Elizabeth August - Paternal Instincts

It had been several months since she’d sought their guidance. Her chin trembled as she recalled the last time she’d laid them out. It had been just after Maude’s heart attack. She’d gone to them hoping they would tell her that Maude would be all right. Instead, they’d told her that Death was at the door. Hating them because they were the messengers of news she knew was true but didn’t want to face, she’d put them away and had not wanted to look at them again.

But for the past couple of weeks a sense of uneasiness had been building within her and she needed to know its cause. Hesitantly, she began to spread the cards. Jamie’s card turned up first. Tears welled in her eyes. By the time Maude’s heart had given out completely, she’d found safe sanctuary for all the children under Roxy’s and her care except for the withdrawn ten-year-old. Roxy had tried to explain to the social services people that the boy needed to stay with her, that he was beginning to respond to her, but they’d explained that the law wouldn’t allow that and had assured her that they would take good care of him. She’d told them that she wanted to adopt him and they’d told her that they didn’t feel she could meet the required conditions. They’d even refused to tell her where he was. They’d said that he needed to make a complete break from her so that he could bond with his new family.

She knew the laws were made to protect the children and that the social services people were doing their best, but in Jamie’s and her case they were wrong. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe. Maybe the cards were telling her what she wanted them to tell her. She touched the card lovingly and said a silent prayer that a guardian angel was looking over the boy.

The next card brought a puzzled frown to her face. For approximately three years now The Hanged Man card had been one of the first two cards in any rotation. She’d given up trying to figure out why. Her instinct was to interpret it as a life in suspension. But that didn’t describe her life, at least not until Jamie had been taken from her. Tonight, however, it was the Knight of Swords that appeared.

“I could use a knight in shining armor,” she muttered. But she’d stopped believing in such myths a long time ago. Still, a glimmer of hope began to glow. The uneasiness she’d been feeling did resemble the kind of sensation a person experienced when waiting for something to happen or someone to arrive.

The next card extinguished the glimmer of hope. “The Lovers’ card.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. That card had no place in her life anymore. The deck was lying or playing games or merely being uncooperative. She gathered up the cards. “You’re mad because you feel neglected,” she accused them. “Well, if you continue to give me fairy tales, then you’ll be gathering dust for a long time more.” She shuffled the deck and dealt the cards once again.

The first two were the Knight of Swords and the Lovers’ cards. Scowling, she again gathered up the rest without looking and shoved them back in the box.

Turning his car onto the long dirt driveway that led to the farmhouse that had once belonged to Maude O’Malley, Eric was surprised by the feeling of homecoming that swept through him. With Maude gone, he’d expected a sense of emptiness. A little earlier, in the cemetery, standing beside her grave, he’d experienced sadness and a hollow sensation. He’d almost skipped coming to the house, but some force from within had insisted his pilgrimage would not be complete without seeing the old homestead one last time.

Drawing nearer, he saw a woman in jeans and a shirt on a ladder scraping paint. Her long brown hair was tied back with a bandanna. She was medium in build with curves in all the right places. Noticing his car, she stopped working and, as he parked, began to descend. Her movements were awkward. Worried that she might fall, he climbed out of the car and hurried toward her. But she was on the ground safely before he reached her.

Roxy’s gaze traveled over the blond, blue-eyed stranger. She judged his age to be in the early to midthirties. He looked pale and thin. His jeans and shirt were new. She could tell that because the jeans looked stiff and the button-down shirt still had crisp creases left from the factory folds. Probably one of Maude’s former boys who just got out of prison and has come looking for a handout or redemption, she mused acidly. Most of Maude’s boys had turned out well, but a few had been rotten apples, and they’d caused Maude a lot of grief by coming here with sad stories and conning her out of money she couldn’t afford to give. One had even used the farm to hide out from the police. But this one was going to learn that she wasn’t as forgiving nor as naive as Maude had been.

Eric judged the woman’s age to be near thirty. She was no raving beauty, but she would have been pleasant to look at if her expression hadn’t been so inhospitable. Those cold brown eyes of hers had probably intimidated many a man, he guessed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. I just wanted to drop by to see the place for old times’ sake.”

“It’s not much to look at.” Roxy’s shoulders squared with pride. “But I’m working on it.”

Eric’s gaze left her to view the huge old two-story farmhouse. It was in dire need of painting and the chimney needed repointing. One of the front windows was boarded over and the screen door was covered with patches. “Maude used to keep this place in great shape.”

Roxy’s gaze turned colder. “Money for major repairs has been pretty scarce the past few years. And now that Maude isn’t here anymore and neither are any of the boys, I have to do the work myself and hold down a full-time job in town.”

Realizing he’d offended her, Eric mentally kicked himself. He definitely needed to work on his people skills. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything critical by that It just hurts to see it this way.”

Roxy knew what he meant and her flare of anger died. “Yeah. Well, eventually it’ll look better.” Jamie’s small, trusting face filled her mind. “But that’s not going to happen if I stand around talking to you. If you’ve come looking for a handout, there’s nothing to give. If you’ve come looking for Maude she’s…” Her throat constricted, refusing to say the word dead. “She’s at rest.”

Eric saw the flash of pain in the woman’s eyes. She’d obviously cared a great deal for Maude. “I know. I received a letter from a Roxanne Dugan.”

Roxy’s gaze narrowed on her visitor. During Maude’s last days, she’d given Roxy a very short list of names and asked her to write them letters of thanks for their support during the years. Roxy had known all of them except for one. “I’m Roxanne Dugan.”

Eric extended his hand. “I’m Eric Bishop.”

Mentally Roxy put a check by that name on the list. That was the one she hadn’t known anything about except what Maude had told her, and that hadn’t been much. He’d been one of Maude’s boys. After he left the farm he’d become a career man in the military and had been stationed all over the world, but he’d never forgotten the farm, and he sent checks regularly. Accepting the handshake, Roxy was startled by the pleasure the contact caused…it carried a feel of warmth and security. “I’m sorry I was so brisk. A few of Maude’s former boys came back to take advantage of her. The trouble some of them caused has left me suspicious of strangers,” she said as he released her hand.

Eric nodded his understanding, then his gaze shifted back to the house. “I would have come sooner to pay my respects but I’ve been in the hospital. I only just read your letter yesterday.”