NECESSARY MEASURES

by Alexander, Hannah

  “Better duck,” Beau said.

  Archer grinned at him and stepped into the corridor to look for Jessica. He found her standing at the end of Evan’s exam bed. Not a good place to be when the boy’s mother bulldozed into the room.

  The secretary pressed the automatic unlock for the door to allow the visitors access to the emergency department proper. Lucy’s stress-bright gaze scanned the workstation with cool intensity as she entered, still at least three feet ahead of her husband. The gaze dragged and stopped when she saw Archer. Her eyes narrowed.

  Lucy Tygart was reputed to be an attractive woman when trying to be pleasant. Archer had never experienced that particular quirk in her personality. She could be downright ugly when the mood hit. He knew ugly. Time to introduce her to Jessica before they encountered one another at Evan’s bedside. Jessica didn’t have a clue what she was getting into.

  Archer stepped forward at an angle for an intercept, reminding himself, as he had done before, that Evan’s mother was a confused woman. And angry. She’d made Norville a target of that anger for too many years. Norville and Evan were still coming to grips with the damage. Not that they were total innocents in battle.

  “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Tygart,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you.” Like a fly waiting for a swatter.

  Her husband joined his wife and smiled. “Are you the doctor?”

  Lucy gave her husband a look of tired amusement. “He’s a reverend.” She pronounced the word the way Jessica would pronounce stinkbug.

  Her husband reacted like a well-raised churchgoer and held his hand out. “Call me Stan.”

  Nice surprise. Archer shook his hand. “Archer Pierce.” The man had a heavy forehead and a firm jawline. He also had a firm grip. Perhaps his appearance had something to do with why Evan called his stepfather “Ug.”

  “Do you know if Evan’s still here?” Stan asked.

  Before Archer could reply he caught sight of Jessica on her way toward them and gearing up with her sweetest smile. Archer tried to catch her attention but she wasn’t looking at him.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Tygart?” She held out her hand. “I’m Jessica Lane. I’ve been visiting with Evan for the past few minutes.”

  “Jessica.” Lucy gave a start. Her mouth formed a sudden surprised OH and her eyes widened. “You’re Jessica Lane.”

  “Yes, please call me Jess or Jessica, anything will do. May I call you Lucy?”

  An expression of pure joy transformed Lucy’s face. “Of course,” she whispered. She looked down at Jessica’s outstretched hand and reached for it as if she were caught in a dream. “I love your music. Stan’s taken me to two of your shows this year and I have a DVD. ‘Daddy’s Story Time’ is my favorite.” She released Jessica’s hand as if she suddenly realized where she was.

  Jessica chuckled softly. “Thank you. That’s my favorite song too. Why don’t we go see Evan?”

  Archer watched as the two women preceded Stan down the hallway, talking like old friends. The door to Evan’s room swung shut behind them and Archer continued standing there. His nerve endings twanged with some unnamed surge of emotion that he couldn’t quite identify.

  He should be feeling joy, even pride and admiration, that the woman he loved had revealed yet another God-given talent to the list of qualities that made her so special. In spite of her misgivings, Jessica had always been gracious about fitting into every social situation the church threw at her.

  Another emotion he expected to feel about this situation was relief that she had been able to tame Lucy’s tongue before it turned to acid. To his mortification, Archer realized as he analyzed his own heart that the emotion that caught him in its grip wasn’t a positive one at all. It wasn’t exactly jealousy. It wasn’t exactly wounded pride. It was a mixture of those two nasty emotions with a third less frightening one: disappointment.

  He’d had no chance to leap to the rescue of his helpless bride-to-be. He’d had no chance to prove yet again the power of his love for her. Instead he’d been left behind feeling—as he’d felt the first time he came to counsel others in this emergency department—as if his presence here was superfluous. He stared at the closed exam room door and listened to the activity around him. Time to get accustomed to having Jessica in his life for the rest of his life.

  ***

  Beau kept his voice low as he finished telling Sergeant Dalton about the harrowing experiences of the day. Evan had already been interviewed and it was obvious Kent Eckard would cease to be a problem, at least on the school grounds.

  Tony switched off his handheld tape recorder, staring with sightless eyes in Beau’s direction. “You think the attack on Evan and the accident downtown were connected.”

  “I don’t think what happened downtown was an accident. That truck charged right at us. Kent’s attack and the truck attack were connected. I just know it.”

  The dark muscular sergeant nodded. “You could be right.”

  “If you tell Dad he’ll worry.”

  “That’s his job.”

  “But there’s nothing he can do about it.”

  Tony leaned forward in the straight-backed chair. His heavy-browed eyes seemed to focus on Beau’s with uncanny accuracy. “I won’t make promises.”

  “If you can keep him from worrying more than he already is—”

  “I think you underestimate your father.”

  “I know my father. He’s been through too much already. Besides, isn’t this drug related?” Beau asked. “That’s why you’re here. You’re the expert on that, not Dad.”

  Tony shoved his recorder into his front shirt pocket, stood up, reached for his cane with practiced accuracy. “I’m also here to question some witnesses about a case your dad had earlier.” He pushed his chair beneath the table and turned to feel for the doorknob. His fingers found it with ease. “Keep in touch, Beau. And would you keep an eye out for Evan Webster? He’s a bright kid but he seems to be making some enemies.”

  “Sure sounds that way.” Evan probably wasn’t the safest friend to have but people didn’t always pick their friends, they just kind of got put together as if some bigger hand guided them.

  Tony said good-bye and stepped into the hall where his wife waited to drive him back to his home office.

  Across the hallway, Stan and Lucy Tygart came out of Evan’s exam room with Jessica Lane. Mrs. Tygart was all smiles. Beau had never seen that before but he’d never seen her in the presence of one of Branson’s biggest celebrities. Jessica handled the star-worship with kindness. Beau would have chafed at that much attention. Jessica took it in stride.

  Brooke skittered from her exam room down the hallway to Evan’s room. Beau glanced around and followed. Mrs. Tygart had been in Evan’s room a little too long for him to escape unscathed.

  “Well? How’d it go?” Brooke was asking as Beau walked in. “Was she mad?”

  “Apparently not at me.” Evan reached up and fingered the short spikes of hair around his wound. “Does this look stupid?”

  Brooke gently slapped his hand away. “I think you should cut all your hair that short. Leave it alone or you’ll get it infected. What did your mom say?”

  Evan gave a pleased grin at Brooke’s attention. “She was worried. She wants to call an attorney and see if Kent can be sued. She didn’t get too hyper, though, because Jessica wouldn’t leave the room.”

  “Maybe marriage agrees with her.”

  “Maybe.” Evan frowned then sighed. “Ug might be okay after all.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Brooke said.

  “Couldn’t you call him Stan?” Beau asked.

  “Hmm. Stan.” He tested the name on his tongue. “My stepdad Stan. You know he was on that business trip last week on my birthday?” Evan held up his arm from which jutted a clunky wristwatch that gleamed like gunmetal. “He gave me this today. Can you believe it? He ordered it from the airline magazine. Isn’t it great? Mom griped about it a little. Said he was spending too much money. But h
e said a guy only turns sixteen once. I bet it set him back more than a hundred.”

  “Don’t forget he gave you the cell phone the day of their wedding,” Brooke said.

  “That was to buy me off so I wouldn’t move in with them.”

  “Did he say that?” Brooke asked. “Did he ever even suggest that you not move in with them?”

  Evan shook his head and held up the watch so they could see it better. “Nice gift, huh?”

  “It’s a watch,” Brooke said in her “big deal” voice.

  “And it’s a camera. See?” He gave her a quick tour of the tiny tool. “Cool, huh? Think of the pictures we could take—and nobody would even know it.”

  “No, Evan,” Beau said. “That tends to make people mad and you know what happens when some people get mad.” And he suspected that was what got them into trouble today.

  Evan was still too enthralled with his new gadget to listen. “A guy could get used to this stuff.” He straightened the watchband on his arm then leaned back in the bed with his hands clasped behind his neck.

  “Get used to what?” Brooke asked. “Letting someone spend so much money on you?”

  Evan wilted. “You know me better than that.”

  Beau nudged his sister. “At least the guy cares enough to want Evan’s friendship, even if he doesn’t go about it the best way.”

  “So what makes him think he’s got to buy it?”

  Beau gave Brooke a warning look then turned his attention to their friend. “Show me more about the watch, Evan. Can you download it onto your computer at home?”

  “I bet you could show me how. You’re the computer geek.”

  “It must have a flash drive on it somewhere.”

  Evan held the watch up and stared at it as if it were made of precious jewels.

  Evan’s encounter with his mother hadn’t taken much damage control today but Beau still wished they could forget this day ever happened.

  Chapter 7

  Thanksgiving Day dawned so bright and warm that Grant invited his dinner guests to join him and his kids at the park for a picnic.

  Dogwood Springs had settled comfortably into the forested hillside of southern Missouri a hundred and thirty-one years ago. Due to its protected location its citizens enjoyed warmer winters than in other areas of the state. The mature maple, hawthorn, oak, and, of course, dogwood trees, which had been planted when the town was first settled, had been dropping their brilliant leaves during the past few weeks. The autumn nature show stole Grant’s breath with its extravagant beauty.

  One of the best works of art had recently displayed itself right smack in the middle of town, where thirty acres of cliffs, hollows, and pristine springs of water served as a city park. A few brave leaves continued to cling with stubborn pride to their hosts.

  The aroma of Grant’s own special Vidalia onion barbecue recipe filled the air and made him eat more than he’d intended. He used it on the turkey he’d prepared in his outdoor smoker. Everyone else seemed thrilled by the change in plans. Everyone else had not been spoiled by Annette Sheldon’s Thanksgiving dinners for nearly half a lifetime.

  Still, he enjoyed his seat across from Lauren, who sat between the twins as she teased Brooke and giggled with lighthearted abandon. She had a musical laugh that could melt the coldest of hearts. Of course he was biased. So were his kids.

  Lauren might not realize the level of attachment the Sheldon family felt to her. He knew she hadn’t intended it to be that way but when Lauren McCaffrey gave her friendship she shared her very soul. She gave without thought of repayment—like the gardening she had helped them with this summer and the fishing trips. She’d not only shown them the best spots to catch fish but also helped them clean and freeze their catches later.

  He silently thanked God for her friendship. It wasn’t something he would mention aloud—it would embarrass her—but this was a day to be thankful. When Annette was alive his family had always made a habit of naming aloud all the blessings they could count on Thanksgiving. After her death they’d been unable to think of blessings. Without Annette life seemed to move forward in shades of gray.

  Brooke had caught the contagion of Lauren’s silliness and Beau’s eyes brimmed with laughter in spite of the damaged nerves that forced an uncharacteristic solemnity to his face. Twice he lost himself in the humor of the moment and his cheeks and mouth contorted with the lopsided grimace that was the closest he could come to a smile. He felt safe—they were among friends. Grant wished for more moments when his son felt comfortable enough to be himself in public situations. At least he had forgotten for a while about last Friday’s accident.

  A few expressions around the table remained heavy in spite of all the teasing and laughter. Gina Drake sat at the picnic table next to theirs, staring at her food and jabbing at it with her fork. From time to time she looked up at something Lauren said. Her eyes held shadows that Grant hadn’t seen for several months.

  Gina was a talker and ordinarily when she and Lauren were together they could hold a chatterbox sideshow that was spectacular to witness. Today she sat in uncharacteristic silence except when one of her little boys, seven-year-old Levi or four-and-a-half-year-old Cody, asked her a question.

  With a single glance Lauren expressed frustration with her friend’s silent brooding but Grant knew Lauren would find a way to work it out.

  Evan and his serious-faced balding father, Norville, sat across the table from Gina and her kids. They too had been mostly silent as they ate.

  Norville tugged at the short bill of his hat. He cleared his throat and caught Grant’s attention with a nod of his head. “I’ve been attempting to convince Evan that it might behoove him to take a prolonged visit with his mother.” The words came out with obvious difficulty. As hard as Norville had fought to get Evan to move in with him it would be painful to let him live with Lucy and her new husband. “For his own safety.”

  Evan sighed and rolled his eyes. “I told you that wouldn’t work. I can get myself beat up just as easily in Springfield as I can here in Dogwood Springs. I’ve got work to do here. Right, Brooke?”

  Grant’s occasionally clueless daughter blinked at Evan and shrugged. “You can take your computer with you and e-mail your articles to Miss Bolton.” She nudged Lauren and pushed two potato wedges onto her plate.

  Poor Evan slumped. Grant felt sorry for the young guy and feared for the heart he wore on his sleeve. Brooke might break it unintentionally. Since she probably didn’t even recognize Evan’s crush for what it was, he could be in peril.

  Grant looked at Lauren and Brooke, who sat with their foreheads nearly touching as they talked about the upcoming wedding of their pastor and Jessica Lane. Grant could not suppress a quick pang of envy. He would like to have that kind of easy relationship with his daughter but the parent of a strong-willed child could not let down his guard. At her impressionable age, Brooke needed the guidance of a full set of parents and so he was scrambling to fill both positions. He knew she wasn’t taking it well. She’d become more secretive with him lately.

  Thank goodness Beau had a logical mind and a mature outlook on life. Trying to keep up with two Brookes would have killed most fathers.

  Lauren said something that made Brooke chuckle and Grant’s attention returned to the soft curves of Lauren’s attractive face. She wore no makeup. Her blond hair tumbled around her shoulders with a golden sheen in the patchy sunlight that worked its way past the few remaining sassafras leaves that fluttered with spicy richness from the slender branches.

  Grant felt an uncomfortable kinship with Evan.

  With fingers and face covered in barbecue sauce, four-and-a-half-year-old Cody looked up at his mother. “Mommy, is Todd coming to the park?”

  Lauren and Brooke stopped talking.

  Gina blinked in surprise. “No,” she whispered, then grabbed a napkin from the middle of the table and dipped it in her water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “But I’m not done eat—” The rest
of his sentence was cut off by his mother’s brisk ministrations. Her complexion gradually deepened to an interesting shade of pink.

  “Did he have to work today?” Levi asked.

  “I don’t know.” Gina started on Levi, who quite possibly had some sauce in his hair, although with the strawberry blond color dampened to amber by root beer from his brother’s cup moments earlier it was hard to tell for sure.

  “Doesn’t Todd like Thanksgiving dinners?” Cody asked.

  “Todd?” Brooke asked. “Is he a friend of Levi’s from school?”

  “No,” Levi said, “He’s a friend of—” His mother’s wet napkin suddenly covered his mouth.

  “He’s a friend.” Gina’s color deepened further. “Levi, are you finished with your potato? What a beautiful day. I love this time of year. Maybe it’ll stay warm through Christmas. I don’t want to drag out my winter sweaters yet. I don’t like driving in snow.”

  “Snow!” Cody shouted. “I want snow!”

  “Yes!” his towheaded brother chimed in. “I want to build a snowman and have snowball fights and make a fort like we did in the mountains. Will it snow here?”

  “Does Todd make snow—”

  “I think you boys need to run off some of your energy,” Gina said. “Why don’t we go play on the swings at the playground?”

  “Yay!” Cody dropped his potato wedge and scrambled from the bench.

  Levi frowned at the pumpkin pie in the middle of the table. “But, Mom, we haven’t finished—”

  “Later. You can have dessert later—that’ll make Thanksgiving last longer.” Gina picked up the paper plates and napkins and rushed her older son from the table.

  “I can take them,” Brooke said. “I’m finished. I’ll push them on the swings.”

  “Maybe in a few minutes. I need to get them settled down first.” Gina glanced quickly at Lauren before her gaze slid away. “I’ll be back to help with cleanup.”

  Both tables fell into mystified silence as she walked downhill toward the swings and merry-go-round, holding her children’s hands—practically pulling them along.