What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(86)

Lolly returned to the sofa. “Was Marguerite really your teacher, Dad?”

“Yeah. English lit—Oedipus Rex, Romeo and Juliet, all of that.”

“How did it happen—I mean, you and her?”

He wanted to be truthful, but only to a point. Lolly didn’t need to know the unsavory details he’d confessed to Laurel. “I think she filled a gap for me. Marguerite gave me a lot of attention, but it was the wrong kind of attention. I was too young to be carrying on that intense a relationship with anybody, especially a woman more than twice my age.”

“Was she pretty back then, Dad? Her picture in the annual looks kinda sneaky.”

Jase laughed, remembering the sensuously seductive woman Marguerite had been. “She was dazzling, sweetheart. All the boys at Bosque Bend High School were crazy about her.”

Lolly cocked her head to one side. “And she, like, chose you over all of them?”

He didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “She shouldn’t have chosen any of us, Lolly. What happened between her and me was wrong. Adults shouldn’t be sexually involved with kids. I was seduced—not forced—but it was still wrong.”

Lolly’s voice turned soft. “Dad, do you hate me because I wanted to find my mother, because I met Marguerite? Are you sorry I was born?”

He’d always known she’d ask that question eventually, and the answer came easy. He risked lifting his hand to smooth her tumbled curls.

“No, baby. I love you and I’ll always love you.” His voice choked. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

*



The phone rang and Laurel hurried off to answer it. The Realtor had told her he might be calling today.

“Hello? Hello? Is this the Harlow residence?” Not her Realtor’s friendly chirp. It was an old man’s voice, breaking with agitation.

“Yes,” she answered, ready to slam down the receiver at the first obscene word.

“I need to speak to Jason Redlander. His aunt gave me this number.”

“May I say who’s calling?”

“An—an old acquaintance. Please, get him for me. It’s very important. Please, Laurel.”

How did he know her name?

She replaced the receiver and returned to the drawing room. “Someone wants you on the phone. He sounds odd. And he knows my name.”

Jase sighed. “Probably someone with another farm to sell. Sorry, but that’s it for Bosque Bend.”

He rose and headed to the den.

Lolly looked toward the hall. “Who do you think is calling Dad?” she asked Laurel.

“I don’t know. I know I’ve heard the voice before, but—”

Hugo started barking again.

“Lolly, we can’t talk over that racket. Would you mind if I let Hugo in the house?”

“Of course not. I love Hugo.”

Laurel headed toward the kitchen door, picking up a doggie treat on the way. Jase would probably return to Lolly in the drawing room before she got back, but that was okay. Father and daughter could use a little private time together.

It took a few minutes, but Hugo finally allowed a rawhide bone to lure him away from the albino squirrel who was running across the yard. As Laurel led him down the hall, he pushed open the door to the den, and she had to pull him back by his collar before he could bother Jase, who was apparently engaged in a deep conversation about a woman who was sick—Maxie? Maybe the caller was a doctor.

Then why did he identify himself as an old acquaintance?

Suddenly she remembered the voice—school bells and Friday morning announcements, the pugnacious twang of the principal listing deeds and misdeeds of the previous week.

Bert Nyquist. Come to think of it, Lolly had said Marguerite’s husband was named “Bart or something,” and she knew Bert Nyquist had left town soon after Marguerite Shelton. Who would have ever guessed they’d end up together?

Footsteps sounded in the hall. One look at Jase confirmed Laurel’s worst fears.

He took a seat on the sofa beside his daughter and lifted her hand. “Lolly, we need to discuss something very serious. I just talked to Marguerite’s husband. He says she won’t last more than a day and she wants to see you one last time.”

Lolly backed away into the corner of the sofa, her eyes opened wide in alarm. “I don’t want to go, Dad! I don’t even care if she’s dying! She might say something even worse to me this time!”

Hugo rose from his place by Laurel’s side, stretched, and ambled over to lay his head in Lolly’s lap. She massaged his ears, then looked deep into his comforting eyes.

“Her husband was nice, though. He apologized all over the place and said she was overmedicated, that the doctor had upped her oxycodone the day before and she wasn’t thinking straight, that she was talking wild.” She cocked her head. “He’s sort of sad, I think. He must love her a lot.”

The immensity of death hovered over the room.

Hugo licked her hands. Lolly stroked his back, then returned to his ears again. “If she’s dying, this would be my last time to see her.” She looked into the dog’s eyes. “Maybe…” She turned toward her father. “Dad, if I go, will you go with me?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll be with you all the way.”