“Why?”
Good question.
I’m going to chase shadows didn’t seem like a good answer, so he kept it simple. “I need to check out a few things.”
She frowned. “What things?”
“You ask an awful lot of questions for someone with a concussion. You know that?”
“You avoid a lot of questions for someone who has nothing to hide.”
“Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, okay?” He walked into the corridor before she could respond, jogging down two flights of stairs and out into the frigid November night. Cold wind bit through his coat and whipped ice into his eyes, nearly blinding him.
Definitely not a night to stand in a parking lot chatting.
He pulled up his hood, used it to shield his eyes as he crossed the nearly empty lot. No sign of the men who’d been there. He stood where they’d been, looked at the building, his gaze drawn to the only lit room on the second floor.
Lights flashed at the far end of the lot, a car engine roaring to life. He watched as the truck crawled toward him. Tinted windows made it impossible to see the driver, but Chance’s skin crawled, his body humming with adrenaline.
Danger.
He jumped back, nearly slipping on the ice.
The truck rolled by, turned onto the road, drove away.
Nothing unusual about someone leaving the hospital.
So why did Chance feel so uneasy?
He walked back into the hospital, jogged up the stairs, knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Rayne called, and he stepped into the room, scowling when he caught sight of her. Somehow, in the few minutes he’d been gone, she’d managed to get rid of the doctor and pull on black slacks.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out how to get a shirtsleeve over this IV.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask why.”
“Then don’t.”
“You’re ornery when you’re hurt, Goldilocks.”
“I’m ornery, period.”
“So, why are you trying to get that sleeve over the IV?”
“I can’t walk outside dressed in a hospital gown.”
“You’re planning to walk outside with an IV?”
“No. I’m planning to go down the hall and ask a nurse to remove the IV. Then I’m going to walk outside.”
“And?”
“Hopefully, hitch a ride back to my apartment with you.”
“What does the doctor think of that plan?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“But I’m sure he mentioned how long he thought you should stay.”
“At least until tomorrow morning, but that’s not working for me. I keep saying I need to be with my daughter, and I mean it.” She shoved her feet into black pumps, clutching a sweater as if she really thought she was going to leave.
“You leaving isn’t working for me.”
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” She looked exhausted, the bruise on her head appearing deeper and more vivid. Another bruise stained her cheek, blue and black the only color on her pale face.
“You need to lie down. You’re pale as paper.”
“I need to see my daughter. I’ve tucked her into bed every night for eight months. She must have wondered where I was tonight. Wondered if I were coming back.”
“My mother is taking good care of her.”
“Your mother isn’t her mother. I am. What if she wakes up tonight crying for me? And what about tomorrow morning when she wakes up and I’m not there?”
“She’ll be—” He was going to say fine, but a tear slipped down Rayne’s cheek.
She brushed it away impatiently, sniffed back more, and all his reasons for convincing her to stay at the hospital suddenly didn’t seem nearly as important as getting her home to Emma.
“I’ll get a nurse to take out the IV. You stay here.”
“Thanks.” She offered a watery smile, and something in his chest shifted, warmed. He ignored it.
It took a half hour to track down the doctor and find a nurse who wasn’t too busy to unhook the IV.
Not a long time, but it seemed like an eternity, the clock ticking while Rayne sat alone in her hospital room.
Alone, and she’d seen someone standing in her room before Chance had found her crumbled on the ground.
Alone, and two men had been lingering in the hospital parking lot.
Alone.
Unprotected.
He jogged the last few yards to the room and walked in.
Rayne sat on the edge of the bed, a telephone pressed to her ear, a scowl etching lines in her pale face.
She met his eyes and frowned. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock?”
“The door was open. Why bother?”
“Because…” She paused, cocking her head to the side and speaking to whomever was on the other end of the phone line. “Yes, someone is here with me, and since you put me on hold… Look, Michael, you called me. I’m sorry the prayer chain gave you the impression that I was on death’s door. I’m not. As a matter of fact, I feel fine.”
“Liar,” Chance mouthed, and Rayne wrinkled her nose and turned away.
“Thank you for your concern. Good night.” She gently set the phone back in the receiver, and Chance had the distinct impression that she would rather have slammed it.
“I take it that wasn’t a friend.”
“My ex-fiancé. My mother called the prayer chain coordinator at my old church and told her I was awake and lucid. Michael just got home from work and got the message. He called to see how I was feeling.”
“At one in the morning?”
“He said he didn’t realize how late it was until he’d already dialed.”
“Who doesn’t know what time it is?”
“Michael. Were you able to find a nurse?” She changed the subject, and he went with it.
“Yes, I had to find the doctor and get him to write the order first. Sorry it took so long.”
“Actually, I dozed off for a while and woke up when the phone rang, so it didn’t seem like that long at all.” She smoothed hair away from her bruised cheek, her hand trembling slightly.
From pain?
Fear?
Fatigue?
The phone call?
“Are you sure you’re up to leaving?”
“I know I’m not up to staying.” She stood and swayed, her eyes closing as she sagged toward him.
He grabbed her waist, his palms pressed against cool cotton and taut muscles.
“Sorry. I think I got up too quickly.” She eased away, and he had the urge to tighten his grip, hold on a little longer.
Not a good direction for his thoughts to be going.
“You’d better sit back down.” His tone was gruffer than he’d intended, but Rayne didn’t seem to notice.
She also didn’t seem to have noticed that he’d told her to sit down.
She crossed the room, and dug through the bag of things his mother had packed and brought to the hospital earlier. He hadn’t looked inside but, knowing his mother, it contained everything Rayne would need for a month-long stay.
“Did you pack all this?” Rayne asked, pulling out a blue shirt, her hands still shaking.
She definitely needed to sit down.
“My mother did. Now how about you do what I suggested and sit before you fall?”
“I’m not going to fall.” But she sat anyway, dropping into a chair so quickly he wondered if her legs had gone out from under her.
He grabbed a pitcher of water from the table near the bed and poured some into a paper cup. “Here, drink this.”
“I’d rather not.”
“And I’d rather not watch you pass out.”
“Would you rather watch me lose my lunch?”
“That bad, huh?” He grabbed a paper towel from the bathroom, wetted it and pressed it against the back of her neck. Silky curls fell across his knuckles, and he caught the muted scent of flowers and rai
n drifting from her hair. A breath of spring amid the antiseptic smells that lingered in the hospital.
“I’ll be okay. I just need some fresh air.”
If her pallor was any indication, she needed more than fresh air, but before Chance could say as much, a nurse bustled into the room, eyeing Rayne with the same concern Chance felt.
“I hear you’ve decided to leave us,” the nurse said, and Rayne nodded.
“I have to get home to my daughter.”
“How will you care for your daughter if you can’t care for yourself?”
“I’ll—”
“My mother will help out,” Chance cut in. Arguing wasn’t going to do any of them any good. Rayne had made up her mind. The best thing they could do was move things along so he could get her home where she could rest—and where he could keep her safe.
The nurse took out the IV, and Chance walked out into the hall, waiting there while Rayne changed.
Definitely a long day working its way into a long night, and he wasn’t even sure why he was at the hospital waiting for Rayne. She’d made plenty of friends since she’d moved to Spokane. He could have called any one of them. He hadn’t.
“All right. We’re ready.” The nurse wheeled Rayne into the hall, and Chance followed them down to the lobby and out into the early-morning darkness. Beyond the portico, the pavement glistened with ice, the winter storm still howling.
Why had Rayne left a meeting with a client and driven to the airport on such a terrible night?
He drove his SUV to the portico, helped Rayne into the passenger seat.
“We have a twenty-minute ride ahead of us. Why don’t you rest for a while?”
She didn’t respond, just leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the bruises on her face dark and angry-looking.
He pulled out onto the highway, ice turning to snow as he crawled along the slick road and into the hills of Green Bluff. Within minutes, white powder covered the road and the thick evergreens that lined it. The world lay silent and still, everyone and everything taking cover from the weather.
The dirt road that led to the farm and orchards where he’d grown up curved around barren fields. He passed the cottage he’d been living in since he’d left the army. Passed the matching cottage that his mother’s only farmhand used.
The farmhouse stood a quarter mile away, the porch light burning brightly the same way it had every night of Chance’s childhood.
Home.
That’s what it felt like. As a kid, he’d dreamed of big cities and exciting people. He’d wanted the thrill that came with new places and new faces. Working as an army chaplain had given him an opportunity to experience those things. For ten years, he’d served God, served his country, served his own desire to explore the world.
Now…
What?
He was backtracking, finding the easy pace of small-town life more fulfilling than he’d imagined it could be. Finding that serving God could be done just as easily at home as it could far away and finding it way too easy to forget the mistakes of the past and embrace something new.
He frowned, glancing at Rayne as he pulled into his mother’s driveway.
He wasn’t embracing anything. He was helping out a coworker, bringing a young mother home safe to her daughter, doing the kind of thing he’d done dozens of times over the years.
He was helping. Then he was going home and getting a few hours of sleep before the sun came up and another day began. He had a client to meet with in the morning. A fence to fix at the edge of the orchards. A to-do list half a mile long.
Rayne was just one more thing on that list.
Get her home safe.
That’s all he’d needed to do.
He’d done it.
Mission accomplished.
Somehow, though, as he opened the door and rounded the SUV, he had a feeling there was going to be a whole lot more to keeping Rayne safe than simply getting her home.
THREE
“Rayne?” Someone nudged her shoulder, and Rayne pushed the hand away, wanting to sink back into dreams and away from the throbbing pain in her head.
“Go away.” She didn’t open her eyes. No sense doing that, seeing as how she had no intention of moving. Every breath, every heartbeat brought more pain, and she had no desire to see what would happen if she actually did more.
“Come on, Goldilocks, are you really going to make me carry you?” The words were muttered against her ear as she was scooped up, pressed close to a hard chest.
Goldilocks?
Not Michael, then. He only ever called her Rayne. No sweetie or darling or honey. Just Rayne.
“I can walk,” she mumbled, but she didn’t want to walk, didn’t want to even open her eyes.
“Sure you can.” Not a stranger’s voice, and she tried to grasp a memory, hold on to it long enough to remember where she’d heard it.
Cold wind stung her cheeks, and she shivered as the world shifted and moved beneath her. A door opened, warmth replaced cold, and she knew she should open her eyes, look around, see where she was. Instead, she let her head rest against solid warmth, let herself drift away again.
“Chance! You scared twenty years off my life!” A female voice pulled her from darkness, and she opened her eyes, saw nothing but thick black leather. A coat. Chance’s coat. Images flashed through her mind. Blue-gray eyes and a hard, handsome face. New memories, not the missing ones, but at least she had them.
She just needed to turn her head, and she’d see the woman who’d spoken, but Rayne wasn’t sure moving was a good idea. Her stomach churned, bile rising up as Chance shifted his grip.
“Sorry, Mom. Rayne insisted on leaving the hospital and coming back to take care of Emma.”
“She’s a good mother. I wouldn’t have expected anything less. How is she doing?”
“Probably about as good as she looks.”
About as good as she looked?
She must look horrible.
“Just so you know, I’m awake, and I can hear every word you’re saying. If you plan on going into excruciating details about how terrible I look, I’d rather you not.” She managed to lift her head, and met the eyes of a sixty-something woman with salt-and-pepper curls and a barely lined face.
“You’re beautiful, bruises and all, my dear. Put her on the couch, Chance. It’s warmer than the back bedroom.”
“You mean the room I spent eighteen years of my life in?”
“Your father and I offered to let you sleep upstairs when you were five, but you were afraid the bogeyman would get you.”
“Yeah, and by the time I was a teenager, I liked the idea of ground-floor windows.”
“If we’d known that, we’d probably have insisted that you take one of the rooms in the upstairs apartment.”
“That’s exactly why you didn’t know.” Chance carried Rayne into a dark living room and set her on a couch that faced an oversize stone fireplace.
“Thanks. Next time, I’ll carry you,” she said, and he smiled, his face softening, his eyes warm in the darkness.
“I’m not sure we’d both survive that. You’re kind of puny.”
“Puny? I’m strong as an ox.”
“But much prettier,” he said, and then frowned, backing away, letting his mother move in to cover Rayne with a blanket.
“How are you feeling, dear?”
“I’m okay.”
“Thank the Lord. I was worried sick when you didn’t come home after work. You’ve never been late before.”
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Please, don’t apologize. I’m just glad I knew enough to be worried. Another couple of hours in that ditch, and you could have frozen to… Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. You’re going to be okay, and that’s all that matters.” She patted Rayne’s hand, the motherly gesture reminding Rayne of all the things she’d left behind in Arizona.
“In case you’re wondering, Rayne, this is my mother, Lila Richardson.”
&nb
sp; “You’re introducing me as if I haven’t been her landlord for a couple of months.” Lila laughed, apparently not realizing how serious the situation was.
Nearly two months in Washington.
Not even one memory.
“She has partial amnesia, Mom. She doesn’t remember anything after she left Arizona.”
Lila’s amusement slipped away, and she patted Rayne’s hand again. “I’m so sorry, Rayne. I didn’t mean to make light of things. Tell you what, I’ll bring you some tea. That should help you relax and sleep.”
“I’d like to see Emma first.” She sat up, ignoring the pain and dizziness that followed. She couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t sleep until she saw Emma, made sure she was okay. No matter how well she might have known Lila before the accident, Rayne knew nothing about her now. The nurse’s words had been comforting, but something niggled at Rayne’s mind every time she thought of her daughter. Fear. She knew the feeling, had felt it the day she’d had a gun pointed at her head, but she shouldn’t be feeling it now, sitting in a cozy living room.
She needed to see Emma.
Needed to hold her.
Need to make sure that her fears were unfounded, that her daughter really was safe.
“She’s in the guest room. Chance, why don’t you bring her out here? That way Rayne won’t have to get up.”
“I’m not sure waking a baby up at two in the morning is a good idea,” Chance said, not moving.
He was right, of course.
It didn’t make sense to pull Emma out of bed, but Rayne was going to see her. She stood, all the blood draining from her head.
“Careful.” Chance eased her back down onto the sofa, and she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.
“It won’t hurt Emma to see her mommy, and I know you’ll sleep better once you’ve seen her,” Lila said. “Don’t put anymore mother guilt on her, Chance. She’s been through enough without adding that into the mix. You go get the baby while I make the tea. Rayne, you just stay right where you are and let us take care of you.”
Let them take care of her?
Wasn’t that breaking rule number one?
Rayne was certain it was, but she did exactly what Lila said.
Sat.
Right there on the couch. Waiting for other people to take care of her and her daughter. Mother guilt?
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