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“You’re naming the dog?”
“We have to call him something,” she said reasonably. “You work on him. I’ll be right back.”
He puzzled over Erica as he carefully examined the dog’s leg. She seemed kind and helpful and well-spoken. So how had Kimmie connected with her? Had Kimmie gotten her life together, started running with a better crowd? Was Erica some kind of emissary from his sister?
He breathed in and out and tried to focus on the present moment. This homey room, the quiet, the dog’s warm brown eyes. Letting his thoughts run away with him was dangerous, was what had made him okay with administrative leave. The only crime he’d committed was trusting his partner, who’d turned out to be corrupt, taking bribes. With time, Jason knew he’d be exonerated of wrongdoing.
But still, he was all too aware that he’d lost perspective. He’d been working too hard and getting angrier and angrier, partly because of worrying about his sister’s situation and wondering where she was. He’d had no life. Coming here, taking a break, was the right thing to do, especially given his grandmother’s death earlier this year.
He should have come home more. He’d made so many mistakes as a brother, a son, a grandson. And a fiancé, according to what Renea had screamed as she’d stormed out for the last time. Funny how that was the weakness that bothered him the least.
Erica came back into the room and set a tray down on the end table beside the couch.
A familiar, delicious smell wafted toward him. Déjà vu. “You made hot chocolate?”
She looked worried. “Papa Andy showed me where to find everything before he went to bed. I hope it’s okay. You just looked so cold.”
He took one of the two mugs and sipped, then drank. “Almost as good as Gran’s.”
Her face broke into a relieved smile, and if she’d been pretty before, her smile made her absolutely gorgeous. Wow.
“How’s Mistletoe?” She set down the other mug and knelt by the dog.
He snorted out a laugh at the name. “He let me look at his leg. Whether he’ll let me wash it remains to be seen.” He put down the hot chocolate and dipped a rag into the warm water.
“Want me to hold his head?”
“No.” Was she crazy? “If he bites anybody, it’s going to be me, not you.”
“I’m not afraid.” She scooted over, gently lifted the dog’s large head and crossed her legs beneath. “It’s okay, boy,” she said, stroking his face and ears. “Jason’s going to fix it.”
Jason parted the dog’s fur. “Don’t look—it’s not pretty.”
She ignored his instruction, leaning over to see. “Aw, ouch. Wonder what happened?”
“A fight, or clipped by a car. He’s limping pretty bad, so I’m worried the bone is involved.” As gently as possible, he squeezed water onto the wound and then wiped away as much dirt as he could. Once, the dog yelped, but Erica soothed him immediately and he relaxed back into her lap.
Smart dog.
Jason ripped strips of towel and wrapped the leg, aiming for gentle compression. “There you go, fella. We’ll call the vet in the morning.”
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Erica eased out from under the dog’s head, gave him a few more ear scratches and then moved to the couch, picking up her mug on the way. “I love hot chocolate, but in Phoenix, we didn’t have much occasion to drink it.”
Jason picked up his half-full cup and sat in the adjacent armchair. “How did you know Kimmie?”
The question was abrupt, and he meant it to be. People answered more honestly when they hadn’t had a chance to relax and figure out what their interrogator wanted to hear.
She drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Fair question. I met her at Canyon Lodge.” She looked at him, but when he didn’t react, she clarified. “It’s a drug rehab center.”
“You’re an addict, too?”
“Noooo.” She lifted an eyebrow at his assumption. “My mom was. I met Kimmie, wow, ten years ago, on visits to Mom. When they both got out, we stayed in touch.”
And yet she hadn’t turned to her mom when she’d needed a place to stay. “How’s your mom doing?” he asked.
She looked away. “She didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” She slid down off the couch to sit beside the dog again, petting him in long, gentle strokes.
“Where’s Kimmie now? Is she in Phoenix?”
Erica hesitated.
“Look, we’ve been out of touch for years. But if she’s sober now...” He saw Erica’s expression change. “Is she sober now?”
Erica looked down at the dog, into the fire, anywhere but at him.
Hope leaked out of him like air from a deflating tire. “She’s not.”
Finally, she blew out a breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“What do you mean? She’s straight or she’s not.”
Erica’s face went tense, and he realized he’d spoken harshly. Not the way to gain trust and information. “Sorry. Let’s start over. Why did she send you to Holly Creek Farm?”
Simple enough question, he’d thought. Apparently not.
“It’s complicated,” she said.
He ground his teeth to maintain patience. His superiors had been right; he was too much on the edge to be working the streets right now. For a fleeting, fearful moment, he wondered if he could ever do it again.
But interviewing someone about your own kin was different, obviously, than asking questions about a stranger.
“Kimmie isn’t...well,” she said finally.
Jason jerked to attention at her tone. “What’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but his cell phone buzzed. Wretched thing. And as a cop, even one on leave, he had to take it.
“It’s late for a phone call.” Then she waved a hand, looking embarrassed. “Not my business. Sorry.”
A feeling of foreboding came over Jason as he looked at the unfamiliar number. “Area code 602. Phoenix, isn’t it?”
She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Yes.”
He clicked to answer. “Jason Stephanidis.”
“Mr. Stephanidis.” The voice on the other end was male, and there was background noise Jason couldn’t identify. “Are you the brother of Kimberly Stephanidis?”
Jason closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“Okay. This is Officer John Jiminez. Phoenix PD. You’re a cop, too?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. My information’s accurate. Do you know... Have you seen your sister recently?”
“No.”
Silence. Then: “Look, I’m sorry to inform you that she’s passed away. I’ve been assigned to locate her next of kin.”
A chasm opened in his chest. “Drugs?”
“The coroner listed the cause of death as an overdose. But it also looks like she had advanced lung cancer.”
Jason squeezed his eyes closed, tighter, as if that could block out the words he was hearing. What he wanted to do was to shout back: No. No. No.
* * *
Erica sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. Trying to hold herself together.
Kimmie was gone.
The twins were motherless.
Grief warred with worry and fear, and she jumped up and paced the room.
After Jason had barked out the news, said that a lawyer would call back tomorrow with more information, he’d banged out of the house.
What had happened? Had Kimmie gone peacefully, with good care, or died alone and in pain? Or, given the mention of overdose, had she taken the low road one last time?
Erica sank her head into her hands and offered up wordless prayers. Finally, a little peace came to her as the truth she believed with all her heart sank in: Kimmie had gone home to a forgiving God, happy, all pain gone.
She paced over to the window and looked out. The snow had stopped, and as she watched, the moon came out from under a cloud, sending a cold, silvery light over the rolling farmland.
Off to the side, Jason shoveled a walkway, fast, furious, robotic.
Wanting air herself, wanting to see that moon better and remind herself that God had a plan, Erica found a heavy jacket in the hall closet and slipped outside.
Sharp cold took her breath away. A wide creek ran alongside the house, a little stone bridge arching over it. Snow blanketed hills and trees and barns.
And the moonlight! It reflected off snow and water, rendering the scene almost as bright as daytime, bright enough that a wooden fence and a line of tall pines cast shadows on the snow.
The only sound was the steady chink-chink-chink of Jason’s shovel.
The newness, the majesty, the fearfulness of the scene made her tremble. God’s creation, beautiful and dangerous. A Sunday school verse flashed through her mind: “In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”
The shovel stopped. Heavy boot steps came toward her.
“You should have contacted me!” Jason’s voice was loud, angry. “How long were you with her? Didn’t you think her family might want to know?”
His accusatory tone stung. “She didn’t want me to contact you!”
“You listened to an addict?”
“She said you told her you were through helping her.”
“I didn’t know she had cancer!” He sank down on the front step and let his head fall into his hands. “I would have helped.” The last word came out choked.
Erica’s desire to fight left her. He was Kimmie’s brother, and he was hurting.
She sat down beside him. “She wasn’t alone, until just a short while ago. I was with her.”
He turned his head to face her. “I don’t get it. On top of everything else she had to deal with, she took in you and your kids?”
She saw how it looked to him. But what was she supposed to say? Kimmie hadn’t wanted her to tell Jason about the twins. She’d spoken of him bitterly. “I was a support to her, not a burden,” she said. “You can believe that or not.”
He leaned back on his elbows, staring out across the moon-bright countryside. “Tough love,” he muttered. “Everyone says to use tough love.”
Behind them, there was a scratching sound and then a mournful howl.
Jason stood and opened the door, and Mistletoe limped outside. He lifted his golden head and sniffed the air.
“Guess he got lonely.” Jason sat back down.
Mistletoe shoved in between them and rested his head on Jason’s lap.
They were silent for a few minutes. Erica was cold, especially where her thin jeans met the stone porch steps. But she felt lonely, too. She didn’t want to leave the dog. And strangely enough, she didn’t want to leave Jason. Although he was obviously angry, and even blaming her, he was the only person in the world right now, besides her, who was grieving Kimmie’s terribly early death.
“I just don’t get your story,” he burst out. “How’d you help her when you were trying to care for your babies, too? And why’d she send you and your kids here?”
Mistletoe nudged his head under Jason’s hand, demanding attention.
“I want some answers, Erica.”
Praying for the words to come to her, Erica spoke. “She said this was a good place, a safe place. She knew I...didn’t have much.”
He lifted a brow like he didn’t believe her.
“She’d loved my mom.” Which was true. “She was kind of like a big sister to me.”
“She was a real big sister to me.” Suddenly, Jason pounded a fist into his open hand. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe she OD’d alone.” He paused and drew in a ragged breath, then looked at Erica. “I’m going to find out more about you and what went on out there. I’m going to get some answers.”
Erica looked away from his intensity. She didn’t want him to see the fear in her eyes.
And she especially didn’t want him to find one particular answer: that Kimmie was the biological mother of the twins sleeping upstairs.
