Sanctuary

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

PROLOGUE

The Birth Place

Enchantment, New Mexico

June, 1993

LYDIA KANE had keen, shrewd eyes. Hope Tanner stared into them, drawing strength from the older woman as another pain racked her. The contractions were coming close together now—and hard, much harder than before. Her legs shook in reaction, whether from pain or fear, she didn’t know. She didn’t feel as though she knew much about anything. She was barely seventeen.

“That’s it,” Lydia said from the foot of the bed. “You’re getting there now. Just relax, honey, and breathe.”

“I want to push,” Hope panted. Though the baby wasn’t overdue, Hope was more than anxious to be finished with the pregnancy. Lydia had put some sort of hormonal cream inside her—on what she called a cervix. The older woman said it would send her into labor. But the baby was proving stubborn. The pains had started, on and off, at sundown, and only now, when it was nearly four o’clock in the morning, were they getting serious.

More of God’s punishment, Hope decided. She’d run away from the Brethren, refused to do what her father said was God’s will, and this was the price she had to pay.

“Don’t push yet,” Lydia said firmly. “You’re not fully dilated, and we don’t want you to tear. Try to rest while I see what that last contraction did.”

Hope stared at the ceiling as Lydia checked the baby’s progress. She was tired of all the poking and prodding, but she would never say so. Lydia might think her ungrateful. After being alone for most of her pregnancy, wandering aimlessly from town to town, Hope wasn’t about to do anything to anger the one person who’d taken her in. Lydia was so decisive, so strong. As much as Hope loved and admired her, she feared her a little, too. Lydia owned the birth center and had to be sixty years old. But she wasn’t a soft, sweet grandmotherly type, certainly nothing like Hope’s own patient mother. Tall and angular, with steel-gray eyes and hair, Lydia often spoke sharply, seemed to know everything in the world and had the ability to make other people—and apparently even events—bend to her will. She took command like Hope’s father, which was an amazing concept. Hope hadn’t known women could possess so much power.

“Is everything okay?” Hope asked, weak, shaky, exhausted.

“Everything’s fine.” As Lydia helped her to a few more ice chips, the pendant she always wore—a mother cradling an infant—swayed with her movements and caught Hope’s attention. Hope had long coveted that pendant. She craved the nurturing and love it symbolized. But she knew she’d never experience holding her own child so close. Not this child, anyway.

After mopping Hope’s forehead, Lydia went back to massaging one of her feet. Lydia claimed that pressing on certain points in the foot could ease pain—she called it reflexology—but if reflexology was helping, Hope certainly couldn’t tell. To her, its only value seemed to be in providing a slight distraction.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” Lydia assured her, but she kept glancing at the clock as though she was late for something and as eager for the baby to be born as Hope. “I’d transfer you to the hospital if I was the least bit worried,” she continued in the same authoritative voice. “This is dragging on, I know. But the baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady and you’re progressing. First babies often take a while.”

Lydia had once mentioned that she’d been a midwife for more than thirty years. Certainly after all that time she knew what she was talking about. But Hope was inclined to trust her regardless of her professional experience. It was men who always failed her—

Another contraction gripped her body. Biting back a tormented moan, she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. She didn’t know how much more she could take. It felt as if someone had a knife and was stabbing her repeatedly in the abdomen.

Except for the music playing quietly in the background, the place was quiet. Parker Reynolds, the administrator, and the other midwives and clerical people who worked at the center were long gone. They’d left before Lydia had even induced her. She and Lydia were the only ones at The Birth Place. With its scented candles, soft lighting and soothing music, the room was meant to be comfortable and welcoming, like home. But this room, with its turquoise-and-peach wallpaper, Spanish-tile floor and wooden shutters at the window, was nothing like the home Hope had known. She’d grown up sharing a bedroom with at least three siblings, oftentimes four. If there were candles it was because the electricity had been turned off for nonpayment. And the only music she’d been allowed to listen to was classical or hymns.

“Good girl,” Lydia said as Hope fought the impulse to bear down.

At this point Hope didn’t care if she caused herself physical damage. She felt as though the baby was ripping its way out of her, anyway. She just didn’t want to displease Lydia. The ultrasound she’d had several weeks earlier indicated she was having a girl, and Lydia had promised that her daughter would go to a good home. Hope didn’t want to give her any reason to break that promise. Mostly because Lydia had painted such an idyllic picture of her baby’s future. Her baby would have a crib, and a matching comforter and bumper pads, and a mobile hanging above her head. She’d have doting parents who would give her dance lessons, help her with her homework and send her to college. When the time was right, they’d pay for a lovely wedding. Her daughter would marry someone kind and strong, have a normal family and eventually become a grandmother. She’d wear store-bought clothes and listen to all kinds of music. She’d feel good about being a woman. Better than anything, she’d never know what she’d so narrowly escaped.

Hope wanted sanctuary for her child. She wanted it more than anything. After her daughter arrived and started her princesslike life, it wouldn’t matter what happened to Hope.

She would already have given the only gift she could.

She would have saved her daughter from the Brethren.

“THE DEAL’S OFF,” Lydia stated flatly, entering her office cradling Hope’s new baby.

Fear nearly choked Parker Reynolds at this announcement. He glanced briefly at his father-in-law, U.S. Congressman John Barlow, who’d been waiting with him, before letting his gaze fall on the baby they’d come to collect. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Is Hope okay?”

“Mother and baby are both fine, but—” she split her gaze between them “—it’s a boy.”

A boy…Parker’s heart pounded in his chest like a bass drum. A boy could change everything. “Does Hope know?”

“I haven’t told her yet, but—”

“Perfect!” his father-in-law interrupted. “You were worried how it would look to have Parker and Vanessa receive a newborn baby so soon after Hope gave birth. Now they won’t have to relocate, and you won’t have to hire a new administrator. There’s no chance of anyone putting two and two together.”

Torn, Parker shoved his hands in his pockets and turned toward the window. After two miscarriages, his wife had never been able to get pregnant again. Now her health was too bad to continue trying. She was ill and miserable and so depressed she couldn’t get out of bed even on good days. She claimed that having a baby would make all the difference, that it would give her the will to survive.

He believed it would. He believed it was his responsibility as her husband to save her somehow. But because of Vanessa’s health, there wasn’t an adoption agency anywhere that would work with them. This was his only chance….

“The baby’s sex played a big part in her decision to give up the baby,” Lydia explained.

“I don’t give a damn if it did,” John replied. “She can’t provide for a boy any easier than she can a girl. She’s a seventeen-year-old runaway, for crying out loud. What can she offer this child?”

Parker felt his commitment to what they were doing waver even more. Two weeks ago, when he’d approached his father-in-law with this idea, it had all seemed so simple. Vanessa needed a baby. Hope’s baby needed a family. Lydia needed money to keep the center afloat. But it didn’t seem so simple anymore. It seemed almost surreal.

“Hope deserves the right to make an informed decision,” he said.

“Like hell,” John countered. “She doesn’t deserve a damn thing. From what you told me, Ms. Kane has housed her and cared for her during the last two months.”

“I had no ulterior motives when I took her in,” Lydia said.

“I’m not here to argue about the purity of your motives,” John replied. “Just keep the bargain. I’ve already paid you the money.”

Lydia tightened her hold on the baby. “I’ll pay you back.”

“When?”

Parker knew that wasn’t an easy question to answer. For the past six months the center had been inches away from closing its doors. The money had been spent on payroll and utilities and supplies.

“As soon as I can,” she snapped.

“Considering that you pump every dime you have into this place, I don’t think you’re a very good credit risk,” John said. “And I don’t want the money back. I want the baby you promised us.”

Lydia looked beaten as she gazed around the office. “This center has been my life,” she said. “It’s what I’ve fought for and loved for more than thirty years. But this time I’ve gone too far. What we’re doing goes against everything I believe in.”

“What we’re doing?” John said. “You’ve already done it, Ms. Kane. You did it when you took my money.” He motioned impatiently with one hand. “But you’re making a bigger deal of this than it has to be. You’re not doing anything that’s going to hurt this baby’s mother. So you’ve told her you’re putting her baby up for adoption. In a way, you are. It might not be through a legitimate agency, but that doesn’t matter? You—”

“Doesn’t matter? How can you say that?” Lydia interrupted. “What we’re doing is illegal, Congressman. You, of all people, should know that.”