Ever Hopeful

by Lori Ryan

  Ever Hopeful

  Book One in the Evers, Texas Series

  By Lori Ryan

  Copyright 2013, Cara Shannon.

  All rights reserved.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others in any form.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to people, places, persons, or characters are all intended as fictional references and are the work of the author.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Laura watched the clock on the microwave and willed the phone to ring. Patrick would be home within the hour. If “John Smith” didn’t call soon, she’d…. Well, she didn’t know what she’d do. If he called after six o’clock, she’d have to try to convince Patrick it was a wrong number.

  He wouldn’t fall for that. Even genuine wrong numbers had gotten her into trouble before.

  “Please,” she whispered aloud to the phone. “Just ring, please.”

  The numbers on the microwave stared back at her, blank and unfeeling. Twelve minutes past five. The clock apparently didn’t care that time was running out, that she was cutting this much too close.

  Forty-eight minutes left. Laura’s heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest as she cradled her head in her hands. The phone rang, causing Laura to jump a foot in the air at the sound. How was it that a sound she was waiting for—hoping for—sent her into a panic?

  “Hello,” she said breathlessly into the phone.

  “Mrs. Kensington?” came Smith’s voice on the other end. She had talked to him before, but hadn’t met with him in person. He sounded kind, even though she knew he was a man who spent a lot of time with unsavory people. But, that was to be expected given his profession. Despite that, she’d been told he often worked with women who needed to leave a spouse and who wished not to be found again. Maybe there was an empathetic side to him.

  “Yes, speaking.”

  “Can you talk now?” he asked and she knew right away what he meant. He had never asked why she was leaving and she certainly hadn’t volunteered the information, but it seemed as if he knew without having to ask. Just the thought that he knew her secret made her uncomfortable.

  “Yes, my husband is still at work, but I don’t have long.”

  “Did you get the first package?” he asked. He had mailed it to a post office box she’d set up two towns over from her and Patrick’s home in Windsor, Connecticut.

  “Yes, the temporary license and birth certificate.”

  “Good. You’ll be able to use that for a little while, but I need to get you a real birth certificate and social security card if you want to be able to find a job that doesn’t pay under the table. That’s going to take time.”

  “How much time?” Laura asked, wanting the answer to be days, not weeks or months, but she knew that was unlikely.

  “Not for another few weeks. It takes time to get a real birth certificate and once that’s in place, it takes a little longer for your social security number to come through,” he said with the tone of a man who had explained all this to her before. He had. She was partly just nervous and partly hoping for a different answer this time. This just had to work. There wasn’t any other option.

  Before Laura could answer, he continued with instructions. “Save this phone number. I’ll need you to call me in three weeks and let me know where you are. I’ll need a mailing address.” There was no talk of payment. She’d already paid in full just to get him started on the new identity for her. He also didn’t ask her when she was leaving and she didn’t tell him. He seemed to assume she wouldn’t be in town in three weeks time and he was right. Laura would be running next week, as soon as Patrick left on his business trip.

  The sound of car tires crunching up the drive sent panic churning through Laura’s stomach. So much so that she thought she’d be sick, but that wasn’t unusual nowadays. She was nauseated for several hours every day and often had to run to the bathroom to be sick.

  “I have to go,” Laura whispered and didn’t wait for a response. She tucked the phone in her pocket and turned to the stove, focusing on making her breathing normal, making sure nothing seemed out of place.

  She had laid out every ingredient of the stir-fry that she would cook that night for dinner. Everything was diced and chopped and ready to go. Patrick didn’t like his dinner to be ready before he arrived home, but he wanted it cooked immediately after his arrival. And, it had better be fast. Laura checked off each ingredient in her mind while she waited for the sound of Patrick’s key in the lock.

  It didn’t come. A moment later the doorbell rang, and nothing could have prepared Laura for what she saw when she looked through the etched glass panes at the side of the front door.

  Police? What are the police doing here?

  Two young officers stood on Laura’s steps but neither made eye contact when she opened the door. Laura swallowed the unease that filled her and smiled at the men in front of her. They were probably just collecting for a charity or an event of some sort. Not that people ever showed up on their doorstep to solicit funds—that was all handled through a family foundation—but what other reason could there be?

  “Can I help you, officers?”

  “Ma’am.” The older of the two—though not by much—took off his hat as he addressed her. “Are you Mrs. Laura Kensington?” he asked, as though that were necessary. Laura’s face was well known.

  The first tiny fingers of fear ran up Laura’s spine. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”

  “Would you mind if we came in and sat down, ma’am?” he asked, flashing his badge. He paused until Laura nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider to allow the men to step through. They followed her to the sitting room and sat on the couch that she gestured to.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked, not at all sure she wanted to hear why they were here. She had given the housekeeper the afternoon off to ensure she had privacy for her phone call. Now, it seemed odd not to have someone hovering over her to take care of all of the niceties and polite offerings.

  “No thank you, Mrs. Kensington. We’re here about your husband, ma’am,” said the older officer. The younger o
fficer had yet to speak and still carefully avoided her eyes. Laura wished the older one would stop calling her ma’am. At twenty-five years old, it seemed more appropriate for her mother-in-law.

  My husband?” Laura echoed, turning it into a question. Her mind whirled as she tried to figure out what could be happening. Why would the police be here about Patrick? What could the police possibly want with Patrick?

  “I’m afraid your husband has suffered a heart attack, ma’am,” the officer said. “His business partner found him in his office about an hour ago and tried to revive him.”

  Laura’s hands shook so hard, she had to fold them in her lap and grip one over the other to hold them still. “Tried to revive….” Her voice trailed off as the implication of what the man had said began to seep through the confusion in her head.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kensington, but your husband didn’t make it.”

  The breath whooshed out of Laura’s body in one swift motion, but no new breath seemed to want to fill her lungs. The shaking in her hands only increased and she felt lightheaded.

  She sucked in a breath and tried to steady herself. “Patrick?” She couldn’t finish the thought. Patrick is dead. The tears that welled in her eyes weren’t tears of anguish or sorrow, or anything else that a wife should feel for her husband.

  They were tears of sheer and utter relief. After three years of terror, of never knowing what would happen to her, of walking on eggshells—after a month of planning her escape from the monster she’d married—he was gone. Laura tried to choke back a sob but it came out in a rough moan, wracking her body as relief and shock tore through her.

  It’s over. Could it really be this simple?

  Clearly, the officers assumed she was upset by the news of her husband’s death, and offered to call someone to come be with her when she went to the hospital to identify his body. Laura couldn’t blame them. That would be the natural assumption when telling someone their spouse had died.

  “Ma’am,” the officer repeated, “is there someone you’d like us to call before we take you over to the hospital? Or is there someone you’d rather send in your place? Another family member, maybe?”

  Laura shook her head and stood, shakily, from the couch. “No. I just need to get my purse,” she said. She needed to go to the morgue. She needed to see him for herself. She needed to know. To know in her heart he really was dead. That his hands would be stilled forever. That his lips wouldn’t speak another cruel word. She needed to know she’d never look into his cold hard eyes again––eyes that had deceived the world…. Eyes that had deceived her at one time.

  She needed proof that her nightmare was truly over.

  Chapter Two

  Dr. Josh Samuels signed out for the evening and waved to the two remaining nurses at the desk before getting on the elevator. He really needed to give more serious thought to retiring. Long shifts in the emergency room were designed for doctors a lot younger than he was, even if he had cut back his hours fairly drastically in the last year. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to kick off his shoes, open a bottle of wine, and read a good book.

  But, thoughts of an evening of relaxation left his head the minute the elevator doors opened and he caught sight of Laura Kensington flanked by two police officers in the lobby of the hospital. He’d treated Laura three months ago for a broken wrist and several months before that for cracked ribs and another month before that for concussion. He suspected that more often than not, she didn’t come to the emergency room when she was injured.

  Josh saw abused women all the time in the ER and still felt compelled to help despite the odds. Getting the average woman to admit there was a problem and leave an abusive relationship was a challenge. Convincing one of America’s most well-known wives, a woman who was practically royalty as the husband of one of the Kensingtons…. Well, that had proved impossible. But, Josh wasn’t about to give up. He’d been working on building a rapport with Laura and had reached out to her a few times. She’d been tolerant—she was too polite not to be—but she wouldn’t admit there was anything going on. Perhaps the police officers with her this time meant she was ready to make a change, ready to seek help and get away from her husband.

  “Laura?” Josh asked as he approached, forgetting the fact that he was no longer on shift. Laura looked pale and stunned as she turned toward him, but he couldn’t see any outside evidence of injury on her body.

  “Dr. Samuels,” she said politely, ever playing the part of the wife of the powerful Patrick Kensington. He’d told her before to call him Josh but she never did.

  “What’s going on, Laura? Are you all right?” Josh looked from her and back to the officers, hoping for some kind of reading on the situation.

  Laura seemed to be frozen as she answered and Josh quickly understood why. “Patrick is dead,” she said as though she were delivering a report of what she planned to serve for dinner that night rather than a life-changing event. “Patrick had a heart attack.”

  “Oh, Laura,” he said, not taking hold of her hands, but wanting to. “I’m so sorry.” But, no. He really wasn’t sorry. He watched her face carefully to decipher how she was taking his death. He had yet to figure out if Laura had truly loved her husband, as many women who were abused did. Would she mourn his death and let the abuse fall to the back of her mind as she remembered the good in him? Or was this a relief to her?

  “I can take her down to the morgue, gentlemen,” Josh said to the officers, who looked to Mrs. Kensington for confirmation. “I’m her doctor,” he said.

  It wasn’t entirely true since he’d only ever treated her in the ER, but Josh wasn’t worried about technicalities right now. He wanted to be sure Laura was all right.

  She seemed numb as she nodded to the officers, who wasted no time tipping their caps to her and making a break for the door. They clearly hadn’t relished the idea of taking her to the morgue to view her husband’s body. Josh was more than happy to. He was fairly sure that the abuse she’d suffered over the years had been no small matter. If he could make a small bit of difference here for her; help her come to grips with what had happened and move on, he wanted to do it. And the first step would be helping her view the body of the man Josh was sure had tormented her.

  ***

  Laura stared at the body in front of her and imagined Patrick’s death was all a dream or a sick joke. The suddenness of her freedom left her reeling and she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to trust it, to let herself believe it yet. She imagined he could still reach out to grab her. That he would sit up and trap her, his hands closing around her throat once again, as he laughed at her struggle to draw breath.

  She suppressed a shiver.

  “Are you all right, Laura?” came Dr. Samuel’s quiet voice. When she had first seen him in the lobby, she hadn’t known what to think. The man had been trying to convince her to leave Patrick for a long time. Though she’d never told him what Patrick was doing, he had always seemed to know. At first, his knowing eyes frightened her. If he pushed, if he insisted she get help, it would only make things worse. Thankfully, Patrick had believed her when she’d said the doctor was trying to recruit her to serve on the hospital’s charitable foundation board.

  Over time, some of the doctor’s advice had broken through, and she had realized he was right. If she didn’t leave soon, Patrick would kill her. And now, he’d be killing her unborn child with her. Laura couldn’t put her baby at risk. She had put her plan of escape in motion as soon as she realized her baby would never be safe if she didn’t leave her husband.

  She looked up into the doctor’s kind face. Hair like snow, gentle blue eyes. A questioning smile hovered on his lips. Something about him was always calming. Before she could think to say anything, his eyes darted to her arms and her stomach sank. She’d left the house in short sleeves and didn’t realize she had been rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms, probably moving the sleeves up with each brush of her hands. She was normally careful to keep her sleeves
in place.

  Laura abruptly dropped her hands to her sides and glanced away, swallowing the fear that clutched at her, grabbed hold, and didn’t seem to want to let go. No one was supposed to learn her secrets. Not ever.

  “I’m fine. Yes. Thank you, though. For asking, I mean. But, I’m all right.” Words seemed to blurt out from her lips now, as she tried to cover the awkward silence.

  She looked back to her husband’s body. She really was all right now. Patrick was gone. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. He couldn’t hurt her baby. One thought rang over and over in her head. It was over. It was really over.

  “You look pale. Would you like some water or to take a seat?” he asked.

  Laura shook her head no. The smile she gave him was one born of practice.

  “That’s very nice of you, really, but I’m fine. Thank you.” She’d pasted that smile on her face permanently, but both the smile and her words seemed at odds with the fact that she was viewing her dead husband’s body.

  The uncomfortable silence that settled between the two strangers was filled all too quickly by the sound of the automatic doors opening. Martha Kensington, Patrick’s mother, and his notorious younger brother, Justin Kensington were shown into the room by a technician. Martha was stone-faced, but Justin looked genuinely distressed.

  Laura’s step toward the doctor was instinctive, as was the way she cradled her stomach in an unmistakable protective gesture. Neither move went unnoticed. Martha’s eyes narrowed on Laura a split second before the doctor stepped in front of her. Laura wasn’t sure why this doctor had taken up her cause, why he was so willing to help her, but in that moment as she realized she wasn’t free of the Kensingtons yet, she was grateful Dr. Samuels was here by her side.

  “Good morning. I’m Dr. Samuels.” He extended his hand and merely waited, as if expecting the pair of newcomers to introduce themselves, to explain their relationship to her husband. As if he didn’t recognize them from the papers and television.

  Justin met the doctor’s eyes and shook his hand. Martha did not. “Justin Kensington. This is my mother, Martha Kensington. I’d like my brother's body released as quickly as possible to this funeral home.” Justin handed a card to Dr. Samuels, who in turn passed it to the mortuary technician who had shown the pair in and was now hovering awkwardly nearby.