Blaire's Ambushed Heart

by Marlene Bierworth

  Could this be the first hurdle to which Ella Milton had alluded before Blaire had married Lyle. She’d sure hit the nail on the head with her prediction, for misfortune had literally came knocking on their door, and the newlyweds had been put through the ultimate test that could have easily ended the commitment before her heart and mind had the chance to compromise. Yes, Ms. Milton had been correct in saying that no marriage remained trouble-free forever; but Blaire hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.

  “You are smiling,” David said. “I take that as a change of plans. Am I correct?”

  She opened her eyes to see David facing her with an expression of joy she felt certain was a façade.

  “I love Lyle, and now that he is my legal husband, why would I deny us from being together?”

  “That teeny little lie he kept hidden from you might be one good reason.”

  “Will you bring complete honesty to the table with regard to your shaded past when you meet the love of your life?”

  “You do have a point there,” he said. “That would scare her off before I could win her with the new and revised me.”

  Blaire clasped his hands in hers. “Oh, yes, do keep your new-found faith strong, and He will bring her to you in His time.”

  “Wouldn’t build my life any other way now,” David said.

  “You have so much to offer a woman, my dearest friend. Promise me that when you find her, you will hang on tight and live happily ever after.”

  “I must admit that I kind of wanted it to be you.”

  “We had our chance, and it wasn’t meant to be. I love my life in Spalding with the man who wears my ring.”

  “I’m jealous, but I am pleased to hear you say that. Your mopey nature of late doesn’t quite suit you,” he said, kissing her cheek. “And when I find your double, the one that sweeps me off my feet, I will, indeed, hang on and not let her slip away.”

  “I guess this means goodbye,” Blaire said.

  “Again.” He laughed. “But we need to get your trunk and bags from the train station to the stagecoach pick-up. You just wanted to test these muscles one last time, right?”

  “I could go search for Lyle and my brother”

  “No, let me do this one last thing for you.”

  “Will you tell my father that I love him and that I am very happy? And perhaps, if you decide to marry that auburn beauty in Kentucky who wants to claim your heart, Lyle and I will come home next summer to attend your wedding.”

  “You really think she’s the one?”

  “Only you will know that for sure,” Blaire said, “but we’d best get to work. I don’t want to be late for the stagecoach.”

  The trip back to Spalding was a great opportunity to catch up with the latest goings-on at Pine Crest Estate and for Timothy and Lyle to get acquainted. Mr. Frierson seemed to spend most of the time staring out the window, a distant sadness consuming his face.

  Blaire attempted to draw him into their conversation to no avail. He was closed off, perhaps fearful of what lay ahead in Spalding when he would face his runaway daughter. His outward appearance screamed perfection, but that day, the pain and grief etched on his face revealed the broken man within. She prayed for his lost soul and entrusted him to God.

  When they saw the sign indicating the day trip was coming to an end, Lyle spoke. “Well, what’s the plan, boys? Do we all land on the boarding house steps at the same time, or should one take the lead, so as not to scare her to flight?”

  “Where would she fly?” Frierson asked. “I haven’t seen civilization in hours.”

  “She’s not expecting me back until tomorrow.” Lyle looked at Blaire. “You head home and rest. I’ll bring your bags home later after the surprise encounter is done and over with.” He squeezed her hand and grinned. “Have I told you today how thrilled I am to have you back by my side?”

  Timothy laughed. “Yes, you have! Many times, but it’s nice to know my sister still blushes after four months of marriage.”

  The three men slipped away when the coach stopped, so as not to be seen prematurely should Joyce-Ann be lurking in the town. They seemed concerned about her fleeing, but Blaire’s evaluation was harsher. She’d seen the girl’s dark side and considered her more a fighter than a runner.

  When Marnie stepped out of the mercantile as Blare passed by, she jumped. Her friend gave a double-take before tears sprang to her eyes. The girls embraced. Finally, she pushed Blaire to arm’s length. “You’re back! You don’t know how pleased I am to see you.”

  “I think I do,” Blaire said. “I am equally happy to see you. True bosom friends are hard to find in this lifetime, and we have found that in one another.”

  Marnie looked around. “Is the Doc back?”

  “Yes, but shush for now—he is on a mission to find the woman who claimed to be his wife.”

  “She’s not his wife? How can a fella not know his wife?”

  “There is so much to tell,” Blaire said, “but I’m exhausted from two straight days of riding the stagecoach from Spalding to Pelican Rapids and now back again. I am eager for bed.”

  “How about tomorrow—lunch at Millie’s Diner?”

  “Or how about my kitchen?” Blaire said. “I don’t want to face the onslaught of questions from curious neighbors just yet.”

  “Right. I’ll be your test run,” Marnie said, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring the cake to celebrate your homecoming. You are staying, right?”

  “Forever.”

  “Exactly what I wanted to here. See you tomorrow.”

  Blaire did not meet anyone else while strolling to the other end of town. She stopped when the house came into view, taking in her flower garden, the front porch Lyle had extended, and the two rockers that sat there, waiting for the newlyweds to take their rightful place. She swung her handbag, unable to wipe the smile from her face, and bent down to pluck a wilted flower from the plant as she passed by. Blaire could not wait to get her fingers into the dirty soil, but that would be another day.

  The last four weeks had robbed her of energy, but knowing that Lyle would be coming home, a good night’s sleep was the best medicine her doctor husband could prescribe.

  The door opened, and she walked in, drinking in the fresh air. Had she left windows open? No, but Lyle had probably come in after she’d left town, before he’d jumped on Jasper and came to profess his undying love. She smiled in the knowledge that they were back on track and perhaps even stronger because of the set back. The only thing lacking the second time around, would be their first unborn child who had not survived to the finish.

  Blaire found some cheese in the icebox, and muffins in the pantry. She smeared her own homemade strawberry jam on the carrot muffin and bit into it. Too tired to make tea, she settled for washing it down with a cold glass of water. Blaire hummed as she nibbled on her snack, unable to stop the joy from filling her heart. She’d almost lost it all, and she wondered if this moment would ever have happened if she had boarded the train to Kentucky.

  So absorbed in her thoughts, Blaire did not hear the startled cry of a woman behind her, but she did catch her fleeing for the stairs, sending Blaire hot on her trail. She thought of yelling the woman’s real name, but she opted to keep the façade going until the men came looking for her. She assumed Lyle’s house would be their last resort, but they would eventually come—the town wasn’t that big.

  Instead she yelled at the figure topping the steps to the second floor, “Liza-Mae? Is that you?”

  There was no response. She grabbed the hem of her dress, lifted it, and followed. At the top landing, Blaire ground to a sudden halt. She stared at the gun that was pointed at her. It belonged to Lyle. The woman must have been doing a thorough search of Lyle’s belongings, for the house weapon was hidden well, and only intended for intruders. No one knew where it was except for them.

  Blaire took a deep breath. “What are you doing, Liza-Mae?”

  “What I should have done w
eeks ago,” the voice hissed. “What are you doing back here? Folks said you left for good, and I don’t want you here.”

  Blaire stammered. “I forgot some things and decided to postpone my departure.”

  “Well, too bad you came back.” A distorted grin spread across her face. “But it is good timing because Lyle is off doing the doctoring thing, so I have plenty of time to rid us of his mistake.”

  “What mistake?” Blaire said, intending to keep her talking to give the men more time.

  “Why, you, of course,” she said. “A second wife was not part of my plan. It threw me for a loop at the beginning, but I regrouped and played my cards right. Lyle is mine, and I’m not sharing.”

  “Well, I’m leaving, so I am no threat to you.”

  “Why should I believe you? You’re shaking in your boots.”

  “I beg to differ. For it is you who appears to be shaking with that gun in your hand, and I wouldn’t want it to go prematurely.”

  “I won’t be killing you in this house,” she said. “Cleaning blood off the floors and walls is not my expertise.”

  “I suppose cooking is not either,” Blaire said, remembering her previous address. Patients in asylums were surely not allowed in the kitchen. “Have you eaten today? I can cook us up something and we can talk.”

  Joyce-Ann weakened slightly. “I am hungry, and I suppose it’s only fitting that you are given the opportunity to eat a last meal on this earth.”

  Blaire turned slowly. “Well, come on, then.” On the way to the main floor, she tried to recall what was in the icebox and pantry for ingredients. She wanted whatever she cooked to take a while. If only the men would come soon—Blaire did not want either of them to die that night.

  “Do you like pork?” she asked, remembering the small roast in the cooler.

  “Meat…that will take a long time to prepare.”

  “I have potatoes and green beans from my garden, too. I can promise that the wait will be worth it.” When the intruder’s face did not soften, she added, “You did promise me a last meal, and this is my favorite.”

  Joyce-Ann glanced out the window. “Well, it is still daylight, and I don’t want anyone to see us leave the house.” As an afterthought, her face clouded with fear. “You didn’t meet anyone on the way home, did you?”

  “The streets of Spalding are bare. Most people are home, eating and settling in for the night.”

  “Good. It’ll be like you never came back. Hurry up with the grub—I’m starving. That Millie at the diner doesn’t like me, and I think she digs my food out of the swill bucket, leftovers destined for the pigs in the barn.”

  “I’m sure you are exaggerating,” Blaire said as she stoked the fire in the cookstove to get a blaze going. While it heated, she took the roast and pounded seasoning into it with a wooden-spiked meat-tenderizer.

  Joyce-Ann sat at the table, but she didn’t take her hand from the pistol.

  Blaire moved around the kitchen, preparing the meat for the oven, hoping the slow cook time would not frustrate the woman too much. When she picked up the knife to peel the potatoes, the woman jumped to her feet.

  “I didn’t say anything about knives.”

  “How else can I peel the vegetables—unless you’d prefer to do the task?”

  “No, I’d likely cut myself. I have cooks back home who prepare my meals.”

  Blaire took that as a signal to continue and asked, “Where is it you come from?”

  “California.”

  “That’s a mighty big state.”

  “You don’t need to know anything about me except that I got your man and his gun. Soon, you’ll be six feet under and growing up daisies in a nice, wooded spot not too far from here. I saw it when I went for a walk one day. I’ll go visit you on occasion.” She chuckled. “I might even bring Lyle. Let him walk all over you like he’d like to do to me.”

  “Lyle would never intentionally hurt anyone,” Blaire said.

  “He left me in that place to rot.”

  “What place?”

  “Shut up and cook.” Joyce-Ann dropped the gun onto the table and plunked into the chair again, massaging her head.

  “I have a remedy for headaches,” Blaire said.

  “I don’t want your remedy. Hurry up with the meal. The sun is going down.”

  Blaire felt a little cocky, knowing Lyle would arrive before the meal was cooked. She peeled lots of potatoes, knowing the guests might be hungry when their latest escapade ended.

  Joyce-Ann appeared to have noticed. “You’re not feeding an army,” she grumbled.

  “The leftovers will keep you until Lyle comes home from his rounds,” she said, remembering that was where the woman thought he’d gone.

  “Or maybe I’ll save them and give him a welcome home feast when he gets here.” Her voice changed from dreamy-romantic to annoyance quickly. “I’m not into sharing, Does this doctor business takes him away from home often?”

  “Every day, but you’ll get used to it,” Blaire said. “The times he gets called out of town are the longest—some folks are too sick to make the trip in.”

  “I won’t fret about it. He’ll soon forget this nuisance of a pastime when we return to the warm coast.”

  “Lyle Frazer breathes his work—you won’t take that from him as easily as you took his wife.”

  “I’m the wife, and don’t you forget it!”

  Blaire chose not to rile the woman anymore and continued to prepare the wonderful meal, now that she was assured it would not be her last, for it would be another hour before the pork was ready to eat.

  She noticed a slight movement outside. Sure enough, three men were headed toward the door, talking, which would give their presence away to the woman at the table.

  Blaire leaned into the cupboard, which held her pots and pans, and an idea to create a bit of chaos formed in her mind. When they all tumbled out on the floor, Joyce-Ann jumped to her feet and came running, but not before Blaire had glanced out the window. She noticed that the men had heard the noise because they stopped their conversation and stared at the house.

  They were so close to the front door—would the skittish woman shoot them all before she could be overpowered, or would she just kill Blaire? She tried to distance herself, for Joyce-Ann had brought the pistol with her to the cupboard, and although it hung limply at her side, Blaire sensed that the woman’s nerves had been piqued.

  Blaire didn’t move fast enough. Lyle was immediately at the kitchen door, and the distraught woman grabbed her arm and shoved the barrel of the gun to her temple.

  “What are you doing here?” Joyce-Ann screeched. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  Blaire felt the cold steel trembling against her skin and remained very still. She debated diving to trip her and give Lyle time to make his move, but then she thought of the other two men who had not shown their face in the kitchen as of yet. She’d let their final rescue play out and hope the gun would not go off in the meantime.

  Lyle inched his way toward them. “The game is over. I know who you are.”

  “You don’t know anything!” Joyce-Ann shouted.

  “I contacted your father, and he told me about Liza-Mae’s twin sister.”

  “I told you not to wire him. He’s a wicked man who lies and controls people. Surely, you remember that about him?”

  “I do,” Lyle said, so close to them now, “but he did not control us. I never met you when I was in California.”

  “It should have been her that they locked up. She was given everything and appreciated nothing while I never had a chance.” Joyce-Ann trembled.

  Blaire glared at Lyle. Did he not see that the woman had a gun to her head?

  Joyce-Ann continued to ramble on. “When I broke loose, I sorted it all out and came looking for her leftovers. Figured it was the least she could do to share her husband, seeing she didn’t need you anymore.” Her voice pitched, and the firearm pressed harder to Blaire’s temple

  Lyle win
ked at Blaire and said, “Do you realize you have the safety on, Joyce-Ann?”

  Blaire jerked back, astonished she hadn’t noticed. The next moment was mass confusion as Joyce-Ann pushed Blaire to the floor, and Lyle lunged at her. The gun flew across the room, and the couple tumbled to the floor.

  Lyle was trying his best to keep control of the flailing girl without actually hurting her, but her father had no such compassion.

  He and Timothy kicked in the back door, heightening the confusion. While Blaire’s brother helped her to a standing position, Samuel Frierson grabbed Joyce-Ann’s arm as it swung through the air and yanked her unceremoniously to her feet. She stumbled and came face to face with her father.

  “You no good excuse for a human being!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and swung her other hand, which connected to his face. With no reservations or second thoughts, her father did likewise, and she doubled over, wincing in pain.

  “I kept you behind those walls to protect you as well as everyone else,” he yelled. “The doctors say you cannot function in the real world and are safer in the asylum.”

  “The doctors hate me,” she wailed, “and you never came to visit me, not once.”

  “I paid for your room and board.”

  “And the medication that keeps me sleepwalking most of the time, but that’s how I got out. I fooled the lot of them. I pretended to swallow the pills, and when I felt my strength return, I ran for all I was worth.”

  “Which is nothing girl. You are not worth the time I spent to come and drag you back.” Samuel looked at Lyle. “You got a jail in this place?”

  “We do, but—”

  “No buts,” the man bellowed. “She had a gun ready to shoot your wife, for heaven’s sake. This is not the time for pity. I’ll give her the medicine the doctor sent with me, and she’ll have a good sleep behind bars. When the stage pulls out, we’ll be on it, and she will be manageable.”