by Beverly Long
He drove aggressively and did not see any trace of his SUV when he pulled into the parking lot of the bus depot. He parked, got out and hurried inside, this time leaving his crutches in the car. They were too recognizable. His ankle was feeling pretty strong. He stood at the entrance, scoped out the interior, identified a seat where she was unlikely to see him and then bought a newspaper for good measure. Low-tech surveillance. Sit in plain sight with a newspaper in front of your face.
It was six and a half minutes later that Laura and Hannah walked through the door. Hannah had Ja-Ja under one arm and the other hand was in Laura’s. Laura had eyes only for the customer service windows.
He watched as they approached a window, then as Laura opened her purse and pulled out cash. His heart was pounding in his chest. What the hell was he going to do? He had never, ever chased after a woman. Especially not after one who so clearly said, via her actions, that whatever they’d had, it simply wasn’t enough.
She’d left without even a goodbye let alone an explanation.
He drew in a deep breath and pulled the paper in front of his face. Sometimes a man had to listen to the silence.
Chapter 15
Laura felt sick and hoped she wouldn’t throw up on the bus. She’d gotten her and Hannah’s tickets and the bus would board in ten minutes and leave in twenty. She directed Hannah to seats in the bus depot where she could see the doors.
She felt as if her heart had been racing since the moment she’d left Rico behind in the waiting room. It hadn’t helped that Peter had decided to walk out with her. And then the idiot had spilled some coffee in the elevator. Laura, worried that somebody might slip on it, had pulled tissue from her purse and helped to clean it up.
She’d had some crazy suspicion that he might have timed his exit to coincide with hers because he wanted to talk to her, maybe wanted to say something bad about Rico. But when the elevator door opened, it seemed like he couldn’t wait to get away from her. And she hadn’t wasted any time, either, getting herself and Hannah into Rico’s SUV as quickly as possible.
Having had the experience of being followed by Rico without her knowledge, she kept checking her mirrors the entire way. And once she’d pulled into the parking lot, had sat an extra two minutes in the vehicle before opening her door, just to make sure that nobody made the turn into the lot.
But there had been no one. Rico had no reason to believe that she wasn’t doing exactly what she’d said—running an errand. But he would ultimately realize her deceit. That was undoubtedly the cause of her stomach discomfort. She’d lied, once again, and he was going to know it. Would have no reason to believe that she wasn’t really truly just one big liar. Would never know that the last several days had been...wonderful.
“I have to go potty,” Hannah said, interrupting her thoughts.
She glanced at her watch. They had time before the bus would load. The restrooms were in the back. She stood and reached for Hannah’s hand.
Hannah was finished and washing her hands when the woman next to them at the sinks got chatty.
“Your little girl is very cute,” she said.
“Thank you,” Laura said.
“I’m not her little girl,” Hannah said, very matter-of-fact.
Laura kept a smile on her face. The woman grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands, looking at Laura with speculation in her eyes.
“It’s a stage,” Laura said. “Thank goodness we have the same chin,” she added.
“You do,” the woman agreed. Then she smiled. “I had two boys. The older one told the younger one he was adopted when he was about that age and for the next fifteen years, that kid insisted he was. Told everybody we met.”
Laura reached for the door, wanting to get Hannah out of there before the little girl could ask any questions or make any statements that would have the woman contacting the police. But her heart felt heavier than ever. She was going to have to figure out their story and then figure out a way to get Hannah to buy into it so that there weren’t any missteps.
She led the little girl back through the waiting area. Checked the status of their bus on the display board. “Time to get on the bus,” she said.
“Where are we going?” Hannah asked.
“Salt Lake City.” Then they would catch another bus until they reached California.
“Will we see Rico again?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t think so,” Laura said, her throat tight. She opened the door and the cold winter air hit her lungs.
“I liked Rico,” Hannah said.
Laura didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She’d liked Rico very much. Maybe even...no, that was crazy.
She just desperately needed to get out of Colorado. Needed to get some perspective.
She stepped onto the bus, with Hannah close behind her. There were no assigned seats but the agent had told her that she shouldn’t have any trouble getting two seats together, that the bus was generally not full. She handed the driver both tickets, then turned toward the aisle that ran down the middle of the bus.
She took two steps, then stopped so fast that Hannah ran into her.
“Hey,” said the little girl.
“Hey,” Laura echoed. But she wasn’t talking to Hannah. She was talking to the man in front of her.
“Hey, yourself,” Rico said. He was in seat Six A. He had his arms folded across his chest and looked rather formidable. But then he leaned forward so that he could see Hannah behind Laura’s legs. “How’s it going?” he asked, his tone softer.
Hannah squeezed past Laura, whose feet appeared to be stuck to the floor. “Rico,” the little girl shouted. She hugged him. “Laura said we weren’t going to see you again.”
“I guess that just proves that Laura doesn’t know everything, doesn’t it?”
“Nobody knows everything,” Hannah said, her tone solemn.
She knew nothing. Didn’t know why he was there. Didn’t know what she was going to do about it.
Didn’t know what she was going to do about her heart that was beating much too fast in her chest.
But she was going to have to do something because there were other people attempting to get on the bus and she and Hannah were blocking the aisle. She stepped into the seats in row five. Hannah, proving to be quite the traitor, sat in the empty seat next to Rico.
“How did you find me?” Laura asked.
“I saw you talking to the woman at the information desk at the hospital. Saw her print something for you. After you left, waited a minute then pretended that I was your husband and that you’d spilled coffee on what she’d printed. She gave me another copy.”
It was smart. She had to respect that. But it made her feel stupid. “So you knew. At the hospital. That I was leaving. And you said nothing.” She was spewing but it scared her that once again she’d come up short. How did she ever think she was going to pull this whole thing off if she couldn’t manage to slip out of town?
“You knew. At the hospital. And said nothing. Just left.” He was mimicking her cadence.
“It wasn’t easy,” she protested.
“Easy-peasy,” Hannah said.
“Not easy-peasy,” she whispered. She felt very close to tears.
Maybe he sensed it because she could see him take two deep breaths. When he spoke, his voice was kinder, much less sharp. “Can you tell me why you’re leaving, Laura?”
“It’s complicated.”
He smiled. “I’m pretty good at figuring things out.”
“Even when there aren’t any good answers?” she asked.
“I’m willing to give it my best shot.”
What was he saying? As wonderful as that sounded, she couldn’t accept his help. “That would likely not be in your best interest.”
“How about you let me be the judge of that.”
For him to judge fairly,
she’d have to tell him all of it. Every single dirty bit. “Not something we can do here.” She looked at her watch. “Especially since I think this bus is about to pull out in about two minutes.”
“I think we’ll have about five hours before we stop,” he said. “Should give us plenty of time.”
“This is crazy,” she said. “Your dad is recovering from open-heart surgery. There is no way you should be riding on this bus. Going someplace you had no intention of going to.”
“Then come with me,” he said. “Come back.”
Hannah, who’d been chattering to Ja-Ja and looking out the window, turned her head. “Back to the cabin, Rico?”
Neither adult responded.
The bus driver walked down the aisle, doing a physical count of the passengers.
She’d be taking a terrible risk telling Rico the truth. He could turn her in to the police. She would lose Hannah. Lose everything.
She would be asking him to risk everything to help her.
The bus driver passed by her on his return trip to the front. He was taking his seat. Putting the bus into gear. Checking his mirrors. Easing forward.
Rico’s dark eyes were intense. Steady.
“Stop,” she yelled. “Stop the bus. We’re getting off.”
* * *
Rico wasted no time getting up.
“Hannah can’t be here for this,” she said in his ear as they piled off the bus. “And where the hell are your crutches?”
“In the car. I’m fine,” he said. Hell, better than fine. Happy.
That he’d caught her. That he’d convinced her to let him in on the secret. Was smart enough to know that it might fade quickly once he heard what she had to say but for right now, she was close enough to touch. And that made him happy.
“We’ve got two cars here,” she said as they walked to the parking lot.
“Yeah. I suggest you and Hannah take my SUV back to the hospital. I’ll follow you and return the keys to my sister. Then—” he paused, glancing at Hannah “—perhaps we can negotiate an hour of babysitting time from Charro in exchange for me helping Peter with the job hunt. Would that work for you?”
She nodded.
“By the way, did he say anything to you when the two of you walked out together?”
“No. But he spilled his coffee in the elevator and I had to help him clean it up.”
He shook his head. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“That’s what being a nice guy gets you. A job offer to your brother-in-law and...this. What did you tell them when you left the hospital to come after me?”
“Didn’t tell my mom much of anything. I suspect she’ll grill Charro when she sees her and Charro will tell her everything. It will drive both of them a little crazy that something is happening but they aren’t quite sure what. However, neither one of them is likely to tell my dad—they won’t want to worry him.”
“They’ve got to be wondering about me. Suddenly popping up in your life, almost leaving, coming back. Probably thinking the snow isn’t the only flake around here.”
He smiled. “Beautiful flake.”
She rolled her eyes. They were at his SUV. She opened the rear door for Hannah and the little girl crawled in. She bent to buckle her in then backed out of the car. When she straightened up, he leaned close, crowding her against the vehicle. “I’m glad you got off the bus, Laura.”
“I hope you don’t regret it soon, Rico,” she said. She was very serious.
He glanced in the car, made sure that Hannah was occupied with Ja-Ja, then bent his head and kissed her.
Gently. When he lifted his head, her eyes were closed. She opened them slowly.
“I’m not going to regret it, Laura. I’m confident of that. Now drive safely but let’s get this show on the road.”
Fifteen minutes later, when they walked into the waiting room, his sister and mother were conferring quietly. He was pretty sure they were talking about him because when they saw him with Laura and Hannah, both of their faces colored with heat.
“How’s Dad?” he asked.
“Sleeping,” his mom said. “Get your errands run, Laura?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. Glad you and Hannah got back safe.”
He thought Laura caught the meaning and he felt her relax a little. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Hey, I was wondering if we could leave Hannah here for an hour or so with the two of you. Laura and I...need a little time.”
Charro, who could be a pretty good big sister when she wanted to, immediately patted the seat next to her. “Sit right here, Hannah. I’ve been hoping I could get a closer look at Ja-Ja and you could tell me about her favorite things.”
“Well, she likes movies,” Hannah said, already walking toward her.
“Excellent.” Charro looked up and waved her fingers in his and Laura’s direction.
He could sense a reluctance on Laura’s part to leave, and he gently pushed her out of the room. “She’ll be fine. Charro is really good with kids—it’s the only reason Nathan and Aleja turned out so well.”
“Peter doesn’t get the credit?” Laura murmured as they walked down the hall.
“Please. Charro gets extra credit because she had to overcompensate for him. Where do you want to talk?” he asked. “Hospital cafeteria?”
She shook her head. “Too much risk of being overheard. Can we just sit in your SUV?”
“Sure. But let’s get a coffee for you and a tea for me to take with us. It will be a little chilly out there.”
They swung by the cafeteria and got their drinks. Laura carried them. When they got to his vehicle, he stowed his crutches in the back and sat behind the wheel. She took the passenger seat.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said.
“Just start.” He wanted to remind her to be honest but kept his mouth shut. He wouldn’t insult her like that.
“Some of what I’ve told you has been the truth. I was born and raised in Indiana. I moved to Tennessee several years ago and lived in Memphis. I live in Nashville, Tennessee, right now. My name is Laura. Laura Collins.”
Finally, he had a last name.
“I mentioned that I had an older brother, Joe Collins, and that he died recently. What I failed to mention is that my brother and I...were estranged. Six years ago, our parents were in a multi-vehicle crash. A large truck hit them, sending them careening into several other vehicles. Both were severely injured.”
She turned her head away from him. Looked out the window.
“What happened?” he asked finally.
“They were alive when the ambulance got to the hospital. By the time my brother and I arrived several hours later, the news was very grim. Neither had regained consciousness and both were breathing with the assistance of a ventilator.”
He reached for her hand. She turned back to him. There were tears in her eyes. “It was a very bad time, Rico. A very bad time.”
He could hardly imagine. He stroked her hand with his thumb.
“I was their power of attorney for health care. I remember, quite distinctly, the conversation that I had with my parents when they told me that. They said that they thought I’d be comfortable in that role because of my medical background.” She stopped. “I’m a physical therapist.”
“Physical therapist,” he repeated. She was just full of surprises. Made it a whole lot easier to understand her response that first night when he’d shown her his scar and described his injury. She hadn’t asked many questions. Probably knew more about the type of injury than he did. Maybe had worked with patients who had a fracture of the lateral process of the talus.
“Yes. And you’re doing amazingly well for three weeks post-surgery, by the way.”
“Five weeks,” he said. “I shaved off a couple because I wa
nted you to think I was more impaired than I was. Sorry about that.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “I don’t have any room to play the injured party here. Anyway, my parents were confident that I’d be able to make the decisions that needed to be made. They were insistent that if something should happen and there was no hope that they could once again have a quality life, that they didn’t want any extraordinary measures taken.”
“I’m sure that was very tough on you,” he said. But he certainly understood her parents’ wishes. Wanted the same for himself.
“I had assumed that they’d told Joe that they’d given me their health care power of attorney. But he claimed he didn’t know. I tried. Those first few days in the hospital, I tried so damn hard to help him understand the realities of what we were dealing with. Reminded him of Mom and Dad and how they’d lived, so vibrantly, and how they would have hated to be lying in a bed, a machine breathing for them. He said we needed to give them more time. That he’d heard stories of people waking up after months.”
“Did the doctors think that was a possibility?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Anyway, after some truly horrible conversations with Joe, I went forward with what I knew their wishes to be and my brother left the hospital and I never saw him again.”
“Not at the funeral?”
“No. He didn’t come.”
She’d carried a hell of a load. But knew she’d protest if he told her that.
“I tried,” she said. “Months after the funeral, I reached out, thinking that enough time might have passed. But he wouldn’t answer my calls, wouldn’t return my messages. And after a while, I gave up.”
“Probably what most everyone would have done,” he said.
“Well, I always thought that someday we’d find our way past it. But that wasn’t to be. He died this past January.”
And that had added to her already heavy load.
“I didn’t know about his death until May. I came home from work and there was a letter and a check in my mailbox. It was from an insurance company. Evidently, he’d had a small policy through his work and I was the beneficiary. He’d been at the same job for years so I’m assuming it got set up way back and he never thought to change it.”
