Читать книгу Faith, Hope and Family - GINA WILKINS - Страница 9

The Honesty city limits sign was just visible within the range of Deborah McCloud’s headlights. She was tempted to keep driving, leaving the town where she had grown up behind her. Honesty, Mississippi, wasn’t her home anymore; she had escaped nine years ago when she’d left for college, and she hadn’t been back for more than a few days at a time during the past seven years. It was only because her mother and two older brothers still lived here that she returned at all.

Mostly her mother, she acknowledged. She and her brothers had drifted apart in the past few years.

It might have been a Freudian impulse that made her press harder on the accelerator as she moved closer to the edge of town. Probably a barely suppressed desire to escape the unhappy memories here, though she tried not to dwell on them during her infrequent visits with her mother. She supposed it was her brother’s wedding that afternoon that had brought the memories so close to the surface tonight, preventing her from sleeping.

A flash of blue lights in her rearview mirror made her hiss a curse between her teeth. Terrific, she thought, pulling over at the side of the deserted road. The only thing that would make this episode worse was if the officer who had pulled her over was Dylan Smith. Surely, fate wouldn’t be that cruel.

She should have known better.

Resting one hand on the top of her car, Dylan studied her through the open driver’s-door window. Even though he was silhouetted by the yellowish street-lamps above him, she had no trouble picturing his roughly handsome face, nor his bitingly intense steel-gray eyes. The dark-brown hair he had once worn rebel-long was now almost militarily short, befitting his career on the right side of the law.

When he spoke, his voice was deeper than the youthful echo that still too frequently haunted her dreams, but it held the familiar undercurrent of mocking humor. “Evening, Ms. McCloud. Did you rob a bank? Knock over a liquor store? You seem to be in a big hurry to get out of town.”

Knowing her face was illuminated by the same light that shadowed his, she kept her expression impassive. “I’m not leaving town. I just felt like taking a drive.”

“At midnight?”

“Yes. Is that against the law?”

If her challenging tone annoyed him, he didn’t let it show. “No. But doing sixty-five in a forty-five-mile-an-hour zone is.”

“So write me a ticket.” She extracted her driver’s license from her wallet and held it out to him. “If you run this, you’ll see that I have no outstanding warrants.”

He made no move to take the license. “You know I’m not going to ticket you.”

“You’d ticket any other speeder. I expect the same treatment.”

Leaving his hands where they were, he asked, “How was your brother’s wedding?”

The abrupt change of subject made her blink. She lowered her outstretched hand to her lap. “It was fine. No problems.”

“Gideon and Adrienne make a great couple.”

“Yes, they do.” Keeping her voice totally disinterested, she said, “I heard that Adrienne insisted on inviting you. How come you didn’t show up?”

“It’s not like you to ask stupid questions.”

His curt reply made her temper flare again. “Then I’m sorry I asked.”

He sighed. “I didn’t want any unpleasantness to cast a shadow over the wedding. I knew you wouldn’t want me there. And, despite my new friendship with Adrienne, Gideon and I still barely speak. For their sake, and for your mother’s, I didn’t want to risk any problems.”

“I really couldn’t care less if you were there or not. And my mother would have been as gracious to you as she was to any of the other guests.”

He obviously didn’t buy her implication that he no longer had the power to stir any emotions, even negative ones, in her, but he didn’t challenge her on that. “I always admired your mother, you know. A real class act. The way she’s being so kind to her exhusband’s orphaned little girl—well, that just confirms what I always thought about her.”

Deborah had no intention of discussing her family scandals with him. “I’m sure my mother would be pleased that you think so highly of her.”

He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “I’m sure your mother couldn’t care less what I think of her.”

She tapped the steering wheel again. “Are you going to write me a ticket or not?”

This time his laugh was a bit more natural. The one that had always warmed some cold little spot deep inside her heart—and would have done so again if she hadn’t steeled herself against it. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a speeder actually demand a citation from me before.”

She scowled. “Well?”

“No ticket. I’ll just advise you to slow down for the remainder of your drive.”

“Then I’m free to go?”

He dropped his arm to his side and stepped back from the car. His voice was suddenly weary when he replied, “I’ve never tried to stop you from leaving, Deborah.”

Not trusting herself to speak, she put the car in gear and drove away, well aware that he remained where he was until she was out of his sight.

Deborah was up early the next morning, having managed only a few hours of sleep after returning from her midnight drive. Following the scents of coffee and freshly baked sticky buns, she wandered into the kitchen where her mother stood at the counter slicing fruit. Impeccable as always, Lenore McCloud was already dressed in a cream blouse and a tailored camel skirt. Her once-dark hair was now liberally streaked with gray. It was sleekly styled, not a strand out of place.

Conscious of her own tumbled, dark-blond hair, baggy T-shirt, plaid dorm pants and bare feet, Deborah cleared her throat. “I feel like I’ve walked into one of those old TV sitcoms. You’re even wearing pearls.”

Lenore reached up automatically to touch one of her earrings and then the gleaming strand at her throat. “I have a civic committee meeting this morning at ten. And the pearls match the outfit.”

“Of course they do. You always match.”

Lenore glanced at Deborah’s outfit, but chose not to comment. “You were out rather late last night, weren’t you?”

Deborah hadn’t realized her mother had heard her leave. She should have known better. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she replied casually, “I couldn’t sleep. Decided to drive around for a while.”

“Is there anything in particular on your mind? Something you would like to talk about?”

Carrying the coffee to the table in the cheery, bay-shaped breakfast nook, Deborah shook her head. “I guess I was still wired from the wedding.”

Lenore joined her at the table, which was already set for breakfast for two. She set a plate of sticky buns and a bowl of fruit in the center, then fetched a cup of coffee for herself. “I’m so glad everything went perfectly yesterday. It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Lovely.” Deborah helped herself to a sticky bun, ignoring the fruit for the moment.

“Gideon looked happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“He did look surprisingly content, didn’t he? Who would have believed he, of all people, would get involved in a whirlwind courtship and be married so quickly? What’s it been, two whole months since he and Adrienne met face-to-face for the first time?”

Lenore smiled mistily. “It’s nice to see both my boys so happy with their new brides.”

Deborah plucked a pecan from the top of her bun, then popped it into her mouth. “Nathan’s always happy.”

“Well, not always, perhaps.”

“C’mon, Mom, you know he’s the sunniest-natured of your offspring. You long ago labeled me the temperamental one and Gideon the moody one. Nathan has always been the happy-go-lucky, optimistic older brother whose personal mission is to make sure the rest of us are safe and content.”

“You and Gideon did tend to be more…challenging than Nathan,” Lenore admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m more partial to him—or to any of you. I love my children equally.”

“I know,” Deborah conceded. “And I’m glad you and Nathan were able to settle your differences. I know it was hurting you both when you were estranged.”

Lenore smiled a bit wryly. “I could never stay angry with Nathan for long. No one could.”

“Except me, of course,” Deborah murmured into her coffee cup.

“Except you,” Lenore agreed evenly, her smile deepening a bit.

“Still, you’re sure you haven’t gone overboard with this Isabelle thing? The way she tagged around behind you at the wedding yesterday, calling you ‘Nanna,’ treating you like her grandmother—that can’t be a comfortable situation for you.”

Lenore pulled herself straighter in her chair, her green eyes snapping with what might have been annoyance. “That’s nonsense. I’m perfectly comfortable with the way things are. I know you’ve spent very little time around her, but Isabelle is an extraordinary four-year-old. She’s bright, funny and well-behaved. And, since Nathan and Caitlin will be raising her with their own children, should they have any, she will probably always see me as a grandmother. Why would I mind that?”

Deborah could think of a half dozen reasons why—starting with the fact that Isabelle was the product of an extramarital affair between her father, former gubernatorial candidate Stuart McCloud, and a young campaign worker only a couple of years older than Deborah. The affair had become public only months before the election, putting an end to Stuart’s campaign—and to his thirty-year marriage to Lenore, who had been both humiliated and devastated by the scandal. Still, Lenore had held her head high with characteristic dignity and poise.

A senior in an out-of-state college at the time, Deborah had never again spoken to her father after he left his family to marry his young mistress. Nathan-the-peacemaker had been the only one of the siblings to maintain a relationship with their father, though it had been a distant one since Stuart and Kimberly had moved to California to begin their new life together. Nathan was the only one who had visited Stuart there, where he had fallen hard for his little half sister.

When Stuart and Kimberly had died in a tourist accident in Mexico just over a year ago, Nathan had been named executor of the orphaned toddler’s inheritance. And when arrangements for her care in California had fallen through, Nathan had brought her into his home, had himself appointed her guardian and announced his intention to raise her himself. With his new wife’s help, of course.

Lenore hadn’t accepted that development easily. At first, she had felt hurt and betrayed by Nathan’s actions, refusing to have anything to do with the child. But when it had become apparent that Nathan’s choice had been made and that she would push him away permanently if she refused to acknowledge the child who was now such an important part of his life, she had gracefully relented. Announcing that she would fill the role of surrogate grandmother for the child, she had once again earned the sympathy and support of her neighbors, who practically considered the generous, tireless community volunteer a saint.

There were times when Deborah wondered if her mother carried this sainthood thing too far. She was certain she couldn’t have been so gracious in betrayal. In fact, she still harbored some resentment that Nathan had been willing to sacrifice his relationship with Lenore, Gideon and herself in favor of their father’s late-life child. Even understanding his rationale—that Isabelle needed him more than the others did—didn’t completely heal the wound. But then, she’d never claimed to be as noble as her mother, she reminded herself.

A real class act. Deborah could suddenly hear the echo of Dylan’s voice when he’d spoken of Lenore only hours earlier. And she frowned, because she had been trying hard to put that awkward little interlude out of her mind.

Because she could tell that Lenore was becoming increasingly defensive about her decision to include Isabelle in her life, Deborah decided to change the subject. She would not allow her father’s actions to cause another wedge between herself and her mother more than a year after his death. “I’m sure you know what’s best for you,” she murmured.

“What’s best for me and for my family,” Lenore concurred firmly. “And I won’t let anyone else’s opinion of my actions change my mind.”

Deborah wondered if someone else had recently criticized Lenore’s generosity toward her late ex-husband’s child. Were there some who thought the local paragon had been a bit too saintly this time? If so, their opinions obviously made no difference to Lenore. Deborah decided to keep her own opinions to herself from now on, at least where Isabelle was concerned.

“I’m so glad you’re staying a while this time.” Lenore’s smile was uncharacteristically misty for a moment, catching Deborah by surprise with the swift change of mood and subject. “It’s been so long since you were home for more than a long weekend.”

Thinking of her midnight run for the city limits, Deborah shifted guiltily in her seat. “It’s nice to be home,” she said, trying to infuse her voice with sincerity.

“Have you decided yet about your next job?”

Deborah shrugged. “I’m deliberating between offers in Atlanta and Dallas. I’ve enjoyed living in Tampa for the past couple of years, but it feels like time to move on.”

Lenore shook her head. “You’ve lived in three different states since you obtained your degree less than five years ago. When are you going to settle down?”

“Hey, I’m single, unattached and in demand. Might as well try new experiences while I can, right?”

“I suppose so.” Lenore looked doubtful. “But it does seem that you would want to start a family soon. You’ll be twenty-seven in just ten days, you know.”

“Yes, mother. I’m aware of my birth date and exactly how old I will be.”

Her indulgent tone made Lenore smile a bit sheepishly. “Sorry. I suppose I have weddings and grandchildren on my mind these days.”

“No wonder, with both Nathan and Gideon being married so recently. But you’ll just have to be satisfied with those two weddings for a while. I’m in no hurry to complicate my life anytime soon.”

“I hope my divorce from your father hasn’t soured you on the prospect of marriage. Not every marriage ends so painfully. And even though mine did, I have no regrets. Your father and I had many happy years together, and I was blessed with three wonderful children. That more than makes up for any heartaches I might have suffered along the way.”

Since her parents’ divorce had been messy, humiliating and entirely too public, Deborah didn’t know if she could ever reach the level of acceptance about it that Lenore had obtained. But then, she had never claimed to have her mother’s seemingly endless supply of patience, generosity, tolerance and forgiveness. Lenore wasn’t regarded as a saint in these parts without reason.

Because Deborah didn’t want to talk about those unhappy memories now, she abruptly changed the subject. “I’d like another cup of coffee. Do you want me to refill yours while I’m at it?”

“Just a half a cup, please—”

Before Deborah could even make it to the coffeemaker, the telephone rang. Both Deborah and Lenore looked at it in surprise. It seemed awfully early on this Saturday morning for anyone to be calling. Lenore moved to answer it.

Carrying both cups of coffee back to the table, Deborah opened the newspaper that had been sitting beside her plate and perused the headlines, making no effort to overhear her mother’s end of the conversation. She had just turned to the comics page and was smiling at Garfield’s shenanigans when Lenore rejoined her.

Deborah knew with one glance at her mother’s face that the call had been bad news.

Her smile vanished as she set her coffee cup down with a thump. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

For some reason, she had a terrible fear that something had happened to Gideon and Adrienne on their honeymoon. Irrational, of course, since Lenore looked sad, but entirely too calm for such a tragedy, but it was the first thought that popped into Deborah’s mind. After all, her father had died while on a belated honeymoon with his second wife, though she was annoyed with herself for remembering that fact at that particular moment.

Lenore sank into her chair and reached for her coffee. “Caitlin’s mother passed away during the night.”

Deborah was immediately relieved that her brothers were unharmed. Still, she was genuinely sympathetic for her sister-in-law when she said, “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Lenore sighed, her eyes sad. “It’s a blessing, I suppose. The poor dear hasn’t even recognized her daughter for more than a year.”

“Are Caitlin and Nathan going to Jackson to make the arrangements?”

“Yes, they’re leaving later this morning. They’ll be gone for two or three days while they organize the funeral and take care of other final arrangements. With this being a Saturday, there’s not much they can do until business hours Monday morning. Staying in a hotel there will save them from having to be on the road a couple of hours a day, and Caitlin said she would rather be there with her mother until after the funeral on Monday. It will also put them in town to meet with the bank and the nursing-home administrator to settle all the bills and close out the trust funds Caitlin had set up for her mother’s care. Isabelle will be staying here with us, by the way. Caitlin said that would be much more helpful to her than having us attend the funeral service.”

Deborah set her coffee cup down with a thump. “They’re bringing Isabelle here?”

“Of course. You wouldn’t expect them to take a four-year-old to a funeral home, would you?”

What Deborah hadn’t expected was to spend the next few days in the same house with her young half sister. It was awkward enough staying here, anyway, but at least when it was just her and her mother, she could concentrate on the happy memories of her childhood and deliberately refuse to think about the painful dissolution of her family.

That wouldn’t be possible when she was sitting across the breakfast table from the embodied evidence of her father’s betrayal. As often as she had reminded herself that Isabelle was a permanent member of her family, and that the child couldn’t be blamed for her parents’ actions, it was still hard to be completely objective.

“No,” she said a bit stiffly. “Of course they couldn’t take Isabelle with them. But what about the housekeeper? Mrs. Tuckerman?”

“She isn’t a live-in housekeeper. She’s there during daytime hours. And besides, I volunteered to keep Isabelle. It will only be for a few days,” Lenore reminded her. “They’ll probably be back by Monday evening. And Isabelle really is no trouble at all. She’s so behaved.”

Deborah shrugged. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Especially, she added silently, since she intended to keep a polite, but definite, distance between herself and the child. Lenore would be the baby-sitter. Unlike the rest of the family—even Gideon, surprisingly enough—Deborah had no desire to form a close relationship with Isabelle. She simply wasn’t comfortable with children, she told herself—particularly this one.

She had just finished her coffee when the doorbell rang. Lenore hurried to answer it, leaving Deborah to follow somewhat reluctantly. Caitlin, Deborah noted with a searching look at her sister-in-law’s face, was sad, but composed, having resigned herself to this inevitability when her mother had suffered a massive stroke nearly two years ago. Nathan was a bit more subdued than usual, but his smile was still warm when he looked down at the blue-eyed and blond cherub clinging to his hand.

Deborah had been told several times that four-year-old Isabelle was the image of herself at the same age. She’d never known exactly how to respond to the observation, though she acknowledged the family resemblance. Dark-haired, green-eyed Gideon was the only one of Stuart McCloud’s four offspring who hadn’t inherited their father’s bright blue eyes and golden hair. Despite common acceptance that dark hair and eyes tended to be dominant, Deborah had never been surprised that Stuart’s genes had been as forceful and assertive as his personality. Nor did it seem odd to her that Gideon had been the one who was different even from conception.

She stepped toward Caitlin when Lenore moved away to speak to Isabelle. “I’m very sorry about your mother.”

Caitlin squeezed Deborah’s hand. “Thank you. I said goodbye to my mother a long time ago, of course, but I’ll still miss my weekly visits with her at the nursing home, even if I doubt she ever knew I was there.”

“Maybe she was aware you were there, but just couldn’t let you know.”

“Maybe some part of her did know me. It was that possibility that kept me going back every week.”

Nathan slipped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’ll be back in town in a few days,” he told Deborah. “I hope we’ll be able to spend a little time together before you take off again.”

Family was extremely important to Nathan. Deborah knew that if it were up to him, he would keep everyone nearby where he could personally make sure they were all safe and happy. He would never fully understand Deborah’s need to keep moving, content to live almost anywhere except the town where they had grown up.

Fifteen minutes later, Nathan and Caitlin were on their way. Thinking she would spend most of the day in the study with some correspondence and paperwork she needed to deal with, leaving Lenore and Isabelle to entertain each other, Deborah turned toward her mother. Lenore was checking her watch.

“I’ll need to leave in ten minutes or I’ll be late for my meeting,” she said before Deborah could speak. “Isabelle, dear, I’ll be out for a couple of hours, but you’ll be fine here with Deborah.”

Deborah cleared her throat somewhat loudly. “Um, Mother—”

“There’s no need for you to worry about cooking lunch,” Lenore rushed on, seemingly oblivious to the silent signals her daughter was trying to send her. “I’ll pick up something on the way home.”

“But, Mother—”

“I really must go,” Lenore said firmly, her expression making it clear that she had received Deborah’s signals but wasn’t letting them deter her from her plans. “I’m the chair of this committee, and this is a very important meeting. Since you’re here, anyway, there’s really no reason you can’t keep an eye on your sister for a couple of hours.”

All too aware that Isabelle was watching the exchange with wide eyes and a somber expression, Deborah forced a faint smile. “Okay, sure,” she conceded. “We’ll be fine here during your meeting, won’t we, Isabelle?”

The child nodded. “I’ll be good, Nanna,” she promised.

Lenore lightly patted the little girl’s head. “I know you will, dear. You always are.” And then she pointed a finger at Deborah. “You be good, too.”

Isabelle giggled.

Deborah gave another stiff smile. “I’ll certainly try.”

It seemed very quiet in Lenore’s house after her whirlwind departure. Deborah glanced at the little girl gazing expectantly back at her and wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now.

How had this happened? She’d come here to attend her brother’s wedding and then spend a few days with her mother. She had certainly never planned on this!

“So, um, what do you usually do on Saturdays?” she asked.

Isabelle shrugged. “Different things. We shop or go to movies or to the playground. Sometimes we go to the dog store.”

“The, um, dog store?”

Isabelle nodded, golden curls bobbing. “To buy things for Fluffy-Spike, our dog. He’s a bichon. Mrs. T. is going to feed him until Nate and Caitlin get back home.”

Deborah knew who Mrs. T. was—the indispensable Fayrene Tuckerman, who served as housekeeper, cook and daytime nanny in Nathan’s busy household. But… “Did you say Fluffy-Spike?”

Isabelle giggled again. “I wanted to name him Fluffy and Nate kept calling him Spike because he thought it was a funny name for a little white dog, so now we call him Fluffy-Spike. That’s funny, isn’t it?”

It was the sort of name one would expect for a dog belonging to Nathan, Deborah thought with a shake of her head. Her impulsive and often irrepressible eldest brother had rarely been accused of being predictable. He’d taken his little sister into his home as casually and impetuously as he had the recently adopted dog.

Isabelle had always called her older brother Nate. Lenore had told Deborah that there had been some discussion prior to Nathan’s wedding of Isabelle calling Caitlin and Nathan Mom and Dad, since they would be raising her as their own, but that hadn’t felt right to any of them. They had finally decided there was no reason Isabelle shouldn’t call her brother and sister-in-law by their first names, though she was expected to obey them with the same respect she would have given her own parents.

It would be a casual, laughter-filled household, Deborah predicted. And yet there would be order, thanks to the briskly efficient housekeeper and to Caitlin, who was much more structured and organized than Nathan. Still, Deborah had been rather surprised by how well Nathan had adjusted to parenthood. He definitely indulged Isabelle, but stopped short of outright spoiling her. Deborah had heard him speak firmly to his little sister on a couple of rare occasions when she had needed correcting.

Deborah had no such confidence in her own child-care skills. She didn’t have a clue what to do with the kid for the rest of the morning, for example.

Gossip traveled quickly through Honesty, and Dylan heard most of it courtesy of his aunt Myra, wife of his uncle, Owen Smith, the town’s police chief. Myra could hardly wait to phone Dylan with the news that Nathan and Caitlin McCloud had been called out of town, leaving Lenore and Deborah to watch little Isabelle. Rumor had it that Deborah was baby-sitting that day while Lenore went about her usual busy Saturday schedule.

“I’m surprised Deborah agreed,” Myra added. “She never forgave her father, you know, and most folks said she was pretty mad at her brother for bringing that little girl back here.”

Dylan had no intention of discussing Deborah or her family with his aunt, who was well aware of the history between them. “Was there anything else you needed from me? Because I go back on duty in an hour and I—”

“No, that was all.” Myra sounded disappointed that he hadn’t risen to her gossip bait. “I just thought you would want to know what’s going on with Deborah.”

“It’s really none of my business. I lost interest in the McClouds a long time ago, Aunt Myra.”

It was a bald-faced lie, of course, he mused as he replaced the receiver in its cradle a few moments later. Though he’d made a massive effort to get over her, Deborah was the one McCloud who still interested him very much.

Not that he intended to do anything about it. Only a fool would deliberately stick his hand into the fire a second time.