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“Heather, please—”
Too private for Kate’s ears. She cleared her throat, hoping they would hear her and take their discussion elsewhere.
“I told you not to leave.” The girl’s voice was edged with pain. “I knew something bad would happen.”
“Your mother’s death wasn’t my fault, Heather.”
“No? Then whose fault was it?”
THREE
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Kate opened her eyes to the gray winter light peering through the curtain, turned her head on the pillow and squinted at the travel alarm perched on the bedside table. Her temples throbbed in sync with the ticking clock.
Eight-fifteen. Later than she’d slept in the last six months.
So why’d she still feel groggy? Probably the drugs Dr. Samuels had given her yesterday at the clinic.
She closed her eyes and started to drift back to sleep. Visions flashed through her mind—the deer, the bridge, the raging water rushing in around her.
Her eyes jerked open. The water receded, replaced by the memory of Nolan’s powerful arms and warm embrace. If he hadn’t saved her—
Don’t go there. Nolan had saved her.
Thank God.
She shook her head ever so slightly. Far as she was concerned, God had nothing to do with it.
But Tina? Tears stung Kate’s eyes. She blinked them away.
Heather’s angry voice echoed in Kate’s mind.
Had she imagined the father-daughter spat? Maybe a dream?
A widower trying to raise a teenage daughter had to be tough. Yet, he’d taken Kate into his home.
As much as she appreciated his hospitality, she needed to get up, assess her situation and head back to Atlanta. Back to—
She sighed. Back to an empty condo and two weeks of worry. Until the board of review made their decision.
No telling the outcome.
Headstrong. That was what Jason had called her. Talking to the reporter had been a foolish mistake. She’d put her position and the lab in jeopardy.
Don’t cry over spilled milk. Her grandfather’s words flowed through her consciousness. Grandda with his Old World practicality. He’d be the first to tell her to focus on the problem at hand.
Cautiously, she eased her arm from under the down comforter and rubbed her forehead. If only the jackhammer pounding through her brain would stop.
Mouth as dry as cotton batting, she ran her parched tongue over chapped lips as her eyes swept the room in the half light.
Oak dresser. Ladder-back chair. A roughly hewn wooden cross nailed to the wall next to an oval mirror.
Closet and two other doors. One hung open, exposing a porcelain sink and shower stall, as inviting as a desert oasis.
She threw back the covers, rolled to her side and gasped. A jolt of white lightning sliced through her left leg.
“Argh!” Falling back on the bed, Kate fought the wave of nausea that rolled over her along with the frigid morning air.
An empty stomach and pain medication didn’t mix. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday—one low-fat granola bar washed down with coffee.
Sucking in a few shallow puffs of air, she waited until the pain subsided, then slowly rose to a sitting position and examined the immobilizer secured around her left leg with Velcro straps. A torn ACL.
Kate didn’t have time for another problem.
Determined to push through the pain, she eased herself to the edge of the bed and carefully lowered her feet to the cold hardwood floor. Putting weight on her good leg, she stood upright.
The room faded into darkness. Kate grabbed the nightstand and waited for her sudden drop in blood pressure to pass. Poised precariously like a flamingo on one foot, she winced as her hurt leg fought against her effort and blinked the room back into focus.
She wouldn’t run any marathons today. Five hops to the bathroom might be more than she could manage.
Trading the support of the nightstand for the dresser, she inched across the room. With every movement, her leg screamed in protest. Finally, she reached the bathroom, slumped against the sink and held her breath until the stabbing pain eased.
Kate glanced at the face looking back at her from the mirror.
Sunken eyes. Pale skin. Twisted matt of hair.
She flipped on the wall switch and sighed when the light failed to work. Electricity must have gone out in the night.
Reaching for the faucet, she turned on the water, lowered her head and gulped the cool liquid pooled in her outstretched hand.
A travel kit of wrapped toiletries sat on the basin. She jabbed a fingernail into the cellophane, grabbed a pocket comb and raked it through her hair, then brushed her teeth, scrubbed her face and toweled dry. What she wouldn’t give for a shower.
Her eyes once again connected with the stranger in the mirror. Not her best day by a long shot.
A white terry-cloth robe hung on a wall hook. Kate snuggled into the thick cotton, left the bathroom and hobbled to the guest-room door.
What would she find on the other side?
Sucking in a fortifying breath, she reached for the knob and pulled. Stairs climbed upward directly outside her room. She grabbed the banister for support and examined the hallway around her.
Photos hung on the wall. Nolan arm in arm with his daughter. A second picture of Heather when she was a little girl. A third of Tina and Nolan sitting side by side at a kitchen table.
Older, more mature, but Tina still flaunted the flirtatious smile and laughing eyes.
A life cut short. Why? Kate’s mind swirled. So senseless.
She let go of the stair railing, reached for the wall and misjudged the distance.
Her right knee buckled. She tumbled forward.
From out of nowhere, arms grabbed her. Pulled her upright.
Kate twisted and stared into Nolan’s dark eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “You should have called for help.”
“I didn’t expect another crash. Seems you’ve saved me a second time.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You prone to trouble?”
“Not usually.” She found her footing, straightened her shoulders and tried to gracefully extract herself from his hold. “I’m fine.”
“Really? Looks to me like you’re ready to keel over.”
Exactly how she felt. Her blood pressure must be ninety over fifty, the way her head was swimming.
His hands continued to steady her. “Lean against me for support.”
Embarrassed to appear so needy, Kate put weight on her injured leg, then gasped as a hot slice of pain shot through her knee.
Swallow your pride, Kate.
If Nolan wanted to help, why not let him? The world could use a few more heroes.
His arm slid around her waist. “Easy does it.”
Slowly, he guided her through the doorway and into the welcoming interior of the great room. A blazing fire crackled a greeting from a massive stone fireplace on the far wall.
Nolan lowered her into a leather chair, warm from someone’s previous body heat. A half-full cup of coffee sat on the side table. Nolan’s chair.
“Listen, I don’t want to take your—”
“Would you please sit down?” His tone was firm. Then he smiled. “You always so obstinate?”
“My grandfather called me stubborn.”
“I’d have to agree with him.”
Kate wiggled back into the deep cushions as Nolan raised her left leg to the ottoman and covered it with a chenille throw he grabbed off the couch. He tucked the covering around her bare foot before he stood and surveyed his patient.
A sense of gratitude spread over Kate. “I can’t thank you enough. You saved my life last night. Then you took me in. Now you’re waiting on me hand and foot.” She glanced down at her injured leg. “Literally. I’m not used to such treatment.”
“Chalk it up to Southern hospitality. Which reminds me, how do you take your coffee?”
“A little sweetener.”
“Sugar okay?”
“Of course.” She wove her fingers into the folds of the throw. “I really do appreciate your generosity.”
“Not a problem. Besides, you knew Tina.” He shook his head and swallowed. “Still can’t believe it. Tina was a good employee and a friend to Heather.” He sighed. “My daughter and I are both having a hard time.”
“Death’s tough on everyone.”
Nolan’s eyes softened. “Were you and Tina old friends?”
“Since grammar school. The Espinosas lived next door.”
“Guess you heard, Tina’s mom passed away last December. No other living relatives. Her brother died three years ago.”
“I knew about Eddie.” Kate lowered her gaze, hoping her eyes didn’t reflect the pain written on her heart.
“Funny, Tina never mentioned having a friend in Atlanta.”
Kate pulled in a steadying breath. “We’d been out of touch for a few years.”
“Bad timing, huh?”
She jerked her head up. “What?”
“Arriving in town the day she died. Must be tearing you apart.”
How did she feel? Regret? Sorrow? Three years and Kate couldn’t get past the rejection.
“So what brought you to Mercy?” Nolan asked.
“Tina had something that belonged to me. Did she ever mention a gold cross?”
“Not that I recall. Then again, she kept personal matters to herself. Lived in the apartment over the garage.” His eyes flicked over Kate’s injured leg. “Stairs are steep. Don’t suggest you go poking around up there.”
“Of course not.” Had Tina told Nolan about what she’d seen in the woods? She’d said she didn’t trust anyone. Did that include her boss?
“I’ll talk to Heather. Maybe she’s seen the cross. If we find it, we’ll be sure to give it back to you.” Nolan pointed toward the kitchen door. “I’ll get that coffee now.”
Kate watched him leave. On the surface, he seemed like a nice enough guy, and he’d saved her life, for which she’d be eternally grateful. But she needed to be careful. People weren’t always who they seemed.
She shook her head. Lighten up, would you?
Better to focus on the positive.
Kate gazed around the room. Framed photos of Heather sat on the mantel. Tough raising a child alone.
Even harder for a girl who needed a mother’s love. Kate should know. God had robbed her of that luxury, too.
Maybe that was why Tina’s mom had played such an important roll in Kate’s life.
Until the fire had changed their relationship forever.
