“She told you that?”
“I wasn’t the only one she told,” Mrs. Harrison said. “When her husband called her to pick him up, she told him, too.”
“She did?”
“Sure she did. Or at least, she tried to explain it to him, but he outshouted her. Typical hormone-stuffed jerk,” she muttered.
Cheyenne refrained from saying what she would like to stuff him with. “So let me get this straight, Mrs. Harrison. My sister was completely aware that she wasn’t supposed to be driving that day.”
“That’s right. Although she did say before she left that she thought the medication might be wearing off by the time she drove away. I think that was just an excuse, though. I think she was a little afraid of her husband, and he was shouting loudly enough that I heard his voice from the receiver all the way in the other room.”
“Why didn’t she have him take a taxi?”
“She suggested it, and he shouted again.”
Cheyenne’s fingernails stabbed her hands. “Mrs. Harrison, I know you and your husband are aware of the lawsuit Kirk has filed against me and the hospital. Has he ever given you any details about the case?”
“Never. That sounds like it must be top secret stuff, because I’ve never heard a thing. I just figured Kirk wasn’t supposed to talk about the case.”
“He isn’t.” But that wouldn’t have stopped him. “The lawsuit is actually being based on the allegation that I failed to warn my sister about the dangers of driving, operating other heavy machinery or climbing under the influence of the medication I gave her.”
Mrs. Harrison frowned, leaning forward on the sofa. “But that’s silly. That’s crazy!”
“My attorneys are advising me to settle because we can’t seem to prove we warned her. Apparently, my documentation was missing—”
“But they can’t do that! You did warn her, and she told me.”
“Would you be willing to testify about that?”
“Of course I’ll testify. You just tell me who I need to talk to.” She leaned forward and winked slyly. “Want to hear some good dirt on Kirk? The guys are all talking about it down at the golf club. Seems his secretary turned him in to the IRS, and he’s in the hot seat for tax fraud.”
But the news didn’t please Cheyenne, as she would have expected. It saddened her.
Fifteen minutes later, she got into her car and plugged in her phone. She dialed Larry Strong’s office. When he came on the line, she gave a brief explanation of her visit, and told him she would not be willing to settle.
When she arrived home she would type a letter with the same message.
Before going home, however, she drove to the cemetery and parked near Susan’s grave marker. The evening was warm, and most likely filled with millions of hungry mosquitoes. She got out of the car and took her customary position by the marker with the picture of Susan’s laughing face.
This time it felt different, however. This time the horrible grief, which had weighed on her so heavily every time she came here, had lifted.
“Sis,” she whispered, feeling self-conscious even though she could see no other cars in the cemetery. “I miss you.” She pressed her hand against the engraved words and closed her eyes. “And I’ll always love you. I’m sorry I didn’t bring flowers this time, but I think you have enough flowers where you are.”
Did she truly believe that?
Yes. It wasn’t wishful thinking; it was as if she had suddenly realized the enormity of the truth that had been dawning on her for a long time. “Thanks for never giving up on me, for telling me like it is, even though you knew how I felt about all that Christ talk.”
A car horn blared in the distance, and an airplane droned overhead as she sat contemplating all the things she wished she could tell her sister personally right now. “You know how you complained so many times about my bossiness? From the day you were born, I felt so responsible for you. I felt that if I didn’t take care of you, something horrible would happen.”
She swallowed. Hard. “And then when it did, I believed for a long time that it was my fault.”
But it hadn’t been, she knew that now. “And it turns out that you were the one looking after me all this time, even in my dreams after you died, and I want you to know—I just wish I could tell you, somehow—that I’m listening.”
Susan had been right all along.
Dane waited until all the boys were upstairs, and Cook was safely ensconced in front of the television in his room, before picking up the phone. He glanced at the number he had written on his bedside stand just before Cheyenne’s departure, and he dialed.
When she answered, he was struck again by the mellow, sweet tone of her voice.
“Cheyenne? This is Dane.”
Silence.
“Hello?” he said.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“It’s fine, I just thought I’d call and see how you were doing.”
There was a sound of soft laughter. “I can’t believe you called just when I was thinking about you.”
He smiled into the receiver. “You were?”
“I was just thinking about how surprised you would be by the things that have happened in the past few days. You won’t believe it.”
“Let’s see…you came to your senses and decided to come back to Hideaway.” There was a long pause, and Dane felt awkward. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.”
“No. Really. I was just wondering how you knew that.”
For a moment, he forgot to breathe. “It isn’t nice to tease me like that.”
“I’ve never been considered a tease.” She laughed again, and he loved the sound of it. “Dane, I think we’ve got some good evidence to help us with the malpractice case.”
“You do? That’s wonder—”
“And yes, I’ve been missing Hideaway a lot. I have to work the weekend of the fishing tournament.”
“Oh.” And that was good news?
“And I think it’s a direct answer to my prayers.”
“You do?” She’d been praying?
“Yes. This past month, all I’ve thought about has been the time I spent there. I’ve been daydreaming about what it would be like to live there instead of in my cramped, noisy apartment.”
“I thought you loved what you did.”
“I realized I love treating patients. I guess I’m not as addicted to adrenaline surges as I once thought. There would be one big problem, though.”
Okay, here came the big kink in the works. “What’s that?”
“Money.”
“I know the setup expenses will be heavy, but I’ve been talking to a lot of people around here. You’ll have a lot of community involvement. You’ll probably have to take a big cut in pay at first—”
“There’s the rub, Dane. You know I give a lot to the rescue mission three blocks away from where I live.”
“I believe you could eventually earn enough here in Hideaway that you could start giving to them again. I can’t guarantee that, however. Would it help you to know about how many people you would be helping right here? People like Red, who might be more willing to accept medical care after they’ve come to know you and trust you? People like Blaze, who might have died if not for you the night of the fire?”
“Red died.” He heard the thread of self-recrimination. “If I’d tried harder to convince him to seek medical care, Bertie wouldn’t be struggling with so much loneliness now.”
“If you’d had access to a well-stocked and equipped clinic nearby, I believe you might have convinced him to see you, simply because he trusted you. He didn’t want to be passed off to some impersonal doctor in some strange place.”
“Yes, I know, but one doctor can’t do everything.”
“I’m not asking you to, but look how much potential you’d have right here to touch lives. And look at Blaze. Not only have you helped him break through that reading barrier, you saved his life.”
“You could have—”
“I couldn’t have started his heart again, Cheyenne. Just listen to what I’m saying. How many more lives could you change right here in Hideaway?”
“It’s all I’ve thought about lately,” she said.
It took a great deal of effort not to let his hopes soar to dangerous heights. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. She was just thinking about it, she wasn’t doing anything about it yet.
“Cheyenne, are you coming to the festival in September? Blaze has been training race pigs for about half a dozen—”
“I’ll be there. I’ve already asked for the time off, and I wouldn’t miss those pig races for anything.”
“And after that?”
A pause. “Under the terms of my contract, I have to give a ninety-day notice.”
“Three months?”
“It could take awhile to find a physician to fill my position.”
“Cheyenne, there’s another physician checking out the town. He seems interested.”
“Oh. How interested?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to talk to Austin about that.”
“I think I will.”
Yes!
“Dane? Thanks for being so pushy.”
“Pushy?”
“About God. I finally got the message. I’m going to see my sister again someday.”
He closed his eyes. Thank you, Lord. Thank you. “Until then, you have a home waiting for you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Cheyenne awakened the day of the Hideaway celebration to the drone of the air conditioner in the living room. She glanced out the bedroom window toward the lake and saw the sky barely tinged with a golden-pink glow of early sunrise. She smiled and stretched, luxuriating in her surroundings—in spite of the heat that had forced her to use the window unit.
She’d turned into a wimp since leaving here.
Blue stirred beside her, and she shoved the blankets back. It felt strange to be back after two and a half months of long hours and longer weeks in the ER. It felt particularly strange to realize this was her new home. For good. She would be living here, rent free, with an option to buy. She’d turned in her resignation the day after telling Dane her decision, and Jim had arranged for her to get out of her contract early. One of the docs who had taken her place when she was on leave had jumped at the chance to have her position permanently. She, in turn, had jumped at the chance to escape the job she’d once loved.
Multicolored balloons floated from a vase of flowers in the living room—compliments of her going-away party yesterday at the hospital. A chocolate-cherry cheesecake waited for her in the refrigerator, a gift from Ardis.
As she stepped out the front door, holding a wedge of the cheesecake in her hand, she noted how the goldenrod grew in clumps around the perimeter of the field in front of the house. The lavender of chicory edged the drive from the road. Morning mist clung to the spiderwebs atop cedar trees south of the house, forming delicate lace in the topmost branches.
“Thank You,” she whispered, turning her face to the sky. “How could I have missed Your masterpieces all these years?”
She glanced across the lake and saw the roof of the barn at the ranch. Today she would see Dane for the first time since she left here—and Bertie, and Blaze and the others.
But Dane…with him there was a best-friend kind of feel, yet a connection that went beyond even that. She knew he was going to be busy today, especially since he was leaving the store open in addition to helping with the celebration activities, but she couldn’t wait to see him, touch him, and once again put a physical dimension to the sweet, supportive, intellectually challenging relationship that had formed between them over the telephone and e-mail these past weeks.
In two hours Bertie would be down at the dock waiting for her, and she would be ready.
She felt such a sense of rightness in this place. She would always miss Susan, but the darkness she’d felt when she first arrived here had disappeared.
The telephone rang as she was deciding which shoes to wear. It was Larry Strong. She sat down in the rocker beside the phone stand, and took a deep breath as the familiar tightness clenched her jaw.
“Cheyenne, you’ll be receiving a letter in the mail next week,” he said by way of greeting, “but I wanted to tell you now. The judge has dismissed the case.”
She nearly dropped her shoe. She leaned back in the chair, and the breath went out of her.
“Cheyenne?”
For a moment, she couldn’t reply. “What happened?”
“Ed’s office received notice yesterday evening. That new witness you turned up in July made the difference for us. It was obvious you warned Susan about the dangers of driving under the influence of her medication, and she not only told her neighbor about the warning but tried to tell her husband. I’m pretty sure that even if the case hadn’t been dismissed, Mr. Warden’s attorneys would have advised him to drop it. Testimony like that before a jury would damage them irreparably.”
After he congratulated her and said goodbye, she replaced the phone on its base and sat staring out the window for a long moment. She was free. Her sister’s name wouldn’t be dragged through the dirt of a court battle.
The good news hadn’t brought Susan back.
But Susan wouldn’t want to come back.
Blue rubbed against Cheyenne’s leg, purring like the motor on Dane’s boat. She picked him up and carried him to the kitchen. Time for coffee, and then to get ready for the fair.
“I’m not going.” Blaze stood staring out the barn window, ignoring the white-and-pink pig that nudged at his ankles, pleading for food.
“Of course you’re going,” Dane said. “You’ve been planning this thing for months, you’ve trained half the entrants.”
“The other guys can race them. I’m staying here today.”
“Please don’t try to tell me you’ve suddenly developed stage fright.”
Blaze lifted the lid from the grain bin and poured a scoop of dried corn kernels into the steel trough. The pig dived in eagerly, with her floppy-eared siblings surrounding her. “I don’t want to go to the races. I don’t need the pressure right now.”
“For Pete’s sake, Blaze, it’s a homemade carnival in a tiny village. It’s a pig race. All you have to do—”
“You know what I think?” Blaze scowled at him. “I think I’m some kind of experiment for you, to see if the great Dane Gideon can work his magic with a poor black boy with a learning disorder and a health problem and convince a town of rednecks to accept him.”
The words stung. “You know better. Don’t take your nervous tension out on me.”
Blaze knelt to scratch the pig’s head. “I don’t want to go.”
“Blaze, would you listen to yourself? It’s a pig race. It’s a fun little community competition with a bunch of cute little animals addicted to Oreo cookies. It isn’t the Olympic games.”
Blaze returned to the window and rested his forearms on the sill. “Everybody’s going to be there today, right?”
“Everybody I know.”
“And no one’s going to be here to watch things.”
“Why should they? We leave the place unattended a lot. We go to church and leave it—Blaze, why all this sudden concern? What’s going on?”
“I don’t have a good feeling about today, okay?” Blaze said. “This would be a perfect time for the vandal to hit again.”
“Why? It’s been three months.”
“That’s what I mean. It’s like this person needs to let off steam every so often, and so he does something when no one’s expecting it. The barn was a big thing, and so that eased a lot of this guy’s pressure, but nothing’s happened since then, and so that pressure’s been building all summer.”
“You told me you thought the vandal wasn’t from around here, that he’d moved on.”
“I don’t think that, I hope that.”
Dane felt the same way, but to hear it come from Blaze, as well—almost as if Blaze k
new, somehow, who was responsible…“Okay, I’ll ask you again, do you have some idea about who the vandal might be?”
“Not a fair question.” Blaze closed his eyes and sighed. “No, I don’t know.”
Dane didn’t buy it. “If you have a clue about who might have burned the boat this spring, and the barn, and—”
“Okay, I’ll go to the stupid festival. I’ll race pigs and play with the other kids and be nice, but we should come back home and check on things a couple of times.”
Dane tried to hold Blaze’s gaze, but couldn’t. The kid had something more on his mind, but Dane had discovered early on that if Blaze didn’t want to talk about something, he didn’t talk.
“I had already planned to keep watch, Blaze. I’m taking my binoculars, and we can come back and do a physical check, but if you’re protecting someone, or if you know something you should be telling me, and something happens today because you didn’t warn me—”
“I know.” Blaze rubbed his face wearily, staring out the window once more. “I’m responsible.” He nodded. “I know.”
Bertie showed up precisely on time, and Cheyenne was at the dock to meet her. The boat was so filled with Bertie’s baked goods and crafts that Cheyenne had barely enough room to sit down.
“I wasn’t going to go today, but Dane and Cook talked me into it,” the older woman said as she turned the boat around and maneuvered it out of the cove. “They reminded me how I always loved setting up my little stall and mixing with the people.”
Cheyenne had spoken to Bertie over the telephone at least twice a week since she’d returned to Columbia. She knew how deeply Bertie had mourned Red’s death, how much she missed him. Though Cheyenne and Bertie had become good friends soon after Cheyenne came to Hideaway, it seemed as if they’d developed a special bond since Bertie lost Red—a sisterhood through grief.
“I can’t wait to see what it’s like.” Cheyenne fingered one of Bertie’s prized castles, made from the tiny clamshells that washed up along the shore of Table Rock Lake.
Bertie revved up the motor and picked up speed in the direction of town—barely a quarter of a mile from Cheyenne’s cove.
Hideaway Page 31
