Sanctuary Read online

  New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak brings you a captivating story of two sisters who have to escape their hometown to change their future.

  Hope Tanner escaped her polygamous community in Superior, Utah, ten years ago—pregnant and alone. She ended up at The Birth Place in Enchantment, New Mexico, where Lydia Kane, the clinic’s founder, handled the private adoption of her baby. A baby Hope never held…and never stopped thinking about.

  Now Hope briefly returns to her hometown to help her pregnant younger sister, Faith, escape, too. They flee to The Birth Place for sanctuary, but Parker, the center’s administrator and a widowed single father, isn’t pleased to see Hope back in Enchantment. She doesn’t understand his animosity. In fact, she almost wonders if he has something to hide…

  “What the hell did you just do?”

  “Hope came here asking for a job, Parker, and I gave her one. Okay?” Lydia raised her brows. “We owe her that much, don’t you think?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We might owe her,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure we can’t afford to give her anything.”

  “You’re overreacting, Parker. She’s only going to work here. That doesn’t mean anything. We don’t even know how long she’s going to stay.”

  “It means I’ll have to see her every day.”

  “So will I.”

  “She could destroy The Birth Place—destroy you.”

  “I know.”

  “She could take Dalton away from me,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.

  “She’s not going to take Dalton away. She doesn’t suspect anything. She just needs a break.”

  “You’re a fool,” he said angrily, and walked out.

  Lydia stared after him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Dear Reader,

  The comment I received repeatedly from people who read this book when it was only in manuscript form was that it’s “compelling.” I hope that’s true, because as I wrote it, the characters seemed to come to life, and the choices they made truly moved me. They prompted me to take a closer look at issues that have always intrigued me—what makes some of us do the things we do, believe what we do, accept or reject what others tell us is “right”? I don’t pretend to have the answers to those questions. But I certainly enjoyed watching Hope draw her own conclusions.

  The research for this story took me to Hillsdale and Colorado City, a small community straddling the Utah/Colorado border and inhabited by polygamists. Yes, as hard as it is to believe, they still exist. Many of them live there, in rambling houses that are purposely left unfinished. The only grocery store is a co-op, to discourage trade with outsiders. There is one gas station and a sprinkling of businesses. The people are unique, and I think visiting there added color to my story.

  It was a pleasure to be able to work with such talented authors as the five who have written the rest of the books in THE BIRTH PLACE series—Darlene Graham, Roxanne Rustand, C.J. Carmichael, Kathleen O’Brien and Marisa Carroll. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to enjoy their books, too.

  I’d love to hear what you think of Sanctuary or any of my other work. Please feel free to contact me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611. Or simply log on to my Web site at www.brendanovak.com to leave me an e-mail, check out my news and appearances page, win some great prizes or learn about my upcoming releases.

  Best wishes,

  Brenda Novak

  Sanctuary

  Brenda Novak

  To Thad, the youngest in the family

  and a little boy who’s larger than life. Thad, you might be

  only six, but you already possess the heart of a lion.

  The way you deal with the difficulties you face each day

  leaves me shaking my head in wonder and admiration. You

  go, sweetheart—nothing can ever stop a man with courage

  like yours. If you forget everything I’ve ever taught you,

  remember this: my love is everlasting.

  Books by Brenda Novak

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  899—EXPECTATIONS

  939—SNOW BABY

  955—BABY BUSINESS

  987—DEAR MAGGIE

  1021—WE SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS

  1058—SHOOTING THE MOON

  1083—A BABY OF HER OWN

  1130—A HUSBAND OF HER OWN

  HARLEQUIN SINGLE TITLE

  TAKING THE HEAT

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  PROLOGUE

  The Birth Place

  Enchantment, New Mexico

  June, 1993

  LYDIA KANE had keen, shrewd eyes. Hope Tanner stared into them, drawing strength from the older woman as another pain racked her. The contractions were coming close together now—and hard, much harder than before. Her legs shook in reaction, whether from pain or fear, she didn’t know. She didn’t feel as though she knew much about anything. She was barely seventeen.

  “That’s it,” Lydia said from the foot of the bed. “You’re getting there now. Just relax, honey, and breathe.”

  “I want to push,” Hope panted. Though the baby wasn’t overdue, Hope was more than anxious to be finished with the pregnancy. Lydia had put some sort of hormonal cream inside her—on what she called a cervix. The older woman said it would send her into labor. But the baby was proving stubborn. The pains had started, on and off, at sundown, and only now, when it was nearly four o’clock in the morning, were they getting serious.

  More of God’s punishment, Hope decided. She’d run away from the Brethren, refused to do what her father said was God’s will, and this was the price she had to pay.

  “Don’t push yet,” Lydia said firmly. “You’re not fully dilated, and we don’t want you to tear. Try to rest while I see what that last contraction did.”

  Hope stared at the ceiling as Lydia checked the baby’s progress. She was tired of all the poking and prodding, but she would never say so. Lydia might think her ungrateful. After being alone for most of her pregnancy, wandering aimlessly from town to town, Hope wasn’t about to do anything to anger the one person who’d taken her in. Lydia was so decisive, so strong. As much as Hope loved and admired her, she feared her a little, too. Lydia owned the birth center and had to be sixty years old. But she wasn’t a soft, sweet grandmotherly type, certainly nothing like Hope’s own patient mother. Tall and angular, with steel-gray eyes and hair, Lydia often spoke sharply, seemed to know everything in the world and had the ability to make other people—and apparently even events—bend to her will. She took command like Hope’s father, which was an amazing concept. Hope hadn’t known women could possess so much power.

  “Is everything okay?” Hope asked, weak, shaky, exhausted.

  “Everything’s fine.” As Lydia helped her to a few more ice chips, the pendant she always wore—a mother cradling an infant—swayed with her movements and caught Hope’s attention. Hope had long coveted that pendant. She craved the nurturing and love it symbolized. But she knew she’d never experience holding her own child so close. Not this child, anyway.

  After moppi
ng Hope’s forehead, Lydia went back to massaging one of her feet. Lydia claimed that pressing on certain points in the foot could ease pain—she called it reflexology—but if reflexology was helping, Hope certainly couldn’t tell. To her, its only value seemed to be in providing a slight distraction.

  “It shouldn’t be long now,” Lydia assured her, but she kept glancing at the clock as though she was late for something and as eager for the baby to be born as Hope. “I’d transfer you to the hospital if I was the least bit worried,” she continued in the same authoritative voice. “This is dragging on, I know. But the baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady and you’re progressing. First babies often take a while.”

  Lydia had once mentioned that she’d been a midwife for more than thirty years. Certainly after all that time she knew what she was talking about. But Hope was inclined to trust her regardless of her professional experience. It was men who always failed her—

  Another contraction gripped her body. Biting back a tormented moan, she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. She didn’t know how much more she could take. It felt as if someone had a knife and was stabbing her repeatedly in the abdomen.

  Except for the music playing quietly in the background, the place was quiet. Parker Reynolds, the administrator, and the other midwives and clerical people who worked at the center were long gone. They’d left before Lydia had even induced her. She and Lydia were the only ones at The Birth Place. With its scented candles, soft lighting and soothing music, the room was meant to be comfortable and welcoming, like home. But this room, with its turquoise-and-peach wallpaper, Spanish-tile floor and wooden shutters at the window, was nothing like the home Hope had known. She’d grown up sharing a bedroom with at least three siblings, oftentimes four. If there were candles it was because the electricity had been turned off for nonpayment. And the only music she’d been allowed to listen to was classical or hymns.

  “Good girl,” Lydia said as Hope fought the impulse to bear down.

  At this point Hope didn’t care if she caused herself physical damage. She felt as though the baby was ripping its way out of her, anyway. She just didn’t want to displease Lydia. The ultrasound she’d had several weeks earlier indicated she was having a girl, and Lydia had promised that her daughter would go to a good home. Hope didn’t want to give her any reason to break that promise. Mostly because Lydia had painted such an idyllic picture of her baby’s future. Her baby would have a crib, and a matching comforter and bumper pads, and a mobile hanging above her head. She’d have doting parents who would give her dance lessons, help her with her homework and send her to college. When the time was right, they’d pay for a lovely wedding. Her daughter would marry someone kind and strong, have a normal family and eventually become a grandmother. She’d wear store-bought clothes and listen to all kinds of music. She’d feel good about being a woman. Better than anything, she’d never know what she’d so narrowly escaped.

  Hope wanted sanctuary for her child. She wanted it more than anything. After her daughter arrived and started her princesslike life, it wouldn’t matter what happened to Hope.

  She would already have given the only gift she could.

  She would have saved her daughter from the Brethren.

  * * *

  “THE DEAL’S OFF,” Lydia stated flatly, entering her office cradling Hope’s new baby.

  Fear nearly choked Parker Reynolds at this announcement. He glanced briefly at his father-in-law, U.S. Congressman John Barlow, who’d been waiting with him, before letting his gaze fall on the baby they’d come to collect. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Is Hope okay?”

  “Mother and baby are both fine, but—” she split her gaze between them “—it’s a boy.”

  A boy…Parker’s heart pounded in his chest like a bass drum. A boy could change everything. “Does Hope know?”

  “I haven’t told her yet, but—”

  “Perfect!” his father-in-law interrupted. “You were worried how it would look to have Parker and Vanessa receive a newborn baby so soon after Hope gave birth. Now they won’t have to relocate, and you won’t have to hire a new administrator. There’s no chance of anyone putting two and two together.”

  Torn, Parker shoved his hands in his pockets and turned toward the window. After two miscarriages, his wife had never been able to get pregnant again. Now her health was too bad to continue trying. She was ill and miserable and so depressed she couldn’t get out of bed even on good days. She claimed that having a baby would make all the difference, that it would give her the will to survive.

  He believed it would. He believed it was his responsibility as her husband to save her somehow. But because of Vanessa’s health, there wasn’t an adoption agency anywhere that would work with them. This was his only chance….

  “The baby’s sex played a big part in her decision to give up the baby,” Lydia explained.

  “I don’t give a damn if it did,” John replied. “She can’t provide for a boy any easier than she can a girl. She’s a seventeen-year-old runaway, for crying out loud. What can she offer this child?”

  Parker felt his commitment to what they were doing waver even more. Two weeks ago, when he’d approached his father-in-law with this idea, it had all seemed so simple. Vanessa needed a baby. Hope’s baby needed a family. Lydia needed money to keep the center afloat. But it didn’t seem so simple anymore. It seemed almost surreal.

  “Hope deserves the right to make an informed decision,” he said.

  “Like hell,” John countered. “She doesn’t deserve a damn thing. From what you told me, Ms. Kane has housed her and cared for her during the last two months.”

  “I had no ulterior motives when I took her in,” Lydia said.

  “I’m not here to argue about the purity of your motives,” John replied. “Just keep the bargain. I’ve already paid you the money.”

  Lydia tightened her hold on the baby. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “When?”

  Parker knew that wasn’t an easy question to answer. For the past six months the center had been inches away from closing its doors. The money had been spent on payroll and utilities and supplies.

  “As soon as I can,” she snapped.

  “Considering that you pump every dime you have into this place, I don’t think you’re a very good credit risk,” John said. “And I don’t want the money back. I want the baby you promised us.”

  Lydia looked beaten as she gazed around the office. “This center has been my life,” she said. “It’s what I’ve fought for and loved for more than thirty years. But this time I’ve gone too far. What we’re doing goes against everything I believe in.”

  “What we’re doing?” John said. “You’ve already done it, Ms. Kane. You did it when you took my money.” He motioned impatiently with one hand. “But you’re making a bigger deal of this than it has to be. You’re not doing anything that’s going to hurt this baby’s mother. So you’ve told her you’re putting her baby up for adoption. In a way, you are. It might not be through a legitimate agency, but that doesn’t matter? You—”

  “Doesn’t matter? How can you say that?” Lydia interrupted. “What we’re doing is illegal, Congressman. You, of all people, should know that.”

  Parker’s father-in-law assumed his “political” face. “The legality of the issue isn’t the point here. The point is that this child isn’t in any danger. He’s going to a good home, and you and I both know it.”

  Lydia stared down at the baby for a long moment before lifting her gaze to meet John’s. “Your daughter is ill. As much as I hate to say it, and as much as you two might not want to face it—” here she gave Parker an apologetic glance “—there’s a chance she won’t make it. That’s why she couldn’t get a baby through the regular channels.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Parker’s father-in-law thundered, forgetting his “let’s smooth this over” act. “I know my daughter isn’t well. That’s why I’m not about to tell her she won’t be ge
tting this baby!”

  Parker was watching their reflection in the glass, sometimes trying to see beyond the pane to the wooded landscape outside. He’d been tempted to jump in at several points and voice an opinion. But he wasn’t completely sure if he agreed with John or with Lydia. He knew how badly his wife longed for a baby. He wanted to give her one. But now that the tiny infant he was supposed to take home had arrived, he was more bothered than he’d expected to be by the fact that he had no legal or blood right to claim him—more bothered than he’d expected about lying to young Hope. There was something so fragile, so innocent about the girl. Her pretty face lit up whenever she received the smallest kindness. Though part of him trusted that a baby would somehow help his wife improve, the rest of him felt lower than dirt for taking advantage of a vulnerable girl’s desperation and trust—and letting his father-in-law buy something he had no right to buy. Especially because he’d grown up living just down the street from Lydia. He’d known her most of his life; she’d recruited him just after he’d graduated from college. He hated that he’d also taken advantage of her desperation to save the clinic.

  “What difference does it make where the baby goes so long as he’s well cared for?” John asked Lydia. “If you put the baby up for adoption, there’s no guarantee he’ll go anywhere better. At least you know Parker and Vanessa will love the child and care for him as their own.”

  “It’s still selling a baby,” Lydia said, her shoulders drooping.

  “Then pay me back someday if it’ll make you feel better, but let Vanessa have her baby.”

  Pivoting away from the window, Parker finally broke his silence. He understood Lydia’s pain, felt responsible for it. But they’d come too far to turn back. “Lydia, you know I’ll give this child everything I have. And he might make all the difference to Vanessa.”