Anytime Darlin'

by Julia Rachel Barrett

  Mary claimed that was the Devlin she remembered—the exuberant, intelligent, mischievous little girl who kept Mary’s brothers enthralled with her wild antics, and all the adults on edge, wondering what she’d get into next. That was the Devlin Jake ached to know, not this shadow-girl who’d lost all desire to live. Jake shook his head, confused by his feelings. It was odd to care so much about a complete stranger, but he felt somehow connected to her and fiercely protective of her. Above all, he wanted life to return to her eyes. He wanted her to have a reason to live. Even if he had to make one up for her, especially now, with what Mary told him about the accident and what he’d learned two days ago from Mike.

  Mary ruffled his hair, interrupting his thoughts.

  “You look like shit,” she said, affection in her voice. “You need some sleep.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Holding her own. No worse, maybe a little better.”

  “She loses any more weight, she’s going to disappear.”

  Mary laid her hand on his shoulder. “Actually, it’s you I’m worried about right now.” She paused. “You don’t even know her, Jake. Look at you. You’ve barely slept. You haven’t eaten. You need to go home, shower and shave, and get a good night’s sleep. Honestly Jake, I don’t understand why you are doing this to yourself.”

  Jake looked up at Mary, the misery he felt etching lines around his eyes, straining his attempt at a smile.

  “I don’t understand either, darlin’,” he sighed. “I have no clue what this is about. All I know is that I need to stay. Whatever happens to her, I need to be here.”

  “My mother gets in this afternoon. She’s coming straight to the hospital. I want you to promise me that when she gets here, you’ll go home for a few hours. Promise me,” insisted Mary.

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it. I promise I’ll think about it.” He stood up and stretched his long body. “I’m gonna get a cup of coffee. Want anything?”

  “No, thanks,” answered Mary. “I need to order a few more tests. I’m encouraged by the results of her blood work this morning. I think I’m going to decrease the sedation. I’d like to see if she’ll come around so we can start to wean her off the ventilator. I do not want her trached again.”

  Grabbing some coffee in the cafeteria, Jake was surprised to find Mike sitting at a table with the teacher, Beth Ellis. He flipped a chair around and sat down facing them, leaning over the back of the chair, elbows resting on the table distractedly.

  “Well you look like shit,” said Mike affably.

  “Thanks. You’re the second person who’s told me that in the past twenty minutes.” He nodded politely to Beth. “What are you two doing here? Don’t you-all work?”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “It’s Sunday.”

  “Goddamn.” Jake had definitely lost track of time. “So why are you here on Sunday?”

  “Beth wanted to come by and see how Devlin’s doing,” Mike answered. “And I wanted to see if I could drag you out of here.”

  From beneath lowered eyes, Jake glanced from his friend to Beth Ellis. This was an unexpected development. He took a closer look at Miss Ellis. She was slender and softly feminine, not Mike’s usual buxom, in-your-face type. But she had warm brown eyes, a sensitive, expressive mouth, and lovely cheekbones. His friend could definitely do worse. Jake just barely managed to conceal a grin as a very serious Beth laid a tentative hand on his arm.

  “How is she?”

  “Holding on, just barely.”

  “I want to be here for her. She doesn’t have any family now, and the poor girl doesn’t even know it.”

  “It’s tough.” Mike pushed his coffee cup aside, slipping an arm around Beth’s shoulders.

  “Any word on the uncle?” asked Jake, anger simmering beneath the simple question.

  “Last I heard, the FBI traced him to Singapore. Looks like he hopped a flight to Bangkok. He can disappear for a long time over there. At least he can try.”

  “Can they track the money? Is he accessing his accounts?” asked Jake.

  Mike stroked his chin thoughtfully. “He liquidated everything. Took his clients’ money, his accounts, savings, stocks, everything. Looks like he set up some sort of dummy corporation, kept the money offshore. The FBI was able to freeze a couple of the accounts, but I don’t know. I’m guessing he has some stashed that they don’t know about.”

  “Did he touch any of Devlin’s money?”

  “No, he can’t. It’s all in a trust, held in an account for her by an attorney in Iowa. She gets it when she turns eighteen. According to Shauna, from what the lawyer said, Franz tried last year, tried every way he could to get control of the assets, but her grandparents had built in some protections. They didn’t trust the guy. In fact, I’d venture to say they hated him. When they died, the aunt got a one-time lump sum of twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s it. Devlin got the rest, all the life insurance, all accounts, the farm, her parents’ home in Grinnell—it’s all hers.”

  “I doubt she has any idea,” commented Beth. “Who’s making arrangements for her aunt’s body?”

  “Dr. Workman’s mother,” answered Jake. “She’ll be cremated, then flown back to Iowa and buried with her family.”

  “What a mess, huh?” sighed Mike.

  “Yeah, what a mess,” agreed Jake, wondering, as he had for the past two days, how the news would affect Devlin. He was afraid her aunt’s murder might be the last straw. How much could one young girl be expected to handle?

  “Mike,” Jake began as a thought occurred to him, “what caused the accident, the accident that killed her family?”

  “I’m not sure. Mary indicated that Devlin’s grandfather lost control of his van at high speed.”

  “Has Shauna looked into it yet? Five people died. There must have been an investigation.”

  “And you want to know because you’re thinking that, if everyone had died, the aunt, or rather, the uncle, would have gotten his hand on both estates,” finished Mike. “I imagine she’s checking. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Why now?” Jake blurted out. “Why’d he kill her now?”

  “It was my fault,” Beth cried. “It was because I went to the house asking about Devlin, after she’d missed several days of school. I checked with the attendance office. Nobody had called in. I was worried. Her uncle answered the door. He said she was sick and slammed it in my face. He must have panicked and thought I’d call Child Protective Services again, so he killed her.” Beth buried her face in Mike’s jacket.

  “No, that isn’t it. You had nothing to do with it. I can’t discuss the details, but I can tell you for a fact that he didn’t kill his wife because you came by looking for Devlin.” Mike wrapped his arm around her.

  “Can you at least tell me when she died?” asked Jake.

  “The coroner thinks it was the day we brought Devlin in, sometime in the late morning, early afternoon,” Mike answered. “We still don’t know exactly when Devlin left the house.”

  Jake looked puzzled. “My question stands. Why then? Why kill her then? Did he find out Devlin was here? How would that be possible? Devlin certainly wasn’t talking. Did her aunt try to go to the police to report her missing? Did he panic? I don’t get it.”

  Mike gave his friend a sharp look. “I don’t know. If they catch the son of a bitch, we’ll find out. Or when Devlin can talk, maybe she can shed some light on the situation. Until then, we don’t have much to go on.”

  “I thought Devlin kept quiet to protect herself,” said Jake. “But now I’m thinking maybe she kept quiet to protect her aunt.” He pushed his coffee cup aside and stood up. “Later.”

  Mike ran his thumb absently around the rim of his cup. “You may be right. Damn, you may be exactly right.”

  * * * *

  Jake was long gone before her mother appeared in the living room, looking her usual sophisticated self. By that time, Janice was sobbing incoherently. Though Bitsy Matheson wasn’t known for being particu
larly affectionate, she actually handed Janice a box of tissues and sat down in a chair across from her. She waited for Janice to speak, twisting the big diamond ring on her finger with impatience. Like a good girl, Janice told her everything. Bitsy sighed.

  “Well, you know what you have to do, don’t you?”

  “What?” choked out Janice. “Jake’s not going to marry me, and I refuse to discuss this with Jim Peters!”

  “Of course not,” said Bitsy. “Don’t be silly. You’ll have an abortion. It’s the only thing you can do.”

  “But I don’t, I mean, I haven’t even thought…” stuttered Janice.

  “That’s always been your problem, Janice. You don’t think. You just act. I’ll call John Duarte. I’m sure he’ll be able to fit you in today or tomorrow.”

  “What if I don’t want an abortion?” Janice flared, suddenly defiant.

  “Janice,” said her mother calmly, her voice almost sugary, “be reasonable. If you have a baby now, your father will never be able to hold his head up in this town again. It would ruin him. You wouldn’t want to do that, would you?” She paused. “His little darling? Pregnant? Out of wedlock? That would just about break his heart. Think of someone besides yourself for once. You’ve already disappointed him so deeply. How can you even think of doing it again?”

  Janice felt hot tears on her cheeks, tears of shame and embarrassment, the same tears she’d shed as a child when she’d disappointed her parents. Starting with the disappointment of being born a girl instead of the hoped-for son and heir. All the fight went out of her.

  “I’ll tell you what,” her mother said conspiratorially. “We don’t even have to tell him. We can take care of this little problem ourselves, just us girls. Your father never has to know a thing.” She drew a finger across her lips. “Maybe we can go to the club for a late lunch after, if you’re feeling up to it,” she added.

  Janice nodded.

  “Now that’s settled.” Her mother seemed to dismiss the entire situation from her mind. “How is it that Mr. McKenna brought you home?”

  Janice had wondered how her mother did it, this ability she had to ruthlessly compartmentalize everything. Whatever didn’t fit into her neat world simply vanished into the ether. Janice envied her mother’s capacity to dismiss the world’s imperfections so easily. She wished, not for the first time in her life, that her mother could dismiss Janice’s imperfections as easily as she did everything else that didn’t suit her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

  “What did you ask?”

  “Mr. McKenna,” repeated her mother, “why did he bring you here if you’re no longer together?”

  “Oh, he felt sorry for me, I guess.”

  “Does he know?” her mother asked.

  “No, he doesn’t know. He was just concerned because of the breakup. And we had a tough night. We both stayed late to help out a runaway.”

  “Oh?” Her mother seemed interested. Janice was surprised. Her mother never took much of an interest in her work.

  “Yes,” Janice replied, eager for the opportunity to have an actual conversation with her mother. “The paramedics brought in a teenage girl. She was in pretty bad shape. She had pneumonia and she was, well, she’d been beaten and raped.”

  “Really?” Her mother raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say. I certainly hope it wasn’t a local girl.”

  “I have no idea,” said Janice. “We didn’t get a name. Well, just a first name, but it wasn’t a name I recognized.”

  “What was it, dear?”

  Janice looked at her mother in surprise. “What was what?”

  “The name,” said her mother, “not that it matters.” She shrugged. “These runaways must be a dime a dozen.”

  “Oh. I guess it won’t hurt to tell you. It’s just a first name. She said Devlin. That’s all I know.” Janice noticed her mother stare off in the distance for a second, then blink, just once.

  “Well, dear,” said her mother, rising from her chair, “I’d better make those arrangements. Why don’t you have Cook make you a cup of tea? I sent Louise to freshen up your old room if you want to lie down.” She patted Janice’s knee perfunctorily. “I’ll let you know what time John can see us. And don’t worry about your father. He’s in London at a conference.”

  Dr. Duarte saw Janice the next morning. She came home and went directly to bed, the promised late lunch forgotten. Here she’d stayed. She hadn’t seen her mother since she drove her home from the appointment, although she’d heard her call for Louise a short time ago.

  Janice couldn’t bring herself to get out of the bed in her old bedroom, in her parents’ home. She’d lain there for two days. Somehow she had thought having an abortion would be easier than it was. She hadn’t wanted a baby in the first place. She just wanted Jake. Now she’d lost him and, in fact, lost anything that could possibly bind her to him. But as her mother kept insisting, what choice did she have? It wasn’t Jake’s baby, and she didn’t want to marry Jim Peters, even if he would consider it.

  Jake hadn’t said a word in the car after they’d left the restaurant. Other than the hum of the engine, there had been complete silence. What was there to say, Janice asked. No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, her relationship with Jake was over. The truth was as plain as the nose on her face.

  He’d been kind. That was the worst part. He’d parked her car in the long drive, helped her climb out, then escorted her to the front of the house and used her keys to unlock the front door. He seated her in the living room, kissed her on the cheek, and asked the housekeeper, Louise, to let her mother know that she was there. Then he turned away and left, closing the heavy door without a sound.

  Janice doubted she could show her face in the ER ever again. She’d already requested two weeks of sick leave. She knew Jake wouldn’t say anything, no matter what he suspected, but to have to see him constantly? She didn’t think she could handle that. Maybe she’d transfer back up to ICU. And go to days. Because her father was a big deal at the hospital, Janet assumed it would be easy to get on day shift.

  Janice turned over to face the wall. In her mind, she saw Jake with the girl, that runaway, the way he protected her, how he treated her like she was made of spun glass. Why didn’t he treat her like that? Sick, she thought to herself. She’s only a teenager. What’s the big deal about a stupid runaway? They came into the ER all the time, a dime a dozen. That’s what her mom had said. A dime a dozen. Janice barely even remembered why she and her mother were talking about it.

  There was a knock on Janice’s door, and her mother entered the room. She seemed perturbed.

  “Janice, your father is coming home this evening, and I don’t want him to see you like this. Get up, dear, and make yourself presentable. Better yet, why not return to your own house? We wouldn’t want him to wonder what’s wrong now, would we? I’m certain you’ll feel much better in your own place.”

  Janice continued to stare at the wall.

  “I’ve got to go out, darling, but I know you’ll be just fine. Come over for dinner next Friday. We’ll have roast chicken, your favorite. I’ll have your father call tomorrow. Pull yourself together, dear.”

  Just like that, Janice was dismissed. She was twenty-six years old. She should be used to it by now. But she wasn’t. Jake had been her hope. When she was with him, she felt like a different person, pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, sexy enough, good enough. But he cared more about a teenage runaway in a hospital bed. Now she was just Janice Matheson, the daughter born by mistake, the child who should have been aborted.

  * * * *

  Two days later, Jake got a call from Mary that Devlin was awake and breathing on her own. The central line had been pulled, and her white count was approaching normal. Mary’s mother, Delores, had arrived and taken things in hand, greeting Jake with a lecture about his own health before shoving him out of his chair, sending him home for a shower and a good night’s sleep. Jake had to agree with her. After crashing for
twelve straight hours, he felt back in control.

  The first thing he did when he woke up was contact his supervisor and request a leave of absence. He had some time coming anyway. The plan was always to head back to Montana in the spring, help with calving, and then return to Missoula and the Bob Marshall Range and his new job.

  He didn’t exactly know how things would play out with Devlin, but over the past few days, he’d come up with a plan. If nothing else, he figured she’d need a place to heal, and he couldn’t think of any place better or safer or more beautiful than his family’s ranch. He could keep a close eye on her, his mom and dad would care for her as if she were their own, and in a place as isolated as the Crazies, a stranger like William Franz would stick out like a sore thumb. Let him come. That was Jake’s territory, and he’d be goddamned if Franz would get anywhere near the ranch or Devlin. He just had to get Devlin through the next few weeks. Jake had no illusions. The next few weeks would be hell.

  Mike had asked, “What’s the deal? Why are you taking this so personally?”

  Jake had no answer for him. He didn’t know himself. That was the only answer her could give Mike. He wasn’t obsessed with Devlin, at least not in the way it seemed. Jake didn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression, but he felt something for her. Something he couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe it was the haunted look he’d seen in her eyes when he leaned over her gurney. Maybe it was that her life had nearly been stolen from her, not once but twice. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to trust him. He doubted she’d trusted anyone in over a year. Jake sensed that, after this, she was going to need a reason to live. He intended to make sure she found one. In any case, Jake figured the least he could do was offer Devlin a safe haven for as long as she needed one. He’d stay with her these next few weeks, help her get things settled, get her up to the ranch, and get on with his life.