All for Hope (24 page)

“Dammit. I knew this was going to happen. I knew when I saw that look in your eyes. You’ll do it even if I don’t help you, won’t you?”

She nodded, wringing her hands nervously.

“I’ll call Cindy. You can take my car to get out of New Durma, but switch it out for a rental before you get to Port La Pena. It won’t do for you to drive my car right up to my house, just in case they’re watching. She’ll arrange for you to get to your mom’s house. She’s been there almost every day anyway.”

“Thank you, Mark.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“This is really stupid, you know?”

“I have to see Mom. I can’t not go. Now I need you to do something else. Wake up Uncle James by six. He’ll need to be ready to deal with Bren when he gets here. I left him a note, and I know he’ll come here first. Our marriage wasn’t recorded, and if anything happens, if they pick me up, he needs to have his uncle record the instrument. He can’t be made to testify against me that way. And then he has to leave. He has to go somewhere, anywhere. I can’t know where he is. Do you understand?”

He didn't like it, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He nodded, his expression solemn with worry.

Hope's hair was black now, cut short to frame her face, and she was wearing blue contacts, just to give a little extra camouflage. Her hometown seemed different, foreign. She didn't understand the change, but she could only imagine that it was because her ideals about life were somehow different. Mark's house was the one thing that she could say had stayed the same. His wife Cindy came out to greet her, and they hugged a moment in the yard.

“I can't tell you how glad I am to know that you aren't really dead,” Cindy murmured, tears in her eyes.

“I'm sorry for that, Cindy. I really am.”

Mark's children were out of town with their grandparents. There was no way they could be trusted to keep Hope's existence a secret. Mark, of course, was still away on “business”.

Cindy had been to visit Hope's mother every day since her illness, so her presence at the Sheffield home wouldn't be questioned. Hope was to play the part of Cindy's friend from Houston, the wife of a deacon come to say prayers with the ailing Mrs. Sheffield.

“I told them we'd come about seven. I thought you might want to eat something first. I have sandwiches and chicken soup in the kitchen.”

Hope wasn't hungry. Her stomach was in knots, so she just asked for some crackers and some iced tea. Thankfully, the baby was being still today, or she was afraid she'd be sick.

“Have the police been to the house? Are they watching?”

Cindy shook her head. “Not that we’ve seen. We can't be sure though.”

Hope nodded. “And how is my mother?”

“Weak. Tired. She keeps calling for you. “

Nerves throbbed in her veins as Hope glanced at the clock, then sighed through her teeth. “We have nearly an hour. I don't think I can wait that long.”

Cindy debated silently a moment before nodding. “Let's go then. I'll drive slow, and we'll only be about twenty minutes early.”

There were several cars parked in front of her parents’ house. She recognized her father's and her aunt's. The moment they parked on the street in front of the house, anxiety began to clench in her stomach. Hope swallowed several times to rid herself of the nausea she was feeling.

Her cousin Robert came out to greet them, shaking her hand formally in a show of introduction, just in case they were being watched. She went inside and was bombarded by her aunt and her father, both of them hugging and kissing her.

Hope smiled, but quickly pushed her way to the bedroom where she knew her mother must be. There, propped up with pillows and surrounded by several thick blankets, lay her mom. The once strong, vital and gentle woman looked like someone had simply sucked the life from her. Hope suddenly knew that she must have had some role in doing this to her mother. A sob tore through her lips.

“Oh, baby,” Mrs. Sheffield murmured hoarsely, raising her bone-like hand. “Come hug me.”

They embraced, and Hope smiled and wiped the tears from the woman’s pale face. “I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me.”

“You thought I wouldn't know my own daughter?”

“I don't exactly look the same as I did before I left.”

“No, you're even more beautiful.”

Hope held a lock of her hair out in front of her. “You like it black?”

“I don't mean your hair, baby. I mean your face. You're glowing— just as an expectant mother should. I'm so happy for you.” She patted Hope's stomach. “I'm only sorry I won't see it born.”

“Don't say that, Mom. You’re going to be fine. You just need to be strong.”

Mrs. Sheffield shook her head. “Yes, I know. I’ll be strong, and now that I’ve seen you and I know you’re all right, I feel like I could dance a jig. What I mean is you can’t stay here. You have to leave. Go back to the baby and Brennan.” She laughed, and then fell into a fit of coughing before continuing. “I was so—surprised when I heard you married him. You always said you would, but I just never believed you. You do look happy though and—” She coughed again.

Hope reached for some water and held the glass to her mother's lips. Mrs. Sheffield drank, and then fell back against her pillow with a content sigh. Her cheeks were blooming with color now, which was a marked improvement from just the moment when Hope first arrived.

“I mean it, Hope. You have to go.”

With a deep sigh, Hope nodded. “Can I at least have an hour to catch up? I promise I’ll go, but I haven’t seen you and Daddy and Aunt Carol in so long.”

By the time Hope finished catching up, about two and half hours had passed. Her mother was asleep, but with each moment Hope was there, her looks improved. Cindy, nervous and fidgety, insisted it was time for them to go. Long tearful hugs were exchanged between all of the family, and Hope gave her mother a longing look before heading for the front door.

“Dad, will she be all right?”

Her father patted her cheek and smiled. “She needed to know you were all right. I think she’ll be fine now. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Cindy and Hope were quiet on the drive back to the Terrance residence. As they approached the house, Hope turned to give her friend a smile.

“Thank you for going to all of this trouble. I appreciate so much what you and Mark have done for me. And for my family.”

“You would have done it for us.” The woman laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “We’re glad to do it. Why don’t you and I have some sandwiches before you get on the road again?”

“Sandwiches sound good. It’s a long drive back, but I miss Michelle and Bren already,” Hope said as she vacated the car, glancing at the gray sky behind the house where the sun was just beginning to set.

“Hope Sheffield.” A very deep male voice spoke from behind her. Both women gasped together and turned to see a large middle-aged man approach via the driveway. “Are you Hope Sheffield?”

She couldn’t speak. Her tongue felt lodged in her throat and an icy cold tingle burst along her limbs. Afraid she might collapse, she reached a hand out for the car to steady herself.

“Who are you?” Cindy came around to stand in front of her as if to protect her. Hope could still say nothing as her vision tunneled. All she could see was this man before her in a dark suit, his gray eyebrows drawn together in a severe look.

A moment passed. “He’s a cop, Cindy. Aren’t you?”

She thought she might have seen a flicker of sympathy in his eyes before he nodded and reached back under his jacket for his handcuffs.

“Hope Sheffield, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Michelle Taggert.”

Mark thought Brennan was probably going to pace a hole in the floor of the game room in Arrington Manor. The man couldn’t sit still for anything. His uncle and cousin had done everything to coax him into a game, to eat, anything to relax. It just wasn’t happening.

Watching the man with hawk’s eyes, Mark was impressed. Even with Hope’s letters insisting that Brennan Rawley was different, he still couldn’t believe it. He supposed he didn’t want to believe it, caring for Hope as much as he himself did. He had dried her tears when the prick had hurt her time and again. He had helped her move on when the guy did the only decent thing in his life and left her alone to get over him.

“Hmmm—” Mark muttered to himself. He supposed this entire adventure meant it wasn’t the
only
decent thing in the man’s life.

“You say something?” Sir Rawley queried, looking up at him from his Scrabble game.

“No.” Mark shook his head, pushing himself from his position holding up the near wall. “I guess I could probably play a game though.”

“Indeed.”

The pudgy little woman named Meg began divvying the tiles out. The room remained silent except for the padding of Bren’s shoes on the carpet. The baby was asleep in her playpen on the opposite side of the room. The boys, Jareth and Jenson, were playing video games with headphones on so as not to disturb the adults.

Mark found the entire setting somewhat ironic. Hope had a good family at home. She and her parents had dinner together most Sundays. Her Aunt Carol was her shopping partner, and the ladies liked to hit the mall every few weeks, sometimes with Cindy in tow.

All he could do while Hope was on the run was worry about her safety and lament all that she was leaving behind, presumably forever.

Yet somehow, in this crazy situation, she had found a husband and a new family. A family that was worried about her in just the same way her family back home had worried and agonized all of this time.

Michelle stirred and raised her head, whimpering and looking around with dazed eyes.

“Someone’s awake.” Meg said, smiling and laughing a bit. Mark could hear the nervousness behind the sound as she tried to break the tension in the room. He watched Brennan stop and look over at the baby, waking from his sullen reverie. He forced a grin and hurried to pick the little girl up and kiss her forehead.

“I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” he cooed to her, his voice soft and adoring. “Let’s see about getting you some chow.”

“You’re first.” Sir Rawley nudged him, drawing his attention from Brennan’s exit. “Play your word.”

The four of them made small talk while they laid their tiles. Children's intuition told the two boys that the anxiety in the room was settling, so they removed their headphones and started badgering each other over their games.

Mark felt his cell phone vibrate first, and he dug it out of his pocket by the time the first ring sounded. All eyes turned to him as he answered his wife’s call.