She paced in front of the window, stopping occasionally to peer out. Nothing moved other than a jackrabbit that darted from the corner of the house toward the empty corral. No doubt it wished it could glance into the sky to see if an owl soared above. She knew the feeling of waiting for a predator to strike.
When the scratch came at the door, she froze. Had the intruder gained entrance? Had he hurt Clay? Then she heard Clay’s soft whisper and ran to move the chair out of the way. When she unlocked the door, he opened it.
“All clear,” he whispered. He drew her into the hall and led her to the kitchen, where a light chased away the shadows.
“Did you see anything?”
His jaw hardened. “Footprints outside our bedroom window. Fresh ones.”
She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the table. “So I wasn’t dreaming. I didn’t think so, but it was so surreal.”
“What did you see and hear?”
She straightened and hugged herself. “First I heard scratching. Like a fingernail on the screen. Then someone whispered my name. That was it. I was too afraid to move the curtain and look out.”
“Good.” He rubbed his bristly chin. “I’m going to have to tell Rick tomorrow.”
“Everything?”
“I think so. We have to protect the girls. And you seem to be a particular target.”
“Should I call him tonight?”
“No use in disturbing him. There’s no one out there now.” He stared at her, his eyes intensely blue. “I want to investigate Daniel.”
Her gratitude that he was taking this seriously vanished. “There’s no need. He would never do anything to hurt me.”
“I don’t share your confidence.”
“He was angry when I talked to him, but it’s not him, Clay.” She knew her lifelong friend. Her brother. Nothing Clay said would make her believe Daniel would harm her. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What if this person wants to hurt you through me?” As soon as she said the words, she realized how ludicrous they were. To hurt him through her would mean he cared. And he didn’t.
He pulled out a chair and had her sit down. “I got some hate mail after that incident in Colombia. But this person seems very venomous toward you in particular. While hurting you would hurt me, you’d think he’d send me a warning too.”
“Hurting you would hurt me.” Did he really care that much? She watched him step to the refrigerator and pull out the milk. He poured her a glass before pouring one for himself. Why had she never noticed how giving he was? The answer came to her quickly. He hadn’t been around enough.
18
CLAY’S EYES FELT GRITTY. THE BUNKHOUSE WAS QUIET FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HOURS. ZEKE and Della had taken the older girls on a hike. The younger girls were on an outing with the vet, Shannon MacGowan. She and her husband had two daughters a couple of years older than their girls.
He stopped short in his walk across the spindly grass between the sleeping quarters and the ranch house. Their girls. The children had crept into his heart already.
Eden glanced up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really. I was just thinking about how often I think of the kids as our girls.”
She smiled, her face tender. “Me too. I love them so much already.”
“You ready to tell Rick and Allie about all this?”
“Do you think they’ll kick us out?”
“They might, but I don’t think we have a choice now. The girls’ safety is too important.” He held out his hand and she took it.
They found Allie and Rick in the kitchen still drinking coffee. Rita was nowhere to be seen. Tepin was doing the dishes, her face impassive, as though she were alone.
Rick pushed a chair out with his foot. “Have a seat, friends. You look like a mule dragged you both through a patch of cholla.”
Clay pulled out another chair and let Eden take the one nearest Allie. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Another bed-wetting?” Allie’s dark eyes were full of mischief. “You two are getting broken in right off.” She rose and poured them each a cup of coffee.
“I wish it were that benign,” Clay said.
Allie sobered and sat back down before glancing at Rick. “You’re not quitting, are you?”
“Oh no! We love working with the children,” Eden said.
Rick leaned back in the chair with his coffee in his hand. “Then what’s up?”
“There was an intruder outside the bunkhouse last night.”
Every trace of geniality vanished from Rick’s face. He put his coffee down. “What happened? Who was it?”
Clay laced his fingers together. “We don’t know, but there’s more to our story than we’ve told you, and it’s time we did.”
Rick leaned forward in his chair. “What are you saying?” His voice was troubled.
“Five years ago our daughter, Brianna, was kidnapped. She was six weeks old, and we never saw her again.” His voice quavered and he cleared his throat.
Allie put her hand to her mouth and her eyes welled. “Oh no! I can’t imagine something so awful.”
Rick nodded. “I knew that much.”
“You never told me?” Allie asked.
“Brendan knows Clay, remember? He told me in confidence.” Rick glanced back at Clay. “I can see how the experience would give you a heart for the hurting kids here at the ranch. Is the tragedy related somehow?”
Clay cleared the thickening in his throat and nodded. “Somehow I never believed she was dead.”
“I did,” Eden put in. “I gave up, tried to move on. Most of the time I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it. Then I’d see a mother with a baby or walk by a zoo and remember all the things I wanted to show Brianna but never got a chance.”
Rick’s gaze was sober. “So this intruder—?”
“I’m not quite to that part of the story yet. Hang on.” This would be the tricky part, convincing Rick to let them stay when they hadn’t revealed the real reason they were here. But the Baileys had children. Surely they could understand the lengths a dad would go to for his daughter. Clay glanced at Eden.
She gave a quick nod in his direction and took over the narration. “Clay got a picture a couple of weeks ago.”
The wonder of it hit Clay again. He took a quick sip of coffee to swallow down the lump in his throat. “He sent me this.” Taking the picture of the girls from his pocket, he slid it across the table to the Baileys.
Allie snatched it up first and stared at the smiling faces. “Our girls?”
Rick took it and studied it as well. “What do the girls have to do with this?”
“Look at the back,” Clay said.
Rick flipped it over and looked even more grave. Allie’s eyes widened. “So Brianna is alive!” Her voice trembled. She leaned over and took Eden’s hand.
Eden squeezed her fingers and smiled. “She is.” Her eyes were misty. “Truly a miracle.”
Clay pointed at the picture. “One of those girls is our Brianna.”
The Baileys froze in place. They exchanged a long glance with each other. Clay couldn’t tell if they were judging his motives or the truthfulness of what he’d said.
Rick gave the photograph another stare, then handed it back. “No wonder you were interested in how they came to be here. Do you have any idea which one?”
“I called to get paternity DNA tests sent here. I had planned to wait on the results of full-profile tests, which I sent in after we arrived, but I realized we could get paternity and maternity tests done much more quickly. They would tell us all we needed to know.”
Rick’s scowl deepened as Clay spoke. “Are you even who you say you are?”
Clay had been expecting the question, and he didn’t blame the other man. “I haven’t lied about anything, Rick. Both Brendan and Michael vouched for me. I’m laying out everything now.”
“The lie of omission is just as great.” Rick didn?
??t smile. “You only came here to find your daughter. I’m not okay with that. We’re here to help these kids. Most of them have been through things we can’t even imagine.”
“Would you have hired us if I’d told you all of it?”
“No. I would have thought you were some kind of wackos.”
Allie jumped to her feet. “Rick, we have to help them! I realize it would have been better if they’d told us, but—”
“But we wouldn’t have hired them,” Rick said, his mouth a grim line.
Allie put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Maybe not. But they’re doing a great job with the girls.”
“There’s more,” Clay said. “And what else we have to tell you may convince you that you’re right to throw us out. But I pray you won’t. Our family’s future is in your hands.”
Eden clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “He’s here. The kidnapper. He scratched on the window last night and whispered my name. In town the other day he called me on the phone and threatened to take her again.”
Allie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Eden, no!”
“You expected him to be here, didn’t you? That this was a trap?”
Clay nodded. “I’d thought he’d want money or something. Instead he seems to be taunting Eden.”
Rick stared at Eden. “Is this true?”
Eden nodded. “He said I would have no one to blame but myself. Then he asked me if I knew who I really was. We don’t know what that means. But we have to protect Brianna.”
“You don’t know which of the girls is Brianna,” Allie said.
Clay nodded. “We need your help.”
Rick rubbed his forehead. He stared at Clay, then Eden. “I’m inclined to make you leave. Your being here puts those kids in danger.”
“Rick, no!” Allie cried. “Think how it would be if Matthew or Betsy had been taken. We have to help. Call the sheriff. We can protect them. With us all working together, we’ll solve this and reunite a family.”
“And if we leave, that leaves Brianna even more unprotected,” Clay said.
Rick glanced at his wife and his brow furrowed. “I suppose you’re right. And whichever girl is their daughter, she deserves to be with her parents and not in foster care. What can we do, Clay?”
“I think we need to talk to Brendan,” he said. A surge of adrenaline hit him now that he had help.
The Reata restaurant almost looked like a house except for the enormous R over the front door. A horseshoe dangled from the loop at the bottom of the R. Eden got out of the truck and walked on shaky legs to the entrance with Clay.
“We’re a little early,” he said as they stepped inside. He asked the hostess for as much privacy as they could get.
“It’s pretty,” Eden whispered when the hostess led them through the cowboy-decor room. The walls were painted in mottled warm browns and tans, and the doorway trim was a terra-cotta color. The hostess took them through the restaurant to the patio. Large cowboy murals decorated the side of the building. They were seated at a secluded table under a trellis on the patio. Grasses and yucca softened the surrounding buildings and made an oasis outside.
Eden toyed with her tableware. “Let’s go, Clay. We don’t have to stay.”
“Calm down. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.” He gave the waitress, a smiling Hispanic woman, their drink order.
A couple stepped through the doors into the courtyard. Eden recognized the woman in an instant. The reddish hair. The slim build. Her mother hadn’t even aged that much. She had the beautiful, unlined skin that Eden remembered so well. The peach suit she wore was impeccably fitted, and she wore it with style. The couple paused and scanned the courtyard. Eden sat frozen in place. She couldn’t rise, couldn’t speak.
Clay glanced at her. “That them?” When she nodded, he rose and beckoned to them.
Her mother’s smile was tentative and didn’t quite reach her eyes. She followed the man across the terra-cotta tile to the table. “Eden?”
Eden had heard that voice in her dreams. It was softer now, not as demanding. She found her tongue. “Hello, Mom.” She cleared her throat and willed herself to stand, to embrace the older woman, who stood with her hands awkwardly in front of her.
Her mother glanced at the man beside her. Tall and distinguished, he appeared to be in his fifties, maybe ten years older than her mother. Or maybe it was the wings of gray at his temples that made him seem older. His mustache held a little gray as well. His genial smile revealed white teeth. Eden focused on his open grin rather than on her mother’s pleading gaze. Something about him seemed familiar.
Clay pulled out a chair for her mother beside Eden. “Have a seat.”
The breeze sent a familiar scent to Eden. Chanel No. 5. Instantly she was back in her mother’s bedroom watching her spritz a liberal amount of the expensive perfume on her wrists and the back of her neck. Why had Eden agreed to this meeting? She should have run the other way. What good could come from this?
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 fi
rst 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.”