by Jodi Thomas
Not one man in a hundred would know where to apply pressure to two wounds or have the skill to do it fast enough to save a life.
When she reached the other side of the square, Alex thought of stopping off at the fire station, but she wasn’t sure she could see Hank right now without telling him what was going on over at the Inn. Hank worried about his little sister as if she were seventeen and not nearly thirty. When he wasn’t worried, he was usually mad at her for doing something foolish.
Any way she looked at it, Alex thought what she’d seen this morning fell into one category or another. Right now Hank probably had all he could handle at the fire station. He didn’t need to be worrying about Liz.
Alex turned toward her office. With this weather they’d be getting calls all day.
She had barely made it inside and pulled off her coat when Jess was at her side, his headphone cord dangling.
“We got a strange call a few minutes ago, Sheriff,” he started. “Domestic violence, I guess you’d call it.”
“Give me the details.”
“A woman just called in to say she’d accidentally knocked her husband out and needed someone to come over and see if he was dead.”
“Did you ask her if she needed an ambulance?”
Jess frowned. “That’s where it gets strange. She said if he wasn’t dead he’d be furious that she’d called an ambulance, and if he was, it was too late anyway.”
“She leave a name?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But the caller ID said the call came from Lloyd and Edith Franklin’s home.”
“Edith from the diner?”
Jess frowned. “I’ve met her husband a few times. He’s not a man you’d want to cross. My brother was in school with the guy and used to laugh that Lloyd knew sign language.”
Alex waited, knowing Jess would get around to the facts eventually.
“You know”—Jess moved his fingers, then doubled them up into a fist—“he talks with his hands. I heard someone say a few years ago that the guy wanted to go pro in wrestling, but he had a head injury that gave him a stupidism.”
“You mean astigmatism?”
“Whatever. The strange thing is how could Edith, a woman who makes a broom handle look fat, knock out Lloyd? He’s a head taller and double her weight.”
“Try to call her back.” Alex reached for her coat. Her feet hadn’t even had a chance to get warm and it looked like she was heading out again.
While Jess tried to get Edith on the phone, Alex called Hank and filled him in. If Edith didn’t want an ambulance, Hank would be the next best thing. He knew how to handle most medical emergencies, and his huge pickup would make it out to the trailer park at the edge of town. She might have drafted a deputy to come along, but they were all out working weather-related accidents.
“No answer!” Jess yelled, and Alex was out the door.
Hank met her at his Dodge, and they climbed into the cab still warm from the run he’d made a half hour ago.
“Busy day?” she asked.
“I feel like I’ve already put in a day’s work and it’s not near lunch yet. How about you?”
“I took a few minutes off and had coffee over at Martha Q’s house.” Alex didn’t want to admit to more.
He stopped at a light and leaned over to kiss her cold cheek. “I love you, you know.”
“I know.” She smiled. “Otherwise why would you go on this call with me? Lloyd Franklin is huge, and Jess said he almost went pro wrestler.”
Hank winked at her. “I’m not worried. I got the big bad sheriff with me.”
Alex wished she felt as confident as he did. In truth, she wasn’t too worried about Lloyd. If he came to and came up swinging, she’d taken men down before, and Hank could hold his own in a fight. What worried Alex more than confronting Lloyd was what he might do to Edith after they left.
Once, about a year back, she’d seen bruises on Edith’s arms, but when Alex asked about them, Edith made up excuses. Unless she saw the violence or had Edith file charges, there wasn’t much she could do.
“This one’s it,” Hank said as he pulled up to a single-wide trailer parked under hundred-year-old trees. “I took Edith home one night when her car wouldn’t start and I remember it. Told her to have her husband trim away some of those branches before they fall. You’d think since he does lawn work on the side, he’d have all the tools he’d need in that junker of a van parked under the shed.” Hank leaned forward so he could see the tops of the trees. “Doesn’t look like he did.”
They climbed out of the truck and walked through six inches of snow to the door.
Edith met them before either could knock.
“Morning,” she said. “What brings you folks out this morning?”
Alex saw the worry in the woman’s eyes. She could almost smell the fear. “We’re checking on folks,” Alex lied. “Making sure everyone’s got heat.”
A big man shoved Edith away from the door. “We got heat.” He held the door with one hand, making sure Alex and Hank couldn’t see into the house.
Hank stepped closer. “I’m Hank Matheson.”
“I know who you are.”
Hank tried again. “I was wondering if you could check on your neighbors and make sure they’re all right.”
“Most of them wouldn’t open the door if they saw me on their porch, and I’m not feeling like getting out in the cold again. I got under the house to make sure all the pipes were wrapped and the blasted trapdoor almost took my head off.” He dabbed at the side of his scalp with a stained tea towel.
“You want me to take a look at it? I’ve got a first-aid kit in the truck.”
“No. I’ve had worse. You folks best be on your way before you freeze out there.” Lloyd pulled the door closed.
Hank and Alex had no choice but to back away. When they were in the truck, Alex whispered as if Lloyd might hear, “That man’s no good. I’ll bet he’s beating Edith. I don’t like leaving her here with him.”
Hank started the engine. “And she’s the one trying to kill him. I’d be willing to bet that trapdoor didn’t just fall. Maybe you should arrest them both. They could share a cell.”
Alex leaned close to him, wishing they both didn’t have on heavy coats so she could feel his warmth. She loved curling up to him in the early mornings. When she’d snuggle close, he’d circle her with one arm and pull her against him, and for a while she’d feel like all was right with the world.
He must have been thinking the same thing because he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “How about I call Martha Q at the inn and book us a room for the night. Then we wouldn’t have to fight the ice all the way home and we could wake up tomorrow to a hot breakfast.”
Alex shook her head, remembering who was already snuggled up at the inn. “Everyone in town would know.”
He laughed. “You think everyone in town doesn’t already know?”
Chapter 24
SATURDAY MORNING
FEBRUARY 9, 2008
WINTER’S INN BED-AND-BREAKFAST
MARTHA Q WOKE UP TO ANOTHER MORNING OF SNOW falling outside her window. Not the big heavy kind from yesterday, but the light snow, barely more than white dust in the wind. She pulled the covers up and sighed. Cold mornings always made her long for a man to keep her warm.
With that thought, her eyes flew open and her feet hit the floor. The last thing she needed in her life was another man; coffee would do just fine. “After seven marriages, there has to be a time to call it quits.”
Evidently, she couldn’t even keep one in the inn. Gabe Leary had paid for two days and left before she got up yesterday. If Elizabeth hadn’t agreed to stay another night, Martha Q would have had to refund money. Something she never wanted to do.
Pulling on her robe as she climbed down the back stairs, Martha Q tried to plan her day. She would have gone nuts yesterday if the little lawyer hadn’t been there to keep her company. Mrs. Biggs liked to stay in her room, but Elizabeth play
ed cards and talked and even watched a movie with her, popcorn and all.
She opened the door to the kitchen and found the girl, dressed in her pink ski outfit, reading a magazine as she ate her breakfast. Mrs. Biggs was nowhere in sight.
“Morning,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll be heading out in an hour. Looks like the worst of the storm is over.”
Martha Q raised her hands as if shooing flies. “No, no, dear. It’d be too much trouble for you to dig that car out. Stay another day. We’re running a three-nights-for-two special.”
“Since when?” Liz asked raising an eyebrow.
“Since I just thought of it,” Martha Q testified. “We’ll make supper and invite a few folks over.”
“Who?’ Liz asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been around much lately,” Martha Q complained. In truth she had no one in town she really called friend. “How about you invite that good-looking man of yours? He left yesterday before I had a chance to say good-bye.”
“He’s not mine. I’m just his lawyer.” Liz shrugged. “Besides, he lives outside of town and I don’t think he has a phone. I even called the sheriff’s office and they said he hadn’t listed one. Anyone coming to eat today will have to be close enough to walk over. My guess is, after making the three-mile walk back to his place yesterday, he won’t be interested in doing it again.”
“You like that man, scarred as he is.”
“I didn’t see his scar, you did,” Liz argued. “Remember, you saw all his scar. And, yes, I do like him, but it’s just a physical thing. I don’t even know him, really.”
“Don’t play down the importance of physical attraction. I married because of lust all seven times. Trouble is, lust cools when you can’t pay the bills, so always check the bank account before you fall too far in love.”
Liz laughed. “I’ll remember that.” She picked up her cup and took it to the sink. “Now, Miss Martha Q, you plan the menu and I’ll think of people within walking distance that we can invite.”
The doorbell rang. Both women jumped.
Martha Q frowned. “Now who could that be coming to call before I even get my makeup on?”
“Only one way to find out.” Liz held the swing door open.
They were halfway to the front door when Mrs. Biggs stepped out of the parlor. “That’s Mr. Wright for me,” she said. “He said if the roads were clear enough, he’d come get me in the funeral home’s four-wheeler.”
Martha Q shook her head. “It’s awful cold to be sitting by a grave.”
Mrs. Biggs nodded. “He told me he’d pull the van up close so I could stay inside while he checks on things at the cemetery.” She opened the door.
Tyler looked bundled up and ready to climb Denali in winter. “Morning,” he said to both women as he offered his arm to Mrs. Biggs. “Now don’t you two worry about her. She’ll be fine while I go off with my groundskeeper to check on the damage this storm’s done to our old elms.”
Mrs. Biggs wrapped her scarf around her head and took his arm.
Tyler waved as he took baby steps across the porch. “I’ll have her back by noon.”
Martha Q gripped her robe at the throat and closed the door. When she turned back to Liz, she said, “You got that man’s cell number?”
“I could make a call and get it.”
“Good. Invite that undertaker to dinner. He’s always been nice to me, and I like to watch a man who loves to eat. If he was ten years older, I might consider him for number eight.”
Liz laughed. “Somehow I can’t see shy Tyler Wright with you . . . or me. He’s too . . .”
“Nice.” Martha Q finished her sentence. “You may be almost thirty and I’m—” She hesitated too long before adding, “almost fifty.” The lie was so apparent they both laughed before Martha Q continued, “But you and I, girl, we have one thing in common. We like our men a little rough around the edges. Tyler is the type of man who would always fold his napkin. Polish his shoes. Pull out your chair.”
“Wear pajamas. Return your calls,” Liz added to the list. “And of course ask if tonight would be a convenient time to make love.”
Martha hooted a laugh. “Whereas our kind of men, the ones who make our blood warm, are the kind who already have our clothes off before they remember to turn off the light and close the door.”
Liz hated to admit it, but the old girl was right. The wild ones, the bad boys, the outlaws had always been her type, even when reason convinced her to play it safe. “So, if I’d like Gabriel Leary to be my man, what do I have to do? Give me a little advice.”
Martha Q smiled as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask for years. “I heard a movie star get asked that same question. What does a woman have to do to let you know she’s interested in you? The star said simply, ‘Show up.’ ”
“So, when this snow clears, I should just drive out to his farm and knock on the door?” Liz somehow didn’t think it would be that easy.
Martha Q nodded. “That’s it.” Grabbing a slip of paper, she added, “Now you get to calling people and I’ll go see what we can cook for dinner. I’ve got half a beef in the freezer, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble, and with this snow, no one will have plans even if it is Saturday night.”
“It’s Saturday?” Liz had been so busy, she hadn’t given it much thought.
“You got plans?”
“No, but I almost forgot. It’s Saturday, February ninth. It’s my thirtieth birthday.”
Martha didn’t miss a beat. “No it’s not, dear, it’s your second twenty-ninth and this dinner just turned into a party.” She was halfway upstairs before she shouted down, “Call some people while I get dressed. We’ve no time to waste.”
Liz crawled onto the window seat in the dining room. First she called her brother, who could easily walk over from the fire station, and told him to bring Alex, his fiancée. Then she got Tyler’s cell number from Hank and called him. Tyler seemed delighted, and Liz couldn’t help but wonder if the man ever got invited to anything but funeral meals.
Then she froze. Elizabeth knew almost everyone in town, but she couldn’t think of another person to invite. Her mother, sister, and aunts wouldn’t want to leave the ranch. The few friends she’d kept up with since high school had families, and somehow she doubted Martha Q would welcome toddlers wandering around.
A strange ache gripped her chest as she realized the only person she wished was with her was Gabriel, and she didn’t really know him. Martha Q was wrong about one thing. Liz had thrown herself at him more than once, and he’d always walked away. Even if he did kiss like double heaven covered in chocolate, he still ran. Maybe he thought she’d be turned off by the scar that Martha said ran from his hip to his calf. Maybe he was worried about his limp. She’d mentioned it the second time she’d seen him, and she’d known without asking that the leg gave him pain when he moved, but she’d also touched his body when they’d hugged. He was made of pure muscle.
Liz closed her eyes and remembered how he’d felt pressed against her. They might not have much to say to each other, but everything about him, from his height to the way he smelled, made her want to draw closer.
She opened her eyes and looked out in the direction of the old Leary place. Buildings and trees blocked her view, but Liz still whispered a promise. “I’m coming,” she said. “Like it or not, I’m coming for you, Gabe Leary.”
She had no idea if they’d last one night or a lifetime, but she’d bet the time they spent together would be time she’d remember down to the seconds for the rest of her life.
Chapter 25
SATURDAY NIGHT
FEBRUARY 9, 2008
WRIGHT FUNERAL HOME
Sorry I’m so late in writing tonight, Kate. I went to dinner at Winter’s Inn with friends. This bed-and-breakfast wasn’t here when you visited Harmony two years ago during the grass fires. I wish I’d known you were here. I could have given you a tour of my town. I have a feeling most people drive through Harmony and wonder why
anyone would want to live here. They don’t see it like I do. They don’t see the beauty of it.
When I think about how we started e-mailing, I wish I’d been honest from the first with you about where I lived and who I was. People don’t do that on the Internet. It’s not safe, but I waited too long to tell you. If you’d known I was in Harmony, you could have called when you came.
I guess there are no “start-overs” in life. If I could wish just one, though, I’d wish it with you.
Tonight we celebrated Liz Matheson turning thirty. She thinks she’s getting old, but she seems so young to me. I remember when I was thirty, I thought everything was a possibility. Now in my forties I find myself now and then afraid to dream. I don’t want to spend my life dreaming.
The snowstorm’s over, but the snow will hang around for a while. Speaking of things hanging around, remember the border collie I told you about? Well, she’s still living with me. When the days are warmer, I’m sure I’ll find her a home. She’s a smart pup. She’s learned to use the kitchen elevator. Goes up and down. If I’m upstairs or in my study, she wants to be right with me. Folks don’t seem to mind. When they come in my study, they often stop to pet her before we plan.
I miss talking to you, Kate. If you ever find the time, let me know you’re out there and doing okay.
I’m still driving over to Quartz Mountain and ordering you a glass of wine on the first Monday of the month. Don’t think of me as sad if you ever read this. Think of me as remembering all the times we e-mailed over dinner. Good memories, even if they don’t grow over the years, are still good memories. I feel like if I gave up on them, I’d be giving up on you and I’m not ready to do that yet.
Until tomorrow,
Ty
TYLER CLICKED SEND AND LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR. He’d had more to drink than his usual one glass of wine tonight. Maybe that’s why he wrote more from the heart than usual, but what did it matter? No one was on the other end anyway.
