by Brenna Lyons
“I’ll have to check the gift bag.”
“I prefer to open my own gifts.”
The officer seethed, but he backed off.
Eric looked at her in concern and swept his arm around her. He guided her back to the bed, and Kyla could tell he was resisting the urge to carry her there. When the door snapped shut, he spoke. “What are you doing up?”
“Setting those bozos straight, I hope. Honestly Eric, I was never a prisoner at Gram’s, even when I was stir-crazy. Now, I’m a prisoner. I hate it. I want to see Joe.”
Eric nodded and helped her back into bed. When she relaxed back into the pillow, he sighed. “I see. In other words, you still don’t know how to take it easy when you’re injured.” He smiled grimly and handed her the gift bag. “This is for you.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I did. Joe would have broken my leg if I didn’t. It’s from him.”
Kyla felt a deep blush come up. “Then I really thank you.”
“Oh, I see how it is. A gift from Joe is more important than a gift from me.”
She laughed, then gritted her teeth. “Now I’m going to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry. It should be,” Eric assured her.
Kyla pulled out the tissue paper and gazed into the bag. Inside were bottles of her favorite shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, a brush, and hair ties. Wrapped around the outside, was a beautiful green nightgown. Kyla found that she couldn’t speak for several long seconds.
She nodded with tears in her eyes. “Thank you Eric, and thank Joe.”
Eric grinned. “Yeah, he’s a pretty thoughtful guy. He helped me pick that out, by the way.” Eric tapped his temple. Then he reached out and hugged her gently. “I better go. I hear Waters is hot to talk to me. Bozo out there has probably already called him to tell him I’m here.”
Kyla nodded. “Eric?”
He turned back. “Yes?”
“Thank you for everything.”
Eric smiled widely. “Just don’t name your firstborn after me.”
“How about Erica?” she teased.
Eric favored her with a scathing look as he closed the door.
* * *
By the time her family returned, Kyla was cleaned up and dressed. The day nurse, Anne, had frowned on the idea of a shower, so Kyla contented herself with a sponge bath.
And not by Anne. Someone had obviously done a pretty good job of cleaning her up while she was unconscious. Her hair was tangled, but it was clean, and the slimy mud was all but gone.
Getting the nightgown on had been problematic and painful, and brushing her hair was downright taxing, but Kyla felt presentable. It seemed a shame to cover the beautiful gown with the flimsy hospital robe, but she didn’t think parading around the halls in the gown alone would be an option.
Molly bopped in the door followed closely by Josie.
“Where’s Dad?” Kyla asked.
“Fighting a wheelchair off of that battleaxe nurse.” Josie grinned at her older daughter.
“Anne? Yeah, she’s a little anal, isn’t she?”
Josie looked at the long skirt of the gown sticking out from beneath the robe. “That’s a nice color for you,” she commented.
Kyla blushed. “It’s from Joe. One of our friends dropped it off.”
“When are we going to get to meet all of these friends?”
“I’m sure they’ll all show up for the wedding.”
“Will Liz wear black?” Molly asked.
Kyla laughed. “No doubt about it.” She looked at Molly. “Please, Molly. Don’t talk about them here. At home, okay?”
“Why?”
“The guards. My friends can get in a lot of trouble for helping me hide. That’s why we can’t talk about them here.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t say it. Think it.”
“Like this?”
Kyla nodded.
Josie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Are you two ever going to let me in on this?” she asked in irritation.
Molly giggled, and Kyla felt a pang of regret. Then she heard it.
“...better with Molly than I’ll ever be.”
Tears welled in Kyla’s eyes. “No, Josie. You’re wrong. You’re the best Mom any kid could ever have.”
Josie stared at her. Then, she nodded and hugged Kyla. “I think I understand.”
Matthew breezed in the door. “Well, I got the wheelchair.” He looked from Kyla to Josie in confusion. “Okay, what did I miss now?”
Josie smiled at him. “Nothing, Hun. It’s a girl thing.”
“Well, let’s move. I’m sure Joe is as anxious as you are.”
Kyla settled in the chair. “I’m ready.”
“Can I ride too?” Molly asked.
“Okay, but no bouncing,” Kyla answered.
Matthew lifted his younger daughter into Kyla’s lap and started pushing.
The officer blocked their path at the door. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave this room,” he informed them.
Matthew turned a vivid red under his olive skin. “What?”
“I have orders.”
Kyla patted her father’s hand and took over. “Am I under arrest?”
“What?” The officer seemed confused by the question.
“Am I under arrest? It’s a simple question.”
“No, you’re not, but I don’t—”
“See what that has to do with anything? Well, let’s see. If I’m not under arrest, then I’m free to go where I please. I am going to see Joe, with or without you.”
“I can’t be responsible if you leave this room.”
“You can’t be responsible if I stay in this room.” Kyla smiled. “I’m leaving in two days. Why not talk your boss into letting us room together so I’m not traipsing around the hospital?” she suggested.
The officer stepped aside and followed her down the hall. He radioed Joe’s guard to let him know what was happening but didn’t speak to Kyla again. She could feel him seething the whole way.
At the elevator, Kyla caught sight of a sudden movement and saw a familiar face. She looked away, so the guard wouldn’t catch the look on her face.
“Jason, get the hell out of here.”
“Hi, boss lady. I have a few days off of work due to my unfortunate skating accident. Just thought I’d keep an eye on things.”
“You want to get caught. Is that it?” she stormed.
“Relax. I’m not even packing. All I am is an extra pair of eyes.”
Kyla rubbed her forehead roughly.
“Are you okay?” Josie asked.
“Yes. I just had an incredible pain, but it passed,” she answered, as Molly giggled.
Josie rolled her eyes, but she didn’t press the issue.
The trip down was uneventful until they were within sight of Joe’s room. A man lunged from a side corridor at them. Kyla saw the movement and curled Molly behind her arms.
The two officers drew their weapons and aimed them at the new arrival from opposite directions.
“Get her in,” one of them ordered.
Matthew wasted no time. Josie crashed through the door to their right, holding it open as the others followed. Outside the door, Kyla could hear the challenge.
“I’m just trying to talk to her,” The man protested. “I’m press, man. Relax.”
“ID. Now.” The conversation dropped to a murmur for several minutes.
Kyla held her breath and waited. All of her muscles were tense.
“Get out of here,” the officer barked.
“It’s a public place.”
“Actually, it’s not. This hospital is owned by a private corporation, that doesn’t want you here. And, you’re harassing a private citizen. She could file assault charges, you know. You definitely made her fear harm.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Here comes security. Tell it to them.”
Kyla heard the reporter swearing as he
stalked away. She handed Molly off to Josie and pressed a hand over the strained stitches. Molly and the others were shaken up though unharmed, but Kyla felt sick at the thought of what might have happened.
The officer stuck his head in. “Everyone okay in here?” he asked.
Kyla nodded.
“I hate to say I told you so, but—”
She felt her temper start to burn. “I will not live my life in a plastic bubble.”
The officer nodded and led her the rest of the way to Joe’s door.
Joe was sitting up in bed watching for them. He let out his breath raggedly when he met her gaze. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Kyla reached out her hand as Matthew stopped the wheelchair next to the bed. She nodded, as Joe folded her hand into both of his. “He just surprised me,” she told him.
Joe ran his thumb over the back of the hand he held through the thick bandage. “No one does it twice.”
“Except Harris.”
“Not really. You saw him coming, but you kept thinking he couldn’t possibly be there. Besides, Harris was a special case.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”
Joe glanced from Kyla to Molly and back several times. “I don’t see the resemblance, but I hear it. You’ve been giving Molly lessons.”
“All my life,” Molly retorted.
His laughter was music to Kyla’s ears.
Joe looked at Matthew. “You really have your hands full, don’t you?”
“No, you do. I can ditch the other one in thirteen years. You’re stuck.”
“Daddy,” the two girls protested in unison.
The two men smiled at each other. Kyla knew they would get along. She was glad to see that she was right.
Joe looked back to Kyla, and he ran his hand down her jawline. “So, when are you going to marry me legally?”
“Do we have to pick a date today?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Your Dad’s request. He wants time to put it together.”
Kyla set her jaw. “Is that so?” she challenged her father.
“Well,” Matthew faltered. “Sort of. You guys plan it. I just want to make sure you get everything you want.”
Kyla looked at Joe. “I already have that.”
Joe smiled in response, a self-satisfied male grin.
“How long until you can actually walk down the aisle?” she asked.
“Five or six weeks.”
Kyla did some quick math. “July seventh sound good to you?” she asked.
“No. It sounds like a very long time, but I’ll deal with it.” Joe smiled. “So, what do you want?”
She laughed. “Simple and private. I’ll figure out the rest later.”
Molly cut in. “That man in the hall? Is that what life was like while you were gone?”
Kyla hesitated and erected a mental blockade. “Not usually, but it did have its moments.” Moments? Hours of it. Kyla couldn’t let Molly see what she was thinking. It wasn’t over yet.
* * *
The visit lasted an hour. Finally, a nurse hinted that Kyla needed to return to her own room. Melancholy struck immediately. Her own room was lonely, even with the link to keep her in touch with Joe.
Matthew glanced at his older daughter, then back at Josie. “I think we should give them a few minutes alone.”
“Why?” Molly asked.
“I want to kiss my husband,” Kyla sent to her.
“Because,” Josie explained as she led the little girl to the door, “sometimes grown-ups need a chance to talk to each other.”
“I like Kyla’s answer better,” Molly told her mother. She waved to Joe over her shoulder. “Bye, Joe.”
Joe waved back. When the door closed behind them, he turned back to Kyla. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Kyla sighed deeply. “I don’t want to go.”
Joe nodded. “I know. I’d rather have you here. I’ve gotten used to having you in my bed. I don’t like waking up without you, and I worry about you while we’re apart.”
Kyla reached out to touch his face, and he kissed her fingertips. “Why won’t they just let us room together?”
“Because they think we’re a more attractive target that way,” he explained.
She laughed. “They still don’t get it, do they? You’re only a target to get to me. Harris and his men are dead. Anyone else only wants me.” Kyla sobered. “Maybe we should stay apart until you’re on your feet again.”
Joe met her gaze. “We’re not going to go over that again, are we?”
Kyla shook her head. “No, I guess not.”
“Good.” Joe turned toward her, peeling her robe back to cast an appreciative look at her chest through the gown. He met her eyes with a heated look. “Oh, this was a good idea. I should have had Eric do this long ago.”
Kyla kissed him and ran her hand along his bare chest. It had been far too long since they had the chance to do this without an audience. Joe cupped her head with one hand, his mouth demanding.
The door opened, and Joe pulled her robe shut before it moved an inch. He didn’t release her mouth immediately. For that, Kyla was grateful.
Matthew peeked in. “Sorry guys, but this nurse is getting hostile.”
Kyla sighed. “It must be a nurse thing.”
“Ask her if Gram trained her,” Joe suggested.
“With my luck, she did.”
* * *
Kyla spent the rest of the afternoon alone. Television turned out to be an endless rehash of the facts and speculations about the last six weeks.
She couldn’t watch much of it. Her emotions swung wildly between amusement with more outrageous stories to anger at the outright incendiary fabrications to a deep sadness when the names of the dead were released. Pictures of grieving families were too much for Kyla. How could Cole have chosen men with young children to stock his crusade?
She knew the answer even as she asked the question. Cole believed his cause was ordained by God. Their success was guaranteed and their salvation not in question. The young men were less cautious and too young to have experienced war. The implied threat to their families’ souls seemed more tangible to them than the bullets that had ultimately killed them.
While Cole and Brian made formal statements to the press condemning their own actions via their lawyers, the religious leaders were in turmoil. Most of them were critical of the two men. Some actively preached for religious tolerance. All of them spoke out against hate crimes. A few insisted that the two men must be insane. No one claimed to believe they were right. Not publicly, anyway.
The link was a lifesaver, since she couldn’t talk to Joe in person or over the phone. Kyla discovered, when she decided to dial out to Sarah, that the phone was dead. She asked the nurse about it.
Anne shook her head. “We tried screening calls, but the volume was too high, so we simply unplugged the lines. As it is, we changed our automated message. It announces that no calls will be directed to you or Mr. Connor before they even get to an operator. Still, we turn away calls every hour.”
“Who’s calling?” Kyla asked.
“Who isn’t? The media, fans, well-wishers, detractors— The calls are pouring in. Tomorrow it will be telegrams, flowers, and cards.” Anne shrugged.
“Why?”
“You’re big news. I hear it hit the AP wire early this morning.”
Kyla shook her head. She hadn’t counted on this. “Can I make a press statement without seeing reporters?” she asked.
“I don’t know if it will help, but I can send the hospital’s PR man down. He can deliver a message for you.”
Kyla nodded. “I think I’d like that.”
* * *
Greg Robbins wasn’t sure if Kyla Keating was incredibly smart or hopelessly insane. The letter was brilliant, any way you looked at it.
A large group of reporters were assembled outside the hospital, complete with microphones and cameras. Flashes started before he even reached the podium. T
he murmur died down to a barely audible buzz.
Robbins cleared his throat and started to speak. “I have a statement from Miz Keating. She asked me to deliver it for her since she feels unequal physically and emotionally to the task of addressing you directly.”
He paused and unfolded the second draft of the letter Kyla had written. Robbins hadn’t changed much. It hadn’t been necessary.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know that you’ve traveled here in hopes of some contact with Joe and myself, and I regret to disappoint you, but we are both physically taxed and emotionally stressed at this point. I’m sure that none of you would begrudge us time to heal and a few days of peace and privacy to collect our thoughts and find our feet before being thrust into the center of this media maelstrom.
“I have also been told that well-wishers often send cards or flowers. Instead, we would ask that you make donations to aid the families of the victims of this tragedy and trust that we know of your hope and love without an outward sign of it. When I say victims, I don’t mean Joe and myself, but all those who lost their lives yesterday.
“We pray that you all live in peace and love.”
Robbins bowed his head, shocked to find that the tears in his eyes weren’t a fake. His voice broke as he continued. “That was all she wrote.”
A clamor flew up from the crowd of reporters. He picked the first question.
“Mr. Robbins, Samantha Allen and Stacie Miller had no family. Whom does she expect us to aid?” the female reporter asked.
“She said it clearly. All those who lost their lives. What those men did was an atrocity, but Miz Keating doesn’t want their families to suffer more than they already have. Some of those men had young children and wives. She feels for them.”
The crowd was absolutely silent for an instant. Robbins remembered his initial response when Kyla explained it to him.
Then, the clamor began again. Robbins pointed out a young man from Channel 11.
“Mr. Robbins, are you saying that she wants to help the bad guys?” He was cynical, and it showed.
“The bad guys are dead or in jail. She wants to help innocent women and children whose men followed a charismatic religious leader to their deaths.” It was harsh but true, and it was exactly what Kyla had said when Robbins questioned her.