скачать книгу бесплатно
Death Benefits
Hannah Alexander
An exotic Hawaiian vacation was what Ginger Carpenter had planned. What she got was a tropical nightmare! An escaped murderer was on the trail of her two foster nieces once more.To protect them, she had to rely on Dr. Ray Clyde–the man she had never wanted to see again. Ginger hadn't been able to forgive Ray's interference with her vocation as a missionary. Now, with danger lurking behind every palm tree, she'd have to find a way to forget the past to make sure they'd all have a future….
“We need to get a few things straight, Ray Clyde.” Ginger kept her voice low.
“What is it we need to get straight?” Ray asked.
“These two little girls are precious to me,” she said quietly. “They don’t need to be used as pawns so you can try to make amends with me.”
There was a slight hesitation, then, “You know better.” His voice chided but remained gentle, maybe a little sad. “Let’s be honest with one another for a moment. You feel you need to place some distance between the two of us on this trip, and so you must make sure I don’t bond with Lucy or Brittany.”
“You have a problem with that?” she asked.
“I do. A considerable amount as a matter of fact.”
Ginger shifted in her seat. No one else had quite the same knack of rendering her speechless like he did.
HANNAH ALEXANDER
is the pseudonym of husband-and-wife writing team Cheryl and Mel Hodde (pronounced Hoddee). When they first met, Mel had just begun his new job as an E.R. doctor in Cheryl’s hometown, and Cheryl was working on a novel. Cheryl’s matchmaking pastor set them up on an unexpected blind date at a local restaurant. Surprised by the sneak attack, Cheryl blurted the first thing that occurred to her, “You’re a doctor? Could you help me paralyze someone?” Mel was shocked. “Only temporarily, of course,” she explained when she saw his expression. “And only fictitiously. I’m writing a novel.”
They began brainstorming immediately. Eighteen months later they were married, and the novels they set in fictitious Ozark towns began to sell. The first novel in the Hideaway series, published in the Steeple Hill Single Title program, won a prestigious Christy Award for Best Romance in 2004.
Death Benefits
Hannah Alexander
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.
—Proverbs 3:5–6
With thanks to Ray and Clydene Brown, real, live heroes who were there for us in our time of need.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
On New Year’s Eve, Lucy Jameson dreamed she saw her dead mama’s face in the fire. Mama had a pretty face, with eyes the color of sunshine through leaves, eyes that filled with love when she smiled. That was what Lucy missed the most about her—the smile, the love.
Mama didn’t always smile, though.
In the fire, her eyes looked scary, and her mouth moved as if she might be shouting—though no sound came from her lips. She acted this way when she needed to get high. Soon, if she got high, she’d be happy for a few days.
Lucy wasn’t supposed to know about these things, because she was only eight and a half. Some kids just knew, whether they were supposed to or not.
Mama stepped out of the fire and came toward Lucy, her hands black and smoking. Her feet burned into the wooden floor, spreading flames with every footstep.
Lucy gasped and sat up in bed, trying to scream as her eyes flew open in the dark. The sound came from her mouth like the chirp of a cricket. She knew it was her own voice; there weren’t any crickets outside the window the week after Christmas in Hideaway, Missouri.
She hated these dreams worst of all. They made her remember the bad times, when her mother was scary-mad, when she slapped and screamed at Lucy and Brittany and called them nasty names. That was when Mama hated them.
“Sissy?”
Lucy winced at Brittany’s frightened voice. “I’m here.”
“What was that noise?”
“It’s okay, it was me.” Good thing she sounded normal again, not like the screechy cry from her dream.
There was a whisper of covers, then a thud of bare feet as Brittany dropped from her own bed and crossed to Lucy’s.
She climbed up beside Lucy without asking permission.
Lucy pulled the blankets back and helped her settle under them. Even though Brittany kicked the covers off, and sometimes even snored, Lucy didn’t mind. Much. Brittany couldn’t help it, she was only five. She wouldn’t be six until February.
Brittany squirmed close, right into Lucy’s face. Eeww! Her breath stank.
“Did you have another bad dream?”
“Guess so.” Lucy protected her nose with a handful of blanket.
“Was it about Mama again?”
Why did Aunt Ginger’s spaghetti make their breath smell like this?
Brittany tugged at Lucy’s arm. “Huh? Was it?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “Now be quiet or everybody will wake up and nobody’ll get back to sleep and we’ll be tired all day tomorrow.”
Brittany shifted…settled…shifted…settled, then snuggled close to Lucy’s side. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. Mama used to let us stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
“But we never got up early on New Year’s Day to catch a plane to Hawaii when Mama was alive.”
Brittany sighed. “No.”
“You’ll want to be awake for the airplane ride, so go back to sleep.” They’d never flown.
“I don’t know if I can sleep now. You scared me awake.” Still, she yawned.
Lucy felt Brittany’s teddy bear Chuckles being squeezed between them, his soft fur comforting as it had always been when they were alone at home, when Mom had been out somewhere in the night.
Lucy rubbed Brittany’s head with gentle strokes and waited until her breathing grew deeper. Even when Brittany said she couldn’t sleep, she always did.
“A dream,” Lucy whispered to herself, remembering the angry face of her mother. “She’s dead. It’s okay now. She’s dead.” And then she cried, hating herself for saying that.
Willow Traynor was going to become their new mother next week. She wouldn’t do the things Mama did, because she’d never done them.
Willow didn’t look anything like Mama—Mama was pretty—but Willow was gentle, and when she spent time with Lucy and Brittany, it was as if she really wanted to be with them. She never yelled, and she hugged them a lot. She didn’t take drugs, and she never slapped them. Willow made Lucy feel special.
As soon as Graham and Willow got married and everyone got home from the honeymoon, then Willow would move in here with Lucy and Brittany and Graham. Then, the week after that, the adoption would be final, and they would be a family.
Graham and Willow were going to be the most wonderful mother and father in the world. Lucy knew she could learn to feel safe with them.
She glanced across the room and barely saw the outline of Brittany’s bed, the pile of blankets looking like a jumble of little hills in the moonlight.
Brittany had her own bedroom in this house, but even after all these months, Lucy and Brittany wanted to stay together. The same people who said Lucy was too mature for an eight-and-a-half-year-old couldn’t believe Brittany was almost six. She was small for her age.
Light came in under the door, and it was brighter than the night-light, so that meant someone was up.
The surface of the lake, down the hill from the big log house where they lived, reflected lights from the boys’ ranch on the other shore, where Blaze Farmer lived.
Lucy loved Blaze. When she grew up, she was going to marry him.
On any other night, if the lights were on at the ranch, it meant that it wasn’t midnight yet. The boys all had to be in bed by eleven, even Blaze, who helped with the younger boys when he wasn’t working at the clinic or in college. Tonight, all the boys got to stay up late because of New Year’s Eve.
Lucy realized, since she’d heard no footsteps rushing down the hallway, that her cries from the nightmare hadn’t been loud enough to be heard through the house. Sometimes, she screamed loud enough to wake Aunt Ginger or Graham. Then Aunt Ginger would place Brittany in bed with Lucy, and spend the rest of the night in Brittany’s bed. She’d done that a few times since Mama died last spring.
Aunt Ginger said Lucy had never had the chance to be a child, and that she should learn to be one now. Lucy didn’t know what she meant.
Sometimes, when Lucy woke up from a bad dream and couldn’t stop shaking, she’d creep down the dim corridor to Aunt Ginger’s room. She never made any noise, but sat on the floor in the corner, listening to Ginger breathing…sometimes snuggling into the clothes Ginger’d tossed off when she changed into her pajamas. The smell of Aunt Ginger made her feel safe.
Lucy would miss Aunt Ginger when she moved out.
Tonight wasn’t a good night to wake her up, but if someone was already up anyway…
With slow, careful movements, Lucy pushed the covers back and slid to the floor. Had to be quiet. Brittany shouldn’t wake up again. If she did, she might never get back to sleep.
Lucy opened the door, holding her breath. No sound came from the bed. She crept out into the hallway, but the telephone rang in the front room. She stopped, startled, then glanced back at her sister. No movement.
Who could be calling at this time of night?
Ginger Carpenter reached for the cordless phone beside her chair in the great room of her brother’s lodge—that was how she would have to think of it from now on. No longer home. This would be her last night here.
Curious about who might be calling to wish them Happy New Year, she gave one final, longing glance toward the glow of the full winter moon over the lake.
She would miss this place. After the wedding in Hawaii, Ginger would move into Willow’s condo off Lakeshore Drive. It was situated in a nice area, but it wouldn’t have what Graham’s roomy log house had—two little girls who had taken up so much of her time…and her heart…for the past nine months.
She answered the phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was blocked. “Yes.”
“Ginger Carpenter, that you?” came a deep, gravelly voice that she was too tired to recognize.
“That’s right.”
“Larry Bager here.”
