Just a Wish Away

by Barbara Freethy

  * * *

  Braden dragged his old bike down the stairs of his apartment building early Thursday morning. It was one of the few items he'd retrieved from the house he'd shared with his soon-to-be ex-wife on the other side of town. He'd always loved to ride, but it had been a long time since he'd been on his bike, probably since before he'd enlisted.

  When he reached the parking lot behind his building, he hopped on, hoping the tires would make it to the nearest gas station where he could put in some air. His right thigh protested as he started to pedal, the muscles still painful from the recent tear in his quad muscle. But it felt good to ride, the wind in his face, the sun on his head, the smell of salt water in the air. It was springtime in Sand Harbor, a new beginning for nature and maybe for him, too.

  The last few months had been brutal. He hadn't handled his injuries, his marriage, or his discharge from the Army at all well. It had been too much to deal with at one time. But he was tired of feeling out of it, of sitting in his apartment all day long, drifting aimlessly... He'd always been active. He'd always had goals.

  Unfortunately, all of his early goals had been about following in his dad's very impressive footsteps. Now, he didn't know what he wanted to do.

  As he rode toward the downtown area, he couldn't help thinking about Alexa. Bike riding had been their thing. From June to August, he'd gotten up every morning and met Alexa on the corner by her aunt's house. They'd taken off together each day on a new adventure. Even when they didn't do more than just ride around, their days were full, fun. They connected on so many levels. They didn't even have to talk to understand each other.

  At first, it had just been a friendship. They'd met when they were ten, but by the time they were twelve, he'd definitely started noticing how pretty she was, how much he wanted to put his arm around her, hold her hand, maybe even kiss her. He'd finally gotten his courage up that last day, that last moment.

  One kiss, that's all they'd had.

  He'd kissed a lot of other girls since then. He'd even married one. But Alexa had never completely left his mind. She'd always been there, somewhere in the background, an unrealized dream.

  His friends from school had been happy when Alexa stopped coming around. When she was in town, he'd ditched them to spend time with her. He couldn't help himself. Her beautiful smile had literally lit up his world. And then she was gone. It wasn't her fault. She'd been a kid, and her parents had made her leave, but he'd never imagined that that last day on the beach would be the last day he'd see her for many, many years. He'd never considered that she wouldn't write, wouldn't call him every other second. For years, he'd thought they'd meet up again, but when he had finally gone to see her in high school, she'd been with someone else. It hadn't really surprised him. Why wouldn't she have moved on from the childhood crush they'd had on each other? It had been years.

  He was a little surprised that Alexa had come back to Sand Harbor after college. He couldn't believe it was to see him, although part of him wanted to think that way. But it had probably been more of a desire to reconnect with her aunt and maybe check in on him at the same time. He'd been married by then. Married and in the Army. He'd rushed into both.

  But all that was in the past. Alexa was here now. He was here, too. For the first time in a long time they were in the same physical space. But mentally, they were no doubt miles apart.

  He was still reeling from the events of the past few months, and he had way too much emotional baggage to even think of dumping it on someone else. Alexa would press him to talk. She'd already started asking questions, and he knew that wasn't going to stop any time soon, but he didn't want to tell her about his past. Not just because he didn't want to share the horrific details, but also because he didn't really want her to look at him differently. And she would.

  Kinley had.

  The thought of his soon-to-be ex-wife made him pedal harder – faster.

  Kinley had been a huge mistake. They'd met three months before they married. It had been fast and fun and completely foolish. They'd been twenty years old, old enough to know better, but young enough to still be stupid. Kinley hadn't known what she was getting herself into, and he hadn't either. He'd believed they'd be like his parents, who had married young and been incredibly happy. When he'd thought of the Army, he'd seen in his head the picture of his father in his uniform, the photo that had sat on the mantel in his mother's living room for his entire life. That picture had shown a man who was perfect and proud, one objective in his eyes, to serve his country and protect his family, not a hint of doubt about his career choice. The war Braden had gotten himself into had had very few clear objectives. It had been chaotic and bloody, one win turning into two losses, a never-ending fight that he doubted could ever be won. His marriage had turned out to be just as messy.

  It was over now – all of it. He needed to move on.

  He stopped at the gas station and filled up his tires, and then headed toward the harbor. It was only a few miles and mostly flat, so not a difficult ride. It was a beautiful day, with only a few white clouds to mar the vast blue sky. When he'd been overseas, he'd carried this picture in his head: the picturesque downtown streets with the open air cafés and boutiques, the boats gently swaying in the harbor, and the fishermen selling the day's catch every afternoon. Sand Harbor was what the world should be, he thought -- peaceful, calm, pretty. But the rest of the world wasn't like that at all, at least not the places he'd traveled the past few years.

  When he reached the antique store, he felt a surge of anticipation. He parked his bike by the tree in front of the store and was just about to knock when Alexa opened the door.

  "Hi," she said, her smile a bit tentative. "I saw you through the window."

  "I figured you'd be in here early. You always liked a treasure hunt."

  "I wish we were just looking for treasure." She stepped back and waved him inside, locking the door behind him.

  "Any news on your aunt?"

  "Yes, she woke up last night, and the doctor thinks she's going to make a full recovery. I stopped in early this morning, but she was still asleep. I'm going to go back later."

  "I'm glad," he said, seeing the relief in her eyes.

  "Me, too. So after I left you last night, I did a little research on Ariel, otherwise known as Shayla Cummings."

  "What did you find out?"

  "That Shayla was a model turned actress, whose first movie bombed, but she was comforted by quite a lineup of attractive men and power players. Unfortunately, I couldn't tie any of those men to Sand Harbor," Alexa added. "And what also disturbs me is that the local news coverage was so skimpy in regards to her death. This town never has anything newsworthy to report, yet the drowning of a beautiful actress only gets a couple of paragraphs? I don't get it."

  "I noticed that, too."

  She gave him a knowing smile. "So I wasn't the only one who was curious."

  "I couldn't stop thinking about that fight we witnessed," he admitted.

  "Exactly. What if we saw something, and we didn't realize it at the time," she said, an excited note in her voice. "We didn't know she was going to die a short while later, so we weren't paying attention in any particular way. But we were the only ones on the beach that night. We could have been the only witnesses."

  "But we don't know what we witnessed," he said, trying to dampen her enthusiasm. He could feel himself getting caught up in her story the way he always had. He tried to tell himself to keep it real, get a grip, but then he thought what the hell – it had been months since he'd been interested in anything. Pondering a fifteen-year-old mystery wasn't the worst thing he could be thinking about. "I do have a theory on the lack of newspaper coverage. Jack Wellbourne owned the building where the newspaper was housed back then."

  "You think he had some influence over the newspaper coverage?"

  Braden shrugged. "It's possible. He was their landlord, and he owned a lot of buildings in town. It might have been difficult for them to move or to ignore
him."

  "It always comes back to the Wellbournes," she mused. "Shayla was living in their house, the newspaper was owned by Jack Wellbourne, and these boxes came from the Wellbourne estate."

  "Three for three," he muttered.

  "Exactly."

  "But it's not a good idea to get so focused on one possibility that we overlook everything else," he warned. "We need to keep an open mind."

  "So what do we do next? I've looked through all the boxes. I still need to do a detailed inventory, but nothing jumped out at me. I also don't know what I'm looking for, something valuable, something sentimental, something damaging?" She gave a helpless shrug. "Or maybe whatever the thief wanted, they already got. Who knows?"

  "Well, if the boxes haven't provided any clues, maybe we should look at where they came from."

  "The house on the beach?"

  "Exactly."

  "Isn't it empty? And isn't it also probably locked?"

  "Only one way to find out," he replied.

  "It could be a wild goose chase, Braden."

  "Your favorite kind as I recall."

  She smiled. "True. However, the practical thing to do would be to stay here and take inventory."

  "When did you get so practical?"

  "The day I left here -- fifteen years ago."

  He could see her wrestle with the tug from the past, the same tug he felt. "The boxes aren't going anywhere," he said.

  "Do you really want to go back to the beach?" she asked.

  He could tell by the look in her eyes that her question had more to do with their past than Shayla's. Maybe it was a mistake, but God help him, he did want to see her on the beach again.

  "Okay," she said suddenly, obviously deciding not to wait for his answer. "We'll go to the beach. But first I want to stop by the hospital."

  "Sounds good. I'd like to see your aunt, too."

  "Maybe she'll be able to tell us who assaulted her and then this will also be over," Alexa added.

  "Maybe," he said, feeling a little guilty for not wanting it to be over just yet. He wanted to spend more time with Alexa before she went back to her real life, and before he went back to his life -- whatever that was going to be.

  Chapter Five

  Braden stashed his bike inside the store, and then Alexa drove them both to the hospital. She was acutely conscious of his presence in her compact rental car. She still hadn't quite reconciled the man he was now with the boy she remembered. And Braden wasn't opening up that much. While he was chatty enough about the Wellbournes and Shayla, most of his personal life appeared to be off limits.

  She was dying to find out more about the woman he'd married. What had driven him to marry so young? Was he simply following in his father's footsteps again? His father had asked his mother to marry him after their high school graduation. They'd waited a year to tie the knot, but they still hadn't been out of their teens when they'd said I do. As a child, she'd thought his parents had the most romantic love story. But sadly their story had ended in tragedy.

  Cynically, she wondered if anyone ever lived happily ever after. She certainly hadn't had much experience with long married couples.

  Her aunt had supposedly been happy in her marriage, but her husband had also died young. He'd been a fisherman, and he hadn't made it back from a deadly storm. Her aunt had been single ever since, saying she'd already had the love of her life.

  As her thoughts turned to her aunt, she said a silent prayer for a quick recovery. Phoebe was a strong woman, and she was going to need that strength now to recover fully from her injuries and the trauma she must have suffered when she realized her store was being robbed.

  "Are you thinking about your aunt?" Braden asked.

  She gave him a quick look. "You read my mind."

  "I've had some practice," he said lightly.

  She nodded. There had been a time when they could both read each other's minds, but Braden's thoughts were locked behind a guard wall. Hers apparently were not so difficult to see. "I just want her to be okay," she said.

  "It sounds like she will be."

  "I'll feel better when I see her."

  She turned into the hospital lot and parked the car. Upon arrival, they discovered that Phoebe had been moved out of Intensive Care and into a private room on the third floor. As they exited the elevator, they saw a crowd of people spilling out of the nearby waiting room.

  "Looks like half the town is here," Braden observed.

  Their arrival drew more than a few surprised looks and subsequent murmurs. Alexa wondered if they were shocked she was in town or that she was with Braden. He seemed to be generating some interest, too.

  "Keep walking," he said on a hushed note, hustling her past the waiting room and down the hall.

  "You're not being very friendly," she said.

  "Trust me, if we start talking to those people, we'll never get out." When they reached her aunt's room, he said, "I'll wait out here for you."

  She glanced down the hall, seeing a couple of women looking in their direction. "You'll be a target."

  "I can take it," he said shortly, although he didn't look at all happy about the idea.

  "Why don't you come in with me? I'm sure Aunt Phoebe would love to see you, too."

  "All right. If you don't mind, I think I will."

  She knocked on the partially open door and then pushed it open. She was immediately reassured to see her aunt's eyes open. A nurse was standing by the head of the bed.

  "Shall I come back?" she asked.

  "No, please come in, Alexa," her aunt said, lifting a weak hand to wave her forward.

  "Don't stay too long," the nurse said, as she moved across the room. "She needs to rest."

  Her aunt offered her a tired smile. "Alexa, it's so good to see you."

  "It's even better to see you awake." Her aunt's skin was pale, and her thinning blonde hair seemed more gray than platinum. There was dark bruising around her eyes and nose and a bandage around her head. She looked very small in the bed and not at all like the bustling, energetic woman she was.

  Phoebe's eyes widened as her gaze moved past Alexa. "Braden? Is that you? You're here with Alexa? I can hardly believe it."

  "I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, joining Alexa at the bed.

  "My goodness, it's been a long time since I saw the two of you together. You were just kids then."

  "We were," Braden said.

  "How are you feeling, Aunt Phoebe?" Alexa interrupted, knowing that neither she nor Braden wanted to talk about why they were together.

  "I have a bad headache," Phoebe said with a wince. "But I'll survive. I'm a tough old broad."

  Alexa smiled. Her aunt had always had a strong will. There was no doubt about that. "Did they tell you when you might be able to go home?" she asked.

  "The doctor thinks I should stay a couple of days," Phoebe said with annoyance. "I don't know why. I can sleep at home same as I can sleep here."

  "Well, you need to do what the doctor says."

  "He's young," Phoebe said. "How much could he know?"

  "More than you, Aunt Phoebe. You need to listen to him. I'm taking care of the shop for you, so you don't have to worry about that."

  "Evie told me you were unpacking for me. You don't have to do that, Alexa."

  "I want to. Every new piece is a discovery. It's fun."

  Her aunt let out a weary sigh. "You sound just like me."

  As her aunt's voice drifted away, Alexa debated her options. She wanted to ask some questions, but despite her aunt's confident attitude, she still didn't look well. Then again, they needed some answers, and waiting might only make things worse. "Aunt Phoebe, do you remember what happened when you went to the antique store night before last?"

  "I don't," she said with a sigh. "Everyone keeps asking, and I try to remember, but it's all shadows in my mind."

  "What do you remember?" Braden asked. "Start with how you got there. Did you drive?"

  "I did drive. I parked in bac
k like I always do," she said.

  "So you went in the back door?" Braden continued.

  Her aunt nodded. "Yes."

  "What happened next?" Braden asked.

  Alexa watched as her aunt's brows knit together. She liked the way Braden was taking it slow, one step at a time. And he was so calm, so patient. She could see that his approach was helping her aunt to relax.

  "I put my purse down on the desk in the back room." Her gaze narrowed. "Oh, dear, I bet it's still there."

  "I'll look for it when I go back and I'll bring it to you," Alexa said.

  "Thank you. There's no cash, but I do have my credit cards in it."

  "After you set your purse down, what did you do?" Braden asked, bringing Phoebe back to the subject at hand.

  "I grabbed the first box by the back door and took it into the office."

  "Why did you do that?" Alexa asked. "Why not just unpack in the storeroom?"

  "It was in my way. I couldn't even get into the showroom. So I thought I'd put some of the smaller boxes in the office. I was going to make a nice, orderly stack. I do love things organized. It's so much easier to find everything. Whenever I get a delivery, I have to unpack it right away. It just bothers me so much to have boxes sitting around."

  "Then what?" Braden asked, obviously sensing that her aunt was getting off track.

  "I heard a noise," Phoebe said, looking a little surprised. "I just remembered that. Something broke. It sounded like glass. I stepped into the showroom and I was about to turn on the lights when something bright flashed in my eye. I think I saw the shadow of someone. Maybe he had a flashlight."

  Alexa caught her breath, watching her aunt wrestle with her memory.

  Phoebe's frown grew deeper. "I don't know what happened next. I feel like I might have screamed, but I don't know if that was just in my head." She paused. "Then I woke up here in the hospital. I guess I hit my head on the counter or something." Her aunt's voice rose. "Or did someone hit me? Who would do that?"

  "You don't need to think about that," Alexa said quickly. As much as she wanted information, she didn't want her aunt to stress herself out, and it was clear she was becoming agitated. "We don't need to talk about this anymore."