The Hopechest Bride. Кейси МайклсЧитать онлайн книгу.
Wilkes was also here, living in the house, eating at the table, being so nice and kind and caring.
The woman was wonderful, really. But Emily felt as if she were constantly under a microscope, so that she was careful to always keep her guard up. Keep smiling, keep helping around the ranch, keep her hurt and despair hidden, locked behind her bedroom door, crying only in the shower, so that no one would hear her. She’d been taking an awful lot of showers lately….
Sophie came back into the room and sat down on the couch with a sigh. “There, that’s done. She’s been changed and put into jammies, and we’ll have blessed peace for about two hours, if we’re lucky. Then playtime with Daddy, a bath and dinner—and probably another bath, as Meggie’s gotten pretty good at blowing raspberries at us with her mouth full. That’s a real treat when she’s eating mashed beets, let me tell you. Riv puts her down for the night and sings to her—but you didn’t hear that one from me, okay, as he’d probably deny it. He’s a wonderful, wonderful father.”
Emily looked at her sister, at the smile on Sophie’s lovely face, a face still carrying the scar of a mugger’s attack. Funny. When Sophie had first run back to the ranch, to hide there, hide her face, it was assumed by everyone that she’d have plastic surgery the moment the surgeon said it was time. But then she’d gotten pregnant, and then there’d been Meggie to take care of, and it was as if Sophie had forgotten the scar even existed. She was too busy living her life, loving her life, to see it.
“You’re happy, aren’t you, Soph?” Emily asked, knowing the answer. “I mean, you have a sort of glow about you.”
“Oh, dear,” Sophie said, sitting up straight. “It shows? We wanted to wait until Christmas to tell everybody, but if you see it, Mom and Dad are bound to see it.”
“See what?” Emily asked, confused.
“That we’re pregnant again,” Sophie announced, lightly pressing her hands to her flat belly. “We hadn’t planned another baby this soon, but now Meggie will have a little brother or sister to play with, and we like that idea. Riv is already planning an addition to the house.”
“That’s how Mom and Dad started, isn’t it? And the Hacienda de Alegria just grew and grew. I’m so happy for you.” Emily smiled, while inside she sighed, silently crossing off the idea of coming to live in Sophie’s spare room for a few weeks—at least until Dr. Wilkes went back to Mississippi. It had been a bad idea anyway, one born of desperation.
Laughing, Sophie answered, “True enough, Em, but Riv and I don’t have plans to repopulate the entire earth—just our small part of it. Okay, now tell me what’s on your mind, and don’t tell me ‘nothing,’ because I won’t believe it.”
“I’m that transparent, huh? I thought so, which is one of the reasons I was hoping to come hide out with you guys for a while,” Emily heard herself admitting, so that she quickly picked up another peanut butter cookie and shoved half of it into her mouth—right next to her foot.
“You want to get away from the ranch? Why?”
Emily pushed a hand through her hair, tucked a heavy lock behind one ear. “Okay, I’ll tell you. Mom’s sicced Dr. Wilkes on me, that’s why, among other things. The other things I can live with, but Dr. Wilkes gives me the creeps. It’s like she can see straight through me.”
“And can she?” Sophie asked, doing a fair job of looking straight through her sister herself.
“Oh yeah. Straight through me, Soph. It’s scary.” Emily put both hands to the back of her neck, then pushed up, so that her mass of wavy hair all piled high, then fell to her shoulders once more when she moved her hands, making a chestnut cloud around her head. A quick shake of her head and those curls covered half her cheeks and most of her expression. She hadn’t even known what she’d done.
But Sophie did.
“Ah, the old hide-my-face-behind-my-hair trick,” Sophie said, wagging a finger at Emily. “You do know that’s a dead giveaway, don’t you, sis? Emily’s early-warning system reaction to impending trouble. You’ve been doing that since you were a kid.”
“I have?” Emily went to shake her head, stopped herself. “You’re making that up.”
“Oh, really? I’ve got examples, Emily, and I’m more than willing to share. Like the day Mom came into the living room and asked who had broken the glass in a picture frame in the library, and forgotten to take away the baseball that had done the job. That time Dad asked for volunteers to muck out the stalls because half the hands were down with food poisoning. The day the phone rang and it was Mrs. Hatcher, your second grade teacher, calling to talk to Mom. And it wasn’t to say that Emily Colton was her prize student.”
“Mrs. Hatcher. Ugh! The woman accused me of eating paste. Double ugh! And I’d only taken a small bite.”
“Ah, so you do remember. But the point I’m trying to make is that the moment you felt the slightest bit in danger, you found a way to pull your hair over your face, like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. It was always a dead giveaway. Trouble comes, and Emily hides behind her hair. It’s as dependable as Inez’s success with peanut butter cookies.”
Emily felt her cheeks flushing, and raised one hand toward her hair before quickly clasping her hands together in her lap. Was her hair always destined to betray her? “I hate my hair,” she said quietly, but with a wealth of feeling. “I should shave it all off.”
“Don’t you dare, Emily Colton! You’re a beautiful woman, but that hair of yours is absolutely extraordinary. Why, I could pick you out in a crowd of thousands, just from one glimpse of that head of hair. You have enough for five people, all on your one head. And the color! You can’t get that out of a bottle, Emily. I know, because I tried one time, in college. I ended up looking like a circus clown.”
“Lots of people could pick me out of a crowd because of this hair of mine,” Emily said, blinking back sudden tears. “Oh, damn. Sophie, what am I going to do? Toby Atkins is dead because of me, and his killer told the police that one of the ways he could track me was because of my hair. People remembered it, remembered me, and Silas Pike was able to find me because of it. Toby Atkins died because Silas Pike was able to find me.”
Sophie was silent for some moments. “Oh, wow,” she breathed at last. “So you’re blaming yourself for Toby Atkins’s death? Because of your hair?”
Emily shook her head, sniffed back tears. “No, not really. Not just the hair. But I should have disguised myself, Sophie, or at least cut my hair, hidden my hair. I’m not stupid, I know my hair is distinctive. I’m guilty because I was arrogant, Sophie. I thought I was so smart. I thought I’d hidden myself brilliantly. And then I didn’t tell Toby the truth. He was a sheriff, Sophie. I should have trusted him, told him, and then he would have been prepared when trouble came.”
“You said all this to Dr. Wilkes?” Sophie leaned forward when Emily remained silent. “Emily? You did tell her, didn’t you?”
Emily shook her head. “I didn’t have to. She knows it was all my fault. Everyone knows,” she said, a sudden mental picture of Josh Atkins’s hard, condemning eyes making her shiver. She banished that image quickly, knowing it would be back, to haunt her dreams, cloud her days. “That’s why she’s here, to help me work through my guilt. Like that’s going to happen. Like she can somehow change what happened.”
Sophie stood up, walked around the coffee table, sat down on the arm of Emily’s chair and put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You do know, Emily, that you’re doing again what you said you did about your hair. You’re assuming that Dr. Wilkes believes you’re guilty. I doubt she’s as harsh a jury as you’ve been to yourself. Because I see it another way, sis. I see a young woman running scared from a murderer, running for her life, and yet trying to hang on to as much of her former life as she can. I see a young woman who knew Toby Atkins was falling in love with her, and was too honest to lead him on, make him her protector, put him in danger. You nearly died that night, Emily, and Toby Atkins saved your