A Change of Plans

by Donna K. Weaver

  When I awoke to reality, a crushing weight bore down on me, twisting my stomach in knots and sending a vicious wave of nausea. I wanted to go to Lewistown, even knowing Braedon wouldn’t be there, but I was afraid. I took a trip to the mall and wandered around the stores, thinking about what had brought me on this journey in the first place.

  After sitting through a movie I didn’t watch, I got up, went to my rental car, and headed down the highway. It had started snowing during the movie, but Lewistown was only a couple of hours away. The Randolph Ranch lay northwest of the town. Even if I never got up the courage to knock on the door, I could at least drive past.

  I didn’t feel very well when I started out, sluggish from the restless night. Maria’s grandmother had also insisted on feeding me an iffy-looking dish while at her house. Things there had been so dismal I hadn’t been able to refuse her offer.

  The more I drove, the more I regretted eating it. I had almost decided to find a motel when the worst of the nausea passed. By then the weather had gotten interesting to drive in, and I worried the storm would worsen.

  I needed a break anyway, so I decided to go into Lewistown first. While there, I got directions to the ranch. The attendant eyed me curiously, making me wonder if the Randolphs didn’t get many visitors.

  I didn’t phone Aislinn until I left town. It would have served me right if Braedon’s father had been away when I showed up.

  My nervousness increased as I drove away from the lights of town, and not just because I wasn’t wanted or expected. Darkness came early in February. I had waited too long to start out, and the bad weather had lengthened the drive. I cursed myself for not getting a room in town and waiting until tomorrow. Yet if I waited, I might not have the courage again to visit.

  I had only gone a couple of miles when the visibility got so bad I had to slow to a crawl. I hadn’t done a lot of driving since I had returned to civilization. As I crept along inside my little dome of light, huge flakes fell like a curtain, hiding everything behind it.

  There were no lights I could see. Even at my reduced speed, I should have already reached the turnoff to the ranch. I would have to turn around, but the road didn’t look very wide. If I tried turning around, I might end up in a ditch. My stomach churned. What if I got lost out here? How ironic to have survived all that time on a tropical island only to freeze to death in Montana.

  I had just decided to stop when a huge red truck burst out of a side road I hadn’t noticed and skidded to a stop in front of me. Already jumpy, I braked, sliding a little and just missing the truck. White knuckles clenching the steering wheel, my heart thumped and my knees trembled.

  The driver flashed the truck’s headlights at me, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. Through the oscillating window wipers, I could make out the driver-side window roll down and a gloved hand jab violently toward the direction from which the truck had just come.

  As I decided to take the driver’s help, I wondered where else in the world I would even consider following instructions given like that by a stranger.

  The driver honked, flashed the truck’s lights, and waved again. Seemed like someone wasn’t happy. My hands shook, and my stomach lurched.

  Swallowing to keep from retching, I flashed my lights back. The truck turned in the drive, and I followed its disappearing trail. I tried to stay close to the rear lights as it made its way up a long lane, the driving snow obscuring almost everything else. I coughed, telling myself I would not throw up.

  Finally, in the distance, I could make out some dim lights I hoped were from a house. The truck drove up close to them, and I pulled next to it. The driver, head covered by a hat, got out, his entire body pulsing with anger.

  I opened my door, hoping the fresh air would clear my head and help my stomach, but the driver ripped the door from my hand and shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing coming out here in weather like this?”

  I promptly threw up on his boots.

  CHAPTER 28

  A ROAR OF laughter came from the porch as the man jumped back, cursing. He glared at me as he wiped his shoes off in the snow. I covered my mouth in dismay but felt another heave coming.

  “Watch out!” shouted the voice from the porch. “She’s going to do it again!”

  I did, and then a wave of dizziness struck me, and I swayed. Swearing, the man grabbed me before I could do a face plant in the snow. He put his arm under my knees and picked me up, muttering under his breath as he slid up the snowy steps.

  The young man on the porch opened the door and followed us into the house.

  “Is he back?” a woman’s voice called from another room.

  “Better get out here quick! She’s sick,” called the young man.

  A plump, motherly looking woman in jeans and an apron came through a door, took one look at the man standing with me in his arms, and seized control.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, you old fool! She can’t drive back to town in this weather. Take her upstairs to the bedroom.”

  Grumbling, the man carried me up the stairs and dumped me on my feet by a four-poster bed. I clutched one of the posts.

  The woman nudged the man out of her way. He glowered at me for a second and then stomped out. The woman shut the door behind him and came to me, examining my face.

  I clutched my arms to my chest. “I’m so sorry. I think I ate something yesterday that gave me food poisoning.”

  “Don’t you worry about it.” She pulled a pair of flannel pajamas from a dresser drawer. “I’m Emily Walters. Get out of those soiled clothes, so I can get them washed, and you can get into that tub.” She pointed to a bathroom and handed me an empty trash can. “In case you feel like you’re going to throw up again.”

  She went into the bathroom, and I followed, watching as she turned on the water. Self-conscious, I took off my clothes as fast as I could, ordering myself to ignore the painful abdominal gurgling.

  “You’re sure a thin thing,” she commented.

  My face flamed. “I didn’t used to be,” I said a little harsher than necessary. Then I had to grab the trash can as my stomach heaved, too sick to consider my humiliating state of undress.

  When I stopped vomiting, Mrs. Walters helped me into the steaming water. She rinsed the trash can before handing it back to me. “I’ll get these clothes into the wash and bring you up something to help your stomach.” She left.

  I leaned back in the old-fashioned tub, not knowing if I was even in the right place. The heat from the water felt good, and my stomach settled down. When Mrs. Walters returned with a cup of herbal tea, I was able to sip some of it.

  “Don’t drink it too fast, hon.” She sat next to me. “Don’t want it coming right back up.”

  I took a taste. “Is this the Randolph Ranch?”

  “Yes, it is.” She chuckled, “And you puked on the boots of His Highness John Randolph himself.”

  “Oh, Lord,” I breathed, closing my eyes.

  “You’re Lyn North.” A statement.

  “Did Aislinn call to say I was coming?”

  “Yes again, and Sir John was madder than I’ve seen him since—”

  “Should I leave?” I interrupted.

  Mrs. Walters appraised me. “Aislinn said Braedon wanted to marry you.”

  I almost dropped the cup. “He did marry me.”

  “On that ship?”

  “No. On the island.”

  “Oh, really? And who performed the ceremony?”

  I hesitated. “A fruit bat.”

  She cocked her head and then burst out laughing. “Okay. I get what you’re saying. What’d you two do, exchange vows or something? Sounds kind of romantic and like something Braedon would do.” She put her fingers into the cooling water.

  “Time for you to get out.” She took the cup from me and set it on the counter before holding up a large, fluffy towel. “You bring any clothes with you?”

  Shivering, I stepped out of the tub and draped the towel over my shoulder
s. “Yes, but they’re in my car.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to wait for your other clothes to dry to have fresh undies.” She handed over a pair of pajamas and turned to leave.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Walters.”

  Glancing back at me, she grinned and then left the room.

  Once dressed, I went back into the bedroom, where Mrs. Walters had turned back the bedding. There were electric blanket controls on the nightstand, and they were on high. Bless you, Mrs. Walters. I climbed into the bed and fell asleep immediately.

  I STARTED AWAKE. The soft light from the nightstand lamp showed a figure standing just outside the open door. I sat up, pulling the blankets up around my neck.

  The driver from earlier strode into the room and sat in the chair by the bed, glowering at me again. Here, out of his hat and coat, was the older version of the man from the photos. Jack Randolph would never have been called handsome, but there was a rugged sort of beauty in his silver hair and chiseled face. I recalled Braedon talking about how his mother, the debutant, had fallen for this cowboy. I could see why—his strong character showed through.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  I slid my feet from under the covers. I felt at a disadvantage to be lying in bed when facing this man. “I wanted to meet you.”

  Jack Randolph stood up. “Why?”

  I stood up too. Was he playing some kind of power game with me, trying to keep my head below his? He wasn’t as tall as Braedon, but he was still taller than me. “Because you were special to him.”

  He scowled, his entire body tight with dislike. “Don’t you mean because you wanted to con me like you’ve conned Aislinn? Prance over here from that island claiming he’d married you. Figured as a widow you could get your hands on his estate—”

  My veins strained against my skin, and I slapped him. “How dare you?”

  “You’re nothing but a gold-digging tramp!” He grabbed my arm.

  My training kicked in, and I pinned his hand to my arm, turned my own so I had him in a wristlock, and he dropped to his knees, grimacing in pain.

  Mrs. Walters and two young men rushed through the bedroom door. I let Jack go and stepped out of his reach, stunned at what I had done. My anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving me in a terrible position.

  Mrs. Walters and the two guys stood for a second in shock and then began laughing. Jack rose, looking daggers at all of us, and rubbed his hand and arm.

  I swallowed. “I’ll leave in the morning if the roads are open.”

  The others went silent. Jack gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

  “But I will tell you what I came here to say.” I stepped forward.

  “And what is that?” He spun back to me, spitting out the words.

  “Thank you,” I said softly, my eyes burning.

  He gaped at me. “What ... why?”

  Now I did cry. “Because you taught him things that saved our lives. Because you taught him how to be strong and brave ... and gave him a high code of ethics to live up to.” I sniffed, swallowing to get rid of the painful lump in my throat. “And you gave him his happiest childhood memories.”

  Jack stood frozen in place. Just as I saw the hint of a shine in his eyes, he turned and left. Mrs. Walters quietly pushed the two young men from the room and shut the door behind her, leaving me alone again.

  Numb, I stood for a moment and then pulled out my cell phone. It would be late in New York, but I dialed the number anyway. When Aislinn’s sleepy voice answered, I demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me your father is a petty tyrant?”

  “What happened?” she asked, very awake now.

  I explained.

  “He called you what?”

  My shoulders sagged. “A gold-digging tramp.”

  “What did you say?” she whispered.

  I closed my eyes. “I slapped him.”

  She groaned.

  It embarrassed me that I had struck Braedon’s father. It wasn’t something I would normally have done. “Then he grabbed my arm, so I took him down.”

  Aislinn was quiet for a moment. “Took him down? Like a karate take down, the kind Braedon told me about?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “He’s not a violent man, not with women. He wouldn’t have done anything to you,” Aislinn said weakly.

  “Well, I’m just batting a thousand tonight.” I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I also vomited on his shoes when I first got here.”

  There was dead silence on the other end.

  I looked at my phone to make sure we hadn’t been disconnected. “Aislinn?”

  Before she answered, someone rapped on the door, and I tossed the phone behind me and stood up. “Come in.”

  Jack Randolph opened the door and scrutinized me.

  “Can I help you with anything, Mr. Randolph?” I kept my tone as frigid as the air outside.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  I stared at him, unsure what to say. Was this some kind of trick?

  “Please don’t leave in the morning ... unless you want to, that is.” Jack’s shoes suddenly fascinated him. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did want to.” He began to leave, and to my dismay, I could see the red imprint of my hand on his cheek.

  “I owe you an apology too,” I reached toward him but dropped my hand. “About the take down ....”

  I could see the corner of his mouth quirk up ... it was so like Braedon’s. “I’ve never had anyone get me on the ground like that before.”

  My knees went wobbly for a moment. “It’s a technique the police sometimes use to subdue criminals.”

  He frowned. “You’re a cop?”

  I shook my head. “I’m a high school music teacher.”

  Now he did grin. “I hope you’ll stay.”

  I smiled back at him. “I will.”

  Jack left, shutting the door behind him. I sat on the bed, feeling a little dazed.

  “Lyn!” Aislinn’s voiced shouted. I had forgotten all about her.

  I snatched up the phone “Aislinn—did you hear that?”

  “Most of it. Good for you! I can’t ever remember my father apologizing to anyone!”

  “Why the quick turnaround?” I asked, confused.

  She laughed. “My father’s always been one to blow up fast, but once he gets something off his chest, he’s over it. You must have said the right thing. It makes me think he wanted to believe you all along.”

  CHAPTER 29

  I HAD A hard time sleeping again after all the fuss and was surprised when I woke up alert, but the clock on the nightstand said it was only 5:30 a.m. I lay in the bed trying to decide what to do. Mrs. Walters had taken my clothing. I wondered if there might be something in the room I could put on.

  The closet had some men’s clothing in it, all much too large for me. I moved to the dresser and opened a couple of drawers. They were full of personal items, so I didn’t look any further. It seemed this room belonged to someone, and I hoped I hadn’t put anyone out for the night.

  I finally discovered a robe hanging on a hook behind the bathroom door. I wrapped it around me and slipped into some large slippers I found in the closet. Opening the door, I tiptoed to the top of the stairs. I heard voices coming from below, so I headed for them, trying not to trip on my oversized footwear.

  Jack was pouring a cup of coffee while Mrs. Walters opened a package of bacon. They looked up when I entered. She gave me an encouraging smile, and he raised his cup in salute. “Want some coffee?” He acted like nothing had happened the night before.

  “I don’t drink it. Do you have any hot chocolate?”

  He pointed to a cupboard, and I found several cans of gourmet hot chocolate inside. A kitchen after my own heart.

  As I stirred my cocoa, the first smell of cooking bacon hit. A sharp pain stabbed my stomach, and I knew I wasn’t in the clear yet. I set the cup down abruptly, spilling some of it, and jumped o
ut of the oversized slippers. I raced from the kitchen back to the bathroom, where I threw up again.

  I cursed that food in Texas. At this rate, I would lose all the weight I had gained since my return to civilization. I heard the door open and groaned. I hated being sick where anyone could see me.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Walters,” I gasped between dry heaves. “I think it’s food poisoning from an enchilada I ate.”

  A deep voice said, “Don’t worry about it. If need be, we can take you to the doctor.”

  Braedon’s father put his hand on the top of my head and held my hair back. It reminded me of when his son had done the same for me on the catamaran. I started to cry. He murmured soothing words.

  Once the heaves finally stopped, he helped me to my feet before retreating from the bathroom. I rinsed my mouth and splashed water over my face. When I came out, Jack was leaning against the dresser, his arms crossed. He glanced around the room. “This was Braedon’s room when he stayed here.”

  My heart raced. “Those are his clothes in the closet and the dresser?”

  “Yep.”

  Scanning the room, I asked, “Why did you never get rid of them?”

  Jack shook his head, his throat working in a way I knew all too well.

  I went over and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. Stupid question.”

  He coughed and cleared his throat. It amazed me that he could keep the tears back with the intensity of emotion I felt coming from him. He reached behind him and handed me my cocoa. The abandoned slippers rested on the floor by the dresser.

  “How about you try sipping this and come downstairs when the meat smell’s cleared out in a bit?” He gave me a stern look. “You aren’t one of those vegetarians or vegans are you?”

  In response, I reached down, lifted the leg of my pajama pants, and showed him my six-inch scar. “I got it when Braedon and I went boar hunting. We needed the skins because our clothes were falling apart ... and I wanted soap.”