by Regan Black
It was smart. She had to respect that. But it made her feel stupid. “So you knew. At the hospital. That I was leaving. And you said nothing.” She was spewing but it scared her that once again she’d come up short. How did she ever think she was going to pull this whole thing off if she couldn’t manage to slip out of town?
“You knew. At the hospital. And said nothing. Just left.” He was mimicking her cadence.
“It wasn’t easy,” she protested.
“Easy-peasy,” Hannah said.
“Not easy-peasy,” she whispered. She felt very close to tears.
Maybe he sensed it because she could see him take two deep breaths. When he spoke, his voice was kinder, much less sharp. “Can you tell me why you’re leaving, Laura?”
“It’s complicated.”
He smiled. “I’m pretty good at figuring things out.”
“Even when there aren’t any good answers?” she asked.
“I’m willing to give it my best shot.”
What was he saying? As wonderful as that sounded, she couldn’t accept his help. “That would likely not be in your best interest.”
“How about you let me be the judge of that.”
For him to judge fairly, she’d have to tell him all of it. Every single dirty bit. “Not something we can do here.” She looked at her watch. “Especially since I think this bus is about to pull out in about two minutes.”
“I think we’ll have about five hours before we stop,” he said. “Should give us plenty of time.”
“This is crazy,” she said. “Your dad is recovering from open-heart surgery. There is no way you should be riding on this bus. Going someplace you had no intention of going to.”
“Then come with me,” he said. “Come back.”
Hannah, who’d been chattering to Ja-Ja and looking out the window, turned her head. “Back to the cabin, Rico?”
Neither adult responded.
The bus driver walked down the aisle, doing a physical count of the passengers.
She’d be taking a terrible risk telling Rico the truth. He could turn her in to the police. She would lose Hannah. Lose everything.
She would be asking him to risk everything to help her.
The bus driver passed by her on his return trip to the front. He was taking his seat. Putting the bus into gear. Checking his mirrors. Easing forward.
Rico’s dark eyes were intense. Steady.
“Stop,” she yelled. “Stop the bus. We’re getting off.”
* * *
Rico wasted no time getting up.
“Hannah can’t be here for this,” she said in his ear as they piled off the bus. “And where the hell are your crutches?”
“In the car. I’m fine,” he said. Hell, better than fine. Happy.
That he’d caught her. That he’d convinced her to let him in on the secret. Was smart enough to know that it might fade quickly once he heard what she had to say but for right now, she was close enough to touch. And that made him happy.
“We’ve got two cars here,” she said as they walked to the parking lot.
“Yeah. I suggest you and Hannah take my SUV back to the hospital. I’ll follow you and return the keys to my sister. Then—” he paused, glancing at Hannah “—perhaps we can negotiate an hour of babysitting time from Charro in exchange for me helping Peter with the job hunt. Would that work for you?”
She nodded.
“By the way, did he say anything to you when the two of you walked out together?”
“No. But he spilled his coffee in the elevator and I had to help him clean it up.”
He shook his head. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“That’s what being a nice guy gets you. A job offer to your brother-in-law and…this. What did you tell them when you left the hospital to come after me?”
“Didn’t tell my mom much of anything. I suspect she’ll grill Charro when she sees her and Charro will tell her everything. It will drive both of them a little crazy that something is happening but they aren’t quite sure what. However, neither one of them is likely to tell my dad—they won’t want to worry him.”
“They’ve got to be wondering about me. Suddenly popping up in your life, almost leaving, coming back. Probably thinking the snow isn’t the only flake around here.”
He smiled. “Beautiful flake.”
She rolled her eyes. They were at his SUV. She opened the rear door for Hannah and the little girl crawled in. She bent to buckle her in then backed out of the car. When she straightened up, he leaned close, crowding her against the vehicle. “I’m glad you got off the bus, Laura.”
“I hope you don’t regret it soon, Rico,” she said. She was very serious.
He glanced in the car, made sure that Hannah was occupied with Ja-Ja, then bent his head and kissed her.
Gently. When he lifted his head, her eyes were closed. She opened them slowly.
“I’m not going to regret it, Laura. I’m confident of that. Now drive safely but let’s get this show on the road.”
Fifteen minutes later, when they walked into the waiting room, his sister and mother were conferring quietly. He was pretty sure they were talking about him because when they saw him with Laura and Hannah, both of their faces colored with heat.
“How’s Dad?” he asked.
“Sleeping,” his mom said. “Get your errands run, Laura?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. Glad you and Hannah got back safe.”
He thought Laura caught the meaning and he felt her relax a little. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Hey, I was wondering if we could leave Hannah here for an hour or so with the two of you. Laura and I…need a little time.”
Charro, who could be a pretty good big sister when she wanted to, immediately patted the seat next to her. “Sit right here, Hannah. I’ve been hoping I could get a closer look at Ja-Ja and you could tell me about her favorite things.”
“Well, she likes movies,” Hannah said, already walking toward her.
“Excellent.” Charro looked up and waved her fingers in his and Laura’s direction.
He could sense a reluctance on Laura’s part to leave, and he gently pushed her out of the room. “She’ll be fine. Charro is really good with kids—it’s the only reason Nathan and Aleja turned out so well.”
“Peter doesn’t get the credit?” Laura murmured as they walked down the hall.
“Please. Charro gets extra credit because she had to overcompensate for him. Where do you want to talk?” he asked. “Hospital cafeteria?”
She shook her head. “Too much risk of being overheard. Can we just sit in your SUV?”
“Sure. But let’s get a coffee for you and a tea for me to take with us. It will be a little chilly out there.”
They swung by the cafeteria and got their drinks. Laura carried them. When they got to his vehicle, he stowed his crutches in the back and sat behind the wheel. She took the passenger seat.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said.
“Just start.” He wanted to remind her to be honest but kept his mouth shut. He wouldn’t insult her like that.
“Some of what I’ve told you has been the truth. I was born and raised in Indiana. I moved to Tennessee several years ago and lived in Memphis. I live in Nashville, Tennessee, right now. My name is Laura. Laura Collins.”
Finally, he had a last name.
“I mentioned that I had an older brother, Joe Collins, and that he died recently. What I failed to mention is that my brother and I…were estranged. Six years ago, our parents were in a multi-vehicle crash. A large truck hit them, sending them careening into several other vehicles. Both were severely injured.”
She turned her head away from him. Looked out the window.
“What happened?” he asked
finally.
“They were alive when the ambulance got to the hospital. By the time my brother and I arrived several hours later, the news was very grim. Neither had regained consciousness and both were breathing with the assistance of a ventilator.”
He reached for her hand. She turned back to him. There were tears in her eyes. “It was a very bad time, Rico. A very bad time.”
He could hardly imagine. He stroked her hand with his thumb.
“I was their power of attorney for health care. I remember, quite distinctly, the conversation that I had with my parents when they told me that. They said that they thought I’d be comfortable in that role because of my medical background.” She stopped. “I’m a physical therapist.”
“Physical therapist,” he repeated. She was just full of surprises. Made it a whole lot easier to understand her response that first night when he’d shown her his scar and described his injury. She hadn’t asked many questions. Probably knew more about the type of injury than he did. Maybe had worked with patients who had a fracture of the lateral process of the talus.
“Yes. And you’re doing amazingly well for three weeks post-surgery, by the way.”
“Five weeks,” he said. “I shaved off a couple because I wanted you to think I was more impaired than I was. Sorry about that.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “I don’t have any room to play the injured party here. Anyway, my parents were confident that I’d be able to make the decisions that needed to be made. They were insistent that if something should happen and there was no hope that they could once again have a quality life, that they didn’t want any extraordinary measures taken.”
“I’m sure that was very tough on you,” he said. But he certainly understood her parents’ wishes. Wanted the same for himself.
“I had assumed that they’d told Joe that they’d given me their health care power of attorney. But he claimed he didn’t know. I tried. Those first few days in the hospital, I tried so damn hard to help him understand the realities of what we were dealing with. Reminded him of Mom and Dad and how they’d lived, so vibrantly, and how they would have hated to be lying in a bed, a machine breathing for them. He said we needed to give them more time. That he’d heard stories of people waking up after months.”
“Did the doctors think that was a possibility?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Anyway, after some truly horrible conversations with Joe, I went forward with what I knew their wishes to be and my brother left the hospital and I never saw him again.”
“Not at the funeral?”
“No. He didn’t come.”
She’d carried a hell of a load. But knew she’d protest if he told her that.
“I tried,” she said. “Months after the funeral, I reached out, thinking that enough time might have passed. But he wouldn’t answer my calls, wouldn’t return my messages. And after a while, I gave up.”
“Probably what most everyone would have done,” he said.
“Well, I always thought that someday we’d find our way past it. But that wasn’t to be. He died this past January.”
And that had added to her already heavy load.
“I didn’t know about his death until May. I came home from work and there was a letter and a check in my mailbox. It was from an insurance company. Evidently, he’d had a small policy through his work and I was the beneficiary. He’d been at the same job for years so I’m assuming it got set up way back and he never thought to change it.”
“How did he die?”
“He was shot. Taking his garbage to the curb. His wallet was missing and the police thought it was a robbery.”
“Was he married?”
“Yes. I didn’t know it at the time. But when I went online to read his obituary, I saw the name of his wife. Ariel. And—” she stared at him, then swallowed hard “—there was a child. A little girl. Hannah Collins.”
Her niece. She, who had lost so much, had found a blood relative. Her brother’s child.
“I wanted to meet Joe’s wife and I especially wanted to get to know Hannah. I didn’t even know if Ariel knew about me and if she didn’t, it might be quite a shock to learn that her dead husband had a sister. That her daughter had an aunt.”
“So I’m guessing you didn’t send an email?” he said.
“I was living in Memphis at the time, working at an outpatient clinic. I drove to Nashville and I went to their house. She answered the door and sweet Hannah was right behind her. I’m telling you, my heart almost burst from the joy I felt when I saw her. She was so cute and the resemblance to her dad was strong. She was a little piece of my brother who I had loved very much.”
He had a feeling where this was going. “But it didn’t go as you’d hoped.”
“No, it didn’t. I explained who I was and that I wanted to meet the two of them. I had hoped she would invite me in, that we could talk, that it would be a beginning. But she basically told me that I’d wasted my time coming to Nashville, that there wasn’t a place for me in their family and to go away.”
He could still hear the heartbreak. “What did you do?”
“I went away. That night, anyway. I mean, I wasn’t going to force my way in. But I also wasn’t going to give up. I went back the next day, early enough that I saw a man leaving the house. Probably on his way to work.”
“Who was he?”
“Her husband. I discovered that after I drove away and did some research. Ariel Collins remarried less than sixty days after my brother’s death. To a man named Hodge Rankin.”
“Wow,” he said.
“Yeah, wow. I tried to tell myself not to judge, not to be angry on my brother’s behalf, but I was having a hard time with it. I went back to Ariel’s house. This time, when she answered the door, I told her that I knew about her recent marriage. And she got a weird look in her eye. A look that I couldn’t decipher. But she wasn’t going to share with me. I get that. I was basically a stranger. Anyway, I asked to see Hannah and she said that would be impossible.”
He wished he’d been there with her. He’d have stormed the damn house.
“I had only arranged to be away from work for a couple days so I went back home. Just sick that I hadn’t had any time with Hannah. And I tried to think of a way that I could approach one more time, get her to listen to me. But I wasn’t coming up with much. Then, about three weeks later, out of the blue, Ariel calls me. Tells me that she and Hannah want to come see me, stay for a few days. I was ecstatic. Then she said that she thought she might have made a very big mistake. I wanted to know more but she said she had to go. I told her to come. To definitely come.”
She took a sip of her coffee. He knew that it had to be cold by now. He hadn’t touched his tea, either.
“But they didn’t come,” she said. “Didn’t call, didn’t cancel, just didn’t show. I waited all night. I didn’t have her cell phone, just her email. I sent a couple messages but didn’t hear back. I was furious. The next day I drove to Nashville, determined that I was going to give Ariel a piece of my mind. I got to the house and I pounded on the damn door. Knocked so hard that the next-door neighbor came out. Sweet little woman told me that Ariel Collins was dead.”
Laura was so pale. He started the SUV and turned the heat on high. Didn’t know why he thought the two things were connected but damn it, he needed to do something. “How?” he asked.
“Gunshot. She was at the mall. The police believed that she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and caught a bullet aimed at somebody else. Some gang thing. The old lady didn’t tell me this. I got that part from the police. Because that was the next place I went once I pulled myself together. After all, my brother and his wife had both died within six months of one another. Both shot.”
“And after she’d called you unexpectedly and suddenly wanted to visit.”
“Exactly,” she
said, sounding grateful that she didn’t have to explain more. “I told the detective everything. His name is August Phillips. And to his credit, Detective Phillips didn’t treat me as if I was a kook. But I also don’t think he totally bought into the idea that the two deaths were connected. I think he basically thought my brother and his wife had a whole bunch of bad luck.”
Hannah believed her parents were in heaven. Watching. Still with her in some way. He hoped she was right. “And Hannah is suddenly an orphan?”
“Through the detective, I learned that Hodge Rankin had legal guardianship of her.”
“He’d adopted her.”
She shook her head. “Ariel left it in her will. Her very recently signed will.”
“This is muddy,” he said. “Stinky, slimy mud.”
“Detective Phillips told me that odd circumstances are not necessarily bad circumstances.”
“He’s right,” Rico said. “But if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”
She smiled. “Exactly. I decided that I needed a closer look at the duck. I quit my job and moved to Nashville. I got a job at Hannah’s daycare. I was a little afraid that she might remember me from coming to her house the one day but she didn’t seem to. And I was so happy because every day, I was getting to be with my niece. My absolutely wonderful niece who had lost so much, so damn much, and had so much disruption in her short life, but had maintained her sweet disposition. I worried constantly when she’d leave for the night that the next day would be the one where she’d show up and be a totally different kid. Angry, withdrawn. All the things one might expect. And then morning would come, I’d see her and everything would be okay again. Until the next night when I would go home to my quiet apartment.”
“You were all alone, dealing with something like this,” he said. He was in awe of how strong she was.
“Almost alone. I had a friend from Indiana who had moved to Nashville twenty years earlier. Melissa had known Joe, too. I reconnected with her, and ultimately told her what I was doing in Nashville and why. I trusted her and I had to tell someone if only to have another perspective that I wasn’t losing my mind. She was wonderfully supportive. Occasionally, she and I would do something social but she had her own life. So most nights I would sit on my couch and worry until it was time to go to bed, where I would lie awake and worry some more. Sleep eluded me.”