Sloan had been forced to return to Windemere, where she’d pleaded for help from the one person she’d hurt the most. He had agreed, and those few months had stabilized her life. The time had also allowed her to discover a love she’d never expected. For a short time Sloan had caught a glimpse of what might have been if she’d stuck around the first time. But the door of the past was shut forever, first by another woman, then by a grief unparalleled in all the years of her life. So she had returned to Nashville, where she’d begun a solo singing career, and then gone to LA and the contest. Memories from the past assailed her. She shook them off, glanced at the coffee bar. “Our coffee’s ready.”
Cole snagged the cups and returned to the table. “So how do you know Lindsey? She’s had cancer for years, but you acted surprised when I told you.”
“I’m not sure I do know her. I came to check out whether or not I do.”
“You came all the way from LA to meet someone you’re not sure you know?”
“It’s a long story, and I want to talk to Lindsey first. It’s only fair.”
He took a swallow of black coffee, studying her over the rim of his cup.
“Are you and Lindsey”—she fumbled for a word, settled on—“close?”
“We’re friends. She’s had a rough go of it, and I help out as best I can. She’s suffered enough.”
Sloan watched his expression turn guarded, his earlier camaraderie gone, and she thought better of prying more information from him. She offered one of her best smiles. “Sounds neighborly of you.”
“It’s the right thing to do.” When they finished their coffee, he stood. “In triage I was told Lindsey would go to room 303. Let’s check.”
They rode up in silence, and Sloan was fairly certain that if she said or did anything to upset the sick woman, Cole would drag her bodily from Lindsey’s room. Sloan would have to be careful.
The elevator opened into a wide hallway where a skylight threw a swath of sunlight onto cream-colored walls and a shiny pale blue floor. The place didn’t look like a hospital, but the antiseptic smell couldn’t be masked. Sloan knew she was in a hospital, all right. She would never forget that smell. She gave a small shudder, and followed Cole down the corridor.
They found Lindsey lying in a room with walls painted soft pink, on a bed covered with pale blue sheets. The slats of the automatic blinds were turned upward, allowing sunlight to give the room a rosy glow. Monitors with lines running into Lindsey’s chest kept tabs on her vital signs. When Cole spoke her name, Lindsey’s eyelids fluttered open. “Hey, sweet lady. How you doing?”
His tender side was the polar opposite of the side Sloan had first witnessed.
“Cole…” Lindsey’s voice sounded drowsy, thick. “I fell.”
“We’ve got you fixed up now.” He stroked the back of her hand, purple with bruises. “I heard your call come in and got there as soon as I could. You’re safe now.”
Her head had been draped with a soft terry cloth turban, but her skin still looked yellowish to Sloan, and paper thin, as though it could tear with any movement. Her facial bones jutted, but even so, Sloan caught a glimpse of what, with health, would have been a pretty woman.
Lindsey’s expression clouded. “There was someone…a woman….She knocked on the screen door….I thought Gloria was there, but she wasn’t….I tried to get up.”
Sloan, standing to one side and slightly behind Cole, recoiled. She had caused Lindsey to fall?
“I brought her with me.” Cole stepped away and urged Sloan closer, planted himself firmly behind her.
“Hi. I’m—I’m—”
She got no further. Lindsey caught her breath, clutched Sloan’s wrist. “Oh my gosh! It’s you. You came! You believed me, and you came. Cole! This is Sloan Gabriel. This is my sister.”
“Your sister! You never said you had a sister.”
“I didn’t know myself until a few years ago. Daddy told me everything before he died.” Lindsey cast sad eyes up at Sloan. “I’m sorry you had to hear the news about our daddy like this. I was hoping to tell you in a better way.” Her voice had a soft Southern lilt.
The news jolted Sloan. She had expected to face the man who’d abandoned her when she was baby, a man who’d vanished and left Sloan alone with a mother like LaDonna. She had many things she wanted to say to him, many unanswered questions, and now there was no one who could answer. “How did he die?”
“I want to tell you the things I know, Sloan. I have a box at the house where I’ve saved stuff to show you, old photos, but for now I’m shot full of painkillers and everything’s getting fuzzy.” Her attempt to squeeze Sloan’s wrist was feeble. “So sorry ’bout today….Come over after they send me home…please….”
“It’s okay. I understand.” But Sloan felt frustrated at being so close to learning something—anything—about her family, and being told she had to wait longer.
Lindsey shifted her gaze to Cole. “You’ll go to the house? Tell Toby I love him and I’ll be home just as soon as I can.”
“You know I will.”
Her gaze slipped back to Sloan. “Toby’s my sweet angel, the light of my life, and he worries ’bout me.”
Cole stepped in, lifted Lindsey’s hand and tucked it under the covers, bent and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest.”
“Sloan’s famous, Cole,” Lindsey mumbled into his ear. “And real pretty.” Her gaze again shifted up to Sloan.
Sloan watched Lindsey drift to sleep. Immobilized and exhausted, Sloan stood staring at the woman claiming to be her half sister. She felt Cole’s arm slip around her waist. “Come on. She’ll be out for a long time.” He led her into the hall, where she slid away his arm and leaned against the wall, profoundly disappointed. Cole braced a shoulder on the wall beside her. “Is Lindsey right about you two having the same father?”
“I don’t know. My mother never talked about him unless it was to call him ‘the dirtbag who ran out on us’ after I was born. I have no warm fuzzy memories of any Daddy.” And fewer good memories of LaDonna. “Mom never even bothered to fill in the blank for Father on my birth certificate, so when Lindsey’s email came, I was pretty shocked. And damn curious,” Sloan added. “So I hopped a plane to come check it out in person.”
“She’s never said anything to me, and we’ve had some long talks.”
His comment made Sloan wonder if his claim that he and Lindsey were “only friends” was the truth. “She wrote that his name was Jerry. Did you ever meet him?”
Cole watched a nurse coming down the corridor carrying a meds tray. “Let’s get out of the hallway. How’d you like another cup of coffee?”
She felt like having something stronger, but settled for the coffee. They returned to the cafeteria, now peppered with personnel coming on duty for a shift change. He shuttled Sloan to a table shoved into a corner, went to the coffee bar, and returned minutes later. He had remembered what she’d ordered earlier, and set the cup in front of her and took the chair across from hers. She asked her question again. “Did you ever meet Jerry?”
“No. She talked about him, though. She adored him. She was his princess.” The words went all over Sloan. She’d never been anybody’s princess. “I know she was raised in Memphis, an only child.”
Except for driving through the city on her way west, Sloan hadn’t been in the city of Memphis. Had LaDonna? Is that where she’d met the man who might have been Sloan’s father? “What happened to her parents?”
“A car accident before she moved to Windemere.”
“Why did she come here?”
“She bought the house next to mine about two years ago, but you’ll need to ask her about her past….It’s her story to tell.”
He’d cleverly fed her own words back to her, and she didn’t like it. She’d been honest with him and didn’t like him withholding information she wanted. Lindsey was very sick. Who knew if she’d be well enough to really talk to Sloan over the next few days, which was all the time she had to hang aro
und? Food trays rattled in the background. Someone across the room let loose with a loud horsey laugh.
Studying her, Cole chewed on the wooden stir stick from his cup. She was one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t forget Lindsey’s whispered words, “Sloan’s famous.” He offered a smile. “Look, I’m not trying to stonewall you, Sloan. As a paramedic, I’m trained to keep confidences. You’d be surprised at what people say when they think they’re dying on an ambulance ride. Once Lindsey is able to talk to you, she’ll fill you in.”
Sloan reminded herself that all of Lindsey’s evidence could be of no value if they weren’t related. She took a slug of her coffee, burned her tongue. “Can you at least tell me about Gloria and Toby? I’d like some answers today. I came halfway across the country to get to the truth. Please help me!”
He rested his forearms on the table. “Gloria Harrold is an LPN and Lindsey’s best friend. She came from Memphis with Lindsey and moved in to help care for her and Toby.”
“She’s a nurse?” Sloan had limited knowledge about nursing, had known only one nurse in her life. Lani’s face surfaced, but she shoved it away.
“Gloria’s a licensed practical nurse, different from an RN, who has a degree. LPNs do basic medical care and can handle most emergencies. Gloria works in an assisted-living care facility, which means Lindsey’s alone more than she needs to be.”
“And Toby?”
“Lindsey’s six-year-old son. Cute kid, in first grade, and whip smart.” The mention of the boy softened Cole’s features. “Way more grown-up than he should be, if you know what I mean. He’s watched his mama suffer a lot.”
The idea twisted her stomach. She’d grown up way too fast too. But Sloan caught on to what wasn’t being said, and asked, “In her email she signed her name Lindsey Sloan Ridley. Is she married?”
“Divorced.”
Between the question and the answer, Cole’s expression had turned ice cold. Another wall Sloan wouldn’t be able to breach. “Her story to tell?”
“Exactly.” Cole flashed enough of a smile to show his dimple. “I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind. Lindsey told me you were famous. And true confession—you do look familiar.” She rolled her eyes. He laughed. “I know, sounds like a lame pickup line, but it’s the truth. Will you fill me in?”
She wasn’t going to get any more out of him, so she slouched in the chair, considered what to tell him. “I—um—I’m a singer. Country pop. I won a contest—”
“Wait a minute!” Cole slapped his forehead. “Of course! The girl on that talent show. I should have recognized you….Everybody in town was talking about you all during the contest.”
“You watched the show?”
He looked sheepish. “Toward the end, when it came down to the finals. The show said you were from Nashville, but people in Windemere said you grew up here.”
“I spent a time in Nashville before going to LA to audition for the show.”
“Stores around here put VOTE FOR SLOAN signs in their windows. I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection before now….I blame it on this crazy day.”
“They put up signs for me?” The news was startling. She had no fond memories of Windemere while growing up, and only angry thoughts of mean girls from high school.
“People love stars.”
“I’m no star.” Not yet, she added silently. Plus, she’d jeopardized her ascent by coming here. If Terri discovered she’d lied, or at least held back the whole truth…“I didn’t come here to be recognized, and honestly, I’d rather no one recognize me. I’m the one who’s sorry. For Lindsey. I’m glad you were there this morning to help. I didn’t know what to do….All that blood…” She shivered with the memory.
“You called 911. That was the best thing to do.”
Sloan’s purse, sitting on the table, vibrated, startling them both and making them laugh. She reached inside, pulled out her cell phone, and saw she’d missed four text messages from Terri. “I have to return some calls.” She glanced around. “But not here.”
Cole rose. “Let me see if I can pry some info out of the medical staff about how long Lindsey might be here. Go back down to the ER and wait for me. I’ll drive you to Lindsey’s.”
Where her rental car and the drive to Nashville waited for her, and probably a blowup and lecture from Terri. Sloan had promised to call and check in with her publicist that morning, but hadn’t. While she rode the elevator, she read through the messages ranging from chatty to terse, her brain working on plausible excuses, and when the doors slid open, she stepped off the elevator and bumped straight into a man’s chest.
He grabbed her upper arms to steady her. “Whoa!”
“Whoops! ’Scuse me!” Sloan peered up, and her heart grabbed. She was looking into the dark brown eyes of Dawson Berke. And for an instant, time stood still.
For a shocked moment they simply stared at each other. Sloan was the last person in the world Dawson had expected to see, yet here she stood in front of him. Behind them the elevator doors quietly slid shut.
Sloan’s knees turned rubbery. It had been some time since she’d looked up into those dark brown eyes and told him goodbye. Seeing him now, tall, fit, and browned from the sun, took her breath. And then came the tumble of heartbreaking memories….
He recovered first. “What are you doing in Windemere?”
She fought to control her racing heart, and also to answer him without telling the whole truth. “Just a quick visit. I was in Nashville…drove over for the day. How about you? Is someone sick?”
“One of my construction crew got hurt a few days ago. I’m checking on him. But why are you here in the hospital?” He couldn’t forget how much she detested this place.
“I came with someone else. He asked me to wait while he checked on a friend.” Vague, a partial truth. She hoped he’d step to the elevator and go his way. He didn’t.
“You changed your name, and you won that singing contest.”
Her throat swelled shut. He’d hit the one nerve that could unravel her. “Name change meant a fresh start. I was over being Sloan Quentin.” She was over being a lot of things, and she didn’t want questions about her choice of a new name. She quickly changed the subject. “You watched American Singer? Did you vote for me?”
A ghost of a smile turned up Dawson’s mouth. So like Sloan to evade what she didn’t want to talk about. “Of course I voted for you. It wasn’t much of a contest, you know. No one else on the stage had a voice to match yours, or your talent.”
He didn’t have to say that, but it touched her that he had. Ever since they’d first met, he’d known of her lifelong dream, a small-town girl with a lofty goal, and yet here she was poised on the brink. “I’ve been told that Windemere put up window signs asking people to vote for me.”
“True story.”
“I never thought these people—” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Well…you know.”
“A lot of those kids we went to school with have moved on.”
“You mean they up and left this little corner of paradise?”
“Yes…just like you did.”
Her face grew warm with his gentle chastisement. “But you’ve stayed.”
“It’s home.” He had once thought it never would be, but if it was true what was said about home being where the heart is, then he’d found his. “And for the record, Lani voted for you too.”
His message was oblique, but she got it, and it was no surprise that Dawson and Lani had ended up together. “Tell her thank you.”
Just then she heard the clearing of a throat, glanced sideways toward the sound, saw Cole. The here and now returned with a jolt. She and Dawson turned in unison, and she offered Cole her best smile. “Cole Langston, I’d like you to meet an old friend from high school.”
The two men sized each other up.
Sloan fidgeted. All she wanted to do was walk away, because seeing Dawson so unexpectedly had opened doors that she wanted to remain s
hut. New her. New life.
“Dawson Berke,” he said, shaking Cole’s hand.
“I’ve seen you around,” Cole said, loose and friendly, all the while his head spinning over how close Sloan and this Dawson had been standing, and staring into each other’s eyes. “You from here?”
“I was a transplant from Maryland. Finished high school here.”
Sloan gritted her teeth, hoping Dawson wouldn’t divulge more.
Dawson shifted his stance and said, “You look familiar too. Weren’t you one of the EMTs who came to the Hastings’ construction site two days ago? One of my workers was hurt and I called for an ambulance.”
“That guy who fell from the roof of a new build? He had a nasty compound fracture of his right femur, simple fracture of left leg and right arm. Concussion too.” Cole offered a sheepish grin. “TMI…sorry. I may forget names and faces, but never injuries. How’s he doing?”
“I’m on my way to check on him now. You all did good fast work. The guy was in agony.”
Cole shrugged and flashed his grin. “Glad we could help him.”
Dawson reached behind Sloan, thumbed the elevator button. He said, “Nice seeing you, Sloan. You in town long?” His friendly tone didn’t quite match the cautionary look in his eyes.
“No. Just passing through. I live in LA these days. Too much green space in Tennessee for my taste.”
“Safe trip,” he said, and stepped into the elevator.
Sloan turned her attention to Cole. “Ready to leave?”
Inside the elevator, Dawson didn’t immediately send the otherwise empty car upward. Encountering Sloan had been a head trip, and he needed to regroup. The American Singer contest was a show Lani loved to watch, and so in January they had cozied up on his sofa to watch the start of its new season together. When the preselected contestants for the show had been announced, he and Lani both had been shocked to see Sloan take the stage. “Should I change the channel?” he’d asked.
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