A Mother at Heart (10 page)

“I pray he will,” Jake replied, toying with the rest of his casserole. He took a few more mouthfuls, then set it aside, his hunger gone.

“Tilly told me that Fred had a heart attack a while ago.” Miriam's comment broke the silence. “I'm sure you're quite concerned about him now.”

Jake leaned back in the chair, nodding. “I get afraid when I think about his health. Anything could happen.” He looked out over the field, his legs stretched out in front of him.

“How old is Fred now?” Miriam asked.

“About sixty.” Jake sighed lightly. “Which used to seem very old when I was younger.”

“Parents aren't supposed to get old or sick.”

Jake glanced sidelong at Miriam, who leaned forward on her chair, elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her hands. She was staring out over the field, but Jake suspected she was thinking of her own mother.

“I'm sorry about your mother.” Jake shifted to face her, resisting the urge to touch her, to comfort her.

“It's been difficult….” Miriam stopped, her lower lip pulled between her teeth.

Jake didn't know what else to say so went back to his meal. He had never cared for Miriam's mother, but he knew that Edna had been a strong force in Miriam's life. Now Edna was dead, and what had happened was long ago.

There were questions he wanted to ask Miriam, things he wanted to know.

And what would that accomplish? he thought, turning away again. Do you want to find out how quickly she forgot you? Do you really want to know? His ego was as fragile as the next man's. Better let
it sit. Once she left, and the farm was sold, he would probably never see her again.

He finished his meal and got up, setting the plates inside the hamper. “Thanks for supper.”

Miriam nodded and got up, as well. She had been quiet, very unlike the Miriam he knew. Once again he wondered what had happened to her and whether he would find out while she was here.

Miriam closed the lid of the hamper and turned, just as Jake moved to pick it up. She stepped aside and watched as he put it in the car. He came back, and she turned to politely thank him, only to find him staring down at her, his expression unreadable.

“Have a good evening, Miriam,” he said quietly.

His deep voice touched a memory. He towered, overpowering, his eyes delving deep into her, searching. He shifted his weight, coming closer to her. For a heart-stopping moment, Miriam thought he might kiss her, the way he would have ten years ago.

Then he stepped back, making way for her to pass. She felt an illogical twinge of disappointment, then walked past him to Taryn.

“I'll be home in about an hour,” Jake said behind her. “If Tilly isn't there, do you mind waiting?”

“No,” she said without turning. “I don't mind.”

A beat of silence, then, “Thanks so much. For everything.”

She chanced a look over her shoulder, but avoided his eyes. “You're welcome,” she returned, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Bye, Daddy. I'll see you later,” Taryn called out.

By the time they got in the car, Jake was in the
tractor. As they drove away, Taryn turned around to watch her father as they drove away from each other.

Tilly wasn't at the farmhouse by the time they got there, so Miriam ran the bathtub for Taryn and helped her get ready for bed, listening to the child chatter about the cows, the baby calves and how much she loved her daddy.

A few minutes later, Taryn was kneeling on her bed, pulling a scrapbook from under her pillow. “This is my mommy's book,” Taryn said, eagerly holding it out to Miriam. “You want to look? There are pictures of you in it.”

Miriam hesitated.

“Please look,” Taryn said, pulling Miriam down onto the bed. She set the book on her lap and started turning the pages.

Miriam watched Taryn's small fingers quickly flip through until she found the place she wanted. Miriam wasn't eager to see what Paula might have put in the book, yet it held a strange fascination. Why did Paula want to know what her friend was up to? Why did she go to the bother of cutting out pictures of her husband's old girlfriend? Miriam wasn't naive enough to think that Paula kept them because of some sentimental attachment. The last phone conversation they had ever had was full of Paula's crowing over the victory she had achieved.

She had gotten Jake to take her to the prom.

“Here. They start here,” Taryn said with a note of triumph.

Miriam looked down at a picture of herself on the arm of a well-known actor. She was leaning against
him, clad in a shimmering sheath she had taken on a loan from a struggling designer.

Opposite it and on the next page were advertisements she had done. These were followed by more of her at a charity function escorted by a well-known fashion designer.

Miriam felt a moment of shame, thinking that Taryn, this sweet innocent child, had seen this part of her life. A part that Miriam wasn't proud of and had spent the last few years trying to live down.

“You had lots of boyfriends, too,” Taryn piped up. “You still have lots of boyfriends?”

“Not friends,” corrected Miriam sardonically. She closed the book and placed it on the side of the bed. “You don't need to keep this, do you?” She hated to think that Taryn had been exposed to a part of life that no girl of five should know about.

Taryn looked up at her, her expression hurt. “It was my mommy's.”

Miriam felt instantly contrite. “Of course. That makes it special, doesn't it.” Miriam sat on the bed beside Taryn, determined to prove herself worthy of this young child. “But you know what? Those pictures of me aren't who I am. And they aren't the kind of pictures a little girl like you should see. They are all pictures of big people doing silly things. Things you don't need to see.”

“Is it a sin?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Miriam repressed the urge to laugh, yet realized she had never considered her life in such a harsh glare before. Was it “sin”?

She wasn't sure that she was ready to categorize it so bleakly. It certainly was far removed from the
life she had lived here in Waylen—that much she was willing to concede.

“It isn't a sin to look at those pictures,” she said, neatly sidestepping Taryn's question. “But maybe we could take these ones of me out. Then it can be just a book about your mommy.”

Taryn considered this a moment. “But I like you. And I want a picture of you.”

“You know what?” Miriam said. “I have other pictures of me. I could send you some of those.” She had enough comp cards—surely, she could find a recent one that made her look like a normal person instead of the party-hardy girl she used to be.

“Okay.” Taryn smiled and snuggled down into her bed. “Now you have to say my prayers with me.” She closed her eyes, her hands folded on her chest, and began singing.

The young voice breathlessly singing the familiar words of “Jesus Tender Shepherd” touched a chord deep in Miriam's heart. If she closed her eyes, she could remember the smell of fresh laundry, and her mother sitting beside her on the bed, singing the song that asked Jesus to stay with her through the darkness, thanking Him for His care during the day.

Miriam swallowed a lump of emotion, suddenly unable to sing along.

Taryn finished on her own and peeked up at Miriam. “You have to help me.”

“I forgot the words,” Miriam fibbed, sniffing lightly. “Now say the rest of your prayers.”

Taryn closed her eyes and launched into a list of “please be with,” and named Fred, Tilly, Jake, a few friends from play school, and then, to Miriam's sur
prise, Taryn asked God to be with Miriam, asked Him to make her happy and not so sad.

Miriam bit her lip, struggling against an unexpected wave of sorrow. To be prayed for, to have someone concerned about her—when had that last happened in her life?

Stop being so maudlin, she told herself.

Ah, the strong voice of reason. Miriam surreptitiously wiped her eyes, took a steadying breath and waited for Taryn to finish her petitions.

When the child was done, she grinned up at Miriam again. “I always pray for you.”

“That's nice,” Miriam said with a smile. “Now go to sleep.”

“Are you going to kiss me good-night?”

Miriam saw a danger in that. As Jake had said, Taryn too easily became attached to people. In spite of Tilly, Fred and Jake's unwavering love, Miriam could see Taryn was hungry for the affection of a mother.

She knew this was her chance to let Taryn know her stay was temporary and to reinforce what Jake had asked of her. “You know what I'll do instead,” she said, her heart aching at the poignancy of the moment. “I'll give you a kiss in your hand and you can use it whenever you want. Okay?” Miriam didn't wait; she lifted Taryn's small hand and carefully placed a kiss in it. Then she curled her fingers around it and laid it beside the child on the bed. “There. Now you have a kiss from me that you can use when I'm gone.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don't live here. I'm only staying for a few more
days. Then I have to go back to New York. That's where I live.”

“But couldn't you stay? I want you to stay. I want you and my daddy…”

“Miriam doesn't live here, Pip.”

Jake's deep voice from the doorway made Miriam jump. How much had he heard? She glanced up at him, unable to stop her reaction to his presence.

He stood, leaning in the doorway, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his shirt open at the neck. The light from the hallway threw his face into silhouette. In that moment Miriam could see so clearly the difference between the young man she had loved and the man who now stood before her. His shoulders were broader, his chest deeper, even his relaxed stance showed her a level of confidence that only comes with age.

It also made him that much more appealing.

“She's only here for a little while, and then she's going back home.” Jake pushed himself away from the doorway and walked over to the bed. Miriam jumped up and stepped aside. But the room wasn't very large, and they bumped into each other in the process. Jake caught Miriam by the shoulders, and their eyes met.

It was only a split second, barely measured in a heartbeat, but in that moment her awareness of him compounded. She almost stumbled but regained her balance, thankful for the subdued light in the bedroom. No one could see Miriam Spencer, one-time It Girl and cover model, blushing at the touch of a man who still smelled like the dirt he had been cul
tivating all day. A man whose chin was rough with whiskers.

A man who didn't really want her around.

Miriam said a quick good-night to Taryn, and then left. Once downstairs she couldn't decide whether she should leave right away, or stay. Politeness deemed that she at least say goodbye to Jake, but she didn't know if she wanted to face him.

She cleaned up the kitchen, glad to keep busy, and, before she was finished, Jake came down the stairs.

“She settled in now?”

Jake nodded and dropped wearily onto a chair, tunneling his hands through his hair. He looked tired. She was sure he was thinking of Fred.

Miriam felt a surge of protectiveness toward him, a desire to run her hands over his head, to tidy the unruly waves, to tell him that everything would be okay.

He looked up at her, his mouth curved into a wry smile. “I want to thank you for taking care of Taryn. I've had a lot on my mind.”

Miriam clutched the towel closer, then walked over to the table and sat beside him, covered his hand with hers. She knew he was worried about Fred. She was, as well. “Fred is strong, Jake. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Jake took her hand between his, playing with it.

“I want to thank you for your help. I know I asked you to stay away from Taryn, but…” His voice trailed off.

She didn't want to feel a thrill at the warm touch of his hands, didn't want to look up into his eyes and feel lost again. But she did.

Her business debt seemed to hang over her head like an imprecation. It was wise to remember that. Jake was a good father, a sincere Christian, and she knew that she wasn't the kind of person he would marry. Not anymore.

Somehow the thought hurt beyond description. She didn't want to feel unworthy. She had spent enough of her youth carrying that stigma. Her mother unwittingly reinforced every teasing comment from schoolmates by criticizing her clumsiness, her inability to meet her mother's exacting standards. Miriam had managed to ignore her fellow students and to laugh off their comments, but her mother's had buried deep into her psyche.

Until Jake.

He had been the first man she had ever loved. The first person who had considered her beautiful.

Jake continued to play with her hand, his touch sending shivers curling through her. “I don't imagine you've had much chance to be around kids, yet you certainly have a way with Taryn.” He smiled carefully and tilted his head to one side, as if studying her. “What you did upstairs with her was a lesson in diplomacy and tact.”

Miriam shrugged the comment away, even as it warmed her to the very fingertips Jake now held. Praise from Jake always did that to her. Silly that even now, it could move her more than any compliment from a photographer or her agent. “She's a sweet child and very intelligent. I do find I have to be careful with her.”

“And you have been.” He held her eyes with his,
his mouth quirking up in a half smile. “Thanks again.”

Miriam couldn't have looked away if she'd tried. She wanted to say something to lighten the atmosphere, to give herself some emotional edge.

Instead she leaned forward, giving in to the attraction that was building within her, hoping she could pull this off. “Thanks, yourself,” she said quietly, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. But then she inhaled the earthy, farmer smell of him, her confidence wavering, her senses heightened by the contact.