♦♦♦
Day four I was released from the hospital. My gait wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t used to limping on my left side. It confused me more than pained me. I let them take me out in a wheelchair because of hospital policy. I used a cane long enough to get into my parents’ house, but soon discarded it, opting to lean on walls and furniture to get around. It had little to do with my disease and everything to do with being stubborn.
I waited until that night to travel next door. Maybe I was worried the sutures might pop with all the walking I’d done and I didn’t want to bleed all over his rug from Uruguay. I struggled my way up the front steps, realizing for the first time how much I used my calf muscle and how much harder running would be for a bit. I knocked, but there was no reply. I tried again, and then a third time. Peering through the window, it was dark inside. I pulled a bobby pin from my hair, cracked it and went to work on the lock. After ten minutes I still hadn’t picked it.
I smashed my face against the window. My breath made little clouds of fog in the panes of glass. Through the haze I could see everything in its place. The twin turtles from Maui. The rocking chair he’d picked up in India. The cup from Oktoberfest in Germany. And then I saw it. His cane hanging from the lamp. He would never leave without his cane.
Stumbling down the stairs, crying out just once when the stitches pulled, I hurried back through to my parents’ house.
“Mom!” I yelled the second the door was open. “Dad!”
They both burst from the kitchen, eyes wide, likely because they figured we were under attack again.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Jack?” I demanded. “Where is Mr. Stone?”
They exchanged a look before my dad said gently, “He’s gone, honey. Went quietly in the night, probably four days ago.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as grief clutched my gut. “And you didn’t tell me?” I can’t help but let the edges of my words cut them.
“I didn’t know you were that close,” Mom said as she dried her hands and set the towel on the chair. “We would have told you if we’d known. Maybe you could have said goodbye.”
“So you knew?” I asked. “You knew he was—” I couldn’t get the words out. He’d died, without a second thought, he’d died in the night. I sank back into my dad’s easy chair, hand pressed against my heart because it ached as badly as every other part of me.
“You were really close, weren’t you?” Dad asked carefully as he moved toward me. “We had no idea.”
Words burbled up inside me and tried to escape, but it just cut off into tears. He was me and I was him, and was this what I might be facing in my future? Could I make Ryder live through that sort of pain? Was it worth the risk?
Yes. It had to be. Any time we could have together was worth the pain of being apart.
My mom’s palm brushed over my arm before she gave me a squeeze. Both her knees cracked as she bent low to see my downtrodden face. My tears flowed freely, unashamed that another warrior had been taken down by this monster.
“He said he would write you, honey. You can look forward to that.”
My head popped up to stare at her. My mother has believed in a lot of crazy things over the years, but never have I heard her talk about mail from the afterlife.
“What?”
Dad spoke slowly as if I’d sustained a head injury as well. “He’s in Fiji, honey.”
Gone.
Gone had so many different meanings and as usual I’d assumed the worst. Even a thousand miles away Jack could make me laugh. The tears wouldn’t stop either and both my parents stared at me as though I had lost my mind, laughing and crying and shaking from head to toe.
But it didn’t matter, the lesson stuck. I didn’t care if going home broke Ryder. I was the only one who knew how to put him back together.
The next day I started my trip back to Washington. It took two days this time, mostly because I had to elevate my leg and rest from time to time, but I pressed on, a new excitement coursing through my veins with every mile. A thousand scenarios unfolded in my imagination, some good, some horrible, but it didn’t matter. He was mine. I was his. That was what mattered, and only that.
Somewhere outside Roseburg in Oregon, I parked at a rest stop and kicked my foot up on the dash to elevate my throbbing leg. I clicked through the app store on my phone until I found PI Net and pressed download. Waiting five minutes for the free Wi-Fi to kick in and download the app nearly killed me. When I finally clicked on the icon and my favorite app unfolded in front of me, I had a choice.
Katie, or Lindy.
I logged into my account, the real one. It took maybe ten seconds to locate Slueth28. I opened the message and typed, “I’m coming home.”
Car doors slammed outside my SUV. A kid whined about not getting some snack his sister ate the last of. I stared at the screen. Had I broken him? Was I too late? Why wasn’t he replying?
The bubbles flashed, indicating he was responding. They disappeared. Thirty seconds went by. A siren wailed by on the highway behind me. The bubbles appeared again. I drew in a breath, trying to fight back my impatience. The bubbles vanished. I struggled to think of something more to write to him, something that would explain everything without explaining the wrong things. Once more the bubbles popped up and I waited on his reply. I could handle anger, I deserved it. I could handle accusations, those belonged to me, though in the world of faking identities on PI Net, he’d started the whole thing. I could handle almost anything, as long as he’d talk to me.
The bubbles ceased. The light next to his name went red. No longer active. He’d signed out. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding and pulled my foot from the dash. The old me would have given up, resigned to the fact that I’d blown it once and for all. I wouldn’t, though. Amos was right, Ryder was worth fighting for, and I planned to fight even if he slammed his door in my face. He may not remember he loved me, but compared to everything else we’d faced, that was nothing. I turned the car back on and headed for home once more.
Beyond Ryder, all I could think of was Jackie. She wanted space and I gave her that, but I had to find her, and see her in person. I could manage to take a week, maybe two, off work, and seek her out. DNA testing would resolve the paternity issues and past that I knew we could sort the rest out. Maybe she could meet Mom and Dad, take a little time to meet Eleanor; after all she’d been just a baby when Jackie was taken. It was time to live my life, and my sister would be a part of that life, even if it killed me.
As I saw the signs for Bellingham, my heart quickened. Ferndale was only moments beyond that, and somewhere between Ferndale and Blaine were the bluffs where Ryder’s grandfather had built their family lighthouse. I thought about driving directly to him, knocking on the lighthouse door and throwing myself in his arms, but I worried that I might be entirely too much for him to handle. I took the exit that led to my place and debated my options, varying from calling him on the phone, to meeting him in a public place, to meeting him out on the bluffs because it was our place and it might remind him of everything we’d endured together.
My plan consumed my focus, so much so that as I parked, I didn’t even notice the luxury sedan at first.
No one I knew had a red sedan.
Footsteps on my porch brought my head around. The second I saw her, I knew. I knew because she was a part of me. I recognized her, because there were bits of me locked up in her features, in the way she moved, in every part of her. I recognized her, because you never forget your sister.
My feet froze, but the woman kept moving toward me. Her nose was slender like my mother’s, like mine, but I could see Eleanor’s high cheekbones and my father’s strong jaw. Her hair was mousey brown, like mine before I dyed it, but only down to her shoulders, and bone straight, barely brushing against the denim jacket she wore over her long blue summer dress.
Jewel tones, was all I could think, her skin is more like Elle’s.
She stopped at the edge
of the steps. She was studying me as well, maybe categorizing the parts of me that belonged to her.
“Lindy?”
I knew her voice.
It was the same voice that had convinced me to steal Mom’s lipstick, the same voice that had barked orders when we choreographed our own dance show, and it was the same voice that had cried out for my parents the night she’d been stolen from our lives.
“Lindy,” she tried again, “I need your help.”
The tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t feel my arms, or my body, couldn’t catch my breath, because how could she be here? How could she have shown up on my doorstep after years and years of searching?
I took a ragged breath through tight lungs.
“Jackie?”
The End.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
STARING AT THIS FINISHED MANUSCRIPT that is about to become a book, I feel the need to express my gratitude. Perhaps it’s a bit early since book five will finish out the series, but my mom always said you can never say thank you too many times. It’s surreal seeing this book come to fruition. This one more than any other in the series. Originally, this series ended in the third book. Happily ever after and everything was fine, but that was just it, everything wasn’t fine. Lindy dealt with everything but her disease. She swept it under the rug and pretended love would fix all. As great as love is, it doesn’t fix everything, not on its own at least. It was then that I saw not only Lindy was living parallel lives, able-bodied in one and MS in another, but I was as well. It’s not an exaggeration to say that my soul bled parts of this book. Other books in the series are stories that belong to other warriors, but this one, this one is mine. This is the book that was never supposed to happen and yet, here it is.
I want to thank you for being here with me through this journey, because that’s what this series is, a journey. From that first moment Lindy turned right, I asked, sometimes begged, you to trust me. I know we’ve had some rough times. I’ve heard you, I know how frustrating Lindy can be, and yet I told you to stick with me because it’ll pay off in the end. I guess this is that moment. Book five is around the corner. Everything lurking in the shadows, the danger that’s hunted her from the beginning, we’re getting down to it. She’ll need everything she’s learned, everything she’s become. The whole story comes full circle, and I’m grateful you’ve been willing to follow me to this point. I love reading your comments about what you’ve learned about MS, or yourself, or how you relate to Lindy and her stupid decisions. I hope you enjoy it all as much as I’ve loved writing and sharing it with you.
Much Love Always, Nellie
Thank you for reading
Fables & Felonies
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Other Books by the Author
Sentry 6 Duo
Nightwatch
Falcon
Lindy Johnson Series
Caskets & Conspiracies
Saddles & Sabotage
Sparrows & Sacrifice
Fables & Felonies
Lighthearted Romance
Pre-Approved Identity Theft
Set to Simmer (Coming 2019)
Other Genres
Grimm, Grit & Gasoline Anthology-
As the Spindle Burns (Short Story)
Sneak Peek at
Babysitters & Bodyguards
Chapter 1
I couldn’t help but stare, I was trying to hide it, but my sister Jackie was sitting at my table, and I couldn’t stop staring.
“I was about to come find you,” I admitted out loud and then kicked myself. I sounded like a stalker.
“You were?” she asked, her eyes squinting in disbelief. “Why?”
She still didn’t believe me. Even after everything I’d shown her, she still didn’t believe she was Jacquelyn Johnson, my long-lost sister.
“I think we should talk, and maybe get some DNA testing.” I tacked it on like I was offering to take her to lunch. Of course I was more than willing to buy her lunch, right after I swabbed the inside of her cheek and mailed it off to a lab.
“I don’t know,” she said with far more reserve than I wanted to hear. “It’s a lot for me to take in.”
“But if you knew.” Her look cut me short. It was the same look the day she found her Strawberry Shortcake doll under my bed, the look that told me, ‘back off.’
“I didn’t come because of the sister thing,” Jackie, or rather Josie said. “I came because I need to hire you.”
“Hire me?” The request felt odd as I repeated it. If it meant leaving Ryder, the answer was no, sister or not.
“My sister,” she stopped herself, “my real sister, Magdalene, well Magda, she has three girls. She wanted me to watch them while she’s out of the country, and I told her I would, but now I have this conference for work out of state, and I can’t take them with me. They live in Seattle, and it’s only for a few weeks.”
“You want me to babysit?” I couldn’t keep the are-you-out-of-your-mind tone from my voice.
“I want to hire you as a bodyguard. The girl’s father is a diplomat overseas. My sister is an international journalist. They may have enemies, as wealthy people often do, and I worry about leaving them with the average nanny.” She plopped her purse on the table, oversized and more expensive than my car. “I’ll pay you well.”
For once money wasn’t enough.
“You didn’t come to reconnect with me? Or to meet our parents? Or your baby sister?”
Josie’s gaze turned evasive. “Maybe after Magda gets back, and the girls are safe. I can’t deal with the girls being with someone I don’t trust, and I can’t focus on my work if they aren’t safe.”
“I can’t leave Ryder,” I said out loud. “It doesn’t matter if it’s nearby or not, I literally pulled into the driveway a few minutes ago. I’ve been away for weeks. I’m not leaving him.”
Not deterred.
“He’s what? Your boyfriend? So bring him.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said, even though I wished it was.
“Look—” Her argument was cut short by a knock at the door. I thought about ignoring it, but no one knew I was home. If there was even a chance that Ryder was on the other side of the door…
I whipped the door open and tried to hide my disappointment that it was only my uncle Shane.
“Your mom and dad wanted me to swing by and check on you. They said you should be here by now and were worried you might have fallen asleep at the wheel. I see the docs finally took you off starvation watch. How much pizza did you e—”
He saw her, a cursory glance at first, but it caught his attention and he couldn’t look away. It was as if he’d seen a ghost, or maybe closer to seeing someone rise from the dead.
“Jackie?”
“Uncle Shane.” I tried to put my hand to stop him, but he shoved my arm away.
“Is that you?” he asked again.
Poor Josie had no memory of him, but how could she? We rarely saw him when we lived in California, only on Christmas and summer breaks. She’d been so young.
“Hi.” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Jocelyn Porter.”
Uncle Shane wouldn’t take it. Frozen from head to toe, he kept staring. Nothing could have prepared him for her, nothing I could say could take away the shock. Even then, her arm hovering between them while he gaped became increasingly awkward by the second.
“Jocelyn needs my help,” I said, thinking my work would urge him to leave
that much sooner. On the contrary, he pulled out the chair at the table and sank down to join us.
“Of course, what do you need?”
Josie sent me a smug smile I recognized from when she used to get Mom to let her go first in board games.
“I was just telling Lindy that my sister—”
“Eleanor,” he finished for her.
She frowned. “No, Magda. She’s gone out of the country for a month or two. I have her girls, but I need to attend a conference for work.”
“What do you do?” Uncle Shane leaned forward as if she had the most interesting life in the world.
“I’m a financial consultant.”
“Your grandfather, on my side, he was an accountant. Makes sense that you’d have a head for numbers.”
I considered kicking him beneath that table to snap him out of his trance.
“Neat,” Josie managed with her curt tone, “but more importantly, I have to be gone on business for three weeks, and I asked Lindy if she could watch the girls.”
Uncle Shane looked at me as though we should start packing. “And you said yes, of course.”
“Ryder.” I reminded him of the obligation I had to the man I loved. “I promised Ryder.”
“Maybe you can commute,” he tried again. He was worse than Josie.
Josie lost her patience with both of us. “Look, I get if you don’t want to help, but I still have to find someone who can be at the school with the girls undercover, and Shane, unless you can be a teacher, or pretend to be a nurse, then I still have a lot of ground to cover.”
My uncle was on his feet before she could take another step.
“That’s it. That’s how we solve this. Ryder can pose as a nurse.”
“What?” I snapped.
“Oh could he?” Josie asked, thoroughly gratified that she’d gotten her way. Also way too familiar.
“No,” I said. “He didn’t finish med school. He’s an artist.”
Fables & Felonies Page 23
