What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(30)

Lolly glanced down at herself. “Hey, I’ve still got your shirt on.”

“Take it as a gift.” On impulse, before she could second-guess herself, Laurel unwound her necklace and lifted it over Lolly’s head. “And take this too, to remember me by.” The pearls had been given to her in love and deserved a better fate than the pawnbroker’s window.

Lolly stood stock-still in the middle of the carpet, lifted the pearl rope in both hands and looked down at it, then up at Laurel. Her voice was soft, her eyes compassionate. “Was it, like, because of your parents that you couldn’t keep me?”

“What?”

“I mean, when I was born. It must have been hard, you being a preacher’s daughter and all. Did your parents make you give me up, turn me over to Dad?”

Laurel’s knees buckled. She sat down on the edge of her bed, stared up at Lolly. She’d put it off too long, but it was time to end this fantasy—for both of them.

“Honey, I’m not your mother. You’re a lovely girl and I wish I were your mother, but I’m not.”

Lolly sat down beside her. “I understand that you don’t want to admit you had a baby out of wedlock,” she insisted, “but you must be my mother. I can tell from the way Dad acts around you—and Aunt Maxie said he’s always been in love with you. Besides, I’m named after you.”

“Named after me?”

“Lolly is just what they call me. My real name is Laurel Elizabeth, like yours.”

Laurel looked at her in surprise. Lolly was a Laurel Elizabeth? Jase had given his daughter her name? No wonder Lolly thought she was her mother. If only.

She took Lolly’s hands in hers. Gray eyes met blue. “Lolly, listen to me. I like you a lot. You’re a charming girl, and if I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you. But you aren’t mine. Your father and I have never been, well, intimate. I’ve never had a child.”

And probably never will.

Suddenly the years of desolation stretched in front of her like an endless, empty tunnel. The last twenty-four hours had been a magical respite, but tonight Lolly would leave her and Jase would leave her and she’d be by herself again.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. There were just too many sorrows stored up, too many tears she’d suppressed. Great, painful sobs tore from her throat, and tears cascaded down her cheeks. Tears for her father, her mother, her botched marriage, her dreams of love, her doubtful future.

All the while she was vaguely aware that someone was patting her arm and babbling at her. “I’m sorry! I take it all back! I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m sorry! Please stop crying—Dad will kill me!”

But there was no way she could stop.





Chapter Eight



Jase leaned against the newel post, waiting for Lolly to collect her gear.

This was taking too long. Was Girl Child trying to wheedle a couple of days’ more hospitality out of Laurel? He gave Maxie a telling glance. She rolled her eyes.

A sound came from the second floor, like someone choking. Jase moved to the bottom of the steps and put a hand on the newel post, ready for action.

Suddenly Lolly, big-eyed and white-faced, appeared on the landing. “Dad, you’ve got to come! She won’t stop crying! Laurel won’t stop crying!”

He vaulted the steps two at a time, Maxie right behind him.

Lolly hurled herself into his arms. “I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault! I didn’t mean to!”

Jase held her tight and patted her shoulder soothingly. “That’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay.” He walked her back into the room.

Laurel was slumped on the edge of her bed, a hand to her face, shaking like a leaf and sobbing uncontrollably.

Jase looked from one to the other. God, Laurel was crying her eyes out, and Girl Child was coming on hysterical. He had to separate these two. Still holding Lolly with one arm, he nodded at Maxie and felt in his pocket for his keys. “I think it would be best if you and Lolly left,” he said, handing the keys over to his aunt. “Just park the Caddie in the overnight lot at the airport. I’ll take care of Laurel. I was going to stay in town another day anyway.”

He gave Lolly a quick hug and a reassuring smile. “Laurel will be fine, baby. You take care of Aunt Maxie.”

She wiped her nose and smiled weakly. “I will, Dad. I promise.” Still snuffling, Lolly picked up her backpack and purse, then followed her aunt out of the room, a rope of pearls dangling incongruously from her neck.

Jase frowned. Wasn’t that the necklace Laurel had on at dinner? The one she’d told Maxie was actually a single long strand? Oh well, it was the least of his worries.

In less than a minute, the big front door thudded shut, leaving him alone in the house with Laurel.

A trickle of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. Goddamn. The room is hot as Hades. He doffed his jacket and slipped it over the back of the dressing room chair, then turned on the window unit. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the tissue box, took one, and sat down beside Laurel, patting her arm so she’d know someone was there.

Weeping women were not his area of expertise, and his first impulse was to make a run for it. But, no, he’d said he’d stay, that he’d take care of her, but the rampant femininity of the room made him uncomfortable. All that pinky color. And it was Laurel’s room, her bedroom, for God’s sake, and he was sitting on her bed.