by Donna Steele
“What the hell?” he finally got out.
She didn’t answer in words, but he could feel her surrender to him in the relaxation of her body against his.
Dusty hazarded a guess. “Uncontrollable horniness?”
“Stay off the damn Internet,” she groused, weakly smacking his chest. Her breathing had calmed.
“Hey, I’m not complaining.” His hold on her tightened. “Are you okay? The baby?”
He felt her shaky chuckle. “Yes, about the baby. I’m a lot better now, too.”
Dusty rolled to the side and snuggled her close. “What was going on?”
“I don’t know. All day it kept growing. The need to touch you, be near you. By the time you got here . . .”
“Yeah, you jumped me. Note, I’m not complaining, but I am curious.”
Dee frowned, apparently concentrating better now that she had relaxed. “To be honest, I am too. Do you remember how I didn’t feel safe unless you were close by when we first got to Braddock’s Crossing?”
“I remember.”
“It was like that, only magnified. If you’d been late tonight, I don’t know what I would have done. The thing is, I don’t know what I’m anxious about, it just overwhelmed me. Maybe if I could identify it . . .”
“Dee, if something like this happens again, call me. I can come home early. I don’t want you getting all stressed out.”
She stretched beside him. “I think I’ve been thoroughly de-stressed for now.”
“I’ll meet you here anytime.” He pulled her close again.
~ ~ ~
With those feelings of dread gone after making such passionate love with her husband, Dee couldn’t recreate the fear, though she suspected her fright had stemmed from something about Dusty, from fearing potential harm would come to him.
What potential harm?
It made no sense.
She knew of nothing to churn up such fright in her. The memory of it faded, vague around the edges, and she couldn’t quite grasp it. No, it made no sense, and he was safe, here in her arms. Nothing else mattered.
There was no need to worry him further.
Chapter 24
At the ping, Dusty glanced over at Dee’s phone. It could be the hospital needing her, and she was in the shower.
No, it was her mother, Meredith, calling.
He’d avoided thinking about Meredith since their evening at the restaurant and the visit with Ben. Dee had made no mention of being in touch with her. Should he answer? For sure, he’d rather take the call than leave it to Dee. She had enough on her mind right now.
The woman hadn’t protected her own daughter from Roger.
Dusty’d never talked to Dee about what Ben had told him. No way could he bring it up with Meredith.
He grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
There was a momentary silence, then, “Dusty?”
“Yes. Meredith? Dee’s in the shower. May I take a message?”
“I haven’t talked to her since we were up there, and I wanted to check on . . . things.”
He could hear traffic and movement in the background. “She’s doing very well. The baby is fine. We’ve had one scan and have another one scheduled for her next checkup. Are you at home?”
“No, I’m shopping.”
“Will Roger not allow you to call her from the house?” Probably shouldn’t ask, but what the hell.
A long silence ensued. For a moment Dusty thought she would hang up rather than answer.
“It’s complicated,” she finally murmured.
“He doesn’t want you communicating with your daughter.” Dusty didn’t bother posing it as a question.
“He’s . . . distressed she made such a monumental life decision without his input.”
Dusty held back the derisive snort, his first inclination. “Meredith, do you really think she needed his input?”
“Would you ask Dee to call me?” Seemed Meredith’s decision was to ignore his query.
“I will, but I have two questions. If you don’t want to answer them, it’s up to you. I’d still like to ask.”
“A-All right.”
“Does Roger hit you?”
Another long pause. “I think I’d like to hear the second question.”
Her avoidance was enough answer for him. At least she hadn’t hung up. Dusty decided to go for broke. “How is Roger’s hand?”
He heard the whoosh of breath leave her. He’d tapped a nerve with that question.
“Do you know what happened?” Meredith seemed anxious even asking the question.
“No. He grabbed Dee, and before I could react and land him on his ass, he’d jerked away. I didn’t get a good look, but his hand appeared red. Maybe even blistering as though from a bad burn. I only checked Dee and there wasn’t a mark on her.”
“That’s what I saw, too.”
“What happened after you left us?”
Again a hesitation, but Meredith answered. Maybe she needed to discuss it. “He had me drive us back to where we were staying. I wanted to take him to the trauma center. He refused to go to Dee’s hospital even though she wasn’t there. The records and so on, you know. We went to the hotel, but after an hour he was in so much pain I took him to one of those 24-hour places. They examined him, put some salve on the blisters and gave him some pain medication, then sent us home. Nothing helped. I drove home the next day—”
“Does he normally not allow you to drive?”
“He prefers driving when we’re together. He was in no condition to drive, anyway. We went straight to his doctor and they did a thorough examination. They kept asking what happened.”
Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “The nerves have been burnt out in his hand. The doctors know of no way to regenerate them. The hand is essentially dead. He can’t play golf any longer.” She paused and added, even lower, “He’s had to learn to sign his name with his left hand. He’s in constant pain though I think the intensity is finally beginning to lessen, and—”
“He can’t hit you with his right hand any longer.” The truth dawned on Dusty, though he hadn’t meant to blurt it out.
“Please.”
Not about to apologize for thinking the worst of the bastard, Dusty managed some sympathy for Meredith. “I was thinking out loud. I’m sorry to hear his injury is so extensive. I have no idea how it could have happened. Especially since Dee suffered no effects at all. I was certain she’d have a bruise, the way he grabbed her.”
He waited for an apology or an excuse. None came. Giving up, he bit back a frustrated sigh. “I’ll ask Dee to call you. Do you have a time best to reach you?”
“I’ll be out for at least an hour getting groceries. Anytime during that hour would be good.”
“I understand. I’ll speak to her as soon as she’s out of the shower.” Dusty paused, debating.
Ah, what the hell. “There is one more thing before we hang up. Do you remember Dee’s appendectomy?”
It was a gamble. Ben couldn’t prove she knew anything.
Her gasp gave her away.
“Dee is pregnant, Meredith. If she hasn’t sent you copies of the scans, I will.”
There was no reply. Again, he waited for a moment, got nothing. Sighing, he murmured, “Have a good day.”
“Y-You too.” Meredith broke the connection and Dusty stared down at the phone.
He had to wonder if Roger would consider trying to get his money back from Dr. Guarino. Dusty was certain the quack didn’t have it any more. It had gone up his nose or in his veins a long time ago.
“Everything okay?” He hadn’t heard Dee enter the room.
“Yes, I think. I was speaking to your mother. She’s free right now and able to talk with yo
u.”
“Free?”
“Not at home. She’s shopping and apparently felt it was safe to try to reach you.”
Dee shook her head, taking the phone he offered. “I never thought about him keeping her from contacting me.”
“Roger’s hand is in bad shape,” Dusty reported before she could dial.
“What?”
“When he grabbed you, remember he acted as though his hand had been burnt.”
“I remember. I thought it was just an excuse to leave.”
“Nope.” He brought her up to date on the information Meredith had given him.
“That makes no sense at all. I would have been injured if there had been an electrical fault or something. Your father mentioned it, but I had no idea the injury was so severe.”
“I was thinking about the buzz we experienced.”
“The buzz was never painful.”
“True, never to us. I never manhandled you in anger or tried to hit you either.”
“What are you saying?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just weird. There was nothing going on to injure him, especially not so badly. It’s like something kept him from injuring you and now possibly your mother in the future. If he can’t use his right hand . . .”
“He can’t hit her with it,” Dee finished for him. “I’m going to call Mom now.”
Chapter 25
Dusty took a deep breath, glanced over at Dee once more, then sent an audio ping. “Mr. Grant? My name is Dustin Williams. My wife and I spent a weekend in Braddock’s Crossing, where we learned of your grandparents, Marcus and Elizabeth Grant. We wondered if you might be available to join us for dinner one of these evenings so we could ask some questions about them. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Closing the connection, he grinned. “Well, I hope he responds. I’d really like to meet him.”
“Me too.” She looked back toward the kitchen. “It’s your night to clean up, I’ve got more studying to do.”
“Glad I never went to medical school. I didn’t realize it never ended.”
“Even before our little excursion, it didn’t. Catching up on a hundred and fifty years’ worth of innovation is taking a while.”
Dusty’s phone pinged. “It’s him.” He quickly accepted the call. “Mr. Grant?”
“Yes. Is this Mr. Williams?” The man possessed a strong, deep voice.
“It is. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”
“Always happy to speak to another Dustin. You say you visited Braddock’s Crossing recently. Are you familiar with the place?”
“A little. My wife and I would love to meet with you and pick your brain.”
The older man chuckled. “Then we better hurry. I’m aging rapidly.”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Might you be available Friday evening? We could meet at The Eclipse.”
“That’s a good place. Seven?”
“Perfect. I’ll make reservations.”
“I look forward to it.” He broke the connection.
Dusty sank back into the couch. “Are we crazy?” he asked Dee.
“Probably. But I’d really like to hear the rest of the story. And what they might have said about us.”
~ ~ ~
Dusty rose as the maitre d’ led an older gentleman to their table. By his looks, this grandson had taken after Elizabeth more than Marcus. Dusty remembered Dee comparing Marcus to a lumberjack in the black cassock he wore in the pulpit. This man was probably five-ten, his back still straight, with snow-white hair. A little gray still mingled in his small, neat beard.
Dusty extended his hand. “Mr. Grant?”
“Mr. Williams.” Dustin Grant had a firm grip. “Why don’t we go with Dusty. I can be Dusty G to keep things straight.”
“I’d like that. This is my wife, Dee.”
“Dee and Dusty?” Mr. Grant’s eyebrow rose as he took her hand. “How apropos.”
“I guess it is, though neither of us had heard of Braddock’s Crossing when we met.” At least those words were true. “Please have a seat. Wine?”
Exchanging pleasantries, none of the awkwardness of strangers meeting seemed to apply. To Dusty’s relief, Dee relaxed more than she had in a while. They should get out more often.
“What brought the two of you to Braddock’s Crossing?” Dusty G asked.
“I recently discovered I have relatives from there and with the baby coming we’re looking into that kind of thing now,” Dusty replied easily. “My couple-of-greats-grandmother was Constance Everett Sutton from Braddock’s Crossing. She was the second wife of William Sutton.”
“Constance . . . Connie? Connie Sutton, I know that name. She was one of my grandmother’s best friends and Grandmother often spoke of her fondly. I don’t remember her myself, though I’m sure I met her when I was quite young. She was part of the Stevens legend, you know.”
“Stevens legend? We did see something . . .”
“They were the biggest thing to ever happen in Braddock’s Crossing. Except for Stevens Battery, and it’s all interconnected. As I said before, your names Dee and Dusty, how apropos.”
“That’s one of the things that drew our attention.” Dusty refilled wine glasses. “Your grandfather was a minister. Did he really think the Stevens couple were . . . angels?”
The older man chuckled. “You took the tour. I don’t know if I’m completely convinced myself, but nothing shook his belief. And according to Grandmother, he was a changed man because of them.”
Settling back for a meal and conversation, Dusty G regaled them with tales his grandmother had shared.
“I read the biography of Silas Jordan recently.” Dusty’s mind returned to his first day teaching in the old one-room schoolhouse. Silas had been quiet, withdrawn, attempting to hide the bruises his alcoholic father administered. He’d been hungry, too. Mrs. Masters took care of that problem, and Dusty managed to get lunch to the boy on a regular basis without humiliating him.
“You make me want to read one about your grandparents,” Dusty said. “Is there anything like that written?”
“No, just the family stories.”
“You should record them,” Dee urged. “This has been fascinating. The interweaving of all those individuals to make such changes.”
“True. My grandchildren aren’t nearly as interested as I was. Recording the stories might be just the thing.”
“I did want to ask a question about Silas,” she said. “I know he was just a child when your grandparents married, and they probably didn’t talk about him a lot, but the biography was vague about how his father died, just that he had a fall.”
“Silas’ father was one man my grandmother thoroughly disliked, and she made no bones about it.” Dusty G grimaced at a memory. “Granddad couldn’t talk her out of it. I haven’t read the biography, though I will now. Seems like Grandma mentioned the man was found in a ditch with his neck broken. There was some talk about foul play, and Silas was the immediate suspect, but he had an ironclad alibi. He’d been over at the doctor’s house, studying. The housekeeper and the cook both vouched for him. He went home and found his mother beaten and bloody. Rushed her back to the doctor, so he didn’t have time to find and kill the man.”
He took a sip of wine. “It wasn’t pursued and labeled an accident. Silas and his mother did much better without him.”
“I had no idea. The book glosses over that part of Silas’ life.”
“My memory’s sketchy about it. I seem to remember his mother moved into the boardinghouse and helped with the women’s shelter.”
“Mrs. Haas,” Dee said slowly.
“You’ve heard of her?”
“We stayed there while we were visiting. There’s a plaque which ta
lks about it being the first shelter.”
“Yes, the town has a lot of firsts and a lot to be proud of. Daniel,” he said suddenly.
Dusty started. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been trying to remember the name. Daniel Sutton, he’s one of the Stevens’ miracles. He’s an ancestor of yours?”
“An uncle. He was born to William’s first wife. What do you mean, miracle?”
Dusty G’s version of the icy water rescue of Daniel Sutton was accurate. If a few details were enhanced, they weren’t going to do any correcting. Dusty took Dee’s hand under the table, listening avidly.
If this could be a way to grow closer to their absent friends, then Dusty wanted to meet with this man again and as often as possible.
Chapter 26
Braddock’s Crossing 1891
Stepping into the classroom, Connie observed the students for a moment. They hadn’t spotted her yet. The place appeared different, brighter somehow than before her surgery. Posters the younger children had drawn decorated the walls. Some showed versions of Dusty’s ideas, others she couldn’t interpret immediately. She hadn’t been here since recovering from Dee’s surgery, removing her appendix.
That had been Dee’s first night in town. Now Dee and Dusty were fixtures here and becoming more highly respected each day.
The students intermingled, boys and girls together, and discussed various topics before the day began. They looked eager, more so than when she had taught them. This was what she’d wanted all along. Their enthusiasm must continue. Dusty had galvanized them. It would be up to her, when she returned full time, to keep his momentum going.
She walked to the front of the room and immediately the noise died down.
“Good morning.”
There were dips of heads and more than one glance between students. Even a few scattered “good mornings” in reply.
