With Family In Mind (Saddle Falls Book 1) (11 page)

Her eyelids slid shut as the present mingled with the past. A chill washed over her when she heard her mother’s voice.

“Becca? Where are you? Mama’s got a man friend coming over tonight. You go on to your room now and stay in there, hear? Read your schoolbooks or something.”

Taking a long, slow breath, Rebecca rubbed her arms, chilled in spite of the long sleeves of her blouse.

“Becca, you be a good girl, now. Mama’s gotta go out tonight. And stop that whining! There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re seven, more than old enough to stay alone for a few hours so Mama can go out and have some fun. You want Mama to have fun, don’t you, baby?”

The chill became a slick coating of icy terror. Taking a slow, deep breath through her nose to stop the panic that threatened, Rebecca’s heart leaped into her throat when she smelled the scent of her mother’s cologne, as fresh and fragrant as if she’d just walked past her through the room.

“Becca? Listen to me. Mama’s gotta go away for a little while. You go on with this nice lady, and don’t be no trouble, hear? Now, don’t you be crying like a baby before I give you something to cry about! I’ll come get you soon as I can. Promise.”

Rebecca’s eyes opened and she blinked to clear her vision. She glanced around, surprised to find she was all alone.

“Don’t worry, Rebecca. Mama will come get you soon as I can. Go along now, girl. And don’t be no trouble.”

Lies.

Blinking, Rebecca clenched her fists, as tears filled her eyes. It had all been lies. Everything her mother had promised that day, the last day she’d ever seen her, had been cruel, deliberate lies.

Her mother had never intended to come back for her.

Rebecca knew and understood that. But why couldn’t she accept it? She didn’t know. No matter how hard she’d tried to please, to be the perfect little girl, the perfect daughter, so her mother would want her, love her, somewhere deep in her fragile heart she had known all along it had been hopeless.

As an adult, she had finally come to accept what she hadn’t been able to as a child. But with acceptance came the pain of loss, of sorrow so deep it seared her fragile heart.

Her mother had never intended to come back for her.
Why?

The word seemed to echo in Rebecca’s mind as if she’d actually spoken it aloud.

Why?

Margaret had abandoned her own daughter as if she were no more important than yesterday’s newspaper.

Why?

They were the same questions Rebecca had been asking herself for years.

How could her mother have simply forgotten her?

She didn’t know, and now that her mother was gone, she’d never know.

Shaking with the strength of emotions the memories evoked, Rebecca forced herself to walk slowly through the rooms, letting the memories come, knowing she had to face the ghosts of her past if she were ever to have a future.

She pushed at the door to what had once been her bedroom. It creaked ominously in the quiet house, as if opening the door released the memories hidden there.

The room smelled of furniture polish and disinfectant. She went to the window, pulled back the crisp, clean curtains and found herself staring.

On the window, faded with age, was a sticker she had pasted on one corner of the pane one night when her mother had company and Rebecca had been sent to her room to study. She’d sat on her little bed and carefully looked through the book of stickers she’d bought the weekend before, when she’d gone into town with her mother.

The five-and-dime had been selling bright-colored sticker books. And she’d desperately wanted one, so she’d done extra chores to earn the money, and finally had enough to buy the pretty little book.

She remembered hugging it close to her on the bus ride home, waiting until she was in the privacy of her own bedroom before reverently studying each sticker, running her fingers over the bright colors, the beautiful designs, trying to choose just the right one to put in her window.

Now, looking at the sun-faded sticker, she gently traced the outline with her finger and smiled.

Such a small thing, but so important to a lonely little girl.

She wondered what had happened to that sticker book. Glancing around, she remembered that the Social Services people had refused to let her take anything other than her clothes with her when they’d taken her away that morning.

She’d had to leave it behind.

Along with everything else that mattered to her, she thought, swallowing around the boulder-size lump in
her throat. She’d left everything behind the day she’d left here: her hopes, her dreams and especially her innocence.

Rubbing her chilled arms again, Rebecca walked out of her old bedroom and into the one that had been her mother’s. There was nothing at all left of hers. The room was empty except for a single utilitarian bed and bureau in a dark, sturdy oak.

She leaned against the doorjamb, remembering how she would stand in the doorway, watching her mother put on her makeup and fix her hair whenever she’d been going out—which was often.

There used to be an old dressing table in one corner, one her mother had bought at a garage sale. The mirror was so old and scarred that the silver backing was peeling away in the corners, so that she could see herself only if she looked in the middle.

Suddenly, Rebecca remembered another memory. One evening she’d been standing behind her mom, leaning over her shoulder as she got ready to go out.

Rebecca had wanted to see her reflection next to her mother’s, something all little girls did, she believed.

But she couldn’t see it.

It was as if she weren’t even there, because that part of the mirror where her image would have been had cracked, and the reflective agent had peeled away.

Even then she’d been invisible to her mother, she thought sadly, as she turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut firmly behind her.

This was one room of the house she would never use.

Too many ghosts; too many memories.

Slipping her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she walked back into the living room. It was almost a perfect square, and flowed directly into the small kitchen. A large rug covered part of the wooden floor. A sturdy couch with a matching chair in a brown-and-blue plaid nearly filled the small room. At each end of the couch and next to the chair were sturdy side tables. Each had a small porcelain lamp on it.

She walked to one of the small tables and turned on the lamp. The area was flooded with a soft, diffused light that cast warm shadows across the floor and wall.

With her hand still on the lamp, she raised her head and squinted.

“Becca, turn off those damn lights. You’re wasting electricity. You think I’m made of money, girl? If you didn’t always have your nose stuck in a book, you wouldn’t need to be burning the lights all the time. Now turn that light off!”

Pressing her hands to her ears and fearing her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer, she sank down on the couch, trying to stop the memories and block the emotions she’d locked up inside for so many years.

A deep, racking sob took her by surprise, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Like the wall of water from a shattered dam, memories and pain rushed over her, too fast to stop.

Tears spilled from her eyes, sliding unheeded down her cheeks as she began to rock back and forth, to hold herself, as if she could hold the pain and the memories inside.

She couldn’t.

Not this time.

“Mama, why?”

The words sobbed out of her in a small, frightened voice she didn’t recognize.

“Why did you leave me?”

She rocked harder, faster, holding herself tighter.

“Why did you lie to me?”
Pain poured out of her in a low, keening moan.
“Why didn’t you love me enough to come back for me?”

W
hen Rebecca didn’t show up for dinner the next night, Jake decided he’d better go check things out, make sure she’d gotten settled in okay. Although the little carriage house was within walking distance of the main ranch house, he decided to drive.

When he pulled up, he was surprised to find all the lights blazing. With a frown, he got out of the car, wondering why Rebecca hadn’t shown up for dinner.

He had a niggling sense of guilt, wondering if it was because he’d kissed her yesterday afternoon.

But she was a grown woman. Certainly she couldn’t have been scared off by one kiss?

It had been, he acknowledge, one hell of a kiss, but certainly not any reason for her to simply not show up for dinner tonight.

Maybe he should have come over to help her settle
in, he mused, but he’d had some things of his own to take care of in the past twenty-four hours.

So, not certain what was going on, and still a little nervous about having Rebecca there, writing about his family, he’d decided to come investigate.

He’d fixed a plate of food for her, knowing she probably hadn’t eaten, if her appetite at lunch yesterday was any indication.

As he climbed the steps of the house, carefully juggling the plate of food and the handle of a cooler he’d loaded with soft drinks, a bottle of wine and a couple of cold beers, he heard the soft strains of classical music, and paused for a moment to listen as the beautiful notes drifted sweetly through the air.

The music suited her. It was a soft, melodious tune, yet hauntingly beautiful in a way that made the notes echo in his mind long after they’d drifted away.

Like the way Rebecca had lingered in his mind long after she’d walked away yesterday.

Shaking off the thought, Jake lifted his hand to knock on the door. When his knock went unanswered, he tried the handle, surprised to find the door unlocked.

“Rebecca?” With a worried frown, he stepped inside and was surprised to find his heart leap at the sight of her. She was sitting at one of the small kitchen chairs, her head bent over a laptop, her face creased in concentration as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

A portable file drawer sat next to her, along with a mound of newspaper clippings and a sheaf of handwritten notes.

Every once in a while she’d stop typing to lift up
a piece of paper, scowl at it through her reading glasses, then drop it to the other side of her laptop and continue typing.

He stood there for a moment mesmerized, realizing there was something about this particular woman that got to him as no other. Just the sight of her sent his blood pressure soaring.

But then again, she was one helluva sight, he decided, leisurely studying her. Her hair was down now, and spilled over her shoulders like a beautiful ebony curtain, curling willfully, wantonly at the ends, making him itch to touch it, caress it, feel it slide sensuously through his fingers.

She wore a pair of curve-hugging denim leggings and a huge gray sweatshirt splattered here and there with bright dabs of paint. The sleeves were apparently too long, so she’d rolled them up to her elbows, and occasionally shoved at them as she typed away.

She had one leg curled up under her and was wagging her bare foot in time to the music. The music was louder in here, but still diffused, making him glance toward one of the bedrooms. Her CD player or stereo must be in there, he decided, then realized with a frown she didn’t look very settled in.

There was nothing out of place, but nothing seemed to have been added. There was nothing of hers anywhere, except for the area where she was working.

It looked like a battle zone, he thought with a grin. On the floor under the table, under her chair and scattered around her were wadded up pieces of paper she’d apparently flung haphazardly. A pile of books
were stacked on the floor nearby, one volume listing to the side, ready to topple off.

Shaking his head, he started toward her, aware that she probably hadn’t a clue that he was there.

“Rebecca?” He paused to set the plate of food on a table in the living room and the cooler on the floor, before continuing on into the kitchen. She still hadn’t moved, nor did she give any indication she knew he was there, until he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Rebecca?”

She let loose a high-pitched screech and leaped to her feet, toppling her chair over as she whirled toward him, fists raised in the air, primed for battle.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Laughing, he reached for her fists and closed his hands over them, not certain what she thought she was going to do with those tiny, delicate weapons. “It’s just me, Slick. Calm down.”

“Jake.” Gasping, she yanked free of him and placed a hand on her thudding heart. “What are you doing here?” She scowled at him, annoyed. She was still shaky about her reactions yesterday, and her nerves were frayed. “Don’t you believe in knocking? You scared the daylights out of me.”

Rebecca took a slow, deep breath, trying to get her heart rate under control. She refused to acknowledge that part of the increase in her pulse was from seeing him again.

“You did a little scaring of your own with that screeching,” he said, patting his startled heart. He had to look down to meet her gaze, and found himself smiling at her slightly disheveled look.

She didn’t seem so cool and detached now, but en
tirely too warm and sexy for his peace of mind. Vulnerable, he thought nervously. Far too vulnerable. Fearing he’d reach for her, he reached for her toppled chair, instead.

“I did knock,” he said with a grin as he righted the chair and set it back in place. “But apparently you didn’t hear me.”

“Apparently not.” She frowned again, glancing nervously at the files and notes scattered over the table. The manila folder she’d taken from her mother’s apartment was in the locked file drawer. She wasn’t ready to read it. Not yet.

Nor was she ready to share her work with Jake. Yes, she’d promised to let him read every word she wrote, but she was still in the first-draft stage, still laying the foundation, trying to find her footing and her theme, and until she did, everything was trial and error. There was no point letting him read something that was neither finished nor final, since it might only alarm him. She didn’t want to do anything to make Jake uncomfortable, and perhaps have him renege on his promise to help her.

“I didn’t hear you,” she said defensively, pushing a sleeve up and glancing nervously at her temporary desk space again. “I was working.”

Jake barely seemed to notice or care about the locked file drawer or anything else on her desk. His gaze was intent on her. She didn’t know if she should be nervous or relieved.

“Yes, I can see that you were working,” he said in amusement. “But didn’t you forget something?” he asked with a lift of his brow.

“Is this a test?” she asked crossly, making him grin. Her mind was still on what she’d been writing. For the past twenty-four hours, she’d been totally engrossed in the story, trying to make it come alive on paper. And she wasn’t used to intrusions.

She worked alone, lived alone. And now realized why.

“Didn’t I already have this conversation with the twins?” Jake wondered aloud, trying not to be charmed by her irritability. She just looked so absolutely…delectable. That was the only word he could think of at the moment, but it seemed to fit her. Perfectly.

“Jake.” With another sigh, Rebecca dragged her hair off her face, wishing he’d just go away. He was staring at her, apparently waiting for something— what, she didn’t know.

“You can’t remember what you forgot, can you, Slick?” he asked with wicked amusement, making her annoyance grow.

“No,” she admitted with a snap to her voice, searching her memory. “I’m sorry, I can’t. When I’m working, I’m generally totally engaged and involved in what I’m doing,” she said defensively, rubbing her damp palm down her leggings, wondering why the man’s mere presence made her palms sweat and her pulse thud.

“I have a tendency to become totally oblivious to the world and everything in it.” She frowned. “I need to concentrate on what I’m doing. All that’s important are the words in my mind, and the story I’m trying to create. Do you understand?”

“Not one bit,” he admitted, smiling as he used one finger to push her glasses up her nose. “But I guess that’s why I’m a tax attorney—a numbers man, not a words man.” He pretended to shudder. “About the only thing I’m capable of writing are…bad checks.”

She laughed and felt some of the tension leave her. “So what did I forget?”

“Dinner.”

Her face went totally blank for a moment, and he could tell the moment reality registered and panic set in.

“Oh my word! What day, time is it?” She glanced at her wrist, realized her watch was lying on the bureau in the bedroom. She never wore it when she worked. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry. Tommy must think I’m the rudest person in the world. I said I might come to dinner tonight, but I should have called to let him know. Oh my word, to just stand him up, without even a phone call, after he’s been so kind, so gracious…” Horrified, she trailed off as she dove under the table in search of her shoes.

After the scene with Jake yesterday, she’d completely forgotten about dinner, wanting only to have some time and space to herself. She still needed to get some perspective in order to feel totally comfortable about handling herself and her emotions.

“It wasn’t intentional, Jake. Honestly. I just got so involved in what I was doing, I completely forgot, and I meant to call, truly I did, but time just—”

“Rebecca.”

His voice, so close, so soft, had her glancing up, then rearing back a bit, blinking in surprise. He was
on his hands and knees under the table right next to her. So close she could smell his strong, masculine scent. It almost made her dizzy and she swallowed hard. She could see the beautiful blue of his eyes and it made it difficult to breathe.

“Calm down, Rebecca.” He kept his voice gentle, realizing she was truly spooked. “No harm done. It’s not that big of a deal.” His gaze never left hers. “Dinner turned out to be quite an engaging affair.”

“The twins?” She grinned. “And what type of mischief did they get into this time?” she asked, almost sorry she’d missed it.

Shaking his head, Jake groaned softly. “I’ll spare you the gory details, but let’s just say it involved Ruth, two snatched steaks and a stray barnyard cat who needs a lesson in manners. Throw the twins into the equation—who, by the way, thought the entire fiasco was hilarious—and you’ll have a pretty good idea how dinner went.” He winced in remembrance. “But since you didn’t come to dinner, I brought dinner to you.”

“You brought dinner to me?” she repeated in surprise, glancing up at him. He looked so ridiculous, crouched under the small table, that she had to laugh. It seemed to break the thread of tension between them. “Jake, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re too big to be under this table.”

“I know,” he said with a groan, reaching for her hand and helping her to her feet. He held it for a moment longer, not wanting to let her go, feeling something inexplicable tug at him.

“Jake, I’m really sorry.” Sincere regret tinged her
words. “I got so involved in what I was doing that time just slipped away.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tommy understands. I told him it was iffy for tonight, depending on how much work you got done.” She was wringing her hands together, so he covered them with his own. “Besides, it was probably better we didn’t have guests to witness Ruth’s total humiliation.” He wiggled his brows at her. “He’s the sensitive type.”

“The cat beat him out of the steaks?” she said knowingly, eyes twinkling in amusement. Jake nodded.

“Snatched them right out of poor Ruth’s hiding place and took off like a bat outta hell, but that doesn’t mean poor old Ruth didn’t give the rude thief a run for his money, so to speak. And then the twins gave chase after Ruth….” Jake shook his head, his voicetrailing off. “And then, of course, someone had to go after the twins. Needless to say it was a typical evening meal at the Ryan house.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” she said with a laugh. And she was, she realized. She’d never actually had the opportunity to have a family meal, when the family gathered and talked about their day as they ate, and she realized it was something she’d been looking forward to, something she’d missed growing up.

Just not yet. She wasn’t quite ready to face the full Ryan clan.

She glanced toward the window, saw the full moon and groaned just as her stomach rumbled. “What time is it, anyway?”

Jake glanced at the clock over one of the cabinets. Apparently she hadn’t yet noticed it. “Close to ten.”

She blinked up at him, stunned again. “At night?”

He laughed. “Yeah, Slick, at night.”

“Oh Lord,” she groaned with a shake of her head. Where had the time gone?

Last night, exhausted, and suffering from another miserable headache from crying, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. When she woke up, it was still dark, but she was anxious to dig in and get to work. Work was and always had been her salvation whenever the world intruded, got too close to her.

And so she’d turned on her laptop and begun going through all the papers Tommy had so graciously lent her. She was pretty certain she now had a fairly good handle on Tommy’s early life before and shortly after he’d come to America. The story outline was coming along, and in a few days she was certain she’d have a fairly good first draft done. All in all, considering everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, she was pleased with her progress.

She’d spent part of this morning analyzing her response and reactions to Tommy, to Jake, to this story.

She realized she’d simply not properly prepared for the emotional impact or ramifications of coming face-to-face with the Ryans once again.

But now that she’d had some time to analyze her feelings, put some time and distance between herself and the family, she was confident she would be able to keep things in proper perspective, remain cool and detached and totally emotionless—no matter what happened.

She glanced up at Jake, narrowing her gaze on him. She had to admit she’d been more than stunned by her reaction to him. It was definitely a complication she’d never anticipated.