With One More Look At You Page 9

"Trust me. I—" Forbes broke off, laughing at Sophie's sideways glance. He hadn't realized how often he asked for somebody to blindly believe in what he had to say. Until now, he had never been called on it. Or—to his knowledge—doubted with such veracity. "I know what I'm doing, Sophie. So does Dolly. If you don't believe me, you can count on her. She won't let you down."

  "Okay."

  Forbes didn't know why, but he found Sophie's acquiescence annoying. She trusted Dolly but not him? All he received were looks of either anger, weariness, or contempt. Great. Just, freaking great. The only thing that stopped him from abandoning the lesson, and telling Sophie where to shove it, was his promise to his father.

  Despite Sophie's constant jabbing at his ego—Forbes had yet to decide if it was intentional—he could tell how excited she was at the prospect of learning how to ride. Forgetting him for a few seconds, she ran her hands over Dolly's neck, leaning close, breathing deeply. A slow smile formed on her lips.

  Without a single word, Forbes understood.

  Sophie had made the connection. That moment that passed between human and horse. Not every human did. An unspoken agreement to treat each other with respect. The way Sophie breathed in Dolly's scent. She didn't wrinkle her nose the way some girls of his acquaintance did. Rather than back away, she leaned closer, inhaling again.

  Forbes knew from experience. Either one loved the way a horse smelled, or one didn't. It wasn't an acquired taste. Sophie's grin told him on which side of the debate she fell.

  "Now that the two of you are on friendly terms, let's get going." Forbes laced his fingers, holding his hands for Sophie to step into. "Grab the pommel. That's right. Now put your foot in my hands and swing your leg over."

  Sophie's tennis shoes were not ideal horseback riding footwear, but they would do for today. Forbes wouldn't take the pace beyond a walk. Boots would be required if the lessons went further, but that was something to worry about if or when it happened.

  "I like it up here." Sophie took the reins from Forbes, her head turning from side to side.

  "If you're looking for the best view, nothing beats what you'll see while riding a horse. Make me a promise?"

  "That depends."

  "Smart girl. Never agree to anything until you hear the terms."

  Sophie nodded, her dark eyes telling him it was a lesson she had already learned. Briefly, Forbes thought about asking when? Where? How? Sophie was such a contradiction. One second she was wise beyond her years. The next, she seemed impossibly young and naïve.

  She had a story to tell. Forbes was interested. Kind of. Getting anything out of her beyond a sentence or two would take time and patience. He didn't know if he cared enough to try. However, if they were going to move along to a point where Sophie was comfortable having a nice, long heart to heart, now was the perfect place to start.

  "Don't pull on the reins," Forbes instructed. "Relaxed, but not too loose. That's right. Lightly, give Dolly a nudge with your heels. Good."

  Sophie was a fast learner. Intent and interested, Forbes didn't have to tell her anything twice. It was natural for her to start off a little tense, but it didn't take her long to settle into the saddle, moving with Dolly's gait instead of against.

  Satisfied that Sophie had a handle on the basics, Forbes continued to keep an eye on her but allowed himself to relax and enjoy the ride.

  "Where are you from?"

  Forbes thought it an easy, non-invasive kind of question. A good way for people who were—for all intents and purposes—strangers, to break the ice.

  "Here and there."

  "Name a here. Or a there," Forbes prompted.

  When Sophie hesitated, Forbes patiently waited. He had all day. Or at least the duration of the ride. He couldn't understand why she treated his question with more thought than it deserved.

  "We moved around a lot. Florida. Nebraska. Louisiana."

  "I want to travel. Someday. Right now, I'm glad that I've gone to school in the same town with the same friends. Was it tough? Moving around so much?"

  "Yes."

  Sophie didn't elaborate. However, the one word—said with stark honesty—was illuminating. She had none of his advantages. Not the loving family. Not the tight-knit group of friends. Unless her worn jeans and ratty sneakers were a fashion statement, money must have been tight.

  Another tidbit his father had passed along answered part of that question. Joy had gained custody of Sophie quite suddenly—their mother's unexpected death meant the poor kid had been practically dumped in her sister's lap. Joy planned on using what little money she had to buy Sophie some new things. Then she met Newt. The rest had been such a whirlwind there hadn't been time to do more than pack their bags.

  Forbes thought it sounded a little strange. More than a little. His father didn't agree. Basically, the conversation ended with, because I said so. Newt rarely fell back on such an old chestnut. Since Forbes had no real argument to present, he let it pass.

  "Maeve told me that your mom and dad were in love. Do you remember what that was like?"

  Out of the blue, Sophie's question caught Forbes off guard. He couldn't remember ever thinking about it. His parents—the way they felt about each other—simply was. Love? Definitely. Add affection. Respect. It had been a partnership. They had set a glowing example for Forbes to follow. Something to aspire to. He had been young when his mother died, but the memories were strong. If he ever got married, he would never settle for anything less.

  "They were always touching. Not in a weird way," Forbes added. "A little brush of their hands when Dad passed by. Or Mom would set a hand on his shoulder for no particular reason. I don't think he realized, but it always made him smile. Every time."

  "Sounds nice."

  He noticed a wistfulness to Sophie's voice. Forbes nodded, feeling a little wistful himself.

  "Tell me more."

  Later, when he was alone in bed, Forbes realized how good it had felt to talk about the past. About his parents. Mostly shared things about his mother. Things he hadn't thought about in years. Sophie turned out to be a good listener. However—something else Forbes realized in the dark of night—she was skilled at avoiding questions about herself. Whenever he asked, she adroitly turned it back on him.

  Searching his mind, Forbes couldn't think of anything personal she had shared about herself. Or much on the impersonal side. In retrospect, it was… annoying.

  Forbes rolled over. The pain that radiated from his side fast reminding him why it was a bad idea to try to sleep in that position. Moving to his back, he sighed with relief. He had football practice in the morning. To his surprise, his afternoon would be filled with giving Sophie riding lesson number two. And showing her how to use the weight room in the basement.

  Smiling, Forbes pictured the scene.

  Sophie had insisted on undoing the cinch from around Dolly's middle—it took some effort, but eventually, she managed. Taking off the saddle was another matter. It was heavier than she expected. Before Forbes could warn her—or rush to her rescue—Sophie ended up flat on her ass. A little bruised, she was no worse for wear.

  "You need to build up some muscle." Teasing, Forbes made a wavy motion with his hand. "Spaghetti arms."

  For a moment, Forbes worried he had offended her. Frowning, Sophie examined her arm. Her frown turned to interest. Then determination. Turning her head to the side, she looked at Forbes.

  "Show me how."

  Interesting, Forbes thought, staring into the darkened bedroom. It hadn't occurred to him to say no. At some point when he hadn't been paying attention, he and Sophie had discovered a fork in the road—so to speak. Where that path would lead was anybody's guess. But he no longer dreaded spending time with her.

  Just maybe—though Forbes wasn't quite ready to admit it—he might be looking forward to Sophie's company. Considering where they started? That was saying a lot.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FRESHLY SHOWERED AND looking fo
rward to one of Maeve's big, rib-sticking breakfasts, Sophie had just left her room. Before she could take more than a step, Joy's hand landed in the middle of her chest. She gave Sophie a shove, slamming the door behind them.

  "We have a problem."

  Sophie figured it had to be serious for Joy to get out of bed this early. The question was, which problem was her mother referring to? Between them, they were teaming with them.

  "You're going to have to be more specific."

  "Newt wants me to register you for school."

  That wasn't a problem. That was a miracle.

  Sophie turned away before Joy could see the excitement in her expression. School. That meant they would be sticking around for a while. Good for Joy. Great for Sophie. How it would affect Newt and the rest of the Branson household, only time would tell.

  "I'm game." That was putting it mildly.

  "I don't care about you."

  Alert the media. Sophie's thoughts dripped with sarcasm. Her face as she looked at Joy, was the epitome of bland.

  "What do you need me to do?" Name it. If it meant attending a real school, Sophie would agree to pretty much anything.

  "I've created a backstory. Newt buys it. Now it's up to you to help me sell it when the time comes."

  "Okay."

  "That's it?" Joy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You agreed awfully quickly. What happened to, I don't like to lie." Joy whined the words. "Where's that annoying conscience that crops up at the most inconvenient times?"

  "Tell me what I need to know," Sophie said with all sincerity. "I'll back you one hundred percent."

  Joy scoffed, shaking her head. "Now I see."

  Sophie doubted it. Raising her eyebrows, she waited for Joy to explain her sudden revelation.

  "It's because you have the hots for Forbes."

  "What? You're crazy."

  Sophie shouldn't have been surprised. Joy's mind traveled in one direction. Straight down the gutter. Her mother couldn't imagine any motivation that didn't involve a man.

  "Oh, I admit you're a bit backward when it comes to such things." Joy stopped in front of the mirror—one of her top three places to be—to check her reflection. Licking the tip of her little finger, she smoothed it along the line of her eyebrow. "It was bound to happen. Forbes is a tasty piece of merchandise." She smiled to herself, licking her lips before slowly turning away.

  "I don't think of him like that."

  "Why not? It would be so easy. You're out riding horses." Joy shuddered, her mouth puckering unpleasantly as if she were sucking on a lemon. "There must be hundreds of secluded spots just right for fooling around."

  "No." This time, Sophie shuddered. "Absolutely not."

  "Do I have a budding lesbian on my hands?" Joy seemed to find the idea highly amusing.

  Sophie wasn't interested in Forbes—or any other boy at the moment. But she knew that she was heterosexual. But gay or straight, the last person she would confide in was Joy. Sophie's sexuality wouldn't be fodder for her mother's nasty comments. Better she didn't know—one way or the other.

  "What's the difference? I'm not interested in fooling around with either sex."

  "You will be." Joy sounded so sure of herself that Sophie almost believed her. Almost. "This is a conservative part of the country, Sophie. You'll have a difficult enough time fitting in without the gay stigma."

  Joy was on fire for such an early hour. She had managed to insult Sophie—you'll have a difficult time fitting in—and the entire gay community in a few short sentences.

  "If I promise not to jump any girls in the bathroom, will that satisfy you? I think I can control my baser urges."

  "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

  "Of course not." Sophie's lips didn't even twitch. "I'm not clever enough, and you have no sense of humor. What would be the point of trying?"

  Joy's eyes narrowed. Sophie's jabs usually didn't connect—ninety-nine percent of the time it was because she tuned out what her daughter had to say. That wasn't the case at the moment.

  "You think I won't give you a slap." Joy sighed with regret. "And you're right. A pinch, on the other hand, doesn't bother me at all."

  Before Sophie could react, Joy latched onto the flesh of her upper thigh, giving it a vicious twist. It took some doing, but Sophie managed not to yelp in pain. In her head, she called her mother a bitch. Then added a colorful assortment of other names she would never think of speaking aloud.

  "That was satisfying. I don't know why I didn't think of it before." Joy brushed her hands together several times, signaling a job well done. "Back to the point. This afternoon, Newt will drive us to the high school for a meeting with Principal… I forget her name, but it doesn't matter. The adults will do the talking. All that is required of you is a smile and an occasional nod. Understood?"

  "Don't you think the principal will want to ask me a few questions?"

  "Perhaps." Joy gave it some thought. "You know what I told Newt."

  About her evil mother keeping her isolated and uneducated? Since it was the truth, Sophie didn't think she would have any problem remembering the story.

  "We're leaving at one o'clock. Sharp." Joy yawned. "I think I'll go back to bed. I don't know how anybody functions at this hour of the morning. One o'clock, Sophie. Don't make me come looking for you."

  That wouldn't be necessary. The second Joy was out of the room, Sophie did an all-out, extended version of her happy dance. Hopping. Fist pumping. Feet thumping. Silent screaming.

  The one-word song played in her head over and over again.

  School. School. School.

  Was there a more exciting, hopeful word in the English language? In Sophie's book, that was a big, fat no. For a chance at a formal education—surrounded by people her own age—it was a dream come true.

  Sophie's smile slipped, her enthusiasm ratcheting down a notch or two. There would be a price attached to her happiness. And she was afraid Newt would be the one to pay.

  Deep down—no matter what she tried to tell herself—she had known this moment would come. There would be no going back once she walked into her first class. To achieve her heart's desire, she would be stuck with the lies.

  Would it be worth it? A week? A month? Perhaps an entire year of school? Selfishly, Sophie didn't have to search too hard to decide the answer was a resounding yes. She—and what was left of her crumbling conscience—would have to live with the consequences.

  Whatever they were.

  "THE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE unusual. But we have procedures in place for almost every contingency." Principal Doris Breckenridge tapped a series of keys on her computer. "Sophie is the victim in all of this. It's up to us—the education system—to make certain she won't be penalized again because of someone else's grievous errors."

  "Sophie is a bright girl, Doris." Newt sent Sophie an encouraging smile.

  "I'm sure."

  Sophie wished she was as certain as Newt and Principal Breckenridge. An hour ago, her resolve was rock solid. As each mile passed on the drive to Cloverton, she felt her confidence slip. Bit by bit. Stepping into the high school for the first time, part of her wanted to turn and run. It was so quiet. Eerily so. The building bigger than she imagined.

  Never dormant for long, her imagination began working overtime, clearly picturing the halls filled with sweaty, jostling teenage bodies. Sophie wouldn't stand a chance. They would trample her like so much trash, grinding her bones to dust.

  What had she been thinking? Breaking out her never-before-worn shorts and making certain her hair was neatly combed had seemed like enough when she was getting ready. Now, she wondered why she bothered.

  Sophie's heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. Her mouth was dry. Her palms wet. Her stomach flipped, flopped, then twisted into a pretzel. Sophie swallowed, feeling slightly green around the gills. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten that second bowl of chili for lunch.

  "The solution is simple.
I will administer a standardized test to assess where Sophie is compared to her peers. Most students her age would be entering the tenth grade. Considering her… situation, I don't want anybody to expect too much." Principal Breckenridge sent Sophie a sympathetic smile. "The most important thing is to give you the best chance to succeed."

  "Sophie is grateful for the chance. Aren't you?"

  Afraid that if she tried to speak the best she could do was make an embarrassing squeak, Sophie nodded. It seemed to be all that anybody expected from her. Thank goodness.

  "Fine. The test will take about three hours. I can set it up for any day this week."

  "Tomorrow?" Newt asked.

  Since it had worked so far, Sophie shook her head one more time.

  "Wonderful. Did you bring Sophie's birth certificate?"

  The ringing in Sophie's ears stopped. So did her breathing. Birth certificate? Watching intently as Joy took a piece of paper from her purse, Sophie struggled with the implications. For as long as she could remember, Joy claimed she didn't possess such a document. Sophie had lost track of the times she had asked. Where was I born? Who was my father? Joy would either shrug and not answer or coldly inform her that it didn't matter.

  Well, it mattered to Sophie.

  Principal Breckenridge read the document, a frown forming between her brows.

  "Mother. Joy Lipton?"

  "I was named after our mother. When she passed away, I found the birth certificate when I was cleaning out her apartment."

  Joy was never without a plausible explanation, Sophie thought bitterly. She couldn't decide which she wanted most. Use her fingers to snatch the paper, or wrap them around her mother's throat. Wisely, she clasped her hands in her lap, refraining from either. She had waited this long. Besides, the document wasn't going anywhere. Neither was Joy's neck.

  "You were born in Philadelphia?" Principal Breckenridge typed, preparing a file with Sophie's name on it. "What a small world. I did my undergraduate studies there."

  "Sophie doesn't remember. Mom moved shortly after she was born."

  Forty-five minutes later, and what seemed like an endless return trip to the ranch, a strange calm had settled over Sophie. She wasn't angry. Or distressed. Determined. That was the word she would use. Giving Joy a small head start, Sophie calmly made her way through the living room to the kitchen.