by Nic Saint
She didn’t want to leave Erin and Suzie, however. Glancing over, she noticed the driver’s side door of the car was open, but from this angle she couldn’t see if anyone was still inside.
Then she heard the sound of sirens renting the air, and Ramon came hurrying back.
“They’re coming,” he said quite unnecessarily, and crouched beside her, staring down at the unfortunate girl. Suzie’s face was completely pale now, all the blood drained, and Eileen feared the worst.
“How is she?” whispered Ramon.
She merely shook her head, then looked skyward, indicating the girl’s fate now rested in the hands of the Lord.
Ramon’s face was grave, and he gritted his teeth as his gaze turned to the car. Rising swiftly to his feet, he stalked over.
As the young priest looked into the car, he was shocked to find it empty, the keys still in the ignition and the engine running.
Whoever had caused the accident had panicked and ran. Probably, he figured, if the snow hadn’t prevented him or her from fleeing the scene in the car, they’d have done so. As it was, the police would swiftly find whoever was so callous as to leave a young child dying on the road.
He cursed inwardly the odd coincidence that had brought Suzie Parsley to be hit directly in front of the church. He’d merely invited both girls over for a stern talking-to, nothing more, but then fate had intervened, and doled out a much harsher punishment than befitted the girl’s crime.
A child prank, he’d assured Mrs Cooper and Mrs Burke when they’d complained about the two girls throwing rocks at the side of the church, and when he’d discovered a small window had been broken, he’d merely sighed and smiled. He’d been young once, and done worse things than accidentally break a window.
And now this. He stood, the door of the car in his hand, as the sirens of the ambulance drew nearer, watching Eileen bent over the little girl, gently stroking her forehead, and was touched by both the serenity and the love that was evident in her touch.
He knew her to be a trained nurse, but had never seen this loving side of her before. She usually closed herself off from others, until that moment just before in the sacristy, and now that he saw the love in her touch as she comforted both Erin and Suzie, he felt something tug at his heart, and the thought entered his mind that she would make one hell of a mother.
And one hell of a wife for a deserving husband, the little voice continued, and in spite of the cold, he felt a warm feeling spread through his bosom.
A deserving husband. Could he be that husband? Could he be that man for her? He was surprised at the swiftness with which his mind closed itself off from the possibility.
Of course she wouldn’t consider him marriage material. After all, he was what he was. The parish priest. She wouldn’t want that kind of life for herself, not when the entire congregation spoke ill of her. She wouldn’t—he wouldn’t allow her to subject herself to that kind of scrutiny and harsh criticism.
And yet… She looked so enchanting now, her cheeks glowing from the cold, her breath escaping in little wisps, and her lovely face so hauntingly beautiful…
Then she looked up, and gave him a sad smile, and his heart twitched. Whatever she might think of him, he definitely wanted to spend more time with her. A lot more time.
Then the nurses arrived with a stretcher, and she stepped back, allowing them to work on the victim of this unfortunate accident.
Moments later, the police arrived, and both he and Eileen were called upon to supply statements of what had happened.
The driver, so it turned out, was Jack Rafter, a businessman from Arlingville, a town a hundred miles from Brookridge.
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Ramon, but only when the police had left, and the tow truck had removed Rafter’s car to the impound, did he finally remember where he’d heard the name before.
Turning to Eileen, who stood shivering in the church entrance, he asked, “Does the name Jack Rafter ring a bell?”
When her eyes widened, he knew his memory had served him well, in spite of the vehemence with which she shook her head.
Jack Rafter, Eileen’s ex-husband, had suddenly reemerged out of the blue, before taking off faster than the speed of light.
Chapter 6
Suzie looked just like an angel, Erin thought. A little angel that had fallen from heaven and now lay unmoving and silent on a bed of snow.
She touched her hand to the starchy sheets. Well, perhaps not snow, exactly, but still.
She was worried that Suzie looked about as white as the sheets she was tucked under, tubes leading from her face and hands to machines beeping by her side and a bag of some liquid suspended over her.
It contained medicine, her mother had said. Medicine that would make her friend better in no time.
Erin knew she was lying, for she’d overheard the doctor explaining Suzie’s situation to Suzie’s mother, Mrs Parsley. He said she had a fifty-fifty chance of survival, due to something bleeding inside. Erin wondered how something could bleed inside and you couldn’t even see it on the outside.
She just hoped Suzie would be well soon, and following the advice of that nice woman who had helped her and her friend, she prayed and prayed and prayed until she thought she could pray no more.
She looked up when the nice woman entered. Her name was Eileen, Erin knew, and she was a nurse. Or at least she had been until she had to stop being a nurse for some reason her mother hadn’t wanted to explain.
Eileen took a seat by the bed of the poor girl she’d found on the street outside the church. She was sad to see she was pale and unresponsive.
The doctor had told her she might not make it through the night, and she’d wanted to see for herself, feeling somehow responsible.
If her ex hadn’t been there, Suzie would be perfectly fine now. What had Jack been doing in Brookridge? Lord knows he had no business in town. He ran an investment company but had no clients down here.
The only other explanation was one she wasn’t willing to explore. He’d been in Brookridge to spy on her. To see how she was getting along without him.
But how had he known where she would be? Someone must have told him she’d be down at the church for choir practice; there was no other explanation.
But who? One of those gossipmongers the town seemed to be overrun with? It wouldn’t surprise her.
She smiled at Erin, who sat with head bowed, deep in apparent meditation. Poor girl. She just wished she had more comforting words to share than the mere ‘She’ll be fine.’
The girl wasn’t stupid. She knew her friend wasn’t fine, not fine at all.
“Hey, there,” she said when the girl looked up.
“Hello, Miss Stoker.”
So they’d already told her who she was. She wondered what else they told her, for she had the distinct impression the girl was less friendly now than before.
“How are you holding up?”
Erin shrugged. “I’m doing what you said. I’m praying all the time, so that God would save my friend and leave her here on earth and not take her up to heaven with him.”
Eileen had to smile in spite of the circumstances. “I think I’ll join you. Perhaps if we both ask for the same thing, God will agree.”
Erin’s eyes lit up. “Do you really think so?”
“We can only try, right?”
“Cause I told my mom about what you said, and she said it’s all a bunch of hooey and I shouldn’t waste my time talking to the likes of you.”
Eileen winced. “That’s what she said, huh?”
Erin nodded, her face serious. Eileen was struck by how much the girl looked like she did when she was her age. The same auburn shoulder-length hair, brown eyes and small face. With a pang of remorse she realized Erin could have been her little girl, if that husband of hers hadn’t run off with another woman, and the town had poisoned her reputation so no man would come near her unless it was for a night of fun and games.
“I don’t believe her, thou
gh,” Erin was saying. “I think you’re much too nice, and momma has been wrong before. In fact she’s practically always wrong about everything.”
Eileen was amused. At least one supporter refused to believe all the gossip swirling the town.
“You’re quite right, Erin,” she assured the little girl. “I’m really not as bad as people think.”
“I know you’re not,” said the girl seriously. “Because you saved Suzie’s life, I know you did, and you told me to pray to the good Lord so she will be well again.”
“Let’s pray together,” suggested Eileen, and bowed her head in prayer, just like Erin did.
When Father Ramon entered the room five minutes later, he was surprised by the grace and the silence hanging like a sweet blanket over the room. At its heart a little girl lay fighting for her life, and on either side, a young girl and a woman who looked like she could have been her mother, sat praying in quiet reflection.
His heart touched, he watched the scene for a few moments before interrupting with some reluctance.
“Eileen?” he whispered, laying a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Your husband has been caught. He’s down at the police station.”
Her face hardened, and he thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. What had the bastard done to her? he thought, and felt a vein twitch in his temple.
“I hope they lock him up and throw away the key,” she said vehemently.
He laid his hand on her shoulder once gain, this time in silent support. “He… He claims it wasn’t him behind the wheel. Says his car was stolen…”
“He’s lying,” she said blankly.
“I know. And that’s what I told the chief of police. But he still wants to talk to you downtown. Do you want me to take you?”
She shook her head adamantly. “I’ll go by myself. Don’t want people to have another excuse to talk.”
He nodded. He understood. She was trying to protect his reputation as well as her own. Still he insisted. “It’s not a big deal. I need to go that way anyway.”
She nodded her gratitude. “Thanks, father. But I’m fine.” She then gestured at Erin and Suzie. “Perhaps stay here for a little while. I think they need you more than I do.”
Hesitantly, he agreed, wondering why all of a sudden he felt so reluctant to see her leave.
Chapter 7
Eileen stepped through the double doors to the police station. She’d been here once before, in the early stages of her marriage. She’d discovered her husband had been cheating on her and had decided, after much deliberation, to file a complaint against him and then perhaps get a divorce.
How naive she’d been. Not only had the cops sided with Jack, they’d spread all kinds of horrible rumors about her, fed by her husband, and her reputation had suffered its first big hit. He’d made her out to be some sort of sex vixen, luring innocent men into her web, only to dispose of them later, claiming half of their possessions in the process.
She hadn’t had a decent man approach her since. Until today. Until Ramon.
She thought back with fondness to their moment in the sacristy. His arms around her, his body close to hers. It was the first time a man had held her like that in ages, and without ulterior motives at that.
She’d been more than a little surprised how her body had responded to the treatment. It was obvious she was craving the attention. In fact she’d craved something else, something he couldn’t possibly give her. She’d craved to feel his lips on hers, to feel his arms clasp her even closer and to undress her, slowly and tenderly, with loving care, until every inch of her body was exposed to his dark and sultry gaze, and his strong fingers could roam her skin uninhibited.
She’d longed to be kissed by him, not just her lips but all over, and most of all, down there. She’d had the brief temptation to offer herself to him, so he could take possession of her and make her his. She’d been under his spell, her arousal drowning her sense of propriety, and if he’d held her a little longer, she’d have thrown herself at his mercy, right there in the heart of the church.
Perhaps those old ladies were right after all. Perhaps she was some kind of floozy.
She stepped up to the desk and announced her arrival, not mentioning she was the former Mrs Rafter. She didn’t need to do the cops’ work for them. Besides, they’d smeared her reputation in the past, and they’d do it again in a heartbeat. The less she gave them, the less gossip they could spread.
She didn’t really understand what they needed her for anyway. Jack had hit the little girl, and he should pay for it, especially since he’d fled from the scene like the coward he was.
This had absolutely nothing to do with her, except that she was a witness. But she’d already given her statement, and had nothing more to add.
The officer behind the desk instructed her to take a seat in the waiting area so she did.
Her head held high, like was her habit when out and about town, she ignored the looks other people gave her.
She knew what they were thinking. That she’d done something wrong. That someone had filed a complaint against her. Another doctor jilted. Another man seduced. She didn’t care. She despised them all. It was the only way to retain her self-esteem in the face of so much garbage spread around about her. Even the little girl’s mind had been filled with the same junk. Good for her she didn’t believe a word of it.
Perhaps there was hope yet? Perhaps if the younger generation didn’t believe what their elders told them? If only people would draw their own conclusions, based on fact, not gossip…
An idle wish, she knew, human nature being what it was.
Five minutes later, a burly policeman stuck his head in and told her to follow him to the interrogation room.
At the mention of the word, several eyes swiveled in her direction, and she knew the minute her back was turned, the gossip machine would start to run full force.
She decided not to care, and followed the officer down a long corridor until they arrived at a small office.
Entering, he asked her to take a seat, and closed the door.
The room was bland, with white-washed walls, a table and three chairs. Not even one of those one-way mirrors you see so much on cop shows, she thought, and wondered what in the hell they wanted from her.
Suddenly she wished she had accepted Ramon’s invitation to bring her. He would have waited for her in the waiting area, perhaps, and knowing he was there would have calmed her frayed nerves.
But then she thought of all the people who would see him with her, and she knew she could never accept his offer. Not now. Not ever. She couldn’t drag him into the quagmire she’d lived in for the past couple of years.
Suddenly, the door swung open and the policeman who’d taken her statement back at the church, stepped in, a notebook in hand, and a serious look on his face.
He was a squat little man, his face oddly squashed, as if someone had sat on it, and wore the same rumpled suit she’d seen him in that morning.
“What is this about, officer?” she blurted out. Waiting had only increased her nervousness, and now she wouldn’t take a vague explanation even if he offered it to her. She wanted to know exactly why she was here.
The man didn’t disappoint her.
“Your ex-husband is accusing you of driving that car, Miss Stoker. He says it was you behind the wheel. Says he was nowhere near Saint-Theresa’s and this is all an attempt by you to cheat him out of more alimony.”
Chapter 8
Officer Burt Howe eyed the beautiful Miss Stoker with keen interest. He’d heard about her, of course, but had never met her face to face until that morning.
She kept much to herself, and rarely stepped out of the house if she could avoid it. After her divorce she’d moved back in with her parents and she’d become something of a social recluse.
Nor could he blame her. There was a moral majority in this town that did much to sicken him in their self-righteous campaign to clear the town of anything that didn’t fi
t their warped agenda.
She was even more gorgeous than he’d supposed, he decided. The satin hair, freely flowing down her shoulders, eyes that shot with fury, and a chest any man would die for.
It was her ample bosom, he knew, that had given rise to so much gossip. No woman, according to the local inquisition, had a right to be so overtly sexy and get away with it.
And if anyone argued she couldn’t help being born this way, they countered there were operations that could take care of her problem, and she owed it to the community to have a breast reduction and diminish the evil spell she held over the male population.
Now that he came to think of it, it was only women who ever talked smack about Eileen Stoker, never guys. Men just wanted to get her into bed and have a look at the fabled Stoker puppies.
He shook the despicable thoughts from his mind and focused on the matter at hand.
“Your husband—”
“Ex-husband,” she was quick to correct him.
“Your ex-husband Jack Rafter claims you came to visit him this morning?”
“That can easily be disproved, officer. I was at choir practice all morning. At least a dozen people saw me there.”
“I know,” he acknowledged. “Father Ramon told me you were never out of his sight.”
“So? What am I doing here, then?”
He scratched his scalp. “It’s not as easy as that, Miss Stoker. Your husband claims you stole his SUV. Says it wasn’t there this morning when he wanted to drive to work. So he naturally assumed you went to his place this morning and took the car. For the same token, though, you might have stolen it during the night or very early this morning. He says he didn’t see it after nine o’clock last night.”
“Steal a car? Me? I don’t even know how to drive one.”
He sat up a little straighter. “That a fact? Then why is it I found a driver’s license in your name?”
She waved a deprecating hand. “I got that thing ages ago. I haven’t set foot behind the wheel of a car in years.”