Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (31 page)

"And you'll need to get a cat," Justine added.

"They don't allow cats where I live," Brad said.

"Then move."

"I'd have to sell."

"That's what realtors are for."

Brad folded his arms. "It's not that easy to just pack up and move."

"People do it all the time," Justine said. "You find a town where you're not just a demographic number, and move into a neighborhood where the parents watch their kids." She looked at Brad's firm profile—mouth in a downward slash, eyes fixed on Sophie. "Are you getting any of what I'm telling you, or is it still all about Brad Meecham?"

"Look, I get it," Brad snapped. "If it was all about me I'd have you in my bed and I'd give you everything you've missed so you wouldn't want any other man and..." he stopped.

"And there would be no move, no cats, and no Sophie," Justine said. "Just Justine Page and Brad Meecham screwing the hell out of each other, but this time Justine Page would be getting what she'd never had, but that's not the reality—Sophie figures into it now—but you can still do the first part of the fantasy."

"Yeah, but you'd need your self-respect first, and that kind of talk isn't getting you there."

"But going to town to get new underwear tomorrow will," Justine said. "It's also when you'll be alone with Sophie, so make the most of it." Deciding to leave Brad with that thought, she stood abruptly and left.

CHAPTER 9

When Brad came out of the bathroom after a quick shower and saw that Sophie was gone then noticed the front door ajar, he rushed out to find her standing in the snow. No hat. No coat. She was wearing her new dress, and draped across the top of her head was the table decoration of fir boughs and Christmas ornaments that Grace had brought over a couple of days before. With her eyes closed and her hands clasped together, he assumed she was praying.

After a moment he said "Honey, you'll catch cold. You need to come inside."

"I'm not through," Sophie said, keeping her eyes closed tightly and her hands clenched. "I'm the Christmas fairy and I'm praying to God to bring Mommy back."

"God won't be happy if you catch a cold and get sick," Brad said.

Sophie opened her eyes and focused that wide blue gaze on him, and said, "I guess if God gets mad at me he won't bring Mommy." Without any argument, she trudged back inside, then disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.

And Brad went into the kitchen and set a pot of water on the stove to boil for the macaroni.

Justine had left a couple of hours before to go to town, and after a tearful breakaway from her, but on a less dramatic scale than what happened when Elsa drove off, Sophie refused to talk to him, and busied herself talking to her bear, which was when he decided to take a shower.

He was in the process of stirring butter and the powdered cheese mix into the hot macaroni noodles when Sophie returned. She no longer had the Christmas decoration on her head, but she was carrying her bear, who she'd wrapped in her tattered pink blanket. She set the bear on the couch, and said to him, "I'm giving you to God, and God will send Mommy back from Heaven."

Brad looked at his daughter and saw Yvette's face clearly—wide, almond-shaped eyes, although Sophie's were blue like his instead of brown like Yvette's, a small perfect nose, well-defined lips, a heart-shaped face with a delicate chin, and a cloud of blond curls around her face. Justine was right, Sophie would be a beautiful teenager, and she'd be told from childhood how beautiful she was. It was already happening. Before they'd left the lodge the day before, several people with good intentions, who were aware of the situation, went up to her to tell her how pretty she looked. Yvette had been a striking woman, with her dark brown eyes and pale natural blond hair. But Sophie was even more striking. Her deep-set blue eyes, fringed with long sweeping brown lashes, were almost mesmerizing. She wasn't aware of it yet, but she already knew how to look up through those lashes.

"I have macaroni, honey. You want to eat now?" he asked, not expecting a verbal response from Sophie. Until the episode in the snow shortly before, communication between them had been glares, looks that could kill, and the shake of her head. But this time Sophie surprised him by turning and looking at him, and saying, "You can put a bowl with some by Buffy, and God can have that too when he brings Mommy."

So they were back to that again. Brad set a small bowl of macaroni on the couch beside the bear, wondering if it was a good idea to continue the farce. Maybe it was time to have a reality check. "Sophie, look at Daddy," he said, realizing it was the first time he'd referred to himself as that. It seemed strange, at age forty, to be a father. He'd long since given up on having a family. After he divorced Jen, and the flashbacks took hold of his life, he immersed himself in his writing, and during his time with Yvette he thought they were safe from pregnancy…

Sophie ignored his request to look at him, and instead, went into the bedroom and came out a few minutes later, wearing her nightgown and carrying her new dress, which she carefully arranged beside the bear. Then she got down on her knees, and pressed her palms together, and closed her eyes and said, "If I give you Buffy and my blanket, and my new dress, and some food, and I promise to be good, will you send Mommy back from heaven?" She waited, eyes closed, hands together. But after a few moments, she opened her eyes and gazed upward. "Are you there God?" she asked, eyes moving across the ceiling.

Placing another bowl of macaroni on the table, Brad said, "Come on and eat."

"Will you write a note to God then?" Sophie looked at him and waited.

"God hears prayers, honey. He doesn't read notes," Brad said.

To his surprise, Sophie climbed onto the chair and started eating. Brad thought about sitting with her, but when she gave him one of her
don't come any closer
looks he decided not to press things.               "Can I have a bubble bath after I eat?" she asked.

"You can when Justine gets back," Brad replied.

Sophie glared at him. "I don't want to wait till then. I want a bubble bath now!"

Brad looked at the clear plastic container with the packets of bubble bath inside that Sophie received from one of the ranch guests, and said, "If you finish your lunch first, I guess you can."

Sophie scooped the macaroni into her mouth in record time, slipped down off the chair and went into the bedroom, where she quickly stripped off her gown and returned to the kitchen and said to Brad, "I'm ready."

Brad turned. "Holy shit, Sophie," he said. "You can't go running around like that. I'm a man." But as he looked at Sophie's small, perfect little body, an odd sense of protectiveness and possessiveness crept over him with the realization that one day she'd have breasts, and pubic hair, and men would want to touch her and kiss her there and take her to bed, and all he could think of was beating the crap out of any guy who came near her.

"Daddy saw me like this," she said.

Brad looked at her with a start. "Who?"

"Daddy. He came in the bathroom and brought me a rubber duck to put in the water. He said he was going to bring me more things, but Elsa told him he had to go so he didn't come back."

Brad looked down at her, and said, "What do you mean, Daddy?"

"Daddy!" Sophie said, and stomped her little bare foot, as if Brad were dense. "He said he was my daddy and he was going to take me home with him, but Elsa told him he had to go. Then we left on the bus and came here."

Elsa. Brad never got an address from her, or a phone number. He didn't even remember her last name. Maybe Justine would remember, but the shock of the woman showing up on his doorstep with a child she claimed was his and Yvette's blocked out everything else.

"What about my bubble bath?!" Sophie said, stomping her foot again.

"Right," Brad said. He gave her shoulder blade a nudge with his finger and turned her toward the bath, watching her little backside sashaying back and forth as she walked. Damn if it wasn't inborn, the sway of her hips, the little twist of her shoulders as she strutted toward the bath. Even while he held his thumb over the faucet to send a stream of water for making bubbles, Sophie stood with one hip cocked, her hand braced against it, and her head tipped at a provocative angle. And she was only five!

An all-girl school would go a long way in keeping her on the straight and narrow...

The idea suddenly didn't seem so farfetched.

After testing the water, he said, "Go ahead climb in."

Sophie smiled and raised her leg over the rim of the tub, then stopped midway, unable to lift herself in. Seeing her predicament, Brad clamped his hands around her tiny waist and hoisted her in, and she settled among the bubbles. To his dismay, the first thing she did was to put a scoop of bubbles on each flat breast, and say, "See, I'm Barbie."

Okay, so the Barbies had to go, he decided. And no Kens. Hell the kid would be putting bubbles on him next to replace what Ken was missing.

Move into a neighborhood where the parents watch their kids...

Deciding it was time to find out more about
daddy
, he closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, and said, "Did this guy you called daddy come to the house much?"

Sophie tossed bubbles into the air and blew against them as they glided downward.

"Sophie, honey," Brad said. "The man you called daddy? Was he a friend of your Mommy's?"

"Yeah," Sophie replied. "He said he was my daddy. I guess that's’ cause he was married to Mommy, but I didn't like him much." She tossed a handful of bubbles up and blew against them, sending them scattering.

"Your Mommy was married?" Brad asked, wondering how that fit into the scheme of things. But of course Yvette could have gotten married. There had been nothing serious between them. Four days that were now mostly a blur of Sunni Triangle flashbacks and hot sex didn't add up to love ever after. Still, he felt an illogical sense of betrayal. Ever since those four days, Yvette had been the only woman he'd thought about with regret for not having gone after her. He'd given her his address, and expected her to contact him, but she'd never given him hers, though he knew all along he could find her if he wanted, which he'd planned to do, until life got in the way. But he'd always wondered if they might have made a life together.

Sophie stood in the tub and watched as the bubbles cascaded down her belly.

"Sophie!" he said, to get her attention. "Did you say your Mommy was married?"

"Yeah," Sophie replied. "Daddy came over sometime, but Mommy didn't want him to stay, and I didn't either. I didn't like the things he did."

Brad looked at her with a start. "What kind of things?" He'd do more than beat the crap out of the guy if he'd touched Sophie. The man would find his male parts missing.

"He sometimes made me sit on his lap and I didn't like that. He smelled bad, like you do." She arranged mounds of bubbles on her breasts again.

Brad moved her hand away, and said, "You've got to stop doing that."

Sophie looked up at him. "Why?"

"Because..." Hell, he didn't know why, only that she needed to focus on other things. "Just sit down," he groused. After Sophie was settled among the bubbles again, Brad said, "You think I smell bad?" He wondered if he'd been holed up in the cabin too long. He'd showered every day, and his underwear was clean.

"You smell like smoke," Sophie said. "It stinks, like Daddy does."

The elusive Daddy again. "You want me to stop smoking?" he asked.

"I don't care," Sophie replied, patting bubbles on her cheeks and forehead. "You're not my daddy and I won't be staying here so it doesn't matter." She scooped bubbles onto her hands and blew them off.

"You're right, we won't be staying here," Brad said. "We'll be going to a city called San Francisco and you'll be living in a big house that's connected to other big houses on both sides. You'll have your own room there."

"No," Sophie said, "I'll be going back to Mommy's house after God brings her back from heaven." She flipped over and flattened her chest against the tub bottom, popping a rear end surrounded by a sea of bubbles out of the water.

Oh man. Maybe he wasn't up to this. The kid had no inhibitions. "Turn over," he said. "You need to get your butt back in the bubbles."

"Okay." Sophie rolled over and lay flat on her back and put her feet up on the rim of the tub. "Watch the bubbles run down my tummy," she said, pressing her feet against the rim of the tub, spreading her knees and lifting her hips out of the water.

Unless you instill solid morals in her from the getgo, she'll use it to get what she wants...

"Take your feet down, Sophie," Brad snapped. "Girls keep their knees together."

To his horror, Sophie put a mound of bubbles between her legs.

"Okay, that's enough!" Brad said. "Time to get out of the tub."

Sophie lowered her hips into the water. "I was just doing what Mommy said to do. She said I shouldn't let anyone see my pee, so I put bubbles there."

"Yeah, well that's fine, but now you need to get out. The water's getting cold."

He'd definitely look into a Catholic all-girl's school when he got back.

"Okay," Sophie said, tossing bubbles in the air and catching them as they floated down.

Brad flipped the drain, lifted Sophie out of the water onto a bathmat, and while she stood in front of him, he rubbed her briskly with the towel and scrubbed it over her mop of blond curls. Then wrapping her in the towel, he carried her into the bedroom and set her down, still wrapped in the towel, while he looked for something to put on her. Finding a pair of lacy panties sitting with a small stack of things on the dresser, which looked like mini versions of what was for sale at Victoria's Secret, he grabbed a pair of the tiny things, and said, "Can you put these on?"

"Yeah," Sophie replied, "if you hold them out for me."

Squatting on his heels, Brad opened the waistband for Sophie to put her feet in then pulled them around her hips, but they didn't cover her belly button. First thing he'd do when they got home would be to get her plain, cotton briefs that came up to her waist.

He turned and looked around the room for more clothes, and spotting a stack on a chair, took a tee shirt and a pair of jeans off the pile, but when he turned to dress Sophie, he was disturbed to see her brushing her nipples back and forth with the tips of her fingers and looking down at them. "What are you doing?" he asked, wondering if girls, turning into women like Justine, was inborn, or maybe genetic. Maybe too many female hormones.

"Rubbing these," Sophie said. "It makes them hard and it feels good."