They didn’t seem too concerned about Lynne’s absence, but since he couldn’t ask them where she was, he could only listen for hints in their conversation.
David presented the pizza crust now on a round pan to his father. Zane put slices of green peppers and tomatoes along with pepperoni and grated cheese on top of the dough. Then David poured on canned sauce and put the completed work of art into a hot oven.
David drank bottled beer while his father contented himself with iced tea. Heat still seeped into the house from what seemed to have been a particularly hot day, but the air conditioning blew its cool air across the room, making it livable even with the oven on.
The men ambled into the living room with their drinks, waiting for the pizza to bake. Moss went with them, aching to see Lynne and wishing they would tell him what had become of her.
Zane Hallam checked his phone, made a face, than looked up at his son. “A message from Lynne. She’s going to spend another night wherever she is.”
“She didn’t say?”
Zane shook his head.
At least she was all right. Moss relaxed a little with that news, than looked curiously at the two men. Zane was taller, heavier than his son and his dark hair was beginning to grizzle with gray in the front, but there was a strong resemblance between them. Lynne didn’t look much like either of them. She must take after her mother.
“Dad,” David said, “Do you think Lynne’s mad at us?”
Zane looked up in surprise. “Why on earth would she be?
“Because we kind of popped in on her here. Maybe we should have given her an advance alert that we were coming.”
Zane gave a snort of disapproval. “How could my own daughter be upset that I’m concerned about her? It just shows how much we care about her. I can tell you I would have been grateful to have parents that cared even a little.”
“I guess you had it kind of hard growing up?”
Zane hesitated. “You’ve heard enough about that. Kids don’t like to hear how their parents walked to school in the snow and all that,” a teasing note came into his voice.
Lynne’s brother refused to be distracted. “I’m grownup, dad, and I only know that you and mom both had quite a struggle to get where you are.”
“We’ve been blessed.” Zane hesitated a moment before going on, “It wasn’t that we were poor,” he said. “Lots of people are poor and still have good and loving families.”
“Abusive?” David asked, spitting out the painful word.
“More just neglect than abuse in my case. My parents were caught up in drug and alcohol use and didn’t seem to have any time for their children. And as we grew up, we tried to take care of them, to cure them.” A weak smile flickered across his face. “That’s the curse, as a kid you just think if you try hard, you can fix things.”
He sat in silence for a moment, than continued. “We lived on the same shabby, scary block, but things were worse for your mother.” His face took on a frozen expression and Moss guessed he was unable to continue.
“I don’t mean to whine,” he finally said. “Like I said, we’ve been very lucky, the two of us.” He smiled. “And we have four wonderful children.”
David looked thoughtful. “Figured it was something like that, Dad, and the four of us have been spoiled with attention. You and mom have always put us first and with Lynne being the baby of the family, we all try to tell her what to do. Maybe we need to step back and let her be who she is. Maybe we shouldn’t have come running out here jumping into her new life.”
His father stared at him with a mixture of hurt and incredulity. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Nobody can have too much love.”
Moss added his own thoughts, his mind divided between his own lost family and Lynne. “And it can all be gone in a moment. Everything can change from one day to the next.”
Come home, he sent out a hopeless message to her, wherever she was. Come home to me.
Chapter Thirteen
“The house is empty,” Cynthia Burden told her, taking a frozen pizza from the freezer and popping it into a hot oven. Her little daughter who had announced her hunger in loud tones sipped at her milk while she waited, hardly seeming to tune in to the conversation between the two women. “It’s been closed up for years, though I had repairs made and a cleaning service come in before Betsy and I moved in last week.”
“Daddy left us,” Betsy contributed helpfully, not sounding particularly disturbed by that fact. “And Mom wanted to come back to her old home. We’ve got plenty of room for you, Lynne.”
“Miss Hallam,” her mother corrected automatically. “Yes, you’re welcome to stay with us while you’re here, Lynne. It’s the least we can offer after you’ve come such a long way to tell us about my brother.”
“Uncle Moss,” Betsy added, glancing hopefully at the oven. “Isn’t the pizza done, Mom. I’m starving.”
“Not yet honey. Ten more minutes.” Cynthia turned back to Lynne. “The truth is I’ve known about Moss all along. I heard when the news of the accident hit the national news. Before that I was away on a trip and didn’t know anything about his being released. You see, I was so young when . . .when everything happened.” She paused to look at her daughter. “My parents protected me as much as they could and I grew up almost like an only child.”
“I understand.” Lynne nodded. In spite of the success of her mission, her thoughts kept going back to Moss. He wouldn’t know what had happened to her. A sense of urgency pushed at her, telling her she must hurry back to him.
Even so, for his own good, she had messaged her father that she wouldn’t be returning until the next day. She had to work things out here first. Cynthia, and hopefully Betsy, must be talked into returning with her.
You have a niece, Moss. And you’re going to love her.
“It was really hard when I lost my mom and dad so close together. Perhaps that’s why I married young so as to have my own family.” Her smile was bitter and Lynne knew she was thinking about the separation from her husband. Strange that the child seemed to care so little.
Cynthia got to her feet and went over to take the pizza from the oven, carefully slicing it and serving each of them a piece along with salad from a bag in the refrigerator.
Lynne took advantage of the opportunity to study the other woman. She looked so much like Moss, though of course, in stronger, more vibrant tones than those of the ghost who visited her home in the hills. She had little of her brother’s sense of calm, the gentle quietness that soothed Lynne when she was in his presence.
She suspected Cynthia had been one of those hyperactive kids who had only slowed down minimally since reaching adult status. She was thin and wiry and burning with intensity and seemed unable to sit still for more than a minute or two at a time. “Didn’t you want to see him?” she asked.
Cynthia looked at Betsy, so absorbed in her pizza that she didn’t notice or perhaps didn’t care that she was smearing tomato sauce on her face. She was fair and blonde and must look like her dad. Certainly she didn’t resemble either her mother or her uncle, though she did seem to have some of Moss’s quiet assurance.
“No, no, I didn’t,” Cynthia answered softly, looking at Betsy and avoiding Lynne’s gaze. “Not the way he is now, just lying there in a bed, not knowing what’s going on around him. I’d rather remember him the way I last saw him.” She smiled. “He was fixing a flat on my little bike and I kept telling him how to do it. We were out in front of the house together that afternoon only a short time before the police came to arrest him.”
She finally met Lynne’s eyes. “It’s not the arrest I want to remember, but the way he was helping me and being so patient. He was the best big brother. I thought he’d hung the moon.” She paused and then when she continued, she sounded near tears. “I never saw him again. Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me go near the prison, of course, and by the time I was old enough, I didn’t want to see him in that place. I told myself that was all over, all in the past, and
I just had to get on with my life.”
They sat quietly, Lynne trying to think what to say or do to convince Cynthia that she must reenter her brother’s life, until Betsy finished her supper and was sent upstairs to take her bath.
Cynthia relaxed visibly when the child was gone. “I try to be honest and not too emotional with Betsy about the bad things. Perhaps my parents over-protected me, but some happenings are more than a little girl should have to bear.”
“She seems strong. To me it’s as if she’s taking her father’s absence well enough,” Lynne answered pointedly. “Surely the trouble her uncle is in can’t mean much to her.”
Cynthia’s laughter was short and angry. “Her father never had time for her and little enough for me. From the start it really didn’t work, but I was so alone and adrift I just let it go on and on. I wanted my marriage to be good for so many reasons.”
“Sometimes denial isn’t such a bad thing,” Lynne said with a great deal of uncertainty. It wasn’t in her character to duck issues. She tended to dive headlong into them. But until now, she hadn’t been faced with anything truly important. She hadn’t lost her whole family, married young to the wrong man, and been left to raise a daughter alone and certainly couldn’t judge Cynthia.
“He loves you,” she said abruptly.
“He said that?” Cynthia asked. “Then why didn’t he come to me when he got out of prison?”
“He didn’t know where you were and felt you might not want to be reminded of the past.”
“He was right.” Cynthia got to her feet and began clearing up from their simple meal. “But I do thank you for coming to tell me about him.”
Lynne stared at her. So that was it. She had no further interest in her critically injured brother! She couldn’t allow that. She and Moss needed Cynthia’s help.”
“You don’t understand. They’re going to stop life support. He may die.”
Cynthia stood in the middle of her huge kitchen, meant to be operated by a staff of servants, and swayed slightly, having to grab hold of a chair to steady herself. “Maybe that would be best. From what I’ve heard on the news and what you’re saying, he’s suffered such terrible injuries that he can never live a normal life. It’s only kindness to let him pass on and be with Mom and Dad.”
“You can’t mean that! He isn’t ready to die he’s hardly had a chance to live. We haven’t had a chance to be together. You’re his sister.They’ll have to listen to you.”
“Are you in love with my brother, Lynne?” her voice was gentle and filled with pity. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned. Sometimes you have no choice but to let go.”
Lynne was stunned. She’d counted so much on finding Moss’s sister and persuading her to insist on more time for his recovery. But she’d already made up her mind. She’d already given up.
“If you’ll pardon me, Lynne, I have a headache and am going up to tuck Betsy in and then go to bed myself. I’ve made up the bed for you in the downstairs guest suite.” She pointed to the right, indicating the direction. “Please make yourself at home.”
She left and Lynne was left sitting in the kitchen alone and feeling close to despair. How could she tell Moss that his little sister had refused to help him.
The suite prepared for her use was lovely with autumnal colors in art and fabrics and the spare open design of the southwest. Huge windows looked out toward the sea and she stood for a long time, looking and thinking. Moss had grown up in this beautiful place and it seemed to her that she could see the little boy he’d been running across the narrow ribbon of road toward the water.
She missed him so desperately. She determined to go back home to him tomorrow, no matter whether Cynthia and Betsy went with her or not.
He never seemed to get to spend more than a few hours at the ranch house in the hills, but it was with particular disappointment that he found himself once more back at the hospital. He hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of Lynne this time and before he’d left he’d seen Zane and David Hallam packing to leave.
She was going to come home to an empty house. He lay locked in his body, listening to the activity around him, the hum of machines, the occasional sound of an alarm.
He had never been so close to giving up. He heard voices around him but they weren’t talking about him. They talked about their loved ones, about someone expecting a new baby, someone else getting married. They talked about what they would have for lunch and where they were going on their next vacation.
Life went on around him and he was left out of it. He was an object lying on a bed while life went on around him.
It was Wednesday night when she got back. Cynthia had absolutely refused to come with her and so she had lost two days of the few she had left to save Moss.
Dad and David were just leaving when she got there and instead of fussing at her for having left so unexpectedly, they apologized for dropping in without warning. “I’m sure you can manage your life without our help,” Dad said with uncommon humility. Feeling terribly guilty she tried to talk them into staying, but they refused saying they had to get back, and both kissed her a loving goodbye, then they climbed into their rental car and drove away.
She felt just awful and at the same time she was tremendously relieved. At least now she and Moss would have time together.
She hadn’t even gotten to the house when Wilda Walsh drove up the long driveway and came to a stop in front of her. “I’ve had another complaint from the hospital,” she said without greeting. “For some reason, they consider me responsible for you because I head up the board for the Maud Bailey Sandford trust. If I get one more complaint, Miss Hallam, we will have to ask you to leave.”
Lynne stared at her. What did it matter to her what Wilda thought? She had more serious matters to consider.
“We are beginning to doubt that you’re working on Maud’s journals at all. With that in view, we are scheduling a board meeting for Friday at six p.m., here at the house and will expect a full report on what you have learned so far. If we are disappointed with that report, we will have to ask you to leave.”
She backed up, turned the car around and headed back down the driveway so quickly that dust rolled from beneath the car tires.
She couldn’t get kicked out of the house. Moss wouldn’t know where to find her, couldn’t seem to control where he went even if he wanted to. For some reason, he came to this house and this farm only. She went into the house, trying to suppress a rising sense of panic.
He wasn’t there. It was all too much and for a few minutes she couldn’t seem to think clearly. It was all piling up on her.
Surprisingly her first thought was to call Mom and Dad and ask them what to do. She shook her head. No, she was not their little girl anymore and she had to think for herself.
The first problem was the meeting coming up on Friday. She had to make a good showing of being well into her research of Maud’s journals. The trouble was that she’d barely started. So far she only knew a tiny bit about Maud’s early years. Well, that was one thing she could work on. She’d get a little something to eat, and put in what was left of Wednesday evening in research.
Maybe Moss would drop by and they could work together on the larger problem of how to save him from being left to die on Monday.
Just the thought of that threat made her pulse flutter. If only she could have convinced Cynthia she needed to intervene. She had failed him.
Griping her hands into fists, she deliberately stopped this useless spin of thought. Going into the kitchen, she selected a chicken pasta dinner from the selection of frozen meals in the refrigerator and put it in the microwave. She made fresh coffee, determined to work late even though she was exhausted. She could sleep next week when this was all over and Moss was safe.
Chapter Fourteen
It was morning, he wasn’t sure of which day of the week since all days were much the same when you were in a coma, and he was back at the ranch. For an instant, his heart leapt at the possibi
lity that Lynne would walk into the living room, her face shining with pleasure at seeing him.
Fond as he was of Maud, he couldn’t help being disappointed when her tall, spare figure, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, strolled in from the kitchen. She took one glance at him, seemed to take in his state of mind, and went on to get her hat off the hook near the door. “Let’s go for a ride,” she suggested. “Being outdoors is good for what ails the soul.”
Obediently he followed her outside.
“Missing that gal?”
He nodded. “I’m always thinking when I do see her that it’ll be the last time.”
She saddled her mare while he got the big gelding ready for the ride. She didn’t say anything else until they were riding toward the open pastures. “It’s like that for all of us. When we say goodbye, we never know if we will see each other again. That’s the way of life.”
“I don’t like it,” he snapped.
She looked amused. “So life is not arranged to your liking, my friend.”
He broke into laughter and followed as she brought her steed to a gallop. The feel of the wind in his face, mixed this morning with a sprinkling of rain, blew the cobwebs from his head and by the time they slowed down to amble the uncertain terrain around the pond, he was able to make conversation in a more genial style.
“Tell me about your life, Maud,” he commanded.
She looked amused. “You mean so far? Hopefully it’s not over even though I have now reached the advanced age of seventy.”
“Many years to come,” he agreed. “What’s it feel like to be seventy?”
“Much like being seventeen except it’s harder to get up on a horse and sometimes my bones ache at night. And I’m occasionally shocked when I look into a mirror and see that old woman there.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “And I feel I should still be eighteen and just starting out on life. Instead I have this horrible nightmare about my life in prison.”
The Ghost and Miss Hallam: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas Series Book 1) Page 11