From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone

by Eckhart, Lorhainne

  Marcie watched Maggie standing alone sobbing. The spot she stared at was coated in blood, and one fuzzy slipper lay there alone. She needed to go to her, but was stopped when a hand touched her sleeve.

  “Ma’am, you need to sit down. Are you family?” One of the local fireman, his kind hazel eyes appeared through a film of her tears.

  “Ryley. I left Ryley at the house.”

  “Who’s Ryley?”

  Her vision blurred even more, when she looked up at him, unable to make out any of his features. Her nose was plugged, and she swiped her hands over her eyes and wiped her nose with a sleeve.

  “He’s their son. Lily’s older brother. He watched this; he saw Lily hit. Oh, God.” She couldn’t hear him reply as he led her over to the fire truck and helped her sit on the back bumper.

  “We asked him his name, but he won’t talk. One of the volunteers found him on the road, over there, watching the ambulance leave.”

  Marcie nodded. “Please. Keep him away. How bad is it?”

  She knew by the way he grimaced he didn’t want to say.

  “You… you don’t think… ”

  The volunteer had an honest face. “Miss? You best be getting the parents to the hospital. Prepare them for the worst.”

  “What hospital?”

  “She’s being airlifted to Seattle.”

  Marcie didn’t know how she did it, but she stood up and hurried to Maggie and pulled her into her arms.

  Crime scene technicians arrived and taped off the area.

  “Maggie, we need to go.”

  Maggie pushed her away and swept her trembling hands through her hair as tears fell. “Where are they taking her? Is she all right? She was still breathing, Marcie.”

  “Marcie!” Sam approached at a jog; the lines around his eyes had deepened. His face was pale.

  Marcie wanted to fall into his arms, but Maggie was there first, her arms around Sam.

  He stared at Marcie and rubbed Maggie’s back. “They’re airlifting her from the fire hall to Harborview Trauma. She’s still alive, but it’s touch and go. Diane arranged for another chopper, it’s waiting for us in Sequim.” Sam hurried Maggie along. Marcie fell in step beside them, but stopped after a few strides.

  “Ryley, I forgot about Ryley. We can’t leave him. And Richard, where is he?”

  As the sheriff pulled away with Richard in the back, Diane jogged over. The sheriff could be a hard-ass and didn’t take kindly to his officers being hit—even by a distraught parent.

  “Diane, please bring Marcie and Ryley with you.” Sam hustled Maggie to his SUV and helped her in.

  Marcie stood at the side of the road, alone, and watched as Sam drove away while Diane hurried off to find Ryley.

  Chapter One

  Words no parent should ever hear, “Your daughter didn’t make it,” played over and over in Maggie’s head as the cold wet drizzle deepened the sorrow in her bones. Gray sky battled for space between the puffy clouds.

  Black. Everyone conformed. All were shrouded in this drab dress code, which of course only emphasized the emptiness infiltrating every pore of the day. For the moment, Maggie had no tears left; but make no mistake, nothing could wipe away the searing pain churning inside, knotting her stomach one moment, twisting the muscles in her neck and back—then turning them into blocks of ice the next.

  Maggie sighed and tilted her head. The white and gold etched coffin her daughter lay in really was beautiful. Pink roses cascaded over the sides like a shrine. A moment of clarity swooped in and intensified the agony. Lily would have loved pink.

  Five, she was only five years old, a baby still. That number was engraved into Maggie’s every waking thought. The unseen cruelty of God. The hand of fate. How Maggie hated God at this moment. What did I do to you? She’d screamed those words over and over with her fist raised in damning condemnation. She hated everyone at this moment, even the damn minister who went on and on preaching his sanctimonious bullshit, but no more than she loathed herself.

  “We must trust in God, it’s God’s will.”

  Screw you, you self-righteous prick.

  Her mind was disconnected, even the strong squeeze on her left arm didn’t process right away. She looked down, her heavy head swam from the tranquilizer the emergency room doctor had prescribed. Who was touching her? Ah yes, her brother John. The one she rarely saw, had nothing in common with, but here he stood, concern for her carved into his face and his stare. Or maybe it was malevolence; after all, what kind of mother allowed her child to wander out into the road? She looked away, unable to take any more blame. She’d heard enough from Richard.

  Every motion she made was reactive, numb, drugged. Her mind felt plugged, each one of her senses grated like a rusty piston, catching and then starting again. Her nerves were all over the map, shaking her thin grip on reality. Did she say something? She couldn’t remember. John was blocking her view. She couldn’t see Lily and was rocked by a lofty wave, igniting her panic. She couldn’t remember how to breathe, so she fought for air. What was that sound?

  Grief was screaming—but who was making that sound? People crowded around her; she couldn’t see Lily. Only Richard on the ground weeping beside the coffin. John put his face in front of her, his mouth moved like a marionette, but no sound came forth. Then, in the blink of an eye, she swayed when the darkness surrounded her. Did someone turn out the lights?

  Chapter Two

  One Year Later

  Maggie stood in the hallway of Westwood Elementary School behind Mrs. Johnson, the special education teacher, listening as the woman reprimanded two mothers, Angie and Jean, on their choice of therapy for their special needs children. Maggie scrunched her nose and gazed upward. Give us a break.

  How dare this woman publicly humiliate Maggie’s friends, fellow parents? Angie was slim, with curves in all the right places, and could be quite the knockout if she’d put some effort into it. But she chose to play it down, tie her long hair back, and throw on a pair of glasses instead of contacts on her big blue eyes. Jean was older, plump, short, and always stood as if she had a hunch in her back. And both women remained silent as Mrs. Johnson continued to criticize.

  Angie glanced at Maggie, her lips twitched as if struggling to hide her smile. Maggie couldn’t help herself. She needed to lighten the moment so she tossed her head side to side mimicking the woman’s tirade. It was so unlike her to pull these childish pranks, but Mrs. Johnson had pushed Maggie’s buttons one too many times.

  They stood ten feet from the open door of Ryley’s fifth grade classroom. Jean’s brown eyes widened, and her mouth opened, but nothing came out. When Angie’s eyes went from amazement to horror, Maggie stopped and slowly turned until she was face to face with Jacob Peterman, the tall hunky principal. His gray blue eyes narrowed, and Maggie felt her face burn. How long had he been there? And how much of the entertaining display did he see? Maggie cleared her throat and swallowed hard. She tried to say something, but closed her mouth when no reasonable words came to mind. She was aware of an awkward, old feeling, one she’d last felt in high school, the kind of moment you never wanted to relive again. “Oops, caught red handed.” She giggled. Where in the hell did that come from?

  Even Jacob Peterman couldn’t keep a straight face; his stern lips twitched.

  Maggie realized that she had changed. Not overnight, but gradually… to the point everyone around her commented on it. She used to be quiet and reserved. Pausing first before speaking careless words. Now, she felt as if all she said was, “I’m sorry,” over and over. She wondered if that’s what happens when life dumps all its crap on your plate and says, “Deal, baby.” And maybe that’s what gave her the courage to grin brightly now. Well what’s the worst that can happen? I can get banned from the school. Jacob’s eyes appeared to soften as he took in everyone with a steadfast glance, and that’s when Maggie realized no one was talking.

  Mrs. Johnson filled more space than a lot of woman, tall and wide, and her righteous expressi
on spurred anger inside Maggie. She silently prayed Jacob heard Mrs. Johnson’s tirade. She blinked as her mind fogged again.

  What started this? Ah yes… The school didn’t have the funding needed to support all these kids with neurological disorders. Children could no longer be tagged ‘learning disabled.’ And Mrs. Johnson’s tirade: “If I give to you, I have to take away from another child.”

  From her talks with him, Maggie knew Jacob believed the public education system needed a serious overhaul, with credible therapy and trained aides who understood each child’s individual needs, instead of the present “cookie cutter” therapy thinking—one size fits all. But sadly, politics, unions, and reporting lines came before the best interest of the child. As the commander and chief of this elementary school, Jacob was over everybody… except Mrs. Johnson. The Special Needs department reported to the district head office. And there was little Jacob could do about her attitude other than continuing to override her decisions.

  Maggie wasn’t sure what to do as she gazed into his dark eyes. Gray tinged the sides of his dark brown hair, which actually made him appear sexier. The lines around his eyes and slightly tanned complexion linked him to his Mediterranean ancestry. He was tall at six feet two and was wearing a short sleeved, baby blue dress shirt with a red silk tie.

  Maggie opened her mouth to break the silence. “Ahh…” That was it. The sum of any intelligent response she could muster. Maggie glanced at Jean and Angie standing behind Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Johnson crossed her arms and squinted down at Maggie, her rosy lips a tight thin line. But all Maggie could see was the woman’s heavy eyebrows that appeared as if it was one thick caterpillar.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Jacob’s tone was quiet but firm, more a statement than a question. Maggie jumped, and again faced Jacob just as he swept his flattened hand past Jean, Angie, and her, looking at each of them in turn. He then directed what appeared to be his stern principal gaze on Mrs. Johnson. “I presume you’re ensuring these ladies are receiving the assistance they need?” One of his dark eyebrows raised giving a look that demanded an answer.

  A telltale pink colored Mrs. Johnson’s round cheeks. Her curt nod was awkward as she crossed her arms over her large chest. Tension nipped the cool sterile air. Maggie’s underarms were damp as she waited for panicked outbursts from Jean and Angie. It had been Maggie’s idea. “Let’s have a meeting, power in numbers. We’ll confront her with our issues and the lack of support for the kids.” She imagined their confession.

  Each of their kids needed support at school; Jean’s son, Adam, was diagnosed with Asperger’s, ADHD, and Mild Intellectual Disability, falling just above the acceptable limits for the school, so he did not qualify for full child support. Angie’s adopted daughter, Sammy, has FAS, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Maggie’s son, Ryley, was just a typical boy unable to grasp auditory teaching in the large class. If you asked him what the teacher said, what he learned today, his response was always the same: “I don’t know.”

  She imagined the cruel hardened accusation forming in Mrs. Johnson’s eyes. Why are you here? You have no right to be here with these parents. Ryley doesn’t qualify for services. Lily would have—she was autistic. So again, why are you wasting my time?

  A desperate fight stoked deep inside Maggie. She understood now what was at stake for these parents. Early intervention was key. Why hadn’t she seen that with Lily? This obsession to help others is what kept her sane now. Every day she fixated on what she could have done differently. If she would have done something, would Lily be here in this school today?

  Her mind drifted a lot these days. But when she looked back at Jacob, he crossed his arms and turned that stern principal gaze on her. She didn’t know how long he’d watched her. Then as if she were a recalcitrant child, he ordered, not asked, “Maggie, I’ll speak with you in my office, now.”

  Maggie glanced at Jean and Angie before following Jacob. When they rounded the corner of the single story, typical sterile school hall, he slowed his pace and stepped beside her into his office, closing the door behind them.

  “Take a seat.” He gestured to one of two chairs in front of his desk.

  Maggie’s insides withered. She tried to swallow past the golf ball-sized lump wedged in her throat. Her hands trembled, so she clasped them together and wedged them between her knees.

  Jacob smiled warmly, kindly, as he rested his forearms on the desk.

  “Do you want to explain to me what that was all about?”

  Chapter Three

  Her breath fogged on this cold and unusually clear day in early December. The icy chill barely penetrated past an ache that felt as if it shredded her insides. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as a single tear fell. Breathe in and out. She really tried but nothing would ease the hurt. With her shoulders pulled inward, she hurried to her rusted blue Topaz. Her eyes hurt, swollen from the tears she thought had long since passed. All that unreconciled agony she’d shoved and locked away flooded her senses—all because of Jacob’s kind words.

  Maggie slammed her door. “No, No.” She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, to change the hurt to a physical one—a real one she could deal with. Then she fought to bottle back the agony. Today was not the day she’d face it.

  Jacob was a kind man. His gentle eyes never left hers, and she’d be a fool to miss how her feelings mattered to him. The meeting was swift, and even Maggie was aware Jacob could see through the charade and her new motto—just do it.

  In the end, she listened quietly as he reminded her to watch her P’s and Q’s, especially when dealing with district personnel. Then he did it. The reminder she hadn’t wanted. “So how are you really doing, Maggie?”

  A jagged knife ripped open the tender wound. Except from Jacob, it wasn’t pity. And with him there was no avoidance. She knew he genuinely cared.

  The first day of this school year for Ryley and the days following, Jacob had simply touched her shoulder. “If you need anything, I’m just a phone call away.” Jacob was a passionate school principal, her friend, and a children’s advocate—and he’d been there the day they’d buried Lily.

  Holding onto the wheel of the car, she slumped as the overwhelming grief tore with viscous claws through her chest. She struggled and gasped for breath while hammering those walls back up, pushing the pain back where it needed to go. How, in one single genuine moment, had he managed to knock those barriers down?

  “How could he?” I am stronger than this, she chanted to herself as she quickly shoved on her dark sunglasses, hiding her tear-stained eyes. “Suck it up, come on, come on, come on. You can do it.” Her determined pep talk helped to refocus her thoughts. And maybe one day soon, she’d experience the day her heart would break just a little bit less.

  Chapter Four

  The old Topaz spurted and shuttered as Maggie drove home. The rusted out muffler, held on by wires, vibrated and shook the floor inside the car. Her ears were buzzing from the loud rumbling, which she supposed announced her arrival from blocks away. “Sorry.” She winced and waved to her elderly neighbors who frowned as she passed before pulling into her driveway. Necessary repairs were fast approaching critical, but on Maggie’s budget, not even an oil change would happen right now.

  She blinked as she stood outside her average box style house and stared at the front door. She turned and looked back at the faded blue car, realizing she couldn’t remember the route she’d driven home. How many times over this last year had she done this?

  A familiar scratch and whine yanked Maggie from her funk. She fumbled in her bag for keys while Daisy barked and scratched at the door. Maggie’s best friend and companion, who shared her deepest pain without judgment, unconditionally and always there, was a black and white dog with golden highlights—a sheepdog, lab, retriever, and a few other unmentionable mixes thrown in. The all-American mutt. Not much of a watch dog, but for what she lacked, she made up in spades with comfort, trust, and loyalty. Ten months ago, Maggie drove to the SPCA. At th
e time, she didn’t know why she’d stopped. But when she saw Daisy lying quiet, rejected, and unresponsive in that tiny cage, she knew she couldn’t leave without her. Even the girl at the counter was shocked when Maggie specifically asked for the old dog. And the lady asked her three times if she was sure she wanted a geriatric dog—one slated to be put down the end of the week. Maggie was convinced the dog was sent to her. From the first day when those blue days hit, when she couldn’t get out of bed, Daisy stayed with her.

  Maggie opened the door. “You need to go outside?” Daisy barked and pranced in front of Maggie and then raced to the back door, which opened into a small fenced yard. Daisy was quick in her old age, the way she darted out into the cold, and then rushed back in. “It’s too cold for you, sweetheart?” The dog yipped in agreement. She patted the dog’s head and wandered into the open kitchen to brew a hot coffee. The message light flashed on her cordless phone.

  She didn’t plan on returning anyone’s call, but she replayed the messages.

  “Just checking to see how you’re doing Maggie, call me.” Her mom, at times, was irritating with how she kept calling, and when she was in town, dropping by unannounced. But that was in the beginning, after Lily died, and thankfully over the last few months, was decreasing.

  The second message was from Richard, her soon-to-be ex. “I’m picking up Ryley from school today and keeping him through the weekend.”

  Maggie shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead when a heavy fog of confusion muddled her thoughts. Then finally, her memory clicked, today was Tuesday. She blinked again. Or had she lost another week? She shuffled through the stack of papers, bills, overdue notices for her calendar.

  “No, no, no. I don’t think so, Richard.” Fury pushed the blood through her veins while she looked at the date on the coffee stained Day-Timer. She punched in the numbers to his cell phone knowing he’d be somewhere on the forty acre property and not in the beautiful large two story cedar home he built after Ryley was born.