Devon and Grace stood at the counter, watching the color drain from Cathy’s face. What had happened?
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into the phone.
A jolt of concern bolted through him and he willed the news to not be horrible. He’d been through enough of that the last year. He didn’t wish that on anyone, especially the woman that had obviously brought so much comfort to others.
He turned to Grace. “I’ll call as soon as we know anything. I can assure you that if anyone will make it happen, it’s that woman over there. She’s single-handedly taken down an assassin who tried to kill her friend. She practically runs this town and loves everyone in it.”
“It’s so nice to see a couple that’s been together so long still look at each other with that passion and fire in their eyes. You two are an inspiration.” Grace beamed at him.
“Oh, we’re…thank you.” He didn’t know why he didn’t correct her. Perhaps because, for a second, it felt good for someone to think he was life partners with such an amazing woman, someone that would brave the hardships in life without withering. “Have a good day.”
Grace nodded then shot a sideways glance at Cathy. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Me, too.” Devon watched the woman exit then turned to Cathy. At the sight of her wavering on her feet, he grabbed a chair and guided her down to sit.
“Call me later when you know more.” Cathy ended the call and her hands collapsed onto her lap, the phone limp in her fingers.
Devon knelt in front of her, lowering to her eye level. “Are you okay?”
Cathy rotated her head to the left then the right, her eyes distant.
He stroked her arm. “What can I do?”
“I wish I knew. I feel so helpless.” Cathy stroked the phone with her thumb. “I want to be there, but it’s better for her if I’m here. But it’s hard to stay behind when your best friend is falling apart.”
“Where is she? Why can’t you go to her?” Devon asked.
“It’s not that. I could drive the few hours to the hospital. It’s just, she has her family there and it’s best I stay here and keep an eye on the store. But I’m not good at feeling useless. I need to do something, but I don’t know what.”
He took her hands in his and held them tight. “I’m here for you. Anything you need, you just let me know.”
Finally, she met his gaze. “I think I need a hug,” she whispered.
“It would be my pleasure.” He guided her up from the seat then wrapped his arms around her. Holding her tight against him, he stroked her hair. It smelled like fresh lilac in an open field. Her heart beat against his chest and her cheek rested on his shoulder. He’d had women in his arms plenty of time in the last few years, but never felt such intimacy. It was…nice, nicer than any other conjugal acts he had with others. Yet, he couldn’t explain this deep connection. The feeling he could only imagine Grace felt when she hugged her husband for the first time after coming home from war. A meaningful embrace, full of hope and promise.
“That computer thing. Can you help me with a little research?”
He leaned back, and she lifted her head. Her pink cheeks remained dry, but he yearned to touch them, to see if they were as soft as they looked. They were. “Sure, I’d be happy to help.” But he didn’t want to let her go. He could stand there with her in his arms for the rest of the day and still not have enough. “What do you want to research?”
Cathy straightened and lifted her head. It was the look she had in the picture he saw online when she’d plowed her car into the SUV to save her friend. Her jaw was set with a strength he’d never seen in any woman. “I want to know about juvenile Leukemia and the ways to treat it. What kind of things help? What is the prognosis?”
Devon traced a fine line from the edge of her eye to her temple, memorizing its shape and texture. “I can help with that.” Still not wanting to release her, he took her hand and sat her down on the bar stool at the counter. Then he stood behind her and reached an arm out on each side of her to reach the keyboard. The sound of a quick inhale caught his attention, but he didn’t say anything. He only smiled at the encouragement. “Let’s see.” He typed Leukemia in children into the search engine. Pages of results appeared, with links to websites full of information.
For hours, they clicked, browsed, and read then moved on to another site between helping the customers that wandered into the shop. The sky darkened outside, as if reflecting the ominous mood in the room. By mid–afternoon, snowflakes began to fall.
“It looks like we’re going to get some snow,” Devon said.
Cathy shook her head. “It’s too early. We usually don’t get snow until January or February around here.”
“Well, you might want to tell the weather that. It looks like icy rain, actually.” He brought up another browser to check the weather report and read through the warnings for icy rain in the area. “Yep, looks like a storm’s coming. Do you want me to drive you home?”
Cathy chuckled. “It’ll take more than a few inches of sleet to worry me. I’ll be fine. Here, check this link.” She pointed a red-painted nail at the screen. He clicked and it pulled up the list of treatments for Leukemia. Chemotherapy, bone marrow transplants, and operations were listed, just as they’d been on many other sites. But this one showed the list of complications with each treatment. Not just the physical complications, but the financial as well.
Bone marrow transplant seemed like the best option but it also added an additional concern. Lack of bone marrow donors and the difficulty of finding a match means this treatment isn’t feasible for many patients, he read. In most cases, parents are not viable donors.
Cathy shot up. “That’s it. I’ll organize a way to help them with treatment. Financially and finding donors. Anything they need, we’ll be ready. And I know just who to get to help me.” Without missing a beat, she snatched her phone and started scrolling through her contacts.
The woman he already suspected to be an integral member of the community, always willing to put others before herself, demonstrated just how deep her determination went.
“That’ll be a lot of work. And there’s no guarantees.”
“Doesn’t matter. If there’s even the slightest chance it will help, I’ll do it. This is what I do. I fix things. It gives me purpose in life.” Cathy hopped off the stool. “You think you can watch things around here for a bit? I need to run an errand.”
“Sure,” Devon shrugged, “but it’ll cost you dinner. Well, your company at dinner. I’ll buy.”
Cathy shook her head. “You never give up, do you?”
“Not when the woman is worth the attention.”
Cathy rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Only because you helped me out today. Don’t think I’m falling for your charms, though, because I ain’t.”
Devon held up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream that such a sophisticated, attractive, and obviously determined woman would fall for any such nonsense.” He smiled. “Trust me. I’ll behave.”
Cathy snagged her purse and headed for the door. “Fine. A girl’s got to eat anyway.”
Devon remained standing behind the counter long after she’d disappeared. For the first time in ages, he felt like he had something worth while to focus on, besides his loneliness.
He went over to the figurines they’d unpacked and repacked them, tucking them back under the table where Cathy had found them. Then he updated the computer software on the machine, changed a few light bulbs that had gone out and even straightened the stacks of papers behind the desk. But still Cathy hadn’t returned.
Idle time was his enemy, allowing his thoughts to waver to his past and his choices. He’d let Becca run him out of New York, but not this time. After helping his best friend bury his twenty-one-year-old son, who’d died in a car accident, Devon knew he couldn’t leave without setting things right with his daughter. That was why he’d sold his house, quit his job and came to Creekside.
Had he lost his mind? Was all of this for nothing?
Images of his best friend, a broken man at his son’s funeral, stung Devon’s heart. If that had been Becca… He didn’t even want to think about it, but there was always what ifs. What if something happened to her, or him, and he never got the chance to see things through? What if she spent the rest of her life hating him for something he didn’t even know he did? He knew he had to force her to tell him what happened, and this time he wasn’t going to let her out of it. His life had no meaning without her in it, and it was time to take action.
The wall clock chimed the hour. With the store empty of customers, he kept busy by searching for the baby Jesus figurine on wholesale, auction, and trading websites, but he quickly discovered it was a much sought-after item this time of year.
Perhaps if he’d taken his family to church more they would have found the bond that people claim to have. The kind that keeps families together, no matter what happened.
Defeated, he abandoned his search and went to straighten the bedding and candles the little boy had played with earlier then picked up the candy wrappers he’d left behind. Standing, he caught a glimpse of a woman in a white coat with jet-black hair. He froze. It couldn’t be. He had to be imagining things.
The wrappers slipped from his fingers as he rushed to open the front door. A chill swept through his soul. “Kimmie?”
The woman passed a couple strolling along the sidewalk then crossed the street beyond his line of sight toward the coffee shop.
“No, she can’t be.”
He darted out the door. Running, he weaved through the few people remaining on the street until he reached the end of the building. A grayness shadowed the walkway, but there was no sign of the woman. Was he losing his mind? Seeing things that weren’t there?
He shook it off and after one more glance, trotted back to the antique store. The road was empty, not a soul out braving the freezing rain that came down harder now. Everyone had no doubt taken refuge in the diner or coffee shop. Yet, the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. He couldn’t ignore the feeling that someone was watching him. With one more sideways glance, he returned to the warm, inviting interior of the shop.
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed the investigator again. This time, the man answered.
“Harper P.I.”
“Hey, Harper. It’s West. I wanted to know if you located my ex-wife yet.”
“Hi, Mr. West,” Harper said cheerfully. Then he sighed. “Not exactly, but I’ve narrowed down the area she seems to be frequenting right now.” He cleared his throat and papers shuffled in the background. “It appears she’s somewhere in the southeast. Tennessee, to be specific.”
“Did you say Tennessee?” Devon fell onto the stool behind him. Was that really her?
“Yes, that’s right. I should have where she’s staying after I dig a little deeper. But I’m not even sure of the last name she’s using right now. She was released from a women’s correctional facility two months ago, after being incarcerated for fraud and tax evasion. Apparently, she’d been claiming dependents on her income tax forms and some other various crimes. One man even proved she’d married him then stole tens of thousands of dollars from his bank account before running off. She was released early on good behavior and prison overcrowding.” Harper sighed again. “Unfortunately, she’s not using any credit cards under her maiden or married name. But something popped for a card issued under a fake name. She must’ve still had some money tied up with that name from before she was incarcerated. She used it to buy some clothes and rent a car. It popped again for a gas station in Tennessee. I’m not sure where she’s headed, but I know how to track her now, so it won’t be long.”
Prison? Fraud? Had everything she’d ever told him been a lie. She’d spent half their savings then she told him she never loved him and left, but he didn’t know she could resort to criminal activity. He shouldn’t have been surprised, though.
“If she’s really in Tennessee, that makes me nervous. That’s where my daughter is right now. Please let me know the second you find anything else about her location.”
“I will.”
Devon eyed the box of figurines under the table. “Oh, and I have one more job for you, but it isn’t the usual detective work.”
“I’ve heard it all,” Harper laughed. “And you pay well, so shoot and I’ll let you know what I can do.”
“I want you to find a baby Jesus POC, uh, that stands for Passion of Christ, figurine and have it delivered to Creekside in care of J & L Antiques. I warn you, it’s like the Tickle Me Elmo craze of 1996. It’s a ghost item and probably impossible to find.”
“Nothing is impossible. I’ll get on it.”
The phone clicked off. Devon clutched it, praying his ex-wife wasn’t headed for this town. If so, she could ruin any happiness Becca might have found in the last two years. Not to mention his chance of finding out what happened before she ran off again.
He stood and crossed the room to the front windows. Ice began to build on the sidewalks outside. He hoped his daughter didn’t have far to walk or drive. He’d go check on her when they closed up shop, even if it was only to watch from a distance.
The clock chimed again. Where in the world is Cathy? It had been two hours since she left, and with the treacherous conditions outside, he worried for her safe return. After another hour, he gave up waiting and decided to try calling her. He searched his phone log for her number and dialed, but her voicemail immediately picked up.
Before he could leave a message, the door chimed and he looked up. “Welcome—”
His blood ran cold. Beyond the customer that had just walked in, he caught a glimpse of a woman walking along the opposite side of the street. With black hair, a petite frame, and a swagger that would turn a man’s head, he knew without a doubt who she was.
Kimmie.