Believe Me (Hearts for Ransom Book 3) (8 page)

“I bet that’s Austin and Jesse,” called Spencer from the living room. They were taking him to Finkley Fun, an indoor theme park in nearby Finkley, Indiana.

“Hello, Ms. Hadley.” The tall, red-headed left fielder for the Slammers greeted her, as she let him and his little brother, Austin, in. “How are you?”

Claire couldn’t help but return the friendly man’s easy smile. “I’m good. How are you?”

He rubbed his arms. “I’m dandy except it’s startin’ to feel like winter out there.” He patted Austin’s shoulder. “This guy didn’t think he needed to wear his winter coat. We about had to cancel our plans, didn’t we?”

Austin looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. “We’re just going to be outside long enough to get from your truck into the park. I won’t have time to get cold.”

“You’d get sick is what would happen,” Jesse sternly informed him. “I bet Spencer will be wearing his coat without his mom having to threaten him.”

Spencer proved him right by walking into the foyer with his coat already on. He carried a squirming Zoey.

“I was afraid to leave her on the floor in there, Mom. She thinks it’s fun to roll everywhere today.” He put his sister against his shoulder. “She almost pulled the end table over on herself.”

“I’ll take her.” Claire held out her hands and accepted her energetic daughter.

“You sure have a cute little girl there,” Jesse said, holding out a finger for Zoey to take. He smiled at the baby. “You’re downright adorable, missy.”

Claire smiled with pride. “We think so.”

Jesse’s smile turned to a perplexed expression as he studied Zoey’s features. “She sure reminds me of somebody.” Claire suddenly felt as though her heart might pound right out of her chest. “I just can’t put my finger on who it is.”

“They say all babies look alike,” she offered. Claire quickly turned to her son. “Did you get that money I left on the counter?”

He nodded. “I won’t spend any more than I have to. I won’t go wasting it on any of those rip-off carnival games.”

Claire felt a mixture of pride and sadness. Spencer was so responsible—almost too responsible. He should get to be a typical teenager and enjoy himself, without worrying about every penny he spent, at least once in a while.

“I didn’t give you anything we can’t afford for you to spend,” she quietly told him. “Have a good time.”

Spencer smiled. She knew he would do the same as always and drink from water fountains, rather than buy the “overpriced sodas” they sold. At least she knew Jesse would make sure he bought himself some lunch.

“We’d better get going, boys.” Jesse turned and opened the door for the young men to walk through. “Don’t worry about Spencer, Ms. Hadley. I’ll watch out for him.”

“I know you will.” She watched as he followed the boys through the door and out to his truck. She and Zoey stood at the window until they had driven away.

Jesse thought Zoey looked familiar. What if somebody figured out Zoey was Mason’s daughter? What would people think of her—to be impregnated by the man who slept with any willing woman? Or if she could believe him, used to sleep with them.

She looked at her daughter. After searching her soul and considering the situation, Claire finally reached a decision. The two of them were going on a trip of their own.

A few minutes later, she found herself driving her car and talking to Zoey, bundled up and fastened into her seat in the back of the car.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you a dad who can love you,” she told her little girl. “I mean, he loves your brother as well as he can, but I don’t think he really knows how to love people. Maybe he can be your friend. Care to share your opinion about that?”

Zoey’s response was a nice, healthy burp.

“Okay, then.” Claire would accept that as agreement. “Someday, when you’re grown up, I’ll explain everything to you. Except, I’ll never tell you I can’t remember your conception.” She could only imagine what that would make Zoey think of her mother. Her daughter would think her father was a bed-hopper, and her mother was a lush. “Nope. I’ll keep that part to myself for the rest of my life.”

Try as she might, her memories from that night refused to expand. Mason kissed her, and she wasn’t going to lie to herself, she kissed him back—quite enthusiastically. Then the next thing she knew, she was half awake, lying there in a stupor watching him dress so fast she couldn’t believe her eyes. Mason had been in an unbelievable hurry to get out of there. Judging by her experience, the emphasis should be on the “leave ‘em” when people referred to him as “Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Wright.”

“What are we doing?” she asked Zoey. “We can’t do this.” Zoey didn’t contribute anything to the conversation, but Claire could still hear Emily telling her that Mason had hurt her, too. “Emily’s happily married,” she proclaimed to her daughter defensively. “She doesn’t have Mason’s baby, so he couldn’t have hurt her as badly as he did me, could he?”

This time, the gas Zoey expelled didn’t come in the form of a burp. “Keep that up, Zoey,” Claire encouraged her. “Your father may have second thoughts if you give him a good healthy dose of reality.” Zoey giggled. “Okay. We’re going, but he’s only going to get to see you, and maybe hold you. You won’t know he’s your father—maybe not ever, but we’re going to let him meet you.”

Zoey responded with another burst of wind and more giggles. “What did your brother feed you for breakfast this morning?” Claire shook her head. At least Mason wasn’t going to be exposed to sunshine and lollipops. She wondered how he’d feel about holding a tooting baby. The man wanted to meet and hold his daughter. Zoey might just see to it that her father was in for a rude awakening.

Mason’s foot itched, and he couldn’t figure out how to scratch it. He tried stretching out in his bed and rubbing it on the rail, but that only succeeded in making it itch worse. He felt like a clumsy contortionist when he tried to maneuver his torso so he could reach it with his good arm while keeping his cast-stiffened left arm out of the way.

Colton and Joni had just left, or he would have taken a chance on listening to Colton mouth off for a good year or more, and asked him to scratch it. Maybe after tomorrow when they moved him to the long-term care wing, he’d be out and around people more often. What good that would do him in this type of situation, he didn’t know.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Could you scratch the instep on my right foot, please?” He’d make lots of new friends that way. He snorted. He’d more likely end up in an entirely different wing of the hospital—one with nice, soft padded walls.

A quiet knock sounded on his door. Maybe it was somebody he could ask to help him with that blasted foot.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and a lovely young woman walked in. She looked vaguely familiar to Mason, but he couldn’t quite place her. A light blonde ponytail hung over one shoulder, and even under the loose football jersey and baggy coat she wore, he could tell there was the potential for a double dose of black eyes if someone had their eyes at that level.

“Can I help you?” She must have come into the wrong room.

Bright blue eyes flickered with amusement, reinforcing his feeling of déjà vu. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t place you. Have we met before?”

“If I told you I work at Trimble’s, would that help?” She had a very pleasant voice.

Then he remembered. “You’re the waitress I…I’m sorry. I had too much to drink. I shouldn’t have hit—”

“It’s okay.” She smiled and stepped closer to the bed. “I hope you don’t mind me visiting you. I read in the newspaper you’d been in an accident, and I was here visiting somebody else so I thought I’d just stop in and see how you were doing.”

Mason remembered how nice she was to him, and had a vague recollection of confessing his transgressions to her.

“Have a seat.”

As she pulled off her coat and sat in the chair, he was surprised to see, without any makeup, she appeared to be no older than twenty-one or two, younger than most of the waitresses at Trimble’s.

“I guess I should introduce myself.” She had a beautiful smile. “My name is Betsy Weller.”

“I’m…” he started, but then realized how foolish he was being. “I guess you obviously know who I am.”

She nodded. “Mel told me your name when he asked me to sit with you. I was just trying to make sure you didn’t decide to drive yourself home before your friend got there to pick you up.”

She had gone above and beyond as far as he was concerned. “Thank you. I just have to tell you again, though, how sorry I am for getting plastered and acting the way I did.” He felt even worse about it now, after seeing how young she was.

“That’s okay.” Her voice was the same soothing one he remembered from that night. “You just seemed like a broken-hearted man to me. At least you didn’t try anything like most of those men in there do. They make me sick.”

Mason was confused. “Then why do you work there?” Trimble’s was well known for the “accommodating” waitresses. With the way they dressed, being hit on had to be par for the course.

“My mom’s in long-term care here at the hospital.” Betsy suddenly looked tired…and older. “The state insurance helps, but there are still bills to pay. I make more in tips alone during one shift at Trimble’s than I would in a week’s salary waiting tables in a restaurant.”

“But you have to let men—”

Her face instantly hardened. “I don’t let the men lay a finger on me. I have to wear the uniform and let them look, but I don’t have to act like most of the other waitresses there and give myself away.”

“Then can’t you get another job?” he asked. “Something that pays better than waitressing?”

“Look at me.” She swept her hand down. “Who would take me seriously? Everybody takes one look at me and thinks the same thing—sex.”

Which was exactly what he thought when she first walked in. He felt terrible. “I’m sorry. Being a jerk comes naturally to me.”

“No.” She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth for a moment, and then her smile was back in full force. “I shouldn’t let myself become so upset like that. I’m a little oversensitive about my job.”

“But I understand what you mean about people thinking you’re a certain way.” Something about this young woman made it easy to open up. “I lived my entire adult life sleeping with just about every woman I could get into bed. Then something happened that changed me. I’m a different man.” For some reason, he believed Betsy would understand. “Nobody can see that, though. I’m still Mason Wright, the irredeemable sex maniac.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Betsy reached out and placed her hand on Mason’s uninjured arm. “I’d like it if we could be friends. I don’t have many of those.” Her gaze dropped to the floor before coming back to his. “Women tend not to like me, and men usually only want one thing.”

He felt a kinship with this young woman. “I’d like to be friends, too.”

Then she frowned at him. “Okay, then, as your friend, I have to ask if you were drinking when you had your accident. The pictures of your car they put in the paper…it’s a miracle you’re alive.”

“No,” he told her. “I was sober. They say something probably ran out in front of me, and I swerved. I can’t remember.”

Suddenly, he needed to change the subject. “I’m moving to long-term care tomorrow. Didn’t you say your mother’s there? Maybe I can meet her.”

She smiled sadly. “Mom’s in a coma. She has been for over three years.”

“What happened?” he quietly asked.

“My parents and brother were coming home from Michigan—they’d been up to my grandparents.'” Tears shimmered in her eyes before a lone one broke free to trickle down her ivory skin. “Nobody knows what happened…if my dad fell asleep or got distracted…but he drove their car right into the front of a semi-truck. Mom was the only survivor, and she’s never woken up.”

He pulled his arm out from under her hand and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m very sorry. Do you see your grandparents often?”

“They can’t stand to be around me or my mom. It’s like they blame us for still being alive while their son is gone. My mom’s parents live in Washington State, where we all used to live, but they only come once or twice a year. They just can’t take seeing Mom like she is.” Betsy forced a smile. “Listen to me, telling my sob story to a man laid up in a hospital bed.”

He laughed. “That’s all right. I deserve it after I showed you such a good time at Trimble’s the other night.”

Claire had just opened the door to Mason’s room far enough to see the woman sitting in the chair. She heard what Mason said. Everything he told Claire about changing was a lie. He had been at Trimble’s with that woman—showing her a good time. Right. Though she’d never been there and wild horses on a Harley couldn’t drag her to the bar, Claire—no, everybody— in Ransom knew what went on in dark corners and the parking lot.

Claire took off, almost running in her haste to get away from the huge mistake she almost made. She rushed around the corner and bumped into somebody and jolted Zoey, who was pressed between Claire and the other person.

“Claire?” Emily Taylor’s hands fell from Claire’s shoulders, and she stepped back, her eyes glued to the little girl in Claire’s arms. “Oh, my. She looks just like Mason. What did he think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Claire informed her. “He was too busy reminiscing about the good time he showed his date at Trimble’s the other night.”

Emily’s face was awash with confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“He hasn’t changed,” Claire stated bluntly. “If you believe he has, he’s fooled you. You can go see for yourself.”

“I’ll just do that.” Emily walked past Claire, and Claire watched her until she disappeared into Mason’s room.

“So my roommate finally found the key inside the cookie jar.” Betsy finished telling Mason the story.

Mason looked up as Emily stormed through the door.

Emily looked from Betsy to Mason, and then she laughed derisively.

“Boy, was I a sucker!”

Mason had no idea what she was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“It’s unfortunate your latest conquest showed up to walk down memory lane when she did. Your daughter got to look at that floozy instead of her father,” Emily bit off.

Mason was dumbfounded. “Claire was here? She brought Zoey to see me?”

He had seen that look on Emily’s face before. She was furious. “Yes, and I’m disgusted with myself. I went to Butlers and chewed Claire out—shamed her into letting the changed man in front of me see his only child.” Sparks shot from her eyes. “Well, the laugh was on me, wasn’t it? You haven’t changed at all. You’ve just become more devious.”

“Wait a minute,” Mason said. “It’s not like that. Betsy’s not like that.”

Emily’s eyes traveled straight to Betsy’s chest. “Right.” With one last glare at Mason, she turned and left the room, not even bothering to make sure the door closed behind her.

Betsy quickly stood up and put her coat on.

“I’m sorry I messed up your visit with Zoey.” She didn’t make eye contact with Mason, instead keeping her eyes downcast.

“Listen to me, Betsy.” What could he say to fix this—to keep his new friend? “I’m sorry. It looks like we were both right. Nobody is ever going to give either of us the chance to show them we’re not who they think we are.”

She smiled sadly, still not meeting his gaze. “Goodbye, Mason.”

“Hey, we’re still friends. You’re going to stop by and see me again, right?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. All your other friends will think the same thing that lady did.”

Mason clenched his fist. “If they’re really my friends, they’ll give both of us a chance.”

Her voice was barely audible as she turned to leave. “Goodbye,” she repeated before walking out the door and closing it quietly behind her.

Mason was shell-shocked. He couldn’t believe he had been that close to seeing Zoey. And he wasn’t doing anything wrong—nothing that could justify Claire changing her mind.

Suddenly he realized something. He was tired. He was tired of feeling guilty all the time. He had apologized more times than he could count and tried in every way he knew, to show Claire how sorry he was. And she still plainly didn’t believe anything he told her, not really, or she would have at least given him a chance to explain what Betsy was doing there.

He didn’t have much to do but think, and he just might have to think about taking the decision for him to be Zoey’s father out of Claire’s hands. He was pretty sure he had some rights. He was going to call Brody Gaines to see if he would come and visit him. Besides being the state champion second-baseman and base stealer Mason knew, Brody was the best attorney he’d ever met. And he needed some legal advice.