Born in the Valley

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  And could he really be happy with having things his way, knowing he’d taken them at a cost to others?

  What else was his wife understanding that he wasn’t?

  Martha’s shriek had him spinning around. Her face was stark white, a complete contrast to the black slacks and blouse she was wearing. She was on her cell phone.

  He hadn’t even heard it ring.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Her fingers were shaking so badly she had trouble landing on the narrow Off button.

  “What’s up?”

  She stared at him, but didn’t seem to hear.

  “Martha?”

  “Tim was hurt sliding into home. They’ve taken him by ambulance to Phoenix.”

  He knew the way. And an idea of what lay ahead. “I’ll drive you.”

  With pinched cheeks and lips that were trembling, she nodded.

  KEITH CALLED Bonnie from Phoenix to let her know he wouldn’t be picking up Katie that afternoon. He called her again later that night when he returned to Shelter Valley, with Martha and Tim to let her know where he was in case of an emergency. He still hadn’t told anyone, including Martha, that he and Bonnie had separated.

  As far as he knew, she hadn’t, either.

  “He’s got a compound fracture of the left femur,” he told her, tired and yet oddly strengthened as he spoke to her from Martha’s house.

  Because Tim was thirteen and at that awkward age between adult and child, he’d opted to have Keith with him, rather than his mother, while they set and plastered his leg from just below the hip to his ankle.

  “Poor guy.”

  Keith had always loved Bonnie’s easy compassion.

  “It’s going to be rough for him tonight until the cast sets,” he continued. “He’s in a lot of pain.”

  “I can imagine. Did they give him anything?”

  “Yeah, but pills aren’t going to help him get to the bathroom, and even without the cast, he’s too heavy for Martha to handle.”

  And Tim was horrified at the thought of his mother taking him to the bathroom.

  “You’re staying there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will you be home in the morning? Before work?”

  “I’ll need to shower and get clean clothes. Why?”

  She took a long time to answer him.

  “No reason. Tell Tim I hope he feels better soon. Good night, Keith.”

  “Good night.”

  While he fought twinges of unwarranted guilt, Keith hung up the phone.

  And tried not to think too much.

  THE KIDS, including Tim who’d taken a pain pill just before midnight, were all asleep in their rooms. Keith wandered out into the living room, hoping to find a shot of something strong and found Martha, instead, going through the paperwork the hospital had sent home with her.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, smiling up at him. “You have everything you need?”

  “Yes. Fine.”

  She laid the folder aside. “I thought you’d already gone to bed.”

  He should have. If he was half as smart as he gave himself credit for, he would have.

  “I was hoping to find something that might help me sleep. I don’t suppose you have any bourbon around?”

  He didn’t normally drink the heavy stuff, but nothing about his life was normal lately.

  “Sorry.” Martha shook her head, sitting, feet tucked beneath her on the couch. “I got rid of everything when Todd left. I was too afraid one of the kids would get into it.”

  She asked if he wanted some warm milk, instead. He didn’t. Hands in the pockets of the slacks he’d worn to work, he wandered around the room, looking at pictures of Martha’s kids at various ages, reading the spines of books on the built-in shelf by the fireplace.

  “Did you call Bonnie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she angry?”

  Not sure how much to tell her, he didn’t answer.

  Martha stood, joined him by the bookshelf. “It’s okay, Keith,” she said, a hand lightly touching his shoulder. “You don’t have to stay. Tim’s asleep now, and he’s going to have to start letting me help him at some point.”

  “By tomorrow the cast will have set and he’ll be able to maneuver a lot more easily by himself.”

  “Still, if you need to go…”

  He faced her, wanting to tell her that Bonnie had left him, but he still shied away from the permanency implicit in those words. “I don’t.”

  It was late. They’d had a long, stressful day. But he couldn’t help noticing Martha’s attractiveness. She emanated such energy, an intriguing combination of vulnerability and competence. As though she could handle anything. And yet, needed so much more than she was getting.

  “What?” she asked.

  Keith realized he’d been spending far too long staring into those eyes that beckoned him with the promise of unconditional acceptance.

  “Nothing.” He didn’t turn away fast enough. “It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “You’re a damned attractive woman.”

  A slight tilt of her head was the only surprise she showed. “Thank you,” she said.

  And then neither of them said a word. Or looked away. Their heads slowly gravitated toward each other. Keith’s hands were tucked in his pockets when his lips met hers. And still there when their mouths opened, deepening a caress that had been a long time in coming.

  Slowly he pulled his hands free, lifted them to touch her shoulders, to draw her closer.

  “Stop.”

  With his hands in the air, Keith barely got the word out.

  Martha’s voice, uttering the same thing at the same time, was much louder.

  Bonnie had asked him about right and wrong. He’d just found the answer.

  For long seconds they stood there, a couple of feet apart, staring at each other.

  “Guess there’s no doubt about where that wasn’t going,” Martha said with a grimace.

  The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her.

  “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive….”

  She held up a hand. “I know,” she told him, her eyes warm. “Me, too.”

  They left it at that.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  HE AND MARTHA were the first ones up in the morning. A little self-conscious in his second-day clothes and beard, he sat down at the table and sipped a cup of coffee he didn’t really want while she made oatmeal and toast.

  “I can’t thank you enough for being here,” she was saying as she worked in the kitchen. “This was the first time there was nothing I could do to make myself as good as a dad would’ve been.”

  She looked cute in her sweatpants and T-shirt, her slim body only a little taller than Bonnie’s. “I was glad to be here,” he told her honestly. “It felt great to be needed.”

  He regretted the words as soon as he heard how they sounded. Just because the house was cozy and he felt wanted did not give him cause to think his most private thoughts out loud.

  Only intimate relationships permitted such actions.

  “You were a godsend,” his friend and employee said, facing him, letting him know right then and there that their lapse the night before was not going to change their relationship. “I’m just worried about how much sleep you lost. You have a full day at the studio.”

  He’d never seen her with her face scrubbed free of makeup. She looked fresh, wholesome, beautiful. Why in hell hadn’t some man latched on to this woman?

  “Tim was only up a couple of times,” he told her, though he had an idea she’d been fully aware of every move her son had made.

  But she’d been aware from a distance. The distance they both required.

  They’d had a close call.

  “Once to go to the bathroom. The other time, I think he just tried to move his leg in his sleep and the pain woke him up.”

  “You’ve made a horrible night bearable. Thank you.” She turned back to her break
fast. And Keith wanted to sit right there in her kitchen for the rest of his life.

  Or at least for a week or two. Long enough to regain some of the energy and confidence he’d lost.

  Martha buttered toast, set out plates and bowls, silverware, napkins and jelly. She looked cute.

  But she wasn’t Bonnie.

  KEITH CALLED BONNIE Friday morning. He asked if they could meet—alone—that evening.

  Bonnie had felt sick to her stomach ever since.

  He was going to tell her he wanted a divorce. That he’d fallen in love with Martha.

  And why not? The woman was gorgeous. Impressive. She took her hits and remained standing. If Bonnie were a man, she’d love her, too.

  Katie clung to Bonnie most of the morning. Their odd life was starting to take its toll on the child. Bonnie had nothing but patience for her daughter—and a day full of prayers that she’d somehow be able to protect her little girl from whatever heartache was to come.

  She went on with the plan she’d been working on since that Wednesday—when she’d set things straight with Shane—the day life had finally become clear to her.

  Life as Bonnie Nielson had to live it.

  Bonnie had, over the past ten days, become unshakably certain of what that meant.

  LONNA PRESENTED herself in Bonnie’s office during Friday’s afternoon playtime, just as her granddaughter-in-law had requested.

  “I need to talk to you,” Lonna said, taking a seat without waiting for an invitation. Her nylons rubbed against her light cotton slacks as she crossed her ankles, reminding her that she was one hell of a woman. Prepared. Confident.

  Bonnie had called this meeting, but Lonna was going to take charge of it.

  “Grandma, I have some news—” Bonnie began.

  “News can wait,” Lonna interrupted. “I have some things to discuss with you.”

  “I’m not up for a lecture,” Bonnie said with a tired smile.

  “Then it’s just as well I didn’t bring one with me.”

  Placing her purse on Bonnie’s desk, she leaned forward. “I want you to go into business with me.”

  “What?” Bonnie’s brows rose.

  Good. She’d taken the young woman by surprise. Distracted her from all her problems.

  Which was the point.

  Sometimes it took someone older and wiser, someone who wasn’t afraid to butt in, to make the world right.

  “I need to get rid of this blasted stomachache and you can help me do it,” she said.

  Perhaps she should feel guilty about manipulating Bonnie, but she didn’t.

  Not when the result was going to be the happiness her grandson and his wife couldn’t seem to find on their own.

  “How?” Bonnie asked slowly.

  Her brightly colored top and blue slacks looked nice on her.

  “You ever wear nylons?”

  “Um, no.”

  “You should.”

  “It helps your stomach?”

  “No. But it’ll help your sex life.”

  Lonna almost smiled when Bonnie blushed. Maybe later, when her mission was accomplished, she could enjoy that moment.

  “Shelter Valley needs an adult day care.”

  “It does,” Bonnie said.

  The idea had come to Lonna during the night. A way to help her friends and others without killing herself. And a new challenge for Bonnie to get her mind off whatever had gone wrong in her marriage.

  If Lonna hadn’t been so damned busy trying to convince herself she wasn’t old, she’d have seen it much sooner and saved them all a hell of a lot of misery.

  “Shelter Valley has a growing number of residents who can no longer be alone all day, but who still have a great quality of life ahead of them. If we don’t do something, they’ll end up leaving the homes they love and moving away to someplace that has senior-citizen facilities.”

  Lonna shuddered. For her, that would be a death sentence.

  “We have to open a Big Spirits day care,” she insisted.

  “You’re right.”

  “I want you to…” Lonna paused. Really looked at her granddaughter-in-law. Bonnie was smiling. “I am?”

  “Yep.” Leaning over her the desk, she handed Lonna a folder. “This is what I wanted to meet with you about.”

  Lonna opened the folder, looked over the pages inside and nearly wept. Bonnie had worked up an entire proposal, complete with drawings, financials, confirmed funding.

  “You’ve already heard back on the grant?”

  “Not the city one, but Becca assures me it’s merely a formality. I found some other sources available to us as long as we stay within certain guidelines.”

  “You’re proposing a dual facility.” Amazing. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  “Yep,” Bonnie said again. “Kids and adults right next door to each other, mingling. The kids will bring vitality and innocence and hope, and the seniors will contribute all the love and wisdom they’ve spent a lifetime accumulating.”

  “We can have bridge tournaments.”

  “Every day.”

  “And we’ll set up a craft room. We could do a holiday boutique, sell our stuff…” Lonna stopped, realizing that she was thinking of the benefits to herself.

  “It won’t just be for seniors, Grandma, but for anyone in Shelter Valley who wants to add another dimension to his or her life. That’s what the volunteer component is about.”

  Her gaze returning to the paperwork on her lap, Lonna nodded. “I see you have the volunteer program all planned out. I know Madeline would love to do reading time with the kids. And Dorothy, once she heals, will probably be asking to work in the kitchen. She always did make the best pies.”

  “There’s still a lot we’ll have to figure out,” Bonnie said, her face serious.

  Grandma waved her hand dismissively. “Red tape. We’ll plow right through it. I’ll bet we could be up and running before the end of summer.”

  “There’s something else you need to know, Grandma.”

  Lonna’s stomach tensed. She reached in her purse for one of the antacids her doctor had prescribed. “What?”

  “Keith and I might be filing for divorce. You need to be sure you want to go into business with an ex-relative.”

  Hogwash. She hadn’t lived for seventy-six years, fought for seventy-six years, to end up with more heartache than she could stand.

  “Let’s leave personal things out of it, shall we?” she asked. And though Bonnie tried several more times, Lonna left that afternoon without having the conversation Bonnie so obviously considered necessary.

  FIVE MINUTES past three that afternoon, a small explosion resounded from the three-year-olds’ classroom at Little Spirits. Bonnie’s desk chair flew behind her, crashing into the wall and toppling over, wheels spinning round and round as Bonnie sped down the hall.

  Children and teachers were rushing into the hall from every direction, some crying, some screaming. Some just running as fast as their legs could carry them. They crashed into each other, pushed past anyone they could, many heading in different directions.

  Nowhere, in all the chaos, did Bonnie see Katie.

  “Get the kids outside!” she hollered to a couple of the teachers. She couldn’t find Alice Grayson, teacher of the three-year-olds.

  Smelling smoke, she rushed on, frantic now to find her daughter. To know that none of the kids were hurt.

  She burst into the room, vaguely aware of smoldering by the finger-painting tables, but only vaguely.

  On the floor not far away, Alice Grayson knelt over something Bonnie couldn’t see. But she recognized the little piece of fabric she saw from around the toe of Alice’s tennis shoe.

  Katie’s shirt.

  AT SEVENTEEN MINUTES past three on the fourth Friday afternoon in May, Keith was alone in his office, trying to concentrate, to create an organizational plan while they were between semesters.

  At the moment, it didn’t seem to matter. Without Bonnie, nothing mattered.
Not Shelter Valley. Not his career or his home or any of the other things that had provided the stability his life needed.

  Relieved when the ringing of his phone interrupted work that was completely stalled, he answered it and leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing.

  And came down with a crash as soon as he recognized Bonnie’s voice.

  “Slow down, honey, I can’t understand you.” Standing, Keith willed her the strength to communicate with him.

  “Katie’s unconscious!” The words that followed were garbled.

  “Breathe, Bon. Breathe.”

  “I’m trying.” He could hear her gulping in deep breaths. “They’re with her now.”

  Blood flowing so fast he could hardly think, Keith assumed by they, she meant paramedics. Assuming…

  “Where are you?”

  “Little Spirits. There was an explosion in Katie’s room.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Throwing down the receiver, Keith was out the door, in his car and across town before he’d formulated a coherent thought.

  AN HOUR LATER Keith’s mind was still reeling, his heart calmer but fairly numb while he helped organize children, calm frantic parents who were arriving in droves after the phone calls Alice and a couple of volunteers had made, answer questions so that Greg and his team could do their work, and keep everyone and everything away from Bonnie, who was holding a very scared but uninjured Katie in a rocker in the nursery.

  They’d been very lucky the homemade bomb thrown through the window had not hit the floor another twelve inches closer to Katie or the little girl could have been seriously hurt—if not killed. As it was, the shock had knocked her unconscious; she had a bruise on her head from the fall but was showing no evidence of concussion. Her pupils were dilating as they should and all her vital signs were normal.

  And as soon as Keith found out who’d made that bomb, who’d thrown it, he was going to kill the bastard.