Page 57 of A Treasure Worth Seeking

wanted the strong bonds of a family based on love, it wasn’t enough.

I don’t know what’s happening to me…

Looking up at him, she fell under the full power of his eyes. They seemed to touch her soul and ignite her spirit. She looked at him deep and long, for she knew that this might be the last time. It might have to last her for the rest of her life.

You have two very feminine habits, Erin O’Shea…

Finally, she lowered her eyes and shook her head. “No. I have nothing more to say.”

There was a heavy silence in the room so complete that they could hear the traffic several stories below them on the Houston streets. She closed her eyes against the pain in her heart when she heard Lance turn on his heels and stalk to the door. The clicking sound of the closing latch was like a bullet that ended her life.

She collapsed on the sofa, succumbing to her misery. The spasm of heartbreak lasted for so long that Bart became genuinely concerned for her health. He tried in his endearing, clumsy way to comfort her, but was unsuccessful. Finally, his desperation bordered on anger and he commanded, “Look here, Erin, I don’t want you to lose that baby of yours, so straighten up!”

More than what he said, it was his use of her name that caused her to sit up and choke back lingering tears.

“That’s more like it,” he grumbled.

“You called me by my name, Bart.”

“Don’t I always?” he asked with a puzzled expression.

She smiled and fondly touched his cheek. “No,” she whispered.

He stood up and took a few steps away from her. “Sugar, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say, but here goes. You should tell Barrett about the baby. The way he looked at you, for a minute there, I thought, well… it was like… you know. Like he might love you. Let me go after him.”

“No, Bart. I can’t tell him.”

Quietly, hesitantly he said, “He has a right to know, darlin’. That baby is his too, you know.”

She sighed. She had thought of that. “Yes. He’ll have to know, of course, but not now. Maybe when the baby’s born, my lawyers or something…” Her voice trailed off. She had no energy left.

“You know I still want to marry you.” Bart cleared his throat. “Will you change your mind? I love you.” An incredible sadness clouded his dark eyes.

“I love you too, Bart. You’re the dearest friend I have,” she said sincerely.

“Yeah, I know,” he snorted mirthlessly. After a moment he asked, “Do you want me to call the doctor and have him send out a tranquilizer? Frankly, you look like hell,” he said.

She laughed ruefully. “Well, in this case looks aren’t deceiving because that’s just how I feel.” When the crease between his brows deepened, she said, “No, I don’t need a tranquilizer. It’s been an eventful day. I just want to go home to bed.”

“Can I drive you?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

As they walked toward the door, Bart asked, “Why did Barrett come here in the first place?”

Erin’s fingers closed around the envelope that contained the picture so precious to her. It was the only remnant she had of her mother and brother. It was also the only thing that Lance had ever given her. For a while, she wanted to keep it to herself.

“It was only some unfinished business about Ken,” she answered vaguely.

* * *

Erin was drained from the heat and exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the day as she let herself in the back door of her house. She noticed that the petunias in the flower beds were drooping with thirst. If she had any conscience, she would come out here and water them, but she doubted that she could amass the energy tonight.

She switched on the central air conditioning system that had been one of her improvements to the house. Laboriously climbing the stairs, she went into her bedroom and turned on the overhead fan to stir the sultry air until the air conditioner could take over.

She changed into a full, loose sundress that was held on to her shoulders with thin straps. The pale blue gauzy fabric swirled around her like a cloud. No longer able to tolerate any confinement, she peeled off her panty hose and slipped on a pair of bikini panties, discarding her other underwear.

The thought of food was obnoxious, but she went downstairs into the kitchen and fixed a glass of iced tea, liberally spiking it with lemon juice.

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