Shaken by how quickly things had gotten out of hand, Colt briefly mistook the pink-and-white clad youngster in the doorway for a hospital volunteer. She had a red rose and a pack age and a tentative expression that warranted a second glance. Jackson-blue eyes stared back at him.
Her hair was the color of ripe wheat in sun shine, and curled about her face.
Colt’s past imploded upon him. He couldn’t speak for the knot in his throat as Joy turned a toe in the way his brother C.J. used to do when he got stage fright.
“It’s me, Joy.” She tilted her head and arched a tottery smile. “Sorry I’m late.”
Colt swallowed and beckoned Joy closer. She stopped short of touching his outstretched hand and gave him the rose instead.
“Thank you.” Spellbound by fair, freckled skin, bright curly hair and fetching demeanor, Colt said lamely, “You have my hair and your mother’s eyes.”
“Jackson-blue, I know. This is for you, too,” Joy added, and gave him the package.
The paper rustled as Colt stripped it away to reveal a box of chocolates.
“Butter creams. Milk chocolate,” she said, eager for his reaction. “I hope you like them.”
“My favorite,” he said.
“Really? Mine, too!” Her smile warmed as she confided, “Mom can’t eat them. She breaks out.”
“I know. Hard to court a girl who can’t eat chocolate,” he said.
“She likes roses, though.”
“Yellow ones. I remember,” he said.
A faint crease deepened into a dimple as her face caught the sunshine peeping through the half-drawn blinds.
“Do you still love her?”
“Nice manners,” remarked Colt.
She lifted one shoulder. “Just thought I’d ask. Because if you do, I can help.”
“Help who?” he asked.
“You, if you want. If not, I’ll help me.” Shoulders back, chin squared, Joy dimpled.
“That’s what I thought.”
“So do you want help?” she pressed for an answer.
“I appreciate your concern, but I think I’ll pass,” he said.
Joy sighed her disappointment. “Forget I asked then, and open the chocolates.”
As Colt passed her the box, he noted that her chin was still up there in the nosebleed section. Like Paula’s, when she dug in her heels.
Joy also had Paula’s gift for gab. Her exuberance was music to his ears. Colt held on to each syllable as long as he could. But eventually, he lost his will to fight the overwhelming weariness. Joy’s lilting strains ran together in a soft faded hue. His awareness melted away like the chocolate in his hand as he surrendered to mental and physical exhaustion.
Paula fled to the ladies’ room. She stood with her back to the wall, Colt’s words reverberating like thunder: I couldn’t live with you then. I can’t now.
Why? The question remained lodged where it had taken root the morning she tumbled out of bed to find Colt’s terse parting note: “This isn’t working. Let’s make a clean break of it, shall we?”
Not knowing was the price she paid rushing into marriage like that. The most important relationship of her life, and she blew it. Young, impressionable, impatient, fearful of every rival glance, terrified of losing him.
A teen strolled in, saw her crying, and hurried on by avoiding eye contact. Paula sniffed and wiped her eyes and escaped into the corridor to hear herself being paged. Jake was waiting for her downstairs in the lobby.
“We’re on our way to shop for an engagement ring. We thought we’d stop and see how things are going,” he offered by way of explanation.
“Shelby’s with you?”
Jake nodded. “She’s upstairs, visiting a friend. How’s it going with Joy and Colt?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay.” Humiliated by fresh tears, Paula fought them back. “I keep thinking how different things might have been if I’d just told Colt about Joy from the beginning.”
“What’s done is done,” said Jake.
So why did she feel so undone? Unable to get quiet within, Paula led Jake outside to an open sunny space where she could relate the events of the morning without feeling like the walls were closing on her.
“Are you going?” asked Jake, upon learning of Walt Snyder’s offer of safe haven.
“How can I? And Colt says he won’t if I don’t.”
“You could go without him,” he said.
“But it’s Colt who’s in real danger!”
“He’s a survivor. He’ll fend for himself.”
That Jake’s hard-nosed attitude bothered her was in itself bothersome. Paula dropped the subject, and went with Jake to the coffee shop where he had arranged to meet Shelby.
Shelby had arrived ahead of them, and was sitting with Walt Snyder. A petite young woman with red-gold curls, she was studious in repose. But she beamed to see them coming, tucked away her reading glasses and tipped her face for Jake’s kiss.
Walt Snyder came to his feet as Paula introduced Jake.
“Monique’s book caught my eye when I came in,” explained Shelby as the men shook hands. “Mr. Snyder and Detective Browning were thumbing through it. I couldn’t resist introducing myself as the editor.”
“Where’s Detective Browning?” asked Paula as she and Jake joined Shelby and Walt at the table.
“Checking with hospital security,” Walt said. “He wanted them to know he’s posting an officer outside Colt’s door.”
“Here’s the postcard that’s caused all the excitement,” he added, and pointed out the card amid the collage of cards on the book cover. It was of Yellowstone Lodge. Both sides had been copied true to scale. The scenic side overlapped the message side just enough to obscure the postmarked date.
“You see why the card itself is so critical. Without a date, the card is meaningless,” Walt explained.
Paula was distracted from the conversation when she glanced up to see Joy angling toward their table. If her beaming face was any indication, her first meeting with Colt had gone well.
“Butter creams are Dad’s favorite, too. He dozed off,” offered Joy, her eyes as vivid as blue-eyed Marys blooming on creek banks. She turned to wing Jake an impudent grin. “You again. What are you doing here?”
“Shelby and I dropped by to see your mom a minute,” said Jake.
Paula introduce Walt Snyder.
“How do you do, young lady?” Walt surveyed Joy with quick interest and pulled up a chair for her. They chatted briefly, then Walt turned back to Paula.
Unaware Paula knew of Detective Browning’s offer to tuck them away until the danger passed, he spoke of it. “You will want to take Joy as well, just to be on the safe side.”
“Colt told me,” Paula said. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Snyder. But I don’t believe it’s necessary.”
Joy pressed prayerful hands together. “Please, Mom! It could be all the family vacations I’ve never had rolled into one.”
“With school in session? I don’t think so.” Concerned about work, and guilty that her sisters were currently doing their part for Gram as well as hers, she added, “Anyway, I miss Gram Kate. Don’t you?”
“Oh, Mom. She doesn’t even know us half the time,” groused Joy.
Paula thinned her mouth in silent reprimand. Joy lowered her eyes, looking ashamed.
Walking that thin line between good parenting and grace, Paula offered, “How about some orange juice? They have a breakfast menu, too, if you’re hungry.”
Joy ordered a soft drink instead and drank it in silence. At length, she excused herself, saying she was going back up to see her father.
Relieved she had stopped sulking, Paula said, “I’ll be up in a little while.”
Joy’s expression brightened. “Great. I’ll tell him you’re coming.” She smiled at Mr. Snyder. “It was nice meeting you, Sir. See you later, Uncle Jake, Shelby. Make that Aunt Shelby.”
Paula’s heart lifted at Joy’s acknowledgment of Jake and Shelby’s engagement. It was equally satisfying to see Shelby flush with pleasure. Joy’s departure broke up the gathering. Mr. Snyder relinquished Shelby’s book with kind words for her editorial skills.
Paula walked Jake and Shelby to the main entrance. On her way back through the lobby, she was surprised to find Walt Snyder waiting for her.
“I don’t mean to be a nuisance, but if I could have a word with you?” With a sweep of his hand, he ushered her to a nearby padded bench.
Mystified, Paula sat down.
“Colt is more than a talented writer, he’s a good friend,” said Walt, joining her on the bench. “I know about your estrangement, and appreciate how awkward that makes things. Suppose Detective Browning arranged for separate accommodations? Would you go then?”
Paula shot Walt an appraising glance. He appeared to be a careful man, not given to alarming people unnecessarily. Perhaps she should reconsider it. Vacillating, Paula asked for a little time to think about it.
“Certainly,” he said, and reached for her hand. “Thank you, Paula. I’ll be returning with Colt’s laptop later today. We can talk then.”
When he had gone, Paula made her way to the elevator. En route to Colt’s floor, she tilted her head at the sound of a distant alarm. The ringing grew louder as the elevator doors opened.
A short, slender young man in a clerical collar and dark suit was waiting for the elevator. A hat rode low on his brow, shadowing his eyes and fine-boned face. He was carrying a Bible and wore a hospital pass that identified him as clergy.
Paula stopped on the elevator threshold, holding the door. “Is there a fire?”
“No, no. Just a false alarm,” the young man replied in soothing tenor tones. “See there? They’ve turned off the racket.”
“That’s a relief!” Paula let go her caught breath. “Thank you, sir.”
“Glad to be of some help. Peace, my friend.” He lifted his hand.
Paula returned the gesture and hurried on her way. There was a cluster of nurses at a bend in the hallway. From a distance, it looked as if they were milling very near Colt’s door. Apprehensions freshening, Paula quickened her pace, only to find Joy surrounded by nurses.
“Joy? Joy! What’s wrong? What is it?” Paula bolted into their midst.
Joy burst into tears and flew into Paula’s leaden arms. Braced for the worst, Paula gathered her tight. “Is it your dad? What’s happened? Tell me, baby.”
“You have to get out of here, it isn’t safe.” Joy buried a sob in Paula’s neck and the rest of her explanation with it.
“What are you saying? Please, honey. Take a breath now, and tell me.” Paula gripped Joy’s shoulders and held her away, trying to read her face.
“This awful man!” wailed Joy, between sobs. “He asked me who I was and I told him and he said, ‘Is your mother with you?’ I remembered what Mr. Snyder said and thought he’d come to hurt you and Daddy, so I screamed. He hissed at me to hush, and when I didn’t, he grabbed me by the shoulders and he…he said…”
Paula gripped Joy’s arms, urging, “He said what? Go on, honey. Tell me!”
“‘Stop that racket! Stop it, I say! It’s a bad day to die!’ Mom, I was so scared, I lost my voice! I couldn’t even breathe until he let go and hurried away. I ran the other way. But I couldn’t find a nurse. So I broke the glass on the fire alarm and then they all came!”
Inconsolable, Joy clung to Paula, shaking and sobbing pitifully.
“He had such weird eyes, Mom,” wept Joy, fingers digging into Paula’s arms. “They were…like…haunted and desperate and…I don’t know, just weird. You’ve got to get out of here. Somewhere safe.”
The hair on Paula’s neck stood on end. But she comforted Joy, holding her, patting, offering soft murmurings. “There, there. Mom’s got you. No one’s hurt. Everything will be fine.”
A nurse discreetly urged them into an office where they were joined by the head of hospital security, who introduced himself as George McDonnell. Joy collected her composure and repeated her story.
“I thought the police had posted a guard outside your husband’s door,” said Mr. McDonnell.
“So I was told,” said Paula.
Mr. McDonnell promptly rose from his chair and went to look into it. Paula took Joy’s hand and caught up with the security man just as he let himself into Colt’s unguarded room.
Colt was sleeping. Joy whispered his name, but he didn’t stir. Turning away, she bumped the wheeled stand. A business card fluttered to the floor. The hospital security man stooped to retrieve it. He held it to the light.
“Reed Custer.” His gaze shifted to Paula. “Do you know the name?”
“I don’t think so,” said Paula, too upset to be certain of anything. “But Colt may, if we can wake him.”
A nurse who had followed them in reminded Paula that rest was critical to Colt’s healing.
As they were talking, Detective Browning arrived accompanied by a red-faced uniformed officer. Due to a miscommunication, the officer had been guarding the wrong door. The hospital was searched. But the man who had so terrified Joy was gone without a trace.
Colt awakened at dusk, still in pain but more rested. The sense of quiet peace that had accompanied his deep sleep carried the moment as he realized Paula was in the room. He recognized her favorite scent, a light fragrance that reminded him of rain-washed lilies. Turning his head, he found her with her back to his window. Her brow was deeply furrowed, her demeanor fractured. Her makeup had faded. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders. Like a cloud fringed in sunlight, she was lovely even in her disarray.
“Where’s Joy?” he asked.
“On the phone with her homeroom teacher, making arrangements. I’ve changed my mind. We’re going into hiding.” Paula’s sky-blue eyes appraised him as she came to a rest at the side of his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” said Colt.
Momentarily, her face showed relief. Then the cork came out of the bottle. Colt listened in growing alarm as she recounted in a harried rush all that had transpired while he slept.
“Joy’s involved now. I can’t take chances. Detective Browning’s with her right now. He’s going to see us safely to the airport. He also posted a man at your door,” Paula said, seeking to quiet his alarm.
“You’re leaving right away then?”
“Within the hour.”
She had every right to condemn him. And yet, she retreated without reproach and returned to the window where the setting sun had turned the sky harvest gold. Colt imagined leaves rustling as she raked her hand through bright-hued hair.
Colt stirred the top sheet with his toes. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I could tell you not to fret, but…”
“I’m not fretting,” claimed Paula. “Not about our physical safety, anyway. But I’m thinking of Joy. She wants a real family vacation. She said as much.”
“The vacation or a ‘real family?’” Colt replied.
“That’s what concerns me.”
Colt heard her draw a ragged breath and caught his own, waiting.
“The plan is for you to join us as soon as you’re well enough,” she said finally.
“Maybe they’ll bring in Burwell and his thugs right away, and you can return home,” Colt offered.
“I hope so,” said Paula fervently. “But if not, and you join us, we need to be on our toes and guard Joy against any delusions about our getting back together.”
Her warning evoked conflicting yearnings in Colt. Guarding them, he asked, “How do you plan to do that?”
“For starters, we’ll watch our words.” Paula turned back to the bed. She entreated his understanding with a graceful gesture of an up turned hand. “I don’t mean to nitpick. I mention it only because it’s the kind of thing Joy could seize upon and use to support false hopes.”
“Go on,” he said, and braced himself.
“You called me ‘babe’ yesterday.”
Colt frowned. It seemed so unlikely that he would let that long-ago pet name slip, he asked, “Was I fully conscious?”
Her skin pinked. “Before your accident. With those men,” she added.
Colt remembered, then. He hadn’t used her name because he hadn’t wanted her assailant to know her by name. He apologized, and let it go, saying, “Is there anything else?”
“Just help me protect her. Emotionally, I mean. If we’re polite with one another. Non-combative. But…well…”
“Distant?” he offered.
“Reserved.” She picked her own way. “Non-presumptuous. Considerate of one another’s privacy.”
“Fair enough. Is that it?” he asked.
“About Joy, yes.”
Anticipating, he said, “If it helps to rail on me, go ahead. I never should have involved you in this.”
“What’s done is done.” Paula paced to the window, and turned her back to the sunset glow. “There is just one more thing, Colt.”
“Oh?”
“You said you couldn’t live with me then or now, and I guess I feel the same. But it has nothing to do with Mom and Dad’s accident. I just wanted you to know that. Because if you blamed yourself then, or now…” She faltered. Her voice quavered and fell to a somber funeral parlor hush. “I don’t, and you shouldn’t, either. That’s all.”
Her words bore down on traumas too painful for the light of day. He dug his one good heel into the mattress and turned his face away. But he couldn’t escape the flooding emotions, not with her presence filling the room. Her tender spirit. Her scent. Beguiling, but painful to his parched soul.
Colt held his breath as she fingered a decorative doodad adorning her pocketbook. His heart quickened as her gaze met his.
“I guess they told you Dr. Sandrelli has to release you from his care before you can follow,” she said, filling the silence.
Colt nodded. He couldn’t withstand a move just yet.
“I should go,” she said, but didn’t.
It hurt just to breath. Wanting the goodbying behind them, Colt stretched out his hand. “Godspeed.”
Paula retraced her steps. Her hand met his. The palm he remembered from all those years ago had lost its soft plumpness. Her fingers were slim and firm and youthfully strong. Her nails were all natural, denuded of the bright polish for which she had once exhibited a fondness. Gone, too, was the lover’s touch. It was a working hand now, and impersonal. A hand equal to the multiple tasks of business and home and mothering. He squeezed what he had forfeited the right to caress.
“Give Joy my love.” Colt released her hand, and watched her go without a backward glance.
Was she sincere, saying she didn’t blame him? The idea was too new, like a stone raked from the fire. Be it a common rock or a precious cornerstone, it was too hot to inspect.