The Christmas Cradle. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ He said I was still too young, but it happened to all girls and when it did I was supposed to tell him and we’d buy what I need. That’s gross, though. Aunt Becky said she’d come and help me, and Lori’s mom offered to help, too. But I don’t want Aunt Becky or Lori’s mom. I want my own mommy. She’d know all about things like that.”

      “I’m sure she would.” Poor Ellie. Clearly she wanted a mother any way she could get one. “But you have to leave that up to your father.”

      “Oh, no. My mother broke his heart and he’s never falling in love again, but I’m not giving up.”

      Colter had been in love with Shannon. She couldn’t believe how much that hurt—and it shouldn’t. She’d left him, so he had had every right to get on with his life. How she wished she’d been able to do the same.

      “Lori and me heard Santa’s coming to Dalton’s Department Store, and I’m going to see him. I want to ask him why he hasn’t sent me a mommy. I’ve asked a bunch of times. Lori says Santa Claus isn’t real, but I believe in him. Do you believe, Ms. Preston?”

      Ellie’s words danced in her head with childish candor. “Yes. I believe.” She believed in anything that made another person happy, and believing in Santa made Ellie happy—that was obvious.

      “Since I work at Dalton’s, I’ll make sure you get a private sitting with Santa. How’s that?” Colter wouldn’t like her interfering, but she couldn’t help herself. She certainly wasn’t telling Ellie there wasn’t a Santa Claus.

      “You do?” Ellie sat up, her voice excited. “That’s awesome.”

      Colter lay listening to the conversation, biting his tongue and clamping his jaw so tightly his head hurt. If he stopped Ellie, she’d just start again with the questions. They’d been through this many times, and Ellie never gave up. He didn’t understand her strong desire for a mother. He’d done everything he could to fill that gap, but he’d failed. And he had never felt that more than he did at this moment.

      The menstrual cycle talk had caught him off guard. Considering the nature of the subject, he thought he’d done a good job. Clearly he hadn’t. He wasn’t even aware his ears had turned red.

      Ellie needed a woman to discuss things with, that was very plain now. However, Marisa Preston was the last woman he wanted Ellie talking to.

      “Are you sure Santa didn’t send you?”

      “Ellie Kincaid, go to sleep this instant.” Colter’s voice shot through the darkness, and Ellie dived beneath the covers.

      “I gotta go to sleep before Daddy has a coronary,” she said. “That means a heart attack—Tulley told me.” Then she whispered in Marisa’s ear. “I’ll be at Dalton’s.” Ellie snuggled against Sooner and silence prevailed.

      Marisa stared into the glow of the fire with so many questions running through her mind. Why hadn’t Colter remarried? Ellie had said he’d loved Shannon. Maybe he still did.

      She’d thought the love she and Colter had shared was special—a once-in-a-lifetime love. She saw now that as a naive young girl, she’d been in love with love. She also saw that she’d needed to come here—to see Colter and his family. It was cathartic. This was what she needed to bury the past and get on with her life.

      And she prayed she could.

      COLTER TOSSED AND TURNED so much that his leg started to throb. Dammit. Would this night never end? At least Ellie had fallen asleep, and the quiet outside signaled that the storm had stopped.

      He sat up, grabbed a flashlight and made his way to the bathroom near the laundry room. A couple of Tylenols would help. He got a bottle of water, swallowed two pills and headed back to the den. As he did, the lights came on. Thank God. Looking at his watch he saw it was 5:00 a.m.

      The heat came on, but he stoked the fire and threw on a couple of logs. He glanced down at Marisa and Ellie sleeping on the floor. His eyes centered on Marisa, her blond hair disheveled, her features serene. She had that same appeal, that same look of innocence and beauty she’d had back then. He drew a deep breath. She wasn’t innocent or beautiful. Try as he might, though, he found himself wishing she could’ve been Ellie’s mother. The pain of that stabbed him.

      Marisa stirred and sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears.

      His stomach tightened at the gesture, and he remembered mornings like this when she’d wake and smile at him and the world became a brighter place. It had all been a lie, though. At the first sign of trouble, she’d given in to her mother and left him behind without even saying goodbye.

      “The lights are on,” she said in a sleepy voice.

      “Yeah. They just came on.” He walked to the sofa and sat on the arm, gazing down at her. He had to do this, so he might as well get it over with. “You came here to tell me something. What?”

      She blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. He wanted to listen, and she welcomed this opportunity. She’d decided it would be better for him not to know, but suddenly she changed her mind—maybe because his voice wasn’t so angry anymore.

      Searching for the right words, she glanced at Ellie, unsure of whether to talk in front of her.

      Colter followed her eyes. “She’s sound asleep and she doesn’t wake up until about seven.”

      Marisa swallowed. “I wanted to tell you why I left.”

      “Does it make a difference?”

      She looked him in the eye. “Yes—to me.”

      He shrugged. “You let your mother force you into leaving, and that pretty much said how you felt about me and the future we’d planned. What can you add to that?”

      “Have you ever wondered how she forced me?”

      “From what you said about her, she wielded immense power over you and your life. When she showed up, you caved and went home like the dutiful daughter.”

      Marisa shook her head. “No, it didn’t happen like that. I refused to go with her.”

      His eyes narrowed. “But you went.”

      “She didn’t leave me much choice. When I refused, she said she’d have you charged with statutory rape.”

      “What!”

      “There was a policeman waiting outside, and I knew she meant what she’d said.”

      “You were twenty-one.”

      She locked her fingers together. “I lied. I was only seventeen, a month from my eighteenth birthday.”

      He stood and jammed both hands through his hair. “Seventeen? I was ten years older than you. You were seventeen?”

      “Yes. My friend Stacy had a friend who knew someone who made fake IDs. We just wanted to have some fun, and that was the only way we could get into the casinos.”

      “You never said anything.”

      “You never asked.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ