Once More, At Midnight. Wendy WarrenЧитать онлайн книгу.
information about the Owenses, he had studiously avoided all gossip.
He’d already dismissed the likelihood that the girl was Lilah’s daughter. The tussle over the candy had been awkward, as if they weren’t used to touching. There was no familial spark.
Another thirty seconds down. Don’t waste any more time on the kid.
For his last minute of reflection on Lilah Owens, Gus decided to remember the most important part of their relationship: She had betrayed him. In one unforgettable moment she had cut out the heart he had discovered only by loving her.
For a long, long time, Gus had wished a similar pain befell her. He’d hoped she would fall in love, learn to trust and let herself need someone who would throw it all back in her face.
For a long time, hatred had kept him alive but stupid. He’d made piss-poor choices and asinine mistakes.
Finally he’d realized hatred held a person in the gutter, but that righteous fury could be a powerful motivator. That’s when he began to fight the right way.
He’d battled for opportunities he’d never have hoped for in the past. He’d swallowed his pride—and his arrogance—and worked with integrity when he thought a menial task would lead to something more. He learned how to conform, or at least to give the appearance of doing so when it would benefit him. He’d sought mentors and when they’d advised him, he’d listened.
Over the years, Gus had become more than anyone had ever imagined he would be. More, even, than he’d dared hope to become.
His passion had served him. And once it had, he’d let it go.
Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped picturing Lilah with every job he’d taken, every bank account he’d opened. There had come a time when he’d tried on a thousand-dollar suit and sought his own approval, not hers, in the mirror. In that moment he had known that he was ready to move on personally, not just professionally. He’d finally been able to start living and would eventually try his hand at loving. He’d moved past caring what Lilah Owens felt or thought about, or whether she’d ever regretted her actions….
Until fifteen minutes ago.
“Let me get this straight: The kid’s mother gives you—a woman she hasn’t seen in years—custody of her kid, and you have no choice in the matter?”
Seated behind her broad oak desk, dressed in her sheriff’s uniform, red hair slicked back into an honest-to-God, old-fashioned bun, Sara Owens looked and sounded more like a suspicious law enforcement agent than the warm, supportive sister Lilah needed right now.
“Keep your voice down,” Lilah cautioned, glancing to the jail cells Bree was presently investigating. At least the fact that Sara worked in a jail had scored points with the chronically unimpressed preteen. Sara had given her permission to nose around and that bought Lilah a few minutes to try to explain her current situation to her sister. “Of course I had a choice in the matter. You can’t force someone to take a child.”
“So?” Sara raised her hands. “Why do you still have her?”
Glancing toward the cells, Lilah wondered which details to relay and which to leave out. She hadn’t had the chutzpah to tell anyone the whole story. Not yet.
“I’m going to raise her.”
Sara put her head in her hands.
Lilah’s stomach burned. This was why she had been hoping to tell Nettie first. Nettie was gentle. Nettie was polite. Nettie was the youngest sister, but among the three of them she was the only one who had ever possessed a modicum of maternal instincts. When their parents died, it had been Nettie who’d assumed the role of nurturer and caretaker. Although Lilah and Sara were older and should have been the ones taking care of their baby sis, they had learned to rely on Nettie for their emotional needs, for reminders to complete their homework and for edible meals. Looking back, they had taken her for granted.
After driving across several states with Bree and then seeing Gus Hoffman, Lilah needed Nettie’s comfort and her levelheaded advice more than ever. She’d driven straight to Nettie’s from the gas station, but the house had been locked up tight. On her own, Lilah would have stayed put and waited. Bree, on the other hand, had started complaining about the heat and the threat of starvation, so Lilah had reluctantly come to the sheriff’s station.
Standing before Sara’s narrowed green eyes and their eagle-sharp scrutiny made Lilah remember why she’d rarely trusted Sara with her secrets, even when they were both kids. Sara’s world was black and white. Actions were either right or wrong, good or bad; you did something or you didn’t do it—case closed, end of story, next case. Lilah had never understood that.
Picking her way carefully over the rocky terrain of explanations, she attempted to answer Sara without provoking a cross-examination.
“Grace was my best friend when I first got to L.A. She was the receptionist at the first acting agency I signed with, and she took me under her wing and told me who I could trust and who to steer clear from. She saved my butt lots of times. I owed her any help I could give her.”
Sara squinted as if she were in pain. It made her look like Robert De Niro. “She helped you with your acting stuff, so you think you should take her kid?”
Lilah told herself not to get defensive, but she was exhausted and couldn’t stop thinking about Gus—two conditions guaranteed to put her on edge. And the way Sara said “your acting stuff” reminded her that in her older sister’s eyes she’d failed in just about every area of her life.
“I’m not going to let Sabrina down,” she said, “and you know what? You’re not going to understand this, so just drop it, Sara.”
Sara leaned over her desk, cheeks turning as red as her hair. “I’m not going to understand it? Why?” She splayed a big-boned hand on her chest. “Are you implying that I would let someone down? That I’m not reliable?”
“Geesh, Sara, no—”
“I sure as hell hope not, because as I recall I’m not the one who moved fifteen hundred miles from my family so I could be on the New Dating Game.”
“Oh, that’s it!” Lilah stood and knocked over a half-dead aloe vera plant as she swung her purse onto her shoulder. “Do you have Nettie’s cell number?”
“What for?”
“Because I’m hungry, and I want her recipe for bread pudding.” Lilah reached for the phone on Sara’s desk and held it up, waiting for the number. “She wasn’t home, and I would like to see a friendly face after driving across half the country, so just give me the number.”
Sara rose, too, stabbing her index finger into her own chest. “I’m friendly. I’m one of the friendliest damned people you’ll ever meet.”
“That’s right. Ask anyone.” A rough voice and booted footsteps forestalled a comment from Lilah, who turned to see that Nick Brady, a farmer with property that adjoined Sara’s land, had entered the jail. He walked toward them with an ironic quirk on his handsome lips and a lazy roll in his gait.
Lilah would have greeted her old girlhood neighbor if Sara hadn’t grumbled, “Don’t you ever knock?”
“To enter a public building? Not often.” Nick’s half-hooded eyes mocked her ungently. “Besides, you’re so friendly.” He turned to Lilah and offered a smile. “Good to see you back home. You’re as beautiful as ever.”
She wasn’t, but Lilah knew the comment was intended more to infuriate Sara than to compliment the recipient, so she smiled. “I can always count on your charm to see past my flaws, Nick. How’ve you been?” They shared a brief embrace.
“Fine as always.” He nodded toward one of the open cells on the other side of the small, old-fashioned jailhouse. “I see you’ve got company.”
“That’s Bree,”