She told herself that she wasn’t interested in knowing who had sent it. So she just sat staring at it, the blood pounding behind her eyes. She knew no tall blond man from Chicago. No one named Jacob other than her father. Except …
As if her hands belonged to someone else, she watched them tear open the flap. Inside was another envelope, cream-colored and legal-size, which she drew out with trembling fingers. She saw the insignia in the upper left-hand corner and the bold hand-printed name across the front. For a moment, she froze, unable to move. Then the letters swam in front of her eyes and she fought back the sudden nausea.
He’d found her.
Her father. She would recognize his handwriting anywhere. She dropped the envelope as if it had the power to burn and fell back on the bed, covering her face with her hands.
How long had she waited, hoped to hear from him after he’d shut her out? How many nights, while David still lived, had she lain awake wondering how her own father could turn his back on her? She’d needed him then. And it would have been so easy for him to help her. Instead, he’d refused. He wouldn’t take her calls, and her letters had come back unopened.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears came anyway.
Now this envelope. A lone message delivered by a stranger. What would she find inside? Accusations? Smugness? A reprimand? And then would he offer his help?
Now that it was too late.
She rolled over on her side, burying her face in her hands, and surrendered to tears. She cried for her father, who had sent a note after years of silence. She cried for Katie, who knew nothing of the legal system threatening to give her to strangers. She cried for David, whom she’d lost. And she cried for herself, because on top of everything else, she’d fallen hopelessly in love with a man who could destroy her.
When she opened her eyes sometime later, long shadows filled the room. She must have fallen asleep.
Her head felt somewhat better, though her eyes were gritty from crying.
Sitting up slowly, she saw the envelope on the floor where she’d dropped it. Once again, the name Maura, written in bold letters across the front, seemed to beckon from some other time and place. Leaning over, she picked it up. Nothing had really changed. She didn’t want to open it, but she really had no choice. She needed to know what her father wanted from her. What he expected.
And there was only one way to find out.
She carefully slit open the seal. Inside was a piece of her father’s stationery. The sight no longer had the power to surprise her. Sometime in the last few hours, she had come to accept the fact that he knew where she was. Now she felt only curiosity and fear. How had he found her? And who else knew about her?
The note itself was a disappointment. There was none of the frigid prose she expected. No condemnation or accusations. No threats. Only three short sentences, written in Jacob’s unique bold script.
“Maura. Contact me. I can help.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Alan parked the Jeep under the shadow of trees at the edge of the Simmons yard. Shutting off the engine, he turned toward Maureen. Neither of them had spoken on the way here, and an uncomfortable silence lay between them. Alan wished he could reach out and pull her into his arms. Maybe then they could talk, really talk. Maybe then she would stop lying to him.
Maureen started to get out, but stopped when he said, “I ran into someone Friday night whom you might know.” He hadn’t meant to bring up his encounter with Sam Cooper, though it had been on his mind.
Maureen visibly stiffened, then turned to meet his gaze. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Tall blond man.” When she didn’t respond he added, “Said his name was Sam Cooper. Do you know him?”
Maureen hesitated, and Alan saw the indecision in her eyes. “Sure,” she said. “I know him.”
“Where from?”
“Chicago. He’s a friend.” She lifted her shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance. “He stopped by Rita’s to see me, but I was working.”
“Funny.” Alan shifted his hat to shield his eyes. “I wonder why he said he didn’t know you.”
Maureen flinched but recovered quickly. “You must have misunderstood.”
Alan held her gaze for a moment longer and then shrugged. “Sure. I must have misunderstood.” He didn’t believe her. Not for a moment. But he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked, nodding toward the barn. No matter what else was going on, he didn’t like her being out here. “We could just leave.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not changing my mind. Besides, you’re forgetting I’ve been out here before—without an escort.”
“I’m not forgetting a thing.” Alan pulled off his hat and tossed it on the dashboard. “In particular, I’m not forgetting Bud Simmons.”
“Bud’s not here. And besides, you’re the one who told me he wasn’t dangerous.”
Exasperated, Alan ran a hand through his hair. “I said he didn’t abuse his boys. Make no mistake, the man is dangerous. I would think you’d understand that after his little display at Lynn’s the other day.”
“I’m just here to see Tommy—”
“Which Bud particularly warned you against doing.”
Irritation spread across her features. “Am I going to have to listen to you lecture me all over again?”
Sighing, Alan shook his head. “Would it do any good?”
“No.” Maureen got out of the Jeep and reached in the back to retrieve the bag she’d brought along. “Besides, if anyone gets Bud Simmons riled, it’ll be you.”
He just looked at her and shook his head. The woman was deluding herself. If Bud caught her out here again, there would be hell to pay.
“Remember,” she said, “you promised to stay put. And if Bud does show, don’t go stirring up things with him.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Alan propped one foot on the dashboard as if to emphasize the fact that he would wait. “Now, go on. Get this over with.”
He watched her walk toward the barn, wondering what he was going to do. She had him so tied up in knots he couldn’t think straight anymore. He hadn’t forgotten about her hair, nor did he believe her explanation. Not about the hair. And not about Cooper. That’s why he’d stayed away from her yesterday. He couldn’t decide what to do. He knew she was lying. He couldn’t say how, but deep down, he knew. Yet he also knew his feelings for her ran deep, and he wanted to think there was a logical explanation for her secrets.
She was halfway across the yard when he heard the shot, followed by an ear-splitting howl. Coming from the barn, the sounds echoed through the yard, shattering the mountain stillness. He sprang from the Jeep before the din died and raced across the yard.
“Stay here,” he shouted at Maureen, who’d dropped the bag to head toward the barn.
Alan stopped at the door, back against the wall, gun in hand. Maureen fell in next to him. “I thought I told you to stay put,” he said.
She didn’t answer but stood rigidly where she was. He threw her another exasperated look before edging around the door, trying to see into the dim interior of the barn. What he saw tore at his insides.
“Help us!” It was Joey, on the ground cradling his brother’s head in his lap. “Tommy’s shot.”
Alan dashed to the boy’s side.
Blood. There was blood everywhere—on the ground, on Joey’s hands, but mostly on Tommy’s leg. Ripping the boy’s jeans away from the source, Alan checked for the seriousness of the wound. Blood spurted in an all-too-familiar pattern, a pattern he’d seen far too often overseas. Yanking off his shirt, he pressed the fabric hard against the flow.
“What happened?” he asked Joey.
“He grabbed my rifle … and fell …” Joey could hardly get the words out.
“Where’s your pa?”
Joey shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t know.”
“It’s going to be okay, Joe,” Alan said,
trying to reassure him. Then he leaned over the injured boy. “Tommy, can you hear me?” Tommy’s eyelids fluttered open for a brief moment, and Alan thought the boy recognized him. Then they closed again.
“Damn,” Alan muttered. Grabbing Joey’s hand, he guided it toward the shirt he held against Tommy’s leg. “Here, Joe, hold this firmly in place. I need to stop that bleeding.” Unbuckling his belt, he yanked it off.
“No! Wait!” Maureen had followed him into the barn and crouched down on the other side of the injured boy. “Hold his leg, Alan. I need to get his boot off.”
“What are you talking about? His artery’s been severed. He’s going to bleed to death if I don’t stop it.”
“It may be only nicked,” she said, while her fingers probed the area around the bullet wound. “I need to see if there’s circulation in his foot.” She met his gaze, and the calmness in her eyes startled him. “I know what I’m doing,” she added, never taking her eyes from him. “If you want to save this boy’s life and his leg, I need to get his boot off.”
He believed her. Later, he couldn’t have said why, but something in her eyes, something in the steadiness of her voice and the way her hands moved so confidently on the boy, convinced him.
“Keep the pressure on, Joey.” Leaning down, he held Tommy’s leg while Maureen worked the boot off. Then he held his breath while she pressed her fingers against the pulse point of the boy’s ankle. Alan prayed she knew what she was doing.
“There’s still circulation,” she finally said. “Most likely, the artery’s only nicked. Alan, take over for Joey and put pressure on that wound. Joey, call for help. Then bring me blankets, clean sheets, and rags—tear up sheets if you have to—and water.”
“I can’t call!” Joey’s voice was near hysteria. “There’s no cell reception out here, and the house phone’s out. Pa ain’t paid—”
Maureen turned to him and grabbed both his hands. “Calm down, Joe.”
Joey nodded, but his eyes were wild, scared.
“I’ll go,” Alan said. “The boy’s—”
“I need you here.” Maureen’s voice remained calm but firm. “Joe’s going to be fine, aren’t you, Joe? And you want to help Tommy, don’t you?”
Taking a deep breath, Joey closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked calmer, steadier.
“Okay,” Maureen said. “What are you going to get for me?”
“Uh … blankets, clean sheets, rags …”
“Clean rags.”
“Yeah, clean rags. And water.”
“Good, now go on. Hurry!” Maureen gave Joey a slight push, and the boy raced out of the barn.
While they waited for Joey to return, Maureen worked over his brother. She loosened Tommy’s shirt, then rechecked his leg and the pulse in his foot.
As he watched her, a sharp realization sliced through Alan. She was too calm, too confident. Her movements too smooth, too efficient. She’d done this before, and it wasn’t something she’d learned in a six-week first-aid class. She knew what she was doing, and she was good at it.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “He’s going into shock.” Alan shifted his attention back to Tommy. The boy shivered despite the ninety-degree heat of the barn. And his face had a gray, clammy look to it.
“Where’s Joey?” he growled. He didn’t like being this helpless. “He’s taking too long.”
“He’ll be here.” Maureen brushed the hair from Tommy’s forehead. “Can you hear me, Tommy?” He didn’t respond.
“I should have gone.” Alan shot a furtive glance at the barn entrance. “Maybe—”
“How far’s the nearest hospital?” Maureen asked, once again pulling his attention away from Joey.
“Wenatchee. It’s a good hour and a half drive.”
Maureen shook her head. “It’s too far. We can’t risk it. What about a phone?”
“Jean Cellar’s place. Twenty minutes.”
“Can we get him airlifted out of here?”
He nodded. “The forest service has rescue helicopters. It’ll take them about thirty minutes to get here, though. Another thirty to get him to the hospital in Wenatchee.” He hesitated before asking the next question. “Is he going to make it?”
Maureen met his gaze. Despite her calm, he could see the worry, the fear. “I don’t know.”
“What about the bleeding?”
“The pulse in his foot is fairly strong, and the swelling isn’t too bad.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I think we’ve got the bleeding under control.”
“I’ll go as soon as Joey gets back.”
She shook her head. “No. I need you here. Let Joey go.”
“Joey can’t drive, he’s—”
“Alan, Joey’s no good to me. He’s too upset. Get him out of here. Send him for help.”
Before Alan could answer, Joey returned carrying blankets and sheets. “Will these do?” he asked. At Maureen’s nod, he added, “Okay, I’ll be right back with the water.” Then he raced off again.
Alan felt Maureen’s gaze on him, but he refused to look at her. He held Tommy’s leg, keeping the pressure constant, and thought about Joey.
“You’ve got to let him take your Jeep,” she said, as if reading Alan’s thoughts.
She was right, and he knew it. He could do more good if he stayed here with her and Tommy. Still, he hesitated—more for fear of Joey’s being unable to get help rather than the fact he shouldn’t be driving. Maureen wouldn’t believe that, however, so he kept his mouth shut.
When Joey returned with two jugs of water, Alan threw a glance at Maureen and then turned to the boy. “Are you okay, Joe?”
“Yeah.” Joey dropped down next to Maureen. “How’s Tommy?”
“We need to get help.” Alan held Tommy’s leg steady while Maureen unfolded a blanket and prepared to shift it under Tommy. “Take my Jeep and go to Widow Cellar’s—”
“What if she ain’t home?”
Alan paused, then took a deep breath. “Break in if you have to.”
“Alan,” Maureen interrupted, “let me hold his leg. You lift him up and Joey, shove this blanket underneath him.”
Tommy groaned when Alan lifted him, but in a matter of seconds, he was back on the ground.
Alan turned his attention back to Joey. “Call the station. Ned’s working the switchboard. Tell him we need a helicopter and Doc Readon. Got it?”
Joey nodded, his eyes bright and scared but steady.
“Anything else?” Alan asked Maureen.
“Make sure they understand he’s lost a lot of blood.”
Alan nodded. “Go on, Joe. My keys are in the Jeep.”
Joe shot one more worried glance at his brother and then tore out of the barn.
They waited for help.
Alan watched silently as Maureen tended the boy. She kept a constant watch on his pulse, checking every few minutes to make sure blood flowed to his foot. Then she would check his leg, explaining to Alan that she was looking for excessive swelling, a sure sign that the bleeding had started again or was internal. Occasionally, Tommy’s eyelids fluttered open, and she whispered soothing words while trying to get him to take a few sips of water.
Alan couldn’t ignore the facts. Maureen knew something about medicine. The knowledge was like a clamp, squeezing his heart till he thought it would burst. Lies. Everything about her was a lie. She lived them. And he had believed them.
Once more, he’d let this woman get to him, and here was the proof. The day Bud came into town, he had known she was lying—about a lot of things. Lies that indicated she was running from someone or something. He’d planned on demanding the truth that night.
Then he’d pulled her into his arms, and it no longer seemed important. He’d forgotten everything but how much he needed her, how much he wanted her. The only question he had forced himself to ask was about her hair, something she could easily explain away. A lie he could easily ignore. And then he’d met Sam Coo
per. Alan couldn’t shut his eyes anymore.
When the Jeep finally pulled up outside, he went out to meet it. Jean Cellar had been home and she’d called for help, then driven back with Joey.
Help arrived a few minutes later. Once again, Maureen took charge, giving directions to the paramedics as they loaded Tommy into the helicopter. There wasn’t room for anyone to go with the boy, so Alan drove Joey and Maureen to the hospital. Jean Cellar agreed to stay behind. She’d try to get hold of Bud and let Ned know that Alan was going on to the hospital in Wenatchee.
Maureen hated waiting. She’d never been a patient woman. But her impatience was nothing compared to how much she detested not knowing what was happening inside that operating room. She would have much preferred to be in there, assisting Doc Readon. Instead, she sat on a hard plastic chair in the waiting room, trying not to pace. She now understood what it was like to be on the other side of things. Never again would she take lightly a friend or loved one’s request for information.
At one point, Alan suggested she go home and get some rest. She’d looked up, surprised to see him there, and was shocked by the coldness in his eyes.
It hit her then. He knew.
Everything she had said and done since the moment she’d heard the shot had betrayed her. And he had seen. Her worst nightmare unfolded before her, and she had the strongest urge to take him up on his offer. Only she wouldn’t stop when she reached Wyattville. She’d pick up Katie and just keep on going.
She turned down his suggestion. Right now, Joey needed her and she would stay with him. Later, she would deal with Alan. And if she was lucky, she and Katie would still make that bus tomorrow morning.
After Joey’s initial rush of hysteria, he had shut down all emotions, following her orders without question. Now he sat like a dead man himself, stiff as a board, waiting to hear if his brother would survive. But when Maureen reached over and took his hand, he didn’t try to pull away.
“Do you want to talk?” she asked him after the three of them had sat there in silence for what seemed like hours.
Joey shook his head.
Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1) Page 19