Page 30 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

His words came back to haunt her. No doubt he was still in love with that soulless bitch.

He was still pining for a woman who had betrayed him.

Could she blame him? she thought bitterly.

She had seen photos of her. Michelle something and the woman had looked like a China doll, with her long fall of black hair and very white skin.

Next to her, Yasmine realized that she looked like an elephant.

She was twice the woman's size, and her skin was not white.

She never stood a chance, she realized as the tears started to subside.

But she could not allow this to break her. She had made a mistake again, something she seemed to have a penchant for. She had spoken out of turn and had jumped the gun.

Pressing a hand on her swollen stomach, she felt the tears starting again.

She had fallen in love with the baby she was carrying, one that she had agreed to carry for a tidy sum of money.

She had signed a contract and accepted the cash.

It was up to her to deliver. And stop thinking that she was the mother.

He had pointed out to her that she was just the vessel and nothing more.

*****

"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 she could 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?"

Baffled, Maeve gazed at her and saw the sadness pouring from her. "You're beautiful and that baby you're carrying is undoubtedly his. You're loyal and committed and smart as well as talented. You would never hurt him that way."

"Can I get all of those emblazoned on my forehead?" she wondered bitterly. "You're forgetting that I am a size sixteen, well, I might be a size eighteen right now. I am not petite, and I happen to be black."

Maeve drew herself up, a warning glint in her eyes. "I raised my children to be proud of who they are. The color of a person's skin has little bearing on what's important and I would like to think you know that much."

She felt suitably chastened.

"It does not matter. It's over, whatever it is, it's done."

"Do you really believe that? I saw the way that man looked at you. He purposefully came to get you. He might be struggling right now because of what he has been through, but I guarantee he will never be able to stay away. Give him time."

"He can take all the damn time he needs." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mama, but that's how I feel."

Her mother nodded. "That's to be expected. In the meantime, we need to take your mind off things. And the planning of the wedding will do the trick."

"Will it?" she mused wryly. "But you're right, I should get my mind off it."

*****

She threw herself into the planning, taking over the wedding invitations.

She had a very precise and lovely handwriting, which made it easy.

She was almost finished with the illustrations and would be sending them off by special delivery in a day or two.

The small number of people they had thought to invite had grown steadily.

Two local people were getting married, and it was a big deal.

A few people would be invited to the actual ceremony at the small church, but the farmhouse or rather the barn would be open to several people.

If a twinge of envy popped up every now and then, she would ignore it and keep busy.

And she refused to take his phone calls.

She had seen in the papers where he donated farming equipment to several farmers who had been displaced by a major storm and sat there staring at his photo on the internet.

She had read the article several times and it brought home the fact that he was out of her league.

Men like Conail McLaughlin never marry women like her, no matter what the new magazine 'Members in Love -- White men marrying black women' says.

She had no idea how they pulled it off, but she was not that fortunate. And besides, the odds were stacked high against her. He was clearly still in love with that woman. She thought too much of herself to even consider competing against her.

"It's him again."

She looked up from the thank-you notes she was penning. The gifts had started coming in and the notes needed to be sent out.

"Tell him I'm busy."

"Honey--"

"Mama, please." They were in the kitchen where Maeve had served pies and hot chocolate. Maddy had gone into the office to deal with a client and would be back in the afternoon. Pushing away from the table, Yasmine left the room.

With a sigh, Maeve uncovered the mouthpiece. "She's not ready."

"I see. Any suggestions?" he asked lightly. "I really messed things up."

"You did. I know it's not any of my business, but I need to know if you're still in love with that young woman."

Sitting around his desk, Conail weighed the odds of baring his soul to a perfect stranger.

"No," he answered quietly. "I panicked when Yasmine wanted answers and said the wrong thing. I want to apologize for it."

"An apology alone is not going to work," Maeve told him briskly. "Tell you what. Why don't you come to the wedding? It's on Saturday and she will not be able to avoid you."

"I don't think--"

"Young man, take my advice. My daughter is hurting something fierce and she's stubborn enough to allow this to continue. If you care about her at all, you will think about that."

"I'm assuming my invitation will be in the mail?" There was a hint of amusement in the deep voice that had her smiling.

"Special delivery. I won't say a word to her."

"I would appreciate it. Thanks Maeve."

"You can thank me by making my daughter happy."

"You can count on it." He hung up and settled back in the chair.

It had been a week since the awful incident and he had not slept a wink or had a moment of peace.

His own mother was not speaking to him after she heard what had happened.

And he missed Yasmine like crazy. He could not go on like this.