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Bree twirled a spaghetti strand on her fork. “I was just thinking, Daddy…”
“Thinking?” He chuckled knowingly. “Why does that sound like you’re about to spring a momentous announcement on me?”
“She’s probably bringing home another stray animal,” said Frannie lightly. “What is it this time, Bree? A wounded platypus? A homeless carrier pigeon? A dispossessed gopher?”
Bree scowled. “Don’t make fun of me, Fran. I’m serious.”
“Serious?” Andrew echoed guardedly. “How serious?”
“Just a little bit serious,” Bree said evasively.
Andrew looked her square in the eye. “Tell me, what are you cooking up, my darling daughter?”
“Nothing, Daddy. It’s just…this house has been so empty since Cassie moved out. All three of us have been feeling lonely, restless, at loose ends. It just doesn’t feel right, all these rooms with nobody to fill them.”
“And just who do you have in mind…to fill these rooms?” asked Andrew, helping himself to the garlic bread.
“Nobody in particular,” said Bree, “except maybe…”
“You might as well tell us,” said Frannie. “Just say it, and we’ll tell you if it’s one of your crazy, impossible ideas.”
Bree drew in a sharp breath. “There’s a girl I’ve been counseling at the clinic—”
“Oh, no!” cried Frannie. “Last time it was a woman with a bunch of rowdy kids. They invaded the sunroom, helped themselves to my paint and pelted one another with wet clay. They made my bust of Cicero look like Donald Duck! In ten minutes they nearly destroyed my entire art studio.”
“That was an unfortunate incident,” Bree acknowledged in a regretful voice. “But this client has no children…yet.”
“Yet?” quizzed Andrew. “Yet, as in…?”
“Three months.”
“She’s three months pregnant?” asked Frannie.
“No, her baby is due in three months.”
“What’s her story?” asked Andrew. “Her husband desert her?”
“Not exactly,” said Bree. “She’s a teenager. Almost nineteen. Her boyfriend broke up with her when he found out about the pregnancy, and it appears her parents want nothing to do with her. She’s all alone in the world…and she won’t admit it, but I know she’s scared. You should see her, Daddy. Trying to act like it’s no big deal when her world’s caving in. She needs a place to stay where she feels loved and accepted.”
Frannie poked at her spaghetti. “Can’t she stay at the shelter, Bree?”
“It’s mainly for battered wives. Besides, it’s full.”
Andrew cleared his throat. “Of course, the girl can stay here…if you think this is the place for her, Bree.”
“I do, Daddy.” Bree’s voice rose with excitement. “I really feel I can help her. We can help her. She may act blasé, even flippant at times, but I know she’s hurting inside. She thinks everyone has condemned her.”
“Well, then, let’s pray we can show her the love of God.”
“And she needs a job,” said Bree. “Something to make her feel better about herself.”
Frannie shook her head. “Who’s going to hire a woman about to give birth?”
“I thought of that,” said Bree. “That’s why I was thinking that maybe we could—”
Andrew smiled grimly. “Oh, oh, I’m not sure I like that look in your eyes, daughter.”
“But, Daddy, it’ll be perfect. I’ve got it all figured out. Marnie can work for you.”
“Marnie?”
“That’s her name. Marnie Smith—although I think she made up the Smith part.”
“What do you mean, she can work for me? I already have a secretary. You mean, work at the church?”
“No, Daddy. She can work right here. You’re always saying you wish you had someone here at home to help with clerical work—correspondence, filing, research for your sermons. If she’s staying here, anyway, she’ll have time on her hands, waiting for her baby to come. She can earn money to give herself and her baby a fresh start. Please say you’ll give her a chance.”
Andrew reached across the table and patted his daughter’s hand. “You win, dumpling. Have I ever said no when you’ve come home with one of your pet projects, your abandoned critters, your lost causes? Tell your young friend she has a home with us.”
But even as Andrew said the words, a niggling worry crept in. He had an uneasy feeling that this needy young girl might change their lives in more ways than any of them expected.
Chapter Two
Brianna brought Marnie home the next day, a balmy, late-June Saturday. The moment Marnie stepped inside the Rowlands’ house, she did a double take. “Wow!” she said with grudging admiration. “This is awesome. Not glitzy, like a rich person’s pad, but warm and homey. Like that retro Ozzie and Harriet stuff. A real home.”
“Thanks,” said Bree. “I think.”
“I like it,” Marnie went on, clutching a leather satchel in one hand and a canvas bag in the other. Tall and slender, with a coltish energy and grace, she looked like an ordinary teenager in her tank top and oversize bib overalls. No one would have guessed she was over six months pregnant.
“We can take your things directly up to your room, if you like,” said Bree, nodding toward the stairs.
“No, I’ll just set them here for now.” Marnie dropped her belongings beside the staircase and ambled across the entryway, her stacked sandals clicking on the marble floor. “This place beats some dreary women’s shelter.” She drifted into the living room and gazed around at the overstuffed sofa and chairs, the oak furniture, and the bay windows letting in sunlight. They could see a profusion of color from the rosebushes lining the front yard.
Marnie flashed a lopsided smile. She had an oval face with sharp features—a nose too pointed, lips too full, teeth a bit too large. Her long, umber-brown hair looked a bit bedraggled, as if she had got up in the morning and absently smoothed it back from her forehead with her hands. Marnie’s eyes—her most striking feature—were large, wide-set, shadowed at the corners, and a light spring-water blue. They seemed ageless, fathomless, melancholy, yet riveting, as if they were looking beyond the surface at something no one else could see.
“You sure your dad doesn’t mind putting me up for a few months?” she asked in an offhand voice that failed to hide an undercurrent of anxiety.
“I’m sure,” said Bree. “You stay as long as you need to.”
Marnie managed a hard-edged chuckle. “I guess him being a minister makes him want to do nice things for people, like taking in the poor and homeless…and pregnant.”
“He’s a neat guy,” said Bree. “Funny and warm and caring. You’ll like him.”
The two crossed the living room to the kitchen. It was roomy, with a sunny breakfast nook and garden window overlooking a sprawling backyard festooned with snow-white calla lilies, bright orange birds of paradise, pink azaleas in porcelain Ming pots, bougainvillea bushes, and a variety of tropical foliage.
“Are you hungry, Marnie?”
“Starved.” She smiled grimly. “I’m eating for two, you know.”
“Then, let’s raid the fridge.” Bree opened the refrigerator door and gazed inside. “Let’s see. We’ve got all sorts of mysterious concoctions hidden in butter tubs, but I’m not sure we want to risk our lives by sampling them.”
“I’m not fussy…as long as it’s edible and not growing little fuzzy green things.”
“I can’t vouch for most of this stuff. My dad believes you should never throw anything out until it’s clearly beyond redemption.”
“Not a bad philosophy,” noted Marnie with a hint of irony.
Bree nodded. “I never thought of it that way.” She retrieved a large plastic container and peeked inside. “Tell you what. We have spaghetti left over from last night. My sister Frannie makes the best pasta dishes in the world. She does this thing with basil and oregano. I’m no cook, so I have no idea how she does it, but it’s scrumptious.”
Marnie sat down at the oak table. “I love spaghetti.”
“Me, too. I’ll zap us some in the microwave.”
For the next half-hour they sat at the cozy table devouring the last of Frannie’s spaghetti and sipping diet colas. They engaged in idle chitchat for a few minutes, discussing the weather, the house, even Brianna’s job at the counseling center.
“What’s it like giving out advice and helping people all day?” Marnie asked. “Does it make you feel like a saint? Joan of Arc or something?”
Brianna smiled. “It’s scary and wonderful all at once.”
“How so?”
“Scary when I think I’m responsible for people’s lives. Wonderful when I know I’ve made life better for someone.”
“Someone like me?”
“Yes. Someone like you.”
Marnie lapsed into silence.
Brianna traced the rim of her cola glass. “I hope you don’t mind, Marnie. I don’t mean to intrude on your privacy, but now that you’ll be living here, I’ll need some information.”
Marnie twisted a strand of chestnut hair. “Like what?”
“General stuff. About you. Your family. Your plans.”
Marnie’s tone was guarded. “What do you want to know?”
“For starters, where your home is.”
“I filled out the papers you gave me.”
“You listed a San Diego hotel.”
“That’s where I was staying. Until I ran out of money.”
“What about your family? Where do they live?”
Marnie lowered her gaze. “That’s not important.”
“But it is. If we needed to reach them for some reason—”
“Leave them out of it,” said Marnie sharply. “They have nothing to do with me anymore.”
“Because you’re pregnant? Did they force you to leave home? That’s what you implied when you first came to see me.”
Marnie sipped her cola. After a moment she looked up, her eyes shadowed, her lips tight, as if she were willing herself not to speak lest she say too much.
“Marnie, if I’m going to help you, I need to know the truth. Please. I’m on your side.”
Marnie licked her chapped lips. Without makeup, she had a winsome, childlike face. She was still twisting her hair, so tightly that the tip of her finger had turned white. At last she met Brianna’s gaze. “Truth is, my folks don’t know I’m pregnant. When I started to show, I just wore frumpy clothes. No one could tell. I wouldn’t even admit it to myself until a couple of months ago. When I told my boyfriend, Sam…Sam Dillard—we were both sophomores at San Diego State—when I told him, he told me to get rid of it. Just like that. He didn’t even think twice about it. Just said he didn’t want anything to do with a baby. It was my problem.”
“Couldn’t you tell your folks?”
“You kidding? My parents are…you’d have to know them…they’re like, totally perfect. I mean, that’s how they act, like they can do no wrong. You should see them. Rigid and unbending as a ruler. They expect perfection from everyone. No one can please them. Especially me.” She gnawed on her lower lip, her gaze downcast. “Of course, my brother is another story.”
“Your brother?”
“Eric. He’s ten years older than me.” Marnie pulled a thumb-worn snapshot from the pocket of her bib overalls and handed it to Bree. “I keep his picture close to my heart. Makes me feel like he’s watching over me. Stupid, huh?”
“Not at all. That shows how special he must be.” Bree studied the photograph. The face staring back at her was one of the most compelling and captivating she had ever seen. As finely honed as a Michelangelo sculpture. A valiant face reflecting a startling paradox of strength and vulnerability, melancholy and mischief. And those dusky, half-moon eyes flashed lightning bolts straight into Bree’s heart. They seemed to read her very thoughts. She couldn’t tear her gaze from those eyes.
“This is…your brother?” she murmured, her voice catching. This was crazy. Her heart was doing a strange little pitter-pat dance. A self-conscious warmth spread across her face, flushing her cheeks, leaving her pleasantly dazed and distracted. What was wrong with her, reacting so viscerally? For heaven’s sake, if a person could fall in love with a mere photograph, she just had!
“Cute, isn’t he,” said Marnie offhandedly.
“That’s, uh…not the word for it.” Bree forced her eyes from the snapshot. Help me, Lord! I’m behaving like a tongue-tied schoolgirl. “What’s he like…your brother?”
“Oh, wow! He’s like every girl wishes her brother would be.” Marnie’s eyes grew misty, as if she were glimpsing distant, faded memories. “He was always looking out for me…always there when I needed him. When I was a little girl, he carried me around in one of those little snuggly things. On his chest. Like I was a papoose or something. Can you imagine? Him a big teenage boy carrying around his little sister? He took me everywhere. To his ball games and track meets. On bike rides and hikes. He always fixed me hot dogs and macaroni and cheese—his absolute favorites. When I was sick, he brought his friends in to do stupid animal imitations. Bugs Bunny. Donald Duck. We’d laugh our silly heads off. But what was so cool…he made me feel like one of the gang. He was never ashamed of me.”
Bree struggled to find her voice. She was falling harder by the minute. “He sounds like a…a wonderful guy.”
“The best.” Marnie cupped her cola glass with her palms. “He’s a lawyer now. One of the good guys. Not one of those greedy dudes chasing million-dollar lawsuits.” Marnie met Bree’s gaze. “Actually, he’s a lot like you, Brianna. Always helping people, championing some cause for the poor and downtrodden.”
“Then, why didn’t you tell him about the baby?”
“And see the disappointment in his eyes? No way! He’s the only one who ever stood up for me. When my folks got on my case, Eric always came to my defense. He’s the only person who ever really believed in me, who thought I was worth something.”
“Then all the more reason to take him into your confidence.”
“No way!” Marnie blinked back rising tears. “Don’t you get it? I don’t ever want to stop being special to him.”
Bree sat back and gave a relenting sigh. Reluctantly, she handed the photo back to Marnie. “Okay, if that’s how you want it. But he sounds like a fabulous brother.”
“He is. You’d love him.”
I already do! The thought stunned Bree. How could a stranger’s face leave her feeling so shaken and flustered?
“Trouble is, he’s too dedicated to his work. It’s his whole life. Doesn’t even have a girlfriend.” Marnie eyed Brianna knowingly. “I bet you’re the same way, aren’t you. Too busy with your work to have a special guy?”
