The Prodigal Wife. Susan Fox P.

him and done spite to the marriage that had been forced on her.

      Until her mother had died and she’d read the truth in the ream of papers and documents Sondra had hidden away from her and lied about. Everything Lainey had done, every cold act, had been based on lies and pain and more lies. Because of what her mother had engineered, Lainey had not only dishonored her husband and her marriage, she’d also dishonored the memory of the loving father who’d tried to protect her from her mother’s greed, then had suddenly died before he could explain his reasons.

      Now the stench of dishonor was slowly poisoning her soul. For weeks she’d been traumatized by the truth, and every moment of those weeks, sharp guilt had eaten at her and sickening questions had pounded her heart.

      Was there a way to make up these past five years to Gabriel Patton? Was there anything she could do to somehow atone for the things she’d done to him—and his pride—in a way that might at least mollify him and give him some sort of satisfaction? It was too much to expect that he could forgive her. She’d come to that heart-crushing conclusion when she’d read the truth and realized the magnitude of her hatefulness.

      If he paid her back even a smidgen of what she’d done to him, it would be the much deserved and overdue justice that was owed to a wronged man.

      He’d endured her venom for years without a hint of retaliation, so he deserved to hear her admit to his face what she should have known all along: that he was an honorable man of character who was far too good for her, not the come-from-nothing lowlife she’d believed he was.

      As terrified as she was to see him again and endure whatever awful things he’d say to her now, it was only right that she take whatever he was willing to dish out and do it without complaint.

      Every air mile between Chicago and Patton Ranch had been a small eternity, surpassed only by the endless miles she’d driven from San Antonio in a rented car. Her crisply ruffled white blouse and khaki slacks were not exactly sackcloth, but she fretted over the selection. Had styling her long, dark hair in a chic upsweep made her look too aloof and citified? Should she have worn jeans and a simple cotton blouse, or should she have dressed even more like a spoiled princess who deserved to be mocked and chastised?

      As long as the trip had seemed to take, the main house appeared suddenly over the last shallow rise of ranch road. Lainey’s heart surged into her throat and thumped fast and hard. She felt perspiration dot her face as another wave of guilt and terror washed painfully through her.

      The large single-story adobe ranch house had a new addition on the east, and the gleaming rows of the new red tile roof gave the white-painted adobe below a pristine glow. The deep, shady veranda stretched along the entire front of the house, and each arch that curved over its outer edge was decorated with hanging pots of trailing flowers that favored deep blues and rich purples with touches of more red.

      The luster of fresh red paint on the huge double front doors hinted that they could be either the gates of a threatening hell or the redemptive color of a joyous heaven. Lainey was well aware of which one she’d forfeited and which one she deserved.

      Shame sent a hot flush to her face as she got out of the rental car, took out her handbag and leather briefcase, then made herself start up the front walk. The briefcase was heavy, perhaps because the papers and documents inside that vindicated Gabe were also an indictment of her stupidity.

      The documents her mother had forged were also in the case, and she felt another twist of her insides at the thought that however evil it had been of her mother to perpetrate them on her, showing them to Gabe now would be as self-serving as it was disloyal to her mother.

      Her feelings about her mother were still in turmoil. Was she being disloyal or was Sondra even worthy of loyalty after what she’d done?

      But on the issue of selfishness, Lainey knew she was guilty. She still had the wild, impossible hope that when she showed the papers and forgeries to Gabe, he would understand, have mercy on her, and forgive her for the way she’d treated him.

      She didn’t know what would happen after that. Probably divorce. There could be no reason that Gabe would want her after she’d been such a horror as a wife.

      Then again, he might never see the papers. If he decided to pay her back in kind, he’d give her no opportunity to explain her actions. He’d probably throw her—and her briefcase of papers—out of his house and chase her off Patton Ranch. If that happened, she’d begin divorce proceedings next month. No sense being a millstone around his neck any longer.

      Nausea began the slow, sickening climb into her chest as she reached the red doors and put out her free hand to push the doorbell. As if the housekeeper had seen her drive up and had been waiting for her to ring, the big red door on the right was pulled open.

      Lainey didn’t recognize the Hispanic woman, but bid her a quiet, “Buenos dias, señora. Lainey Talbot to see Señor Patton.”

      No doubt the woman would know her name whether she recognized Lainey or not. And sure enough, a faint light of suspicion and disapproval showed in the woman’s dark eyes, though her reserved smile was polite.

      “Buenos dias. Señor Gabe is out with the men today. Perhaps you could come back at evening.”

      “Is there any way I can go out wherever he is to speak to him?” Lainey asked hastily, suddenly worried that this might be her sole opportunity to see Gabe. She’d purposely not let him know ahead of time that she was coming. It was a sneaky thing to do, but she’d been afraid she’d never get near him otherwise.

      Her only option then would be to get her lawyer to contact his lawyer. And again, Gabe had tried that periodically with her, but her instructions to her attorney had been another hateful rebuff.

      To her surprise and relief, the woman seemed to make a decision about her, though it was clear she was hesitant about it.

      “I can try to contact him for you.”

      Relief gave Lainey a fraction of hope. “That would be very kind. I can wait out here.”

      Lainey had added that last to somehow communicate to the woman that she understood the predicament her request had put her in. Gabriel Patton’s employees were loyal to him, and it would be unfair to put a strain on that.

      She’d also meant the offer to wait outside the house as a semi-public acknowledgment that she had no right to cross the threshold into Gabe’s private domain. A wife like her didn’t deserve that kind of access.

      The woman nodded and stepped back, making a polite smile again before slowly closing the door.

      The nausea climbed a bit higher, and Lainey turned miserably to stare at the land. It was so abominably hot, but then it was just past two p.m., and this was June in Texas. Her body had become too accustomed to her air-conditioned life in Chicago.

      Nevertheless, the sight of pastureland between the house and the highway nearly two miles distant was a visual comfort. It was also the only comfort she’d felt in weeks now, and she began to feel faintly shocked that she could have walked away from ranch life and endured the cement-surrounded life of the city for so long.

      Oh, God, if I could come back to this…

      The door behind her opened again and she turned back, trying not to reveal the pitiful hope she had. The housekeeper’s face showed little more than her polite smile and that same touch of wary disapproval.

      “Señor Gabe is bringing horses to the pens now. He says you may meet him there or not, but he is too busy to come to you.”

      Lainey tried to find some encouragement in that. If Gabe was allowing her to come that close to him, surely it was a good sign, though it was apparently all he was willing to do. The only time she’d allowed him a chance to be anywhere in her vicinity had been six months ago at the funeral. Perhaps this was a turn-about-is-fair-play sort of thing. She’d only been barely civil to him that one time, so maybe this would be the only time he’d be barely civil to her.

      “Thank you, señora,” she said, then turned