An anxious dread smothered Amy, as painful as the last time it descended upon her. “They must be so afraid.”
“They probably are.” His expression told her he felt it too. That shock of learning something awful has happened to your family. The vain hope that everything will turn out all right when everything has already turned out so wrong.
“But I talked to them, and Dani will take good care of them.” He blinked a couple of times, then twisted the IV stand again. “Jonah said he’s praying extra hard. And Tabby ordered me to pick up pizza on my way home. It’s tradition.”
A small smile emerged before Amy could stop it. “You spoil her.”
“Nah, just buying her affection.”
“Quit making jokes.” She rubbed the tape on her hand, then stared at him. “Admit that you’re as scared as I am.”
“I’m as scared as you are. But we will get through this.”
“When can we go home?”
“Probably tomorrow. We both inhaled a lot of smoke.”
“Is that why my throat hurts?”
He nodded. “Mine does too.”
She leaned her head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. One question still remained. She’d avoided asking it as long as she could, but she had to know. Her body trembled beneath the blanket, and she suddenly felt cold.
“Tess?”
Brett covered her hands with his and bowed his head. “AJ tried. The EMTs tried. But she didn’t . . .”
The tears fell, a stinging stream along Amy’s cheeks. Her heart, pressed thin by hurt and sorrow, no longer seemed to beat. “Gabe needs to hear it from me.” She gulped. “No one else.”
“I’ll make sure no one tells him.”
“Tess and I were becoming friends. We were making plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“To protect Whisper Lane.”
“Protect it from what?”
“Gabe’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” She stared into her brother’s eyes, needing his strength to hold herself in one piece. “I can’t lose him.”
As soon as the words were spoken, she bent her head in despair. The weight bowing her down was more than she could stand, and she sank into the mattress, curling up into a fetal position as the sobs wracked her body.
Tears for AJ and Gabe. Tears for Tess and burned horses. Tears for losses she’d never healed from.
Brett bent near and tucked the blanket around her. “Cry it out,” he said, his own voice breaking. “Cry it out.”
Amy awoke the next morning when a nurse came to check her vital signs. Brett stirred in the nearby chair, then flashed his dimples at her when she looked at him.
“How’re you doing, sis?”
“Were you there all night?”
He grinned at the nurse. “They chased me back to my own room, but I snuck back in here this morning.”
The nurse pretended to glare at him. “He’s not a very obedient patient.”
“He’s not used to following rules,” Amy said.
“Did you sleep well?” the nurse asked.
“Well enough. When can I leave?”
“That’s for the doctor to say. She’ll be here soon.”
Amy endured the pokes and prods, then sighed heavily when the nurse closed the door behind her.
“Hungry?” Brett asked. “I know where they hide the orange sherbet.”
“No thanks.” After what they’d been through, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to eat again. The physical pain of gnawing hunger was preferable to the death grip squeezing her heart. “It’s about control,” a therapist had said in one of their group sessions at the clinic. But knowing that, understanding that, didn’t alleviate the anguish eating her up inside.
“They’ve got those little cups of vanilla ice cream too.” Though his voice was upbeat, worry lines etched his mouth and eyes.
“How many have you eaten?” Amy said.
“Two or three.”
“Before breakfast?”
“Midnight snack.”
“Have you heard from Dani?”
“We talked a few minutes ago. AJ has a few burns but nothing too serious. He’ll be home in a couple of days.”
“That’s good.” She bit her lip, then attempted a smile. “Do you remember what the media called us? After the plane . . .” Her throat caught on the painful words.
Brett snorted. “The Tragic Trio.”
The media outlets had sensationalized the story of the three orphaned rich kids when all they had wanted was to grieve in private.
“A reporter cornered me outside of school. AJ was there to pick me up, and he told the reporter to leave me alone, but the guy wouldn’t quit.”
“I’m surprised AJ didn’t hit him.” Brett unconsciously rubbed his jaw, and Amy couldn’t help a small smile. She hadn’t been present when AJ decked Brett, but she’d seen the bruise.
“AJ took my arm and stood between us. He just stared at that reporter, not saying a word. The reporter tried to goad us both into making a comment, and he said some awful things. But AJ just stared at him, and so I just stared at him too. Finally he left us alone.”
“AJ’s a good guy.” Brett clasped Amy’s hand. “He’ll get through this.”
She nodded, then swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her. “What about Gabe?”
“He’s, um . . .” Brett sighed heavily. “His recovery is going to take awhile.”
“I love him.”
“I know you do.”
“Tess said he loved me too. But he doesn’t know me. Not the real me.” Her voice grew in vehemence, and she squeezed Brett’s hand until her fingers ached. “I lie. I manipulate people. I exploit their weaknesses. Gabe would never do any of that.”
“That’s not you, Amy. Maybe it was once, but it’s not now. It’s definitely not who you have to be.”
“Just because you changed doesn’t mean I can.”
“You don’t have to let the past define you. Especially not when someone you love loves you back.”
“Like you and Dani?”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t have stepped foot in a plane for anyone else.” He rose and brushed his lips against her temple. “I need coffee. You want a cup?”
She shook her head, unsure whether she could trust her voice.
“Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see.”
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “Can you promise me that?”
He gave her a sheepish look, then took a deep breath. “‘I trusted in the Lord when I said, “I am greatly afflicted.”’”
“Huh?”
“Psalm 116:10. The first Scripture I ever memorized.”
“Shelby tell you that?”
“Elizabeth. Out of the mouth of babes.” He tweaked her foot as he walked by the bed, then headed out the door.
Little Elizabeth who had lost her dad when she was only five. He’d died a hero’s death, but that couldn’t have been much comfort for a grieving little girl.
Haven’t we had enough sorrow? Amy’s heart cried. We’ve lost so much—Shelby and her girls, Brett, AJ, and me. Even Dani. Please don’t take Gabe from us too. Please, God. Please don’t.
Amy sat up as the attending physician entered her room followed closely by Brett. After a few preliminary questions and scowling at the information on her electronic tablet, the doctor smiled at Amy.
“I don’t feel comfortable discharging you, Ms. Somers,” she said. “Your body needs rest, and I want to be sure your heart rate is stable before you leave here.”
“Something’s wrong with my heart?”
“Just a little arrhythmia. Given your past health history, another day of observation is advisable.”
“You mean because of my eating problems.” Amy’s gaze bored into the doctor’s gray eyes. “Euphemisms aren’t necessary.”
“Then I too will be direct. Until you eat, I won’t sign the discharge papers.”
“You haven’t eaten?” Brett said.
“You mean nothing?”
The doctor pursed her lips and waited for Amy to answer.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, sounding like a petulant child. She waved her hand toward the untouched breakfast tray. “The scrambled eggs are soggy, and the toast . . . I can’t eat that stuff.”
Brett flashed a smile at the doctor. “She does have a point.”
The doctor lifted the cloche to reveal a bowl of oatmeal and looked pointedly at Amy.
“So I guessed wrong,” Amy said.
“I meant what I said. You must eat or we’ll have to ensure your nourishment with other methods.”
“A feeding tube?” Amy stared in disbelief. “You can’t do that.”
The doctor leaned closer. “Watch me.”
“I don’t think she’s bluffing,” Brett said. “Tell me what you want and I’ll ask Dani to get it. She’ll be here soon. That would be okay, wouldn’t it, Doc?”
“That’s an excellent idea. Are we agreed?”
Amy turned away from them, then gave a curt nod.
The doctor left and Brett frowned at the tray. “It’s not too bad if you put a lot of sugar in it.”
“You eat it, then.”
“I might.” Instead, he slurped his coffee.
The burns on Amy’s feet increasingly ached as the pain medicine wore off. She pressed the button for another dose and felt her body relax as it immediately took effect. Perhaps this was reason enough to stay another day.
“I left my bag in Gabe’s truck,” she said.
“Paul and Jason towed it into AJ’s driveway. They probably locked it up.”
“Gabe has had that truck since he was twelve. He’s so proud of it.”
“Where were you going, before it broke down, I mean?” Brett asked.
“We were at Boyd’s. I bought bread pudding for Tess.” Her voice faded as she succumbed to drowsiness. “I guess it’s still in the truck.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Amy scooted down into the bed and pulled the flimsy cotton blanket up to her chin. Her lids grew heavy and she closed her eyes. Her body yearned for sleep, but her thoughts relived yesterday’s events as if she were watching a movie.
They’d had such a great time, she and Gabe. It was the first time she’d ever been around a man fixing his truck, and as uncomfortable and rough as the truck was to ride in, she couldn’t imagine Gabe driving anything else.
He held on to the things he loved. She prayed he’d hold on to life. On to her.
36
Logan rapped on the door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. Amy lay on the bed, an oxygen tube around her pale face, an IV tube snaking along her arm and into her hand.
Her eyes blinked open, and she gave him a faint smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. And to bring you these.” He placed a vase of pink roses on a nearby table. “I seem to remember you like pink.”
“They’re lovely.” Her voice was soft, almost ragged. “Thank you.”
He pulled a chair close to the bed and leaned as close to her as he could. “I still can’t believe you were involved in that fire. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. At least I’m alive.”
“But what were you doing there? What happened?”
“I don’t know. We saw the smoke and . . .” She turned her face away.
“It’s okay,” Logan said. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
Except he needed her to talk about it. Since she had been there, on the scene, she could give him the details the news reports left out.
“It’s nice that you came,” Amy said sleepily.
“Of course I came.” He gently stroked her arm. “Can I get you anything? Do anything for you? All you have to do is ask.”
“Can you make it yesterday again? Make it so the fire doesn’t happen?”
“I wish I could,” he said with as much sincerity as he could muster.
They sat in silence for several minutes as Amy dozed. Logan watched over her, his thoughts a mishmash of guilt and satisfaction. He hadn’t intended for anyone to get hurt. Somehow his best-laid plans had gone awry when it came to the timing of the fire. But at least Amy would recover. If Kendall didn’t, well, so much the better for Logan.
For now, he needed to prove to Amy how much she needed him, that they belonged together. And to be sure no one linked him to the arson.
Late that afternoon, Amy leaned against the chilled window of her hospital room as windswept rain cascaded from dark clouds. No lightning. No thunder. Only drenching, dousing rain. If the torrent had come yesterday instead of today, scorching flames couldn’t have destroyed the stables. AJ would be home with Shelby and their girls. Gabe might have dropped by the cottage with a Crock-Pot of chili made with Conecuh sausage.
Tess would still be alive.
A knock sounded on the door, and she heaved a heavy sigh. She’d had enough visitors traipsing through her room today. Dani had brought a hearty to-go breakfast from the Dixie Diner, which Amy dutifully ate. She’d eaten nothing since.
Well-meaning neighbors, friends of AJ’s who Amy hardly knew, had dropped in throughout the afternoon, and so did a couple of the paramedics who’d treated her yesterday. Just checking to see how she was, they said.
Cassie Owens came too, bringing garden flowers and homemade cards from Jonah, Elizabeth, and Tabby. Jason had kept the kids so Brett and Dani could visit AJ.
The knock sounded again. Heavier this time.
“Come in,” Amy said rudely.
“Ms. Somers?” The man who entered wore a black polo shirt tucked into pressed jeans. “I’m Ken Abbott, a fire investigator with local law enforcement. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’d like to talk to you if you think you’re up to it.”
“I’m not.”
“I only need a few minutes.” He joined her at the window. “My daughter goes to Glade County High School. Coach Sullivan is one of her favorite teachers. Do you know how he’s doing?”
“He’s been better.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll survive.”
“How long are they keeping you?”
She glared at him. “Why are you here?”
“Like I said, I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Can’t this wait until I get home?” She eased into a nearby chair. “My mind’s a little fuzzy from the drugs.”
“Usually, I’d say yes.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, leaned against the windowsill, and crossed his ankles. His relaxed stance exuded friendly confidence, and he clearly didn’t want her to feel intimidated. But his posture was a little too deliberate, too practiced. “But because of the circumstances surrounding this fire, it’s vital that we don’t delay our investigation.”
“You mean because Tess died.”
“Were you and she close?”
“I think we could have been. Given more time.”
“I am sorry.”
Amy nodded but said nothing. Too late she had realized that spending time with Tess was the next best thing to being with Gran. If she hadn’t shut Tess out of her life as a teenager, she’d have had the older woman’s wisdom and strength to rely on when Gran died. In the few short days they’d had, Tess shared stories about the neighborly things they’d done together. Now those memories were lost, and Amy hadn’t heard enough of them.
“Ms. Somers, were you the first one to arrive at the scene?”
“I saw it first, but Gabe got there before I did.”
“That’s Gabe Kendall, right? Mrs. Marshall’s nephew.”
“Yes. No.” She shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts. “Yes, Gabe is Tess’s nephew, but he wasn’t there first. Tess was already there. She was inside the horse barn.”
“Where were you when you saw the fire?”
“Gabe and I were on our way back from Boyd’s.” She explained how the truck had conked out, about climbing into the truck bed and calling AJ. How Gabe
had raced across the pasture toward the stables.
“When AJ and I got there, Gabe was coming out with Casper. One of the horses. That’s when . . .” She leaned forward, sucked in air, and felt her chest tighten like a vise. “It was my fault,” she gasped. “My fault that he . . .”
She could not go on. The room tilted, and she swayed as the blood rushed to her feet. Abbott caught her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back into the chair.
After hitting the call button, he handed her a cup of water. “Drink this.”
She obeyed, sucking the cold water through the straw and into her parched throat.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” The words came out in short gasps, as if the smoke were once again clogging her lungs, preventing her from breathing. “No more.”
Her legs burned, her feet and ankles sizzled in pain, and a heavy weight pressed against her chest.
If she hadn’t asked about Tess, Gabe might not have gone back into the stables. She was to blame for his injuries.
37
The following morning, Amy was sitting on the bed, fully clothed and anxious to leave, when Jonah popped in the door and jumped on the bed beside her.
“I’ve got a plan,” he said.
“Careful there, buddy,” Brett gently admonished him. “Don’t bounce your aunt. She might go flying to the ceiling and bump her head.”
“That’s not gonna happen.” His expression clearly read, “Dads are so embarrassing.”
Amy laughed, her spirits light for the first time since this ordeal had begun. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
“You’ve only been gone a couple of days.”
“Do you always have to be so practical?” She tousled his hair, then squeezed his shoulder. “I’m glad you came. Especially when I know how much you hate hospitals.”
“That’s why I made my plan.”
“What plan?”
“No more hospitals. We’ll make a pact to never go to a hospital again.”
“I’m all for that.” She pulled him close and rested her chin on his head. “What do you say we get out of here?”
He jumped from the bed. “And fast.”
When they reached the cottage, Amy allowed Brett and Jonah to settle her on the couch with the TV remote, a glass of juice, and her Kindle within easy reach.
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