At Any Cost

by Lauren Nichols

  He took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and dumped it in the sink. Maybe the best thing for him to do was watch over her from a distance and leave the rest of it alone.

  If he could.

  * * *

  The day flew by. Beau picked up the sander, stained more trim and fixed the catch on Aunt Molly’s dated suitcase. Then, around noon, he and Jenna treated her to a pre-birthday celebration at the diner. A quick phone call to the bakery this morning had resulted in a huge, decorated sheet cake being carried into the diner just as they’d finished eating. He’d never seen Molly smile as brightly, especially when the entire lunch crowd started singing “Happy Birthday.” She’d insisted on taking cake around to everyone there. Now, the birthday girl was meeting with her faith-sharing group, and he and Jenna were entering the Charity Youth and Community center for her first self-defense class.

  Located in the middle of town on an offshoot of Main Street, it was a long, one-story yellow brick building with a brown hip roof, and sat just beyond the police department’s doors. Rumor had it that, decades ago, the stuffy town fathers had specifically chosen that spot after their first terrifying glimpse of rock and roll. If there was any rowdy behavior, they’d said, it was only a hundred yards to the nearest jail cell.

  “Well,” Beau said as they approached one of the larger meeting rooms and Jenna slipped off her jacket. “This is where we part company. Have fun.” He had to smile. She looked young, trim and pretty in her ponytail, soft purple tracksuit and white T-shirt.

  “I’ll do my best. You’re not going to hang around and check out the class?”

  “Nope, I’m going to find a chair, then read for a while.” He pulled a paperback out of his jacket pocket—Michael Connelly’s The Lincoln Lawyer. “Then again, this is a three-hour class. If I get tired of sitting, I’ll be back.”

  “Great. And Beau?” Her features softened. “Thank you.”

  He waved off her thanks. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

  * * *

  The twenty folding chairs in the room were arranged in a semicircle, with one chair in front, presumably for the instructor. Behind them, thick gray gymnastics mats that might’ve come from the high school lay end to end on the hardwood floor.

  Many of the chairs were already filled, so Jenna took a seat next to cute little brunette Mitzi Abbott, who was one of the younger waitresses at the diner. They talked about Mitzi’s college choices for a while, and how she’d feel about leaving slow-moving Charity for a city environment. Then Mitzi glanced around at the rest of their chattering classmates and dropped her voice.

  “Can I ask you something?” She went on before Jenna could reply. “This afternoon, when I was helping you folks take Mrs. Jennings’s birthday cake around to customers, one of the other waitresses—well, it was Patty Lorrigan—said you and Beau came in for lunch last week, too. So are you guys a couple now? I mean, I don’t want to be nosy, but…” She laughed. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “We’re friends,” Jenna answered. “Just friends.”

  She looked genuinely disappointed. “Really? Because Patty said—”

  She was saved from hearing what else Patty said when their slender, redheaded instructor came into the room.

  “Okay, everyone,” Megan Carlyle said after she’d introduced herself as a former mugging victim. “Before we get into self-defense techniques, I’d like to devote a little time to the dos and don’ts of staying safe.” She passed out folders to each of the attendees. “Inside, you’ll find a list of tips that could keep you from becoming a victim, but we’ll discuss a few of them, anyway.” She looked concerned. “I understand there was a serial killer operating here a while ago, so many of you will find the advice familiar.”

  After practicing extreme caution for two years, Jenna knew those dos and don’ts better than most people. Additionally, one of her two best friends had been immersed in the Gold Star Killer case. Margo McBride Blackburn had been chief of police at the time.

  “Okay, first and foremost,” Carlyle said. “Always walk in well-lit areas, and stay away from bushes, recessed doorways and other dark, potential hiding places. The night I was mugged, I was in a hurry to get home to watch my favorite TV show, so I took a shortcut through a park that was fairly well lit. Unfortunately, it was also beautifully landscaped. I ended up in the hospital for five days, and the dental bill for my four capped teeth was astronomical. All for a TV show.” She grinned wryly. “So please, be smarter about your safety than I was.”

  The lecture part of the class went on for another half hour, then they chose partners, and the defense techniques portion began. Jenna turned around when their instructor flashed a smile at someone in the back of the classroom—then felt her skin warm as Carlyle beckoned Beau forward.

  “Since everyone has a partner but me, I wonder if you’d like to help me out this evening, Mister—?”

  “Travis,” he said, coming forward. “Sure. What would you like me to do?”

  She laughed. “You can strangle me. Gently.”

  Sending Jenna a grin, he moved to the front of the room where Carlyle took his hands and placed them on her throat. She turned to the class. “Okay, now there are several things you can do in a situation like this, but let’s start with the simplest. Instinctively, you’ll try to pry your attacker’s hands away, but that’s not easy to do. Your best bet is to inflict some pain.” Reaching up, she peeled Beau’s little finger away from her throat and gave it a jerk. He winced.

  “Yank that little digit back as hard as you can—break it if you can. Your attacker can’t help but loosen his grip. That will give you one, maybe two seconds to grab his shirt and land three hard knee pumps where they’ll do the most good. Then run.”

  Soft laughter rolled through the class at Beau’s beleaguered look.

  “That’s the purpose of this class,” Carlyle went on sincerely. “To give you time to save yourself. Unless a woman is extremely strong or a trained fighter, she’s not going to win the battle with a man who’s intent upon doing her harm.” She looked around, her gaze resting on each of them. “Remember what I said earlier. Adrenaline can make you freeze. You need to make it work for you, not against you.”

  She smiled at Beau. “Thank you, Mr. Travis. Now if you’d like to stick around and be our guinea pig for a while, we’d love to have you.”

  With a doubtful look and a chuckle, he shook his head. “Thanks, but if it’s okay with you, I’ll just hang out in the back of the room and watch.”

  When the class ended at nine, Jenna said goodbye to her friends, thanked the instructor for an informative session, then walked back to meet Beau, who was holding her jacket. He helped her slip it on, then flipped up her collar. Tiny nerve endings reacted to his touch.

  “So what did you think?” she asked as they headed for the door.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “I think I’d think twice before tangling with your instructor. She’s lethal. And she’s right about the need to practice those defensive moves again and again—the way martial arts students do.” His brow lined. “God willing, you’ll never have to use what you learned tonight. But if the situation arises—and fear shuts down your mind—those automatic body responses could save your life.”

  “I know. I wish I’d taken this course two years ago.”

  “Same here.” He ushered her into the brisk night air, then halted abruptly when a gray van bearing a dry cleaner’s name and logo shot past them and sailed into the street. Beau shook his head in disdain, then they continued across the lot to his running truck. “Did you tell Ms. Carlyle that you might be a little late for class tomorrow?”

  “Yes. She was fine with it. Hopefully Aunt Molly’s flight will leave on schedule and I’ll—we’ll—get here on time.”

  “Then you’re enjoying it?”

  “Yes, it’s great.” Laughing, she quoted an old Helen Reddy song. “‘I am woman. Hear me roar.’”

  They were about to leave the lot when a Charit
y PD cruiser rolled up beside them and Fish lowered his window. Beau did the same.

  “Glad I caught you before you left,” Fish called. “I just came from the Blackberry. Ms. Jennings said you’d be here.”

  “Something going on, Fish?”

  “Nothing new. I just wanted to tell you that I spoke to Frank Killian. He wasn’t real happy with my questions, but he’ll get over it. Anyway, he’s got a handgun, but it’s a little .22, not a nine mil.”

  “No offense,” Beau said, “and I’m not telling you how to do your job. But did you look for other weapons, or just take him at his word?”

  With an uncomfortable look, he waved off Beau’s concerns. “I don’t think he shot up your sign, Beau. Frank even offered to take a polygraph—which are a lot more accurate these days.”

  Jenna saw Beau frown and imagined what he was thinking. “A lot more accurate” still left room for error.

  “What about the trouble at the Blackberry?”

  Fish shifted his attention to her. “Sorry, Jenna. Nothing on the BOLO yet. We’re still working on your hang-ups.” He let his wheels roll slowly as she and Beau both offered their thanks. “Just doing my job,” he said with a grin and a wave. “I’ll talk to you, soon.”

  * * *

  Aunt Molly had warm spinach balls and cream puffs waiting for them when they returned to the Blackberry—leftovers from her faith sharing meeting. Once Beau was seated with a cup of green tea—which he only accepted out of courtesy—she stared directly into his eyes.

  “Jenna tells me you’re still planning to sleep in your camper while I’m gone.”

  “Yes, I’ll bring it over tomorrow and park it near the side door. That way, if I have to leave for a while during the day to pick up something, it’ll still give the appearance that someone’s here with her.”

  Molly put down her teacup and harrumphed. “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. This home has two suites and four bedrooms with private baths. The idea of you sleeping in a tin box without an electric and water hook-up is utter nonsense. I want you to stay here at the inn.”

  Beau shook his head. “I can’t. Jenna doesn’t need any grief from the rumor mill. And believe me, she’d get plenty.”

  Molly’s determined look remained. “I admire your chivalry, but I believe I misspoke. If you don’t do as I ask, I’m not leaving. While you’re snoring away in that tuna can of yours, someone could sneak past you and get to my girl. I want you inside. As for people talking… My late husband had a saying. ‘If they’re talking about me, they’re leaving someone else alone.’ Jenny and I feel the same.” Smiling, she patted his hand. “Now why don’t you finish your tea, then go back to your house and pack?”

  “Aunt Molly,” Beau said in exasperation. “It’s not going to happ—”

  The phone rang. Leaving the two of them to argue, Jenna went to the foyer to answer it. The voice on the line was warm, friendly and feminine, and it belonged to Revered Landers’s wife.

  “Jenna, it’s Miriam Landers. Please forgive me for calling so late.”

  “Not a problem, Miriam. We’re still up. How are you?”

  “Fine, but I’m afraid I’m in need of a huge favor.”

  “Of course. Just name it.”

  “Is there any chance you have a room available for the next few days? My cousin Bernice is coming in for mine and Paul’s fiftieth wedding anniversary dinner and staying through Thanksgiving Day. With everyone else here for the celebration and the holiday, our home—and our daughter’s—is practically bursting at the seams. Originally, Bernice said she couldn’t make it. Then she called a few minutes ago and said her plans had suddenly changed. She’s driving up from Lancaster tomorrow.”

  Jenna winced. Of all people to have to turn away. “I’m so sorry. The inn is closed until Christmas week. Beau Travis is doing some carpentry work for us.” She didn’t see any need to mention ants or razor blades. “Have you tried the Tall Spruce?”

  “No, but our son did, and they’re full. Bernice just needs a place to sleep, Jenna. She wouldn’t even need breakfast because she’ll be eating here with the rest of us. And I’m sure Beau won’t be hammering all night.”

  “No, but—”

  Gentle steamroller that she was, Miriam pressed on. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do for us? Bernice introduced me to Paul. I’m afraid there wouldn’t be a fiftieth anniversary to celebrate if it hadn’t been for her.”

  Jenna hid a sigh. It was time to come clean. “Miriam, I’d let her have a room free of charge if there wasn’t another problem. A few days ago we found some ants in the kitchen. We believe they’re just a bad memory now, but I can’t be positive. I wouldn’t want your cousin to be upset if she encountered—”

  Miriam laughed softly. “Bernice lives on a farm. Believe me, a few ants won’t put her off in the least. Thank you and God bless you, honey. She won’t be any trouble at all.”

  Aunt Molly was still browbeating Beau when Jenna reentered the room. “Well, the problem’s solved,” she said to the two of them. “I just booked a guest through Thanksgiving Day.”

  “You booked a guest?” Molly repeated, startled.

  Jenna nodded. “Free of charge.”

  When she finished explaining about Bernice Gates’s sudden need for a room, Molly chuckled softly. “You say her plans changed suddenly?”

  “Only moments ago, according to Miriam.”

  Aunt Molly beamed. “Well, now. It seems the Lord wants me to go to Connecticut.” She winked at Beau. “And He apparently wants you to sleep in a decent bed.”

  It was nearly eleven when Beau said good-night and carried his duffel bag upstairs to the room he’d used the night before. Closing the door, he tossed his pack on the Rose Room’s sky-high faux featherbed. He still felt uneasy about staying inside—but not for himself. He’d gotten used to gossip a long time ago. He just didn’t want Jenna’s name on every rumor-mongering tongue in town. He glanced skyward. “Take care of that, will You?” he whispered.

  * * *

  Jenna crossed her dark room to the window looking out on the lighted gazebo and stared at the glistening snow. Beau had been wonderful tonight, getting all strong and protective when he saw the vehicle tracks leading up the inclined drive to the Blackberry, then telling her to sit tight until he checked things out. There’d been nothing to worry about. One set of tracks had belonged to Fish, which they’d known. The other set was Elmer Fox’s. Elmer had stopped by with a few of those promised daguerreotypes. As soon as Bertie at the historical society picked the prints she wanted, he’d be dropping off a few more.

  Now as Jenna looked out on the still night, something she’d been denying for days settled in with a mixture of happiness and uneasiness. She’d fallen in love with Beau, and she was fairly certain he cared about her, too. Maybe it wasn’t love…but it could be.

  “He’s the one, Lord,” she murmured. “But there are so many reasons I shouldn’t let myself hope for a life with him.” Only one of those reasons weighed heavily on her mind tonight, however. “He deserves everything wonderful life has to offer. A real home and a loving family. But even if You see fit to take away the fear in my life, and somehow he does want to be with me…” She swallowed. “What if I can’t give him a child?”

  * * *

  Because of construction traffic they arrived at the small Dubois Regional Airport a little later than they’d planned, but still made it with a half hour to spare. Jenna smiled as Beau lifted Aunt Molly down from the front seat, then took Jenna’s hand, too, though they both knew she didn’t need any help. Minutes later, they’d crossed the lot to the buff-colored brick terminal and joined other commuters in the airport’s restaurant.

  It had been a busy morning. Miriam Landers’s cousin Bernice had arrived shortly before lunchtime, and with a bright smile, she’d exclaimed that the small turret room would do beautifully for her. She’d also reiterated that she wouldn’t be needing breakfast. Jenna assured her that she was w
elcome to change her mind anytime and hoped that Bernice’s presence would finally put Beau’s “gossip” reservations to rest.

  The flight deck was an open, high-ceilinged affair with an L-shaped lunch counter and some nice aeronautical touches—like the airplane mobiles suspended from the ceiling, and the historical photographs on the wall.

  Settling at a table, they ordered hot drinks, then talked about the sitting room’s restoration and Jenna’s self-defense classes. Aunt Molly alone brought up the elephant in the room. Strangely, though, her tone was almost cheerful.

  “Now if anything happens while I’m gone, I expect a phone call. I don’t want to be ‘out of the loop,’ as folks say nowadays.”

  Jenna shook her head. The last thing she’d do if “anything happened” was call and ruin her aunt’s vacation. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “You never know about these things,” Aunt Molly replied, a baffling twinkle in her eyes. “Emma Lucille could finally get through ‘Amazing Grace’ without hitting the wrong keys or Elmer Fox could win the lottery.” She pushed her teacup away. “A nice-looking couple might even wake up one morning and see that they’re perfect for each other. Why, by the time I get back, they might even be engaged.”

  Mortified, Jenna prayed for the floor to swallow her up.

  Beau simply gestured through the plate glass wall at an approaching private plane. Though sunset was still a good half hour away and cloud cover was minimal, the afternoon light was fading. “Fine-looking plane out there on the runway, isn’t it?”

  Aunt Molly sighed. “All right. A house doesn’t have to fall on me. I’ll behave.” She turned to Jenna. “Now, promise me you’ll phone if anything out of the ordinary happens, because I can come back home immediately. Millie will understand.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just have a good time, and don’t worry.”

  “I’ll try not to. Oh—and don’t forget the Fruitcake Fling tomorrow afternoon. It starts at one o’clock.”

  “I won’t.”