Page 61 of Conail

"Honey, I never realized you came home last night," Maeve declared as soon as she stepped into her daughter's room the following morning.

She was lying. She had seen the vehicle approaching and rose to look out the window. The moon had been high and bright enough for her to notice the couple weren't speaking to each other. She had just prevented herself from rushing into her daughter's bedroom to find out what was going on. As far as shecould tell, yesterday when he came and asked to take her for a ride, it meant they weren't coming back.

Her observant gaze took in the puffy eyes and felt her heart turning over. She was bundled in a robe and sitting around her desk, painting furiously.

"I did. Mama, I'm sorry, I'm really busy."

"I brought you some breakfast." Ignoring the lack of invitation, she brought the tray over and put it on the desk. Then she crossed to sit on the faded sofa. "You need to eat."

"I need to work." Yasmine still had not looked up. Sleep had escaped for the better part of the night, and she had lain in bed thinking up all sorts of reasons why she should stay under the covers.

But her illustrations were past due, and the publisher was making noises. She had to get it done. No matter what was happening in her life, her work was important.

"Your brother and Maddy have gone into town to purchase the ring. Maddy is coming back to discuss the menu. We would love for you to be involved. There's so much to do."

"Do it without me." She looked up then, her face set. "I don't have the time."

Maeve folded her hands on her apron and gave her daughter a long, thoughtful look. "I like to think I brought you up with the assurance that whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. If you had a spat--"

She had to laugh. A 'spat' sounded so tame and minuscule to what had happened last night.

"It doesn't matter."

"Apparently it does. Baby, please talk to me."

Her eyes welled up before she could stop herself.

"Oh honey!" Maeve rushed to kneel at her feet. Taking her daughter's hands, she drew her up and led her towards the sofa. "Cry it out baby, you'll feel the better for it."

"I won't." She hiccupped. Pulling away from the comforting shoulder, she wiped her eyes and steadied herself. "I promised myself that I would not cry anymore."

"Can you tell me?"

Yasmine nodded and blurted it all out. Maeve listened patiently, feeling for the two young people.

"Have you heard everything he went through?" she asked her daughter quietly.

Yasmine shrugged. "He thought the baby was his. When it turned out that it was for his best friend."

Maeve nodded. "You were away when it happened. Eleanor was excited of course. She was anticipating her first grandchild. There were no words. Conail bought a house."

A frown pleated Yasmine's brow. "He did?"

Her mother's expression was somber. "I got to see the photos, because Eleanor showed them to me. He wanted to surprise the woman, so he got his realtor to find something with a huge yard space so that there would be play areas for the child. And he got someone to design the nursery. They were having a boy, and he was over the moon."

"He loved her," Yasmine murmured dully, feeling her heart aching.

"From what I understood, yes, he did. Anyway, that was when the friend decided to step in and tell him the truth."

"She shattered his life."

"In a big way. The friend was someone who grew up with him, they went to school together."

Yasmine rose a little unsteadily and started to pace. "So, I cannot compete with that. With her."

"Why would you want to?"

She turned to look at her mother askance. "How can you ask me that?"

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