by Alana Terry
Meg frowned. “I’m sorry, officer. My husband’s in real estate. He’s got a really important meeting at six tomorrow that we can’t miss.”
Relief washed over Kimmie’s whole body until her sister’s face broke out into a mischievous grin. “But while Dwayne and I are out, I’m sure Kimmie’s free. Why don’t the two of you have dinner together?”
Each and every argument that ran through her brain died on Kimmie’s lips when Taylor leaned slightly toward her. “I’d like that. I’ll bring takeout. Does Pip like Chinese food?”
Did he? If it wasn’t chili from a can, white bread, or one of the frozen meals he ate at the daycare, Pip had likely never tried it.
“You’ve got my number.” Taylor continued to smile. He looked so genuinely happy Kimmie couldn’t bring herself to mutter some excuse to free him from this embarrassing arrangement. “Why don’t you plan on texting me your sister’s address once you and Pip are settled.”
She refused to tell him she didn’t even have a cell phone and had never sent a text in her life. For all the joy her sister derived from playing matchmaker, Meg could lend Kimmie her phone for something as simple as that.
Meg flung her hair over her shoulder like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial. “Well, then, it’s a date. We’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Kimmie plopped onto the bed as soon as Taylor closed the hotel room door behind him. Meg sank down next to her and elbowed her in the ribs. “Well, come on now, a date with Officer Chiseled? No need to thank me. Just be sure to invite me to the wedding.”
Kimmie pulled the blankets over her head. She was dying to sleep, but if truth were to be told, she was too embarrassed to let Meg see the girly grin that had spread across her face.
CHAPTER 32
That night, Kimmie dreamed she was strapped in the passenger seat of a car speeding recklessly over a bridge. “Slow down,” she shouted at the driver.
Chuck’s menacing laugh answered back. “You think this is fast, girlie? You haven’t seen fast yet.”
Pip squealed in the back seat, but Kimmie’s seatbelt was so tight it was digging into her shoulder bone. She couldn’t turn around to offer her brother any comfort.
“You’re scaring him,” she yelled, hoping Chuck would feel some degree of pity for his own child. Instead, he laughed again, filling the front seat of the car with the scent of stale beer and sunflower seeds.
“How’s this for scared?” He spun the wheel back and forth, sending their speeding car careening from one lane to the other. The bridge swayed beneath them. Kimmie gripped her seat, praying for rescue. If she reached out, if she were able to seize hold of the wheel … No, it was too dangerous. There was nothing to do. Nothing to do but pray and wait and hope that she and Pip survived.
She woke up drenched in sweat. Meg was staring down at her with a frown. “Sorry to wake you, sleeping beauty, but if I’m going to get my house ready for your hot date tonight, we need to get on the road.”
Kimmie glanced at the clock. Seven thirty? After everything they’d gone through last night, Meg thought it was appropriate to wake her and Pip up at seven thirty?
“Come on,” Meg urged. “I’ve got a hair appointment in town at noon, and I don’t want to cancel.”
Kimmie rolled her eyes. At least Meg’s real reason for waking her up this early was more in line with her character, easier for Kimmie to accept. She glanced at her sleeping brother, hating to break his rest.
Meg flung a suitcase on the bed and started to fill it. “Let’s go. He can sleep in the car.”
Kimmie didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, she and Pip probably shouldn’t linger in Glennallen any longer than was necessary, not with Chuck still running loose. She reached out her arm to give her brother a gentle shake. “Come on, Buster. Time to wake up.”
“You call him Buster?” Meg paused with a pair of heels in her hands. Who packs heels to take a four-hour drive to do nothing but pick up their sister?
Kimmie continued to focus on Pip. “Yeah. Why?”
“That’s what Mom used to call Dad when they were being silly. Don’t you remember?”
Kimmie shook her head. Back when they’d lived together, one of Meg’s favorite pastimes was playing Don’t you remember, a game in which Meg received the inherent bragging rights that came from having far more recollections about their dad than Kimmie ever would. The superiority that went along with her status as eldest daughter with the best memory was as infuriating as it was unjust. Why should Meg be the one with all the memories?
“Hey, is he always this hard to wake up?” Meg asked, studying Kimmie and her failed attempts to rouse Pip.
She shrugged. “Not always. But he’s had a hard night.” There was an edge in her voice she didn’t try to mask. What did her sister expect? Meg had no idea what Pip had gone through lately, and she never would. Yet another case of Meg’s getting all the family’s allotted dose of good luck. It wasn’t enough for her to be the prettiest, the smartest, and the one with all the memories of Dad. She was also the one who’d never had to deal with Chuck, never had to clean up his snotty paper towels or fetch his coffee sludge. As far as Kimmie knew, Meg had never been hit a day in her life, and her most pressing worry was whether or not she could keep her figure trim enough to warrant her position as a trophy bride for one of Anchorage’s most successful real estate moguls.
“Maybe you should just take the blankets off him and let the cold wake him up.”
Kimmie glared at her sister. Did driving four hours to meet her half-brother make Meg some kind of parenting expert all of a sudden?
“Come on, Pip,” Kimmie pleaded. “You’ve got to wake up.”
“If you keep snuggling him like that, he won’t have any reason to get out of bed.”
Kimmie ignored Meg’s nagging, and eventually her sister took the hint and went back to her packing. Kimmie brushed Pip’s forehead. “Does he feel hot to you?”
Meg reached out then shrugged. “Little bit, but you’ve kept him buried under those blankets all night.”
“I wonder if he’s getting sick. It wouldn’t be a surprise after he spent so much time outside.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Is that still what they’re teaching in these Glennallen schools? The cold can’t make you sick. It doesn’t work that way. It’s just an old wives’ tale.”
“Shut up.” Kimmie flung the blankets off her brother. The PA at the clinic hadn’t warned Kimmie about overheating. Had she bundled him too tightly in her worry for his safety?
“I’m serious,” Meg went on. “If anything, all the cold does is lower your immunity. It can’t actually give you a virus.”
“I said shut up.” Kimmie stood Pip on the ground and watched anxiously while he blinked his sleepy eyes awake. “Are you all right, Buster?” She wished Meg hadn’t mentioned that being one of their mom’s pet names for their dad. She was going to feel self-conscious now each and every time she used it. “Pip? Are you all right?”
He scrunched up his face.
“I think he needs to see a doctor,” Kimmie announced.
Meg threw a fancy handbag into her suitcase. “He’s probably just tired.”
“He looks like he’s in pain.”
Meg shrugged. “That’s how I look every morning before I put on my makeup.”
I bet it is, Kimmie thought to herself. She sat down on the edge of their bed and took Pip into her arms. “Does something hurt,” she asked him, “or are you just tired, buddy?”
He winced.
“Can you show me what hurts?” Kimmie ignored her sister’s melodramatic sigh. Meg was probably worried about that hair appointment she’d miss if they didn’t get on the road soon. Hair like that probably had to be touched up once or twice a month. With as much as Meg was sure to be paying her stylist, the hairdresser could afford to reschedule.
“Something’s really wrong. I think we better get him checked out.”
&n
bsp; “Fine,” Meg huffed as she zipped her overstuffed suitcase shut. “But you don’t want to take him to this Glennallen hole in wall. I mean, it’s fine for something like last night when you need quick attention right away, but for childhood illnesses, you really should see a specialist. Does that tiny little clinic here even have a pediatrician on staff?”
Kimmie had spent all of Pip’s life worrying herself sick over every minor injury or sniffle, hating that his father was too cheap to allow him to get proper medical care. Now that Chuck was out of the picture, there was no way Kimmie was going to relinquish her decision-making authority, handing the responsibility over to someone who hardly even knew her brother.
“The Copper River Clinic’s closest,” she argued. “Let’s just stop by there on the way out of town.” She thought about the Cole twins who’d been out of the daycare with strep throat and hoped Pip hadn’t picked up something like that.
She put her finger on his chin. “Open your mouth like this. “Let me take a look.”
“Good grief, Kimberly,” Meg whined. “You’re not a nurse.”
No, but I’m his sister, which is more than you’re acting like at the moment. She kept the retort unspoken and tried to look in Pip’s mouth.
All she could see was black. “You have a flashlight or something?”
Meg crossed her arms. “Do you even know what you’re looking for? Does working part-time at a daycare all of a sudden make you an expert in childhood illnesses?”
“Do you have a flashlight or not?” she repeated. “All I need is a simple yes or no.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Use my cell.” She tossed her phone onto the blanket and then let out a loud and frustrated sigh when Kimmie asked her how to turn on the light.
“I can’t believe you don’t even know how to use a cell phone.”
Kimmie ignored the remark. “Now say ‘ah,’” she told her brother.
“Do you even know if he understands a word you’re saying?” Meg asked as she stared into the mirror above the dresser applying her mascara.
Kimmie heard the question, but as she shined the light, she realized Meg was right about one thing. She really didn’t know what she was looking for. Pip’s throat was bright red, but maybe that’s the color it always was.
She tried to figure out how to turn the light off when Meg finally yanked it out of her hands and did it herself. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Kimmie ignored her sister’s sarcasm. “I want to take him to the clinic before we head out of town.”
“If you wait a few hours, I have a friend with a kid about that age. I actually borrowed her car seat for Pip’s drive to Anchorage. She takes her son to a naturopath in Eagle River, says she’s a miracle worker.”
“I don’t want a naturopath,” Kimmie snapped. “And I don’t need a miracle worker. I just want someone to check him out and let me know if something’s wrong.”
“Of course something’s wrong,” Meg replied. “The kid’s three and doesn’t even talk yet. Which reminds me, I have a number for you to call once we get you settled in. There’s a state program for kids with special needs, where they’ll come right to your house.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Kimmie wondered how she and her sister would survive the long drive to Anchorage, let alone coexist under the same roof until Kimmie found a place of her own. It was a good thing Meg had a mansion where they’d have plenty of space so hopefully Kimmie and her brother could keep to themselves.
Meg stared at Kimmie, who felt like she was now expected to apologize for her outburst. Instead she gave Pip a little squeeze, straightened out his rumpled clothes, and said, “Let’s find where that nice trooper put your shoes last night and then we’ll take a quick visit to say hi to the nurse.” She shot a look at her sister, who managed to roll her eyes while applying her eye makeup.
“Fine with me. While you’re in with the nurse PA or whoever they’ve got working there, I guess I’ll call my hairstylist and cancel that appointment.”
CHAPTER 33
The clinic was only a few minutes away from the hotel, but Kimmie was shaking by the time Meg pulled up in front of the building. She didn’t know if it was her body reliving last night’s trauma or the adrenaline in her system from fighting with her sister. Maybe both.
“You coming in?” she asked Meg, who was still buckled in the driver’s seat.
“Go on ahead. I’ve got some phone calls to make.” Meg adjusted the rearview mirror so she could look at herself as she reapplied her lipstick. Ignoring her, Kimmie helped Pip out of his car seat. “Come on, Buster,” she whispered in his ear. “Let’s see if the nurses here can do anything to help you feel better.”
After checking her brother in, Kimmie sat down with Pip on her lap and started reading a magazine. In the corner, two kids around Pip’s age were playing in the children’s area, stacking blocks and coloring while their mom scrolled on her cell phone.
Kimmie was exhausted. One nice thing about driving all the way to Anchorage with Meg was her sister was a coffee snob and probably knew the best place in the area to get a hot drink.
“Well, fancy seeing you two here.”
Kimmie turned around at the familiar voice as a smile worked its way to her lips. “Look, Pip. It’s Trooper Tanner.”
“Call me Taylor, okay?” He stood above them, staring down in a way that reminded Kimmie just how tall he was. He grinned and sat down next to her, and she wondered if she smelled as gross and looked as tired as she suspected.
Taylor reached over and offered a playful pout to Pip, who was frowning and leaning against Kimmie’s chest. “Everything all right?”
“He woke up with a little bit of a fever,” she explained.
Taylor tousled Pip’s hair. “Poor little thing.”
Kimmie wondered what else she was supposed to say. It wasn’t like she had any practice running into handsome troopers in doctor’s offices, but she figured it wasn’t polite to ask something like, “So, what are you doing here?” She stared at her hands resting on Pip’s legs.
“Did you both sleep okay at the hotel?” Taylor asked.
She nodded, pressing her lips together, trying to figure out why her brain had suddenly grown incapable of carrying on a simple conversation. Behind them, the two kids argued over a broken crayon until their mom barked at them.
Taylor stretched out his legs, looking perfectly at ease. “So, we still on for dinner tonight?”
Kimmie flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. My sister can be kind of a handful.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem like something you need to apologize for, does it?” Taylor asked with a grin.
“No.” She tried to smile. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you were forced into anything you didn’t want to do.”
Taylor chuckled. “I hate driving to Anchorage. I rarely go in. I’m only doing it because I owe my buddy a pretty big favor. He doesn’t have anyone else to take him in time to catch his flight.”
“Does he need a ride?” Kimmie asked. “We’ve got room in the back seat.”
Taylor shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t asking you to drive him in. I’m just saying that knowing I’ll be ending the day with you and your brother and some great Chinese food is going to keep me from getting grumpy on the road.”
Kimmie smiled and forced herself to look away before her flush deepened.
“Pippin Jenkins?” The nurse called out. “Ready for you now.”
Kimmie set her brother down and stood up, facing Taylor. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” She felt silly stretching out her hand as if she were an applicant who’d just finished a job interview, but Taylor pressed it warmly.
“I’ll be looking forward to this evening.” His smile made her warmer than she’d been all fall.
As she walked with Pip toward the nurse, she felt Taylor’s kind gaze following them, somewhat surprised
to realize that she was looking forward to their dinner tonight just as much as he was.
CHAPTER 34
“We’ll get those results from the strep test back in a few minutes,” the PA explained. Kimmie was still sweating from having to hold Pip down while the physician’s assistant tried to swab the back of his throat.
Tabitha scowled at her pad of paper. “May as well write him a prescription now, because I can pretty much guarantee it’s going to come back positive.”
Kimmie felt much more comfortable with the PA she met last night than the one examining Pip today. Tabitha was old and ill-humored and made Kimmie wonder if she had outlived her lifetime dose of both compassion and bedside manners. She stopped scribbling and looked up.
“How old did you say your son is?”
Kimmie had explained earlier that Pip was her brother, but this was the second time since then Tabitha had made the same mistake. It wasn’t worth correcting the PA again, so Kimmie just answered, “Three.”
Tabitha still stood, frozen, with her pen poised over her pad. “Three years and how many months?”
“He’ll turn four in November.”
Tabitha narrowed her eyes. “Three years, ten months.” She glared at him while emphasizing these last two words.
“Ten months?” Kimmie repeated. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”
The way Tabitha rolled her eyes reminded Kimmie of how her sister might look in another forty years if she ran out of money for all her anti-aging skin treatments.
“And he doesn’t talk at all?” Tabitha asked.
Kimmie searched for a polite way to remind the provider that her patient was sitting right in front of her, listening in.
“He does use some words,” Kimmie stated defensively, stretching the truth just a little.
Tabitha raised a single eyebrow. “Single words, I assume?”
Kimmie stared at her blankly.
“He’s not stringing words together yet to form sentences?” the PA pressed.
