by Emily James
As much as I knew we were trying to work toward the greater good, and that people couldn’t be allowed to go around killing each other simply because they didn’t want someone marrying their daughter, I still wished I wasn’t involved in this case anymore. I didn’t need to be. This was a choice I’d made. Glutton for punishment, my Uncle Stan would have said.
“I always expect to feel better when a strong lead comes along,” I said. “But so far I’ve ended up feeling like the Grinch stealing Christmas.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Elise smoothed her hands over her already-smooth hair, “but this is my first investigation. Erik only let me keep going with it because I’m the one who believed it wasn’t an accident from the start.”
I’d wondered. Elise seemed very inexperienced with investigating to have been given the lead on this case now that it was a case.
“I’ve known Tony a long time,” she said. “I don’t want it to be him.”
That was a sentiment I could echo. At least in Uncle Stan’s murder, I’d been wrong about it being Russ. In the other cases I’d been involved in, it hadn’t turned out as well.
“One of the reasons I quit my job as a criminal defense attorney was that I didn’t want to defend people who were guilty. Now I keep stumbling onto cases where the people I want to be innocent are guilty, and part of me actually wants to defend them.”
“Just because Tony had a motive doesn’t mean he did it.” Elise started the car. The windshield wipers squeaked like wet sneakers on a tile floor. “We’ll still need to see if he has an alibi for the time of the attack. And we don’t have the weapon yet, either. Did you check your barn to see if there was blood on anything outside the stall?”
I nodded. “I figured that whatever the attacker used they either brought with them or took with them afterward. I didn’t think to look for anything that might be missing and would fit the type of wound Mark described.”
Elise dug at the braiding on her steering wheel with her pinky finger nail. “Shaped like a miniature horseshoe.”
If we assumed Tony was the assailant, then his weapon of choice might have been a tool. “Is there a tool that would make that shape?”
“A wrench, maybe. If it was swung sideways like a baseball bat. But Mark would know better.” She slid her gaze sideways toward me and a smile played at the corner of her lips. “Should I call him and ask?”
Elise seemed to have the same naiveté about social interactions as Mark did, so she must have thought teasing me about a man I cared for and couldn’t have would help me get over him. I couldn’t come up with any other reason. I should tell her to call after she dropped me off, but that felt more like something a high schooler would do than a grown woman.
And I had to admit—I missed hearing Mark’s voice. “Might as well.”
My attempt at an it’s-all-the-same-to-me tone failed. Miserably.
Elise stuck an ear bud into her ear, and asked me to dial the number on her phone so she could keep her attention on driving. The falling snow had already created a slick sheet on the road.
I put Mark’s number in and tapped the green phone icon to dial.
“Grant?” Elise said. “What are you doing with—” She sucked in a breath so sharp she could have swallowed her tongue, and her face went slack. She listened for a minute. “No, I’m coming. I don’t care.”
My mouth dried up, and it felt like a hand reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. There was only one reason Grant would have Mark’s phone, and that Elise would go to wherever they were even though she was supposed to be working. Something had happened to Mark.
16
Elise seemed to have forgotten I was in the car with her. She disconnected the call with Grant and dialed another number on her phone.
“I need to take a family care day,” she said to whoever was on the other end. “No, it’s Mark. I’m heading to the hospital now…”
The other person must have asked her if she was alone or needed something because she jerked slightly and her gaze shifted to me. “I’ll be okay. Nicole’s still with me. We’ll stay together. I’ll call to tell you how he is when I know more.”
She disconnected the call, yanked the ear bud from her ear, and gripped the steering wheel. The car picked up speed, faster than I would have felt safe to drive in the snow, but Elise was a Northerner, plus she’d likely had training in driving in adverse weather conditions.
I wasn’t going to complain. My heart beat so hard and fast I could barely breathe, and Elise’s driving would get us to the hospital faster. As long as we were heading to the hospital, there had to still be hope. He was alive, and doctors were taking care of him.
The part of me that always seemed more scared little girl than grown-up woman wanted to cover her ears and hum. If I didn’t hear what had happened, it couldn’t possibly be true.
The rest of me wanted the worst up-front, as soon as possible. You couldn’t deal with the unknown. “What happened?”
Elise seemed to be struggling to swallow. The muscles in her jawline tensed and her throat worked. “Grant’s not sure exactly what caused it, but Mark slammed into the back of a semi. They don’t know how bad it is yet. They’re waiting for a doctor to come talk to them, but they’re not able to see him so…”
She trailed off as if she didn’t know how to finish the thought.
She didn’t have to. I knew. If they weren’t allowed to see him, it meant he was either in surgery or the doctors were working hard to stabilize him and they didn’t want panicky family members in the way.
I should tell her that I’d call a cab when we got to the hospital because they didn’t need a non-family member hanging around. (Did Fair Haven even have a cab service?) Though it sounded like she wanted me to stay with her even though I didn’t belong.
I could do that. I could be her support system for as long as she needed it.
My throat closed. I could even handle meeting Mark’s wife and seeing them together if Elise needed me. I’d been pining for a friend and missing Ahanti despite our frequent phone conversations. If I had a chance at a friendship with Elise, I had to be willing to suck it up, buttercup and be her friend when she needed it most, regardless of what it cost me.
“Their parents are snow birds,” Elise said out of nowhere. “They spend the winter in Florida. I hope Grant thought to call them. I’ll have to call my parents once we know more.”
Her thoughts had to be as much of a jumble as mine. Focus, Nicole. One of you needs to stay focused. “Did Grant say where to meet him?”
“Megan’s going to be waiting for us out front.”
That could be either Grant’s wife or Mark’s wife. And I was not asking.
Elise got us safely to the hospital parking lot and led the way to the emergency room doors. I slipped along behind her in my now totally inappropriate heels. They’d made sense when I was posing as a lawyer, though Stacey’d never even asked who I was. Now they were a liability. I couldn’t support Elise if I fell and broke my arm. I shuffled my feet instead of picking them up off the ground.
The woman who met us at the door didn’t look anything like the blonde in the photographs above Mark’s fireplace.
Meagan Cavanaugh was closer to my short stature than to Elise’s height and had a heavy dash of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her red-brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She reminded me a bit of a buxom pixie.
Elise quickly made introductions, and Meagan didn’t even question my presence with her body language or a sidelong glance. It felt like she should have. I wasn’t family. And surely she’d heard the rumors about me the same as Elise had. The woman had no reason to welcome or accept me.
I tottered along behind them inside, the floors nearly more slick than the pavement had been. Finally I yanked my shoes off and walked barefoot.
A doctor was already talking to Grant as we turned the final corner. There was an openness to Grant’s posture, hands loose at his sides and a r
elaxed curve to his knees.
I grabbed Elise’s sleeve. “He’s going to be okay.”
Elise frowned. “How do you know?”
“The way Grant’s standing. It says thank God rather than I’m bracing myself.”
She looked at Grant and then back to me. “He just looks like he’s standing there to me.”
Grant turned to us with a smile. I blinked twice before my brain fully registered that it was Grant and not Mark. Grant didn’t have the same dimples or the same premature grey at his temples, but they were otherwise identical.
Meagan walked straight into his arms, and a tiny bead of jealousy formed in my heart. Not over Grant, but over what they had. I kicked it back into the dark corner it came from. Now wasn’t the time.
“How is he?” Elise asked.
“Waking up. They had to put him under because the collision broke his wrist and they needed to set it. But other than that, some bad bruises, and a fractured nose, the doctor said he’s going to be fine, and we can see him. He gave me the room number.”
They headed down the hall, and I hung back. Elise was safe with family. It might be time for me to bow out gracefully before I had to come face to face with Mrs. Mark Cavanaugh.
Elise turned back and quirked her eyebrow as if to say what are you doing?
Or I could simply go, say hello, and set my mind at ease that he was going to be okay. Then I’d leave before any other family arrived.
Mark’s room wasn’t on the same floor as Noah’s, which made me feel even better. They’d placed Mark on the short-term-stay floor.
He looked the way I’d have imagined someone who’d just been in a car accident would look. His nose and around his eyes shone with the trademark black-purple of a fresh bruise. He’d been propped up slightly, and his arm lay in a sling across his chest. But his eyes were open, and he almost managed a smile as we all filed in.
I knew the moment he caught sight of me because his forehead got all crinkly the way it did when he was confused.
“They gave me too many drugs,” Mark said. “I see Nicole.”
Elise snort-laughed beside me, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek. What did it say that he thought I’d be his hallucination?
“You do have the same tolerance for medication as a five year old, but it’s not the drugs,” Grant said with a shake of his head. “That’s the real Nicole.”
Elise smirked. “Can’t you tell from the smeared mascara? If you were hallucinating her, she’d probably look less like a snow-drenched kitten and more like a runway model.”
The words hit me like a slap, but then I saw it. This was how Cavanaughs interacted with each other. They teased. Elise wasn’t being mean. She was treating me like part of her family.
I swiped my fingers under my eyes, which probably only made the mess worse. I hadn’t counted on slushy snow when I got ready this morning. I definitely hadn’t planned on seeing Mark. But if they expected me to take it, I was going to give it to. “I wanted to match Mark so he wouldn’t feel so bad about those raccoon bruises.”
Mark’s dimples popped out, and he cringed. “Maybe don’t make me laugh. My whole face feels a bit like I offered to be a punching bag for a prize fighter.” His lips twitched again, but he held the smile in check. “I’m just sorry I won’t have a scar. I hear chicks dig those.”
He looked straight at me, and heat flamed up into my cheeks. I definitely needed to make my exit.
Meagan rolled her eyes. “Chicks dig those? I think maybe they did give you too many drugs.”
“Probably,” Mark said. “Even if I’m not hallucinating Nikki, I feel like my words are taking a long time to reach my mouth.”
Elise ribbed him about how that might help him stick his foot in his mouth less often, and I stepped backward toward the door. An ache was building around my heart that was threatening to cut off my air supply. I couldn’t stay here anymore. Mark was fine, and Elise was fine. I really needed to go. Watching them all was like letting a dehydrated person lick the perspiration off a cup of cold water. I loved Mark, but I would have also loved to be a part of a family like this, and I was pretty sure envy was one of the seven big sins. I definitely envied Mark’s wife—not just Mark, but his family as well.
I waved at them. “I wanted to know you were okay, but I should probably go now. The room’s small, and I don’t want to be in the way when your wife gets here.”
The silence that fell made me feel like I’d shouted the F-word in church.
17
I couldn’t read the expression on Mark’s face. It was almost like he was trying to decide if I’d actually said what I’d said or if the meds were messing with his mind.
Crap. What had I stepped in now? Were they separated? Maybe they were separated and she wasn’t going to come and it was a painful topic for Mark.
I looked over at Meagan and Grant, who looked like I’d poured a bucket of ice cubes over him, then swiveled my gaze to Elise. Why was no one saying anything?
I moved back another step, and Elise lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “Nicole, wait. Did you not know Mark’s a widower? His wife died four years ago.”
My shoes slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a double whap.
The pictures on the fireplace mantel but no women’s shoes in his entryway. The ring on his finger but no wife at church with him. How he didn’t seem like a man who’d cheat on his spouse but still seemed attracted to me and unconcerned by it. All the little inconsistencies crashed into me and made sense.
And all the dirty looks people had given me when we were together, the ones I’d assumed had been because he was married, must have been because of the rumors. They thought I was going to break the heart of Fair Haven’s cherished son. In a way, I had.
I reached out a hand for the wall and hung on. I’d thought I knew the situation, but I’d assumed. I’d never asked him bluntly about his wife.
My face was so hot now that I thought I might cry. They must think I was an idiot. And I’d hurt Mark and myself. And dear God, what if he didn’t want to date me anyway?
“I think we should go grab a cup of coffee,” Meagan said.
Grant took her hand. “Yup. Mark, we’ll come back and find out what you need us to bring for you when we’re done.”
Elise maneuvered me around and pushed me down into the chair by Mark’s bedside. “I’m going with them, and you’re staying here.”
Then I was left staring at Mark, my face so hot you could have roasted marshmallows over it and seriously considering whether you could make yourself invisible if you wished for it hard enough. I dropped my gaze to my bare feet and tried to memorize the pattern on the floor. I had no idea what to say now or where to start, though everyone clearly thought we needed to have a conversation.
The hospital bed creaked as though Mark were shifting position to get a better look at me. “I need to hear you say it.” His voice was quiet. “Did you think I was married?”
I nodded, then realized that still wasn’t saying it. “That’s what I thought. You were wearing a wedding ring.” It sounded so naïve now. I’d skipped over an obvious possibility because of my emotional baggage thanks to Peter. “I know people who’ve lost a spouse often do that, but I’ve—my last boyfriend turned out to be married, and when I see a ring…”
Great. Now I was rambling like a crazy person.
And Mark wasn’t saying anything.
I forced myself to look up. He was grinning, despite his battered face.
“It’s not funny,” I said, but the pout in my voice was mostly faked. He isn’t married, kept zipping around in my head, distracting me from everything else. He isn’t married and he doesn’t look angry.
He didn’t even attempt to corral his smile. “It’s not funny. It might be in hindsight though.”
In hindsight, like when we told it ten years down the road? Like one of the stories couples told when they had guests over for dinner?
His expression sobered. “I th
ought you were dating Erik, but Elise said you’re not. Was she right?”
“We had two dates months ago. Now he’s just a friend.”
Before I could process what was happening, Mark was pulling suction cups off. The machine he’d been connected to wailed.
I stood up. “What are you doing?”
He swung his feet off the bed, a determined look on his face. “I’m going to kiss you.”
My stomach flipped over at the same time as he tried to stand and his legs gave out. I leaped forward and helped him lower back to the bed. “You’re crazy, you know that.”
“It’s the drugs.”
“It’s not.”
“No, it’s not.” He leaned his head back on the pillow, his face only a shade or two pinker than the pillow cover now. “Might have too much sedative in my system to walk yet.”
I dragged the chair over next to him. “It looks that way.”
I settled in beside him, and he sat up a bit. He stretched his good hand up to my cheek and ran his thumb across my cheekbone, where I probably still had mascara smeared. Tingles shot out from every spot his hand touched. I’d had dreams in the past where Mark’s wife disappeared. Part of me wondered if I wasn’t asleep now. My brain was still struggling to process the fact that Mark was single and all that meant for us.
“I’d still like to kiss you though,” he said.
My heart beat fast enough that it almost hurt in my chest. He couldn’t walk. What if he wasn’t thinking clearly either? “Are you sure that’s not the drugs talking?”
“Very sure.”
His slid his hand around to the back of my neck and drew me toward him.
“What’s going on in here?!”
I jerked back and Mark dropped his hand.
A middle-aged nurse in bright purple scrubs hustled over to the still beeping machines. “What did you do to these?” She scowled at me as though I’d been the one to rip them off.