Unscripted

by J. S. Marlo

  “You can’t save her. Nobody can bring her back.” An idle week alone at home had done little for his mental state. Everything in the house reminded him of Claire, but Claire was gone. He’d never hear the sound of her voice again, never see her smile, or feel her touch. She’d never set foot inside their house again, and there’d never be any new memories. He’d lost her. And nothing he did or said would change that. She belonged to his past, and the time had come for him to let her go. “Your daughter meant everything in the world to me, but she’s gone.” The Randalls didn’t hold a monopoly on grief. Claire deserved a proper burial as much as they needed closure. “She’s been gone for nine months. It’s time for her to rest in peace.”

  “You can’t—” His mother-in-law burst into tears, and it made his next decision that much more heart wrenching.

  In his pocket was a formal letter requesting the cessation of life support, and he intended to give it to Claire’s doctor this morning.

  The door of Salinski’s office opened, and the doctor exited into the corridor. “Would you please step inside?”

  ***

  Riley brushed the colt’s black coat. Willow’s baby was nervous around humans, so she’d been spending extra time with him to gain his trust. To her delight, he hadn’t recoiled in his stall when she’d first approached him that morning. Ollie had wanted to name him Fighter, but she preferred Moonshine in honor of the night he was born. As a result, he remained unnamed.

  Her husband’s absence, and the presence of her mother-in-law, weighed heavily on her. The old lady was aware she’d overstayed her welcome, but she refused to vacate the guestroom. Hoping the cold treatment might convince her to depart from the ranch, Riley instructed her son to ignore her. Happy to oblige, he split most of his days between the fire station and Piper’s apartment, while Riley spent her days in the stable, cleaning the stalls and tending to the horses. The presence and the smell of the animals stopped her mother-in-law from venturing there and allowed her some peace.

  “A few more strokes, and we’ll be all done.”

  After five weeks, the stitches on her breast were gone, and the outside of the wound had healed, but the flesh was still tender. To minimize her discomfort, she had to be careful not to overuse her right arm. If only mending her broken heart could be that easy. She’d forgotten how much pain she’d suffered when Chad died. Back then, Ollie had helped her glue the pieces of her heart together, down to the last one, but now she’d lost him, and there were so many tiny pieces shattered and lost in her chest that she feared her heart might never be whole again.

  The stable door squeaked. “Mrs. Kendrick? Are you there?”

  Willow’s foal bolted away from her. Not too fond of the police chief, are you?

  “In here.” With one last look at the colt, she exited the stall into the aisle.

  As he passed Sweetness, the police chief petted the mare’s mane. “Beautiful animal.”

  “She belongs to my son. What can I do for you?” The last time she’d seen the man was a month ago, on the morning of Ollie’s funeral.

  “Sorry to intrude, but your mother-in-law told me I’d find you here. She’s a charming lady. You’re lucky.”

  Ollie’s mother was as sweet toward strangers as she was unkind toward her son’s family. Revolted by the woman’s attitude, Riley tossed the brush into the empty stall next to the foal’s. “Why are you here?”

  “To give you this.” He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “The night he died, your husband called me, but he forgot to hang up. I’ll never know if he did it on purpose to keep me apprised of the situation or if he pressed the wrong button. In any case, this is an unofficial transcript of what happened that evening. Being the one who figured out the arsonist’s next target, you should read it.”

  “No. I can’t.” When she’d told Ollie about the dance studio, she’d sent him to his death. Tears burned her eyes. She didn’t want to relive that evening. She couldn’t relive it, not without losing her sanity to guilt. Tired of crying, she angrily wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Please, go.”

  Indifferent to her plea, he deposited the envelope on the ground. “If not for you, read it for your son. When my men found him, he looked as guilt-ridden as you do.”

  ***

  Seated on a hay bale in an empty stall, Riley read the transcript. And read it again. And again.

  Tears she couldn’t contain stained the piece of paper crumpled in her hands.

  Circumstances beyond anyone’s control had turned Ollie’s reconnaissance into a rescue mission. Hunter needed to hear what had transpired in the dance studio while he’d been saving all those children.

  Unsure of the time of day, she left the confines of the stable. The barren top of the mountains glowed a splendid shade of inky gray against the purple and pink backdrop of the western sky. Sunset used to be my favorite time of day. A lifetime ago, she’d enjoyed sitting on the veranda while watching the sunset in the loving embrace of Ollie’s arms. Not anymore. Not ever.

  Hunter’s car was parked beside Ollie’s truck near the barn. One day she might figure out what to do with the banged-up, but drivable vehicle, but not tonight.

  On a mission to set things right, she entered the house with the transcript in hand. In the kitchen, someone had discarded dirty dishes on the counter. Ignoring the mess for which her mother-in-law was more than likely to blame, Riley hurried to the second floor.

  Her son’s door was closed, and from behind it, the sound of the television carried into the corridor. Hoping to find him alone, she knocked. When no one answered, she counted to five before slowly peeking her head around the corner of the door. “Hunt?”

  Lying on his bed wearing boxers, his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. “Ro left a week ago, and Medusa is still here. How much longer do we have to endure her presence?”

  She walked into the room and sat on the side of his bed. “Your dad would be mortified to hear us talking about his mother like that.”

  “But Dad isn’t here, is he?” The light was gone from his eyes, leaving behind a vacant look. “You think he can see how she treats us now that he’s up there?”

  Over the years, Riley had tried many times to broach the subject of his mother’s behavior, but Ollie never understood the hostility. Of all the storms they’d weathered together, the old lady had been the fiercest. “He’s watching us, Hunt, and he’s heartbroken to see you feel responsible for his death.”

  As he turned his head away from her, Riley could sense a cloak of guilt weighing down her son. The police chief must have witnessed too many tragedies to have seen through Hunter and her so readily.

  “You weren’t there. You don’t understand.”

  “The girl tampered with the gas line, Hunter. It wasn’t an accident someone could have prevented. Her mother’s boyfriend burned her cat alive, and she was suicidal.” The scenario of that night had been written long before Hunter or Ollie entered the scene. “Your dad never had a chance. All he could do was talk to her and buy you time while you saved that family. There was nothing else you could have done.”

  His hands clenched into fists, he slammed his arms down his sides. “You don’t know that.”

  “Do you remember where your dad put his phone after he called the chief?”

  “In his shirt pocket, I think. Why?”

  “He never hung up, Hunt. The chief heard the entire conversation from the time you pulled into the dealership lot and saw the light in the window to the time the dance studio exploded.”

  “He…” Hunter shook his head. “He may have been distracted. I should have stopped him, Mom. I could have told him I needed help with the children.” The quivering of his voice elicited fresh tears in her eyes. “Why did I see that light in the window?”

  Grief spoke, not her son. Sharing his pain, she ran her hand along his arm. “You couldn’t walk away from that family any more than your father could abandon that little boy in the burning hou
se.” Ollie had criticized Chad for playing hero, but when faced with a similar situation, her second husband had made the same sacrifice. The same infallible sense of duty permeated the moral fibers of all the men she loved, and where Chad might not have saved that boy, his unselfish action brought comfort to the boy’s parents. “Your dad carried out his duty, like your father had done before him, and like you did when you followed his orders.”

  His hand covered hers as he looked at her with tears brimming in his eyes. “I’d just cleared the building with a sick girl in my arms when the shockwave threw me on the ground. I broke the girl’s leg. She screamed like you wouldn’t believe, but the mother kept thanking me. I’d injured her daughter, and she still wouldn’t stop thanking me.”

  Once the pain of losing his dad eased, the mother’s reaction would bring Hunter some measure of peace.

  “Your dad would have been so proud of—”

  “Stop calling him his dad!” Ollie’s mom screeched from the doorway. “Oliver wasn’t their father. You never gave him real children.” The spiteful woman pointed a crooked finger at Hunter. “Just those ugly ducklings.”

  The malicious attack pierced Riley’s soul and hurt more than any bullet ripping her flesh.

  Hunter sat bolt upright in bed. “You nasty disgusting—”

  “Hunt.” Her hand pressed on his chest. When he met her gaze, she continued. “Sinking to her level isn’t the answer.” He nodded, and she turned her attention back to the doorway. The old, shriveled, gray witch was gone. “Let me handle this, okay?”

  “What are you going to do? Shoot her?”

  The suggestion yielded some appeal. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Fury built with every step Riley skipped as she rushed downstairs. She wanted Ollie’s mother gone. Not in a week. Not tomorrow. Now.

  The guestroom was at the end of the hallway past the staircase on the first floor. After she cleared the staircase, something clanged in the kitchen. Instead of heading toward the bedroom, Riley made her way to the kitchen, pausing beside the table. Her back turned to her, her mother-in-law was making tea by the counter.

  “How dare you insult my children?” Where she found the strength not to yell was a mystery. “I kept you under my roof as a mark of respect for Ollie.”

  “His name was Oliver!” As she shouted his name at the top of her lungs, her mother-in-law spun around. “You never cared for his first or last name. You’re just like your mother, a piece of promiscuous trash that lures men to their death.”

  Shocked and infuriated over the lewd insult, Riley froze in place. Her mom and dad had died in a car accident when she was a child. Ollie’s mother had no right to speak of her mother like that, but if she meant to hurt her with the cruel, unwarranted affront, she’d succeeded. The wall of civility Riley had fought hard to maintain crumpled in pieces. “You get out of here. Now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to ruin your life, like your mother ruined mine.”

  The woman was insane. Nothing was worth such hatred. “You’ve always despised me and my children. Why?”

  “You enslaved my Oliver with your evil green eyes.” The old crone swung her arm to the side, as if to strike an invisible foe, hitting the stainless steel kettle. It clattered into the sink. “He never loved you. He married you out of guilt, out of pity.”

  “That’s a lie, you monster.”

  At the sound of Hunter’s voice, Riley turned around. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen. A cold and brash expression warped his face.

  “You snotty jerk.” As the old lady took a step forward, her leg buckled underneath her. She grabbed the edge of the countertop with both hands. “You’re not…his son.” Her fingers eased their grip on the counter, and she collapsed near the kitchen sink.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A year ago, the two months Blythe spent in a rustic cabin by the Atlantic Ocean with Claire had sped by like water running through his fingers. This year, the hours he spent alone in his house seemed to seep through a narrow hourglass, one grain of misery at a time.

  It’d been two miserable weeks since the beginning of his vacation, and four long weeks since he’d seen Riley. He missed her…and it scared him to realize he missed her as much as he missed Claire. Something was wrong with him. Riley was with her husband and son, enjoying the summer at her ranch, but no matter how often he reminded himself she belonged to another man, he couldn’t get her off his mind. Something was definitely wrong with him. He had a wife, a dying wife, to worry about; he shouldn’t be thinking about a married woman.

  Over the last few days, he’d given a brush cut to the luxurious, green grass adorning his front lawn, trimmed and pruned the thick, colorful bushes growing under his front windows, and weeded the flower beds snaking around the decorative stepping stones leading from the front door to the cobblestone driveway.

  The front lawn of his house was beautiful, except for the red For Sale sign standing in the middle like a strawberry stain on a white shirt.

  Twenty minutes ago, while he’d swept the porch, his real-estate agent had called him to inform him of an imminent visit. Not wanting to be in the house when the potential buyers showed up, Blythe had shed his old jeans and changed into a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt before heading out. His nephews should be at the arena. He’d stop by to watch them, and the boys would be thrilled. As he pulled out of the garage, a red Mercedes-Benz coupe parked in front of his driveway, blocking his exit. He knew of only one car matching that description, and it didn’t belong to his real-estate agent.

  Bella’s unabated infatuation grated on his nerves, and her shameless use of charm repulsed him. Working with her was bad enough. He didn’t want to waste his personal time in her presence. He shouldn’t have changed clothes. If he’d left just two minutes earlier, he would have avoided another unpleasant chat.

  The side-view mirror captured her approach. When she knocked on his window, he lowered the glass and skipped the platitudes. “I’m on my way out, Bella.”

  “That’s too bad. I see your house is for sale. Any chance you’re moving out and moving on?”

  His future didn’t concern her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on some Greek Island enjoying the locals?”

  “I was, but when a tropical storm damaged the roof of my cozy little cabin and water poured into the bedroom by the buckets, I flew home.”

  “What a shame.” Her misadventures didn’t interest him.

  “You know what’s even worse?” She bent forward, pressing her forearms against the window frame. “I have nothing planned for the next six weeks.”

  The deep cleavage she advertized didn’t disconcert him as much as the purple eyes appraising him.

  “That should give you plenty of time to book another appointment with your optometrist.”

  “Don’t you love my new eyes?” She fluttered black-coated eyelashes over her new, disturbing colored lenses. “Or do you prefer green?”

  If this was bait, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. “Move your car, Bella. I’m late to go see my nephews.”

  “But I just got here.”

  Exasperated by her whining and blatant disregard of his private life, he rolled up the window. “You’re leaving, Bella.” As she retreated away from his car, his cell phone rang in his shirt pocket, and he dug for it.

  At the sight of Riley’s cell number flashing on the screen, Blythe’s heart rate accelerated. “Hello, Shamrock.”

  “It’s…” The hesitating voice didn’t belong to Riley. It didn’t even belong to a woman.

  In his haste, he’d used the nickname he’d given her before ascertaining her identity. He readied himself for some explaining. “Who’s this?”

  “It’s not my mom, Mr. Huxley. It’s Hunter.”

  Riley’s son didn’t seem to have taken offense in the nickname. “Hello, Hunter. I’m sorry for the confusion. What can I do for you?”

  “I need your help.”

  ***

/>   For nearly twenty years, Riley had wished Oliver’s mother out of her life, but the death of the old lady had unleashed more monsters than she had the strength to slay.

  As next of kin, the coroner wanted her to come and claim the body, and the landlord wanted her to come and empty the apartment, but Riley couldn’t care less what happened to the dead woman or her possessions.

  Disheartened, she’d tossed hay into the empty stall beside her mare’s stall and sought refuge in the stable. Lying on the makeshift bed with Ice on her stomach, she stared at the three nails protruding from the lower board near the gate. The stall was unoccupied, and before she moved a horse inside, she needed to hammer them. Another task to add to her ever-growing list of chores.

  Hunter wanted to help with the ranch and the demons, but she’d be damned if she let misguided duty prevent him from fulfilling his dream. His future lay at the end of a hose, not a pitchfork. Firefighter school awaited him. Taming the demons wasn’t his battle. In a neighboring stall, Willow’s foal neighed in agreement.

  “Mom?” Her son entered her field of vision. “The vet called your cell.”

  “Did you answer?” The phone was in her purse, which was somewhere inside the house.

  “I missed it. Here’s your phone.”

  As she accepted it, she forced a smile. The vet had left a voice mail, but when she tried to retrieve it, she pressed a wrong button. The screen displayed the call history, and it was empty. “Why has the call history been erased?”

  “I borrowed your phone to call Piper. I must have erased more than that call. Sorry.”

  She looked up. His Adam’s apple bobbled up and down, but he held her gaze.

  The missing call held no importance. “Are you done packing?”

  A stubborn determination shone in his eyes. “I’ve already told you. I’m not going anywhere.”