Read Online Reason To Believe by Kathleen Eagle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen Eagle
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loss of something. Innocence, she told herself. All she'd lost was her innocence, and good riddance. For an intelligent woman, it had taken her too damn long to wise up.
Chapter 3
They were all in the car before Clara gave the first thought to where she was sitting and why Ben had his hand out. She'd automatically headed for the passenger's side and let him take the wheel. He had turned the keys over to her in the same manner more than a few times when he'd been drinking, but otherwise, Ben had always been the driver. He knew cars inside and out. He couldn't stand to ride in a car with someone else driving. Clara didn't like to drive, so it had always worked out well.
Until now. There was an awkward moment, a wordless power struggle. But they were already in the car, she told herself as she turned the keys over to him.
No one had spoken much this morning. Clara had said quiet good-mornings and made a perfunctory inquiry as to whether Ben had slept well.
"Sleeping is one thing I do better than most people." He'd handed her a cup of the coffee he had made—just like old times—before she'd gotten up. "Even better than you," he'd added softly. "Your eyes always give you away, Clara-bow."
She had glared at him—snapped her eyes, as he used to say. Words generally made the better darts for Clara, but kiss off was hard for a woman to say effectively when she had puffy eyes.
She'd noticed that Anna was treading lightly this morning on the delicate balance between physical misery and mental elation. Her father had stayed, and she wasn't about to upset any apple carts if she could possibly help it. She offered no excuses, asked no questions, invited no lies.
Clara was half expecting Ben to impart some words of warning or wisdom to his daughter, but all he'd acknowledged so far was sympathy for her aching head. "Nothing to do but ride it out," he'd said with a sad smile. "Wish I could do it for you, Annie girl, but I'm afraid you're on your own."
It galled Clara to think that if she had made a remark like that, Anna would have offered some bitter retort instead of the wan smile she'd given her father. But Clara realized that coming from her, it wouldn't have sounded the same. It wouldn't have carried the same meaning. Ben was speaking from experience.
With Ben it was all empathy and no judgment. Clara stared past the intersection at the state's only skyscraper, the seat of its government. The capitol building stood next door to the Heritage Center, where she worked, where she did what she did best and did it very, very well. Clara knew her stuff. She also knew right from wrong, and that was something worth sharing with the daughter she loved. Why should she resent the famous sympathetic ear of Ben Pipestone? The one thing she could not deny was that he loved Anna, too.
Under any other circumstances, Ben would have considered probation officer Margaret Turnbull to be a reasonably attractive woman. Her blazer and slacks suited her stocky stature, and she had a nice, soft hairstyle, manicured nails, friendly handshake—all qualities he thought pleasant. But her office was down the hall from the room where he'd been booked for driving under the influence, and unless his nose was playing tricks on him, she smelled of fingerprinting ink.
"We meet at last, Mr. Pipestone," Officer Turnbull declared. With an expansive gesture she offered chairs all around.
"I should have come sooner." He wasn't sure what she'd been told, so he glanced Clara's way for some hint. None seemed forthcoming. "I'm stayin' down in McLaughlin now, so it's hard for me to—"
"No problem; I understand. But it is good to meet you. It is definitely in Anna's best interest to have everyone in the family involved with her program." Ms. Turnbull led the way in the taking of seats. "We don't always get that kind of cooperation, but we do try."
"You'll get it from me," Ben assured her. "You just tell me how."
She offered a perfunctory smile. "You're taking
Chapter 3
They were all in the car before Clara gave the first thought to where she was sitting and why Ben had his hand out. She'd automatically headed for the passenger's side and let him take the wheel. He had turned the keys over to her in the same manner more than a few times when he'd been drinking, but otherwise, Ben had always been the driver. He knew cars inside and out. He couldn't stand to ride in a car with someone else driving. Clara didn't like to drive, so it had always worked out well.
Until now. There was an awkward moment, a wordless power struggle. But they were already in the car, she told herself as she turned the keys over to him.
No one had spoken much this morning. Clara had said quiet good-mornings and made a perfunctory inquiry as to whether Ben had slept well.
"Sleeping is one thing I do better than most people." He'd handed her a cup of the coffee he had made—just like old times—before she'd gotten up. "Even better than you," he'd added softly. "Your eyes always give you away, Clara-bow."
She had glared at him—snapped her eyes, as he used to say. Words generally made the better darts for Clara, but kiss off was hard for a woman to say effectively when she had puffy eyes.
She'd noticed that Anna was treading lightly this morning on the delicate balance between physical misery and mental elation. Her father had stayed, and she wasn't about to upset any apple carts if she could possibly help it. She offered no excuses, asked no questions, invited no lies.
Clara was half expecting Ben to impart some words of warning or wisdom to his daughter, but all he'd acknowledged so far was sympathy for her aching head. "Nothing to do but ride it out," he'd said with a sad smile. "Wish I could do it for you, Annie girl, but I'm afraid you're on your own."
It galled Clara to think that if she had made a remark like that, Anna would have offered some bitter retort instead of the wan smile she'd given her father. But Clara realized that coming from her, it wouldn't have sounded the same. It wouldn't have carried the same meaning. Ben was speaking from experience.
With Ben it was all empathy and no judgment. Clara stared past the intersection at the state's only skyscraper, the seat of its government. The capitol building stood next door to the Heritage Center, where she worked, where she did what she did best and did it very, very well. Clara knew her stuff. She also knew right from wrong, and that was something worth sharing with the daughter she loved. Why should she resent the famous sympathetic ear of Ben Pipestone? The one thing she could not deny was that he loved Anna, too.
Under any other circumstances, Ben would have considered probation officer Margaret Turnbull to be a reasonably attractive woman. Her blazer and slacks suited her stocky stature, and she had a nice, soft hairstyle, manicured nails, friendly handshake—all qualities he thought pleasant. But her office was down the hall from the room where he'd been booked for driving under the influence, and unless his nose was playing tricks on him, she smelled of fingerprinting ink.
"We meet at last, Mr. Pipestone," Officer Turnbull declared. With an expansive gesture she offered chairs all around.
"I should have come sooner." He wasn't sure what she'd been told, so he glanced Clara's way for some hint. None seemed forthcoming. "I'm stayin' down in McLaughlin now, so it's hard for me to—"
"No problem; I understand. But it is good to meet you. It is definitely in Anna's best interest to have everyone in the family involved with her program." Ms. Turnbull led the way in the taking of seats. "We don't always get that kind of cooperation, but we do try."
"You'll get it from me," Ben assured her. "You just tell me how."
She offered a perfunctory smile. "You're taking
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