by Verna Clay
"I'll drive you there."
"Are you sure?"
"Definitely. You're upset and shouldn't be driving."
Forty-five minutes later Lucinda pulled into the parking lot of Paxtonville's only hospital and said, "I'll go with you."
"Thanks, Lucinda. You're a great friend."
Inside the hospital Angel greeted a woman dressed in pink at the information desk and was told that Molly was in intensive care. Angel's lips trembled as she thanked the hospital volunteer.
Lucinda followed her friend to the closed door of the Intensive Care Unit and waited while she rang the intercom. There was a crackle and then a woman answered, "How can I help you?"
"It's Angel Brightman." Before she could say more the woman said, "I'm opening the door, Angel."
A few seconds later the door automatically opened. Angel turned to Lucinda. "Thank you so much. You don't have to stay–"
"I'll be in the waiting room until you talk with your family and find out what's going on."
Rather than argue, Angel nodded and hastily entered ICU. Lucinda retraced her steps to the waiting room and settled into one of the many blue cushioned stainless steel chairs. She closed her eyes and silently prayed for Molly.
Fifteen minutes later as Lucinda blindly watched nature scenes accompanied by soft music fade in and out on the television, she heard the door open. Jumping to her feet she rushed to meet Angel who had apparently been crying. Lucinda placed an arm around her shoulders and waited for her friend to speak, but dreaded what she would hear.
Angel's chest heaved. "Granny had a heart attack and the doctor said it's only a matter of time." She inhaled a shuddering breath. "She's awake and when I mentioned that you were in the waiting room, she said she wants to see you."
Shocked, Lucinda said quickly, "Oh, I don't want to intrude on your family."
"You're not intruding. Granny insists on seeing you and the doctor said it's okay. Will you come with me?"
The pleading in Angel's eyes made it impossible for Lucinda to refuse. "Of course, hon."
Angel clasped Lucinda's hand as they left the room. At the ICU door she gave their names and the door opened again. They entered a short hallway and then a spacious room with a central nurses' station surrounded by windowed rooms. Some of the rooms had their curtains open and Lucinda felt deep compassion for the patients hooked to countless machines and monitors. Everything felt surreal and she got a déjà vu feeling reminding her of when she'd visited Harris in the ICU after his accident. The antiseptic smell made her feel queasy.
Angel paused beside a door that a nurse had just exited. The nurse smiled sadly at Angel, glanced at Lucinda, and then continued past them. Lucinda followed Angel into the room. In contrast to the vibrant woman at the Fourth of July festival and the one she had interviewed, Molly looked pale and drawn, and very much her age of 101. Ann Martinez sat beside her grandmother holding her hand and her red rimmed eyes evidenced her distress. Leaning against a wall was Ann's husband, Jackson. And Jacob Hackstetter, Ann's son from a previous marriage, was sitting next to his wife Julie in chairs near the door. Ann said softly, "Granny, Lucinda is here."
There was a soft chuckle and Molly wheezed, "I still got my eyesight, Ann. Now let the gal sit beside me."
Ann lifted her grandmother's hand, kissed it, and moved to stand beside Jackson so Lucinda could take her place. Lucinda was feeling extremely uncomfortable intruding into this family's privacy, but she did as requested and sat down. "Hello, Molly," she said for lack of anything else to say.
Molly gave a little gasp for air, lifted her gaze to Lucinda's, and said, "I want you to do something for me."
Lucinda couldn't imagine what it could be. "Of course; anything."
Molly's gaze, clear and lucid, studied her for a moment. "I want you to write my life story and Newt's life story."
Lucinda's eyes widened as Molly continued, "I've kept journals since childhood… and I want others to learn from my mistakes… but also… my accomplishments. And Newt dictated his story to me." Her words were spoken coherently although she often paused struggling to breathe. "At the reading of my will my attorney will give the particulars about the journals–"
Ann made a little sobbing sound and Jackson placed his arm around her.
Molly shifted her gaze to Ann and with a tiny smile said, "Ann, I love you dearly, but you've got to let me go. I've had a long, long life, and I want to join Newt."
Ann swiped the tears on her cheeks. "I know, Granny. It's just so hard because I love you so much."
Molly smiled lovingly at her granddaughter and then looked back at Lucinda. "I left instructions in my will for my family to find someone to write our stories… but I've decided… you're the person I want. I was going to ask you at the next coffee gathering, but then…" Her thin shoulders barely moved in a shrug. "Will you do it?"
Lucinda's heart embraced this brave woman's request and she wanted nothing more than to write their stories. "I would be honored, Molly."
Molly closed her eyes, tried to take a deep breath that caused her to cough, but finally rasped, "Thank you." She opened her eyes and said, "Okay… everyone come give me a last kiss."
Ann gasped and Molly said in a stronger voice, "Now Ann, don't make me scold you in front of everyone."
Swiping her eyes, Ann returned to her grandmother's side and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Granny."
"As I love you, dearest." Molly's voice now sounded faraway.
The remainder of the family kissed her, as did Lucinda, and then she said on a long exhale, "I can't wait to see Newt." Her eyes closed and the monitors started to beep. And although nurses and a doctor rushed into the room, nothing was done to revive her. Later, Lucinda learned that Molly's living will forbade it.
Chapter 23: Secret
Phoenix gathered her purse and suitcase, glanced around the bedroom she had occupied all summer, and gulped back a sob. The final payment on her car had been made the day after Molly's funeral, which was actually a celebration of her life, and the gathering at the First Presbyterian Church had been attended by so many people they had spilled across the large, manicured lawns of the house of worship. Because Phoenix had only known Molly for a few weeks, she had intended to remain on the lawn, but Justin had insisted she sit inside with him.
There had been tears, of course, for the beloved icon who had resided in Paxtonville for twenty-five years after marrying another icon, Newt Tucker, foreman of the Lazy M Ranch for decades.
While listening to Molly's granddaughter, Ann Jackson speak, Phoenix had learned that Molly met Newt while visiting her. Ann had lovingly given a short recitation of her grandmother's first date with Newt, but stopped when she was overcome by emotion. Jackson, standing beside his wife, had hugged her and stepped to the microphone, and although his remembrances were also emotional, they were tinged with humor as he joked about Newt and Molly's adventures. Particularly funny, was her renown as the undisputed "Bingo Queen." The crowd had laughed and nodded affirmations. Obviously, everyone was well aware of her uncanny luck. Next, he'd chuckled as he related Molly's insistence that Newt take up painting after his retirement. Jackson had shaken his head with incredulity. "We had no idea that Newt was so talented. In fact, his paintings sold so fast he had a hard time keeping up with the demand."
Nods and murmurs of agreement had arisen among the crowd and someone called out, "I got two of 'em." Someone else said, "I got three." And then more people joined in.
Jackson had smiled and continued, "And with that in mind we have a surprise for ya'll." He'd then lifted the microphone from its cradle and walked to a draped easel. "This was the last painting Newt did, and although many of you saw it above Molly's fireplace, we thought it appropriate to share here because it perfectly encompasses Molly—beloved wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, friend, and neighbor. A woman who loved life and people."
He'd then removed the drape and sobs were heard as tissues were lifted to blot tears. Phoenix's
own eyes had welled up. The painting portrayed an elderly woman wearing white western boots, white cowgirl hat, purple western skirt, and a trendy matching blouse flaunting white fringe across the bodice, but it was her smile that spoke volumes. It said louder than words: I can't wait to see what today holds for me.
The noise of a shutting door returned Phoenix's thoughts to the present and she rolled her suitcase into the living room. It was time to leave Paxtonville and return to California. It was time to finish college and find the job that would catapult her into success.
She sniffed back a tear.
Justin watched Phoenix enter the living room and rushed to help her. "I'll take your suitcase."
As she handed it over he noticed tears in her eyes and it took all of his willpower not to pull her into his arms. The chasm between them was too great to conquer. She had mapped out a life he couldn't fathom, and although he knew she had feelings for him, anything beyond friendship would eventually end in heartbreak. He couldn't live the life she wanted because he had already lived it as a teenager.
She started toward the door but suddenly stopped and dropped her head. With her back to him, she said so softly that he almost couldn't make out the words, "I'm going to miss you so much."
His heart broke. "Baby, I'm going to miss you, too." He inhaled a shuddering breath. "But I can't live in your world, any more than you can live in mine. I don't want success, fame, or fortune."
She turned and lifted her head, gazing steadily into his eyes. "But you already have it."
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. I know your secret."
He inhaled sharply. "You're going to have to explain yourself."
Her stance unexpectedly became defiant. "I know that your parents were professors and that you were a child prodigy who became a student at MIT at the age of twelve, and that you were touted as the next Einstein. After your parents died in the plane crash you left MIT and moved to Paxtonville to live with your grandmother. You then changed your last name to her maiden one. What I don't understand is why you want to hide out in Paxtonville as an unknown when the world could be your oyster. You could have any job you want."
Justin's pulse quickened. "You've been spying on me?"
She stood taller. "Not at first, but your secrecy finally…" Her voice trailed and she shrugged before admitting, "I fell for you and so, naturally, I wanted to know more about you. I tried to read one of your journals and a note from a professor fell out. I also overheard you reciting equations over the phone once. Are you a consultant?"
"Did you discover my secret on your own or did you have help."
Something flickered in Phoenix's eyes and he said flatly, "Who helped you?" Again, her eyes flickered and he suddenly understood. "It was the reporter, Lucinda. Is she going to do to me what she did to Harris?"
"Of course not! She wasn't even going to tell me until I dragged it out of her." Phoenix gnawed the corner of her lip. "So, are you a consultant?"
"I guess you could say that. I like to help out. That's all."
She stared at the floor. "So where do we go from here?"
Although it broke his heart, he replied, "We don't go anywhere. You want to climb the ladder of success, and I consider myself to have already achieved it."
She exhaled and her shoulders slumped.
Justin said softly, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw me under the bus." It hurt to say the words, but he had to break the bond that existed between them.
Lifting a hand to swipe her eyes, she said, "Your secret is safe with me."
Chapter 24: I.D.
Harris bent and kissed Lucinda's lips, trailed his mouth to her ear, nipped her lobe, and said, "I've been looking forward to today."
She placed her arms around his neck. "Me, too. I haven't seen Eli and Angel since the funeral. It'll be fun getting together."
Pulling Lucinda snugly against his body, he replied, "I saw Jackson and Ann last night when they stopped by to visit my mom and dad and they're doing better. I know there are stages to the grieving process and I believe they've reached the next one."
She laid her head against his chest. "The attorney gave me Molly's journals yesterday afternoon and I started reading them." She lifted her head to stare at him. "They're wonderful. She and Newt had the most amazing lives and I just hope I'm able to convey not only their stories, but their personalities. In order to do that, I've decided to write their narratives in the first person, using their voices, but you'll have to help me with Newt, since I never met him."
"I'll help in any way I can. So the stories will be in novel form, rather than a biography?"
"Yes. I've always wanted to write a novel and since meeting the authors in Paxtonville..." She grinned. "Namely your father, mother, brother, and Sarah Tanner, I'm really excited to get started. They all said they'd help me and critique my progress." She sighed and again nuzzled her head against his chest. "I love you; I love your family; and I love Paxtonville."
Harris placed his chin on top of her head. "Are you sad we're moving away?"
"Yes. But I'm looking forward to our life at the ranch and with the people of Viola."
Harris hugged her tightly. "Are you ready to head out?"
She stepped back. "I just need to grab my purse from the bedroom."
Harris stuck his hands in his pockets while he waited and thanked the universe that he'd reconnected with the only woman for him. He adored everything about her. From her quirky personality to her thick glasses, to eyes that drove him crazy with desire. He grinned and restrained himself from charging into her bedroom and laying her across the bed.
Her cell phone rang with an upbeat tune and he saw it lying on the bar. He reached for it, intending to take it to her, but when he saw the I.D., he frowned: THE SEATTLE DAILY. Why would the newspaper be calling since she no longer worked for them?
She rushed into the room. "I'll get that!" Her words were a little too breathless.
Harris glanced from the I.D. to her. "Why is The Seattle Daily calling you?"
Momentarily, she had the look of a deer caught in headlights, and then she said, "I don't know. Let it ring. I'll call back later and find out."
"You're lying."
The phone stopped ringing and Lucinda stared at it. Finally, she lifted her eyes to his. "It's not what you think."
"Do you still work for them?" He watched her swallow.
"Umm, yes and no."
Restraining the anger that surged through him, he said evenly, "What the hell does yes and no mean?"
Her eyes started to well with tears. "It means that they think I do, but I really don't. After this assignment I was going to quit…which I did before coming here…they just didn't know about it."
Her confusing response only angered him more. "So why are you working for Ward and them at the same time? And what assignment are you talking about?"
She only stared at him, clearly not wanting to answer his question. "I'm waiting," he replied in a tone demanding nothing less than the truth.
Her lips trembled and then her words tumbled out. "My editor—Seattle editor—contacted Ward and…and said I wanted to apologize to you and the town for my article, which was the truth, and made a deal with Ward that if he hired me for three months, he would get a big byline in The Seattle Daily. So Ward hired me."
She stopped speaking but Harris knew there was more, much more. "And…?" he prompted.
Her gaze slid away. "What Ward didn't know is that–" Her lips trembled again. "That my Seattle editor was sending me here to…to…"
When she couldn't continue, Harris stepped closer. "To what, Lucinda?"
She lifted sad eyes to his. "To find out what I could about the famous people living in Paxtonville."
Harris jerked backward. He couldn't believe her reply and retorted, "Don't you mean pry into their private lives, like you did with mine?"
Her lack of a response said everything Harris needed to know. He released a burst of air
and then grabbed his hat off the bar.
Lucinda cried out, "But I had no intention of doing that. I was only coming here to print an apology and beg your forgiveness. When my stint was over, I was going to return to Seattle and quit."
As he jerked the door open, he said, "We're finished, Lucinda."
Chapter 25: Funds
Phoenix lifted a hand and knocked on the door of her finance counselor at Cal State University Fresno and immediately heard, "Please, come in." She entered the tidy office of the robust woman who had helped her in the enrollment process three years earlier. Every year she met with Mrs. Duarte to review her funding.
"Have a seat, Phoenix." Mrs. Duarte motioned to a brown leather chair trimmed with brass buttons.
Phoenix watched the university employee shuffle through a substantive stack of folders on her blotter and wondered what Justin was doing. Was he preparing a Raspberry Rambo for Gertrude Sniper or a CinnaBomb Lite for Tessa Branigan or a Groovin' Grinds for Officer Pilcher? Maybe he was inventorying supplies or calling suppliers. Maybe he was joking with the employees.
"Well, Phoenix, I have great news for you," Mrs. Duarte interrupted her musings.
"You do?"
A smile increased the fine lines around the mature woman's mouth and eyes. "From your question, I'm guessing you've no idea that the remainder of your tuition has been paid, with an ample amount in trust for expenses. Looks like you have a guardian angel."
Phoenix sat up straight. "What!"
Mrs. Duarte tilted her head and studied Phoenix. "I have no idea who it is because it was done anonymously. Do you have any idea?"
Phoenix blew a breath. "Maybe the kindest man in the world."
"Well, all I can say is that it's a wonderful gift and when you buy your books and other necessities…" she paused and glanced at the page in front of her, "or pay for housing, just bring your receipts in and you'll be reimbursed."
Phoenix gaped at the woman. "It includes housing?"