by Linda Mooney
The analogy totally threw him, but Jeb made a mental note to check out its meaning.
“Is there anything I can do?”
This time the reaction he got from the waitress was completely foreign to him. She reached out to take one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed. “If I could, I would go over there to check on her. Make sure she’s okay. But I can’t leave here, not when we’re short-handed and we haven’t had the morning rush yet. But…”
“You want me to go over there?” The remark was both a question and a request. Jeb knew there was no way he could leave Laughlin without a final goodbye.
“Could you? Please?” Before he could answer, she took out her order book and tore out the last page. Hastily she scribbled an address on it. “She’s in lot number four. You can’t miss it. She has daisies planted all around. Even has little daisies painted on the fence.”
Jeb glanced at the address. It was of a trailer park not too far down the road. “Want me to call you when I find out something?”
“Please?”
He nodded, getting to his feet. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”
“Oh, by the way, they have an old brown Chevy pickup. If it’s there, it means he’s home. The son of a bitch never lets her take it by herself.”
“Don’t worry.” Flashing her a smile, he hurried outside and climbed into his truck.
The mobile home park was eight blocks away. It took him less than ten minutes to pull into the main driveway that laced its way around and through the site. Barb was right. He spotted the trailer almost immediately, looking like a garden oasis. A riot of flowers ran around the outer rim of the trailer. Another lengthy bed lined the fence that had more flowers painted on each individual slat.
The narrow slab of concrete that sufficed as a parking area was empty. There was no brown truck, meaning Carl was not at home. Good. Then Hannah wouldn’t be afraid to give him some honest answers.
Walking up to the front door, he rang the little doorbell whose button was the center of a bright yellow and white daisy. And he waited.
There was no sound. No one came to the door or attempted to. For all he could tell, there was no movement at all inside. He rapped on the small window inset. “Hannah? It’s me, Jeb Morr.”
Still nothing.
Taking a deep breath, he walked around to the back side of the trailer where he noticed one partly opened tiny screened window.
“Hannah? It’s me! Jeb Morr. I came by because Barb said you called in sick.”
There continued to be no discernable movement inside. For a second, he wondered if Carl hadn’t taken her to the hospital himself, when an odor drifted to him from the hand-cranked window.
It was the scent of pain. And blood.
He rushed back to the front door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Bracing himself, Jeb firmly grasped the doorknob and applied more force on it. The lock crunched inside, the inner mechanism shattered by his great strength, and the crumpled brass knob came off his hand. The door swung open easily.
The place was dark. The stench of pain smacked him in the face like a well-aimed blow. Slowly he walked down the narrow hallway, peering into the second bedroom as he passed. Then the bathroom.
Reaching the master bedroom, he scanned it for any sign of her, but the place was empty.
Empty except for the smattering of blood droplets on the rumpled sheets.
The thick, hot scent of blood filled his nose. Jeb paused. The smell was too great to be coming from just those few drops.
“It was Carl who called in for her. Said Hannah was in the bathroom throwing up and couldn’t make it to the phone.”
The bathroom.
There was another door at the rear of the master bedroom. At first glance, he had thought it was a closet, but then he noticed it was to his right. In three long strides, he reached the closed door and threw it open.
At the sight of her, he nearly gagged.
She was hunched over between the toilet and the bathtub. Her face was hanging over the seat so the blood would fall directly into the bowl. She appeared unconscious, but alive. Barely.
Jeb dropped to his knees. “Hannah? Hannah, it’s me. Jeb. Oh, dearest heavens, talk to me, Hannah. How badly did that son of a bitch hurt you? Do I need to take you to the hospital, or what? Hannah?” He reached for her as one blackened eye managed to open to peer at him.
“Jeb?” Her lips were split open. Blood had run down the corner of her mouth and over her chin. Congealed smears masked one entire side of her face from temple to jaw.
“Why would he do this to you?” Her pain was his now. He could almost feel his skin cracking and tearing.
“Jeb?”
There was no question as to what he had to do. Getting to his feet, he lifted her in his arms and kicked down the toilet lid before sitting her on top of it. With a wet washcloth, he tried to clean up as much of the gore as he could, and prayed his ministrations weren’t causing her any further agony.
“What…” She tried to swallow but couldn’t. “What are you doing here?”
“Carl called in to the diner to say you were sick and wouldn’t be able to come to work. Barb and I feared the worst, so I came over to check up on you.” He paused to look over the damage done to her beautiful face. “He did this to you, didn’t he?”
“It was my fault,” Hannah tried to explain. Jeb cut her off angrily.
“There is no excuse for him to do this to you.”
“Yeah … there was.” She tried to smile but it hurt too much.
“Go on. I’m listening. What excuse could you give that would convince me you deserved this kind of brutality?”
She tried to take a deep breath. It came out as a painful gasp, leading Jeb to believe she could have some internal injuries. Not waiting for her to answer, he tenderly lifted her into his arms and took her out to his truck. She protested feebly but he ignored her. Going back inside he couldn’t find a suitcase or duffle bag, but he did find a box of garbage bags underneath the kitchen sink. Tearing one off the roll, he went back into the bedroom and began stuffing clothes from the closet into it. In the dresser he found underwear. Nightgowns. Socks. Her tennis shoes she always wore at work he found beside the bed. On top of them he threw in what he could find in the bathroom. A toothbrush, hairbrush, and some of those hair clips and elastic things he had seen her wear. The last item he grabbed was her handbag that was sitting open on the kitchen counter.
Closing the drawstring, he tossed the bag into the bed of the truck, then climbed in on the other side.
“Jeb, don’t do this,” she whispered brokenly against the other door.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No!” A small hand still bearing traces of blood latched onto his arm. Jeb looked over to see her eyes wide and pleading, despite the puffiness around the blackened, swollen sockets. “No hospital,” she begged.
“Why not?”
“They’ll think … you did it. Until I tell them different. And I … I don’t know if I’ll still be awake then.” She released his arm, letting her hand drop to the seat between them.
She looked so small and defenseless. The thin nightgown she wore was still coated in blood. It clung to her body, outlining her breasts and abdomen. It was all he could do not to pull her into his embrace and promise to shelter her for all the rest of his days.
The sudden surge of emotion rocked him to the core.
He gave her a brief nod and put the truck in reverse, when the roar of another engine drew up behind them. Jeb glanced into the rearview mirror to see a battered brown pickup pulling in.
A fair-haired man wearing a pair of jeans, a faded blue t-shirt, and a baseball cap that read Nolander’s Automotive got out from behind the wheel and came striding over to Hannah’s side of the truck. Instinctively Jeb leaned over and punched down the door lock after making sure the window was all the way up.
“Hannah! Hannah! What the fuck are you doing?” The man, Carl, tr
ied to open her door without success. He glared at Jeb. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing with my woman?” he yelled.
Hannah moved as if to open the door for him. Jeb reached out and took both of her hands in his. “Don’t.”
She turned blue eyes fogged with pain in his direction. “But—”
“You’re coming with me.”
He could swear she literally melted at that remark, as if she had wanted him to say something along those lines. Putting the truck in reverse, Jeb cut the wheels to avoid hitting the vehicle parked behind him.
Carl pummeled the cab with his fists. He tried kicking the door. Realizing he wasn’t accomplishing anything, he ran around to the driver’s side and began beating on the window.
It would only be a matter of seconds before the glass cracked. Throwing the stick shift into park, Jeb opened his door and stepped out, leaving the motor running.
A fist came flying around the door frame. It failed to make contact. Jeb caught it with his own and tightly clamped his fingers down over it. And kept tightening.
Carl hooted at the sudden pain. He tried to extricate his hand from the man’s grasp, but it was like having the bones crushed in a vise. Dropping to his knees, the hoot escalated into a thin shriek of pain. “Let go!” he finally howled.
Jeb let go. In one smooth move, he slid back inside the truck cab, slammed the door, and pulled out, leaving the man bending over in agony near the daisy-painted fence.
He drove back to the diner, pulling up at the rear. Jumping out, he hurried over to the back door and rapped on it. Seconds later Barb stuck her head out. Her eyes widened with horror when she saw Hannah propped up in the seat.
“Oh, dear God! Is she alive?” The woman hustled outside and over to the passenger side. Hannah was either out cold or unable to respond. Either way, her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.
“I want to take her to the hospital but she won’t let me,” Jeb told her. “I would have called, but Carl showed up as we were leaving, so I brought her here.” He paused, then added, “We had a minor disagreement. He’ll be nursing that right hand for a while.”
Barb slowly shook her head. “You know the man’s gonna come over here next. She can’t stay here.”
“She’s going with me.” The words were out of his mouth before he had the chance to think about it. Barb gave him a look of disbelief. “Until she’s well enough to decide what she wants to do, I’ll take care of her,” he promised.
“Just a second, then,” the older woman ordered him, and disappeared back inside the diner. Jeb nervously watched the road for the brown pickup until she reappeared with two brown paper bags. Shoving them into his hands, she told him, “I put a couple of breakfast biscuits and two cups of coffee in this bag. Her tips are in the other.” Seeing his quizzical expression, Barb made a shooing motion with her hands. “It ain’t much, but it should help get her back on her feet. Don’t worry about Carl. If he comes here, I’ll have Billy greet him with that Winchester he keeps behind the counter for emergencies. Now go.”
Jeb got back into the truck, tucking the two bags in the seat between him and Hannah. As he pulled away, he raised a hand in farewell to the woman watching them go. She waved back, and the last thing he thought he heard her say was to plea, “Keep her safe!”
Chapter 4
Tumbril Harbor
Clearwater was one hundred and eighteen miles northeast of Laughlin. Even so, Jeb felt it wasn’t far enough away. Once Carl recovered, he would come after the man who had taken Hannah. Then he would be coming after her.
He pulled down the pamphlet from where he had tucked it over the visor. Mr. Bennetson had given it to him Wednesday. It was a tourist brochure for a place called Tumbril Harbor. The man had a close cousin there who ran a lumbermill. The place was known for the timber it produced exclusively for shipbuilders.
“If you ever venture in that direction and need a few days’ or a few weeks’ worth of work, tell Tom I sent you.”
Tumbril Harbor wasn’t off of any major highway or secondary artery. One had to travel winding country roads to reach it.
As a town, it was slightly smaller than Laughlin, but it was surrounded by forest, with a direct route to the ocean. Picturesque. Easy to get lost in. And it was only another four hour drive away.
Hannah hadn’t awakened since she had passed out on their way back to the diner. Neither had she moved when he got back into the truck after picking up his paycheck. It wasn’t until he had to stop to pick up a bottle of aspirin and gas up the truck just outside of Clearwater that she finally came to. Slowly she pulled herself up and looked groggily around. When she focused on him driving, it all came back to her.
“Take a couple of those aspirin,” he gently ordered, nodding toward the small bottle sitting on the seat between them. “There’s also coffee and a breakfast biscuit in the paper sack.”
“Where are we?”
“North of Clearwater.” He nodded at the second sack in the floorboard near her feet. “Barb put your tips in that other sack.”
He noticed her glance at him as she reached for the first sack containing the coffee. “North of Clearwater?” she finally understood. “I … thought…”
Tossing her the brochure, Jeb explained, “I changed my mind. We’re going to Tumbril Harbor. I was told it has a mill that’s owned and run by Mr. Bennetson’s cousin. He said I could have a job there if I wanted it.” He glanced at her sipping from the Styrofoam cup. “That’s probably cold by now. I can stop at the next town and get you some fresh, if you want.”
“No.” She carefully shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s still warm. It feels good on my throat.” Sighing, Hannah stared out her passenger window at the passing scenery. From that angle, the worst of her cuts and bruises were out of sight, although the black fingertip-sized splotches around her throat and neck were clearly evident. Jeb felt his anger simmer in his blood. He had been too generous letting the man get away with just a crushed hand.
Long minutes and several miles went by. Jeb rarely played the radio in the truck, preferring the quiet and peace of mind he could obtain while driving. So the next time she spoke, her question vibrated in the air.
“Why?”
He knew sooner or later she was going to ask him that question. Human emotions were fragile things. And early on he had learned that the truth, no matter how much it could wound, was always the best road taken.
“Because I could not bear the thought of him hurting you anymore.”
His answer got her attention. Hannah turned to stare at him. Instead of asking any further questions, she dipped into the sack and brought out the breakfast biscuit. Beth had dropped one with sausage and egg, and one with egg and cheese only. Jeb had left her the one with the meat.
Slowly he watched from the corner of his eye as she pinched off pieces of the biscuit before putting them into her mouth and carefully chewing them.
“Jeb?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s going to happen to me now?”
“I guess that all depends upon you.”
Blue eyes dulled with the hopelessness of their situation looked over at him. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. Her plea was barely audible above the growl of the engine.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’ll be here for you until you decide what you want to do with your life.”
“And then?”
“And then you’re free to go,” he said as his insides turned inside out. Crystal bright pain shot through his chest, stunning him with the force of his reaction. Jeb knew he would have to face a very real, very possible future without her in it because of the decisions he had made today.
When she is ready to leave me, will I be able to let her go?
After eating, Hannah curled up on the seat, her head propped against his leg and thigh, and dropped back to sleep. He had picked up a thermal blanket at the Gas ‘N Go when he’d filled up. Now he tucked its plaid edges around her to keep he
r warm as she slept.
Sleep was good for her. It was the great healer, and that was what she needed lots of. He soon found having her head resting on his thigh was causing unusual stirrings in his chest and lower belly. It also was a feeling he could easily grow to like. Despite the circumstances of her being with him, Jeb couldn’t deny the fact he had no regrets over bringing her with him. In all honesty, he knew he hadn’t made it a point to go to the diner every morning simply to have breakfast. He had gone because of Hannah. Because he wanted to see her face and teasing smile. He needed to hear her voice and her laughter when she tried to pass along a joke she’d heard.
Hannah Pitt had come to mean something very real and promising to him. Which was why any dreams of a future with her were both poignant and impossible.
Hannah Pitt was human. He, Jebaral Gitall Morr, was nothing remotely human.
Still, he could protect her as he promised. Protect her and care for her until she healed and was able to face the world again on her own two feet.
Silently, Jeb prayed that time would not come too soon.
It was nearly three when he turned onto the simple two-lane blacktop that led to Tumbril Harbor. Hannah also roused herself from sleep and sat up with the blanket wrapped tightly about her.
“We’re about seven miles from Tumbril Harbor. When we get there, I’ll find us a place to stay, then I’ll get us something to eat. Anything in particular you’d like?”
She shook her head. Hunched over slightly, she appeared extremely vulnerable and lost. “I don’t care,” she finally answered. “But I would love something cold to drink, if that’s all right.”
“Not a problem.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after three.”
She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Her fingers encountered some dried blood, and she stared at the flakes in numb surprise.
“You can take a bath while I’m gone.”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she protested feebly. Parting the blanket slightly, she noticed the bloodstains on her gown. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get all the blood out of this.”