Belle’s eyes were wistful. “She was, but she was with Morgan. Or it might have been Pamela.”
“Don’t they usually just assign one helper for every new child?” Mickelle asked.
Belle shrugged. “Yeah, but the others didn’t get along with Jennie Anne.”
Mickelle tried not to jump to wrong conclusions, but what was so difficult about this new child that she had already gone through two assigned friends?
“I don’t really blame her,” Belle added. “At least not for Lorene. She’s mean.”
Make that three assigned friends, corrected Mickelle.
“And Morgan’s not very patient.”
“And you are?” Jeremy said with a snort.
“Better than you,” Bryan retorted.
Belle held up her chin. “That’s right, I am. More than Lorene and Morgan and Pamela. Besides, I can help Jennie Anne read because I can read better than anyone in the whole class.”
“Jennie Anne can’t read?” Mickelle thought that perhaps for the teacher it was convenient to pair the smartest child in the class with the one the furthest behind, but she didn’t think it would do Belle any good to be held back by a student who couldn’t read. Should she call Damon to discuss it?
She nixed that thought even as it came. No, this was not a problem—yet. She was making excuses to contact him. Parent-teacher conference was in a few weeks and Damon could discuss it with the teacher then. Meanwhile she would question Belle and keep track of the situation. She could even go to the school and meet this Jennie Anne herself.
Once the children had left for school, Mickelle went to her backyard to feed the dog and work in her garden, bringing the portable phone along in case one of the children should call.
“Hi Sasha,” she crooned to the yellow Labrador as she opened the pen, allowing the dog to rush wildly around the backyard. “Come ’ere girl! Come ’ere!” Sasha skidded to a stop and panted exuberantly while Mickelle scratched her thick yellow coat.
She filled Sasha’s food dish and gave her fresh water from the hose, rubbing her own hands vigorously under the water to remove most of the dog’s scent. Allowing Sasha to stay loose in the backyard, Mickelle turned to her garden.
Her tomatoes were thriving in the middle of the abundant greenery, soaking up the sun. The nights were colder now, and Mickelle knew the change in temperature would hasten her harvest. She picked a big juicy tomato and rubbed it gently on her jeans before biting into the firm, acidic flesh. “Hmm,” she murmured with a sigh.
As she ate, she observed the pumpkins growing in a disarray of tangled, twisted vines. A smile came to her face as she thought about their annual Halloween pumpkin seed fight. It was a yearly ritual of which Riley had disapproved, but she and the boys had indulged anyway. Mickelle was sure that Damon and his children would enjoy it, and she had just enough pumpkins for them each to carve one.
She stopped chewing and swallowed hard, realizing that she wouldn’t be spending Halloween with Damon, Tanner, or Belle. At that moment of realization, she couldn’t have missed him more than if he had drowned in that pool.
The vision of him floating in the water returned with force. I do not need him, she told herself unconvincingly.
Her thoughts were in such a turmoil that the ringing of the phone clipped onto her back pocket came as a welcome relief. Across the grass, Sasha perked her ears.
Mickelle lifted the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mickelle,” said a masculine voice that was familiar, but that she couldn’t quite place.
“Who’s this?”
“Colton,” he said. “Remember Saturday night?”
She was glad he couldn’t see how her jaw fell open. “Hi, Colton,” she managed.
“I did some checking at your insurance company as I promised, and I have news.”
“You do?” She hadn’t really expected anything.
“Look, I’m on my way over there right now, okay?”
“But . . .”
“Don’t worry. It’s good news. Oops, gotta go. I’m getting another call. But I should be at your house in about five minutes.”
Mickelle was nearly consumed with curiosity. What had Colton discovered? He certainly couldn’t change the fact that Riley had died three weeks before the suicide clause on his policy would have been up. The policy stated that the insurance money would not be received in the case of suicide within two years. If Riley had planned his death three weeks later, she would have a right to the money. But he hadn’t.
She returned the reluctant Sasha to her pen. Inside the house, she placed the phone in its recharging cradle and washed her hands. Then she changed into a blue dress she had recently bought because it matched her eyes, checked her hair, and added another coat of lipstick. Was she too dressed up? Probably. But the dress made her feel good.
She had scarcely finished when the bell rang, and she ran to the door to find that Colton Scofield was every bit as good-looking as she remembered. He wore a black double-breasted suit that made his shiny hair appear even blacker. Mickelle wondered what he put in his hair to make it shine. She was glad she had changed her clothes.
The dimple in his left cheek deepened when he saw her. “You look absolutely ravishing today.”
Mickelle smiled and lowered her eyes, embarrassed for the second time that day. “Come in, please.” She led him to the sitting room.
“Nice place,” Colton said, settling onto the couch. Mickelle wondered what kind of a background he’d come from that he thought her small house was nice. Though it was clean, there were obvious repairs to be made, items that should be replaced. Or had she been to Damon’s mansion so often that she had become ashamed of her own modest lifestyle?
She sat across from him on the bench of the family piano her parents had recently given her. She felt nervous having him here when she was alone in the house, something that had never bothered her with Damon.
Colton’s blue eyes seemed to read her discomfort. “I don’t bite,” he told her, patting the cushion next to him. “Come over here, would you? I’d like to show you something.” He put his black briefcase on his lap, clicking it open.
She crossed the few steps between them and sat on the couch. The aroma of his aftershave swirled around him, rich and pungent. “What’s this?” she asked, glancing at the documents he had withdrawn.
“These are the copies of your husband’s life insurance policy that you e-mailed me yesterday, and this is the copy of the check I got from a friend who works at the insurance company.”
Mickelle studied them skeptically. “Yes. But forgive me if I don’t see anything different about them. It still has the two-year suicide clause, the date is the same. There’s nothing new here.”
“Check the date on the check.”
Mickelle looked, and her heart leapt. “April thirtieth,” she read. “How odd. The date on the policy is later.”
“Exactly. Your husband obviously paid the agent and then the paperwork was done later. Why, I don’t know. Usually, it’s done at the same time. But apparently, this agent was doing a lot of traveling to people’s houses and had a backlog to enter. So the contract was made up later.”
“And signed later,” Mickelle pointed out.
“The check is proof of coverage.” Colton’s eyes were warm on hers. “Legally, your husband was covered from the day he made out the check.”
Mickelle’s eyes opened wide. “That means . . .”
“It means you will be receiving one hundred thousand dollars this week from the insurance company.” He grinned at her, and she knew there was more. “I went to visit them this morning, first thing. I told them I represented you and that if they didn’t have the money to you this week, we planned to go to court to sue them for fraud.” He paused for effect. “I believe they’ll be prompt.”
Mickelle was amazed. One moment she was a struggling single mother surviving on social security benefits and baby-sitting, and now, while she definitely wasn’t rich, she coul
d be independent to a good extent. She could afford to fix the old fence in the yard, at least, and even pay off the mortgage all together.
She beamed at Colton. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it. You just need to sign these papers here, so that they can set up a checking account on your behalf. Then you can take the money out as you please when you decide what you want to do with it.”
Mickelle scanned the papers before signing them, scarcely able to believe her good fortune. “Thank you so much! How can I ever repay you?”
He caught her hand. “Go to lunch with me. Come on, my treat.” He gazed at her so entreatingly that she agreed, blaming her surrender on that adorable dimple.
“Okay. Let me get a sweater.” In the coat closet near the front door she took out a long, black sweater that buttoned up the front.
He took her to Chuck-A-Rama in Orem. She was surprised because he didn’t seem the type of man who enjoyed serving himself. “The truth is,” he confessed when she teased him, “I like choosing what I eat.”
“Well, I love eating here,” she said. “I know the boys can fill up on things they like.”
Lunch was marvelous. Colton was an excellent conversationalist, and there were no awkward silences as he launched into one narrative after the other, recounting cases he had worked on. “I see a lot of fraud in the insurance business,” he told her. “Not only from regular people but from insurance companies. Many will purposely cover things up if they can get away with it.”
“Like in my case?”
“Exactly. Although that may have actually been an oversight.” He sliced a piece of beef that was too rare for Mickelle’s taste; she was glad she had chosen the chicken instead. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen. Why, last month in Alabama, I saw a case where the insurance company tried to pin a murder charge on a poor woman whose husband was killed in a car accident. When I heard about it, I had to step in. I’d investigated enough true frauds to believe this one was made up. Luckily, the case was thrown out, and she got her money.”
“Whom exactly do you work for?” The picture he painted wasn’t very clear.
“I work for a private law firm that helps people obtain their funds from insurance companies. Sometimes they’ve been accused of fraud, and sometimes the cases are mistakes like yours.”
With difficulty, Mickelle swallowed the mouthful of green beans she was chewing. This explained his interest in her. “How much do you charge?”
“Up to fifty percent in some cases.” He looked at her and his eyes widened. “But you’re not a client, Mickelle. What I did for you was a favor. I hope you understand that.”
Relief washed over Mickelle. Now that she’d been promised the money, she didn’t want to give it away. “Thank you,” she said.
He smiled at her and she suddenly wanted to touch his dimple, just to see what it felt like. She was surprised at the thought—and flustered. “So, if you worked in Alabama, what brought you here?”
“I came back here because I missed Utah. You know, being with the believers. I was born in California, but I went to school here. I still feel like it’s home.”
“So where exactly do you live in Happy Valley?”
“Provo,” he said vaguely. “You want to get some more grub?”
She laughed. “Maybe a little.”
Colton ate more than any man she had ever seen—even Riley, who had been quite stocky and had eaten triple helpings of every meal. Either Colton had a high metabolism to keep so fit, or he was famished from lack of eating regularly. “I can’t wait to tell the kids about the money,” she confided as she watched him finish his fourth plate of food.
“I wish I could see it.”
An invitation was on the tip of her tongue—until she remembered Damon. If Colton stayed too long, they would meet, and the ensuing questions would be awkward.
Damon doesn’t own me, she thought, resentful that she’d begun to worry about it. She had promised herself after Riley’s death that she would never change her plans for a man. But then, was having Colton at the house when the boys returned her plan or his? Hadn’t he hinted to be invited? What did she want?
Not waiting for her response, Colton pushed forward his plate and slid from the padded booth. “Okay, I’m finally ready,” he announced, looking slightly abashed. “I haven’t had time for a good meal lately.”
With her suspicions confirmed, Mickelle felt sorry for Colton. He was new in Utah and didn’t have family here. What about female companionship? Most of the single women Mickelle knew would give up a month’s salary to go out with someone so drop-dead gorgeous. They should be making him dinner by the droves.
Once inside his car, Colton didn’t start the engine. He turned his head in her direction, but seemed to stare right through her. “So you have two sons,” he said, his voice full of melancholy. “How old are they?”
“Nine and thirteen.”
“Ah. A good age. I wish . . .” He shrugged and turned the key.
“Wish what?”
“I wish my boys were alive.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mickelle was more curious than she wanted to admit. What had happened to his children?
He studied her for a long minute without replying. She felt as though he were weighing and measuring her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want,” she offered quickly.
His answer came slowly. “I think I would like to talk about it. But I’m not sure you’ll like it. Or if you’ll even understand. Yet I think . . . given the way I feel . . .” He stopped completely, as though searching for words. “You are unlike any woman I have ever met,” he said finally. “Maybe you would understand.”
“I can try.” Mickelle was flattered. What kind of women did he usually date? The glamorous beauty queens? Yes, she could easily see him with women like that.
He slid the car into gear. “Do you mind if we go somewhere less crowded?”
Mickelle thought about the pepper spray she still had in her purse. She had meant to give it back, but now . . . “Sure.” After all he had done for her, she could spend a little time comforting him in his time of need. Heaven knew she had once been in a similar situation.
Instead of returning to Mickelle’s house, Colton drove up American Fork Canyon. Mickelle hadn’t been to the canyon since Riley had died. She didn’t even know the exact place where he had purposely driven off the road and plunged to his death. Her stomach suddenly felt queasy and her heart raced, but she didn’t have a panic attack. Just in case, she deliberately breathed in an even pattern. At least Riley hadn’t taken anyone over that cliff with him.
The leaves on the sea of trees were changing colors, leaving brilliant patterns of gold and red as they undulated gently in the light breeze. The beautiful sight was enough to hold her attention. She wondered briefly if the leaves changed color like this in Anchorage where Damon had lived before coming to Utah. Or in Alabama, where Colton had been.
Colton sighed and pulled over to the side of the road next to the river. “Want to go for a walk?”
Mickelle nodded. She thought about taking the pepper spray but decided against it. They wouldn’t be going far, and Colton was a nice man. She could feel it. Maybe they could be friends. She would certainly need one if Damon couldn’t come to terms with her decision.
They walked along the river. There was no real trail, so they meandered along. Neither was dressed for the occasion, and Mickelle was glad that at least her pumps were low and had a wide heel. The breeze here was colder than in the valley and she buttoned her long sweater with stiff, cold fingers. The scent of pine was strong, as was the smell of the wet leaves now beginning to stack on the rich earth.
They came to several fallen logs and Colton took her hand to help her over them. Afterwards, he continued to hold her hand. Mickelle told herself he was trying to ease her path over the terrain, that it didn’t mean anything. Or did it? His skin felt warm against hers.
“Look at this.” Colton
indicated a place that descended close to the rushing water. There was a tiny clearing, surrounded by small trees that kept out most of the breeze. Mickelle couldn’t hear the cars from the road over the sound of the river but knew they were there. She and Colton seemed to be in a separate world from the rest of humankind.
Colton released her hand, and it felt suddenly cold. He bent and picked up several stones from the dark, rich earth and tossed them into the river. One sent up a spray of water that hit the ground at his feet. He turned to her and grinned, but Mickelle could see something more important lurking in his blue eyes.
He didn’t speak; neither did she. For a long time, all that was between them was the sound of the river and the rustling of the colorful leaves.
“I told you I had two sons,” he said at last.
Mickelle could barely hear him over the rushing water, and she stepped closer. He was less than an inch taller than she was, she noticed, though this was certainly not a drawback when coupled with his looks. She nodded encouragingly.
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and for a moment Mickelle was sure he had changed his mind about sharing his story. A single tear slipped out of the inner corner of his left eye, trailing down the side of his nose before angling outwards near his dimple. Instinctively, she reached to wipe it away, but stopped herself in time.
Mickelle looked swiftly down at the ground. She wanted to comfort Colton, but didn’t feel she knew him well enough. Wasn’t there anyone he could turn to?
When she glanced back at him, he had opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times. “We had twins, my wife Terry and I.” He smiled slightly, but the sorrow in his face was still evident. “They were beautiful and perfect, and we doted on them. My favorite memories are of them.” He paused and the smile vanished.
“What happened?” Mickelle asked, unable to bear it any longer.
His eyes held to hers as though to a lifeline. “One evening when they were a year old, Terry went to the store. She’d had a difficult day with the twins and I volunteered to watch them. Told her to take her time, that I’d get them to bed.” Again he stopped talking. Mickelle was anxious now to hear more. In her mind she pictured her nephews, Forest and Gabriel, Brionney’s twin boys. Just last week they had celebrated their first birthday.
Bridge to Forever Page 7
