Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (27 page)

CHAPTER 6

"Mommy's coming to get us soon," Sophie said to her stuffed bear from her hide-out under the table. "She's gone for a while, but she'll be back. You nap now, Buffy." She tucked the blanket around the bear. "When you wake up Mommy'll be here."

Brad felt his heart slamming against his ribs. At least Sophie wasn't clutching her blanket and bear and silently rocking back and forth in her squatted position under the table, but he wasn't sure what she was doing was any better. She was talking, but she was in another world, a world she'd created and didn't want to leave.

He ducked his head and peered under the table at her. "I'll have your macaroni and cheese ready in a few minutes, honey," he said, then turned to stir the noodles bubbling around in the boiling water on the stove. Grace returned, shortly after she and Jack were there, and brought several boxes of macaroni, along with a jar of peanut butter and one of homemade strawberry jam, and a loaf of fresh-baked bread. A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich still sat untouched on a plate on the table, and the small glass of milk beside it was no longer cold.

"I'll eat when Mommy gets here," Sophie said to him. She toyed with the plastic silver necklace the bear was wearing and arranged the big sheer pink bow that was tied around its neck. The bear was worn, but it had been stitched in several places. Brad could imagine Yvette sewing the thing up, lovingly, selflessly.

He glanced at the cardboard box sitting on the shelf where he'd placed it after leaving Justine's room at the lodge two nights before. He'd opened the box then and found Sophie's birth certificate on top and glanced at it briefly. Sophie Irina Meecham. Born almost nine months to the day Yvette left him standing on the train platform and told him she'd get in touch, but his assignment stretched into months, and by then he was beginning to tire of life on the move, and memories started to surface, and he could block them with writing. But he always intended to find Yvette, and now the time had run out.

"When Mommy comes back she'll take us to see Santa," Sophie told her bear. "We can talk to Santa then and tell him what we want."

Brad turned the stove down, set the spoon aside, and crouched so he could look at Sophie. "Mommy's in heaven, honey," he explained, again. "She can’t come back."

"Mommy'll be back," Sophie said, her expression a troubling blend of disinterest and unconcern. "Mommy never
not
comes back."

Brad felt his chest constrict, like being squeezed in a vise. "Sophie, look at me," he said, which of course Sophie didn't. "Mommy won't be back this time."

"It's Christmas," Sophie said. "Mommy's always here at Christmas. She helps me open gifts, and we put cookies out for Santa. Mommy'll be here later. She's gone to buy cookies. She'll help me write a note too. She always helps me write a note to Santa."

Brad crouched on his heels. "Sophie, Mommy won't be here this Christmas, but I'll help you write a note to Santa, and Justine and I will help you open your presents."

Sophie hugged her bear, heart-to-heart. Bear heart to Sophie's heart...

It's easy to keep things bottled up....

Offering another approach, Brad said, "Do you want to talk about Mommy? It helps to talk when you're sad." He wasn't sure what he was saying was true, at least not early on. The mind needs time to absorb and process things and allow them to seep into the body over time. He was only now dealing with something that happened eight years ago. For Jack it took three. But for a child it shouldn't be left to fester that long. Childhood was too short.

"I'll talk to Mommy when she gets here," Sophie insisted, toying with the bear's ear.

Brad stood and looked at Justine, who was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, silently watching, and he said to her under his breath, "What am I supposed to do? Force her to talk? She's got to face reality."

Justine shrugged. "Maybe she's not ready yet."

It was too damn painful to talk about...

Too true. It took him years to talk about his guilt in not cutting down the bodies, and it came out unexpectedly when he was sitting naked in a pool of water with Justine, but while he was fighting the urge to do with her what every other man wanted to do, she started telling him things about herself, and before long, he was pouring out his own gut and her nakedness didn't matter...

Your daughter's going through her own private hell... she needs you to carry her out...

And he felt totally inept when it came to reasoning with a child he hadn't known existed two days before, while also coming to terms with the death of a woman he'd planned to find again someday so they could pick up where they'd left off. Now, he'd always feel a hollowness as he watched Sophie grow up. Another punch to the gut. Until that moment, he hadn't factored in watching the little stranger under the table growing up in his custody. She'd been a situation to deal with for the short term, and make a decision about for the long term—maybe keep in touch some, and send money to whoever had her—then go on with his life....

You're the one who'll be with her for the duration...

The reality was almost overwhelming. When he'd married Jen, years back, he'd done so with the idea of starting a family and settling down when he got back from the assignment in Iraq. Then his world turned upside down when he came home and found her in bed with another man.

Deciding it was time to be a little more firm with Sophie, he drained the macaroni, dumped in the cheese powder and added milk and a chunk of butter, then mixed the stuff and spooned some into a bowl, which he set on the table. Crouching in front of Sophie again, he extended his hand to her, while saying, "Come on out, honey. You need to eat."

Sophie thrust his hand aside and scooted back, sending a chair behind her toppling over, and said in a firm voice, "I'll eat when Mommy gets here!"

Brad stood and stared at the bowl of macaroni and the uneaten sandwich and the cup of warm milk, at a loss what to do. He fixed what Sophie liked, but he couldn't force her to eat.

"Let me try something," Justine said, from her watchful viewpoint on the couch.

"Fine. Have at it," Brad replied, and waited to see what Justine had in mind.

She unfolded herself and stood on bare feet, her jean-clad legs slender beneath an oversized flannel shirt. Somehow she still didn't look ordinary, and he still wanted to take her to bed. But after it was over he'd have to dump her like the rest of the men in her life because he needed a mother for Sophie, and Justine was about as far removed from that role as a woman could be.

Yet, just before Sophie arrived he was considering taking his relationship with Justine a step further. It might have lasted. Children wouldn't have been an issue, so it would have been a matter of meshing lives that weren't all that far removed.

Justine walked up to him, and said, in a soft voice, "I have an idea that might work."

Brad found himself staring at her lips. If there hadn't been a kid under the table he'd kiss her. Hell, he'd sweep that oversized shirt off her and strip off her jeans and thong, and kiss her all over, concentrating on the parts that would bring tears of pleasure to her eyes, and her fingers curling into his back, and her lips parting so she could suck in air while he gave her the orgasm she'd never had...

"Are you ready to show me what I've been missing?" she asked, catching the focus of his attention, which had drifted down.

"I was ready the first time I saw you," he replied, raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Then all I need to do is get my head on straight and wear a bra and Mary Poppins briefs, which I plan to buy as soon as I can get to town." She gave him a sultry smile. "I'll model my new underwear for you and you can take it from there."

"You're not sounding much like Grace," he said.

"I know," Justine replied, "but I'm working on it. Go sit on the couch."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, curious.

"Tell Sophie a story." Justine reached for the jar of chocolate-covered hazelnuts Grace brought over earlier and dumped a few in a bowl. Taking the bowl, she sat on the floor, tucked her legs under her, peeked under the table, and said to Sophie, "Would you like to hear a Christmas story?"

"Mommy will tell me one when she gets here," Sophie replied.

"Mommy's not here right now and a little mouse from long ago wants me to tell you his story. It's only something the little mouse and I know about, so no one else can tell the story to you. Would you like to hear it now?"

There was silence for a few moments before Sophie replied, "Did the mouse talk?"

"No," Justine said. "Animals use a kind of sign language to let you know what's going on in their heads."

"I guess you can tell me," Sophie replied, "and I'll tell Mommy when she gets here."

Justine took a hazelnut from the bowl, and said, "One Christmas long ago, when I was a little girl about your age, I set out a chocolate-covered hazelnut for Santa and waited—" she put one chocolate-covered hazelnut under the table "—because I wanted to see Santa. But while I was hiding in a dark corner, waiting for Santa to come, a little mouse came out of his hole in the wall and sat on his haunches, and wiggled his little nose, and twitched his long whiskers because he smelled chocolate, and that little mouse lovvvved chocolate. So he picked up the hazelnut with his tiny mouse paws, popped it into his mouth, and scurried back to his hole. So I set out another hazelnut—" Justine put another nut under the table, "—and I waited. Again, the little mouse came out and took the nut, so I set another—" she placed a third beside the others, and waited.
              After a few minutes, Justine saw a little hand come out and snatch up one of the nuts.

"Oh, my goodness! I think there's a mouse in the house," Justine exclaimed, and heard a little giggle. "I guess I'd better set out another." Again a little hand came out and snatched it up, accompanied by a giggle. After Justine set out several more hazelnuts, one at a time, and got the same response, she said, "You know, maybe we should set some hazelnuts out for Santa, maybe put them on the table by the tree so the mice won't get them. What do you think?"

Sophie said nothing, but she eased out from under the table and waited. Justine handed her the bowl with the hazelnuts, and said, "If you put these by the tree, Santa will be happy to have something to eat during his long sleigh ride. It's a lot of work delivering all those gifts for boys and girls on Christmas."

Sophie went over to the Christmas tree that Justine and Brad had decorated with ornaments from the tree at the lodge, and set the bowl of nuts in place, then said to Justine, "I want to write a note to Santa."

Justine smiled, and replied, "Ask your Daddy if he has some paper and a pencil."

Sophie glanced at Brad and shook her head. "I don't have a daddy," she said. "You write the note." Justine looked at Brad, who stared at Sophie perplexed, as if at a loss what to do. Glancing around the room, Justine spotted a note pad. Then she took a ballpoint pen from the kitchen counter, sat on the couch beside Brad, and said to Sophie, "Okay, tell me what you want me to write to Santa?"

Sophie stepped up to stand in front of Justine, placed her hand on Justine's knee, and said, "I want you to write:
Dear Santa, Please bring Mommy back from heaven. Everyone says she's there and you have a sleigh with flying reindeer, so you can go up there and get her and bring her back. Thank you Santa. This will be the bestest Christmas ever. Sophie
." She tipped her head to see what Justine was writing. When she saw that Justine hadn't written anything, she said, "Aren't you going to write it for me?"

"I can't," Justine replied, "because Santa can't bring your Mommy back from heaven."

Sophie stomped her foot and said, in an assertive voice, "Yes Santa can. Tell him what I said. Santa can bring her back. Santa can do anything."

Justine sighed, then wrote a few words on the paper and set it aside. And Sophie crawled under the table and picked up her bear and wrapped him in her blanket and started rocking back and forth. Justine looked at Brad, who blew out a sigh between clenched teeth and said, under his breath, "It's gonna be hell tomorrow morning."

"I know," Justine replied, sitting on the couch beside him, "but we'll have to somehow get her through the day, maybe take her to the lodge to distract her. Later, we can have another Christmas for her, with a tree and presents."

Brad started to say something, then clamped his jaws shut and said nothing.

A few minutes later, Sophie crawled out from under the table, her bear tucked under one arm, the blanket bunched against her chest, and ignoring Brad completely, announced to Justine, "I want to go to bed now. Santa won't bring Mommy until I'm asleep. Will you tuck me in?" When Brad started to get up, Sophie glared at him, and said, "You can't tuck me in. You're not my daddy. I want her to do it." She looked at Justine, then turned and headed for the bedroom she was sharing with Justine.

As Justine stood to follow Sophie, she heard Brad say shit under his breath.

"That's very helpful," Justine said to him, with irony.

"Yeah, well, tucking a kid in bed who thinks a miracle's going to happen during the night warrants cussing." He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and went outside.