JUSTIFIED DECEPTION Page 18

  Ruth looked at the face of the man she'd thought she was falling in love with, and said, in a cool, dry tone, "No, I don't know the rest. From what I heard Brad tell you, you and your wife said nothing at all to them about adopting, then suddenly you had Annie. We all know that couples sometimes wait years for a child, yet you managed to get one in record time. You had to have had reservations about that?"

  Matt took so long to reply, Ruth wondered if he'd heard her. She started to repeat the question, when he said, "Yes, I did have reservations, but I needed a child to save my marriage, and the opportunity came at the right time, and the moment I held Annie and was told she was mine, I didn't ask any more questions. Not even to myself."

  "So you admit you've had some suspicions over the years?"

  "Yes, I've had suspicions," he conceded. "But I never imagined that she'd been kidnapped, only that there could be loopholes in the adoption for her biological mother to come forward and take her back. In fact, I've lived in fear of that." He reached for her. "Honey, I'm so sorry."

  Ruth backed away, so enraged by the reality of what Matt had done that at first the words didn't come. But when they did, she cried, " You're sorry! Do you have any concept of the living hell I was going through while you were saving your damn marriage with a child you bought in a quick sale!? I hate you for this, and nothing you say or do will change that. Nothing will ever give me back the years with my child that you stole from me! And I will get her back. I'm her mother and she belongs with me!"

  When she turned to rush out of the room, Annie was standing in the doorway, her face as rigid as a mask. When Ruth went to reach for her, she pushed her away, rushed around her and ran into Matt's arms, crying as if her heart would break.

  Ruth stared at them—Annie's little arms clutching Matt, Matt stroking her hair and holding her against him while peering over the top of her head at Ruth—and for the most bizarre moment in her life, Ruth felt guilty for causing the people she loved most so much grief. Before she came into their lives they were happy. Annie lived in a world where she was secure, a world in which she was loved unconditionally. And now, the woman she trusted most had dared to steal her away from the person she loved most in the world.

  Between sobs, Annie said, "Daddy, don't let her take me away. I don't want to leave here. I hate her. I don't want her for my mommy. I just want you. Please don't let her take me away."

  Deep sobs wracked her little body.

  Matt tucked his cheek against Annie's head and said, "No one will ever take you away from me, honey. I can absolutely promise you that." He looked at Ruth then, and Ruth nodded in agreement. Because the fact was, she could not take Annie away from Matt, no matter how much she'd been wronged. Nor could she marry Matt, because she could never forgive him for the devastating, heartbreaking years of terror and turmoil and psychological trauma that could have been prevented if he'd just done what he knew in his heart was right.

  Turning from the sight of them, she left to go and pack her belongings. She would not walk out of Beth's life, but she could not stay at the Kincaid Ranch any longer either.

  ***

  It was well past midnight by the time Ruth finished gathering her personal effects and packing her bags. She had just snapped off the light and crawled into bed when she heard the door to her bedroom open, and looked up to see Matt's tall frame standing in the doorway.

  "I saw the light under the door a few minutes ago so I know you're still awake," he said.

  "Can you come downstairs? We need to talk."

  Ruth turned her back to him. "I'm too upset to talk to you right now, Matt. Just go away."

  "You have a right to be upset," Matt said, moving closer to the bed, "but we can't leave things like this. At least come downstairs and hear me out."

  "I'm leaving here tomorrow," Ruth said. "You can write whatever it is you want to tell me in a letter. Now, please go."

  "This will not be hashed out in a letter, Ruth," Matt said. "We can either talk downstairs, or I'll come sit on the bed and we'll talk it out here." There was no innuendo in his tone, only heartfelt desperation.

  "Alright," Ruth said, wearily. "I'll come downstairs. Give me a few minutes."

  Matt left the room, closing the door behind. As he made his way down the stairs, he wasn't sure how he would approach Ruth. She had every right to hate him. He had put her through hell.

  And even though he'd gone through his own kind of hell over the years, worrying if Annie could be taken away from him, he could not deny that if he had gone to the authorities when he'd first had doubts, Ruth would have been spared four years of unimaginable despair. There seemed no way he could ever make it up to her, and she had every reason to hate him for as long as she lived. But he also hoped that maybe, somewhere in her heart, she could find forgiveness.

  When Ruth entered the living room, he saw at once how tired and drawn her face looked.

  And it was obvious she'd been crying. She pulled her robe around herself and sat stiffly on the edge of the couch and watched him solemnly, waiting for him to speak.

  He started to reach for her hand, but she drew it away and crossed her arms protectively around herself. "What is it you want to say?" she asked, her words terse.

  "Honey—"

  " Stop!" She raised a stiff hand in protest. "Don't call me that. I'm not your honey, or your sweetheart. I'm nothing to you, just as you're nothing to me. As for the situation with Annie, she'll stay here with you because I believe she'd be terribly unhappy if I took her away. But I'll look into moving to Cedar Grove where I can see her on a regular basis." She stared at him, eyes holding contempt, face as impregnable as a fortress, and waited for his response.

  Her cold account weighed heavily on him. Although he understood her refusal to work things out between them, he'd thought her feelings for him went deeper, that theirs had been one of those rare and special relationships that could withstand adversity. But he'd also read that there were two things in life that tore marriages apart: adultery, and the death of a child.

  Although theirs wasn't a marriage, their lives had come together for the sake of Annie. But for Ruth, she'd lost a child, then found her, then had her torn from her again. Yet she was willing to walk away from the child she loved and lost because it was right for her child. But if she could love him just a little, they could work things out. There had been a time when he was certain she loved him, that her feelings went deeper than simply a scheme to marry just to get her child back.

  Looking at her sad eyes, he said, "Then you never loved me, not even a little?"

  For a few moments she seemed at a loss for words. Then her mouth drooped in a cheerless line and her eyes welled with tears, and she said, "Maybe at first, but you gave me an ultimatum that didn't include love or marriage."

  He couldn't deny that. From the day she walked into the kitchen in her western-cut shirt and tight jeans and caught him by surprise, all he could think of was getting her in bed. But somewhere between then and now he fell in love, deeply and completely in love with the woman who'd given birth to Annie. "Just because I said I wouldn't marry until Annie was grown and gone didn't mean I didn't love you. I even told you I did."

  Her face guarded, she said, "You told me that at the river, when I was doing things you wanted me to keep doing, and you said things you didn't mean."

  "But I did mean them then," he said. "I just didn't realize it until I'd lost you. But if it's love you want, honey" —he interlaced his fingers with hers and could feel the tension ebbing— "I've loved you since that first riding lesson when you planted your hands on your hips and accused me of thinking you were ornerier than a mule with a burr under its blanket. And that night on the porch, when I took you in my arms and held you, my love grew stronger. And when you gave me those damn flowered prissy pants and demanded I wear them, I loved you all the more. The bigger question is, could you learn to love me after what I put you through? You told me you loved me at the river, and I know why now. I would have done
the same if Annie had been taken from me. But if you'll agree to marry me, I'll do everything in my power to make things right."

  She blinked her red-rimmed eyes, looked at him with wistful longing, and said, “But the only reason you're asking me to marry you now is because of Annie.”

  “You're right. It is because of Annie," he admitted. "She's the most important person in my life. And I happened to have fallen in love with the only woman on the face of the earth who I know would never walk away from her.” He kissed her then, a long, lingering kiss that was filled with tenderness and heartfelt love. There would be a lifetime for feverish, passionate kisses. For now, he just wanted to hold her.

  When he moved his lips from hers to reinforce his love with words, she reached up and touched his face, the imprint of her hand on his cheek like a brand, and said to him in what he would one day look back on as the most remarkable moment in his life, "I don't need to learn to love you because I already do, with all my heart."

  "Then you will marry me?” he ventured.

  "Yes," was her simple reply.

  ***

  Ruth was insistent that she talk to Annie and try to win back her love, and trust, before informing her that they'd be getting married. She found Annie sitting on the moss-covered log of an ancient downed cedar, a large stick in her hand, jabbing it in agitated thrusts at a rotten stump.

  When Annie saw her coming, she pressed her lips in disapproval and glared at Ruth with a look of condemnation on her face that said it all. Still, Annie didn't rush off as Ruth had feared.

  Ruth sat on the log beside her, and after a few minutes of strained silence, she said, "Annie, I'll never take you away from your daddy. I promise you that."

  When Annie made no reply, Ruth said, "Remember that little girl I told you about?"

  Annie looked at her then, and her anger began to fade, replaced by curiosity. "The little girl named Beth?" she asked.

  "Yes," Ruth replied. "Beth was my daughter, and she was stolen from me when I wasn't looking. We don't know who stole her, or how it happened, but your daddy ended up adopting her because he wanted a little girl, and that's how you came to be with him instead of with me."

  Anne's face grew troubled. Then she blinked several times, and said, "Beth is me?"

  "Yes, sweetheart. Beth is you. You are the little girl who was taken from me four years ago.

  But I love you just as much as your daddy does, and all I want is for you to be happy. If staying here at the ranch with your daddy is what makes you happy, then that's just how it will be. I'll never take you from him again."

  "But you lied to me," Annie said. "You told me we were going on the bus to see my daddy.

  But my daddy was mad with you when he took me from you."

  Ruth realized that the only way to correct a lie was with the truth, even if Annie might be too young to fully understand. "Lying to you was wrong," she said, "but I was scared because I had finally found you, and I was afraid I'd lose you again. It was stupid of me to do that, and to scare your daddy the way I did, taking you from him the way I had. But he did what was right and brought you back here where you belong. I'm so sorry for lying to you sweetheart, and I promise I'll never, ever lie to you again, as long as I live. I hope you can believe that."

  While Annie seemed to be digesting the information, instead of the short, agitated movements of the stick, she began tapping it lightly against the ground. Then she tossed it aside, and said, "Will you be going away now?"

  There was sadness in Annie's tone that Ruth found hopeful. "I will if that's what you want."

  Annie looked at her, tears misting her eyes, and said, "Could you come to the ranch sometime so we could go riding or swimming?"

  Ruth curved a finger beneath Annie's chin and lifted so she could look into Annie's big sad eyes, and said, "What if I stayed right here at the ranch? That way we could go riding and swimming anytime you wanted. Would you like that?"

  Annie's eyes grew worried, and her brows drew together as she looked at Ruth, and said,

  "Are you still mad at Daddy?"

  "No, sweetheart," Ruth replied. "I love your daddy. I could never stay mad at him."

  "Would you be my mommy then?" Annie asked, a look of expectation on her face.

  "I already am your mommy," Ruth said. "And if I marry your daddy, we'll be a real family.

  Would you like that?"

  Annie gave Ruth a disarming smile, and said, "Could I call you mommy then?"

  Ruth's eyes filled with tears of joy. "Yes, sweetie, you surely can."

  Annie hopped down from the log and said, "Can we go tell Daddy now?"

  Ruth looked in the distance and saw Matt watching. She gave him a thumbs up, and Annie, catching the direction of her attention, rushed off to make her announcement.

  ***

  They were married on a cool, crisp fall day in a small chapel in Cedar Grove. Ruth"s father accompanied Ruth down the aisle, and Annie stood sandwiched between Matt and Ruth in a ceremony that reunited the family and joined Ruth and Matt in marriage. Matt"s entire family, all the ranch hands, including Edith, and most of the residents of Cedar Grove came for the occasion, standing in a long line outside the chapel afterwards to throw rice at the newlyweds.

  The honeymoon was brief. The trial that followed, which ultimately convicted the conspirators in the child-stealing ring, seemed endless. But it was over and Matt was finally Annie"s legal father.

  Ruth sat in an overstuffed chair in her parents" living room and waited for Matt and Annie to emerge from Beth's old bedroom. It was their first visit to Portland since the end of the trial, and the old house seemed to radiate with new life. Once again her mother hummed as she flitted about like a butterfly between blossoms while tending to her housework. She'd pause occasionally to say something like, "It's so good to see you smiling again, honey," or "Ain't life grand," then she'd go about her work again, like she"d done years before. And her father had once again taken up his love-hate affair with the daily news, grumbling over the immorality of the current generation and the corruption of the politicians in Washington, as he had before. Life truly was grand. It had been, ever since the outcome of the trial.

  But during the ordeal, Ruth had gone through hell, having to relive those terrible days after the kidnapping, almost as if Beth had been snatched away a second time. She wondered now if she could have gotten through it all without Matt. He was there when she'd reach out in the night, needing someone to cling to. And he was at her side through the long, emotional days in court, when they both had to take the stand. And then came the conviction, and it was over. She had no words to describe how she felt, only deep, body-wrenching sobs of relief....

  Annie emerged from her grandparent"s bedroom, a bright smile on her face, two packages in her hands. Matt caught Ruth's eye and winked. Annie went to her grandmother first. "This is for you, Grandma," she said, handing her a package.

  Irene Sinclair opened it carefully and found a stuffed monkey dressed in gingham and wearing a hat with a feather plume, and tiny granny glasses perched on her flat, monkey nose.

  "Her name's Lydia," Annie said, hovering over her grandmother, who gave Annie a big bear hug.

  “She"s Bum Baby"s grandma. And this one's for you, Mommy." Annie handed Ruth a large package, imperfectly wrapped in pearly pink paper that was decorated with an array of colorful flowers drawn with crayons. "Daddy's the one who got it—he said you'd really like it—but I decorated it for you. And I wrapped it myself."

  "Thank you, sweetie," Ruth said, accepting the package. She carefully removed the paper and lovingly set it aside, then read the words, hand-scribed in ornate calligraphy, on a beautifully framed document. "Bethany Anne Kincaid," she read aloud, as she stared at the certificate with Annie's new name. Tears of joy misted her eyes as she studied the crayon stick figures of a man, a woman, and a child, a big brown horse barn, a large house with a lopsided porch, and an assortment of horses and dogs, colorful figures decorating the matte board
that set off the document. She hugged Annie. "Next to having you, sweetie, this is the best Mother's Day gift I could ever have." She peered over Annie's head at Matt, who gave her his sad puppy dog look, and added, "And Daddy, too, of course."

  Annie giggled, then squirmed out of Ruth's arms and crouched on the floor, determined to coax a wary cat out from under the chair. Ruth smiled. How different this Mother's Day had been from those she'd been forced to endure the past four years. And how long she'd waited for this day to come. She gazed at the vacant window where Beth's candle had burned for four long years, and for an instant, a kaleidoscope of black memories whirled in her mind and she was again in that endless dark corridor where there was no hope of light...

  She looked away and found Matt staring at her with an odd intensity. He reached out and took her hand. "Let it go, honey. Don't be haunted by those memories."

  "How did you know?"

  "Every time you think about it the light goes out of your eyes, like a snuffed candle." Matt pressed his lips to her palm. "I love you, Ruth. You've made my life rich beyond imagination.

  You've given me more than I could ever dream. Be happy, my love."

  Ruth saw the sincerity in Matt's eyes, the promise of his smile, and felt the glorious awareness of their love. And again, life was filled with meaning.

  Silly foolish woman, she thought, to allow even one brief, dark moment to interrupt her happiness. Her life with Matt and Annie had already been filled with so much joy that the memory of that ever-burning flame rarely surfaced as it had moments before. She gazed at Matt, her life, her love, her rock to lean on, then at Annie, her own little Beth, who lay on the floor contentedly petting the cat. Her heart thrummed with the knowledge that she loved and was loved, that she needed and was needed, that their union was the seed from which Annie would blossom. And she knew that one day soon she'd be at peace, that the ever-burning flame would finally be extinguished in her mind. A feeling of quiet contentment settled over her. Perhaps that day had finally come.