Maggie was surprised, when she finally finished with the doctor, that Liam was nowhere to be found. Helen ushered her to an SUV, brushing aside her questions about Liam. Maggie’s knees had stopped shaking, but her nerves were still alight with adrenaline and a low, simmering anger. Imagining the wreck of the burned-out Corvette, her sister’s pride and joy, made her cringe, but not with fear anymore. In the course of telling Danny Patron, her thoughts and fear had crystallized into a sense of outrage.
Virgil was angry at their investigation of him. He’d threatened punishment and he’d delivered by almost burning her alive. Danny Patron was on his way to Bill Salvador’s home to track him down. Maggie did not have much hope that it would be a fruitful trip. Virgil was too clever.
Helen was moving so fast, Maggie could almost not keep up with her. “Where is Liam?” she asked.
Helen looked away. “He stayed at the hospital until they assured him you were unharmed. Then Danny wanted his statement. He’s there now, I think.”
“I was surprised he hadn’t texted me.”
“Um, he’s not himself right now, but he would want me to take you home. You’ve had a terrible time.”
Muscles tightened along her spine and Maggie stopped in front of the car door to face Helen. “Is Liam hurt? Was he injured trying to put out the fire? Tell me.”
Helen shook her head, a muscle jumping in her jaw. “No. Get in, Maggie. Please.”
Maggie obeyed.
Helen guided the car along the same road where Maggie had almost crashed into the train.
“What happened to Liam?” she repeated.
“He wouldn’t want me to...” Helen shook her head. “He’s really upset.”
“You know I care about him. What’s more, he’s in this situation because of Tammy and me. Please, Helen. I want to help him.”
Helen gave her a sidelong glance before answering. “I think when the tires exploded... I mean...” She swallowed and tried again. “The sound deafened him.” The last words came out shaky. “Completely.”
Maggie gasped. “Is it temporary? A doctor...”
“I don’t know. He’s scared, Maggie. Terrified.” Her voice wobbled but she forced out another breath. “He’s never allowed himself to be scared, you see. What happened to us as kids changed him. Did he tell you any of it?”
Maggie nodded. “Only a little. That your mom died and your father stopped being a parent to you.”
A half smile drifted over Helen’s mouth. “Liam must really care for you, too, if he shared that.”
Maggie did not know what to say, but she knew she was blushing in the darkness. People who cared about each other shared, didn’t they? So why wouldn’t he trust her?
Helen continued. “My mom died in an auto accident caused because my father was reaching for a water bottle and he took his eyes off the road. Dad could never get over it. He blamed himself. He became severely depressed and he couldn’t function, for the most part. He refused to see a therapist or get help.”
“How old were you?”
“I was five. Liam was seven. Liam learned... I mean, he must have been scared, just a little boy, but he learned to be in charge, to pretend everything was fine when my dad was incapacitated. He fooled teachers, social workers, everybody. I think he even fooled himself, after a while, into thinking he didn’t need anybody’s help. I wish I could tell you how amazing Liam is, Maggie. He’s been the best brother, and he always put me first. Always.” She blinked back tears. “In high school, he wanted so desperately to play baseball, but he got a job instead at the grocery store to pay our bills.”
“Oh,” Maggie sighed. “How sweet.”
“My senior year he sold his pocketknife so I could have a dress for prom.” A tear trickled down Helen’s cheek. “He loved that knife.” She laughed. “Except that he must have threatened my date with a heinous fate if he touched me, because the guy was afraid even to pin on my corsage.”
Maggie smiled but pain cleaved through her thinking about that child, Liam, forced into the role of a grown-up, father, brother, protector, pretender.
“So he laughs and jokes to the world but inside he feels things deeply and now...” Helen sniffled. “He’s so scared and alone. He won’t even share it with me.”
Maggie gripped her arm. “What can I do? How can I help?”
Helen pulled onto the ranch property and delivered Maggie to the door of the saddlery. “I don’t know. I pray every night that God would show me how to reach him or send somebody else who could.”
There in the car, Helen cried for a little while and Maggie sat with her, heart breaking for both Helen and her brother. She prayed aloud and comforted as best she could until Helen was calmer.
When she drove away, Maggie let herself into the saddlery and tried to shower off the stench of smoke. Sleep was out of the question. She’d almost been burned alive. Tammy’s car had been obliterated and she should be anticipating word from Danny Patron, but all she could think about was Liam.
Her texts to him went unanswered. She strolled along the length of his worktable, fingers trailing over the supple scraps. In the corner was a tiny leather dog, Jingles; she could tell by the crooked paws and goofy grin. It must be the ornament he was making for Helen’s Christmas tree. She set him carefully back in the corner as if he, too, was waiting for Liam’s return.
The clock ticked away the hours and finally she settled into a chair, dozing, until she awakened just after midnight, heart thudding as memories of the burning car tumbled through her thoughts. She went to the window, peeking at the bunkhouse and wondering if Liam’s truck was there. Frost covered the window, glazing the black fields, backlit by a plump moon. A spot of white gleamed in the gloom. Peering closer, her breath caught. Liam was leaning against the split rail fence, his forehead pressed to his arms. Jingles sat at his feet, staring loyally at his silent master.
Indecision cut a path inside her. Maggie had made it a habit to stay away from relationships with people outside of her family. She was friendly, helpful, cordial, but she could not recall a time when she’d involved herself in another person’s life in the way she contemplated now. Could there be a worse time, when Liam’s whole spirit was splayed open to pain and hopelessness? When he clearly wanted nothing to do with her? What could she say? How could she help? There was nothing she could do and the thought of trying pricked her with goose bumps.
But his profile was so defeated, the strong shoulders bowed with a weight that must be agony to bear alone. Helen...she should call Helen. Surely his sister would be the right helpmate, not her, not Maggie, not a person who spent more time with pasta than people. She reached for the phone when she felt the command blooming inside.
Go.
After a shaky breath, she let the strong urge take hold of her and, before she could talk herself out of it, she propelled herself out the door.
He didn’t look up at her approach, but Jingles did. The dog whined and danced tiny steps back and forth between her and Liam as if to say, “Help him. Fix him.”
Liam’s slight shift told her he was aware of her presence. She moved next to him. He must have been standing there for a long time, since tiny ice crystals had begun to collect on his barn jacket. He smelled of acrid smoke. For a moment she gazed out at the moonlit fields, putting away her clamoring thoughts and doubts and letting her God-given instincts take over.
She reached for his hand, ice-cold against hers. He did not take hers, but neither did he flinch away, his face still buried in his arm. She pulled at his hand until he was forced back from the fence to face her. But his gaze was riveted on the ground. Streaks showed where he had cried, the tears washing away some of the soot from the fire.
“I...” he said, the words dying at his feet.
She gripped his fingers and guided him to the main house. He was slow, stumbling almost, but she moved patiently. When Liam stopped, Jingles stopped, too, sitting quietly until Liam was ready to move again. The door was unlocked, as it always was, she’d learned earlier, and the house was quiet and still. She led him to a leather sofa and pushed him down onto it. Then she tipped his chin up with her finger.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She whispered the words slowly, and he watched her lips hungrily as if wishing with all his strength that he could hear her.
She got what she needed from the kitchen: a bowl and warm water. Kneeling in front of him, she took off his hat and washed the soot from his face. He withstood her ministrations, shivering as he gradually warmed, his eyes roving her face as she worked. When the soot was rinsed away, she returned the items to the kitchen and prepared them both a mug of hot tea.
She sat next to him, shoes off, feet curled up on the cushion, and they drank. When his eyes began to grow heavy, she took the mug from his grasp and wrapped a blanket around him. He looked at her then, defeat showing clear even in the dim lamplight. He started to speak then stopped. She nodded encouragement and Jingles gave the knee of his jeans a lick.
“I can’t hear,” he whispered. “Anything.” The brokenness made her desperate.
She cupped his face with her palms and stroked his cheeks until the hopelessness subsided, she thought, just a fraction. She could not help, she could not fix, or nourish, or comfort much, but she would be there with Liam as long as he needed her to be, and God would enable her to tell him that he was not alone, even if he could not hear the words.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You almost died.”
“I’m right here.”
When his eyes closed and his head fell back on the cushions, she settled the blanket more firmly around him and then fixed herself another cup of tea, keeping the lamp on to drive the shadows away.
Liam awakened, disoriented, his temples aching. His blurry vision cleared enough so he could discern he was in the main house. It must be early, predawn. Maggie was curled up in the chair across from him, cheek on her arm, asleep in the lamplight. Jingles sprawled on the throw rug, nose twitching in sleep.
He tried to make sense of it. Maggie had stayed with him all night. His memory dredged up the feel of her washing his face, stroking his cheeks, her calm certainty. Shame and wonder twined inside him and drove him to his feet. He stood there, breathing hard, reliving her gentle touch and the look in her eyes. It hadn’t been pity, had it? He could not stand the thought that she pitied him, but how could she not? She’d led him to the house like a lost child, washing his face and fixing him tea. Liam could handle anything that life dished out to him, but not to be an object of sympathy, especially not by a woman as amazing as Maggie. It was too much. He headed for the door. Jingles awakened, yawned widely and trotted after him with a shake of his collar.
“Quiet, dog,” he muttered. “You’ll wake the whole household.” And that’s when it blazed in his brain like a thunderbolt. His hearing had returned, at least some of it. He practically ran outside and snapped his fingers next to his good ear. The sound was dull and he still heard a persistent pulsing, a by-product of the explosion, but whatever part of his auditory system still functioned picked up his snapping fingers sure as shooting. Elation surged through him. He could still hear, at least for the time being.
He thanked God as he walked to the bunkhouse, trying to corral his ricocheting emotions. Chad and Mitch both stopped midsentence when he arrived, eyeballing him from the porch.
“Wasn’t sure you were going to be up for chores today,” Mitch said cautiously.
Liam’s face heated. “Helen called?”
Chad exchanged a relieved look with Mitch and nodded. “Many times since last night. She told us Maggie is okay but you were incommunicado. Hearing’s back, huh?”
He had to answer with a nod since he did not trust himself to reply.
Mitch clapped him on the back. “That’s what Jane and I were praying for, and Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus. The whole family.”
He wanted to make a joke, a wisecrack, anything to deflect the weighty emotion of the moment, but he found he could not. “I’m grateful,” he mumbled.
“Us, too,” Chad said. They stood for a moment in silence and once again Liam thanked God for his family and for their stalwart faith.
“Got a report from Danny.”
Liam almost sighed in relief. Mitch knew that Liam needed to get back on solid ground, to step away from the unpredictable feelings that ballooned inside him. His heart swelled with unspoken thanks as he listened to his brother.
“Virgil’s got an alibi,” Mitch said with a head shake.
“What?” Liam exploded, a surge of pain reminding him he had a headache. “How can that be?”
“Pizza delivery guy says he made a drop to Virgil Salvador at Bill’s house during the time the Corvette was burning. Before you ask, Virgil paid cash, so there’s no receipt proof. He said his doorbell camera was offline so he can’t provide proof that way, but the pizza kid gave a statement.”
“Obviously he paid the kid to lie for him.”
“Probably.”
Liam groaned then jerked a look at his cell phone. “I almost forgot. We have to go see Yoriko today, after chores. She said Tammy left something with her. Maybe it will help us turn up the heat on Virgil. If nothing else, it will mess up his insurance scam. He’s gonna go down one way or the other.” Saying the words made him feel better, stronger.
Chad scratched his eyebrow. “I got time. I can do your chores.”
Liam went hot again. “No need. I’m fine. Can’t get to Yoriko’s until afternoon anyway. I will tell Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus to keep Maggie close until we go.” And he hoped the delay would give him some time to figure out how he was going to approach Maggie. After he’d practically run away like a kid afraid of the bogeyman, he’d have to come up with just the right way to play it to try to reverse what she was no doubt thinking of him.
“Fine,” Mitch said, “you can help me secure the heifer that needs her second dose of meds, but before you do anything else, call your sister.”
“It’s too early.”
Mitch shook his head, looking every bit as intimidating as he no doubt appeared during his days as a US marshal. “You’re calling her now and I’m going to brief Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus on your current status.”
“But...”
“Now,” he said.
Chad gave him a “better you than me” smile and disappeared into the bunkhouse.
Liam sighed, turned the volume all the way up on his phone and thought about what kind of quip or joke he could possibly rustle up to let his sister know he was okay.
He was still swamped with the memory of the previous night, isolated, cocooned in silence and terror, when Maggie had sat with him, a steady, comforting presence. Somehow he’d known then that with her he would be okay. It no longer seemed to matter in the least that she was Tammy’s sister. She was all tender hands and heart, keeping him tethered with her calm faith. His pulse beat faster at the thought.
And what was it exactly that he’d felt in the strange hours the night before? How could he have such deep feelings for her? The thoughts twisted around inside him. He had cared for other women in his lifetime, or at least thought he had, but never like this. Never had he allowed someone like Maggie to make it through his sturdy walls.
But what kind of man was he for her? A child who needed his face washed and his hand held?
He remembered boiling water for pasta, a ten-year-old boy who could barely reach the stove. He’d left a pot holder too near the burner and it caught fire, the flames spreading to the empty macaroni and cheese box. He’d dumped the whole pot of water and pasta on the flames and doused them, but he remembered his fear when the fire had licked and sputtered its way toward the curtain. He’d tried to hide his terror from Helen when she’d entered the kitchen after smelling the smoke, assuring her he had it all under control, when he’d really just felt like running away from the burgeoning flames.
Running away, just like he’d done when he finished with the cops and the hospital. What kind of partner would flee like a scalded cat from what scared him the most instead of stand and face it? Shame tore him up inside. He had no more time to think about it as his sister picked up on the first ring.