The Devil's Daughter (24 page)

“Sit down,” Lucy said. “Please.” A nervous knot began to coil in her belly, warning her to get out. To run down to the creek and forget she’d ever asked her stupid question. Why should she care if this woman was afraid of her?

But something else, an unfamiliar and much stronger pull, rooted her to the spot.

Using the dish towel as a handkerchief, Berta dabbed her eyes and nose. Then finally she looked straight at Lucy. The longer she stared, the more familiar it became, and the more Lucy fought the urge to run.

It was more than just familiar. It was almost familial. No.

No.

“Lucy,” she began. “I’m. . .”

No. Lucy’s head shook of its own volition. It couldn’t be.

“I’m your mother.”

Lucy stumbled back a step, staring at this woman. . .this horrid
horrid
woman.

“I felt it the moment you appeared at the auction,” Berta continued, “but I. . .I wasn’t sure and w-was too frightened to say anything.” Tears streamed down the woman’s chubby cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them away. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

“But how--” Lucy stopped, took a deep breath, and swallowed. “What about. . .why?”

“I was weak,” Berta sobbed. Her shoulders shook with each ragged breath. “And I let Sa— your father seduce me. He promised me everything I ever wanted.”

“And what you wanted,” Lucy said, holding her own tears in check, “didn’t include me.”

“That’s not true,” Berta sniffled. She reached for Lucy’s hands, but Lucy drew back. “Please try to understand.”

“Understand?” she cried, then lowered her voice. The last thing she needed was Jed – or Maggie, for that matter – running out to hear. “How can you expect me to understand? You left me with him! Do you have any idea what that was like?”

Berta shook her head, then let her chin drop to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Anger propelled Lucy in a large circle around the fire. “Sorry?”

She paced the ground in front of Berta, clenching and unclenching her fists, wishing more than anything she could throw something.

“Yes,” Berta said between sobs. “I’m so ashamed of what I did. But he didn’t give me any choice.”

Lucy froze in the middle of her next step and glared at the woman who’d given her birth; the
human
woman. “We all have choices, Berta. You obviously made yours.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“No?” Lucy seethed. “Then what is it? Explain to me how a mother gives up her baby daughter to a life like that. If you didn’t want me, there must have been someone who did.”

Berta blew her nose into the towel and stood up to face Lucy.

“My father was a church minister,” she started. “I was afraid if he discovered my secret, I’d be condemned on the spot.”

“Oh, I see,” Lucy said, wringing her hands to keep them from wringing Berta’s neck. “You didn’t want to spend eternity in Hell, but it was all right to send your child there.”

“No,” she cried, wiping her nose again. “It wasn’t me.”

Lucy waited for Berta to continue.

“Pregnancy isn’t something a woman can hide for too long,” she said. “When my father learned of my condition, he beat the truth out of me.”

For a second, Lucy almost felt for the woman. Almost.

“He threatened to kill me and my child for shaming him so badly.” She sniffed again. “That’s when your father came back.”

Lucy’s patience teetered on snapping. “And what did he do?”

Berta took a breath. “He told my father if he let us live, he’d take the child and Father would never have to see it.”

“Or?”

“Or Father would condemn himself to Hell for murdering me and my child.”

“Choices,” Lucy muttered. “Always choices.”

“Yes,” Berta nodded, wiped her eyes, and continued. “I was sent to live with my aunt until. . .”

“Until you handed me over.”

Tears fell in a steady stream from Berta’s eyes. “You were six months old when he took you from me. I loved you more than you can ever imagine, Lucy.”

“Just not enough to keep me.”

“I tried.”

Lucy snorted.

“No, I did,” Berta hurried on. “I ran away from my aunt’s house after you were born. I thought if I could get far enough away from there, he wouldn’t be able to find me.”

“Did you honestly think you could hide from him?” Even as the words spilled from her lips, Lucy wanted to take them back. How many times had she tried to hide, knowing full well it was impossible?

“I was fifteen.” Berta nodded and sniffed. “You can’t imagine how awful it was.”

“Yes, I can.” Lucy stared at this woman who claimed to be her mother. “You never came back for me.”

“I was so scared.” Berta’s voice trembled, her heard shook slowly. “I had no one left to help me. No way of knowing how to get to you.”

Lucy narrowed her glare at the woman. Her mother. There was only one way to retrieve a soul from Hell, and no human had that kind of strength.

“Why didn’t you say something at the auction?”

Berta blew a long breath and slumped back on the boulder again. “All this time I didn’t dare hope to see you again until I was dead. And then suddenly you were there, standing in front of me, looking more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

Berta’s smile sparkled in her eyes, even as more tears poured out. There was something in that smile - but what? A spark ignited in the woman’s soul and began to push the darkness away.

“Right then, I knew I had to do something to protect you. Something to keep you safe and away from him.”

“Is that why you pushed Jed into marrying me?”

“You seemed set on having him.” Guilt and shame crowded Berta’s features, but her voice was firm and determined. “I didn’t have time to think of anything else, Lucy. All I knew was that of all the men there, you wanted him.”

When Lucy didn’t answer, Berta shrugged slightly. “Jed’s a good man. I knew if anyone could keep you safe, it’d be him. Those other men only wanted you for. . .well, you know what I mean.”

Oh yes, Lucy knew exactly what Berta meant. They’d all wanted her for one thing, just as she’d wanted Jed for one thing.

They fell silent for a moment. If Berta knew who Lucy was, did she know why she’d come to Redemption? Lucy had to be sure her mother wasn’t lying – or worse, in cahoots with Deacon.

She lifted the stew off the fire and set it on the ground next to the pit. If they dared let it burn, Jed would surely suspect something was up. According to him, Berta never burned anything.

“Do you know why I’m here?” she asked quietly with a furtive glance toward the barn, then the house.

Berta hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I think so.”

The nervous knot that had started in Lucy’s stomach tightened until she could no longer breathe. Berta knew. And Berta was human. Humans were cursed with consciences. If she let her conscience get the better of her, there was no telling what she’d do.

She might even tell Jed what Lucy was doing.

“You’re after his soul, aren’t you?”

Any hope Lucy had of her plan working began to slip away.

“And Maggie’s?” Berta’s tears flowed again. “The baby’s?”

“What if I am?”

A long moment passed before Berta spoke, and when she did, it was little more than a guilty whisper.

“I want to help you.”

“Help me?” Lucy’s laughter was anything but funny. “You just stood there and told me what a good man he is.”

She hesitated, tried to swallow against her parched mouth, then lowered her voice even more. “You know he’ll go straight to Hell once I’ve taken his soul.”

Berta nodded slowly and wiped her eyes.

“And Maggie.”

Another nod.

“And. . .the baby.”

Her nod was shorter, briefer, and followed by a choking sob. “You are my only concern.”

“Me?” Lucy scoffed. “You gave up your right to be concerned for me when you abandoned me. You left me to be raised in a place so awful, no mortal can even begin to imagine.” She fought back the knot in her throat. “Why would I believe you’re suddenly concerned about me after all these years?”

The woman’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Lucy. I begged him not to take you. I offered to go in your place, but he didn’t want me. He only wanted you.” She paused, took a breath. “I was so scared. And it seemed the more frightened I became, the stronger he was.”

The backs of Lucy’s eyes prickled slightly, but she blinked it away. That was how her father worked; he preyed on human fears and hatred.

“I begged God and any saint I thought might listen to bring you back,” Berta said. “No one did.”

“You should have tried harder.” Lucy would not feel anything for this woman. She
wouldn’t
. “I was your child.”

“Yes,” Berta sobbed. “You were. You
are
. And there’s nothing I can do now to change what I did. Saying I’m sorry won’t make anything better.”

“You’re right.” Lucy stiffened. “It won’t.”

Berta took a moment to compose herself before she spoke. Once she did, her words came out over hiccupped sobs and sniffles.

“I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but if I can help keep you from going back, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Jed came around the corner of the barn with a long board balanced on his shoulder. Berta scurried back to the table and busied herself with the bowl of batter she’d abandoned. When Jed raised his brow in question, Lucy simply shrugged and pretended to check the cooling pot of stew.

“Should be ready in just a while,” she called out, surprised at the calmness in her voice.

He grinned, set the board against the north wall of the barn and headed back where he came from.

Berta waited another moment, paused near the door of the house, listened, then headed back to the fire.

“If you want out,” she whispered, “you need a baby’s soul. Am I right?”

Lucy nodded hesitantly. Could she really trust this woman?

Berta’s face scrunched. “Let me help you.”

There was no mistaking the pain in the woman’s voice. And though Lucy would have willingly handed her over to Satan right then and there, something pulled at her.

“Berta.” She took a small step closer, then stopped. She did not want this woman to touch her. “Do you have any idea what that would mean for you?”

“I won’t lose you again.”

For a moment, Lucy thought Berta might be sick, but the woman struggled through a few long choking breaths, then continued. “I’m going to Hell anyway,” she sniveled. “There’s nothing I can do about that. But I won’t let it happen to you again. Not if there’s anything I can do to prevent it.”

Lucy chewed her lip raw. Her mother, of all people, wanted to help her, and was willing to do anything it took.

Before she could move away, Berta grabbed her hands and squeezed them tight.

“Jedidiah Caine is the last person on earth who deserves Hell, but if he has to be sacrificed to save my own child, then so be it.”

Lucy fought through the fog in her brain. None of this made sense. This had to be Deacon’s doing.

Jed came around the barn with another piece of lumber, smiled brightly at Lucy, and disappeared again. Had she smiled back? And what would he think if he saw Berta holding her hands?

“Lucy.” Berta’s gentle tug pulled her back to their conversation. “You’re half human.”

Human.

A glint of hope shone in her mother’s eyes. Hope for what? All her life, she’d believed her mother was just another dark soul her father had claimed. Never had she suspected her mother was human!

It certainly explained why Lucy was weaker than Deacon, but that’s all it explained. Berta’s smile brightened.

“You have the capacity to love. And you have the capacity to
be
loved.”

“No.” She shook her head, even as the truth of Berta’s words ripped through her heart.

“Yes.” Berta’s fingers tightened around Lucy’s. “Your husband is crazy in love with you already. And I’d wager you feel the same way for him.”

“What?” Lucy gasped. “Have you lost your mind? How can you even suggest such a thing?”

“Deny it all you like, Lucy, but it’s there. And it could save you.”

Poor Berta. Like all humans, she held on to the slightest glimmer of hope any time it presented itself.

“No, Berta. It can’t.” She pulled out of her mother’s grasp and stepped back. “It doesn’t matter if I l. . . feel anything for him or not, the fact is simple. Once he learns the truth – and he will learn the truth eventually – he’ll despise me.”

“No,” Berta protested. “He can’t hate you – he loves you!”

Lucy didn’t answer. Sure, Jed might think he loved her, he might even want to say it out loud, but no human loved enough to take on the devil.