Livy didn’t question that, but announced, “I’m five.”
When Jeanne Louise merely nodded, she added earnestly, “And I am always polite to my elders, and I’m nice to everyone, and—” She paused and frowned. “Well, except Jimmy down the road, but he’s always mean to me first,” she added defensively before rushing on. “And I don’t cry much, except sometimes my head hurts real bad and I can’t help it. But I try not to, and I try not to lie either because that’s a sin, and I like flowers and puppies and . . .” Livy paused and bit her lip and then asked, “Do you think God will like me?”
Jeanne Louise stilled in the bed at the question and the worry behind it, and then slipped into the girl’s thoughts, sifting for the source of it. Her mouth tightened as she touched on the memory of a tired and cranky older woman warning this small waiflike child that she wouldn’t get to see her mom in heaven if God didn’t like her and He didn’t abide crybabies. Jeanne Louise didn’t even hesitate, but quickly eased the child’s fears, fading them in her mind even as she said, “I think He will love you, Livy.”
“Oh.” The girl smiled widely, the worry dropping away under her influence. “I hope so. Then I can see Mommy.”
Jeanne Louise hesitated, unsure how to respond to that, but finally said, “I’m sure your mommy would like that.” She then asked, “So your mother is in heaven?”
Livy nodded and moved closer to the bed. “I don’t remember her much. I was little when she went to the angels. But we have pictures. She was beautiful and she used to sing to me to make me sleep. I don’t remember that but Daddy said she did.”
Jeanne Louise nodded. “Did she have blond hair like you?”
“Yes.” The girl beamed happily. “And she had pretty blue eyes, and Daddy said I got her smile and it’s the prettiest smile in the world.”
“No doubt,” Jeanne Louise said solemnly. “You’re very pretty.”
“You’re pretty too,” Livy said kindly, and then suddenly seemed to become aware of Jeanne Louise’s state. “Why do you have all that chain on you?”
“We’re playing a game.”
Jeanne Louise glanced sharply to the man who had spoken: her captor, Paul Jones. Better known as Daddy in Livy’s mind, she read even as the girl smiled at the man.
“You’re awake,” Livy said simply.
“Yes. But you shouldn’t be out of bed,” the man said solemnly, moving to scoop up the child.
“I went to see you when I woke up, but you were snoring, so I came down to find the picture books,” Livy explained.
“I moved my office upstairs,” the father said quietly. “And you don’t need the photo albums.”
“Yes, I do, Daddy. I forget what Mommy looks like and I need to remember so I can recognize her when I get to heaven,” Livy said worriedly.
Paul flinched at the words, terror and pain stark on his face for one moment, and then determination replaced those emotions and he turned abruptly away to carry his daughter out of the room. “I will bring the albums to you after I put you back in bed.”
Jeanne Louise watched them go, her concentration on the back of Paul’s head as she tried to ignore the envy slipping through her. The bond between her kidnapper and his daughter was one she’d never gotten to enjoy with her own father. Her mother had died when she was just a baby, and circumstances had forced Armand Argeneau to place Jeanne Louise with her aunt Marguerite. It had been an effort to keep her safe, which she now understood and appreciated. But she hadn’t known to appreciate it as a child. All she’d known was that while her aunt had showered her with love and attention, and her brothers—both much older than her—had visited and treated her with caring and affection, she hadn’t had parents of her own to love her. That being the case it had been the one thing she’d most yearned for.
Pushing those thoughts away, Jeanne Louise closed her eyes and turned over what she’d learned. Livy was dying of cancer. The word had been in the child’s mind, a word she didn’t understand except that it meant sick and her head hurt. Jeanne Louise could only speculate that the child had some kind of brain cancer, a tumor or something, though whether that was the primary problem or the cancer had started elsewhere and metastasized to the brain she didn’t know. All she knew was that the girl was resigned to “going to heaven” and the father was not. From that she suspected Livy was the reason she was here. Paul Jones didn’t want her to turn him, he wanted her to turn and save his daughter.
That was just a guess. Jeanne Louise hadn’t read the thought from the father’s mind as he’d left. She hadn’t read anything. She’d tried though. She’d tried to slip into his thoughts not just to read him, but also to take control as she’d planned . . . and she hadn’t been able to. His mind was a blank wall to her.
Jeanne Louise wanted to think that it was the tranquilizer still affecting her, but she’d been able to read Livy’s mind easily enough even with possible brain cancer, which could often make doing so difficult. That being the case, she was pretty sure the drug she’d been given was no longer in her system. Which meant she simply couldn’t read Paul Jones. Which left her in one hell of a spot. And not just because she now couldn’t simply take control and make him release her. That was no longer even a concern in her mind. Not being able to read Paul meant that for her he was a possible life mate.
“Dear God,” she whispered, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling as the term reverberated through her head. A life mate. Someone she couldn’t read or control and who couldn’t read or control her. Someone she could relax around and share her long life with; an oasis of peace and passion in this mad world. It was something every immortal wanted, but it was something Jeanne Louise had desperately yearned for most of her life.
By her teen years Jeanne Louise had given up on the dream of having loving parents of her own and had turned to fantasizing about someday having a life mate and her own children to shower with all the parental love she hadn’t had growing up. She had spent countless hours imagining who her life mate might be, wondering if he would have fair hair or dark. Would he be her height or taller or even shorter? Would he be handsome and strong, science minded like her or more artistic? Would he be mortal or immortal?
And now she knew, or believed she did. If she was right, Paul was her life mate. She certainly wasn’t disappointed when it came to his looks. The fact that he was obviously interested in science like herself was encouraging too . . . But the man had kidnapped her, which really wasn’t a good way to start a courtship when you thought about it.
Jeanne Louise pushed that matter aside for other considerations. The main issue was that if she was right about his motives for taking her . . . well . . . put quite simply it would be a problem. Each immortal was allowed to turn only one in their lifetime. It was generally used for that most precious of creature, a life mate. Him. Not his daughter.
Of course, Jeanne Louise could turn him and he could then use his one turn to save his daughter. Which would still give him what he wanted. But what if she did that and Paul decided that he wasn’t willing to be her life mate? While the fact that she couldn’t read him suggested he was a possible life mate, it didn’t guarantee he would be willing to be hers.
Paul would probably agree to anything right now to save his daughter, Jeanne Louise thought, even to spending an eternity with her. But she didn’t want him that way. She had to know he truly wanted to be her life mate, and that he wasn’t just agreeing out of desperation to save Livy. For that to happen, they needed to get to know each other. She needed to be sure they suited. She needed time, but Jeanne Louise very much suspected she wouldn’t get it. Paul would put his daughter back to bed, find her the photo album, and perhaps feed her or sit with her for a bit, but eventually he would come back down here and tell her that his little Livy was dying and he needed her to save the child.
When he did that, Jeanne Louise would have to refuse, but without offering him even the hope of the alternative solution of her turning him and his turning Livy until she knew how he felt about her. Paul wouldn’t be happy, which didn’t give her much hope for her success in wooing him. He might even hate her for it. He certainly wouldn’t like her for it.
Sighing, Jeanne Louise closed her eyes again. Her desire to escape had fled. Now she was a bundle of fear and hope—hope that she’d found her life mate, and fear that she wouldn’t find a way to claim him.