She didn’t like leaving without him, but if she could get help for Jeff…
Don’t mention my name.
Her foot clipped a rock, and she tumbled forward. Toni posted both hands out and landed on the ground with one knee. She hissed out a breath through gritted teeth.
They were both trusting each other in this. Both had something to lose—him, his privacy and safety—and her, the life she wanted to remember.
Toni pushed off the ground and kept running.
The path wound through dense woods. It seemed to go on forever, and the shadows towered menacingly over her. She was beginning to wonder if she’d taken a wrong turn and was just about ready to give up and turn back when she spotted a house through the trees. More like a mansion, really. True to its name.
One of those old brick structures that would’ve belonged to someone seriously rich a hundred years ago—a person who enjoyed living on the edge of town who lorded it over everyone who lived and worked in the huddle close to Main Street. A place someone like her, with dark skin, may not have been welcome.
Hope Mansion. That was what he’d called it. A shelter for women and children, a place that existed to redeem those dark times of life and now provided a safe place where anyone was welcome.
She wanted to go inside.
The back door opened and a woman appeared, backlit by the yellow glow of light from within. Toni could make out her shape…and the shotgun she held.
She stumbled to a stop.
“You’ve made it this far,” the woman called out. “Don’t stop now.”
Toni approached the door. “I need help.”
“You’re bleeding.” She stepped back and admitted Toni into what looked like a mud room. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I need a phone.” How she was even going to begin to explain how she got here without mentioning Jeff’s name, or having this woman ask it, she didn’t know. And if this woman did happen to have Tate’s number, how would Toni explain everything over the phone, also without mentioning Jeff? He’d specifically asked her not to. He’d trusted her with his anonymity. Meanwhile, he was off hunting a shooter who was trying to kill her.
The woman stowed the gun on the top of an armoire. Her red hair fell all the way to the small of her back, over a pink robe cinched tight around her full waist. “Is anyone following you?”
Toni shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
The woman had her remove her shoes, then led her to a kitchen with a massive island in the center and said, “Hop up on a stool.”
Toni wasn’t sure she could muster up the energy. She was still sopping wet. Freezing. She must look like she’d been dragged backwards through a hedge. Her clothes needed to be washed again, and a rip in the knee of her jeans confirmed what the woman had mentioned when she first came in. She was bleeding. She must have scratched her knee when she fell.
The woman fetched a huge medical supply kit from under the sink full of bandages and those tiny packets of antiseptic cream.
Had she not heard her request for a phone?
“Do you want a drink of something? Water or tea?”
“Just a phone, please. It’s really important. My friend is in danger as well.” She hesitated. “He said I’d find help here.”
“You did.” The woman gently held out her hand, honesty in her eyes. “I’m Maggie.”
She squeezed it. “I’m Toni.”
Her name still sounded strange to her own ears. She was pretty sure that was her name, but something about it didn’t sit quite right. When she remembered a bit more—hopefully everything—Toni would know why she felt so uncertain about her name. Until then, she was as in the dark about that as she was about everything else that made up her life and who she was.
“Do you know a guy in town named Tate?”
“That’s who you need to call?” Maggie tipped her head to the side, her expression so much like Jeff’s that it caught in Toni’s throat.
This was his mother. The one he never saw because it kept her safe.
Maggie thought he was dead. And as much as Toni might want to resolve that misinformation and give them some healing—not unlike what Maggie gave to others with this place—he’d asked her not to, and she needed to respect that. She didn’t know enough about the situation to make a judgment call that might put people’s lives in danger.
Toni said, “I don’t know Tate’s number, but my friend said he’s the one who can help me. I’ve already met him, so he knows what we’re dealing with.”
“I have his number.” Maggie pulled out a cell phone and tapped the screen, then set it down. “Let’s get your knee seen to. Then you can tell me about this friend of yours and what’s happening.”
She had to have just sent a text to Tate. Someone who ran a shelter wouldn’t have called the police, right? And who did that via text, anyway? Still, all Toni’s instincts fired.
Maggie cleaned off her knee and placed a bandage over the biggest cut.
“How did you know I was headed for the house?”
The redhead lifted her eyes. “Do you believe in God?”
“I think so.” She couldn’t answer more honestly than that. The way Jeff’s grace prayer had affected her, she was pretty sure she had faith. It was just that she remembered nothing about it.
“He wakes me. Whether to pray, or because someone needs help.”
“Oh.” A faith in God that had Him calling on her directly? “That’s nice.”
“So tell me, Toni.” Maggie leaned against the breakfast bar. “What brought you to Hope Mansion?”
She hopped off the stool and winced when the tight skin on her knee tugged at the edges of the gash. “My friend needs help. I can’t sit here and talk, there’s no time.”
Her phone buzzed across the counter. Maggie angled the screen so she could read it. “Tate will be here in a couple of minutes.”
Okay, she could probably wait that long. “I can’t tell you what’s going on.”
“But you can tell Tate?”
Toni nodded. The last thing she needed was to succumb to the pull of allowing this woman to take care of her, and learn too much—at least any more than she already had.
She circled the room because looking at the décor was easier than staring into that assessing gaze—the one that offered a compassion she wanted to accept.
“That’s okay. Maybe God knew you simply needed a stool and a bandage.”
“My friend needs more than that, and I have to help him.” She glanced over.
Maggie nodded, though she did seem a little disappointed that Toni wasn’t sharing. “That’s my son.”
“Excuse me?”
“Behind you.” Maggie motioned with a wave. “My son Brett, his brother Jeff, and his sister Annabelle.”
Toni braced before she turned to it. Maggie stood in the middle of three younger people—all late teens by the look of it—all with her facial features. The two boys had dark blonde hair and the girl was more of a redhead, like her mother. One of the boys was Jeff. She could tell by his eyes almost instantly, even though he had both arms in the picture. How he’d lost his arm since then, she could only guess, but possibly in whatever military operation had led the world, and his mom, into believing he was dead.
“They’re beautiful.” And it was true, they were all gorgeous. More than that, contentment shone through from inside.
“Only my son Brett is still living.”
It was on the tip of Toni’s tongue to apologize when the back door opened and Tate strode in, a determined look on his face. When he saw Toni, he blinked. “You?” Then he glanced at Maggie and back again to Toni. “He sent you here?”
“He’s been shot, and now he’s chasing the man who shot him. Unarmed.”
Tate winced. He scratched at his jaw for a second. “You should come with me.”
Toni nodded.
“Is that wise?” Maggie looked between them. “I think Toni needs to rest. She might even need to be checked out by a doctor.”
“I’m okay.” She held out her hand to Maggie and got a similar squeeze like before. “Thank you for your help.”
She wanted to stay behind and be safe here, in this house. Right now, she had to go. Not try and figure out why being mothered by a nice woman with a strong belief in how God worked meant so much to her. Why she was drawn to it.
This woman had experienced so much, losing her son and her daughter. Did it happen in the same instance, or were they separate griefs piled upon one another?
“You were sent here for a reason,” Maggie said. “Do you believe that?”
She needed to go. “I have to help my friend.” Your son.
Maggie nodded. “I understand.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Toni said while grief shone in the woman’s eyes. “Really nice.” Toni wanted to hug her, but that would be weird because they’d only just met.
She turned and followed Tate outside, wondering how to help that woman. Was Toni the kind of person drawn to aid those who needed it? That would be nice. Someone defined by compassion the way Maggie seemed to be, spending her life helping women and children. This was a woman who needed to know her son was alive, if only to relieve some of the pain of loss she lived with every day.
But if Jeff died out there on his own tonight, no one would ever be able to help Maggie.
“Let’s go.”
Tate eyed her, then pointed at a compact car. “That way.”
They climbed in. “How are we going to find him?”
“Can you tell me where you last saw him?”
“The highway. By the path that ends up over there.” She pointed across the driveway, hoping that was sufficient. It seemed to be, because he gunned the engine, and they sped toward the street.
“That was a nice thing you did, saying goodbye. But don’t get caught up in what this is. You don’t know what keeps them apart.”
Toni eyed him, this complete stranger who gave up a lazy morning with his wife to help a friend. “Are all the men in this town like you guys?”
“No. What does that mean, anyway?”
“Nice guys. Good guys.”
“We have our share of bad.” Tate shrugged. “People are just people.” He pulled onto the highway and took a right.
Toni wasn’t super excited to tromp through the woods, but if it got Tate—and hopefully a gun he carried—to where Jeff was, then it would be worth it. “Are you going to tell me what keeps them apart?”
If she had all the information, she’d know how to help. Then again, the knowing could be worse. Toni might have no power to make the situation better, and she would have to live with that. She wanted to help Jeff, and now his mother too, in a way that preoccupied her.
“Do you think I should?”
He clearly kept a solid confidence. She didn’t expect him to tell her, not really. “Maybe I’m just fixating because it’s something to do, and it’s noble. Better than being frustrated because I can’t remember anything but my name. That, and a girl drowning in the ocean.”
He glanced at her. “You remember your name?”
“My name is Toni.” She frowned. “I think. It feels unfamiliar, but also not, and I don’t know why. But why are we talking about me when Jeff was grazed and bleeding?”
“You don’t need to worry about Jeff. He can take care of himself.”
Toni stared at him. “Sorry, but I’m going to.”
“I know.” Tate took another corner. “That’s why I let you come along.” He swung the car off the road onto the shoulder and threw it in Park. “Come on.”
They hiked all the way back to the lake with no sign of Jeff.
“Where is he?”
Tate steadied his dark gaze over the lake. “Good question.”
The boat had floated away and was now near the middle of the lake. “We should check the truck.” She headed for it without even waiting for an answer and found it where Jeff had left it, tucked back in the trees.
The driver’s door was open, the dome light off.
Jeff lay on the front seat, one leg out the door. Eyes closed.
Unmoving.