The Other Laura Read online

  His face darkened. “It never came up.”

  “This is my past we’re talking about. My daughter!”

  “My daughter. I raised Abby, fed her, walked her and helped her through teething. It was me sitting with her through chicken pox and earaches. I put clothes on her back and food on her table. I kissed her knees after she wrecked bicycles and read her stories at night. I’m her daddy, not that sidewinder in there.” He jerked his hat so low on his forehead his eyes were hidden. “And I’m ten times the mother you ever were, too.”

  She forced down her anger, swallowed it. She’d discuss this properly with Ryder later. “So what are the legal details? What are his rights?”

  “You have sole custody. He’s supposed to pay child support, but he never has. He’s only been around to see Abby six or seven times in the past six years. You always let him see her, but not alone, and it’s not smart to let him take her any place, either.”

  “Has he hurt her? Threatened her?”

  Looking as if he’d rather swallow razor blades than answer, Ryder whispered, “No.”

  “So other than him being delinquent in child support, there’s no reason to deny him visitation.”

  “No.”

  That one word looked as if it was breaking Ryder’s heart. Laura fought down tears. She touched his arm. “What should I do?”

  He turned away. “It’s up to you, darlin’.”

  “You’re her father.”

  “Stepfather: If you want to shoot Abby to the moon, there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop you” He did an about-face and stalked away.

  “Ryder!”

  He slammed through the door on the opposite side of the courtyard.

  Torn, not knowing what to do or even what was the right thing to do, she wavered. The door where Ryder had disappeared eased open. Abby peered around the frame.

  Laura urged the girl to join her at the fountain. Hugging herself against the wind, Laura sat on the wide pool rim. Thunder boomed from storm clouds far over the mountains.

  “Did your father tell you Donny Weis is here to visit?”

  Eyes narrowed with mutiny, Abby nodded. She clenched and unclenched her hands and shuffled her feet like a racehorse in the chute.

  “Do you want to see him?”

  “He’s not my daddy, Mama! Daddy is Daddy!”

  “Has Donny Weis ever...hurt you? Does he hit you?”

  Abby shook her head. She looked ready to cry.

  There were other ways to harm a child. “If you want to see him, then we’ll see him. If not, then you don’t have to.”

  “I don’t like him. I don’t wanna see him.”

  Torn between wanting to do the right thing and needing to protect her child, Laura dangled her fingers in the cold water.

  “I don’t want to see him, Mama.” Abby wriggled against Laura’s leg. “He’s mean and he don’t like me. All he wants to do is talk to you. He tells me to shut up.” Her chin and lower lip quivered. Her big eyes turned liquid. “He makes you act mean.”

  Laura caught the little girl to her and buried her nose against Abby’s hair. “I won’t act mean to you, honey, never, ever. Cross my heart and hope to die. You’re my baby and I love you and I’ll never hurt you.”

  Abby wrapped her arms around Laura’s neck and squeezed with all her wiry strength. “I love you, Mama,” she whispered.

  Laura straightened and smoothed messy hair off Abby’s face. “So you go on in the kitchen with Mrs. Weatherbee. I’ll tell Donny Weis he has to go home. Okay?” She’d make up for whatever wrong she might be doing later... after she knew the full story, and after Abby was old enough to make rational decisions about her biological father.

  She joined Donny in the living room. The man had helped himself to a snifter of brandy.

  He swirled the brandy, reminding Laura of an old black-and-white movie where all the women were dolls and all the men were dramatically debonair. “Where’s the kid?”

  “She’s not feeling very well. You should have called beforehand so we could plan for your visit. This is a most inconvenient time ”

  “You’ve changed,” he said. “You don’t look the same. You don’t sound the same. You don’t even act the same. What does Ryder think about this?”

  His intimate tone rankled. His failure to argue about her allowing him to see Abby rankled even more. How could Ryder conceal this part of her past from her? Had he honestly thought she’d never find out? “I’m very sorry, but you need to leave. Like I said, this is a bad time.”

  “Laura, Laura, Laura, after all we’ve been through. You don’t remember me at all?” He raised the snifter to his lips. The tip of his tongue darted out, lapping at the liquor. “We had some great times, baby.”

  Not only couldn’t she remember him, she couldn’t imagine why she’d have had anything to do with him. He gave her the creeps.

  But he was Abby’s father.

  She sat on the edge of a chair and folded her trembling hands on her lap. “I’m very sorry...Donny. I have changed. I’d like to remember you, but I don’t.”

  Donny sat, too. He peered intently at her face. “If I didn’t know you were Laura, I’d swear you weren’t. Nothing about you is the same. What happened?”

  “It was a car accident.”

  “Way I heard it, it was no accident.”

  She lifted her shoulders “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything before I awakened in the hospital. Ryder said it was probably a robbery.” She waggled her left hand. “They stole my wedding rings.”

  “That’s low. Do the police know who did it?”

  She shook her head. “The robber used my ATM card, but other than that there aren’t any clues. No witnesses. None of the jewelry reported stolen has turned up.” She balked about telling Donny that Becky Solerno still considered Ryder the prime suspect. That was none of her ex-husband’s business.

  Donny whistled. “Leave town for a few months and everything goes to hell. I’m real sorry to hear about this, Laura. I really am.”

  Maybe he wasn’t so terrible after all. She smiled weakly. “I’m much better now, thank you.”

  “I just can’t get over the way you look.”

  Self-conscious, she lowered her face. She knew he meant she looked ugly.

  “If I passed you on the street, I’d never recognize you. You could be anybody. So, uh, how are you and Ryder getting along?”

  His question had an undertone that made her hackles rise again. The vague good feelings wisped away. Her thigh muscles tensed. She wanted to escape. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern. You must excuse me, I have to help Mrs. Weatherbee.” She waited a beat for him to move, but he remained still. She stood. “Please call before you visit again.”

  “All right. I can do that.” He stood.

  They were the same height, and his sweetish cologne reached her nose. After he finally left, Laura wanted to take another shower to wash his sliminess away. Thoughtful, wondering how much more about her past Ryder had deemed fit to conceal from her, she approached the bar. Not being a drinker, she fingered decanters and bottles before selecting a bottle of Kahlua. It smelled comforting, like coffee. She poured a healthy dollop into a glass and filled the glass the rest of the way with soda.

  The drink tasted awful, matching her mood. Nose wrinkled, holding her breath, she sipped the fizzy, coffee-flavored drink and gagged on its not-quite-sweetness.

  “Laura?” Ryder said from behind her. “I saw Weis leave. Abby told me you said she didn’t have to visit with him.”

  Anger tumbled willy-nilly through her, tightening her ribs and tensing her belly. Her forehead ached. The low, chronic throb in her back pulsed sharply.

  “We’re going to talk, Ryder.” She tried another sip of the drink, but it was too nasty even for her mood. She set down the glass. “Right now.”

  “I never expected Weis to show up.”

  “You mean, you hoped he never would.” She made herself turn around. The si
ght of him worsened the pain in her heart. She did love him, with all her heart and soul, but love based upon what? His kindness, his generosity... it certainly wasn’t because of his openness and honesty.

  He shuffled his feet and jammed his hands in his back pockets. He looked rather young at the moment. Young and caught. “You’re mad at me,” he said.

  “Mad doesn’t begin to cover it. Why didn’t you tell me you’re my second husband?”

  He caught his lower face in his hand and pulled his jaw. He muttered something she didn’t catch.

  “What was that?”

  He lifted his unhappy gaze. “Fourth husband.” He cleared his throat. “Only I’m not supposed to know about husbands one and two.”

  Her vision swam and she felt certain that at any moment the top of her head would fly off. She caught the back of a chair for support. Like a creaky elderly woman unsure of her balance, she held fast to the chair back and arms as she made her way around to the seat. Her legs wobbled so badly, her hips hurt. “I want you to explain what that means.”

  Ryder sat as if fearing the chair might collapse under his weight. Hunched over, he dangled his clasped hands between his knees.

  “Well?” She urged him to speak. “I want the truth, Ryder Hudson. I want it right now.”

  “The only husband you ever admitted to was Weis. I found out about the others after we got hitched. My agent thought you were a gold digger out to rip me off, so he hired a private investigator to check up on your past.”

  “And?” She didn’t want to hear this, but she had to.

  “You married the first time when you were sixteen. He was a garage mechanic ten years older than you. He drank and beat you. I reckoned you hopped out of one fire into another.”

  “Because my mother... drank.”

  “And beat you, too. The marriage broke up when you were twenty. You went to Vegas and got a job in a casino. You hooked up with a wise guy named Jimmy Langella. He beat hell out of you, too.”

  Shocked, she raised a hand to her throat and toyed with the soft lace on her collar.

  “He died. Officially, his death was ruled accidental, but gossip said he was murdered.”

  “What happened to me?”

  “You got a lot of money and a taste for the good life.”

  “Then I marned Donny.” The only thing that kept her from collapsing was her inability to remember any of her sordid past.

  “He lasted a lot longer than the other two. He liked spending your money and I reckon you were happy to let him do it. I met you at an art-show reception in Las Vegas.” He chuckled weakly. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw you. You wore red. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life. I still remember what you said to me.”

  She feared it wasn’t anything romantic.

  “You looked me up and down and said, ‘You sure are tall enough, cowboy, but only time will tell if you’re good enough.’ You roped me, but good. After that, nothing mattered except having you for my own.” His face darkened. The rims of his ears turned red. “I didn’t care you were still married to Donny Weis.”

  She clapped both hands to her mouth.

  “It was my doing, darlin’. I wouldn’t let you be. I think I’d have killed Weis if he hadn’t turned you loose. Then you disappeared on me.”

  “I went back to Donny?”

  “I’m thinking he’s the only man you ever loved all out. You broke my heart. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I was miserable. You got pregnant to try keeping your marriage together, but Weis dumped you and the kid. When you turned up on my doorstep, I was happy to have you back. We went to Vegas and you divorced Weis and married me.”

  “I see.”

  “Marriage never suited you much. You made it clear the only reason you married me was because of my money, but not even money was ever enough. I tried to make you happy. Gave you everything you wanted. Built this house for you. Raised Abby as my own.” His head quivered in mournful negation. “Nothing was ever enough.”

  “Did I ever love you?” She couldn’t muster more than a whisper.

  “No.”

  A fat tear plopped on her dress. She swiped the back of a hand across her eyes. “You loved me and I...hurt you.” She didn’t want to know any more, but she had to know. “So I cheated on Donny. Did I cheat on you?”

  A long pause preceded his soft answer. “I dunno.”

  She heard the he he wanted to believe. She pressed her forearm against her aching belly. “Is there anything else?”

  He shook his head. “You’ve changed. You aren’t the same woman.”

  Not the woman he knew, not the woman he’d once loved.

  “Do you...want me to go away? I’m strong enough now to live on my own.”

  “No!” He jumped to his feet and crossed the distance between them in two long strides. His eyes glittered with blue heat. “The past is past, Laura. You’re different. We’ve got a chance. We can start over”

  “What happens if I start remembering? What happens if my brain heals and I return to being what I was before? I don’t want to hurt you. Or Abby. Or anybody, ever again!”

  “You’re not leaving me,” he said fiercely. “You can’t.”

  “We don’t have a marriage. From the sounds of it, I don’t know if we ever will.” She closed her eyes and sagged against the chair back. “Oh, Ryder, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me.”

  “You aren’t taking Abby away from me.”

  She looked up at him. “Abby? I...”

  “I don’t know what Weis said to you and I sure don’t know what kind of schemes you two are concocting, but I’ll fight both of you tooth and nail. I’ll fight you to the death.”

  “This doesn’t have to do with Abby —”

  “It has everything to do with her, damn it! I let you put me through hell, treat me like a dog, gave up my home to build you this blasted house. I did it for Abby. She’s mine, Laura. Mine. You aren’t taking her away from me, and Weis isn’t getting his claws on her, either.”

  Realization hit with such clarity, it felt physical. He’d do anything, suffer any pain, tolerate any humiliation, give her anything, say anything if it meant keeping his daughter.

  He’d even stay married to a woman he despised.

  “I’d never take her away from you.”

  “You’ve got that straight.” He stepped back, his head raised and nostrils flared. “If you try, I’ll stick you in a nuthouse. I’ll lock you away forever.”

  Hearing his fear, seeing his dark blue eyes snapping with pain and panic, depressed her. No wonder she’d been miserable before. A loveless marriage, knowing her husband cared more about his stepchild than he did his own wife, knowing he’d wanted her only for her looks.

  Sweeping past him, pushing away his attempts to take her arm, she blindly made her way to her room. She closed the door and sagged against it.

  He’d never love her. Never.

  Chapter Eight

  “Mama?”

  The mouse-soft whisper wrenched Laura’s heart. She rolled over on the bed. Fumbling at the bedside, she found the lamp and turned it on. Her daughter hung back at the edge of the pale gold-tinged light. “Hello, Abby. How was summer camp today?”

  “I knocked, Mama.” Abby teeny-tiny baby-stepped toward the bed. She clutched her hands together over her tummy. Her big eyes were scared and worried. “I knocked lots and lots, but you didn’t answer.”

  “I didn’t hear you, honey. I was sleeping. I’m sorry.” Sighing, feeling as if her limbs weighed a thousand pounds apiece, she dragged herself upright and fluffed a pillow. Sitting up made her a little dizzy, and she glanced guiltily at her untouched lunch tray. She patted the mattress beside her. “Come on up.”

  Abby climbed onto the bed. Laura wrapped an arm around the child’s shoulders. Abby said, “You didn’t go swimming today.”

  “I didn’t feel like swimming.”

  “You didn’t swim yesterday and yesterday afore that. You wo
n’t come for supper. Mrs. Weatherbee says you got vapors. What are vapors? Are you sick, Mama?”

  She wished she was vapor and could disappear. She wanted to go away. Dig a hole in a desert and bury herself. “I’m not sick. Don’t you worry about me, honey. I’m fine.”

  Huge tears rolled down Abby’s cheeks.

  Laura hugged her tighter. “I swear, I’m not sick! I’m okay, really.”

  “You gonna go back in the hospital?”

  Deep and horrifying shame washed through Laura. Wallowing in misery was stupid and self-pitying, but harmed no one. Playing the not-so-noble martyr, staying out of Ryder’s way, harmed nothing and accomplished nothing except to give her more fuel for the embers of selfpity. But frightening a little girl was inexcusable. Even if Ryder didn’t want a wife, Abby desperately needed a mother.

  “Here, snuggle with me.” She scooted down and hugged Abby to her belly. She pulled the coverlet over both of them. Abby smelled of sweet baby-sweat and crayons and fabric softener. “Mama’s a little sad right now, that’s all, honey.”

  “Why are you sad, Mama?”

  “It’s...it’s a grown-up thing.”

  “Daddy’s sad, too. Are you sad like him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Abby shrugged. She fiddled restlessly with the appliquéd trim on the coverlet. “I dunno. He just looks sad. And he didn’t laugh at my riddle. He always laughs at my riddles.”

  Laura’s chest tightened. Her eyes burned. She rocked them both, seeking comfort from her baby’s warm, solid little body. Abby deserved so much. A good home, a good education, parents who loved her, cherished her, kept her safe and taught her right from wrong.

  Sad parents who avoided each other, hurt each other, threatened each other and refused to laugh at a little girl’s jokes—that she didn’t deserve.

  “You make me feel better,” she whispered against Abby’s ear.

  Abby giggled and squirmed.

  “You’re the best reason for living in the whole wide world.”

  “That tickles, Mama!” She scratched at her ear. Wriggling, she turned in Laura’s arms and pulled the covers to her nose.