A Conard County Baby Page 9

  * * *

  “What’s the surprise?” Angie demanded once the dishwasher was full and the casserole dishes had been washed.

  Hope smiled. “You have to promise to listen to me on this. I’ve had bunches of experience so I won’t mislead you, okay?”

  Angie, still looking sour despite the spark of interest in her eyes, nodded. “Okay.”

  Hope ran upstairs and got her big makeup case. When she returned to the kitchen carrying it, Angie eyed it curiously, the sourness disappearing from her face.

  “You’re thirteen,” Hope said. “Time to learn about makeup. But you have to promise me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That you won’t wear it to school without your dad’s permission. And that you won’t overdo it. The secret of makeup is for it to look so natural it doesn’t stand out.”

  “Then why wear it?”

  “Well, you don’t have to. You’re pretty enough as you are. But it can add a glow to your face if you do it right. You want people to wonder why you look so good without them knowing it’s because you’ve done a few little things, okay?”

  “It’s like a secret?”

  “Close to it. As we get older, we seem to need a little more of it, but at your age...well, you’ve already got all the beauty of youth. You don’t need to hide it—you want to highlight it.”

  All resistance had vanished from Angie’s face and her excitement became obvious as Hope opened the large case and displayed its contents. Expensive cosmetics, once de rigueur for Hope, became a young girl’s dream.

  * * *

  Giggling and laughter, such an unusual sound in this house, drew Cash back down the hall, and he peered around the corner to see what was going on.

  A fancy lighted mirror stood on his kitchen table, and Hope and Angie were busy with big brushes and cakes that he recognized as makeup. An instant resistance awoke in him. Angie was too young. Then he realized she wasn’t too young at all, and Hope was gently encouraging her to keep it light, not to hide her natural beauty.

  It also became quickly clear that they were experimenting, hence the giggles.

  “Now I look like a clown,” Angie tittered.

  Hope passed her a pad from a jar. “Not quite, but close. See what I mean about too much?”

  Angie took the pad and wiped away the stuff around her eyes. “Just this or all of it?”

  Hope leaned back and looked. “All of it. I was wrong about the base color. You don’t want to look like you just got jaundice.”

  Angie flipped a switch and the lighting on the mirror dimmed. “It doesn’t look so bad in this light.”

  “But you’re not going out at night. Let’s get back to daytime. Right now that’s mostly when you’d want to wear it.”

  Cash stepped back and returned to his office, trying not to make the floorboards creak. The laughter followed him, and he wound up smiling. Maybe that young woman could help his daughter, after all.

  He resumed his seat and tried to focus on his work, but instead his thoughts drifted to Hope. His desire for her just kept erupting into his awareness like an unpredictable volcano.

  Suck it up, he told himself. The woman was pregnant and recently raped. He’d almost bet that had more to do with her nervousness this morning about seeing the doctor than fear of a scolding.

  But whatever she had feared this morning, tonight she was bringing Angie out of her shell. He just hoped it would last and not disappear the instant she saw him again. If it took letting his daughter wear makeup to school, then he was prepared to allow it. That girl needed something to feel good about.

  * * *

  “I didn’t know it took so much practice,” Angie said an hour or so later as they were cleaning up.

  “It takes lots of practice,” Hope agreed. “Finally it gets to the point where it’s almost automatic, but at first it’s lots of work. We can practice every night if you want, after you get your homework done.”

  “I need to talk Dad into getting me my own makeup.”

  “I have a ton of it. You’re welcome to keep whatever you use after the practice is done.”

  “Really?” Angie’s eyes lit up. “But what about you?”

  “I don’t think I’m ever again going to wear so much makeup. I kind of like not having it on.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Maybe it’s partly that now I don’t have to be afraid to touch my face. Or maybe it’s just the new me. Come on, let’s see what your dad thinks of the new you.”

  Angie’s face shadowed immediately. “He won’t like it. He thinks I’m a kid still. I bet he says I can’t wear it to school.”

  “Maybe so. But you keep getting older, right?”

  But even Hope felt trepidation. She had done this without clearing it with Cash, and he wouldn’t be the first father in the world who didn’t want his young daughter wearing makeup. In fact, he might be furious. “I’ll get him.”

  “Just don’t tell him why. You said it had to be almost invisible, so let’s see if it is.”

  Oh, great, thought Hope. There was a difference between invisible and none. To her it was obvious Angie was wearing some makeup. Not anything strong or glaring, but clearly she had done something to her face.

  She headed down the hall and found Cash’s door open. He was staring at a computer screen. “Got a moment, Cash?”

  “Sure.” He turned his chair and smiled. “It sounded like you two were having a great time.”

  “Girl stuff. And yes, we were.”

  He stood and followed her down the hall. Except for Hope’s case, all sign of the makeup was gone.

  Angie was leaning against the counter, her arms folded as if she expected trouble, but she lifted her face defiantly. In her eyes, Hope could see her eagerness for approval. She hoped Cash could, as well.

  But somehow he handled it beautifully. “Angie! Did you change your hair or something? You look different, but I like it.”

  “It’s makeup,” she answered defiantly, but the hope blooming on her face was almost painful to behold.

  “Makeup? Really?” He stepped a little closer. “I couldn’t really tell, but...I like it. You look even better than you normally do, and you’re always pretty.”

  Angie’s expression cracked a little. The corners of her mouth edged upward. “I want to wear it to school. Tomorrow. The other girls do.”

  “I don’t care about the other girls,” he said. But just as Angie’s face began to sag a little, he added, “Yes, you can wear it to school. It’s very tasteful. Did Hope show you how to do that?”

  Angie nodded, and a smile began to dawn on her face. “Yes. So I can wear it to school? Really?”

  “Really,” he agreed, smiling. “As long as you don’t go all black lipstick and eye shadow on me.”

  Angie let out a happy whoop and dashed from the room, calling over her shoulder that she was going to call Mary Lou right now.

  Cash looked at Hope. “Mary Lou?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe she’s starting to make friends.”

  He stared upward. “God, I hope so.”

  “I hope you’re not mad at me for doing this without clearing it with you.”

  He lowered his gaze to her face. “This is the first time I’ve heard that kind of laughter in this house for longer than I can remember. I’m grateful to you.”

  Hope nearly sagged with relief. The decision to do this had been an impulse, one she couldn’t take back from the instant she had promised Angie a surprise. Nevertheless, once she had begun, she’d been constantly aware that she might be headed for trouble. She’d gone to school with plenty of girls whose parents had a problem with even the lightest dash of lipstick at this age.

  She felt an urge to tell Cash
that he’d handled it all beautifully, but withheld the words. It wasn’t her place to offer opinions on his parenting. Instead, she cherished the glow he’d given her.

  The first time he’d heard laughter in this house in forever? Now that was sad beyond description.

  * * *

  Pregnancy seemed to be making Hope tired. She retired early with a novel from Cash’s library and curled up under warm covers to read by the bedside lamp. She drifted off quickly, before she had read more than a couple of pages.

  But later, much later, she woke with a start and a sense of panic. She had trouble remembering where she was for a few seconds, and it took even longer for her heart rate to slow. What had she been dreaming?

  As the lonely wind keened around the house, occasionally rattling her window, she huddled under the blankets, grateful the lamp was still on, trying to sort out reality from the nightmare. Dark figures had been chasing her, threatening her. She seemed to remember Scott’s face in the mix somewhere. Well, she hardly needed to be a psychologist to figure that one out.

  But she was safe now. Scott couldn’t possibly want her anymore. She had fled him, in a way that left no doubt that she wasn’t just a little “upset” about what he’d done. Much better for him to play the jilted fiancé who couldn’t understand why she had left him than to drag her back to a place where she might just tell the truth. And even if he managed to deflect her claim of rape, it would haunt his entire future with questions.

  So she was safe, she assured herself. If she’d been willing to settle down, stop making wild accusations and marry him that would have been different. But now... Now it was better for him if she just didn’t come back.

  All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and stay away—and she was perfectly willing to do that. She felt no particular desire for revenge. All she wanted to do was hide like a little mouse somewhere and bring up her child.

  Maybe someday she’d even find a man who could truly love her and love her child. Was that too much to ask?

  Now, however, she was wide-awake. Giving up finally, she unpacked her warmest robe and slippers and crept downstairs to make a cup of tea. There was too much going on inside her head, and none of it would leave her alone.

  Scott. Well, he was starting to truly feel like the past. But there was Angie and all her problems, and Cash, who seemed to be working harder than any man should. What’s more, she clearly saw the flashes of pain and perplexity on his face when he looked at his daughter. Tonight had been the very first time she had felt a tenuous connection between them. Something to savor?

  She hoped so. She hoped tomorrow wouldn’t return to the icy wasteland she had seen between them in the past week.

  Then there was her own reaction to Cash. He had begun to loom large on her radar. It honestly amazed her that she could feel attraction to a man after all that had happened, but she did. A strong and growing attraction.

  His admission that he found her desirable had done nothing to frighten her, and little to help her banish her own awareness of him. Amazingly enough, she cherished his attraction to her deep inside.

  Given what had happened to her with Scott, that seemed strange. She ought to feel repelled, and wondered why she didn’t. Instead, knowing that he found her desirable had somehow made her feel better about herself. Maybe the rape and the way her family had treated her had left her feeling permanently soiled. Ruined. Unworthy.

  She couldn’t quite understand herself, but she knew what she was feeling. Cash had returned to her something that she seemed to have lost.

  Of course, it wasn’t enough to attract a man, or be attractive. She understood that. But a tiny healing had taken place, just a small one, in the gaping wound the past few months had inflicted on her. Cash didn’t look at her and see a threat that needed to be dealt with. He saw a woman, a pregnant woman, and still found her appealing.

  It was a good feeling.

  She carried her tea into the living room, switched a lamp on low and curled up in a corner of the couch. The house felt chilly, so she tugged the afghan that hung over the back of the sofa and tucked it around herself.

  The tea created a ball of warmth in her stomach, and she hoped she might doze off right here. It was a friendly room, welcoming with its well-used furnishings and bright colors. Very different from the house where she had grown up surrounded by the best and always kept up-to-date and in perfect shape. Her bedroom had been the only space that she had controlled, and even there, the minute she went out, one of the maids would swoop in to pick up after her. Privacy had been something she had barely been able to imagine.

  Others, people she didn’t know and wasn’t supposed to talk to, had handled and touched everything she owned. The staff was supposed to be invisible, and they had been for years. Now, like Sleeping Beauty, she had wakened to a changed world, one that made her squirm a bit uncomfortably when she recalled that not only had she taken wealth for granted, she had taken people for granted. Live human beings.

  “God,” she whispered, and pulled the afghan closer around her shoulders. People like Hattie, who was being so helpful to her now. Except that in the Conroy household, the staff had not only been invisible, but they couldn’t speak English. For the first time she wondered if that had been deliberate. Or maybe just cheaper.

  At this point, little would have surprised her. She had seen the ugly side of her own parents, and if they had one ugly side they might have others.

  What kind of illusion had she grown up in?

  “Hope?”

  Cash’s voice startled her out of her reverie. She looked up to see him standing in the doorway, clad in jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair was tousled, his face unshaven and his boots had given way to socks.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “So nothing’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I’m just remembering, and thinking that so much of my life looks different now. Like my view had been skewed.”

  “Then or now?”

  “Then. Maybe.”

  He hesitated. “Want some company?”

  “But you need your sleep!”

  “I was awake, too. That’s why I came down when I heard someone stirring. But I don’t want to intrude. It’s fine if you’d rather be alone.”

  She barely needed to think about it. She enjoyed Cash’s companionship, possibly too much for her own good. “I’d like the company.”

  “Give me a couple. I need some coffee. You?”

  “I’m having tea in the hopes it won’t keep me awake.”

  He laughed. “I’m giving up. But don’t hesitate to doze off if you feel like it.”

  He disappeared, leaving her to wonder if he might help derail her thoughts. It would be entirely too easy to fall into the blues if she spent too much time remembering. If she started wondering if her parents had ever loved her at all, or if they had seen her primarily as a social tool.

  Cash returned soon with a mug of coffee. This time he sat on the other end of the couch from her, and not in his easy chair. That was fine by her. The way she was curled up, that made it easier for her to look at him, and she did enjoy looking at him.

  “So what made you feel skewed?” he asked.

  So much for avoiding that train of thought. She hesitated. “It’s hard to explain. I think I grew up in a bubble.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I was the center of my own little universe. Wealth makes that easy, I guess. Anyway, now that I’ve had to fight that bubble and run away from it, it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.”

  “Are you sorry it’s gone?”

  “Part of me is, but most of me is glad to be rid of it. Reality check time.”

  “But the bubble didn’t protect you from everything,” he said gen
tly.

  “Clearly.” She felt her baby stir, as yet just faint movements, but very, very real to her. Beneath the afghan she placed a hand over her stomach.

  “My mother crocheted that afghan,” he remarked.

  “Oh! Is it all right for me to use?”

  “Of course.” He smiled over his mug and took a sip. “She didn’t make them to hang in a museum. I have one upstairs in my room, and I gave one to Angie. Mom liked to crochet, said it kept her hands busy in the evenings. If you want the truth, I think it kept her warm, too.” He laughed quietly. “As soon as the temperature started to drop in the fall, she’d go buy plenty of yarn and start another afghan. I lost count of how many she gave away to her friends and for church fund-raisers. Anyway, by the time she started to complain that the house was draughty and she was cold, there’d be this partly finished afghan spread across her lap keeping her warm.”

  “Well, that’s one way to do it.” Hope smiled, imagining it. “You told me about your father’s passing. What happened to your mother?”

  “She liked to go on long rides when she could. One day she didn’t come back, but her horse did. Unfortunately, it took us the better part of twenty-four hours to find her. She’d taken a fall, although we never knew for sure if something startled her mount and it threw her, or if she’d dismounted and then slipped. Either way...” He shrugged.

  “Hence the rule about never riding alone.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Cash. How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Hope could only shake her head, feeling sorrow for him. This man had never had an easy life, quite a contrast to her.

  When he didn’t speak again for a while, she tried to reach out to him with sympathy. “You’ve had a hard life.”

  He looked at her. “You think so? I don’t.”

  “You don’t?” That surprised her, especially as she had just been contrasting her own life of ease with his.

  “Nope,” he said firmly. “Hope, I’m pushing forty. Most men my age could tote up the same losses. Parents? Check. One divorce? Check. The normal course of life. If you ask me, you’re the one who got the raw deal. Maybe you were in a bubble before, but it got ripped away from you in a horrible, terrible way. Now you’re out here on your own trying to tame my daughter while carrying a child inside you. A single mom. No, that’s a lot harder than my life, and it all came crashing down on you at once.”