A crowd of kids was gathering, and a teacher ran out of the building toward them. If her father thought he could sneak in here, grab her, and run, then he was wrong. And mention of the sheriff was enough to take some of the wind out of his sails. Natasha knew he hated backing down, but he hated jail more.
Holding his shoulder, he fumbled for the handle of his truck door and flung it open. He cursed a few times and then shouted, “This ain’t over between us.”
“Oh, you can count on that, Brian,” Lucy said as she came up to the passenger side. “I promise you I’m not finished with you yet.”
Her father shifted into first gear and lurched forward, punching the gas and speeding off.
Lucy and Dolly looked at each other and then at Natasha. Teachers gathered around her. Mr. Cook, the PE teacher, asked her if she wanted to coach girls’ softball. Mrs. Daniels, the principal, said the sheriff was on his way.
But Lucy barely nodded to them all as she crossed the sidewalk to Natasha. “Are you okay, kid?”
“I’m fine, now.” Dolly came up to her and licked her hand.
“What about your arm?” Lucy’s breathing was still quick, and she still gripped the bat as if expecting more trouble.
Natasha rubbed the dog between the ears. “Daddy turned my arm pretty good. But I don’t think it’s broken.”
“That’s not up to you to decide. I’m taking you to the doctor.” Lucy hugged her close. She melted into the embrace, and it felt almost like the times her mama used to hold her. Tears choked her throat, and as much as she wanted to be brave, she started to sob. And they weren’t cute, pretty tears like Angie Hanover cried when the teacher asked where her homework was. They were big, slobbery tears.
But they didn’t seem to bother Lucy, who held her closer and patted her back with a hand that trembled just a little.
The principal prattled on to Lucy about how they were sorry. Natasha had slipped out a little early. Normally there’s a teacher on duty. Lucy nodded politely and said they’d talk about it later. Not to worry. She had it under control.
As they walked to the Jeep, Lucy fished out her cell phone. “Hank, this is Lucy.” Natasha missed most of what Lucy said because she shot the words out so fast, she might as well have been firing a machine gun. “Right, got it.”
Lucy opened the front door of her Jeep. Dolly jumped onto the seat and then into the back as Natasha settled inside. A kid from the school handed Natasha her backpack, which Lucy stowed. Lucy reached in her glove box, dug out some clean fast-food napkins, and handed them to her.
“What about the chest?” Natasha blew her nose. “I’ve been waiting all day to find out what was in it. I don’t want to go to the doctor. I’m fine.”
“Not about what you want right now, kid. Hank’s meeting us at the clinic. He said the town doc can check your arm and x-ray it.”
She thumped her head against the headrest in frustration. “Ahh. This sucks.”
“It could have been a hell of a lot worse, kid.”
Lucy
When Hank pushed through the door of the doctor’s office, his expression bordered on murderous. His keys and phone were gripped in his fists, and he was wearing faded jeans, dusty work boots, and a jacket that read BEACON VINEYARDS. He strode toward the front reception window and leaned in until the nurse on the phone hung up. “Where’s Natasha?”
“Doctor’s with her now,” the nurse said quickly.
Lucy rose along with Dolly. The adrenaline bump that had sent her charging out of the car had faded, and her body was spent. She smoothed shaking hands along her jeans. “Hank, she’s in X-ray.”
Hank looked at her with eyes clouded with rage and worry. “What happened? Why weren’t you there?”
“I was a few minutes late getting to the school, and Natasha apparently slipped out of school early. I was in the library. Lost track of time and then had to run back to the cottage to get Dolly.”
He held up his hand, a signal he didn’t want to hear the rest. “What happened?”
She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “Her father showed up, and he tried to force her into his car.”
Hands on hips, he leaned toward her. “But he didn’t, correct?”
“No, I arrived in time. Her arm was badly twisted, and the doctor wants to make sure there isn’t a spiral fracture. He should be out any moment.” She desperately wanted him to hold her. During Beth’s illness, she’d made several trips to the emergency room, and she’d grown to hate everything about it.
But Hank’s rigid body offered no invitation or tenderness, and his entire demeanor made her feel worse.
“Jesus, Lucy, I trusted you,” he said.
“And I was a minute late,” she retorted. His words were like a spark to tinder. Everything that had frustrated her over the last five months combusted into flames. “I don’t need you standing here and judging me.”
“You were late,” he repeated.
“One minute!” Dolly’s ears perked, and she nudged closer to Lucy.
“Lower your voice,” he said.
“Why?” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “The whole damn town knows each other’s business, and I’m sure they’re all talking about what a screw-up Lucy Kincaid is now.”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “No one is saying that. I’m not.” He shoved out a breath. “They’re saying you were a badass.”
She shook her head. In truth, she’d been terrified. She’d had no idea what she was going to do or how she was going to stop a six-foot-two bully. She’d broken up her share of bar fights, but there had always been a bouncer who’d had her back. Willard would have killed her if he could.
When she didn’t speak, he took her hand in his. “I’m sure he’s nursing a few bruises. Where’s Rick?”
“He’s in there talking to Natasha now. Why didn’t he arrive sooner? This is a small town.”
“It’s just him on the police force, and he covers a large area. He’s got a part-time deputy, but it’s mostly him.”
Her temper was cooling and her nerves calming. She liked holding his hand.
“What were you doing at the library?” he asked.
“Reading up on Winter Cottage.” The history had grabbed her by the collar and wouldn’t let go. She’d actually been resentful when the alarm on her phone sounded and she had to get up and leave to get Natasha. But she could never tell this to Hank. He was a man who always did the right thing. He wouldn’t have been late.
Rick came out from the examining room and crossed the lobby directly to Hank and Lucy. “You can relax,” he said. “She’s fine. No breaks. Maybe a sprain, so the doctor is wrapping it now.”
“When can we see her?” Lucy asked.
“It’ll be a few more minutes,” he said. “And while we got the time, why don’t you tell me what happened. Natasha gave me her version, but she’s a little dopey on pain meds now. She keeps saying you can swing a bat like a pro.”
“It’s a bat I kept behind the bar in Nashville. I brought it with me from Nashville just in case I had trouble on the road. When I pulled up and saw Natasha struggling with her dad, I didn’t think twice about grabbing the bat.” Recounting the story triggered another surge of adrenaline. “Have you found Willard?”
Rick flipped a page in a small notebook. “We’re still looking for him.”
“When you do, he’s going to tell you I hit him with the bat,” Lucy said. “He’s right, and it wasn’t a glancing blow.”
The sheriff’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t allow a smile. “You were defending Natasha, correct?”
“She was screaming,” she said. “And I once learned in a self-defense class that if you’re going to take a swing, you better make the first one count.”
Hank muttered something under his breath. “He could have killed you.”
“Like I said, I figured I’d only get one time at bat.”
Rick’s expression lost all traces of humor as he scribbled a few words in his notebook.
“Hank’s right, you don’t know Brian. He would have snapped your neck.”
“And we all know he’s hurt Natasha before,” Hank said.
“I hear you,” Rick said, “but I have to make sure I understand what happened if this ever gets to court.”
“Why would it go to court?” Hank said.
“Everything seems to make it to court these days,” he said. “But Lucy doesn’t have to worry. I’ve spoken to a few folks at school, and they said exactly the same thing. Brian rolled up, exchanged words with Natasha, and seconds later she was screaming and trying to get away.”
The sounds of that child’s screams would rattle in Lucy’s head for a long time. “Can I see her now? I’d like to take her back to the cottage.” She couldn’t bring herself to say home. The word home carried with it a lifetime of obligations that still scared the hell out of her.
“Sure, the doc should be done now,” Rick said.
“I’m going with you,” Hank said. His jaw was pulsing again, and his tone verged on terse, but his fingers had relaxed from tight to loose fists.
“Sure,” Lucy said.
“She’s in cubicle six,” Rick said. “One more question. Where’s the Peacemaker?”
“She’s in the car.”
“She?” Rick said.
“Sure, why not?” With Dolly trailing behind her, Lucy pushed through the doors and strode straight to cubicle six. She swiped back the curtain and found Natasha sitting on her bed, grinning and hugging her arm, which now rested in a sling. The swoosh of the curtain made the kid flinch as her head swiveled around. When she saw Lucy, the stress wrinkling her brow eased a little.
“Luceee. Dolleee,” Natasha said. “I’ve been asking for you.”
The kid was loopy, which was for the best. Lucy came up by the bed and carefully took Natasha’s good hand in hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you got out of school.”
“Late, schmate. Anything under an hour isn’t late. Not late at all. I was early. I wanted to open the chest.” She rolled her head toward Hank. “Look, the gang is all here.”
“Hey, kiddo,” Hank said.
“I should have been a little early. I’m sorry.”
“Who’d ever have thought my dad would be on time,” Natasha said. “He’s never on time. Ever.” Her brows drew together as she eyed Lucy. “You sure did hit him hard. I’ve never seen him that mad before. I thought he was going to kill you.”
Hank’s frown returned, and the fingers of his right hand flexed, reminding her of a boxer before he gloved up. “Sheriff Rick is looking for your dad, Natasha.”
“He’s violated his parole,” the girl said. “He won’t want to go back to jail. He’ll be hard to find.”
“That’s too bad,” Lucy said. “Because Rick is going to find him and lock him up.”
The girl didn’t express relief as most might expect. Instead, her worry deepened with the lines in her forehead and around her mouth. Lucy understood. As much as the girl feared her father, he was her only family. And though he was the devil in many respects, he was the devil she knew. He was family. Blood. And it did count, no matter what anyone said.
“Ready to go back to the cottage?” Lucy said.
“You still want me?” Natasha shook her head. “With Dad running around, that’s probably not too smart.”
“The doors have good locks,” Lucy said. “And the walls are a couple of feet thick.”
“And until your father is caught,” Hank said, “I can stay at the cottage.”
“Would you?” Natasha sounded relieved. “I mean Lucy can wield a bat like nobody’s business, but it might take more than a bat the next time Dad stops by.”
“As long as it’s okay with Lucy,” he said.
Natasha, Hank, and Dolly looked at her. Natasha was hopeful. Hank’s gaze challenged. Dolly’s tail was wagging. She could take care of Natasha and Dolly without Hank. She knew how to be careful. But the reality was she had to sleep sometime, and this wasn’t just about her. She had to think about the kid. And if she could just get over the idea that Hank would be sleeping down the hall, well, she would be just fine. “Sure.”
“He can stay in the yellow room,” Natasha said.
Right. The one that was connected to the pink room. “Sure.”
“Can we open the trunk when we get home?” Natasha asked. “Everyone at school is curious to know what’s in it. I want to tell them what we found tomorrow.”
“Let’s see how you’re feeling. And you might not be going to school for a few days.”
“Why not? I have a story and a sling. I want to go.”
Hank grinned. “Never thought I’d hear you whining about not going to school.”
She rubbed her hand over her injured arm. “Hank, you should have seen Lucy. She looked like Wonder Woman.”
Hank allowed a slow, lazy grin as his gaze slid over her. “Really?”
“Not that dramatic,” Lucy said.
“I wish I’d seen it,” he said. “The sheriff said folks are all talking about it.”
That warmth that seemed to spread through her body when he was around started heating up again. And seeing as they were going to be in adjoining rooms, she knew there would be trouble if she didn’t check her feelings for Hank.
“Enough about my crime fighting. Let’s get Natasha home,” Lucy said.
“Yes, ma’am.” And as he rose he whispered, “Can’t wait to find out where you keep the Lasso of Truth.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beth
June 5, 1988
Beth is over a half hour late, and when she pushes through the sturdy door of the cottage, she can see Mrs. B is annoyed. The old woman has a thing for punctuality and says tardiness is right up there with stealing. Time is our most precious thing, or some BS like that.
Her stomach is queasy, and she has one hell of a headache, but she tries not to think about either. She wonders what is happening in Paris or Nashville now. She bets people in big cities live happy, exciting lives.
Beth opens the pocket doors leading into the parlor. “Hey, Mrs. B. I’d blame it on traffic, but we don’t have any around here.”
The older woman is dressed in a pale-green dress with three-quarter-length sleeves made of a knit fabric. There is a matching belt at her waist. As always, she’s wearing her ivory pin. The old woman’s hair is styled in a twist, which Beth practiced the other night but found that her long blonde hair refused to stay pinned.
Beth’s hands tremble as she tucks her hair behind her ear and begins to rummage through her camera bag for the microphone. She’s glad she has Mrs. B today. It’s a bright spot in a world that is getting more and more confusing.
“What is wrong with you?” Mrs. B asked.
She doesn’t look up, afraid her face shows her fear. “I’m late. Isn’t that enough?”
“You look pale.”
“I’m pretty white, even in the summer.”
“You also look upset.”
“Because I’m late. I know how you hate it.”
The old woman scoffs. “You’ve never been upset by tardiness before. I doubt you’ve ever been worried about time. What is wrong with you?”
Some of her frustration bubbles to the surface. “It didn’t go so well with Noah. I made a play for him, and he said no. Did you know he married his girlfriend? And guess what, she’s pregnant.” Beth shrugs. “I thought she was getting fat.”
“I wasn’t aware of the baby. His father and grandfather are honorable men, and he’s a good boy. And I like his girlfriend.” A delicate gray brow arched. “I told you he was committed to Nancy.”
“It was stupid. I get that. I just wanted a little bit of nice in my life.” Her grin is exaggerated. “What is Noah’s kid to you? Some great-great something?”
“Great-nephew,” the old woman said.
“More babies for Winter Cottage. You like babies, right?”
Beth wonders why the hell she’s talking about babies as she sets
up the camera on the tripod. There are times when she kinda wishes the old lady were her grandmother or distant relative. It would be a comfort to be able to share with her. But if she tells the old lady how she’s screwing up her life, then she’ll see disappointment and regret. Beth can’t bear that.
“Where’s your father?”
“He’s still at sea. He’ll be home in a couple of weeks.”
“Is anyone staying with you at your house?”
“I’ve been staying alone since I was fifteen. I’m fine.”
“What is that on your wrist?” Mrs. B asks. “Is that a bruise?”
Beth glances at the ring of purple around her wrist and carefully tugs down her sleeve. “Nothing. I’m fine. We better get started if we’re going to tape today. Mrs. Reynolds is super excited. Says I’m exceeding her wildest expectations.”
Mrs. B was having none of it. “No one should leave bruises on you, Elizabeth.”
“It was an accident.” And it kind of was. If Beth had known one joke would have pissed him off so much, she wouldn’t have made it. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Disappointed.”
“I understand more than you realize. You think I’m a silly old woman. But I have seen nearly a hundred years, and I know when an accident is not an accident.”
Mrs. B looks ready to interject more wisdom Beth doesn’t want to hear. How could this rich old woman really know? She lives in a big house and has all the money in the world. Bad stuff doesn’t happen to people like that.
Beth hits “Record” and says, “Rolling.”
Claire
October 1916
Robert went off to his war, and Claire was glad to see him go. As she’d kissed him goodbye, they’d both looked into each other’s eyes, and she saw her own feelings mirrored back. Their impulsive marriage had been a terrible mistake. She knew he feared his father’s reaction, whereas she couldn’t forgive him for refusing to adopt Victoria’s baby.
Shortly after his car drove away, she climbed the stairs to check on Victoria. They’d be leaving for New York in a week or so. However, the girl was still in bed, and her body burned with a raging fever.
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