Chance of a Lifetime (15 page)

She relaxed back in the chair. “Normally I’d say no, but since there’s nothing else to do and I seem trapped with a guy who shares his showers with a cat, sure, go ahead, tell me.”

Mrs. Biggs brought in a tray of coffee and banana nut bread. They both thanked her. Half the bread vanished before Rick stood and began his story. Because Trace was at least mildly interested, he included every detail he could remember. He also made note that her questions were worded as if she came from a law enforcement background, or, he considered, she had a criminal mind-set.

As he talked, he paced in front of the windows as if presenting evidence to the jury.

She was asking questions when he saw her face change suddenly into shock.

Before he could understand what was happening, Trace lunged at him, knocking him backward into the chair he’d been sitting in earlier.

Just as his wounded shoulder slammed into the chair, he heard the shattering of glass and a ball the size of a cannon hit the bookshelf, sending books raining down on them.

“Stay down!” she yelled as she jumped off him and ran to the corner of the window.

Rick wasn’t sure he could move. “What happened?” he said far more calmly than he felt.

“Someone tried to hit you, but they’ve vanished, and with this wind, even the tracks will be gone by the time I can get down there.”

She rushed to the bookshelf and dug through the scattered books.

Rick moved to the edge of his chair as she stood and carried something toward him. She held two broken pieces of metal out for him to inspect.

He took the offering and put the pieces together. “It’s one of Martha Q’s garden statues. If you hadn’t knocked me out of the way, I might have been killed by a garden elf.” He leaned back in the chair. “If I weren’t so mad, I’d think this was funny.”

Mrs. Biggs ran into the room and screamed at the sight of the beautiful window shattered across the floor, then looked at both of them. “Are you all right? What happened?”

Trace took charge. “Help me find something to block up this window and then we should call the sheriff and report this. Whoever threw that statue wasn’t some kid out playing in the snow. They must have seen you in the window and meant to do you harm.”

Mrs. Biggs shook her head. “Maybe it was an accident, or the wind.”

No one in the room believed her, but she was still rattling off possibilities when she left.

Trace turned to Rick. “Are you all right?”

He lied and nodded.

“I think I should check that shoulder wound once we get the window blocked, and it might be a good idea to pull all drapes and blinds so no one can see in. Whoever did this might be out there waiting for another chance.”

He agreed. “We won’t have to call the sheriff. An alarm is going off at the station now. I just hope someone is there to answer it.”

Mrs. Biggs showed up with a card table and duct tape. Before they could get it secure, a deputy from the sheriff’s department was pounding on the door.

Rick sat watching as Deputy Gentry and Trace boarded up the window. He could feel blood running down his back, but he didn’t say a word. In the fall, more stitches must have broken open, but if she hadn’t hit him hard enough to knock him down, he might be dead or blind from shattering glass, or…

He didn’t want to think of any more ors. This strange woman who acted like she didn’t care about him at all had just saved his life and she’d done so with far more skills than any Girl Scout had.

When Trace finished with the window, she draped a quilt over Rick and said to the deputy, “We need to get him to the hospital.”

Deputy Gentry didn’t argue, but Rick looked directly at her. “You coming along?”

She shrugged. “Might as well. Unless you want me to call your mother, Matheson?”

“No, don’t call anyone. Let’s go.” He pulled the quilt around him knowing it would be soaked with blood by the time he got to the hospital. “I’d rather have you, Adams, if you’re willing, than all my relatives out on these roads.” She wasn’t exactly Florence Nightingale, but she’d do.

To his surprise, she circled his waist and moved with him to the side entrance where Gentry had pulled the cruiser.

He ignored the pain and tried to smile. “You worried about me?”

“You’re looking a little pale,” she said as she climbed in the back next to him.

He leaned his head back as all that had just happened began to register along with the pain of bruises mounting all along his back. “In case I pass out, I want to say thanks right now.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered. “Now be still and try not to bleed all over the seat.”

He reached for her hand as he closed his eyes.

M
ONDAY

O
N
M
ONDAY AFTERNOON
, E
MILY WAS SURPRISED HOW
much she looked forward to her visit with Paulette Parker. She felt as if she were turning pages in an old diary, meeting her mother as a young woman.

When she got to the nursing home, she was told at the front desk that Paulette had been taken to Amarillo.

As Emily turned to leave, the girl who’d made them tea last week followed her to the door.

“She had a bad fall,” the girl whispered. “I’m sorry Mrs. Parker will miss your visit. She was really excited about it.”

“So was I,” Emily said, reading the girl’s name tag. “Thank you, Beth, for all you did last week. The tea made our visit special.”

“You’re welcome. You really made her happy. This morning all she could talk about was that you’d be back this afternoon. She insisted on walking around her room,” the aide whispered. “The doctor left orders not to allow it,
but we didn’t see the need to restrain her.” A tear drifted down Beth’s face. “I feel like it was my fault she fell.”

“Accidents happen. It wasn’t your fault. Paulette is a woman who lives life by her own rules.”

“We found her just after breakfast. Her head hit the corner of the sink. It knocked her out, but most of the damage seemed be to her hip and leg. The doctor thinks the hip is broken.”

“Does Tannon know?”

The aide nodded. “We called him. He said he’d meet the ambulance at the hospital. Mrs. Parker was so mad he wasn’t here to go with her that the doctor had to give her something to calm her down for the ride. If she’d had ten kids, I don’t think they could do all she wants her one son to do.”

“I brought flowers for her.” Emily held up the roses. It had taken the florist a half hour to weave brightly colored ribbons through the stems of the pale pink roses cut short to fit in a confetti-colored bowl. The effect was a Mardi Gras of color Emily thought Mrs. Parker would like. “I think I remember my mother saying Paulette had pink roses on her wedding dress.”

“I could put them in her room, but she won’t be back tonight. Maybe not for days.”

“No, thanks, I’ll take them home with me. I’d like her to see them fresh.”

Emily drove home, trying to decide what to do. She didn’t know what hospital. Even if she did get to Amarillo to see Paulette, it would probably only be for a few minutes.

Taking a day off to go see her mother’s best friend in the hospital didn’t seem so bad, she told herself, knowing that she wouldn’t do it.

As the afternoon aged, Emily couldn’t stop thinking of the lonely old woman. Every time she passed the flowers on her bar, she wished she had some way to get them to Paulette. She needed to let her know that she was thinking of her.

Finally, at quarter to five, she got an idea. Tannon had said he was always working. He’d probably come back to his office tonight, even if it was just to pick up paperwork and clothes. If she took the flowers to his office, maybe he could take them to Amarillo.

Rushing, she made it to his office before the doors were locked. Though she’d seen the building before, she’d never thought about it being so big inside. The first floor was a bay of offices without walls except for the long glass one that obviously separated Tannon’s office from a dozen employees. Inside everything seemed to be made of glass or steel. Even the desks and low shelves separating the work areas were made of metal. The only color in the room came from a massive brick fireplace that dominated one wall. The brickwork was beautiful and gas flames danced over rock logs designed to look like a campfire.

A long, polished desk stood guard at the entrance just off a simple lobby. The woman behind it looked more like a model than a receptionist. She stood as Emily walked in and smiled a perfect cold smile. “May I help you?”

Emily moved the flowers to one arm. “Is Tannon Parker in?”

“May I have your name, please?” Miss Perfect said.

“Emily Tomlinson. I’m delivering these. Just tell Tannon that they are for his mother. I promised I’d visit her today.”

The girl wrote down Emily’s words and studied her for a moment before deciding she was worth talking to. “He’s not here, but he’ll be back. He called, giving us a list of all the files he wants packed and ready. He may be staying up at the hospital for a few days with her, but he’ll be working. Mr. Parker never stops working.”

“How did he say his mother was?”

The girl looked blank. “I forgot to ask.”

While the secretary wrote, Emily saw the room in a different light. Efficient, polished, very businesslike, but cold, sterile. There were no pictures of kids on desks, no coffee mugs with sayings on them, no personal touches.

“Will there be anything else?” The model looked like she needed to get back to work.

Emily set the flowers and her huge purse on the polished desk. “No, I’ll leave him a note.” She pulled out a notepad, borrowed a pen, and hastily scribbled:
Flowers for your mother. Hope she’s doing better. I’m here if you need me, Emily.

It crossed her mind that the last thing might be a little too personal, but she had a feeling no one cared about Paulette, or Tannon. He was just the boss.

As she drove back to her apartment, she thought of how different the man Tannon was from the boy she’d known. They’d been friends in the kind of way people are who grow up around each other. They’d both been shy, so sometimes in school or at parties, they found themselves together, talking in spots away from the crowd. Once they were in high school, they’d share rides to events and talk about homework over the phone.

She’d always thought of him as her best boy friend. At least she had until “the accident,” as her mother called it. Tannon had promised to be waiting out front of the school that night. He hadn’t been there. She’d walked all the way to the back lot only to find his car locked.

Emily closed her eyes not wanting to remember what happened next. She’d been too frightened to even scream and so hurt she felt like her insides never healed even after all the bruises and cuts did. Being quiet and an A student didn’t matter that night, for in five horrible minutes she became nothing more than a victim.

She’d told herself for fifteen years that it wasn’t Tannon’s fault. He wasn’t the one who had assaulted her, but he hadn’t been there to help either. He hadn’t kept his promise and he’d never said he was sorry.

On nights when the memories came back, like tonight, Emily always took a long shower until the water turned cold, then zipped into her fuzzy robe. Pulling her moments journal from the drawer, she began to read. Favorite moments. Happy moments. Tender moments. They all calmed her mind.

When she folded the journal away, she knew she wouldn’t sleep, so she popped popcorn and curled up on the couch to watch movies.

Halfway through the second movie, her doorbell rang.

Emily couldn’t imagine who it could be. No one ever stopped by her place and the neighbors in the building just knocked. The widow lady across the hall even had a key to let herself in if she needed something.

Crawling out from the clutter, she tiptoed to the speaker against the bell and pushed. “Yes?” she said.

“Emily!” a man’s voice shouted. “Can I come up? It’s Tannon and it’s freezing out here.”

“Oh. Of course.” She pushed the button to release the lock. By the time she’d carried her popcorn to the bar, he was knocking on her door.

When she opened it, he walked in without being asked. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I need a favor and I’ve no one else to ask.” She didn’t miss his exhaustion in the slope of his shoulders or the nervousness in his voice.

“All right.” She moved around him as he stood in the middle of her living room. “How can I help?” She knew that it had taken a lot for him to turn to her for help.

For a moment he didn’t say anything. He just stared at her. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry. I saw your lights all on and thought you were up.” He dug his fingers through his dark hair and sighed as if he’d made his hundredth mistake of the day.

“You didn’t wake me. I was watching a movie.” She added, “Would you like some popcorn?”

He shook his head. “You got any of those ribs left over? I don’t think I’ve eaten today.”

“No,” she answered. “But I have stew. I’ll warm some up while you tell me how your mother is and what I can do to help. I’ve been thinking about her all evening.”

He stood on the other side of the bar and told her in detail what they’d gone through since this morning. His mother fought the doctors and nurses all the way, but they did their job. She had a break in her hip and hairline fractures just below the knee.