inkling he might be related to me. It still all feels so weird, you
know?”
Maura couldn’t argue with that. Definitely weird. “Did you see
I left you another message from that Gunnison adoption attorney?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ve got a stack of attorneys I need to call
back when I have more time. I’m planning to set aside a day next week. Hey, I
forgot to get a drink. Can I grab you something from Claire’s stash in the
fridge?”
She didn’t miss how quickly Sage changed the subject. She
suspected Sage didn’t want to talk about the adoption because she was having
second thoughts. Maura had to pray that wasn’t the case.
“I’ll get us both something to drink. I wasn’t thinking. You
stay off your feet. What did you want?”
“Well, I’d really love a Mountain Dew right now, but I’d better
just stick with a bottled water.”
“Still staying off the caffeine?”
“Yes. Everything else has been easy. I don’t smoke or drink,
but the caffeine thing is going to kill me.”
“You’re doing great, honey. It will go by so fast, you won’t
even remember being without Mountain Dew for a few months.”
“If you say so.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She headed to the front of the store. Claire was just finishing
ringing someone up, and Maura waited until the customer finished and headed out
the door, not willing to interrupt a sale.
“Hey, can I bum a couple of bottled waters from you? We forgot
to pack them in our lunch. I’ll add it to your tab over at the store.”
Her friend grinned. “You can have whatever you want from me as
long as I can still grab my morning coffee at your shop.”
“Of course. I keep the Sumatra–French roast blend just for
you,” she answered.
“I’m so glad the two of you scheduled the worktable today. It’s
great to see you together. How’s Sage feeling?” she asked.
“She seems to be doing fine.”
“Second trimester is such a blessing, as I remember it. I’m
praying she’ll have a gentle, uneventful pregnancy for the remaining months.
It…might make what comes after a little easier to bear.”
She was grateful for her friend’s compassion—but as much as she
loved Claire, she really didn’t want to talk about Sage’s adoption plans,
especially when she hadn’t come to terms with another loss herself.
“Thanks, Claire.”
“Go ahead and grab a water bottle. Have you figured out what
you’re going to make today?”
“Maybe just some new earrings. Neither of us has a lot of
time.”
“I just got in some new wooden beads. Have you seen those
yet?”
She shook her head. “Where are they?”
“Go grab whatever you want to drink, and I’ll bring back some
samples while you two finish your lunch.”
“Thanks.”
As at home in String Fever as she was in her own store, she
headed into Claire’s neatly organized office, where the minifridge was tucked
under a counter. She grabbed a couple of water bottles and heard the phone ring
and Claire answer it, just as the bells chimed out front, heralding new
customers.
With water bottles in hand, she headed for the door of the
office, then cringed for Claire’s sake when she spied the newcomers out in the
store.
“Hello!” sang out Genevieve Beaumont, her arm tucked into the
crooked elbow of her fiancé, Sawyer Danforth.
The two of them together looked like Barbie and Ken, tall,
gorgeous and perfect for each other. Gen, with her gleaming smile and
classically beautiful features, always seemed to make Maura feel short and
grubby, the crazy-haired naked troll in the toy box.
Claire gave Gen a practiced smile that hid any sign of the
exasperation Maura knew she must be feeling. She held her hand over the phone.
“Hi, Gen. I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said.
For more than a year now, the rest of Hope’s Crossing had been
forced to accommodate Gen’s various wedding whims. She was Bridezilla on
steroids, demanding and unreasonable and sometimes petulant as her wedding was
scheduled and rescheduled. It was now less than a month away, much to the relief
of all the local merchants under pressure to make sure everything turned out
perfectly for Gen’s marriage to Sawyer Danforth, son and heir apparent to a
politically powerful Denver family.
Claire had been unlucky enough to be dragged into the wedding
preparations when she had agreed to complete custom beadwork on Genevieve’s
gorgeous wedding dress. She had finished it beautifully—twice, actually, since
the first dress had been violently destroyed by Layla and Taryn Thorne and the
other teenagers involved in the car accident during their incomprehensible
vandalism and robbery spree.
Maura really didn’t want to talk to Gen, Charlie Beaumont’s
older sister. Relations between the two families had been strained, to say the
least, since Charlie had pleaded guilty and been sentenced.
She slipped through the store as unobtrusively as she could
manage. At least the worktable was tucked into the back corner of String Fever,
the view obscured from the front by display racks. Maybe Gen wouldn’t even
notice them here.
Much to her dismay, she found Sage looking pale, her hands flat
on the worktable as if she needed it for support.
“Here’s your water. Sorry I took a little longer than I’d
planned.”
Her words seemed to jerk Sage out of her trance. She blinked
and curled her hands into fists, then stood up so abruptly her chair nearly
tipped backward. “I need to get out of here.”
Maura stared. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick.”
Sage shot a look toward the front of the store, where Maura
could see the happy couple looking at Claire’s extensive chain collection. She
shoved her arms in her coat and wrapped it around her tightly. “I just…really
need some fresh air. And I should be heading back to the office. I forgot Jack
wanted me to fax some papers to the San Francisco office.”
“What about the earrings we were going to make?”
“I can’t. Not right now. I’ll… Maybe we can do it another day.
Sorry. I just… I need to go.”
She whirled around to the front of the store with another look
that bordered on panic before she scooped up her backpack and rushed to the back
door, which led her out in completely the opposite direction from the shortest
route back to Jack’s office.
At the sound of the slamming door, Claire looked up from her
conversation with Genevieve and Sawyer, her brow furrowed. For just a moment,
Maura wasn’t sure how to respond. A dark suspicion took root, but she wasn’t
ready to look at it yet. She quickly gathered up the remains of their lunch and
returned the beading magazines to the rack on the wall. They had only pulled
down a few findings, and it was easy for her to return them to the displays.
When she finished, she pulled on her coat and walked reluctantly toward the
trio, still talking by the front desk.
She still didn’t want to talk to Gen or Sawyer but also
couldn’t be deliberately rude to Claire by leaving without a word.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know
we apparently only came for the use of your table and the free water bottles.
Thanks for that.”
“You’re not making anything?” Claire asked, clearly
disappointed.
“Not today, I guess. Sage wasn’t feeling well. She said she
needed some fresh air.”
Sawyer stiffened almost imperceptibly. She wouldn’t have
noticed if he hadn’t been standing next to her, in all his perfectly handsome
glory—at least she would find him handsome if she were the kind of woman who
went for someone ten years younger and fairly plastic. Which she wasn’t.
“Sage? Was that…Sage McKnight?”
“Yes. She’s my daughter.”
“Is she okay?”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you knew
her.”
“Oh, I don’t. Not really. Well, just a little. We met at a
party last summer when I was in town for a few weeks working on your dad’s
reelection campaign—remember that, Gen? We went to that party at the reservoir?
A friend of a friend, I think, but it turned out to be mostly college
students.”
“Of course. Rachel Zeller’s birthday party.”
“Right. We were trying to get a donation out of her father so
we went, but the crowd was a little young for us. Sage and I went out on the
wakeboards while you were working on your tan, remember that?”
“Look at you, with your memory for names and faces. That will
come in so handy when you’re back in Washington, won’t it?” Genevieve’s smile
was rather tight, Maura thought.
“Tell Sage we said hello.” Sawyer gave that charming smile of
his that seemed to make every female heart flutter helplessly like a moth with a
singed wing, and that dark suspicion dug its claws in more sharply.
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Let me know if everything’s okay,” Claire said, her pretty
features furrowed.
“I’m sure she’s fine. Thanks, Claire. Sorry to ditch on
you.”
“Not a problem. That only means I’ll get to look forward to
having you both in again.”
Claire had an uncanny way of turning any obstacle into a
positive. It was pretty darn annoying sometimes.
“Right. See you later.”
She walked out into the cool March afternoon and headed down
the street toward Jack’s office. Worry for her daughter was the reason for these
butterflies jumping around in her stomach, she told herself. She was absolutely
not
nervous to see Jack again.
When she arrived at Lange & Associates, she could see
through the window she had guessed correctly. Sage was sitting behind her desk
staring down at her hands. She didn’t even register awareness when Maura pushed
open the door.
“All right, spill. What’s going on?”
Sage finally looked up, her features pale and set. She blinked
when she saw Maura. “Mom. You didn’t have to follow me.”
“You ran out of String Fever like you were about to throw up on
the sidewalk. Forgive a mother for being worried for her child. Now, what’s
wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just… I’m being stupid.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
“No, I am. I’ve been stupid for months. Everything is so messed
up.”