Chance of a Lifetime

by Jodi Thomas

  He paced, watched the weather on TV, tried to read, stared at the clock.

  At five minutes to twelve, the nurse stepped out to tell family that they would have ten minutes of visitation.

  Tannon walked to the door and waited his turn to pass through. Two guests to a room were all that was allowed.

  Just as he walked past the nurse, he felt a cold hand slip into his.

  He didn’t turn around. He knew Emily had made it. As they walked to his mother’s room, he held her fingers tightly, knowing now that no matter what happened he could handle it.

  “You’re freezing,” he said.

  “It’s cold out and I had to park a mile away.”

  He finally looked at her. Emily was wrapped in a puffy coat that went past her knees. She looked more like she belonged in the North Pole than in West Texas. “Where are your gloves?”

  “I couldn’t find them. How is your mother?”

  “The same.” He reminded himself that she was here to see Paulette, not be questioned by him. “This is her room.”

  They walked through the open sliding glass door into a room where machines surrounded his frail mother. Emily wrapped her other hand around his arm and moved closer. He could feel her against him but he remained stone.

  A nurse looked up from a chart. “The doctor will be in soon, Mr. Parker.”

  “Any change?” Tannon barely recognized his own voice.

  The nurse shook her head.

  Emily moved to the far side of the bed. She rubbed her hands together before she took Paulette’s hand. She talked softly as if believing his mother could hear her.

  The doctor came in to say that he was hopeful and that the next few hours would be very important. Tannon had heard it all before. Logic told him that this wouldn’t go on forever, nothing did, but part of him believed that this time in his life would never end. This—taking care of family, putting his life on hold for them and the company—seemed all he’d ever known, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, turn away from his responsibility.

  His mother didn’t wake up, didn’t make a move. He got through the visit by watching Emily. He’d always thought there was something frail about her. Maybe it was her slender frame or maybe her big eyes. But it was more than that. She had a way about her that seemed to calm his world like a gentle rain on a warm night.

  When they went back to the waiting room, he thanked Emily for coming to be with his mother. He knew his words were cold and formal but he didn’t know how to say more.

  To his surprise, she shook her head. “No, Tannon, I came to be with you. Your mother’s got a staff of doctors and nurses to watch over her. I came to be with you.”

  He bent and kissed her then, no longer caring who might be watching. The kiss was soft and tender, but when it ended the hug continued. For a long time, he just held her against him.

  When she finally pulled away, she said, “I’m starving. We’ve got over an hour to find something to eat.”

  He wasn’t hungry, but he put his arm around her shoulder and they walked to the cafeteria. While they ate, he begged her to tell him every detail of the writers’ meeting one more time. When she couldn’t remember every line of Peter’s poem, he complained and she threatened to make him join.

  They walked back for the short two o’clock visit, then took a nap cuddled beneath her big coat until the four o’clock visit.

  As the day aged, they talked in the corner of the waiting room. He told her about his business and she told him of her days in college. They avoided talking about the time when she’d left high school after “the accident” and the car wreck that had killed her parents. No mention of the month she’d been in the hospital, after which she’d gone home to recover and to be homeschooled. She’d missed the spring trip, the prom, and graduation because as soon as she could leave Harmony she’d moved into a dorm and started college a semester early.

  Tannon couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if there had been no attack in the parking lot that night she was sixteen. Would he have asked her to the prom? Maybe they would have gone to the same college, started dating, married young, and had a couple of kids by now.

  He stopped himself. Thinking of what might have been was too painful. Stick to the facts. They were friends, he decided, as he watched her reading beside him. That would have to be enough for now.

  The north wind rattled the windows, and she tugged off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath his leg for warmth. Time passed so quickly the nurse was announcing the six o’clock visitation before either of them realized it was time.

  After the visit, they found vending machines with cans of soup and week-old rolls. She claimed it was the worst food she’d ever had and he said it was about par with the dinners he usually had on the road.

  At the last visit at eight, the doctor announced all looked stable. “Doctor’s orders. Go home and get some sleep. We’ll call if there is any change.”

  Tannon drove her to her car, and then she followed him to the hotel. He’d already checked her in next door to him so they didn’t bother stopping at the desk.

  When he set her suitcase inside her room, he hugged her one last time and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for coming up,” he whispered.

  She smiled and said good night.

  He stepped inside his own room, missing the nearness of her he’d felt all day. For a while, he tried to watch the news as he read through business papers that needed signing, but the loneliness didn’t leave. She was one wall away.

  When he clicked off his set, he could hear hers through the wall. For a half hour he tried to sleep, but there seemed no hope. He blamed it on the muffled sound from her room, but he knew that wasn’t it.

  Finally, he could stand it no longer. He went to the connecting door and knocked.

  An eternity passed. He was about to knock again when she turned the lock.

  “Yes,” she asked. “Is something wrong, Tannon?”

  “Something is very wrong,” he said. “I can’t sleep in my room. Can I sleep in yours?”

  She peeked around him. “Your room is exactly like mine.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is. Trading rooms won’t help you sleep.”

  Tannon frowned. “I don’t want to trade rooms. I want to sleep in your room.”

  “Are you teasing me, Tannon, because if you are it’s not funny.”

  “I just want to sleep in the same room as you. I don’t want to be alone tonight. No other motive, I swear.” He knew a half dozen women who’d gladly share his room and his bed, but they weren’t Emily. He felt like a nut for asking, but he had to try. “Look, this isn’t some kind of line or come-on.” He had no idea how to explain himself. The idea was starting to sound stupid even to him. “Forget I—”

  “Well, all right, but you keep your jeans and T-shirt on.”

  Tannon closed his eyes. He was a grown man who’d slept with his share of women during his college days and none of the time had been spent sleeping, but with Emily, he knew she was serious.

  Her hand slipped in his. “Well, come on. I couldn’t sleep either because it’s so cold in here. I should have brought my fuzzy robe.”

  He looked down at her nightshirt, which said BOOK WORM, and laughed. “I’ll even keep my socks on, honey. I am starting to wonder where you buy your nightgowns.”

  “I got this at the last Texas Library Association convention. It glows in the dark.”

  “Great.”

  They climbed into bed. For a while, both lay on their backs.

  He finally shifted enough to look at her. “If you’re cold, don’t you think it might be better if we cuddle?”

  “All right.” She moved closer to him and he rolled to his side, almost touching her.

  She laughed suddenly. “Remember when we were about five or six and I wanted you to sleep over at my house?”

  He smiled in the darkness. “Yeah, our parents wouldn’t let us. I guess they thought it might becom
e a habit.”

  “You were my best friend, Tannon. It seemed right at the time.”

  “It still does,” he answered as he tugged the covers over her shoulder.

  Once she stopped shivering, he laid his arm around her waist and tugged her close, and only then did they both sleep soundly.

  When he awoke a little before dawn, she was sleeping on her stomach and his hand was resting on her hip. Part of him wanted more from her, but he didn’t want to risk what they were building. He was a man playing blackjack blindfolded. They might both be adults, but it seemed they had to go all the way back to start over. It might be twenty-five years late, but they’d finally had that sleepover she wanted.

  He watched her until she finally raised her head. Hair curtained her face and she tried blowing it away as she looked his direction.

  “Who are you and why are you in my bed?”

  He laughed and pushed her hair back with his hand. “I hope you don’t always wake up saying that. You’re beautiful in the morning, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.” She propped her chin up. “You, on the other hand, look terrible.” She ran her finger over two days’ growth of beard. “Get out of my bed.”

  He sat up. “All right. Thanks for sleeping with me.” He patted her on the bottom, something he never would have done before.

  “Anytime,” she answered as she searched for her glasses. “What time is it anyway?”

  He stood and looked back at her trying to read the clock. “How about we get dressed and I’ll buy you breakfast?”

  “All right, but give me time. I don’t wake up easily.” She fought with the covers as she rolled from the bed. When she emerged, her nightshirt was bunched around her waist and her powder blue bikini panties were on full display.

  Before she tugged the shirt down, Tannon saw a glimpse of the scars running from her belly button down. Red jagged scars.

  He looked up as she found her glasses, but before she could face him, he turned and ran from the room. “Breakfast in fifteen,” he managed to say before he closed the door between their rooms.

  For a long time, he stood in the shower fighting for control. That night in high school came flooding back to him, washing over him with wave after wave of pain. She’d been shaking with cold and crying when he’d found her between two parked cars.

  He’d covered her with his jacket and yelled for someone to call 911. A man answered that he would make the call, but he didn’t seem to want to come close enough to help. Tannon knelt beside her, pulling her into his lap as he tried to hold her. Her mouth and nose were bleeding where it looked like someone had used her face as a punching bag. Both eyes were so swollen he wasn’t sure she could see at all. When he’d glanced down, he saw dirt and bruises along her arms and across her chest, but from her waist down, blood was everywhere.

  She’d been cut! Sliced as if someone wanted to torture her before they killed her.

  The medics arrived, asking if he found her like this. When he nodded, another asked if he’d seen who hurt her. Tannon shook his head. As they unloaded the stretcher, the first guy told Tannon that the sheriff would be out here when he had time and if he knew anything that might help he should hang around and talk to him.

  They’d lifted her away from him, but they hadn’t commented when he climbed in the ambulance. He’d held her hand as tightly as he could while they worked on keeping her alive. Tannon hadn’t looked down again at the cuts that night. He’d stared at her face and moved her long bloody hair back. When they’d taken her into the hospital, he’d stayed behind in the dark of the emergency room’s driveway. The waiting room was packed, and a sheriff’s deputy stood in the center as if directing traffic. No one saw Tannon walk away. Even the EMTs had been so busy trying to help Emily, they didn’t seem to notice him tagging along.

  His letter jacket that he’d been so proud of was tossed into a Dumpster as he walked back to the school. The town seemed all shadows, blacks and grays, empty as he sliced through the sleeping streets. The roar of the crowds during the game earlier had vanished, but the echoes of Emily crying still filled his mind. He wished he’d been five minutes earlier, but he couldn’t even help with a clue to who might have hurt her.

  The parking lot near the stadium was dark and empty. Yellow tape marked the spot where she’d been hurt. He had no idea how long he stared at it before he finally got in his car and drove home. It was dawn when he walked in the kitchen door.

  “Coming in a little late,” his father commented behind his newspaper. Ted Parker had seemed an old man all of Tannon’s life, but he’d never looked as old as he did that morning.

  “Emily was hurt last night.” Tannon waited for them to look up, but neither did. His mom said something about calling Shelley later and his father changed the subject. As always, they were in their own world and he only lived on the fringes. They didn’t care enough to ask questions. They’d probably been arguing about something and he’d interrupted them.

  He walked to his room and closed the door. It didn’t bother him that they hadn’t looked at him. What killed Tannon was the fact they hadn’t cared enough about Emily to ask questions.

  The next morning the news was all about how a power plant between Clifton Creek and Harmony had almost exploded. A dozen men had been hospitalized, two in critical condition. There were pictures and a story about the big game, shots of brides with wedding details, and accounts of car wrecks between two drunks, but no mention of a girl being beat up in the parking lot.

  Tannon told himself that her parents might have kept it out of the paper. It seemed like something they would have done to protect her. He didn’t want to think that her story might not have been important enough to print.

  Chapter 30

  SUNDAY MORNING

  “YOU AWAKE?” TRACE WHISPERED AS SHE POKED HER HEAD around the door to Rick’s room.

  “Yeah, come on in.” Rick didn’t look like he’d slept at all. Papers and books were scattered around his bed as if he’d searched for something all night.

  When they’d finally made it back to the bed-and-breakfast, neither wanted supper. They’d sat in his room watching a basketball game and talking about nothing. Both had said everything they’d wanted to about the car crashing into the diner. She’d thanked him for saving her life. He’d only seemed to half listen to all the facts once Alex returned from the scene and filled them in.

  Rick Matheson was changing. Looking at him now, Trace decided Denver Sims would no longer call him “that kid of a lawyer,” like he had when he’d asked Trace to stop by Harmony and check on him.

  The sheriff reported that the old blue Audi belonged to the county clerk at the courthouse. He’d parked it in the same parking spot across the street from the diner for nineteen years. Whoever planned the crime had wired the car and locked down the accelerator. Once it was rolling, the Audi sat in a direct line to the diner. If there had been other cars parked in front, if someone had been driving down the street a minute earlier or later, they might have had a collision with the Audi. If anyone had been on the sidewalk, they could have been killed.

  Trace listened to all the what-ifs and tried to put the pieces together in her brain. Rick had told the waitress he wanted to sit by the sunny windows. He’d picked the center booth. She’d picked the time of day. An hour later and the county clerk might have been getting off work at the courthouse and seen someone messing with his Audi. An hour earlier and more traffic would have been on the street picking up kids from school two blocks away. Whoever did this was either very good or very lucky.

  Or, Trace thought, Rick Matheson was the most unlucky man she’d ever met, and from the looks of him now, he wasn’t happy about winning the title.

  She sat on the edge of his bed. Absently, she brushed her hand over his bare shoulder. Cute, but still unlucky; she revised her view of him.

  It bothered her far more that he might have been killed than that she was in danger. Danger was part of her job, maybe the part that
had drawn her to the service. But not him. He didn’t crave danger. “You all right?” she said, her voice low and caring.

  “Yeah. I feel like one of those ducks in the shooting gallery just circling around waiting for the next person to pay a dollar and take a shot at me.”

  “Why’d you pick that table?”

  He didn’t look at her. “I always sit there. In fact, I work through lunch most of the time and catch a bite in the afternoon when the diner is quiet. I like sitting in the sun and thinking over what I’m going to say in court. Cass doesn’t seem to care how long I stay when he’s not busy and I refill my own coffee.”

  The pieces were starting to fit together. Whoever was doing this knew Rick very well. “What else do you do routinely out of habit?”

  He rolled over and studied her as if reading her thoughts. “I usually work until after dark and go down the back stairs. I park my car behind the bookstore every day. I try to make it in to Buffalo’s one night during the weekend for wings. I eat at the Blue Moon a couple of times a week.”

  “What else?”

  “I sit in the same pew in the First United Methodist Church on Sundays with Mathesons surrounding me. I run around the park a little after dawn when it’s warm enough. I visit my mother most Wednesday nights for supper. I worked on my car, when I had one. I go out with friends. I used to date now and then, but I’ve given that up lately. I read. I watch sports on TV. I buy most of my groceries where I buy my gas. Any other questions?”

  She leaned back on the pillow beside him. “You live a very exciting life, Matheson.”

  “What do you do, Marshal? It’s only fair you tell me. After all, for all we know you were the target at the diner and not me.”

  “Okay, fair enough. I work out every morning between six and seven, shower at the gym and head into headquarters. I have a thirty-minute drive, always trying to make it in before eight. I rarely leave the office before seven because the paperwork never seems to be done. By the time I make the drive back home, it’s usually dark. I eat something that’s frozen four minutes before it hits my plate. Watch reality TV or the History Channel and go to bed by ten. On weekends, I like to ski alone in the winter, hike in the summer. Since I travel with my job, I usually try to avoid people whenever I’m off work. I have no pets. No houseplants. And would rather clean my service weapon than do my nails.”