by Beth Ziarnik
At that moment, the door opened, and Brian came out.
Jill braced herself. “How is he?”
Brian shook his head. “Weak and worried.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“I think you know.”
So, her dad had told Brian. She nestled her hand deeper into Clay’s. “Is he up to our visiting him?”
“I’m not the one to say. Alice is with him. You might ask her.”
Jill hurried through the open doorway. Alice was settling her father back on his pillows. She paused just inside the room, Clay right behind her. “Can we come in?”
The nurse nodded. “Please make it brief. And try not to stress him.” She slipped out of the room.
As they drew near her father’s bedside, Jill noted his gray face and sad eyes.
“You’re still here.” He shook his head and turned toward Clay, who stood behind her. “You must get her … out of here.”
“I understand, sir, but she refuses to go. You may not know it, but your daughter has a stubborn streak.”
“Dad, Alice believes someone is trying to kill you. She thinks that’s why you’re not getting well.”
He simply nodded as if he already knew, the mere effort draining him. Had Alice already told him? Panic arose in her throat. She had to get him out of here. “If you leave, I promise I will too. Please. For your own protection, go to a hospital where you’ll be safe and can recover.”
Tears gathered in his eyes though he made no sound. His lips moved as if trying to say something. When no sound came forth, he ceased the struggle.
Clay leaned in. “Sir, please listen. Bulldozers won’t get her out of here without you.”
Jill clasped her father’s hand. “If you’re staying, we’re staying. We’re not letting anything happen to you.”
“And I won’t let anything happen to Jill either,” Clay said emphatically.
“He can do it too.” Jill moved closer. Her father seemed to have trouble focusing his eyes. “Dad?”
His pupils rolled up toward his forehead, and his eyelids closed.
Jumping to her feet, Jill shrieked, “Clay, get Alice!”
Jill curled up on the lounge in her room and hugged her knees under the afghan. Thank goodness, Alice had managed to get things under control again. Observing a little color return to her father’s relaxed face, Jill had breathed easier even when he failed to open his eyes. But how long could this go on when they had found nothing that promised to save him.
Clay placed a glass of water in her hands. “Have you noticed?”
She swallowed some of the cool liquid. “What?”
“It seems strange that your father gets sick each time we visit.” His voice turned steely.
Jill ran the idea through her memory. Good grief. He was right.
His eyes narrowed. “Almost as if it were planned.”
Planned. The word sank into her heart like a stone. “But for what purpose?”
“Did this sort of thing happen before I arrived? Or only since?”
She thought back and then raised her eyes to meet his, a nausea settling in her stomach. “Before.”
“I think I know what your father was trying to tell us. Whoever is scheming to kill him is setting you up to take the blame.”
“Make me look like—”
“Like his killer.”
Her hands trembled, and the glass of water Clay had given her became too heavy to hold. She set it on the table. “If you’re right, Dad wants me far away if he dies.”
“When he dies. Whoever is behind this intends to win.”
“To take out both me and my father.”
“Yes.”
A cold shiver ran down Jill’s spine. “Do you think he knows who’s behind this?”
“It’s possible. He didn’t seem surprised when you mentioned it.”
“Then why wouldn’t he tell us?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a jerky hand through his hair. “I couldn’t even guess.”
Jill clutched the afghan, her knuckles white. “What if I leave?”
Clay’s gray eyes never left hers. “It won’t matter. Whoever is behind this harbors a lot of hatred and will end his life in a way that will still implicate you.”
“Then we stay.”
The idea terrified her but not enough to make her flee.
Chapter Eighteen
Despite Jill’s dampened appetite, Clay insisted they join her father’s family for dinner. “It’s our best chance of finding out what’s going on around here.”
Seated at the dining room table with Dora, Jill mentioned how strange that Lillie hadn’t joined them.
Dora placed her napkin across her lap. “She’ll be along later.”
“And Kathryn?”
Dora narrowed her eyes. “She is with her father.”
Jill glanced at her cooling plate of roast beef with oven-browned potatoes and braised carrots. As tasty as her supper looked and as heavenly as it smelled, she could barely force her fork to make contact.
Clay looked at her pointedly and nodded encouragement. He was right. Making as little fuss as possible would better serve their purpose.
Dora hadn’t touched her food either. Instead, the woman laced her fingers and stared down the length of the table. When Jill met her cold stare, the woman placed her hands on the table and covered the right one with the left. The one with the large diamond ring.
“I hear,” she said, “that John has asked you to leave.”
Jill’s mouth dropped open. How in the world?
The woman smirked. “Don’t look so surprised. Not many secrets survive in my house.”
Obviously. It appeared Dora’s restlessness had purpose. As long as that was the case, why not just ask her? “Do you also know who’s trying to kill my father.”
“Don’t be silly,” Dora said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “No one is trying to kill John. He’s simply very ill. You’ve known that since you arrived.”
Clay leaned forward. “Have you noticed he relapses every time Jill visits him?”
Jill stared at him. What in the world was he thinking to point out their newest discovery?
Dora’s eyes darkened. “Obviously, she is not good for him.”
“Or someone has a reason to make it look that way,” Clay said firmly.
Dora brushed some invisible crumbs from the table. “Ridiculous.”
Jill studied the woman’s undisturbed demeanor. Did she really know nothing? Had she not guessed what was going on under her own roof?
A wry smile touched Dora’s lips. “You disagree with me, Jill. Then why not say so?”
Jill remained silent. Why state the obvious?
The woman regarded her with eyes that promised trouble. “You are a lot like your mother, you know. She didn’t have much to say for herself either.”
“You knew my mother?” The shock reverberated through her.
Dora lifted her chin without removing her gaze from Jill. “I wouldn’t say I knew her. Though I certainly knew her kind. No doubt she thought no one would discover the despicable thing she and John had perpetrated. She actually seemed quite surprised to see me standing at the door of their Chicago apartment. Fortunately, it took little time to set things right.”
Jill stared wide-eyed at Dora. This was how her mother found out about Carolyn? O Lord, how awful. No wonder Mom reacted as she did.
Tapping a manicured finger on the table, Dora studied her reaction, then stopped the racket to resume her story. “Oh, your mother acted innocent enough, just as you do. But I wasn’t fooled by her any more than I am by you. I told her if she didn’t leave John, I would call the police and have her arrested for adultery. He had no right living with another woman while married to my daughter. Even if Carolyn lived in a mental institution. Even if the doctors said she would never recover.”
The elder woman’s eyes glittered with indignation. “After all,
he had two young daughters to think of and a duty to protect them from the scandal they would suffer if his sordid story hit the news. It would have eventually. Reporters always find out such things.”
Jill gaped at the horrid accusation. “My mother knew nothing about all this.”
“Or so she said. Though I wasn’t fool enough to believe her. I gave her no choice but to get out of our lives.” Dora’s nostrils flared.
“You didn’t care that my mother was going to have a baby? How heartless.”
Dora huffed. “She didn’t tell me. Even if she had, why should I care what happened to her after what she’d done to my daughter? I was glad to be rid of her.”
Jill boiled inside. What a haughty, self-righteous woman.
A warm hand with Clay’s familiar contours curled around hers beneath the table, offering comfort and courage. She was not alone.
Dora leveled ice-cold eyes at her. “And now it’s time that you go too.”
“Grandmother!” Lillie hurried into the room. “What are you saying?”
Squaring her shoulders, the woman sat ramrod straight. “It’s time for Jill and her friend to leave this house.”
Lillie descended on her grandmother with pleading. “No. She can’t go. Father is still too ill. He needs her. I need her.”
“Preposterous.”
“Grandmother, please. Please don’t make her go.” Tears formed in Lillie’s blue eyes.
Dora cleared her throat. “The matter is out of my hands. Your father told her to leave.”
Lillie turned to Jill. “Did he really say that?”
Jill’s lips trembled as she nodded.
“But why?” Lillie’s voice became a near whisper.
She might as well tell her. “He believes I’m not safe here.”
Dora snorted. “We might not want you here, but no one would harm you.”
Lillie reached out to Jill. “Grandmother is right. No one wants to harm you. Father is just too ill to know what he’s saying. Please don’t go.”
Her sister’s pleading touched Jill deeply even as the naked hatred in Dora’s shot daggers into her soul.
Lillie turned to her grandmother. “Please tell Jill she can stay.”
Dora grimaced as she again tapped her fingers on the table and studied her granddaughter. Finally, she forced an impatient breath. “As you wish. She can stay for now, and I’ll inform John. But mark my words, Jill Shepherd, you will leave my house—and soon.”
Jill sat very still, quivering inside. Through Lillie’s intervention, she and Clay had escaped eviction, but the reprieve could end at any time. They had to move quickly to save her father.
The sound of footsteps descending the stairs reached them. A moment later, Kathryn entered the dining room. “Well, what have we here?”
Clay rose to stand beside his chair and scrutinize the tall woman who paused beneath the arched doorway. She had the unmistakable features that marked her as John Taylor’s daughter. The older one. The one he had not met.
Lillie rushed forward. “Kat, you’ve come for supper. I’m so glad.”
“I didn’t come for supper. I came to see our father.” She looked down at Jill. “I see you are still with us. I had hoped you’d be gone by now.” She motioned with her head, her eyes becoming mere slits as she stared at Clay. “And who do we have here?”
Clay refrained from any display of temper. Lillie’s older sister was a tough one, much like her grandmother. Jill obviously had her hands full before he arrived.
Jill rose to stand beside him. “Kathryn, this is my friend, Clay Merrick.”
“Ah, yes.” She looked him up and down before dismissing him as if he were of little consequence. “The boyfriend too busy to join us for Christmas. Not that we were looking forward to your arrival.”
“What an awful thing to say, Kat,” Lillie put in, clearly distressed.
“For heaven’s sake, Lillie, wise up. He’s obviously as untrustworthy as any other man.”
Clay fought hard to hide his anger, glad Jill wasn’t of the same opinion.
“You’re fortunate, Lillie. You’ve never been saddled with a husband,” Kat continued.
Interesting. This woman was not only tough but wounded and bitter.
“Grandmother, I’m going to talk to a doctor tomorrow. Enough of this home care. Father belongs in a hospital, and I’m going to see to it.” The elder sister turned to leave.
“In the meantime, Kathryn, stay and take supper with us,” Dora urged.
“I’ve already eaten, and I have work to do. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Her head held high, Kat strode through the hall to the side door.
Kat. An apropos nickname. Clay could imagine how easily this one would claw anyone who stood in her way. He slipped a protective arm around Jill.
“I’m so sorry, Clay,” Lillie said. “Kat had no right to say that about you. It’s just that—”
“That’ll be all, Lillie,” her grandmother put in. “Let’s all eat before our dinner gets cold.”
In the upstairs hall, Clay took Jill’s hands in his. He was proud of how she had handled herself, even though she appeared battered from the dinner conversation they had endured. “Let’s take a walk in the night air? It might do us both good.”
Jill winced and stared down at her hands, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s been a long day.”
He didn’t press her. The strain in her eyes and her drooping shoulders told him she needed some alone time.
She kissed his cheek and then lingered, her chin trembling. “I love you, and I hope you understand.”
He did understand. Much as he preferred to spend more time with her, she had the right to recoup the way she thought best. “I love you too.”
“Good night, Clay.”
With a heavy heart, he watched her slip into her room.
The door closed, and he heard the lock slip into place. Trotting up the stairs to his room, he prayed the lock meant she’d be safe for the night.
Alone in his room, Clay removed the white velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened its lid. The many facets of the ring flashed in the box’s satiny depths. “Flawless,” the jeweler had crooned.
Flawless. What he dreamed their engagement would be. Obviously, not in this house. He closed the box. The dream would have to wait. Proposing now would rob their engagement of the joy he envisioned. He tucked the ring box deep into the one piece of luggage he had brought with him, then pushed it to a far corner of the closet.
At least the Lord had allowed him to come this far with his dream of a future and family with Jill. The man who bought his truck had brought him the down payment on their deal and had even allowed him to keep the truck until he and Jill returned to Chicago. He could see God at work, but danger still lurked ahead.
Kneeling on the carpet beside the bed, he poured out his heart to God. He had plenty to worry about and no clear plan to prevent the unseen disaster barreling toward them.
Lord, you know I love Jill. Please show me how to help her, how to keep her safe and stop her father’s killer before it’s too late for both of them.
Chapter Nineteen
Jill longed to sink into a tub for a hot, soothing soak but couldn’t shake the niggling pull. Not to disturb her father. Just to be near him, even if he was unaware of her presence.
At the sound of the door to his room opening, she perked up. Was Alice coming to ask her to sit with him? But, no, the nurse’s footsteps crossed to the servant’s hall. How strange that Alice, believing her patient was in danger, had left him alone.
A few minutes later, Jill stepped into the hall. Muted voices came up the stairwell, but this part of the house was otherwise quiet. Grabbing the opportunity, she crept into his room. Would he be awake? How she wanted to talk to him. But one look at his sleeping form and her hopes plummeted. This was not the time.
She slipped to her knees beside his bed. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, her voice quivering, “please hel
p my father accept your truth that all he has to do is ask you to forgive him. That your arms are open to him even now, waiting for him to reach out to you. Please help him know how much you love him.”
Her father’s hand rustled across the bedcovers and rested on her head. He was awake.
She pulled his hand between her own. “Dad? Please invite Jesus into your heart and life. Let him forgive you and make you his child.”
In the long silence that ensued, she held her breath and continued praying silently.
His lips moved. “Too … late.”
“No, it’s not. As long as you’re alive, it’s never too late.”
His eyes swam with a depth of love and agony she had never seen before. “Too late … for me.”
“Please don’t say that. Mom is in heaven, waiting for you, and when my time comes, I want to know you’ll be waiting for me there too.”
Removing his hand from hers, he turned away and uttered one last gentle word. “Go.”
Oh, no, Lord. No.
Jill stumbled to her feet. She would go, but she wasn’t giving up. She would stay nearby and pray through the night that he might change his mind. She entered his sitting room, separated from his room by an arched doorway and sought a corner farthest from his bed where she was not likely to be noticed. The approaching darkness outside matched the deep shadows within.
Her heart beat rapidly as she settled in. It was difficult enough that her father refused to forgive himself, refused to let God forgive him. But something else was brewing. Something she couldn’t quite identify.
Lord, why do I feel as if something is very wrong?
Trying to remain still, she squirmed and shuffled until she could not help herself. Pushing to her feet, she hurried into her father’s room. The pool of light from his bedside lamp revealed little. He lay so still. Was he breathing?
With reluctance, she reached out and laid her hand feather-light on his chest. The almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest registered, and relief washed over her. He was only sleeping. Yet his breathing seemed so shallow, as if he was only a whisper away from death.
Please, God, don’t let him leave this earth without you. Please don’t take him now.