Authors: Cara Ellison
Aimee tried to keep up with everything the agents were saying, tried to answer their questions, but the confusion and worry over Mark kept sidelining her thought process. Not to mention the intimidation she felt with all the agents hovering around her.
“Do you know Jane Flowers?”
The question was so unexpected that she only blinked at them.
“Jane Flowers? Do you know her? Have you ever visited the Flowers Vintage Shop?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Did you purchase anything in her shop?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Kevin, do you mind?” Another agent cut in. “She’s stressed…”
The agent backed off.
“I’m Guy Theriot. I investigate plane crashes. I believe you were on Flight 134.”
She looked into his brown eyes, and was surprised to find kindness there. “I was,” she said. It felt freeing to have no secrets left.
“You walked away. Why?”
“I had taken some money from my ex-boyfriend, and I was scared of him finding out where I am.”
“Miss Baxter, that money is counterfeit. Did you know that?”
She sat in stunned silence for a moment. Finally she shook her head. “No.”
“Yesterday, Jane Flowers was arrested when she attempted to deposit some cash from her shop into her bank account. That’s how we found you. You’ve been passing bad money all over Spanner.”
Of all the nasty things she’d credit to Seth – murder, extortion, blackmail – she’d overlooked counterfeiting. She felt the whole world crack at that moment. She’d fled with stolen fake cash. All that freedom she’d been dreaming about… it had been paid for using counterfeit money.
Shame and exhaustion washed over her. The money, like her inability to leave Seth, had been an illusion. The only honest thing she’d done in years was try to leave him.
She wilted.
“Is Jane okay? Is she still in jail?”
“No, she has been released. But Carrie Graham and Larissa Jenkins are still talking to the Secret Service.”
“They are absolutely innocent,” she said with sudden passion. “I am at fault. I was spending the money… they just happened to have shops…”
The surgery doors swung open and a doctor walked out. Aimee instinctively stood up, eager for news. “Aimee Baxter?” he called out.
“Can this wait?” Aimee asked Theriot. “I think the only urgent thing I must tell you is that Seth is at Starlight Resort right now.” She began to say something about Carlos, but held her tongue.
“We can talk after you speak to the doctor.”
“He’s going to be fine,” the surgeon said. “He’s got a few broken ribs, and a punctured spleen, but he’ll live.”
Aimee melted against the wall. Relief flooded through her. “Can I see him?”
“Just for a few minutes,” the doctor said. He pointed her down the corridor.
Aimee wondered at the weird cosmic twist that brought her to this position, walking down the hallway to the room that Mark had walked two months ago. It seemed like years ago. So much had happened.
She eased open the door and peeked her head in. Mark was lying on his back, his eyes slit open. He smiled faintly when he saw her.
She smiled back and came to his bedside. “How are you?” She took his hand.
“Okay, I guess. Seth got my spleen.”
“I know,” she whispered. She didn’t trust her voice. Didn’t trust that she wouldn’t burst into tears.
“It’s funny, isn’t it? You had broken ribs and a lacerated spleen when I found you…”
“And now you do.”
He squeezed her hand. “You did good up there, Aimee.”
She shook her head, sudden tears coming to her eyes. She had thought she was too tired for tears, but apparently she had an infinite capacity for them.
“Is he dead?”
“No,” she said. “He’s up at the resort with that guy. And the money was fake. Seth counterfeited it to pay that guy. That guy was apparently setting up some blackmail for Seth.” She shook her head, not understanding any of it.
“Crazy,” he said softly, with a weak, drugged up smile that made her heart crack.
Aimee heard footsteps marching up the hallway and then pause outside the door. A sharp knock followed.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Aimee gasped. Kimberly stood in the doorway. She had not seen her sister in two years and it took a moment to really take her in, believe that it was really her. “Oh my gosh,” she moaned, and rushed to hug her.
She hugged her hard, giving up the fight to hold back her tears. After a moment, she pulled back. “What are you doing here?”
“Long story,” Kimberly said. “Seth came to our house to find you… I had to get here before he did… the news in town was that there had been a shoot out at Mark Spanner’s ranch and I put it together to find you here.”
Grabbing her wrist, she pulled her to Mark’s bedside. “This is Mark.”
“How are you feeling?” Kimberly asked.
“Great. I’m alive.”
Kimberly smiled gently, and looked to Aimee. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ll wait for you outside.”
After she left and they were left along again, Mark smiled at her again with a kind, sad smile that sent an dagger of pain to her heart.
“You’re heading to Portland,” he said.
She looked down at her hands in her lap and nodded. Tears dripped off her cheeks and her throat shook with agony. “You are the right guy,” she whispered. “The best guy. But…”
“You want to experience the world.”
She nodded.
“Experience it, sweetheart. Enjoy every minute of your life.”
“You aren’t angry with me?”
“Angry? No.” He shook his head. “I love you. And when you love someone, you want them to have the best possible life they can. I told myself I would not hold you back, no matter how I feel. And I plan to keep my promise.”
“I love you too, you know.”
“I know.”
Pain gripped her heart, sucking, awful. There was suddenly nothing else to say.
“I should sleep now,” Mark said.
She nodded, thankful for him offering an excuse for her to go cry her heart out in peace.
She bent over him, kissed his forehead, then his lips. She lingered at his lips. Then she left.
Twenty
On the large island table in the kitchen, Mark Spanner unfurled the architecture plans for the Resort at Starlight Lake. The artist rendering was dazzling, an almost photographic representation of his and Aimee’s vision of raw timber and glass elegance. She’d been right about the pitched roof, he saw; it did echo the peaks of the mountains in a very pleasing way.
The aerial view of the complex was a little daunting. It was going to be a serious, major investment. It was too late for second thoughts. The loans were in place, the contractors were lined up. It was all set to go. He would need to hire a company to manage it, but that had been pushed onto the back burner. His time had been eaten up at the clinic. It seemed everyone in town was coming down with a winter cold. A few grisly fishing injuries kept the work interesting. After McKinsey retired, Mark took over the practice and hired two new doctors – a full time pediatrician and another family doctor. He’d also hired two new nurses.
Life had been busy since summer, just as he liked it. It helped keep thoughts of Aimee at bay, though never he was never entirely successful. It seemed like he was always trying to forget something, he realized wryly. First it was his life at the Salt Pit in Afghanistan, and now it was the sensual, sweet memories of Aimee Baxter that vexed him, woke him in the middle of the night, leaving him smarting with that searing, insatiable missing.
May seemed to miss her too. She spent the first few weeks sleeping on the guest bed where Aimee had spent her convalescence. Now she just seemed as listless as her master.
He looked down at her on the kitchen floor, watching him. She slowly began to wag her tail. “It’s not so bad,” he said aloud. “It’s very peaceful here without her, don’t you think?”
That was what he told himself. But it didn’t soothe the empty ache in his heart. The years before Aimee felt like useless playacting, empty of significance. He could not let that happen again. He wanted to believe that happiness was still possible. In some ways it was. He did enjoy his work at the clinic. His psyche, and sense of karma, was soothed somewhat by providing excellent medical care to the citizens of Spanner.
He hoped Aimee was happy, out there in the evergreens of Portland. He could imagine her teaching her yoga and pilates classes, spending time with her sister… possibly dating?
No. He didn’t dare imagine that. There was no reason to torture himself. The very thought made him sick.
He ached for news about her. A text, email, phone call. But she had not reached out to him at all. He hadn’t reached out to her because he flatly refused to become another man in her life who refused to let her live her life.
It was more loving to give her the freedom she craved.
He forced his attention back to the project in front of him, skimming the description at the bottom of the aerial rendering of the Resort at Starlight Lake complex:
Set on seventy acres of natural terrain, The Resort on Starlight Lake stands at the doorway of Jubilee Canyon, surrounded by towering peaks known for inspiring the mind, body and spirit.
He pushed it aside and found the blueprints. It really was going to be amazing. The current structure was going to be razed next month, during the first week of the New Year. The new foundation would be poured in February, with the grand opening planned the following year.
The peaceful silence of the house was suddenly interrupted when May lifted her head and let loose with a shrill bark that sounded almost painful. “You okay, girl?” he asked. Outside the window, he spotted a Chrysler sedan making slow progress to his driveway.
There had been very few visitors lately; the frequent snow squalls sent most citizens hunkering down in the warm confines of their homes. Probably some lost tourist, he figured. Or, god forbid, some medical emergency.
Aimee slowed the rented Chrysler on the road that led to Mark’s house. It was different than the last time she’d seen it. It was now the winter wonderland she had visualized the first time she saw it. Roof covered in snow, with snow-dipped Aspens out front, the sky a bleak soft gray. There was only one horse grazing in the paddock. Judging by the middling size and the beautiful coloring, that was Miss America. She had grown so much, Aimee realized with a little flutter in her heart.
She was afraid of Mark’s enigmatic silence. Afraid to speculate on what the silence meant. She had hoped he might send her a message to let her know he had recovered and was fine, but there was nothing. For a very long time, there was nothing.
Oh how she missed him.
She drove the Chrysler into the drive and turned it off. Be strong, she ordered herself, and stepped out. The wicked Montana wind gusted at her, fulfilling the promise of that winter wonderland.