by Paula Stokes
“I’ll wait for you out here,” Holden says. “Give you some time with your mom.”
“Thanks.” I shoot him a grateful look.
Margaret presses a plate on the wall and the wooden doors leading back into the emergency department open.
I follow her through them. “Is my mom going to be okay? You guys got all her records about her cancer treatments, right?”
“We do. It’s all in the computer,” Margaret says.
“So she’s awake? How’s she doing? The police couldn’t even tell me where she got shot.”
“She was shot one time, and the bullet passed cleanly through the leg. Honestly, it was more of a graze than an actual hit. A lot of blood, but no damage to muscles or other structures.”
“So that’s good, right?”
“Yes. It means she won’t need surgery. She might not even need to spend the night, but I believe the doctors are planning to keep her for observation and watch for bleeding issues, due to some of the medications she’s on.” Margaret pushes open a door marked TRAUMA. There are three beds inside. Two of them are empty. Mom is in the one closest to the wall.
My lower lip starts trembling when I see that she’s sitting up. Aside from looking a little tired, she looks fine—she’s actually reading the same blood pressure pamphlet as Hutchens was reading out in the waiting room. Her right leg is wrapped in gauze from the knee to the middle of the shin.
“Brought you a visitor, Ms. Woods,” Margaret says. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station doing some charting. Just give me a buzz on the call light if you need me.”
“Embry!” Mom’s face melts into a smile. She drops the pamphlet onto the bed. “Oh, don’t cry, kiddo. I’m okay.”
I try to swallow back a sob, but it’s too late. Tears are streaming from my eyes. I hurry to her bedside. She scoots to one edge of the mattress so I can crawl in next to her. “I was so worried,” I choke out.
“I’m sorry, honey. My battery died and they wouldn’t let me borrow a phone until after they finished messing around with my leg. I tried to call you, but it went straight to voice mail. Is your battery dead too?”
“My phone got wet,” I say. “Long story, but I think it’ll be okay. What about you? Did you see who shot you?”
Mom shakes her head. “I don’t even know what direction the bullet came from. It was so weird. I felt the pain in my leg before I even heard the gun go off. I didn’t connect the two at first. The noise came from down on the beach and the wind muted it a little. I thought maybe a boat had run aground or something. Then when I realized I was bleeding, I couldn’t call anyone because my phone was dead, so I was trying to walk home when I collapsed. And then Lourdes found me.”
I wrap my arms around my mom’s neck and rest my forehead on her shoulder. The tears are still streaming from my eyes. “God, I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you.” I lift my head and swipe at my face with one hand, but it’s hopeless. The tears just keep coming.
“I’m fine, Emb,” Mom says. “Really. The doctors say I might even be out of here in time to see you get honored at the holiday party tonight. You know, you’ll be the first in our family to receive a Rocky Award.”
“Ugh, Mom. Do I really have to go to that? Rewarding me for being dumb enough to go in a burning building would set a terrible example for kids.”
Mom clucks her tongue. “You are so bad at taking a compliment. You totally get that from me, in case you were wondering. Your father always seemed to love having praise heaped on him.”
Her words remind me of a different fear that’s been niggling at the corners of my mind lately, ever since I got the Christmas card with money in it. “Speaking of my father,” I say slowly. “Be honest. Why have you been pushing me to talk to him after all these years?”
“Because he’s your dad and he seems to be showing a real interest in getting to know you.”
“Now? When I’m almost eighteen?”
“Well, he did sign away his rights. He probably feels like now he can approach you without worrying about how I’ll respond.”
“What a hero.” I scoff. “What if I don’t believe you? What if I think you’re worried about your cancer coming back? You’re trying to get me to talk to him so that I won’t be all alone in case something happens to you, aren’t you?”
My mom’s expression softens. She reaches out for my hand. “Well, I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t crossed my mind, sure.”
“Then you should have told me that.” I huff. “Stop keeping things from me because you’re trying to protect me. Trust me, all it does is make things worse.”
“You’re right,” Mom says. “So far all my scans are clean, but my oncologist was realistic about the chances of the cancer having spread, or the chances of developing a different cancer someday. I feel good—hopeful even—but my number one concern is to make sure that no matter what happens, you’ll be taken care of.”
I sniff. “That’s funny.”
“What’s funny about it?”
“My number one concern is that you’ll be taken care of.”
“It’s not your job to take care of me,” Mom says sternly.
“Agree to disagree,” I reply.
Mom wraps me in a hug. “I didn’t mean to keep stuff from you. I just didn’t want you to worry. And in fairness to your dad, he has contacted me repeatedly, asking if I thought you’d be willing to see him. And he asked my permission before sending you the card and money.”
“Okay. I’ll think about talking to him. And I need to come clean with you too. I’ve also been keeping secrets, and I’m afraid—” My voice cracks. “I’m afraid one of them might be the reason you got shot.”
“What? Oh, Embry, this wasn’t your fault. It was probably just a stray bullet from stupid kids trying to shoot seagulls or something.”
I shake my head. Suddenly, I’m crying again. The weight of everything comes crashing down on me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’ve been being blackmailed. The messages threatened to hurt someone I love, so I was planning to go to the police last night, but then things got kind of messed up and I didn’t make it there until this morning. And that’s when I found out you were here.”
“Blackmailed?” Mom asks. “Honey, what are you talking about?”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock on the door and Officer Hutchens enters. “Mrs. Woods?” he asks.
“Ms. Woods,” my mom corrects.
I look back and forth between my mom and the police officer, both frustrated and relieved by the interruption. I wipe hurriedly at my eyes.
Hutchens slides a chair up near the bed and takes a seat so he’s eye level with my mom. He clears his throat. “I’m Officer Alan Hutchens from the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department. I’ve been assigned to your case. We’ve got a team combing the beach for any evidence of the gun or shooter, but we’d like to get a statement from you on anything you might have seen.”
“Sure,” Mom says. “I don’t know how helpful I’m going to be, though. I didn’t see much.”
Hutchens nods. “We’ll be talking to everyone who lives or works in that area to inquire about whether they saw anything.”
“I’ll let you guys talk.” I swallow back a yawn. “I’m going to go track down a cup of coffee.”
“Okay,” Mom says. “We’ll probably only need a few minutes.”
I return to the waiting room right as Holden comes back from the cafeteria, a coffee in each hand.
“Thought you might need a little pick-me-up.” He holds out a paper cup, a couple of sugars and creamers balanced on the lid.
“Thanks. It’s like you read my mind.”
“Well, I know you haven’t had much sleep.” Holden yawns. He’s had even less sleep than I have.
I sink down in the same chair as before and add the sugar and creamer, swishing the cup back and forth a couple of times to mix everything up. I take a tentative sip, waiting to see how the coffee will mix with the emotions
swirling inside me. My stomach is doing that shoes-in-a-clothes-dryer thing again, and the last thing I want to do is vomit in the middle of the ER waiting room.
“So how’s your mom?” Holden sips his own coffee.
“She’s doing okay. The bullet passed straight through her leg, so she didn’t need surgery. The nurse said it was more of a graze.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Did she see anything?”
“No. It was still dark and she thinks the shot came from down on the beach and you know how pitch-black that gets. Officer Hutchens is getting her statement right now.”
Holden’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He digs it out and glances at the display. He taps at the screen. “Hello?” He pauses. “I see. Awesome. Do you know when?” He hops up and paces back and forth across the tiled floor. “Well, I’m glad this will be over soon. Thanks for keeping me posted.” He hangs up the phone and turns to me. “That was Detective Alina Reyes from the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department.”
“And?”
“Apparently the computer lab has a camera at the front of the room that ought to give us a clear view of whoever sent the email. They’re working on getting security footage from Tillamook Bay right now. Once they get it they’re going to have me come in and watch it, see if I recognize anyone.” He bends down and takes my hands in his. “Embry, this is almost over. Once they have that video footage we should be able to identify Unknown.”
Thirty-One
“HOLDEN, THAT’S AMAZING. WE’RE SO close! How long until the cops have the security footage?” I ask.
“Sometime today, she said. Or the day after Christmas at the latest.”
“I hope it’s today.” I slump back in my chair and exhale a sigh of relief. “I just need for this to be over. I want this psycho locked up where they can’t hurt anyone else.”
“Does that mean you want to wait until the police get the footage to talk to them?” Holden asks, sitting next to me again.
“We might as well.” I lower my voice. “But I still want to tell the truth. Unknown has done some terrible things, but they didn’t cause the fire. I need to take responsibility.”
Holden nods. “We need to take responsibility.”
When Officer Hutchens finishes talking to my mom, I hop up from my seat and stride toward the ER doors. As long as her nurse stays out of the room, I’m planning to take up right where we left off in our conversation. Maybe there are clauses in the law that protect a person’s business from being seized in a lawsuit. Maybe we can file for bankruptcy and not lose our house. I don’t know enough about legal stuff to know what’s possible, but what I do know is that I should have told my mom the truth from the start.
But when I get back to the trauma area, my mom is curled on her side, her eyelids drooping. She yawns. “I think they gave me some really good drugs,” she murmurs.
Figures. It’s like the whole world is conspiring against me doing the right thing. “Do you want me to let you rest?” I ask. “I guess we can talk later.”
“Would you mind? I forgot what we were talking about, but I feel like it was important.” She furrows her brow.
I sigh inwardly. I don’t know if it’s fatigue or the pain meds she’s getting, but she’s in no condition to have a serious conversation. “It was no big deal,” I say. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“You should go home and get some sleep too,” Mom says.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I say. “Maybe I can nap out in the waiting area.”
“Someone needs to be there to take care of Betsy,” she says. “I’ll be fine here. You can come get me later or tomorrow.” She frowns. “I’m going to need you to call a few people who ordered Christmas cookies and let them know I’m not going to be able to fill their orders. There are some last-minute orders that l didn’t get finished.”
As much as I don’t want to leave my mom’s side, I also don’t want to alienate any of the café’s customers. We can’t afford to lose them. “I can finish the orders,” I say. “I think you’ve got Matt and Kendra working and it probably won’t be busy except for people picking up cookies, so I can go in and knock them out in a few hours.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Mom yawns again.
I nod woodenly, even though it’s not true. “I’d better go let Betsy out like you said.” At least I can be a carpet saver.
“I’ll call you once I know when they’re going to release me.” Mom reclines back on her pillow. “Sorry, my eyelids feel like anvils all of a sudden.”
“It’s okay. Get some rest.” I head for the door to the trauma bay. I pause at the threshold and turn back for a second. “I love you, Mom,” I say.
But she’s already asleep.
Holden takes me home on the motorcycle and follows me inside the house. I’m still worn out from my near drowning and brush with hypothermia, and I don’t even know how he’s functioning since he hasn’t had any sleep at all.
I let Betsy out, and the two of us stand in the kitchen and watch her through the back window. After we let her back in, Holden says, “Come on, you. Let’s get some rest.” He tugs me toward my bedroom.
I shake my head. “I have to go to the café. I told Mom I would knock out some last-minute cookie orders.”
“Fine. But it’s not even open yet. You have time to sleep for a couple hours. I’ll wake you at ten.”
“Okay.” My face feels tight from my swim in the ocean, and my hair is twisted into a wet bun. I should take a shower and try to untangle it, but I’m just too tired.
I follow Holden back to my room and crawl into my bed. He slides under the covers next to me. I rest my head on his chest and wrap one arm across his slender waist. He caresses my back gently, his fingers slipping beneath my shirt to my bare skin beneath.
Even though I’m exhausted, a wave of pleasure rises up from his touch. It seems wrong to feel good right now, but at the same time, I could really use a break from reality. Maybe I can’t fix things, but I can escape them, at least for a little while. I press myself tighter against Holden, will his fingers to keep exploring my flesh.
With one hand, he tilts my chin upward so we’re looking at each other. His eyes are like the ocean during a storm. I reach up to trace the bones of his face with my fingertips. He brushes his lips against mine. Softness. Heat. The hellish morning starts to fade away as Holden’s mouth finds mine again.
I arch against his body and turn my head to expose more of my neck. I want this—I want him—so much. But then my eyes land on my nightstand, on the Shutterfly book Julia made for me. My body goes tense. How can I do this when so many people have been hurt? How can I even think about doing this? It’s not right.
“What is it?” Holden murmurs into my ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you ever wonder if we’re bad for each other?” I blurt out.
“Why? Because our sex literally burned down a building? It was an accident, Embry. When are you going to stop blaming yourself?”
“It wasn’t just an accident. We were trespassing. We were drinking illegally. We could both go to jail.”
“We could. But none of that affects how we feel about each other. Nothing has changed, except now we can actually be together. Now I can finally tell you that I lo—”
“Stop.” I slide out from beneath him, my whole body shaking. “How can you say nothing has changed? We almost killed someone. You were being investigated for child pornography. A deranged stalker is threatening the people I love. You could have been seriously hurt when we went back to the Sea Cliff. My mom is in the hospital.” I sit up in bed. “And none of those things would have happened if we’d just stayed away from each other.”
Holden rakes his hands through his hair. “Avoiding risks and locking yourself away from people isn’t the answer. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
I wince. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not pushing him away because he’s bad for me. Maybe I’m pushing him away because I’m scared of what might happ
en if he stays. He almost said something that would’ve changed everything. I still haven’t figured out if what I’m feeling for Holden is love, but hearing him say it isn’t going to help me. It’s just going to add more pressure.
“I don’t know if I can handle any additional risks right this second,” I say.
“Okay,” Holden says slowly. “So then do you want me to go home?”
“No,” I say, “but I can’t let myself get lost in you while Unknown is still out there.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’m worried that if Unknown finds out my mom is okay, they’ll go after someone else.”
“Well, your mom is protected right now, and Julia is probably with her parents. And I can handle it if this asshole comes after me. But I guess Luke’s back in town now, right? Have you told him about any of this?”
“What?” My body folds in on itself. Hearing Luke’s name from Holden’s lips cuts like a knife. I still haven’t gotten a response to my breakup email. “As far as I know, he’s still in Afghanistan. Why would you say he’s back in town?”
“I’m pretty sure I saw his car when I was working at the gas station yesterday.”
“And you didn’t mention it until now?” Luke drives a red Mitsubishi convertible with oversized tires and the vanity plate ORILEY4. I don’t know jack about cars and even I would recognize it, so if Holden says he spotted it then he probably did.
Holden shrugs. “I was worried about us getting arrested. And then it slipped my mind when we almost drowned and then found out your mom had been shot.”
“Shit, Holden!” I almost screech. “If he’s here, I need to warn him. He might be Unknown’s next target.” I dig the Ziploc bag with the silica gel packets out of my purse. I slide the battery back in and the screen lights up. I send Luke a quick text.
Me: Hey, if you’re back in Three Rocks, please call me. It’s important. You might be in danger.