Chapter 33
Heidi

Heidi was raging. Ten calls to Vicki between the memory-care facility and the Crawford home. Ten ignored calls. And she knew they were ignored, because they only rang once and then went to voicemail, and the last six calls went straight to voicemail. Vicki was snubbing her.

She hopped out of the truck before Rhett had even pulled it to a complete stop.

“Hey!” he shouted at her as she marched toward the house. Heidi heard his door slam and his footsteps close behind her. “Heidi, you need to calm down.”

Calm down. Sure. If the heartache of her mother recognizing Rhett and sharing personal history with him wasn’t enough, Vicki’s direct refusal to take her calls had tipped her over the edge. She couldn’t even find out who she was if Vicki didn’t at least talk to her! According to their mom, they were Coyles! They did have history here in Pleasant Valley. Vicki had to know more—she had to!

“Heidi.” Rhett was directly behind her shoulder, catching up to her with long strides. “Stop and look at me.”

Enough with the directives!

Heidi turned but kept walking backward, giving her hands a haphazard wave. “No. I don’t need to obey you. Go ahead. Kick me out! Send me packing! Join the club, ’cause I’m used to it!”

Rhett’s face darkened.

Heidi turned back toward the house. She yelped when he sidestepped around her, and his body blocked her from continuing toward the house. She almost rammed her nose into his chest.

Rearing back, she glared at him. “Just leave me alone.”

He touched her arm, applying a bit of pressure, like he instinctively did with Emma to calm her. “Come with me. Please,” he added for good measure.

Heidi stumbled backward. “No. I don’t need you.” She jabbed her finger at him, annoyed at the water in her voice. “I don’t need—need them,” she said and waved toward the Crawford house and Emma. “I don’t need my mom, or Brad, or-or Vicki!” She ended with a shout. An emotional, dramatic yell, and her fingertip rammed into Rhett’s chest.

She gave him a stony scowl.

“You all can take that and—and shove it.” Heidi spun and stalked toward her car.

“Heidi!” Rhett shouted after her.

She ignored him and hauled her car door open.

“Heidi!” This time a sharp command.

Whatever. She’d never listened to anyone before—and for good reason—and there was no way she was going to start now.

She dared a look through the windshield at Rhett’s thunderous expression. A moment of misgiving stabbed her. A few weeks and she could see through his Hulkish exterior. He was worried—about her. Protective. But she didn’t need protecting. No one ever had anyway, and really, if she were honest, she knew no one ever would. At least not for the long haul.

The little dive on the main street of Pleasant Valley was quaint and rustic. A typical Wisconsin Northwoods bar and grill, it was family atmosphere colliding with an old western saloon. The main room served pizza and opened to a narrower galley-style bar that opened again at the far end to a small stage. It was early evening, and a few families sat enjoying their pepperoni and cheese pizzas. Some couples ate hamburgers across from the bar. The bartender was busy pouring Mountain Dew, Orange Crush soda, and popping the tops off bottles of beer—right or wrong—in true Wisconsin style.

At the stage, the karaoke speakers were muffled, with half-blown woofers and a treble that sounded like it was being played through tinfoil. Heidi sat at a corner table. She’d hide here—in the corner—until she figured out what to do next. She’d listen to karaoke and try to pretend the corner’s shadows were the old closet she used to huddle in. It was numbing. She didn’t even need alcohol. In fact, her large Dr Pepper with ice, held in her left hand, was proof of that.

“Ironic.” A college-aged girl smiled at the karaoke DJ.

He grinned. “Alanis Morrisette. Atta girl.”

The singer stepped onto the stage. A few couples sat at tall, round tables, their smiles of encouragement welcoming. No one was intoxicated here. It was just small-town fun well before sunset.

Heidi shrank further back into her corner, eyeing the carefree expression of the girl who balanced the mic in her hands. The music started. Heidi closed her eyes. They were depressing lyrics. But oddly it fit, and the girl singing wasn’t half bad.

The music continued. A few hoots of approval from enthusiastic onlookers. Heidi took a sip of Dr Pepper. The scraping sound of a chair against the hardwood floor made her eyes fly open.

Rhett caught her gaze. Heidi took another long drink of Dr Pepper, not looking away, daring him to stay—and if he did, challenging him to understand her.

Rhett held out his hand.

A tear escaped her eye.

The background track continued to play, and the girl warbled on the minor-keyed melody.

“Please, come with me.” A small flick of his fingers, encouraging Heidi to take his hand.

He said please.

Heidi was helpless to ignore that. She stood. He followed, and together they exited the bar and grill.

They stepped onto the sidewalk. The evening air assaulted Heidi’s senses. The smell of the grill’s deep fryers mixed with the scents of the nearby river and woods. It was as close to Heaven as she’d ever gotten. She hated the fact she’d fallen for this place. She wouldn’t even think about how she felt about Rhett.

She started as she felt Rhett’s fingers graze hers, and then the callused palm fold around her hand. Heidi was in step with him as Rhett continued to walk, not saying a word. Finally, she twisted her hand so that she held his back. It was a small gesture from them both. His indication of being more sensitive. Hers of releasing some of her stubborn hurt so she could listen to reason.

They walked in silence. Heidi jogged alongside him as they crossed the road. Followed him down a gravel trail, then stopped on the embankment of the river that cut between town and the woods where the asylum lay in ruins.

Heidi let go of Rhett’s hand and wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms.

“I’m sorry.”

Rhett didn’t say anything. He stared out across the water and watched it take its rolling course over rocks and boulders, cutting the earth away a little bit at a time with its momentum.

Heidi flattened her lips as she followed his gaze. “I need to talk to Vicki—if she’ll acknowledge me. But I—I don’t have a good feeling about this. About where this is going.”

Rhett nodded.

Heidi gave him a glance from the corner of her eye. He squatted down and picked up a flat, round stone and sent it out over the water. It skipped a few times before disappearing into the depths.

“You don’t have anything profound to say?” Heidi quirked her eyebrow and curled her lip in sheepish hope.

“Nope,” Rhett replied.

“Still don’t like karaoke, huh?” she quipped. Trying to infuse humor. Anything to stop the nauseating swirl in her stomach or lighten the weight on her chest.

“Never did,” he answered.

Heidi nodded. She drew in a deep breath—cool, fresh air surrounded by water and woods that helped to calm her nerves.

“I can’t stop thinking about Thea Reed’s trunk of stuff. About Misty Wayfair. My mom. Misty Wayfair was real, you know? And all that’s left to define her tragic life is a ghost story. What kind of legacy is that? Is that all it is? Do what we can while we’re alive, and then die and let the ones left behind define who we were?”

She jammed her hands into her jeans’ pockets and kicked the toe of her mint-green Converse shoe against a pebble. She didn’t expect a response.

Rhett launched another stone into the water. His motion sent a whiff of grease and spice in her direction. It was a musky smell, the collision of work and men’s deodorant. And it was weirdly comforting.

“You’re looking at life all wrong.”

“Oh really?” Heidi turned toward him.

Rhett glanced down his shoulder at her. “Yeah. You’re all worried about yourself.”

Heidi blinked fast as tears threatened again.

“Remember when I had you shoot with the bow and arrow?”

She couldn’t forget it. Heidi nodded.

Rhett shrugged. “First thing I tell a new hunter, if they’re listening . . .”

Heidi rolled her eyes.

He continued. “I tell them when you aim, you try to keep both eyes open. You line up the sight with the target. You fix your focus. You shoot.”

“Makes sense,” Heidi said.

“You don’t look at any of the other pins in the sight. Just the one that lines you up straight. You don’t worry about the arrow either. You align yourself with the target, and you focus on it.”

“So, what’s my target then?” Heidi wasn’t quite following. “My family history? Who’s trying to burn me alive or accuse me of insanity?”

Rhett shook his head. “It’s Who made you. ’Cause everything else around us? It’s gonna fall. It’s broken. Your target is what you’re aiming for. Security. Purpose. Strength. Your Creator.”

“A foundation,” Heidi whispered. The roots of her Christian upbringing starting to shed light on where Rhett was leading her.

“Yep.” He turned back to the river.

“That’s sort of a cliché, isn’t it? Find yourself in God and forget about your circumstances?” Heidi was goading him.

Rhett eyed her. “Have you ever seen anyone really live that way?” It was a challenge.

She contemplated the question. Yes. She had. A few people she knew when growing up had seemed well grounded. Less concerned about rules and legalities and more passionate about a relationship with their Creator. She’d discounted them at the time, but then . . . Heidi met Rhett’s eyes. Maybe that was exactly what she loved so much about the Crawfords in the few short weeks she’d come to know them.

“I envy Emma, you know?” she whispered. “I don’t mean that to sound insulting or insensitive. But, she’s so—content with who she is. Your family is content with who she is.”

“There’ve been tough times,” Rhett admitted.

“Yes, but would you change her? Would you wish her to be anything other than who she is?” Heidi ventured. She worried she might sound crass. Maybe disparaging unintentionally, but she asked anyway.

“No.” Rhett’s eyes softened at the thought of his sister.

Heidi’s brows furrowed as emotion welled in her throat. “See? That’s what I’ve always longed for. That kind of acceptance.”

Rhett gave a slight smile, but his eyes lit with understanding, even under that blasted greasy baseball cap.

“Emma knows who she is. She’s not dependent on me or our parents for her identity.”

Heidi bit her bottom lip. Rhett’s eyes followed the motion. He took a step closer, then stopped. His hand came up, and his fingertips touched Heidi’s cheek.

“Mom always told Emma she was ‘beautifully and wonderfully made.’ No exceptions.”

“No exceptions?” Heidi asked, her voice hitching. The idea of focusing on a Creator instead of herself was terrifying. It didn’t make sense. It went against everything society taught. And yet . . .

“No exceptions.” Rhett’s affirmation was firm, his strength undeniable.

There was more than Heidi Lane, misfit and unwanted. There was Heidi Lane, created and wanted. She just needed to chase after the Creator.

“What happens when you focus on the target and release the arrow?” she wanted to know.

Rhett smiled. “The arrow follows your aim.”

“So, fix your eyes on the target, the rest will follow?” Heidi reworded.

“He promises it will.” Rhett nodded. Then he bent, picked up another stone, aimed, and threw it.

Heidi watched the stone fly and land in the water. Engulfed by the river—cold, refreshing, clean—the stone dropped below the water’s surface and disappeared.