Long Gone Lonesome Blues

by Maggie Shayne

  Penny shook her head, then reached up to take Kirsten’s hand in hers, moving it slowly away from her cheek. “It’s obvious we were…close,” she said.

  “Closer than sisters. Oh, Penny, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Then help me. If you know what’s been kept from me, please, Kirsten, please tell me. I need to know.”

  Lowering her head, Kirsten sighed deeply, brokenly. She backed away from Penny and sank into a chair, and Ben could see clear through her polish now. She was shaken. Trapped. Scared. Suddenly she was the same awkward, insecure girl she’d been when they were all kids.

  “God, just how sick was I?” Penny asked.

  “I’ll tell you,” Ben said softly. “Penny…God help me, I wanted to wait. I wanted you to see Doc first, because…you just look so damned healthy and I can’t help but wish—”

  “Ben, it’s impossible. You know that. Don’t do it to yourself.” Adam came to stand beside his brother, one hand on his shoulder.

  Ben met Adam’s eyes. “Leave us alone, will you?”

  Adam nodded, turning to Kirsten. “This doesn’t let you off the hook. I still want answers, Kirsten.”

  “You aren’t getting any.” She held Penny’s confused, frightened eyes, never even glancing at Adam. “When you’re ready, Penny, I’ll tell you all of it. But only you. No one else.”

  “Then you do know what really happened,” Adam accused her.

  She looked at him, then lowered her head and moved away, grabbing up her bag and fishing something from it. A small card, which she laid on the table. “My number,” she told Penny. “Call me when you want to talk.”

  Penny nodded mutely, and then Kirsten turned to walk out the door. Adam cussed under his breath, then followed, muttering that he had to drive her back to the estate. He said the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Ben’s heart felt as if it had turned sour when Penny looked up at him, all her questions in her eyes.

  “Kirsten knew I didn’t die in that accident,” she said softly.

  Ben nodded. “It looks that way. I can’t believe she kept it from us. She was like family, back then.” He closed his eyes. “I could choke her for this.”

  “Maybe she had a good reason,” Penny said, “but she was still surprised to see me alive.”

  Ben drew a deep breath, and it felt as if there was a sharp blade piercing his chest. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  He moved closer to her, reached up to run one hand through her silken hair. “You were real sick, Penny. For a long time. We knew about your condition before we were married.”

  She stepped back a little so she could search his face. “What kind of…condition?”

  He gripped her shoulders in gentle hands. “It’s called Hillman-Waite Syndrome. It’s a degenerative disease.”

  “Degenerative.” She repeated the word, and he could see her mind working through it before she met his eyes again. “But treatable?”

  Ben felt his throat tighten. “No. The symptoms worsen slowly, leaving you more and more helpless, until at the end you just slip into a coma and never wake up.”

  She paled, right before his eyes, and he could feel the shudder that worked through her. “Are you saying…Ben, are you telling me I was dying?” She pulled free of him, pushing her hands through her hair, shaking her head. “Then…if there’s no treatment, no cure for this thing– My God. My God.”

  He reached for her, wanting to pull her into his arms and hold her, make it better for her somehow, even though he knew nothing could. But she was stiff, standing where she was, refusing to come closer. “I survived the coma…I made my way back here…only to find out….” She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead. “No. This isn’t true, this can’t be true.”

  “I wish it was me instead of you Penny. I’d do anything to take this away.”

  She stared up at him, horror in her eyes. And then she just sank to the floor, shaking violently as tears flooded her face. She lowered her head into her hands, shoulders bowing forward, sobs racking her.

  Ben was beside her in a heartbeat, scooping her up into his arms and cradling her there. And she didn’t fight him this time. She curled against him like a frightened child. Her face pressed to the crook of his neck, her tears wetting his skin. “Dammit, Penny, I’m sorry.” He carried her across the living room, up the stairs and into her bedroom. But he didn’t put her down. Instead he sat on the bed, still holding her, and he lowered his head to kiss her hair.

  She sniffled, and tipped her head up, red-rimmed eyes searching his. And then she lifted her hand, and she touched his cheek. “You’re crying,” she whispered.

  He pressed his lips together and swallowed hard.

  “You really did love me, didn’t you?” she asked him, blinking away tears that were quickly replaced by fresh ones.

  “I still do.”

  “I want to remember.” Sobs made her draw gasping, unsteady breaths that broke her words into fragments. But she parted her lips slightly, and leaned up to press them to his.

  Trembling as much as she was, Ben kissed her deeply, but tenderly. And her taste was so familiar that his heart swelled. He felt it would burst with the bittersweet emotions—overwhelming joy at having her in his arms again, and crippling grief so intense he could barely breathe.

  And when he lifted his mouth away from hers to stare into her eyes, she whispered, “Hold me, Ben. Make it like it was.”

  He hadn’t thought he could hurt any more. He’d never been more wrong.

  Chapter 8

  It was heaven and hell at once when Penny wrapped her arms around him, held him as if she would never let go, kissed him in a way he hadn’t been kissed since the day he’d lost her. The way he’d dreamed of so often these past two lonely years.

  But he couldn’t deny her. He knew the crippling pain she was feeling right then, because he felt it, too. And like Penny, he wanted to remember. He wanted to make love to her and make the rest of this nightmare disappear. He wanted to hold her again, like before.

  He turned to lay her down, gently on the bed, and with his eyes he asked if she was sure, and without a word she told him she was. She reached up with trembling hands to unbutton his shirt. And when she pushed it open, her palms slid across his chest, and he closed his eyes in agonizing pleasure.

  The shirt slid from his shoulders, and he bent over her to reciprocate. He peeled her blouse away, and tossed it to the floor, and freed her of the bra she wore, throwing that aside, as well. And then he looked at her, lying there in nothing more than a pair of Chelsea’s jeans. And her breasts were as small and round and perfect as he remembered. He closed his hands over their warmth, and Penny closed her wet eyes.

  His mouth watered for her. He lay down on the bed beside her, and kissed her mouth again, and then he slid lower to kiss her body. Her breasts were warm and salty against his lips, and their peaks stiffened on his tongue. She arched her back as he suckled her, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she held him close to her.

  He flattened one palm to her belly, and slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans. She reached between them to caress the swollen hardness beneath his. Ben stopped breathing. “I want you,” he whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this….”

  “I have, too…only…I could never remember when I woke. But I wanted to remember, Ben.”

  He freed the button and zipper of her jeans so he could slide his hand deeper. And when he found the soft moistness between her legs, he touched her there, the way she liked. Her hips arched, pressing her against his hand, and she sighed deep and raggedly.

  He kissed her, pulled her body tight to his and worked her jeans lower. And somehow she managed to undress him, as well. And then he was lowering himself over her, slipping inside her. Feeling as if he’d come home after a long, long journey, he moved deeper into her body. She wrapped her legs around his and held him there, lying still, opening her eyes and staring up into his. And for just a mom
ent he thought he saw the old Penny there. The look of love, shining from her eyes just the way it had done before.

  Then she closed her eyes, and the look was gone. But the feeling remained. He moved inside her, and she moved with him, and it was as if they’d never been apart. He knew every sound she made, every breath that shuddered out of her. He knew when she climaxed, because she held him tighter, pressed him more deeply into her, and because she whispered his name in that same broken way she always had. And he lost himself to sensation when he joined her in ecstasy.

  And then he cradled her close, and kissed her face, and whispered that everything was going to be okay. He only wished it wasn’t a lie.

  She didn’t know why she’d reacted the way she had. Fear was certainly a part of it. Coupled perhaps with a desire to cling to her life, whatever it had been, for as long as she could. Because it might end, all too soon.

  Whatever, she knew one thing. She didn’t regret it. Ben had made her feel more alive than she had since waking from that coma, and there was no way she could regret that. Her feelings were all mixed up. Intense sorrow and devastation warred inside her with a stubborn urge toward denial. All of it wrapped up in a soft, newborn glow as fragile as a firefly’s tail. Newborn, yes. But old, too. Like a soul beginning its next incarnation, her feelings for Ben were born again inside her. Fresh and new, but drawing somehow from the old ones she couldn’t recall.

  And there was something else. Some sense that turning to Ben Brand when disaster hit her in the face was something as natural to her as breathing.

  So much was going on in her mind. She couldn’t believe she’d suspected him of trying to rid himself of her by faking her death and shipping her off. He wouldn’t have done that. First because he’d have had no reason to, knowing she was dying anyway. And second because he’d obviously loved her—adored her—once, a long time ago.

  He said he still did.

  She closed her eyes and nestled closer to him in the little bed, and his arms tightened around her. He said he still did, but of course he couldn’t possibly, could he? He didn’t even know her now.

  And maybe he never would. Maybe there wouldn’t be time.

  “It’s so odd,” she said. “I feel so good, except for the headaches. I just don’t understand how I can be…” She didn’t say the last word. Dying. She didn’t even want to think it. So instead she sat up slightly, staring down at him. He’d long since dried away her tears with his kisses. She vowed she wouldn’t shed any more. She had far too little time to waste it on crying.

  “What kind of shape was I in before that accident? Physically, I mean?”

  Ben closed his eyes. “Bad,” he told her, and she thought from the lines of tension at the corners of his eyes that he must be remembering. “You couldn’t walk through the house without becoming breathless and dizzy. You’d stopped riding. Stopped going out, even. You had to lie down a lot, take naps during the day.” He opened his eyes, studied her face, and the tension eased. “Nothing like you are now.”

  “Was I in pain?”

  He winced visibly. “It was pretty bad. Doc medicated you as much as he could, and that just made you even more tired all the time.”

  She nodded, searching her mind for the memory of all of this, but not finding it. “I don’t feel tired at all now. And there’s no pain.” She tilted her head. “But you said it was a degenerative condition.”

  “Yeah. The coma…the coma was supposed to be the final stage of the illness.”

  A tiny tongue of fire leaped to life in her breast. “Is there…is there any chance it was?”

  He studied her, and she could see him trying not to let himself hope too much. “Doc said there was no cure for HWS, Penny.”

  She drew a breath, then let it out all at once. Closing her eyes, she lay back down. “Then…this disease is still inside me.”

  “We’d be fools to think otherwise,” he said softly. “But we can’t bet on anything until you see Doc.” Ben rolled up onto his side, cupping her face in his hands. “Whatever time we have, Penny, we’ll be together. We’ll make the most of it. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, take you anywhere you want to go—’’

  “I don’t want to go anywhere,” she told him. “I want to be here. I want to remember.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “I know.” He leaned closer, brushing her lips with his.

  The knock at the door made her go stiff, but Ben didn’t even flinch. He just called, “Wait a minute,” and got out of bed, pulling on his clothes. Then he glanced down at her, and gently tucked the covers around her.

  She felt like crawling underneath them to hide from this cruel new reality she was being forced to face. She wanted Ben here with her. He could make her forget.

  Ben opened the door then, and she heard Garrett’s voice, though he spoke so softly she had to strain to catch his words. “Need to talk to you, Ben,” he said, and he sounded grim. “Alone.”

  Frowning, Penny changed her mind about crawling under the covers. What was this? More secrets? Lord, this family seemed to have more than its share of them!

  Ben glanced back toward Penny, then stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Penny scrambled out of the bed, yanking on the robe that hung over the back of the chair. She tiptoed to the door and listened by pressing her ear to the wood, but only muffled tones made their way through. Damned old-fashioned builders and their love of hardwoods and high quality! She glanced around, spied a water glass on the bedside stand, chugged its contents so fast her belly ached. Then she put the glass to the door and her ear to the glass.

  Ah, better.

  “Why the cloak-and-dagger routine, Garrett?” Ben was asking.

  She wondered why it relieved her to hear something that seemed to indicate this round of “I’ve got a secret” wasn’t Ben’s idea.

  “Adam told me what happened,” Garrett said. “I figure Penny has more than enough to deal with right now. How is she taking it?”

  “How do you think?”

  There was a deep sigh. Then Garrett asked, “How ‘bout you, Ben?”

  “I feel like I’ve been gut-shot and left in the desert. But she’s with me, so I don’t want to leave. Does that make any sense at all?”

  Penny’s eyes welled up when he said that. She blinked her tears away and tried to focus on the conversation instead of on her state of health and on her emotions. She could picture Garrett’s worried gaze moving over his brother’s face, picture him shaking his head in sorrow.

  “I figured there was no sense scaring her when she was going through so much.”

  Penny’s heart tripped and stuttered. Scaring her?

  “Scaring her?” Ben asked.

  “Ben, I think we got trouble. I had a call today from Matt Bauer, over at the El Paso Rangers’ Station. He said there was some fella there lookin’ for Penny.”

  Penny’s throat went dry. Ask for a description, she thought desperately.

  “What sort of fella?” Ben asked.

  “Midforties, balding, lean. Spoke with a British accent.”

  Dr. Barlow! Penny’s heart raced faster.

  “Ben, this guy had a photo of Penny. Claimed she was his wife.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Ben snapped. But then he was quiet for a long moment.

  “That’s what Matt thought, too. He said the guy refused to say where he was staying, or even fill out a missing-persons report on her. Took off as soon as Matt started asking questions. Thing is, Ben, I tried to check on this Barlow Hospice in London, where Penny said she’d been, and on the doctor she mentioned by the same name. Both seem to have vanished from the face of the earth.”

  “How’s that?” Ben asked.

  “The building is empty. Barlow sold it to a real-estate agency for half what it was worth and disappeared, along with whatever patients might have been in his care. No one can find any records…there’s just nothing.”

  Penny drew a sharp breath.
Gone? The clinic and the doctor? Just gone?

  “What about former employees?” Ben asked.

  “The ones they can locate don’t know a thing. They showed up for work one day, and the place was locked up and empty. None of them have a clue of anything shady going on there, Ben, but I gotta tell you, it sounds fishy to me. I mean, I know Penny is suspicious of little girls selling cookies, but I think this time she just might be onto something.”

  She heard movement. Pacing. She thought it was Ben. Then it stopped. “You said the employees they can locate….”

  “Yeah,” Garrett said. “There are a handful who’ve vanished along with the doc. And then there’s one they did find, but she isn’t talking. The nurse, Michele Kudrow—the one Penny stole the credit card from—she was found in her apartment.”

  “Found?” Ben asked. Then, more softly, he asked, “Dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Murder?”

  “Suicide.”

  There was a long pause.

  Suicide, my eye, Penny thought. Michele knew too much! Then she blinked slowly. Come to think of it, she might know too much, too. She just didn’t remember. But what if she did? Or what if Dr. Barlow thought she might?

  God, what was that man hiding?

  “We’re gonna have to find this Barlow, Garrett. I don’t care what it takes. Whoever is responsible for costing me two years with my wife is going to pay. I should have been with her, coma or no coma. I should have been there. Someone robbed me of that. And I can hardly stand to speculate on the reasons why, what the hell his motives for keeping Penny there in secret might have been. I want that bastard to look me right in the eyes and tell me, Garrett. And then I want to see him pay for what he’s done.”

  Penny closed her eyes, awed again by the force of the emotions the man still held for her. It was overwhelming to know he cared that much. She wanted to know those answers just as much as he did. And there were two people who might be able to provide them, Kirsten and Dr. Barlow.