Like a Love Song

by Camille Eide

  And putting a dozen states between him and Oregon sounded even better.

  * * *

  After ending her call with Layne Friday night, Sue had tried to call Joe but got his voice mail. She left a message telling him she should have given him a chance to present his side and that if he wanted to tell her, she would listen. But he hadn’t returned her call, and her gut churned a little more with every hour that passed. Was he under arrest and unable to call? Or unwilling to call?

  Saturday morning, she agonized over whether or not to leave Joe another message. Just as she picked up her phone to try again, she got a call from the deputy investigating the case. There wasn’t enough evidence to arrest at this time but the investigation was still ongoing. Joe had been released but was not allowed anywhere near the property. She was to report immediately if he violated that order.

  If there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him, the case would be dismissed. If that happened, what would that mean for Joe?

  Sue went back to work, letting the ranch’s routines keep her from dwelling on questions she couldn’t answer.

  After an hour of overseeing game time in the den, a knock on the front door jolted Sue.

  Had Joe ignored the police order? Heart thumping, she opened the door.

  Mr. Stewart stood on the porch.

  Ringo circled the farmer, sniffing his boots.

  “Hello, what can I do for you?” Sue said.

  He pushed the bill of his hat off his brow. “Got a call from Joe. He said to come over and get his pickup. Said he wanted me to have it.” He scratched Ringo’s ears. “I can always use another truck.”

  “He—he’s giving you his truck? Why?”

  “I don’t know. Just said where he’s going, he won’t be needing it. Said the key is in his room.”

  “But where’s he going?”

  The man shrugged. “Didn’t say. Just said he wanted me to have the truck.”

  Thoughts racing, Sue invited the man inside. “I’ll get the keys. Wait here, please.”

  Sue went out back to Joe’s quarters. Braced for what she might find, she felt cautiously in his coat, shirt, and pants pockets, being careful not to disturb his things. Things that smelled of him. Things hung over a chair or bedpost without a fuss, in a way that said Joe Paterson had nothing to hide. She straightened and looked around the room.

  His keys were lying on a chair beside his cell phone. The phone he obviously didn’t have—and the reason he hadn’t returned her calls.

  Sue returned to the main house and handed over the keys. “Did he want you to get anything for him?”

  The farmer shook his head. “Nope. Said there’s nothing here he wants.”

  Dazed, Sue sent the man on his way, then went back to overseeing the kids’ activities, going through the motions without a clue what she was doing.

  “There’s nothing here he wants.”

  While everyone helped clean up from lunch, Sue called CPS to ask about Brandi, but had to leave a message, adding to her growing sense of unease. She pulled Bertie aside in the kitchen and told her about the farmer’s visit.

  “Joe gave the neighbor his truck?” Bertie frowned.

  “Apparently. Why would he do that?”

  Bertie shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Sue glanced at the kids, pressed by a sudden sadness she couldn’t explain. She had no idea what Joe’s behavior meant.

  Bertie shrugged. “Maybe he just doesn’t need it. He does have that job in the Gulf.”

  “But wouldn’t he need his truck to get down there?”

  Examining the toes peeking out of her Birks, Bertie said, “Maybe he doesn’t want to come around here to get it.” She met Sue’s gaze and lowered her tone. “If you were Joe Paterson, would you want to show your face around here?”

  Anxiety tingled up Sue’s spine.

  “What you say about Papa Joe?” Jasmine dropped her dishtowel and rushed close to Sue and Bertie, light dancing in her eyes. “He coming home now?”

  Sue had to turn away from Jasmine’s hope-filled face. She met Bertie’s gaze and whispered, “What am I supposed to tell them?”

  Bertie eyed her. “The truth is good. Especially with these kids.” She shuffled over to help put dishes away.

  But what was the truth?

  Listen, kids, the man you loved like a dad was taken by the cops because Brandi claims he attacked her. And because I said he had a history of abuse. And now he’s gone.

  A knife twisted in her heart. She needed speed. Now. She turned to Bertie, pleading with her eyes. “Miss Roberta, I need some time to collect my thoughts. Are you guys okay here for a while?”

  Bertie nodded slowly. “Careful, boss. It’s slick out there.”

  The old woman knew her too well. “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  The hour-long ride along snow-powdered roads hadn’t done anything to relieve her anxiety or calm her thoughts. Frozen and wind-chapped, Sue killed the motor and dismounted the Harley—Joe’s Harley now—and hung her helmet on the peg.

  Her legs and arms were numb. Too bad her brain wasn’t numb as well.

  Just as she started to pull down the big shop door, she froze.

  The spot beside the Harley was empty. Where was her Honda? Was it there when she left? Had someone moved it? Stolen it?

  Sue hurried into the house, through the empty dining hall, and into the kitchen, but no one was there. She reached for the office phone and called Bertie’s cell.

  “Sue?” Bertie’s voice sounded clipped.

  “Yeah. Do you know—”

  “Did you see Jasmine outside or in the shop?”

  “What?”

  “We’ve been searching for half an hour, Sue. We looked everywhere.”

  Comprehension shot fear straight to Sue’s chest. “Bert, the Honda’s missing. I think she might have taken it.”

  A quick intake of breath followed. “I’ll call the sheriff.”

  Oh, God, please. Help us find her. “Call the police and the Stewarts and anyone else you know. I’m going to look now.”

  Moments later, Sue was on the road in her Suburban, flashlight on the seat beside her.

  The winter sky, dark now in late afternoon, cast eerie shadows over the gray-white desert.

  Sue drove slowly, scanning the road ahead and the terrain on either side, fear clenching her insides like a giant claw.

  Why now? What had made Jasmine run away?

  And why on a motorbike? How far did she intend to go?

  I don’t think I can take any more trauma, God. Are You there? Can You do something? Sue reached the Juniper Valley turnoff and pulled to a stop.

  Was Jasmine on the road or trying to ride across the desert? Was she headed for town or—

  Her phone chirped. Incoming call from the ranch.

  “Did you find her?” Sue held her breath.

  “Jasmine’s been found,” Bertie said. “But Sue, she’s …”

  Sue’s veins turned to ice. “She’s what?”

  “Are you driving?”

  Dear God. “I’m stopped.” Please, no bad news. “What’s wrong?”

  “She was in an ambulance headed for Bend, but—”

  “No! How bad—”

  “Life Flight met the ambulance on the highway and took her in. Where are you?”

  Sue gasped. Life Flight? Had they found Jasmine’s body broken and bleeding in the snow?

  “I’m …” She searched around her in the dark, her thoughts whirling. “At Eleven-Mile Corner.”

  “You okay to drive? I’ll hold down the fort here.”

  “I can drive. I’ll call you when I get there.” She punched the phone off as darkness closed in. The world was spinning.

  Please—don’t let her die. Not Jasmine. Not my girl.

  Fighting waves of panic, Sue floored it and raced to Bend.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Fluorescent lights along the hospital corridors blinded Sue’s burning eyes. She missed th
e ICU by a floor the first time. She gripped the handrail in the elevator, watching the digital numbers change above her. Father—Lord—I don’t even know what to call You, but if You’re there, God, please don’t let her die. Or suffer.

  At the ICU, the desk nurse took Sue’s information and then pointed to a waiting area.

  “But she’s my … I mean, I’m her guardian, but she’s …” Fear that they wouldn’t let her see Jasmine gave her voice a frantic pitch. “Please, I need to be with her.”

  “I’m sorry, but no one is permitted right now. We’re working to get her stabilized. We’ll tell you just as soon as we know more.”

  Stabilized? Numb with dread, Sue went to the waiting area and sat beside a tired-looking old man. She leaned forward, head in her hands, and closed her eyes.

  How had this happened? And why? What had sent Jasmine tearing off on a motorcycle?

  Minutes felt like hours and days. Questions crowded each other in her mind until she couldn’t finish a thought. After an hour, she called Bertie and said she was still waiting to see Jasmine.

  “Hang in there, Sue. She’s a survivor. Like you.”

  Some survivor. Everything was falling apart—including her. Not knowing what was happening or if Jasmine would live or be permanently injured or brain dead was like a vacuum sucking the air from her lungs. Had the girl worn a helmet?

  “Susan Quinn?” a woman in scrubs said. “The doctor would like to speak with you.”

  Sue jumped and followed on shaking legs.

  A doctor waited in the hall beside a row of glass cubicles.

  Sue tried to listen to his quiet, calm voice as he explained Jasmine’s multiple injuries, but she had a hard time processing all the words. “Is she going to make it?”

  “Because of the concussion, we’re monitoring her for brain trauma. We’re also watching for other internal injuries. We’ve treated the exhaust burns and set the broken bones. But for now, she’s stable.”

  Stable. There was that word again. As in not fighting for her life, but not out of the woods either. Sue blinked back a rush of tears. “May I see her?”

  “Yes. She’s been sedated but is coming around now.”

  Sue entered the tiny room, struck by the cloying medicine smells, and stepped around a partitioning curtain.

  Jasmine seemed so small against the hospital bed and the equipment surrounding her, hooked up to hoses and monitors and machines, the faint beeps and blinking indicators keeping mechanical rhythm. Her head was wrapped in white, closed eyes swollen, skin an odd gray. A cast encased her leg. An IV dripped into a tube running beneath her gown into her narrow chest.

  So small, so vulnerable. Sue’s heart lurched. She pulled a chair close to the bed and touched Jasmine’s shoulder.

  The girl didn’t stir.

  Sue reached up and stroked her cheek. “You’re going to make it, baby. I know you will. You’re a fighter.” It wasn’t right. Jasmine had spent her whole childhood fighting to survive. She shouldn’t have to fight anymore.

  Jasmine opened her eyes, blinked at Sue a few times, then turned her face to the far wall.

  “Jasmine?”

  She didn’t move, only stiffened. Probably from the pain.

  “Can you hear me, honey?”

  The girl nodded stiffly.

  “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

  “Yes.”

  Sue laid a hand on Jasmine’s arm. “I was worried about you, Jas. We all were.” She watched the steady rise and fall of the girl’s chest, unsure how to get the answers she desperately wanted. “Can you tell me what happened? Why did you leave?” Nothing like drilling the kid while she’s in pain and fighting for her life.

  Jasmine turned toward Sue, face taut. “Angry talk hurt my head. I need to ride fast.”

  Angry talk? Sue opened her mouth but wasn’t sure what to say. “You needed to get away from someone?”

  Jasmine’s eyelids fluttered closed. “Need to race. Like you.”

  Like me?

  With a gasp, Sue tried to halt the alarms going off in her head, but the reality of her own stupidity struck her like a wrecking ball.

  Sue’s stress-burning rides had set a dangerous example for Jasmine. The girl was simply doing as she’d been taught.

  She could have died. Because of me.

  Sue couldn’t breathe. She forced herself to focus on what Jasmine had said. What did she mean by ‘angry talk’? Had Jasmine witnessed what happened between Joe and Brandi?

  Sue leaned closer. “Jasmine, who was talking angry? Can you tell me?”

  “I angry. Papa Joe gone now. He leave us all.” Her voice rose, choked. “Because of you!”

  The awful truth became clear, deadening her limbs. “Jasmine.”

  The girl wouldn’t look at her.

  “Jasmine, I only did what—”

  “Brandi lies. Everyone know. You listen Brandi but not Papa Joe, and now he gone.” She burst out crying.

  “Shh, Jasmine, please calm down. How did you know—”

  “Brandi only hurt people, but you not see. Not listen.” Jasmine’s voice rose and broke in angry sobs. “You bad mom. I hate you! I not stay with you!”

  Pain twisted Sue’s heart into an unbearable knot. She closed her eyes.

  Jasmine was right. Sue was a terrible mom—a terrible parent. Reckless, irresponsible. Negligent. She’d set the worst kind of example. Hadn’t been paying attention. She had no business caring for kids. More like damaged them all with her carelessness.

  What have I done? Oh God, what have I …

  In the sudden stillness, a strange hush had fallen.

  You’ve built walls around your heart, but it’s no home. It’s just walls.

  Sue looked around, pulse rising. It wasn’t an audible voice, but more like the echo of a remembered voice, quiet and vaguely familiar.

  “Jasmine?”

  Jasmine refused to look at her.

  “I’m sorry, Jas,” Sue whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She rose and fled the room, hurried out of the ICU, and kept going. Rounding a corner, she nearly crashed into an orderly.

  Where was an exit, an elevator, any means of escape?

  She found a stairwell and headed down the steps and out a door that led into another corridor. She hurried along bustling hallways.

  Too many people.

  She passed a small, open room containing a table with a large book open on top. A break room perhaps? Doubling back, she surveyed the room. It was empty, quiet. Stepping inside, she took in the muted décor, the empty seats, and the book, which she could now see was a Bible.

  A chapel.

  She reached for the box of tissues beside the Bible. She blew her nose, took a deep breath, and glanced down at the page. The words didn’t make any sense. She wiped her swollen eyes and read. Turned the page and continued.

  One part seemed to dance before her eyes, beckoning her to read it. There is no fear in love … But perfect love drives out fear …

  Sue stepped back, half expecting God to appear, like a holy intervention.

  Perfect love drives out fear.

  A picture of Joe on Table Rock flashed in her mind. His wounded look, his disbelief at her suspicions. Her terrible, unfounded suspicions. Then her gut reaction to the incident with Brandi, and the gnawing, sick feeling that wouldn’t go away.

  And now Jasmine hated her. The kid Sue so desperately wanted to help, a girl so much like herself. But no, she wasn’t like Sue at all. Jasmine listened. Needed. Loved. Jasmine was so many things Sue wasn’t.

  Things Sue should have been.

  The walls around your heart not only keep people locked out, but they also keep fear and hurt locked in.

  Sue stared at the Bible. She had worked so hard to bury the past and seal off the pain others had inflicted on her, but maybe all she’d done was let pain fester, skew her judgment, keep her a prisoner.

  The stunned look on Joe’s face as he got into the police car kept flashing in her mind.
The disbelief, the betrayal. The hurt.

  What if I’m the guilty one here? Grief crushed her. All she had ever wanted was to help disadvantaged kids feel accepted and confident. Do some good.

  But since when was it good to accuse and hurt someone who had shown her nothing but kindness?

  Someone who claimed he loved her?

  The full weight of shame pressed down on her. “Oh, God,” she whispered, “I made a terrible mistake. I think I …”

  Did something too cruel to say out loud, even to You.

  Sue ran from the chapel, the corridors a blur. She finally found an elevator and slipped inside, repeatedly punching the button for the lobby, ignoring the stares of curious passengers. Don’t look at me. I’m a monster. All I do is hurt the people I love.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Paterson!”

  Crouched over a casing pipe, Joe looked up.

  The crew boss made a phone gesture with a thumb and pinky.

  Joe shook his head and went back to marking steel. He’d gotten several messages on the company line from Sue, each one asking him to call.

  So she felt bad about the way things turned out. But this wasn’t one of those I-feel-so-bad-can-we-just-forget-it-happened kind of things. This went deeper. Far deeper than it ever should have had a chance to get. He should’ve known better.

  He shouldn’t have fallen in love. With Sue or those kids.

  Show her My love.

  Joe shoved the pipe away. It clattered into another one and sent tremors rippling across the deck.

  “I tried to show her,” he muttered. “Didn’t work. I thought I knew what You wanted from me, but I don’t even know if I’m hearing You right. Probably wasn’t even You.”

  Show her My love.

  It was unmistakable, that whisper in his heart, that familiar Voice. The same Voice of peace and truth, counsel and comfort, that he’d long known and depended on.