Page 5 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

"It's not right." Clive stared at his wife as if she had grown two horns and a tail. "It's just not right."

"I heard you the first time." Wringing the water out of the dish rag, she polished the already spotless counter furiously, movements jerky. "Are you going to drink the coffee or just let it go cold?"

He picked it up and put it back down without tasting it. "We cannot ask our daughter to do something like that. It's not right."

"Our daughter is a grown woman, and it will be entirely up to her." Ignoring the accusing stare, she turned back to the oven to take out the cinnamon bread. Plopping it down on the cooling rack, she rounded on him furiously. "If you have a better solution, let's hear it."

He hated the argument, hated more the fact that all of this was because of his illness. He was not playing his part, and everything was left to his wife and son. And now this.

"We could sell--" He reared back as she rounded on him with fury in her eyes.

"I cannot believe I'm hearing this from you. We already sold pieces of the land, and we cannot afford to even consider doing so again." She fisted her hands on her hips, eyes flashing. "It's the only way."

"She's our daughter! And the child, the baby would not be hers."

"We don't know what will happen," she said cagily, turning to the stove where she had vegetable stew simmering.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her back. They had been married for almost forty years, and he knew her as much as she knew herself.

"Maeve?"

"What?" She continued to stir.

"What are you up to?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Shoving away from the table, he made his way over to the stove, until he was facing her.

"You're going to get burned." She avoided his eyes and continued to stir.

He simply reached out and plucked the spoon from her, placing it in the holder. Taking her arm, he led her to the table and practically shoved her into a chair.

"Clive Joshua Smith!" She folded her arms over her chest, eyes flashing. "I don't appreciate being handled."

His eyes flashed and had her rearing back. He was always the quiet one in the relationship. Any hell raising was left up to her and she was very good at it. Her husband was not easily riled.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing." She tried for a pout, something that always had him giving over, but this time it did not work. Sighing, she unfolded her arms and clasped them on the table. "You know how Yasmine has been hurt by that man."

"What does that have to do with anything?" His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her. "You and Eleanor are playing matchmaker." His eyes popped wide open when he saw the guilt on her lovely face. "Maeve Joan Smith! What the hell are you thinking?"

"I will not have you swearing--"

"I will swear any damn day of the year. Up and down this hallway. Do you really think a man like Conail McLauglin would ever go for our daughter?"

"What's wrong with her? Nothing. Yasmine is a beautiful girl. He'd be lucky to have her in his life."

"I agree with you." He shook his head as he continued to stare at her. "What are you going to tell her? The truth?"

"No. We want it to happen naturally."

"We as in you and Eleanor." He sighed softly.

"Maeve, you cannot do this to her. Yasmine is never going to go for it.

And a man like Conail is never going to give her a second look.

A surrogate, for crying out loud. Why not go the original route?

And does the man even want a biracial child?

Have you and Eleanor thought to ask him how he feels about it? I'm guessing no."

"It does not matter to him. He's leaving everything up to his mother.

" She gave him a pleading look. "It's going to work out.

We'll get the money for the farm, for all the things we need to do and have no way of doing so.

This will give us the leverage we need. You know this is the only way. The bank keeps calling--"

"That son of a bitch who runs it knows that I have been ill, and the drought wiped us out." He could feel the anger gathering inside his chest and his helplessness made him want to just smash something. "He could have given us an extension."

Placing her hand over the one he had fisted on the table, she rubbed soothingly.

"We already received two extensions. The man has a business to run just the same as we do.

The money being offered for the surrogacy is substantial and will go a long way in tiding us over.

Colin is trying his best, but I see the frustration on his face every single day as he tries to eke out a living from what we have left.

" She heaved out a breath. "You did not make yourself sick, honey.

These things happen. We have plans to put things in place so that we are on even footing.

And this will never happen to us again. I want you to understand. "

He did. By God, he did. But it hurt and was a blow to his pride that everyone was pitching in except him. They would basically be selling their daughter's uterus to get them out of the hole they found themselves in.

"Does Colin know?"

"I mentioned it to him, yes."

"And? What did he say?"

"He's not too keen on the idea. I just wanted y'all to know before Yaz gets here."

"What do you think she's going to say?"

"I don't know, but it's the only way and we all have to play our part."

"Only, she's the one who will be doing the sacrifice." Pulling away from her, he pushed back his chair and rose and without another word, left the room. She sat there for a minute, staring at the empty doorway, then with a sigh, she pushed to her feet and went to rescue her stew.

*****

Colin hopped off the tractor and went straight to the stream to drink some of the cool water and just take a few minutes from the punishing glare of the sun. It was late afternoon, but the heat was still relentless.

Dipping his canteen into the water, he filled it up and took a long swallow, appreciating the sweet taste that flowed into his parched throat.

Splashing some on his hand, he rubbed it over his face and the back of his neck.

He might have to lay off until the sun went down and the time was cooler.

He had fences to mend and the animals to feed.

Lowering, he stretched his legs out and sighed as the breeze cooled his skin. He was tired. His hands were raw and chapped. He longed to take a day or two or even a week and go somewhere but could not afford that luxury.

His sister was coming home. His brow furrowed at the thought of what awaited her.

She was going to have to sacrifice herself for the good of the farm.

It did not sit right with him. As soon as his mother had told him of the plan, he had been wracking his brain to come up with something, anything else that could get them out of the hole they found themselves in. But nothing came to mind.

Picking up the canteen, he was about to take another sip when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching.

Turning his head, he went rigid as he recognized the jeep. Green chrome with a black finish. He would have known it anywhere. And he was not ready for this. What the hell was she doing here?

Rising slowly, he turned around and waited until she had stopped the vehicle and got out.

"Hi." Her smile was hesitant. "Your mother said I would find you here." She looked as fresh as a daisy in spite of the heat. Her thick curls were brushed ruthlessly back into a bun at the nape of her neck. The dress she was wearing had thin straps that exposed well-toned arms and slender shoulders.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Ignoring the churning in his stomach and the ache in his heart, he set his face like stone.

"Yes." She rubbed her hands on her dress. "I was on my way to the supermarket and thought I would drop by to see if you had eggs."

"Eggs?" His brow descended in a frown as he stared at her. "You were on your way to the supermarket and I'm sure they have eggs there."

She linked her fingers. "Aunty wants eggs fresh from the farm as well as milk." She started to bridge the distance between them, stopping when he took a step back. "Your mom said the ones you collected this morning are already gone."

"Then it appears we have no more." His expression was chilly. "What is it that you really want, Madeline?"

Her heart ached at the tone of his voice.

She remembered days when he would whisper in her ear and make love to her until she was mindless with pleasure.

The Colin standing before her was a far different man and she had a lot to do with his change of attitude.

She had broken his heart by leaving, only to find out that she belonged here after all.

And that she was still in love with him.

But after what she did, she had little hope that he would forgive her.

"I want to say I'm sorry."

"Good, now get the hell off my land and let me get some work done."

"Colin, please. I--"

"No." He held up a hand. "You do not get to breeze back into town and smile at me and say you're sorry.

We had something special, and you broke it.

" Taking a shuddering breath, he turned away from her.

Standing here with her, smelling her elusive perfume, seeing her beautiful face had the ache burgeoning inside him.

He could not do this now. He was too vulnerable.

He had too much on his mind to deal with this. He was not prepared.

Madeline stood there, her eyes pleading with him. She had rehearsed this moment countless times, but now, faced with Colin's palpable anger and hurt, all her words seemed to vanish. The silence between them stretched, heavy and oppressive.

"Colin," she finally whispered, her voice trembling, "I know I hurt you. I was wrong. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I should have fought for us. For you."

He stood still, the muscles in his back taut. "Madeline, it's too late for apologies. The damage is done."