“That I would.”

Zane listened to their banter but didn’t join in. Unlike Maya, he didn’t want romantic love. Not because he mistrusted it, but because he knew what it did to a person. He’d grown up with parents who loved each other to the exclusion of all else, and he’d always felt like the third item on a list of two. Love wasn’t the great gift everyone claimed. Love isolated, and sometimes it even destroyed. From what he could see, it cost too much and didn’t offer enough in return. He’d spent his whole life avoiding love, and he had no plans to change.

CHAPTER TWELVE

PHOEBE DELIGHTED IN the beauty of the morning. A light breeze teased at her hair, the sounds of the birds provided a tinkling melody for the background beat that was the hooves of the cattle. Despite her relatively sleep-free night—erotic fondling and kissing by Zane did that to her—she felt happy, energized and alive. So when Rocky meandered toward C.J. and her horse, Phoebe didn’t pull him back into line, even though C.J. wasn’t the friendliest person on the cattle drive.

The two women rode next to each other for several minutes before Phoebe thought of something to say.

“Have you and your husband taken many foster children on vacation?” she asked.

C.J., a blonde woman in her early forties, shook her head. “We’ve never done anything like this before. We wouldn’t have except the people who had agreed to bring Tommy and Lucy on the cattle drive had a death in the family and were unable to go. Rather than let the kids be disappointed, we agreed to accompany them.”

Phoebe nodded. The words sounded fine, but there was something about her tone that wasn’t right. Was C.J. here out of obligation rather than preference? The thought made her feel sad.

“I grew up in foster care,” Phoebe told the other woman. “My parents died when I was seven. There wasn’t any family, so I became a ward of the state.”

C.J. looked at her. “You were never adopted?”

Phoebe shrugged. “It wasn’t like it is now. Prospective parents had no way to meet kids like me. For the first year, I was in shock over losing my folks. If anyone came around looking, I doubt I made a very good first impression.”

C.J. nodded. “We’ve seen some children like that. Their eyes are so sad. Do you remember your family?”

“Not as much as I would like. I have a few memories, some pictures. After a while, the kids I met in the various homes became my family.”

“Did you think about getting adopted?” C.J. asked.

“Sometimes. We’d talk about it. I knew my parents were dead, but other kids I’d met had just been abandoned. They would make up stories about what it would be like when their parents realized they’d made a mistake and came to get them. Even if we said we didn’t care, we all secretly wanted to belong to a family.”

Phoebe smiled sadly at the memory. “I wanted a big house with a couple of dogs and a cat that slept on my bed at night.” She’d imagined parents, too, but they’d been vague figures, and she’d always felt guilty—as if her emotional needs made her disloyal to her dead mother and father.

“The babies were never around long,” she continued. “A few of the toddlers were adopted, too, but the older kids never had a chance. I’ve heard that these days there are parties to introduce prospective parents to available children.”

“Thad and I have been to a few of those.” C.J. pushed up her sunglasses. “They’re so awkward and difficult. The children are on their best behavior and the adults...well, I’m not sure what they’re thinking. I just know Thad and I felt strange. As if we were shopping for a child. We met Lucy and Tommy at a park party a few months ago.”

“They seem like nice kids,” Phoebe said.

C.J.’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “They have some problems.”

No one could grow up in the foster-care system without having some scars, she thought, but didn’t say anything to C.J. The other woman was smart enough to have figured that out for herself.

“We can’t have children,” C.J. explained in a rush. She stared straight ahead as she spoke. “There’s something wrong with both of us. I couldn’t believe it when I found out. If only one of us had been the problem, we could have used in vitro fertilization or a surrogate mother, or something.”

“I’m sorry.” Phoebe didn’t know what else to say. The pain of not being able to have a child—she knew what it was like to feel separate and alone. Although C.J. did have Thad.

“Once we realized we wouldn’t be having a child of our own, we went the adoption route. Two days before we were approved, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. That knocked us right off the list.” Her voice turned bitter. “Private adoption won’t work, either. No single mother wants her child raised by a woman who had cancer. So we decided to try foreign adoption.”

“What country?”

“Kazakhstan. We were supposed to get a little girl. She was about seven months old. But she got sick, and they wouldn’t let us go get her. While we waited, another couple went to get another child, who turned out to be our little girl’s brother. The agency gave them permission to take them both. Then the agency director was arrested on charges of accepting bribes. It’s been a mess.”

C.J. shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter, but Phoebe knew better. Nothing mattered more.

“Thad and I decided that we’ve had plenty of signs from the universe. We’re just not meant to have a child. We’re very happy together, and that’s going to be enough.”