by Aaron Lazar
He dropped back into the chair, stretching out his long legs and clasping his fingers over his stomach. A long, soft sigh escaped his lips. “It’s okay. You take your time.”
She tore her eyes away from his and leaned over to take a sip of soup, swallowing several mouthfuls greedily now that it was cooler, then ate four more crackers and drained the water glass.
“Is it okay? You want more?”
She looked at him with weary eyes. “No. I’m good, thanks.” She pushed the tray back. “Who just called?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “My brother. Dad’s prize cow just had her baby. Looks like it’s gonna be a nice one.”
She relaxed. Not the police. Not him. “Did you tell your brother about me?”
“Not yet. I thought you might need a bit of time before the whole village descends on you. Figured I ought to get your permission first.”
Grateful, she smiled, for the first time. “Thank you.”
As if called to duty, he suddenly stood. “I need to tell your father. What do you want me to tell him?”
“I’ll call him,” she said, pushing back the dishes. But as much as she tried to sit up straighter and before she could ask for her father’s hotel number, against her best efforts to keep her eyes open, she felt herself being drawn into sleep. Within five minutes, she’d succumbed.
Chapter 3
Boone watched her sleep for half an hour. She seemed exhausted, completely wrung out. And she’d been hungry. Starving, really.
Why?
Where had she been? And where’d she get that old wreck of a truck with Wisconsin plates that she parked behind the barn? If she escaped from a kidnapper, wouldn’t she have gone to the cops?
If not, why not?
If she did, they should’ve arranged transport home. Right? Or at least to a hospital? Why hadn’t they fed her?
And where the hell did she come across that little scruffy dog?
Maybe he was all wet. Maybe Portia had just left home for some unfathomable reason. Maybe she’d been living on the road, hand-to-mouth, never enough to eat.
He’d have to ask her again about the details, when she seemed calmer, when that scared, panicked look faded from her eyes. And maybe she’d tell it all to her folks. Why had he expected her to open up to him, anyway?
Meanwhile, he needed to call the Lamonts. He leaned over to pet Boomer and Cupcake, checking to see that they still had water in the big stainless steel bowl he’d set in the corner. Earlier, Cupcake had drunk her fill, then settled on the bed beside Portia, as if she knew she were home.
He slipped out the door, pulling it closed. Downstairs, he dialed Dirk’s number.
The phone rang once and Dirk’s no-nonsense voice answered. “Lamont here.”
“Dirk? It’s Boone.”
“Boone.” He hesitated. “I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t call last week. It’s been crazy here.”
“No problem. Listen,” Boone said. “I have something important to tell you. Are you sitting down?”
He could almost feel Dirk stiffen. “What is it? Are the horses okay?”
“It’s Portia, Dirk.” He shifted the cell to his other ear and looked up the stairs, as if she might wake up. “She’s home.”
Dirk’s phone must have clattered to the floor. Boone heard him cry out, then the sound of him scrambling to get it back to his ear.
“Boone? Oh my God. Is she okay?”
Boone tried to sound calm. “She’s alive. But she’s skin and bones and totally exhausted. She hasn’t told me much yet.” He glanced up the stairs again. “She wants to see you both. And I had to tell her why you were gone. I’m sorry.”
Dirk expelled a long breath, and he choked out the words. “I can’t believe it. She’s really home? Did she tell you what happened?”
“No. She hasn’t said much about it, like I said. Seems pretty messed up to me. You know, like whatever happened to her was bad, really bad.” He paused, waiting for Dirk, but the man didn’t say anything for a few beats. “You want me to get her on a plane down there when she’s fit to travel?”
Dirk finally answered. “No. I’m bringing Daisy home tomorrow. She’s on this new medicine, and so far, she’s holding her own.”
“Whoa. Excellent news,” Boone said. “Glad to hear it. And you three need to be together.”
“Can I speak with her?”
“She just fell asleep. Want me to wake her?”
“No, let her rest. I’m going back up to the room to tell Daisy. She’s gonna go ballistic. It’ll be all I can do to keep her in bed ’til tomorrow.”
They hung up and Boone headed for the door. There were chores to be done. His father and brother could manage the dairy farm while he helped out at Bittersweet Hollow, and the Lamont horses needed their stalls cleaned. Straightening his shoulders, he headed outside.
∞∞∞
Dirk flew up the hospital stairs two at a time, his heart hammering beneath his ribs. He burst into his wife’s hospital room, bending over to catch his breath. “Daisy, I…”
Daisy sat on the edge of the bed, disconnected for the first time in months from multiple IV lines. Tomorrow’s hospital release looked like it might actually happen.
Her eyes danced with worry. “Dirk?” She stiffened, turning toward him. “Honey? What is it?”
Dirk caught his breath and went to her side, taking her hands in his. “Baby, listen. It’s gonna be a shock.”
She huffed. “Don’t torture me. Just spit it out.”
“Sorry.” He straightened and locked eyes with her. “It’s Portia. She’s home.”
There wasn’t much color in her cheeks to start with, but now she drained to pale gray. “What? Portia?”
“She’s alive, honey. And she’s home. Boone just called.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, flooding her cheeks. “Oh my God. My baby. She’s alive?” She jumped up, wobbly and weak, flinging herself onto him. “I knew she would come home!”
“I know,” he said, distantly aware that his own cheeks were soaked and his shoulders shook as they held each other.
After a few minutes, they pulled themselves together, and the questions tumbled one after the other. Dirk tried to answer her rapid-fire inquiries, but realized he knew very little. “She didn’t tell Boone much. Guess she was exhausted, fell asleep right away. But we’ll call her later, okay?”
“Call her?” Daisy snorted. “Sure we will. But we’re going home. Now.”
Pride welled within him. He knew she’d react this way. Hell, he’d felt the same, wanted to rent a car and drive right up there, cancel all previous arrangements. But he tried to stay calm. “You know our flight’s arranged for morning, right? And the hospital plans to discharge you at ten o’clock?”
“We’re leaving, I don’t care who we have to kiss to get out of here today. Change the flight. I don’t care what it costs. I want to see her. Tonight.”
Dirk straightened, knowing it would be tough to get Daisy released from the hospital, collect all the experimental meds, and arrange flights within the next few hours. But he would do it, for Portia. She needed them. And they needed her. His mind raced with thoughts of seeing his daughter again. Alive.
Alive!
He hadn’t realized how deep the fear had penetrated, how low his hopes had fallen. He kept thinking that she would certainly have contacted them if she were alive. Wouldn’t she? The idea had taken hold too deeply, entrenched in his subconscious. He realized with a start he’d almost lost all hope before this call. Almost.
“I’ll do my best,” he said, grinning and kissing her wet cheeks. “You call Grace while I work on it, okay?”
The sisters had fought like she-cats growing up, but when Portia disappeared, Grace went through hell. He thought that her sister’s reappearance and her mother’s sudden improvement with the new experimental meds just might be enough to bring her out of her depression.
With resolve, he collared Daisy’s oncologist, Dr. Kareem, in the hal
lway, and began to beg. Come hell or high water, he would bring Daisy home as soon as humanly possible.
Chapter 4
Portia woke on her side with Boomer pressed behind her legs and Cupcake snuggled in her arms. She made a purring sound, yawned, and stretched.
Nobody stood over the bed, leering at her. Her legs were free from bonds.
She rubbed her tender ankles absentmindedly, although the sores had started to heal two days ago, when she’d broken free, when she’d left him, unmoving on the cabin porch.
The sun had just dropped behind the Green Mountains, and she wondered what time it was. Her stomach rolled with hunger.
A distant whinny thrilled her, filling her with an urgent desire to race out to the barn, throw her arms around Mirage’s neck, and head to the hills for a ride. But the weakness running through her arms and legs was palpable; she felt shaky, exhausted. She realized it was a miracle she’d even made it home in one piece.
She needed to forget. Really forget. But it was hard to push him away, the memories bubbled beneath the surface of her consciousness, always nudging, always threatening to burst free and paralyze her.
She shook her head.
Don’t think about him.
The kitchen door downstairs opened and closed. Water ran in the sink and she heard the clinking of a teakettle being filled and set on the stove.
Portia sat up in bed, her head swimming.
How had she even made it here? Sheer willpower? Probably the two cups of coffee and burger she’d had before she headed for the road.
She felt debilitated, damaged. Needy.
I want my parents.
My parents.
My mom.
My mother has cancer.
A wave of fear and worry burbled into her throat, and a raw sob escaped her just as Boone stuck his head in the doorway.
She tried to bite back the cry, but it didn’t work, spewing forth in a harsh wave.
Boone hurried to her side, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he sat on the chair he pulled up to the bed, one hand on the bedspread beside her—near—but not touching her hand.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” she said, wailing. “It just hit me. My mom…has cancer?” Guilt slid through her. She should have escaped sooner. She should have—
“Portia, listen. She’s coming home tonight. They’re on a plane. Your dad called an hour ago. They’re coming home.”
He reached out to pat her hand, but she shrank back from him.
He tried again, his voice even gentler now. “Your folks are coming home, Peaches. Home. And your mom’s doing better. The new meds are helping.”
Peaches? Why is this stranger using my childhood nickname?
She sat and rocked, heart pounding, trying to figure it out.
Stop it!
It’s just Boone, all grown up. No need to be scared.
But she couldn’t push the raw fear from her chest, or open her arms for the hug she needed so desperately. She shifted back against the pillows and tried to force a smile, stuttering her words. “She’s…she’s coming home?”
“They’re on their way now.” With a sigh of relief, the big man hoisted himself to his feet and grinned, standing over her. “Well, then. Things are looking up, right?”
Inside, she trembled. His shadow fell over her, and this presence, this monstrous big form near her made her want to scream.
She could scream now.
Yes.
Her mouth was free.
She let it out.
∞∞∞
Boone watched the girl shy away from him, like a skittish filly, unused to human hands stroking her fur. Her eyes had grown wide, as if he’d pointed his rifle at her and threatened to shoot. But he’d just delivered good news. Great news. Daisy’s getting better, and—
When she opened her mouth and let out the scream, his jaw dropped.
“Portia. It’s okay. It’s just me, Boone.”
The sound pierced his soul, sounding almost feral, like a coyote in pain. But this poor young woman who lay before him was quite human.
She pulled back again and buried her head under the covers, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Listen, Peaches.” He stepped back. “I’m not going to hurt you. Please. Don’t be afraid. It’s just me. Your riding buddy. Remember?”
The weeping slowed a bit.
“Remember when we used to ride up to the gully? When Monty threw you and I had to bind your ankle with my shirt? Remember that?”
She slowed. Sniffled. And peeked out of the covers. “Boone?” The name came out in a child’s voice. Uncertain. Shy. Soft.
“Yes, hon. It’s me. Now don’t you worry. We’re gonna take good care of you. Doc’s on the way. He just had to close his clinic and finish up. Should be here soon to take a look at you. That okay with you?”
Fear stamped her face, but she seemed to pull together and gave a quick nod, answering in a small voice. “I guess so.”
∞∞∞
Bittersweet Hollow Series: Amazon Link.
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Devil’s Lake
Bittersweet Hollow, book 1
Two years ago, Portia Lamont disappeared from a small town in Vermont, devastating her parents and sister, who spent every waking hour searching for her. When she suddenly shows up on their horse farm in a stolen truck with a little mutt on her lap, they want to know what happened. Was she taken? Or did she run away?
2015 Finalist Readers’ Favorites Awards
2015 Semi-finalist in Kindle Book Review Awards
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Acknowledgements
Thank you from the bottom of my heart to my wonderful editors and beta readers (in alphabetical order, because they are all special).
Sheila Deeth, Alice Grimes, Lorraine Lanier, Sonia R. Martinez, Joan Miller, Joan Pavlick, Gabriela Scholter, Jan Smith, Marlene Wass and Joan Young.
Aaron Paul Lazar
About the Author
Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. A multi award-winning author of three mystery series, romantic suspense novels, love stories, and writing guides. Aaron enjoys the Genesee Valley countryside in upstate New York, where his characters embrace life, play with their dogs and grandkids, grow sumptuous gardens, and chase bad guys. Visit his website at http://www.lazarbooks.com and sign up for the newsletter to discover new deals and releases.
You may contact him at [email protected].
Books by multi-award winning author Aaron Lazar
LEGARDE MYSTERIES
1. DOUBLE FORTÉ
2. UPSTAGED
3. MAZURKA
4. FIRESONG
5. TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON
6. DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU
7. THE LIAR’S GALLERY
8. SPIRIT ME AWAY
9. UNDER THE ICE
10. LADY BLUES
11. VOODOO SUMMER
THE LEGARDE MYSTERIES OMNIBUS
The above is the order the books were written. If you’d like to read them in order of Gus’s age, here is the list:
LEGARDE MYSTERIES – in order of chronology
TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON
DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU
VOODOO SUMMER
SPIRIT ME AWAY
DOUBLE FORTÉ
UPSTAGED
MAZURKA
FIRESONG
THE LIAR’S GALLERY
UNDER THE ICE
LADY BLUES
GREEN MARBLE MYSTERIES
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BILLY MOORE (formerly Healey’s Cave)
TERROR COMES KNOCKING
FOR KEEPS
TALL PINES MYSTERIES
FOR THE BIRDS
&nb
sp; ESSENTIALLY YOURS
SANCTUARY
BETRAYAL
PAINES CREEK BEACH, love stories
THE SEACREST
THE SEACROFT
THE SEADOG
BITTERSWEET HOLLOW, romantic suspense
DEVIL’S LAKE
DEVIL’S CREEK
DEVIL’S SPRING
WRITING GUIDES
WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volume 1
WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volume 2
WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volume 3
Aaron Lazar’s Book Awards
The Seadog
2016 Winner, Best Indie Book Award, Romance
Devil’s Lake
2015 Finalist Readers’ Favorites Awards
2015 Semi-finalist in Kindle Book Review Awards
The Seacrest
2015 Semi-finalist in Kindle Book Review Awards
2014 Best Beach Book Festival WINNER, Romance category
2013 ForeWord Book Awards, Romance, FINALIST
Double Forté
2012 ForeWord BOTYA, Mystery, FINALIST
Tremolo: cry of the loon –
2013 Eric Hoffer Book Awards: Grand Prize Short List
2013 Eric Hoffer Book Awards: Honorable Mention, Eric Hoffer Legacy Fiction
2011 Global eBook Award Finalist in Historical Fiction Contemporary
2011 Preditors & Editors Readers Choice Award – 2nd place Mystery
2008 Yolanda Renée's Top Ten Books
2008 MYSHELF Top Ten Reads
For the Birds
2011 ForeWord Book Awards, FINALIST in Mystery
2012 Carolyn Howard-Johnson's Top 10 Reads
Essentially Yours
2013 EPIC Book Awards, FINALIST in Suspense
2013 Eric Hoffer Da Vinci Eye Award Finalist
Healey’s Cave
2012 EPIC Book Awards WINNER Best Paranormal
2011 Eric Hoffer Book Award, WINNER Best Book in Commercial Fiction
2011 Finalist for Allbooks Review Editor's Choice
2011 Winner of Carolyn Howard Johnson's 9th Annual Noble (not Noble!) Prize for Literature
2011 Finalists for Global EBook Awards