Loving Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  “Do you consider me a stand-up gal, Nate?” He didn’t respond, and she could see deep reservations in his eyes at what she might say next. “Want to know what I did to a guy in the last abandoned building I was in? A guy who planned to take a fillet knife and cut Loren into chicken strips? I cut him from here,” she said, pointing to his sternum, “to here.” She skated her finger down to his stomach. “It’s shocking what stand-up people can do when faced with impossible situations.”

  Actually, Loren was the one who had gutted the degenerate, and she was the one who had almost been relegated to fish bait. But she didn’t want her sister to suffer from this kid’s opinion. She didn’t deserve it, and frankly, making a strong point was more important than maintaining this kid’s unvarnished assessment of her.

  “That doesn’t make you a bad person,” Nate defended. “You did what you had to do to protect your sister.”

  “That’s true. My point is, you never know what a person is capable of doing until placed under life-or-death circumstances.”

  They glared at one another.

  During their visual standoff, Mercy’s phone began to ring. She looked down at the screen. “Shit, shit, shit,” she spat when the name “Sugar Plum” flashed across the screen.

  She had no choice but to ignore the call.

  Because she couldn’t lie to him if she didn’t talk to him.

  Breathing a sigh, she turned to Nate, who was staring at the truck parked a few car lengths ahead of them. “I’m going to see what’s going on. You stay here with the doors locked. Do not move until I get back. Got it?”

  He nodded.

  Just then, the passenger door of the truck whipped open, and Cara jumped out, marching toward the house with her arms crossed over her chest. Landon caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm in the middle of the street.

  Mercy watched, trying to assess what the hell was going on.

  They appeared to be arguing. Cara was pulling her arm as if trying to make her way across the street to a house that likely held a low-grade crystal meth operation, or a serial killer whose hobby was crafting skin suits.

  “Whoa, Cara’s pissed,” Nate remarked.

  Mercy nodded while Landon under the dusky lamplight, appeared to be cajoling Cara back inside the truck.

  But she wasn’t having any of it.

  Time to intervene. “I mean it, Nate. Stay in the vehicle. No heroics.”

  “No heroics,” he said with a head nod and wide eyes. “Got it.”

  Earlier in the day, when Loren had arrived at Wilder’s Hardware, she wasn’t feeling her usual randy self as she was suffering from a few twinges in her belly, as well as fatigue. She chalked it up to the baby weight she had gained over the summer.

  But Alec was expecting her for their daily midafternoon tryst, and she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. Not to mention, she had furry handcuffs in her handbag just begging to be used, and by golly she was going to use them.

  She smiled devilishly. Seeing him, smelling his skin, and humping the daylights out of him had started to become the highlight of her day.

  And evening.

  Several times, in fact.

  Maybe that was just what the doctor ordered to turn her around?

  But when Alec skirted the corner with a determined and lustful look on his face, she doubled over in pain. And when she insisted on going to the restroom before him taking her to the ER, she discovered she was bleeding.

  That couldn’t be good. Didn’t she read about something like this? The warning signs of severe pregnancy complications?

  She went into panic mode, trembling as she cleaned herself, but when she stood, her vision became blurred, and she called out to Alec, asking him to help her to the car.

  He promptly picked her up in his arms and sprinted to the truck, carefully placing her onto the seat and even buckling her seat belt for her, then driving to The Wilder Methodist Hospital with one hand on the wheel and the other clasped in hers, cradling her belly.

  Once the doctor did a complete checkup, Loren was given a diagnosis of mild preeclampsia. Before they would even consider discharging her, the attending ER doctor insisted she see a specialist. Luckily for Loren, seeing Alec’s level of anxiety, they were able to get in touch with a nearby perinatologist specializing in preeclampsia, who could be there within three hours.

  By midnight, all tests were completed, and Loren convinced the attending ER physician and specialist to allow her to go home, but only if she promised to call her attending obstetrician first thing in the morning and agreed to daily ultrasounds.

  She came close to body-slamming Alec when he cornered the specialist, asking if complete bedrest until birth was a prudent approach. Despite digging her nails in his forearm and glaring at him with the heat of a thousand suns, he refused to be deterred. Not until the specialist advised that there was no real evidence of bedrest being of any true benefit for Loren’s condition and could actually cause harm by inducing blood clots.

  But if her condition worsened, it wasn’t out of the question.

  The specialist was a kind elderly female doctor with a patient bedside manner. Which was a good thing, considering Loren was about to lose her shit with Alec.

  The kind lady in the white lab coat smiled at Alec. “Mr. Wilder, I completely understand your concerns. And preeclampsia past twenty weeks of pregnancy does require special attention, but with a conscientious patient, I’m sure we can get through to the other side without serious complications.”

  That caught Loren’s attention. “Past twenty weeks? That’s not right. I’m only at sixteen weeks.”

  “I’m afraid not,” the doctor said, walking to the computer set up in the corner. “I have your original ultrasound results in your file.” She pecked at the computer keys and then stared at the screen. “According to your obstetrician at Newberry General, a Dr. Hollowell, you’re at thirty-one weeks.”

  Loren shook her head frantically. “No, that’s not possible.” She latched onto Alec’s arm and pulled him toward her. “I conceived the night you came to my room wearing the pizza delivery uniform, remember?” she said under her breath.

  “I do remember,” Alec said with a glint in his eye. “But, babe, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but do the math. We must have conceived that first week of December before returning to the Center. That would put you at approximately thirty to thirty-one weeks.”

  The doctor added, “You are small, probably from being so nauseated during the pregnancy. Interesting, according to Dr. Hollowell’s notes, you began to experience morning sickness during your second trimester as opposed to the first. Only one in five women have morning sickness during the second trimester.”

  Loren clasped her hands together and covered her mouth with a deer-in-the-headlight expression as the numbers and dates reconciled themselves in her head. “Oh my God, Alec,” she said, grabbing his forearm again but with less violence. “I wasn’t paying attention. Dr. Hollowell was telling me all the details, but all I could see was our baby on the screen while listening to the heartbeat. And then I asked them to bring Mercy and Madame into the room so they could see and listen as well. I was just so sure of the conception date that I didn’t even bother to pay attention to what she was saying.”

  “And after that first appointment?” asked the specialist while pecking on her keyboard. “During follow-ups?”

  Loren’s face fell. “I didn’t see any reason to go back. I had my prenatal vitamins and was feeling fine.” She fidgeted, aware of how silly and negligent she sounded. “I’m not very comfortable around doctors.”

  She looked at Alec and mouthed, “I’m sorry”.

  “It’s okay,” Alec said, leaning down and gently stroking her back. “So the baby comes a little earlier than we expected. Everything’s going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

  She was following his words as if mesmerized. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Nothing to worry about.”

  “No way, we�
��ve got this. We’ll call Dr. Hollowell in the morning, and follow her instructions to the letter. We’ll have a beautiful, healthy baby.”

  Despite his soothing words she thought about how she had already messed up. How could she let this happen? How could she be so blasé about the welfare of their baby? “But I’m not ready,” she said, her face heating up and her heart rate rising. “I’ve got spread sheets to update, insurance plans to research and countless breast pump brands to consider. I need time to plan the rest of our lives without making any life-altering mistakes.”

  Like not going to the doctor when she was supposed to.

  “Piece of cake,” he assured, kissing the inside of her palm. “Because we’re going to do this together. It’s you and me, Loren. We’ve so got this, babe.”

  It was well after midnight when Alec finally helped her up the front porch steps, for she refused to allow him to carry her inside. When they walked into the front room, they found Jimbo sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug in front of him and Hercules sitting at his feet.

  He stood with concern written all over his weathered face and Loren went straight into his open arms, hugging him tight as he swayed her back and forth with Hercules running manic circles around them.

  “Alec sent me texts and kept me updated,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “How’re you holding up, Half-Pint?”

  “I’m okay.” She sighed. “Now.”

  “That’s good,” he said, rubbing her back. “Your fancy grandmomma called earlier this evening looking for you, and I told her you were indisposed. I don’t have to tell you that woman gives me a fright, so you be sure to call her in the morning and let her know you’re fine.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to exonerate you from any white lies. I know she can be intimidating.”

  “Hey, Loren.”

  She pulled away from Jimbo, shocked to see Becky standing in the hallway wearing a pair of sweats.

  “Oh hey, girl, how are you feeling?” she asked, unsure if she should attempt to hug her.

  “Jimbo let me know what was going on. I’m sure you were pretty scared.”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of a newbie at all this.”

  “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Oh no, Becky, don’t think that. You’ve got enough going on. Besides, I had Alec. She smiled, and he smiled back at her. “Although there were times I thought they were going to have to prepare a hospital room for him.”

  Becky responded with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She turned to Alec. “Could I talk to you for just a minute outside? I know it’s late, but it’s important.”

  Alec shut the front door behind him, as Becky’s arms tightened around her waist.

  She looked thin and fragile, despite her face no longer covered with red and purple bruises.

  “Everything okay?”

  Her face crumpled, and tears began to pour down her cheeks.

  “Hey, hey,” he said, hugging her as gently as possible. “What’s going on?”

  After a minute, she pulled away, swiping at her eyes and gathering herself.

  “I got a call from my attorney,” she said, pulling the long sleeves over her hands and using them to dry her waterlogged cheeks.

  “When Sam was arrested, he was denied bail during the bond hearing. But my attorney called me earlier this evening to tell me he escaped from his holding cell two days ago. He said that Sam had help. Like the kind of help that is well connected, powerful, and dangerous.” New tears sprouted in her eyes. “I’m worried about Samantha. She’s staying with my Aunt Rena in Dallas, but she’s in her seventies and would be no protection against Sam. I’ve tried calling her and Samantha for the past several hours but I’m not getting through.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Give me your aunt’s name, address, and phone number. I’ll drive over there tonight and see what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll have Samantha back to you by morning.”

  “You would do that?” she asked. “I thought about calling the police and asking them to check in on them, but it would scare my aunt. And I don’t want to overreact, which I probably am because Sam doesn’t even know where Samantha is.”

  “Let me say goodbye to Loren, okay? And then I’ll head out.”

  She hesitated. “Are you sure? She’s had a big scare today, and I don’t want to impose.”

  “Just do me a favor and stick by her until I get back.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Enter Samantha’s and your aunt’s contact information in my phone. Put yours as well, and I’ll call as soon as I get there.”

  When he moved toward the door, Becky grabbed him by the arm. “Alec, be careful. Sam’s… Sam’s not right. He’s been slowly losing his grip on reality and… and he’s mean.”

  He nodded. “Don’t worry about me. I have a lot of experience dealing with people like Sam. You just worry about yourself and Loren while I’m gone. Deal?”

  Becky seemed to understand, but the concern didn’t fade from her eyes. “Deal.”

  While pulling out of the driveway, Alec called Jimbo and told him where he was going and why. He planned to be back in time to take Loren to her doctor’s appointment, but in the meantime, Alec asked him to keep an eye on the two women.

  Hours later, he pulled into the apartment complex where Aunt Rena and Samantha lived. He found the building number Becky had given him and then started to make his way to apartment 315C.

  He took the steps to the third level two at a time, even though he hadn’t slept in the past twenty-four hours and should’ve been losing steam. But his adrenaline had kicked in and his body was buzzing with energy, hyperalert at the possibility of danger.

  He rang the doorbell.

  Nothing.

  He knocked on the door and waited.

  Nothing.

  He checked the time on his phone, becoming increasingly tense and losing patience. Pulling a pistol from his back waistband, he looked to his right and then to the left, walked back a couple of steps, and then rammed his boot next to the doorknob, kicking the door in.

  Pushing back a piece of splintered wood blocking the doorway, he stepped inside. He gently closed the door behind him, even though it would no longer latch.

  He took in his surroundings, but nothing appeared suspicious or out of place in the living room and kitchen. Walking farther down the hall, he checked the first bedroom on the left which must have been where Samantha was sleeping, as the room was a wreck. Not in a suspect way, but more in a slovenly teenager way. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Samantha.

  Back to the hallway, he pushed open the door on the right and briefly closed his eyes at what he saw. It must have been Aunt Rena, lying in the middle of her bed with her eyes open and her mouth agape. As if taken by surprise.

  With the pistol held out in front of him, he crept closer, determining she must have been suffocated with a pillow.

  He dialed the police and reported the crime, and then blinked slowly as he took a deep breath and called Jimbo.

  “You with Becky and Loren?”

  “Loren’s in bed, but I think Becky’s been up for a while.”

  “Can you knock on her door and give her your phone? I have to give her some bad news, and I want to make sure you’re close by.”

  Alec gave Jimbo the rundown on his trip to Dallas and what he’d found as he heard his old friend knock on Becky’s door.

  He did his best to remain calm while he shared what he had found once arriving at the apartment, staying away from some of the more graphic details.

  The heart-wrenching sob that tore through the phone made him question whether he should have waited until morning to disclose the information. He prayed Samantha was safe and that he didn’t have to share any more bad news with this woman who had already endured so much.

  Becky asked a few questions. Alec assured her that he had informed the police about Samantha being missing, letting them know she’d likely been taken by her father, who
had escaped from his holding cell and was deemed extremely dangerous. And then she handed the phone to Jimbo.

  “Hey, man, I need you to call me after Loren makes her doctor’s appointment with her obstetrician. I’m gonna do my best to get back in time to take her, but if I can’t, I may need to ask you to help me out.”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “I think I should stay here with Becky. Is it okay if I call Madame Garmond or Mercy to take her if you can’t make it back in time?”

  “Yeah, don’t leave Becky alone, and let’s stay in touch.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I never had much interest in the piano until I realized that every time I played, a girl would appear on the piano bench to my left and another to my right.”

  — Duke Ellington

  At Mercy’s instructions, Nate hunkered down in the seat the moment she opened the car door. He peered over the dashboard as he watched her stealthily dash behind each car parked between her and Landon’s truck.

  His mind kept running through the same line of questioning. Why would Landon drive Cara to a derelict part of a town, so far from Wilder, if he didn’t want her to go inside the place he was taking her to?

  The house was more of a shack than any type of family abode, and the thought of his beloved Cara going in there and touching what had to be a cesspool of germs and other toxic substances made his skin crawl, wishing he had a tub of hand sanitizer or an industrial-sized can of Lysol to douse her down with once back outside.

  Cara was still arguing with Landon, who stubbornly held her arm, and Nate was grateful for having the foresight to encourage Landon as Cara’s first official boyfriend.

  He was kind, strong, and levelheaded.

  Of course, the relationship would eventually fizzle, based on statistics, and then he’d have to go on the hunt for boyfriend number two. He harbored a fair amount of doubt that he would have the same luck with the next candidate as the one who was now standing so resolutely between Cara and imminent harm.

  Mercy continued her dogged trek toward the arguing couple, when Nate noticed a hulking male figure from the opposite side of the street, making its way to Mercy, who was unaware of the potential danger, her sights set on the arguing couple.