After another pause, she looked over. “Can I make a deal with you?” she asked.
I looked at her with interest.
“I’ll tell you my story, if you’ll tell me yours.”
I grinned. “Deal,” I said.
Epilogue
Christmas in Mexico. Walking along the beach in shorts and a tank top, combing for shells and sea glass. It required a bit of adjustment, especially for someone accustomed to the cold and snow of Minnesota Christmases past. It was festive enough. Just very warm.
Up ahead, a game of beach volleyball was just breaking up. Some of the players were paired up, some in singles, and all headed off in different directions. A slender girl with a shaggy mass of platinum blond hair and aviator sunglasses trudged through the sand toward me. As she got closer, I could see her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, and her nut-brown skin glistening with perspiration. She wore a bikini top, board shorts and beach shoes, and her smile was impossible not to return.
“Good game?” I asked, when she came abreast.
“Always,” Kael replied and leaned to kiss me. “I wish you could play with us.” Us being a group of twenty-somethings who’d come together from all over the RV park where we were staying to form the impromptu matches.
“Once my shoulder is better, which hopefully won’t be too much longer.”
While the bullet hadn’t hit any arteries, it had done some nerve and tendon damage, and I was basically on my own when it came to physical therapy. I’d regained about eighty percent usage, and was working hard toward regaining as much of the last twenty percent as I could.
“Let’s go for a swim,” she suggested. “And then a nice cold beer.”
“We’re out of limes,” I told her.
“Ah, we don’t need no stinkin’ limes,” she quipped as she grabbed my hand to tug me toward the water.
* * *
It was Kael’s Aunt Kate who had suggested Mexico.
On the drive to Asheville, Kael had conceded my point and called ahead, using my cell phone. My caution in that regard was simply in case law enforcement had Kate and Jillian’s phone under surveillance, looking for Kael’s number to pop up.
Kael was grateful for my intervention. “That never would have occurred to me,” she said.
I nodded and winked at her. “Ex-cop,” I whispered in a confiding manner, feeling a bit loopy from the medication.
She grinned, pulled into a Hardee’s parking lot, and called home. It was a brief call, merely to inform them she was on her way, that she was bringing someone who was injured, so there would be no surprises. She was visibly relieved when she hung up.
“It’s all clear. Jillian said they’d had one visit from the police, when someone called in an anonymous tip, but they’d both seen the CNN thing, and so they were prepared. Well, actually, she said they lied through their teeth.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Also,” she went on, “they’re a little pissed with me.”
“Oh.”
She looked at me critically. “Maybe you should take a nap. We’ve still got an hour’s drive and you’re starting to act a little stoned.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed.
“Yes, ‘Oh’. Now go to sleep.”
I did. And when I awoke, it was full dark and we were just approaching Asheville. We drove for another fifteen minutes, skirting the city itself, heading east into a more rural area. We turned onto a secondary road, and then turned off that into a long, curving gravel driveway. By the time we reached the well-lit house, I was very aware that I no longer felt stoned and that the ache in my shoulder was soon going to be unbearable.
Three figures, two human, one canine, made their way down the back deck steps as the Jeep came to a stop. Kael yanked on the emergency brake, threw her door open, and called over her shoulder to me, “Don’t move!”
I had just been about to reach for the door handle, but stopped myself. I watched as Kael dashed around the front of the vehicle; when she reached the passenger side she pulled that door open and helped me out. As soon as I was fully upright, my head swam and I swayed on my feet. I was grateful for her strong grip on my arm and around my waist.
The welcoming party joined us, and I was quickly introduced to Kate, Jillian and Kyle, the dog. He wagged his tail furiously and made whining, moaning and huffing sounds as he circled around us.
“That’s one happy dog,” I muttered. “He must really love you.”
Kael chuckled. “Yes, I’m very lovable,” she said. “I thought you knew that.”
I was hustled to a guest bathroom at the back of the house where some supplies had been assembled: a basin of saltwater, disinfectant, cotton swabs, surgical scissors, packets of gauze. I managed not to pass out while the wound was poked, prodded and flushed out, though I did have to vomit once into the toilet.
Later, as we sat in the kitchen with steaming mugs of tea, an accounting of events to that point was demanded, and I listened while Kael supplied it. She was not sheepish, nor was she brazen. She didn’t need to state her reasons for her actions, but she apologized for placing Kate and Jillian in a compromising position, and thanked them for covering for her.
Kate and Jillian sat quietly for several moments.
“You can’t stay here, you know that,” Kate said. It seemed to pain her to say the words.
Kael nodded, resigned and glum.
“Give it a few years,” Jill said. “Let things calm down a bit.”
The stricken look on Kael’s face lightened.
“I’m sure we’ve managed to convince the police that the anonymous tip was erroneous,” Kate said, “especially based on a blurry photo, but someone else may speak up. It’s interesting that there was only the one tip.” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Though I think I can understand that. Still, I’m not sure what that says about me, or anyone else, for that matter,” she added.
“I think we all feel that way,” I said quietly. I was sure none of us had ever thought we would cover up a crime.
“Also,” Kate continued as she glanced between me and Kael, “the police were pretty laid-back in their interest, their questions.” She shrugged. “It really didn’t seem like they were gunning for you or anything like that. I never really thought of cops being sympathetic to—well, you know.”
I knew full well that most cops would empathize with Kael and would want the kind of trash that preyed on children to be dealt proper justice.
Kael looked up. Her hand stroked Kyle’s head, which rested on her knee. “So where should we go?”
“Mexico,” said Kate and Jillian in unison.
Kael’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“We love you like a daughter.” Kate’s look was keen, but her eyes were now moist. “We’ve always done our best to help you, and we’ll continue to do that. Go to Mexico for a while, be snowbirds for six months. We’ve got our eye on some property in the mountains down around Cashiers. A nice little cottage in a remote area, ready to move in. If we buy it, when you come back, you can stay there as long as you like. No one will bother you there.”
And so that’s what we did. After a quick trip to Hills Valley to substantiate Lena Bowman’s story with the local law enforcement and to retrieve my weapon, I guided her through the installation of her security system as my last job. I then put my business on hold; I bought an RV, we packed up some belongings and Kyle the dog, and drove to Veracruz.
Five months later, I had had just about enough of the sun and surf life. We sat beneath the awning of the RV, Kyle between us, and sipped our Coronas. The warm ocean breeze dried our damp hair and clothes.
“So, are you ready for mountain life?” I asked Kael.
She gave me a sidelong look. “I spent almost every day of my life after the age of twelve in those mountains. It’s very beautiful country. I think you’ll like it.”
“Will there be snow?”
“Probably,” she said. The idea se
emed to please her.
“You’re looking forward to it.” I was happy that she was happy. Whatever demons tormented her, she seemed to have put the majority of them to rest. She was much more carefree now, much less the serious, driven young woman I’d first met.
“You bet.” She sat up straight and faced me. “And I’ve thought of what we can do for a living.”
“Oh.” I looked at her with interest. “You have?”
“Yes. We can buy a Christmas tree farm.”
I blinked. I don’t know what I was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “A Christmas tree farm?”
“Yes. Come inside for a minute.”
As she got to her feet, Kyle, ever vigilant, sprang up as well. For an aging dog, he was remarkably spry.
I followed them into the RV, where Kael opened her laptop without even sitting at the table. I stood next to her, breathing in the scent of her: sea and salt, wind and wildness. I slipped an arm around her waist and leaned against her. She reciprocated by pressing her hip to mine as she looked for a site she had bookmarked. When it came up, she turned the laptop in my direction.
It was an MLS listing of a tree farm in Cashiers, North Carolina. A Christmas tree farm. She brought up photo after photo of beautiful landscapes, a gorgeous bungalow and acres and acres of Fraser fir trees.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“I know,” she whispered in response.
We went through the entire site three times, and then she turned to me.
“What do you think?” Her eyes were wide, the pupils large in the dim light.
I thought carefully before I spoke. “I think,” I said slowly, “that I won’t need to buy you another Christmas gift for the rest of your life. I hope you’re okay with that.”
She smiled, placed her hands on my hips and pulled me closer. “You know what? I’m actually very okay with that. If it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you, I don’t need anything else.”
“Oh, it definitely means that,” I assured her and leaned in to kiss her.
Bella Books, Inc.
Women. Books. Even Better Together.
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Phone: 800-729-4992
www.bellabooks.com
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