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Ruth stopped in the doorway and did a double take Claire might have found funny if she hadn’t been staggering under the weight of her grief for Layla.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
Riley blinked a little at Ruth’s outrage, then he shuttered any expression.
“Visiting Claire. I thought she might want to know the status of the investigation into the break-in at her store.”
Claire didn’t care anymore. She would have gladly endured the violation and outrage of hundreds of burglaries if it meant Layla could still be alive, with her black-painted fingernails and the mascara she would layer on with a trowel.
Ruth squinted at Claire and the scattered tissues on top of the blanket. She advanced on Riley, her features furious. “You told her, didn’t you?”
This was what her mother had been keeping from her, Claire realized finally, why she was drawn and upset. She had said nothing to Claire yesterday, had prevented Jeff from telling her, as well.
“Yes,” Riley answered. “She asked. I answered.”
“You had no right. No right!”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Mother? Maura is my friend. Alex is my best friend. I needed to know. You shouldn’t have tried to keep it from me.”
Ruth bristled and looked offended, an expression she wore with comfortable familiarity. “I didn’t want to upset you. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”
“A few broken bones, which will heal,” Claire shot back. “I didn’t lose a child!”
Ruth aimed another vitriolic look at Riley. If her mother hadn’t already disliked him, she would loathe him now for going against her misguided wishes.
“What good does it do for you to know right now? You would find out soon enough. Look at how upset you are.”
Ruth would never understand that Claire was angry at her for withholding the information, not at Riley. With her classic myopia, her mother could always figure out a way to make herself the injured party in any conflict, so why bother trying to explain?
“I’d better go. I’ve got to head down to the station.”
He seemed so different from the teasing, flirtatious man who had come into her store after the robbery and her heart ached. “I’m so sorry, Riley,” she murmured, knowing the words were grossly inadequate, but they were all she had available. “Thank you again for everything that night.”
“I’m glad you’re doing better. Take care of yourself, Claire.”
She nodded and watched him go, then settled in to face an exhausting day of busybody nurses and poking, prodding doctors and, worse, having to cope with her mother.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE okay back there?” Jeff met her gaze in the rearview mirror.
Claire shifted on the backseat of his Escalade, trying to ignore the pain shooting through her muscles with every rotation of the tires.
She hugged Owen to her and reached across his back to hold Macy’s hand. What were a few bumps in the road when she finally had her children close?
“I’m fine. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive anyway.”
“You really should have taken the front seat.” Seated beside Jeff, Holly leaned around the headrest and gave Claire a stern look.
She was absolutely right but Claire refused to give her the satisfaction of agreeing. It had been stupid to insist on taking the backseat, where she didn’t have nearly enough leg room for a cast. She had to stop literally bending herself in half to make everyone else happy.
“But then I would have missed the chance to sit by the kids and I’ve missed them like crazy.”
She forced a smile and somehow managed to keep it from wobbling away when Jeff hit one of the town’s legendary late-spring potholes and the subsequent lurch sent her meager hospital lunch sloshing around her insides.
It was only the pain pills making her nauseated, she knew. That and the fact that she was actually in motion again after being confined to her hospital room for nearly five days.
“It looks as if most of the snow has finally melted.”
Indeed, with the capriciousness of a Rocky Mountain spring, the temperature during her brief trip from the wide hospital front doors to Jeff’s backseat had been mild and pleasant. Outside the car window, she saw children playing on muddy lawns already beginning to turn a pale green and as Jeff turned onto Blue Sage Road, she enjoyed the sight of the bright yellow and red tulips beginning to bud in Caroline Bybee’s always-spectacular garden.
“It’s about time,” Macy groused. “It seems like winter went on forever this year.”
“I know, right,” Holly said. “I mean, Sunday is Easter and everything. I was thinking we’d have to hide eggs in the snow this year.”
That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in Claire’s memory. In the high Rockies, Hope’s Crossing had been known to see heavy snowstorms into late May, but usually by the first of April, most of the remaining snow was up at the higher elevation of the ski resort.
“I’m glad it’s warmer today, for Maura’s sake,” she murmured.
Except for those children they passed, the streets appeared quiet, almost deserted. Most of the year-round residents of Hope’s Crossing would be at the funeral for Layla Parker. Ruth was there, which was the sole reason Holly and Jeff were the designated drivers taking Claire from the hospital to home.
Her mother couldn’t miss the funeral, not when she’d been friends with Mary Ella since they were girls. Claire understood that and had chosen to bite her lip and say nothing when Ruth arranged with Jeff and Holly to take her home from the hospital without consulting her on the matter. She would have preferred to call a taxi. Okay, truth be told, she would rather have tried to wheel herself the four hilly miles from the hospital to home rather than be dependent on her ex-husband.
“Careful on those bumps, honey.” Holly rested one of her perfectly manicured hands on Jeff’s arm. “Maybe you should slow down a little.”
“It’s fine. I’m only going twenty-two miles per hour. It’s a thirty-five zone.”
If he were speeding, he would still probably be safe from a ticket because Riley and most of his police department would probably be at the funeral with the rest of the town.
“How’s everything been at home?” she asked Macy quickly.
“Okay. While you’ve been in the hospital and we’ve been staying at Dad and Holly’s, I’ve been stopping at the house to take in the newspaper and the mail after school.”
“We dropped Chester off at the house before we went to the hospital. He’s super-excited to be back home.”
She could imagine. Holly wasn’t a big dog lover and probably insisted their poor aging basset hound sleep in the cold garage.
“You should have seen him, Mom. He went through every room, wagging his tail like crazy. You’d think he’d been gone a month instead of just a few days.”
If Claire had possessed a tail, she would probably do the same thing when they reached her house, she was that eager to be home. She couldn’t wait to be in her own space again.
Had it really been only five days since the accident? She felt as if she’d lived a dozen lifetimes in those days.
“I still think it’s too early for you to be going home.” Jeff frowned at her in the rearview mirror.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to take that up with Dr. Murray. He’s the one who signed the release papers.”
“You can’t take care of yourself. Geez, Claire, you can’t even get to the bathroom on your own.”
She forced herself to smile patiently, even as she fought the urge to remind Jeff that while he had the right to his opinions, she no longer had to listen to them. Truly one of the better things about not being married to the man anymore.
“Ruth will be staying at the house the first few nights. She’s insisting.”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t divorced her mother. It was a little tougher to ignore Ruth’s opinions, much as she would like to.
While Claire just wanted to go home and crawl into bed for a few weeks, yank the covers over her head and forget the rest of the world existed, she had two children who still needed to eat and do their homework and feed the dog. Pity parties were for women without obligations.
She had to be realistic about her limitations. Jeff was correct. Just taking care of herself was going to be enough of a challenge.
Having her mother there for a few days would be a big help. For a short time anyway, she could endure her mother harping on everything from the smelly dog to Owen’s muddy tennis shoes in the hall to the bad haircut of the news anchor on her favorite channel.
Claire had already resolved that she would simply grit her teeth and think how grateful she was that she still had a mother who cared about her and who was willing to step in for a few—and only a few, please God—days.
“What about after she leaves?” Holly asked. “Would you like me to stay with you for a few days? I would be more than happy to.”
Claire offered a weak smile while her insides writhed at the idea. The only thing worse than Ruth in her space for a few days would be Holly, all big teeth and perfect hair and her desperate need for Claire to be her friend.
“That’s a lovely offer, Holly. Really. Thank you. But I’m sure by the first of next week, the kids and I will have figured things out together and I should be a little more self-sufficient. Anyway, you don’t need the stress of worrying about somebody else right now. You need to take care of yourself and the little one.”
“I have had contractions every day since the accident,” she confessed, looking so young and worried that Claire was compelled to offer what little comfort she could.
“I’m sure they’re simply Braxton-Hicks. Nothing to worry about,” she said.
“That’s what I’ve told her.” Jeff gave his young wife a fond, indulgent sort of look. “She thinks just because my specialty is orthopedics, I’ve forgotten my OB-GYN rotation. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been through this twice before.”
If Claire remembered correctly, she was the one who’d been through this twice before, but the whole situation was just too strange for her and she wasn’t in the mood to point that out.
Jeff turned onto Blackberry Lane just then and a moment later pulled into the driveway, sparing her from having to come up with an answer.
For a moment, Claire just wanted to sit here and gaze at the wonderful familiarity of her house, bricks a weathered red, that charming porch out front, the ironwork fence with the arrowed finials around the perimeter of the yard.
She loved this house and had for years, long before the day she and Jeff made an offer on it three years ago. It was hers alone now, hers and the children’s, but she had never been so happy to be there.
Making her way from car to house was a bit of an ordeal. Beyond the difficulties of the transfer from the backseat to the wheelchair she was stuck in for a few weeks at least, her front door had four steps, too many for the portable folding ramp Jeff had wangled from somewhere. Owen finally suggested they use the back door leading to the kitchen because it only had two steps and a slightly larger doorway for the wheelchair, and finally Macy pushed her inside and she was home.
Chester gave a happy bark of greeting—as happy as his barks could sound anyway—but then he freaked out at something, maybe her cast or the sight of the wheelchair, and headed for his safe zone under the kitchen table.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Owen cajoled. “Come on out. It’s just Mom.”
“He’ll get used to it,” Claire said, although she’d been dealing with the whole thing for five days and she still wasn’t used to it all.
“He’s not coming. What a dorky dog.” Macy shook her head. “Maybe you should try one of his treats.”
As much as she loved Chester, Claire was too achy and exhausted right now to care much about showing up on the dog’s popularity list, but because it seemed so important to the kids, she took the treat Macy handed her from the pantry and held it down at the dog’s eye level.
Chester hesitated for only a moment before he waddled to her side for the treat, then started sniffing the wheels of the chair and her outstretched toes sticking out of the cast.
“As we talked about at the hospital, you’re several weeks from being able to tackle the stairs in this house,” Jeff said rather pompously. “We’ve moved some of your things down to the guest bedroom.”
“I know.” That part she didn’t mind. The guest room was actually one of the nicer rooms of the house, with an en suite bathroom and wide windows overlooking the mountains. She had created such a comfortable little spot there that even after the divorce, Jeff’s parents still preferred staying with her whenever they came to visit from their house in Arizona, much to Holly’s chagrin.
“We like to be closer to the children,” JoAnn had tried to explain to Holly during their last visit, but Claire suspected even after their new grandchild was born, the Bradfords would prefer this place, with its sunny garden and basketball hoop in the driveway to the glass and cedar showplace Jeff and Holly had built up in Snowcrest Estates.
“I brought down all your pillows and your favorite quilt,” Macy said. “The Western Star that your Grandma Van Duran made when you were a little girl. Holly helped me put fresh sheets on the bed for you.”
“Thank you. Both of you.” Claire managed a smile.
“You need to rest now,” Holly said sternly. “Jeff and I will stay here with the children until the funeral is over and your mother can get away and come here.”
“Can I drive you in?” Owen asked.
She smiled at her eager-to-please eight-year-old. “Of course.”
With care and concentration, he maneuvered the chair through the doors, which were just wide enough for it to fit. She was definitely going to have to come up with another solution than this wheelchair or all the lovely historic woodwork of the door frames she had worked so hard to refinish would be dinged and scraped.
As soon as she reached the bed and started the complicated process of transferring from the chair, she realized with not inconsiderable dismay that she would have to change into a nightgown from the skirt and cotton shirt her mother had brought to the hospital for her trip home.
The enormity of the task, given the cast on her arm, completely overwhelmed her. “Can you send Macy back to help me change?” she asked Owen.
“Don’t be silly,” Holly exclaimed from the doorway, where she and Jeff had apparently followed them. “I’ll help you.”
She absolutely did not want her ex-husband’s young, adorably pregnant wife helping her, but she didn’t exactly have a lot of options here. “Thank you,” she murmured.
When Jeff made no move to leave, Claire raised her eyebrows. It was an awkward situation all the way around. Although they had been married for ten years and had once been as intimate as two people could be with each other, that was in the past and she wasn’t changing clothes in front of him.
Jeff finally clued in and cleared his throat. “Come on, Owen. Let’s go see what we can find for lunch. You hungry?”
They left, closing the door behind them, leaving her and Holly alone.
While Claire did her best with the buttons on her shirt, Holly immediately went to the mirror-topped antique dresser and pulled out one of Claire’s nightgowns she and Macy must have brought down.
“I have to admit, it’s weird for me to see you this way,” Holly said.
“What do you mean?”
Holly gestured to the wheelchair and the hospital bed Jeff must have arranged to replace the queen normally in the room. Claire didn’t think that was strictly necessary, although she supposed it would help with transfers from the bed to the wheelchair. “I don’t know. Needy, I guess. You’re the most together person I know. It’s just…different to see you otherwise.”
“It’s not so comfortable for me, either,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Holly said quietly. “Really sorry. It must be hard for you.”
“Yes,” she admitted with reluctance.
“Well, don’t worry about it. I’m glad to help. Let’s get you more comfortable.”
Few moments in Claire’s life were as excruciatingly humiliating as being forced to sit, helpless and weak, as her ex-husband’s young and beautiful new wife helped her into the loose cotton nightgown.
Holly was actually very considerate and kind about the whole thing, to her relief, but by the time they finished Claire was exhausted and humiliated and could only think about another pain pill. Unfortunately, she wasn’t due to take a dose for a few hours yet. She was vigilant about keeping to the correct schedule, afraid of becoming dependent. She didn’t know if it was a genetic predisposition, but her mother’s dark history was entirely too vivid in her memory.
“There you are, Claire,” Holly said when she was finally settled into the bed, the soft quilt tucked to her chin. “Does that feel better?”
