Reyn's Redemption

by Beth Cornelison

  Chapter Ten

  “Gram?” Reyn didn’t wait for a response before hustling into his grandmother’s room. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Breathless from running in from the parking lot and taking the stairs three at a time, he dropped in the chair beside her bed and carefully took her frail hand in his.

  “My goodness, you got here fast.” She chuckled. “They teach you that speed at the firemen’s academy?”

  He wrinkled his brow, puzzled by her mood change. Had this been a false alarm?

  “You sounded upset on the phone. Said it was important, so I rushed.”

  “Where’s Olivia?” Gram glanced toward the door as if expecting her friend to appear.

  “She has class tonight, Gram. That’s where we were headed when you called.”

  “We? Are you two a we now?” Gram’s eyes twinkled with affection. A pang of regret twisted inside him. Just one more way he was going to have to let his grandmother down.

  “No, there’s no we. I just meant I was going to ride with her to class. I wanted to make sure she was safe.”

  Gram pressed fingers, knotted with arthritis, to her lips. “Oh my. And I pulled you away from that. Didn’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all right. I don’t think she really wanted me tagging along anyway.” He rubbed his free hand on his khaki pants. “Gram, on the phone you sounded upset. You said it was important that you see me right away. What’s wrong?”

  Her grip on his other hand tightened. “Oh. Right. It’s about your mother. I remembered something she said to me before she died.”

  “Go on,” he said warily. His heart beat faster, and he held his breath, not sure he wanted to hear what Gram had to say.

  Gram’s eyes met his, their blue as clear and vibrant as he’d ever seen them. “I never connected it with her death before, ’cause up ’til a few weeks ago, I believed her death was just bad luck. One of life’s tragedies.”

  The directness of her gaze caused a self-conscious prickle on his neck. Had she blamed him like the rest of the town?

  “So I’d almost forgotten the conversation I had with Claire about two weeks before—” she paused to take a deep breath, “—before the fire.”

  “What was the conversation about?” A raspy quality darkened his voice.

  “Your father.”

  Her answer kicked him in the chest with a force that stole his breath, knocked him back in his chair. He shook his head. “But she didn’t know who my father was. She put unknown on my birth certificate, and—”

  Gram’s short burst of laughter startled him, and he frowned.

  “Didn’t know? Boy, did you think she was asleep when you were conceived? Of course she knew who he was.”

  “I just thought maybe he was a one-night stand, or one of several men who—”

  “You’ve been listening to the town gossips, haven’t you?” Gram scowled. “You should know better than that. Your mother made a mistake, a youthful error in judgment. One time. That’s all she’d tell me.”

  Reyn mulled this bit of information for a moment before leaning forward and shaking his head. “Why—” His voice cracked, so he started again. “Why did he have to be a secret?”

  Gram shrugged. “You know how the gossips are. Mostly she was protecting you. I thought maybe she was protecting your father from scandal, too, until they could be together. Several boys from Clairmont went off to college ’bout that time. Maybe she didn’t want to keep him from getting his education ’cause of obligation to her.” Gram looked away for a minute before turning back to face him. “And maybe it was loyalty to her best friend that kept her from saying.”

  Gram gave him a pointed look that sent chills down his spine. His mother’s best friend? Hannah Russell? He remembered Lou saying that his mother had dated George Russell in high school. Was it possible that George Russell was his father?

  Gram gathered herself and sighed. “I just don’t know, dear. She never would tell me, though I asked enough times. I finally learned to leave it be. All we did was fight over that subject.”

  “So what was it she said right before she died?” Reyn forced the question from a dry throat.

  “She was ready to tell you about him. Ready to give you at least a name. She said you deserved a father, and she was tired of waiting for him to claim you.”

  Stunned disbelief rocked him, and he shook his head. “She never said anything to me.”

  “I guess she didn’t get the chance. Besides, she was going to tell him of her decision first. She wanted him to come clean to his family. I guess she was going to force his hand on the issue.”

  Reyn’s mind raced forward. “You’re saying she was going to confront my father? Do you think he could have killed her to keep his identity a secret?”

  A pit of black apprehension settled in his stomach.

  “It would sure answer a lot of questions. Motive for one.”

  He nodded numbly. Could his father have killed his mother? The idea was staggering. Chilling. Sickening.

  The taste of bile rose in his throat, and he forced it back down with a deep gulp of air.

  “Reyn, darling, are you all right?”

  “My father,” he mumbled, trying to wrap his brain around the concept. The man who’d never claimed him.

  “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to upset you this way, but I thought you had a right to know. I thought…that it might help find the person responsible for killing Claire.”

  “Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s more to go on than we’ve had. But without knowing who he is—”

  “Hannah might know. If anyone will know, if Claire told anybody her secret, I think it would be Hannah. They were close right up until Claire passed.”

  Reyn nodded slowly. Hannah. Maybe he should have started with Hannah days ago. Then again, maybe he’d been avoiding Hannah, knowing his mother’s friend might tell him truths he didn’t want to hear. He’d thought he could get answers about his mother’s death through cold facts in documentation. But the people who’d known his mother, loved and laughed with her, held the keys to his past. Memories that could rip his heart out.

  Remembering the beautiful, vital woman who’d taught him to love and to embrace life was more than he thought he could endure. He’d let that woman down, let her die.

  You and me, Reyn. We’re a team. We gotta take care of each other. He saw his mother’s smile as she kissed him goodnight, heard her singing “You and Me Against the World”, imagined her warm hand ruffling his hair.

  God, he missed her. He squeezed his eyes shut, despair knifing through him. He should have done more to save her. He should have protected her better. He shouldn’t have been hiding in the woods when the fire started. Coward.

  “Reyn?”

  His hand was trembling he realized, and he jerked it away from Gram’s grasp.

  “What’s wrong, darling? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She reached for him, patted his knee.

  “I have. I’ve been seeing ghosts all week.” He sighed and stood up to pace. “Being back here, re-living everything that happened back then…” He drew a shaky breath and faced Gram.

  “I understand that. After all, you lived through so much pain here. Being back is bound to stir up those memories.” Her eyes glowed with a warmth that reached out to him. “It’s no wonder you’ve been scared to come back before now.”

  Reyn’s breath caught. He stared at Gram, uncertain what to say, what to make of her assessment. Her tone was matter-of-fact. Non-judgmental. Full of understanding.

  “You…knew?”

  “Of course I knew. You had every right to be afraid, considering how this town treated you, considering the bad things that happened to you here.”

  “But I owed you better than that. I let my bad memories get in the way of my responsibility to you. I left you alone here because I was running from my past. I was a coward.” He fisted his hands in frustration and self-di
sgust. “I let you down.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t be more proud of you and all you’ve made of yourself. My grandson the fireman.”

  He scoffed. “But that’s not who I am. Firefighting is my job. It’s just something I do. What matters is the way I hurt the people I care about. You. Mom. Liz.”

  “Liz? Your old girlfriend? What does all this have to do with Liz?” Gram’s gaze followed him as he paced.

  “She wanted to get married. I panicked and…I ran. I dumped her. Broke her heart. Hurt her.”

  “Why?” His grandmother’s incisive blue eyes cut into him.

  He turned up his palms then let them drop. “I don’t know. ’Cause I’m a coward and a jerk. ’Cause I didn’t think I could make her happy long term. I knew that somehow, some way, down the line I’d fail her, despite my best intentions. Just like with mom and you.”

  “You were right,” Gram said softly, and her bluntness startled him a bit. She motioned for him to come closer. With his shoulders back and swallowing a knot in his throat, he stepped over to the side of her bed. She curled her fingers around his hand. “We all fail the people we love at some point, Reyn. We live and learn. We make mistakes and try again. Then we kiss and make up. It’s the human experience.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gram, I—”

  “Love is hard work, Reyn. Raising a child, making a marriage work, surviving the hard times life throws in our path. It’s all scary stuff. Lord knows it scares the beans outta me!”

  He gave his grandmother a wan smile.

  She caught his hand and pulled him closer to meet his gaze squarely. Her eyes darkened to the color of steel. “Real courage comes from doing the things that scare us most. It takes a lot of courage to give someone your whole heart and soul. But until you let yourself love someone that deeply, you won’t know real joy either. Your mother loved you that much, James Reynold. And so do I. Don’t you ever think you let us down.”

  His breath hung in his lungs. Gram’s gaze pierced the dark corners of his heart. He wanted to believe her, wanted to accept the hope and love reflected in her face.

  But the demon still whispered to him. You didn’t even try to save her. You ran away. Coward.

  “Thanks, Gram. I hear what you’re saying, but it’s not as simple as that for me. I’ve done things all my life that hurt people. Things that I can’t change. That’s unforgivable.”

  Gram cocked her head on the pillow. “By whom? Seems to me you’re the only one who can’t forgive you.”

  “I haven’t earned the right to forgive myself.”

  Before Gram could respond, a nurse bustled into the room with a tiny paper cup in her hand. “Evening, Mrs. Erikson. Are you ready for your pain medicine?”

  “I think so. I’m rather tired and ready to sleep.”

  Reyn took the hint and backed away from Gram’s bed, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

  “Do you want a sleeping pill?” the nurse asked.

  “No, no, I think I’ll sleep just fine tonight.” Gram swallowed the pills the nurse handed her then glanced at Reyn. “Now my grandson is another matter. I think I’ve given him a whole lot to think about.”

  In other words, her look said, don’t dismiss what I’ve said so easily.

  Reyn nodded. “Yes, ma’am. A whole lot to think about.”

  He kissed Gram on the cheek and backed silently out of the room. The rain that had threatened as he drove over poured down in fat drops, and he dashed for his truck. The rain matched his mood and gave him an excuse to hole up at Gram’s house and brood.

  By the time Olivia’s lab class dismissed, the storm had arrived in full force, remnants of a hurricane from the Gulf of Mexico with the potential for flooding. Rain came down in sheets, and the wind pushed her lightweight car all over the road as she maneuvered down the dark, rural highways toward home. Already fatigued by stress and lack of sleep, the treacherous driving conditions stretched her nerves taut.

  While lightning flickered in the night sky, the worry in Lila’s voice when she’d called filtered through her mind. A shiver that had nothing to do with the damp chill in the air crawled up her spine.

  Olivia sighed. Had the killer tried to hurt Lila? The thought made her sick to her stomach. Should she convince Reyn to drop the investigation before someone got hurt? Katy. Lila. Reyn. She couldn’t stand it if something happened to the people she cared about. But how could they walk away when they’d come this far? They couldn’t let the killer get away.

  Let the sheriff handle it. No. She’d never been a quitter, and she wouldn’t give up now. They were so close to figuring this whole puzzle out. Her gut told her they were on the brink of making the pieces fit. For what felt like the millionth time, she rolled the facts over, wondering what she’d missed.

  When she grew frustrated with her circular thoughts, she tried to distract herself by singing the hymns they’d rehearsed Sunday at church. Her windshield fogged over, and she reached for her glove box to get a leftover napkin. A cold drip plopped on her arm. Flipping on the interior light, she discovered that her cracked windshield leaked steady droplets of rain onto her passenger-side floor. With a groan of disgust, she fumbled for the napkin, then wiped her windshield, grumbling. “Broken windshield, broken de-fogger, broken radio. Might as well walk.”

  When singing hymns lost its effect as a distraction from brooding thoughts, Olivia focused on the lab work she’d done tonight. But, as he frequently did, Reyn invaded her mind.

  She and Reyn had reached a precarious point, not only in the inquiry into his mother’s death, but also in their relationship. Her intuition said they were a breath away from a breakthrough. The friendship they were forming was nice, but the attraction between them couldn’t be denied much longer. She sensed his tension and hunger like a vibration between them.

  But would the breaking point drive him away or into her arms? Would he leave, fleeing from her and the phantoms she seemed to stir in him? Or would he finally open up to her and give into the desires that hummed in the air when they were together? And what would she do if he never returned the affection she felt?

  She’d grown deeply attached to him in the past several days, despite her intentions. But since when had her heart ever listened to her head? She was dangerously close to falling in love with a man who refused to share his innermost self with her, a man who made it clear he didn’t want an emotional involvement, a man who showed no interest in commitment or family. But how could she not care when at every turn he showed her kindness and integrity and intelligence? And why couldn’t he see those things in himself? His hurting soul called to her, louder every day. She knew she could help heal him if he’d give her the chance.

  She passed the turn off to the Russells’ farm then crossed the bridge over Clairmont Creek. A flash of lightning showed her the creek, normally an easy meandering stream, was swollen and coursing with the runoff from the hard rain. Flash flooding was a possibility every Louisiana driver knew to be wary of in weather like this. As flat as the state’s terrain was, rain accumulated quickly in the ditches and could flood the roads in a matter of minutes.

  Olivia glanced in her rearview mirror and discovered another car had turned onto the road and moved up close behind her. She flipped her rearview mirror to the nighttime angle to cut the glare of the other car’s headlights. Before she could return her hand to the steering wheel, the car zoomed up and rammed her back bumper.

  With a startled gasp, she grabbed the wheel, fighting to steady her car, which fishtailed wildly from the impact on the wet road.

  “You idiot!” she fussed, watching in her mirror the crazy driver who still tailgated her. Gritting her teeth and squeezing the steering wheel, Olivia pumped her brakes, hoping the impatient driver would pass. For a moment it appeared that he would. She watched the car pull into the lane for oncoming traffic and move up beside her. Once more she slowed to let the car go by. But rather than pass, the light-colored sedan sideswip
ed her, nearly forcing her off the road.

  A bubble of fear swelled inside her. The maniac had intentionally hit her! Like lightning, understanding struck her with a terrifying jolt. The other driver wanted to run her off the road, wanted her to wreck. Wanted her dead.

  Again the sedan slammed into the side of her Chevette. Her wheels lost traction, sending her car careening toward the ditch. Horror washed through her in a powerful wave. She jerked her steering wheel hard to the right and regained control of the skidding car.

  Her body shook, but she concentrated on her driving. Tried to anticipate the other driver’s next move. She considered stopping at the side of the road. But stopping would leave her vulnerable to the madman should he come after her on foot.

  Tasting the metallic twang of blood on her tongue, she realized she’d bitten her lip when she was rammed. Swallowing hard, she fought the rise of nausea and fear in her throat and braced to defend herself from the killer.

  With the next blow to the side of her car, she turned her steering wheel to the left to counteract the force of the impact. She heard the other car’s tires squeal.

  Just a little farther. She was almost home.

  But in a snap decision, Olivia drove past the turn to her house. No way would she lead this danger back to Katy and Hank. Besides, if she stopped at the house, she’d be just as vulnerable as if she pulled over at the side of the road. She had to keep going and pray that the lunatic would give up. Or lose control of his own car with his wild driving.

  She was on her own. Alone. Trying to outrun a killer.

  The dark, deserted highway stretched before her. Her headlights glowed feebly in the curling fog and curtain of rain.

  When the sedan pulled alongside her again, she tensed, waiting for the next blow. Her chest squeezed as they raced past the turn-off to Lila’s. A short distance down that road, Reyn waited for word of her safe return.

  Reyn. God, she wished he were with her now. But even if he were, what could he do? Other than die with her, if and when the maniac finally drove her off the highway and into a tree.