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said to Edith,  Did Mr. Kincaid say where he got Annie?"
Edith shrugged and glanced over her shoulder at Ruth. "One of those adoption agencies where
unmarried girls go, I suppose."
"Then Annie's natural mother didn't die?" she asked.
"No. According to Mr. Kincaid, the woman just up and gave Annie away. Don't know how a mother
can do that, no matter what the reason."
Ruth fought the urge to defend herself, to yell for all to hear that she did not give her daughter up, that
her daughter had been stolen from her. Instead, she said, in a tightly controlled voice, "Does Annie
know she's adopted?"
Edith chuckled. "Oh sure. Mr. Kincaid told her as soon as she was able to understand."
"What did he tell her, about her real mother, that is?"
"Nothing much, only that she didn't have any money, so she gave Annie up to someone with money
who could raise her and give her lots of nice things. It doesn't bother Annie none though.
She has her daddy and that's all she wants."
 They do seem to have a special relationship, Ruth agreed. Determined to ferret out of Edith as much
information as she could, while she had the chance, she said,  Mr. Kincaid mentioned that his ex-wife
never sees Annie. I find that strange. Edith let out a short, cynical snort. "Mrs. Kincaid never took to
mothering. All she wanted was to make it big in Nashville. Scarcely more than a year after they got
Annie, she walked out on the two of them to take up with some country and western boys. Finally
made it to the Grand Ole Opry and her career took off from there. Didn't surprise us though. She had
one of those low husky voices that makes men sit back and take note. Mr. Kincaid liked her singing
too, but that's not all he liked. She had a pair o' jugs on her like Dolly Parton. Knew how to use them
to get men looking too." Edith chuckled. "I imagine that's what first caught Mr. Kincaid's eye. And in
Matt's eyes you, Ruth Sinclair, are a flatchested old maid who sleeps with her legs crossed. A silly,
foolish woman who d spent a fitful night fantasizing about a man whose nature it was to charm the
pants off women, though she doubted he was aware he was doing it. But Edith's description of Matt's
ex-wife, along with Annie s account of Lorinda, left no doubt in Ruth s mind the kind of woman that
attracted Matt. And it was obviously not for their brains. It was also the catalyst she needed to harden
her heart against cushy, obtuse yes, that was a good use of the word obtuse feelings about him.
With a new sense of emotional detachment from the man, and steadfast resolve to get some answers,
she drew in a steadying breath and braced herself for the answer to the next question, which could be
the deciding factor whether she stayed on as nanny, or left to continue the search for Beth. "How old
was Annie when Mr. Kincaid adopted her?" she asked. If Annie had been newborn, Beth was still out
there somewhere.
"She wasn't yet two. I think maybe around twenty months."
A pain shot through Ruth s heart as if it had been pierced. Annie had already turned two when she
was taken. But the scar, and the face on the computerized photo.... Annie had to be Beth. But how
could she be if Matt adopted her before she was two?
Black-market adoption... bogus birth certificate.... Bill's words. He'd said the date on the fake birth
certificate would be different.
Before she could ask if Annie had been large for her age, Edith said,  I have the photo Mr.
Kincaid sent me of Annie s second birthday. I was visiting my mother at the time. I'll get it." She
wiped her hands on her apron and left the room, then returned with a framed photo, which she offered
to Ruth. "Annie wasn't very happy about celebrating."
Ruth took the photo from Edith, prepared to look at a picture of Beth as a toddler, one photograph that
would settle things once and for all. But what she saw was a red-faced, squinty-eyed child with
chocolate icing smeared across her face, screaming at the top of her lungs. There was no way of
knowing if it was Beth.
"Turn it over," Edith said. "Mr. Kincaid wrote something on back."
Ruth turned the photo and read the words scrawled across the cardboard backing: This is our sweet
little Annie on her 2nd birthday. Typical woman, thinks she's already over the hill. She's got a hell
of a pair of lungs though...
Ruth set the framed photo on the table.
Edith snickered. "Doesn't that sound like Mr. Kincaid?"
"Doesn't what sound like me?" Matt strolled into the room, a small cowboy shirt in one hand, a
stuffed pig wearing cowboy boots and chaps in the other.
Edith replied, "What you wrote about Annie."
Matt tucked the stuffed pig under his arm and picked up the photo. "Annie-Big-Mouth," he said, with
affection. The memory of that day filled him with warmth. And misgiving. Warmth, because after that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]