time she didn’t think about how much she needed to get some maternity clothes. Her mind was firmly fixed on Angie, and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, looking for any key to the lock around Angie’s heart.
She didn’t know the girl well yet, but she’d picked up on a few things. Maybe riding with her tomorrow would help loosen the steel bands Angie insisted on wrapping around herself. Or maybe not.
The truth was, Hope felt even more at sea now than she had this morning. More unanswered questions faced her than before.
But she made up her mind that she wasn’t going to give up on Angie, no matter how hard it was.
Because, frankly, she could see herself in that young woman. The self that was angry, bitter, hurting, betrayed and all the rest of it. She just didn’t make a show of it.
Angie was crying out for help in all the wrong ways.
Maybe.
* * *
Downstairs, Cash poured himself a bourbon and carried it into his office. He sat staring at the darkened computer screen, knowing he should take care of some business, but his mind was unwilling. He had too much else to think about.
There was Angie, of course. There was always Angie. His daughter was a puzzle within a puzzle, and he couldn’t see the first chink or move to make. His repertoire of fatherly actions was limited, no question. He had no real experience to guide him, and the years lost between them weren’t helping.
But he’d been struck by Hope’s comment about Angie being angry because her mother should have been saved. He hadn’t considered that before at all. To him, the loss of life for someone so young was the same, no matter the means. But Hope had cast it in a different light, and he would have bet that she was right. Sick people were supposed to get well unless it was something like cancer, and how much more true that must seem for someone Angie’s age. The idea that an infection could kill someone so swiftly must be beyond her ability to believe.
Then there was Hope herself, who had until recently led a charmed life it seemed. Now she was cast alone, friendless and penniless on the waters of a world she knew nothing about. When he thought about the fact that she hadn’t yet seen a doctor about her pregnancy, anger burned in the pit of his stomach. He simply couldn’t imagine people who thought the way her family evidently did. No care for the child, no real care for Hope, who was their daughter. More concern for a guy who might be a senator one day, a guy who wasn’t even family.
Twisted. Very twisted.
He rolled the glass slowly between his hands, warming the bourbon and thinking about his newest employee. Maybe she would work out, maybe she wouldn’t. He certainly wouldn’t hold her accountable if she couldn’t get through to Angie. Hell, he’d been trying for months now.
But he could ensure she had a place to stay until this baby came, and that she received decent care. That seemed the least he could do.
She was an awfully attractive woman. It was hard to look at her without noticing her appeal. Given her past, though, he put a big mental off-limits sign on her. No way could life on a ranch hold her long-term, and more importantly, she’d been raped. It’d be a long time before she’d be inclined to see men as anything but a threat. Couldn’t blame her for that.
Although he had to give her credit for the way she had handled this day. She’d accepted a job from a strange man and had come home with him. She must be desperate beyond belief to cross those hurdles as bravely as she had. “Single father” in that ad should have been enough to make her skip even calling.
The fact that she had gathered her courage to call him told him plenty. Hope Conroy was at the end of her rope to the point that she was willing to take a huge risk.
Desperate enough that maybe she hadn’t even evaluated the risks he might pose. More frightened for herself and her baby than anything else.
Understanding drove through him like a spike. He supposed that made her tougher than a lot of people. Surprising, given her life until recently. Or maybe he didn’t really understand that, either. Regardless, she had a lot of backbone. Or maybe she was past thinking clearly about some things.
Either way, a decent man owed her some protection. That much he could do.
Tomorrow was another day, he reminded himself, sipping his whiskey. He needed to wrap up a few things before they got out of hand, then head up to bed. It was the time of year when 5 a.m. seemed to come awfully early.
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