What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(76)
He gazed up at her with soulful eyes. Laurel was becoming more and more convinced Hugo was a born therapy dog. He’d certainly been a comfort to her, and now he was trying to take care of Lolly too.
Lolly ran her hand through his thick fur and began talking. “It was so b-bad when I’d thought it would be so great, that maybe she and Dad had been in love and maybe her parents…you know, like I thought for you…but she was old—way older than Dad—and ugly and nasty, and sex was all she could talk about. Her name is Marguerite, and she said she’d been Dad’s teacher at Bosque Bend High School…and she talked about him like he was an—an animal.”
The tears gushed again. Hugo moved his head in Lolly’s lap, reminding her of his presence while Laurel patted her shoulder. How could anyone be this cruel—and to her own child?
“She sort of cackled and said she didn’t know that I would look exactly like her. Then she started talking about how she’d always been popular with the boys, especially when she started teaching, because she was so sexy. Her husband tried to change the subject, but she couldn’t stop talking about sex…and Dad.” Lolly looked down at herself and her face crinkled. “She was so…awful…and here I spent a whole day shopping for this outfit just to look nice for her.”
Laurel nodded. That explained the pearl-luster one-inch heels and the fitted pink sundress with the stylish shortie jacket. Lolly had accessorized conservatively, with a simple pearl necklace and matching pearl studs, and her Shirley Temple curls were contained behind an Alice band. It was the perfect look when meeting a long-lost mother, if that mother had any decency in her.
Lolly clenched a handful of Hugo’s coat. “Her husband said she didn’t mean it, that she’d taken too much medicine, but I don’t care! I never want to see her again!”
The big dog gazed up at her questioningly. Laurel unfastened Lolly’s hand from his fur finger by finger. “Um, how did you find her?”
Lolly grabbed a paper napkin from the holder in the center of the table and blew her nose loudly. “Her husband called me, some old guy named Bart or something. He said my—my mother wanted to see me, but I shouldn’t tell Daddy because he wouldn’t let me come.” She sniffed. “And now I wish I had told Daddy, and he’d locked me in a dungeon rather than let me go meet her!”
Laurel pulled more napkins out of the holder and stacked them in front of Lolly. This might be a long evening.
“She was awful, so awful! I wish I never had a mother—I wish I’d never been born!” She looked up at Laurel. “I don’t want to go home. Daddy—she said…she said that Daddy…” She reached for another napkin. “It’s all so nasty!” Long, wracking shudders ran through her. She moved her head back and forth, then clutched at Laurel’s arm. “I want you to be my mother, Laurel! Please let me stay with you!”
Laurel took her full in her arms. “Lolly, Lolly baby, that’s okay. Hugo and I will take care of you. But let’s get you upstairs.”
Laurel supplied Lolly with a nightgown and sat by her bedside as she cried herself to sleep, then left Hugo on watch as she went down to the den to call Jase’s home number.
“Maxie? This is Laurel Harlow. Lolly’s with me. I’ve bedded her down for the night, but she’s in bad shape. Marguerite got her to come to San Antonio and told her more than she ever wanted to know about Jase and their relationship—very explicitly. I can’t understand how anyone could do something like that—and to her own child.”
Maxie snorted. “It goes with the territory. But thanks for letting us know. I’ll call Jase right away.”
Laurel replaced the phone and wandered upstairs, soaked in her bath, checked on Lolly, and went to bed. But she couldn’t sleep.
Why had Marguerite Shelton lured Lolly to her bedside, then—well—attacked her? She should have been happy that her daughter had come at all.
She fluffed her pillow and turned over. Odd how hard it had been to get accustomed to sleeping alone again after Jase left. She hadn’t felt that way when Dave vamoosed.
She shut her eyes, but her mind refused to close down for the night. Would Maxie be the one to come for Lolly, or would it be Jase? She pictured herself opening the front door to him. She’d wear one of her nicer dresses, maybe the pale blue with the stiff pleats down the front. And heels, yes, definitely, heels. And she’d be a perfect lady, gracious and cool.
Ice-cold cool.
*
Jase’s phone sounded off with Maxie’s ringtone. He nosed to the side of the road and parked, fear and hope clutching at his heart. His finger hesitated for a second before pushing the icon.
“Jase, she’s safe. She’s with Laurel again.”
His mind shuddered with relief. Thank you, God. Again.
“But I’ve got to warn you. Laurel said the meeting with Marguerite—it wasn’t pretty. More like traumatic.”
“Marguerite? Lolly actually found Marguerite?”
“Apparently Marguerite was the one who found her.”
“Damn that woman! What sort of game is she playing?”
“Who knows? Laurel said Lolly’s sleeping now, but Marguerite really did a number on her. Apparently told her all about the your relationship with her, in detail and living color.”