Redemption Road (Jackson Falls #5) (24 page)

“I’ll hazard a guess and say that this old girl isn’t going anywhere
without a tow truck.” She opened her driver’s door, checked the depth of the
snow, and closed it again. “Yep. I was right.”

“We can’t shovel it out?”

“We’re six feet down a slippery embankment. My headlights are
lighting the treetops. What do you think?  Besides, I don’t have a snow
shovel.”

“You should always carry a snow shovel. It’s a crucial piece of
your emergency kit.”

“I didn’t have much need for one in Palm Beach.”

Casey sighed. “That last house we passed…how far back was that?”

“A mile. Maybe a mile and a half.”

“Well, since I don’t want to sit here and freeze to death—”

“I guess we walk.”

The embankment was a sheet of ice. She pushed her sister upward,
lost her footing and almost did a split, and together, they slid back down the
hill. At the bottom, they lay panting in the snow. Colleen broke through the
crust of ice, fashioned a snowball of sorts from the powdery snow beneath, and
tossed it at her sister. Like some kind of low-level explosive, it
disintegrated, spraying all over Casey’s face, her coat, her hair. “If it
wasn’t so cold,” her sister said, “I’d make you pay for that.”

“But it is,” Colleen said. “Cold. Come on, we’ll walk the ditch until
we can get back up onto the road.”

It took them some time, but eventually, they made it back up onto
the icy pavement. It was dark here, dark as only rural Maine could be in winter.
No street lights, no houses, no traffic. “Where the hell are we?” Colleen said.

“I don’t have a clue. Which direction did we come from?”

“Beats me.”

“Well, then.” Casey looked right, then left. “Should we flip a
coin?”

“Since it was all your fault we went off the road, I reserve the
right to decide.”

“My fault? You’re the one who was driving.”

“You started the fight.”

“I did not,” Casey said. “You did.”

“We’re going this way.” She pointed right. “Sooner or later, if we
walk far enough, we’ll find something. This is Maine, not the Northwest
Territories.”

“I hope you’re right. Rob will be freaking. He worries all the
time.”

“He loves you. And you most certainly did start the fight.”

“I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.”

Colleen snorted. “Neither do I.”

They fell into step together, moving with caution until they reached
dry pavement. The silence between them was comfortable, the temperature
tolerable as long as they kept moving. Overhead, there were a million stars in
the sky. “I slept with Harley,” she said.

“About time.”

“I think I might be in love with him.”

“Oh?”

“Actually…I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

“Congratulations.”

“That’s all you have to say about it? Congratulations?”

“That’s not enough? If you’d like, I could ask you if the sex was
good.”

“A little personal, wouldn’t you say?”

“Between sisters? I don’t think so.”

They walked for a while in silence. “How’s the sex with you and
Rob?” she said.

“Fabulous.”

“I figured. That’s pretty much how it was with Harley.”

“There,” Casey said. “We just had a genuine sister moment. That
didn’t hurt so bad, did it?”

Another five minutes passed before she said, “I thought I’d feel
guilty. Because of Irv. You know?  But I didn’t. It just felt…right.”

“That’s how it should feel. If it doesn’t feel right, you should
run like hell in the opposite direction.”

They rounded a curve, and like an oasis in the desert, a house
appeared, its lights a welcoming glow in the darkness. “I don’t know what to do,”
she said.

“Why?”

“I’m leaving in April. How can I get involved with him when I’m
leaving in April?”

Her sister stopped walking. Said, “What the hell is wrong with
you?”

“What?”

“You’re still harping on that? Still determined to leave?” Casey
shook her head, shoved her hands into her coat pockets, turned into the
driveway and strode toward the house.

“Don’t you understand?” she shouted, slipping and sliding as she
tried to catch up with her sister’s brisk stride. “There’s nothing here for
me!”

Casey marched up the front steps and punched the doorbell. “I’m
here,” she said. “Your son is here. And Harley’s here. If that’s not reason
enough to stay, then I don’t think I’m the idiot.”

***

Saturday morning, her car was towed home by some bumpkin that AAA
had sent over. As the winch slowly lowered the Vega to the ground, he took off
his greasy cap, ran his thumbs inside the edge of it to smooth something only
he could see, and said agreeably, “You could probably get a couple hundred out
of her if you sold her for parts.”

Colleen, standing beside him, freezing, arms crossed over her
chest as she looked at what was left of her car, said, “Can it be fixed?”

“Oh, she can be fixed. She’s drivable. There’s only a few bumps
and bruises.” He returned the cap to his head. Adjusted it until it met some standard
of perfection known only to him. “The question is, why would you want to fix her?”

She thought about kicking him in the shin. Instead, she spun
around, gave her brother-in-law a dirty look, and marched into her sister’s
house.

She found Casey at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables. Paige
sat at the table, eating a bowl of cereal and listlessly thumbing through the
morning paper. Emma, in her playpen, chewed contentedly on the ear of a stuffed
polar bear. Colleen headed directly for the coffee pot, poured herself a cup,
and took a sip. Leaned against the counter and said gruffly, “Morning.”

Her sister raised both eyebrows. “Same to you.”

“How are you feeling after last night?”

“A little sore. You?”

“Same here.”  She took another sip, eyed her sister over the rim. “It
could have been a lot worse.”

“It could have.”

This was stupid. They were skirting around the big issue. The
elephant in the room. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“For everything. For being so rotten to you last night, blaming
you for all my problems. For starting a fight with you.”

Neatly slicing a green pepper, Casey said, “I thought I started
the fight.”

“I only said that because I was pissed off at you for trying to
trick me into staying here.”

“I asked you to be my business partner. That hardly qualifies as
trickery.”

“Maybe trickery’s the wrong word. How about coercion?  Or possibly
bulldozing?”

“I can’t tell you how to live your life, Colleen. You have to make
that decision on your own.”

“Thank you.”

Casey sighed. “Do you think we’ll ever agree on anything?”

“It’s not looking too promising, is it?” Her sister winced, and
Colleen lowered the cup. “Hey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a twinge. I—” Casey gasped and dropped the knife. Hands
pressed to her abdomen, she closed her eyes and leaned over the counter.

“Casey? You’re scaring me.”

“I just—oh, my God.”

“Sit! You need to sit down. Come on.” She set down the cup and
tugged at her sister’s elbow. “I’ll help you.”

“You sound like…you’re talking to..a dog.”

“Shut up and sit down!”

Her sister turned. A splotch of red bled through the front of her
cotton skirt. “No,” she said, as blood trickled down her leg and dripped onto
the floor. “This isn’t happening. Not again.”  She took a single step toward
the table before her legs gave out and she silently, almost gracefully, slithered
to the floor.

“Jesus Christ.” Colleen dropped to her knees beside her sister. “Paige,
get your father!”

When there was no response, she turned to look. The kid was
staring at her, open-mouthed, as if she couldn’t comprehend what she’d heard. “Goddamn
it,” Colleen snarled, “get your father! She’s losing the baby!”

Paige raced from the room. “My baby,” Casey moaned. “Why is this
happening to me?”

“I don’t know, hon.” Colleen stroked her sister’s hair. It was
terrifying, the amount of blood pooling on the floor between Casey’s legs. How
could one small woman lose that much blood? She’d never seen anybody hemorrhage
like this.
Help.
She needed to call for help. But they were fifteen
minutes from the hospital. At the rate she was losing blood, by the time help
arrived…

She refused to even consider the possibility. “You’re going to be
fine. Do you hear me?”

“Rob,” her sister whispered, and wet her lips. “Where’s Rob?”

“He’s coming. I hear him now.” 

She said a silent prayer of thanks as her brother-in-law’s swift footsteps
approached the kitchen. Rob took a single look and assessed the situation
instantly. “Shit,” he said. He shrugged off his coat, and without missing a
beat, strode across the room, bent, and scooped his wife up into his arms as
though she weighed nothing. Wrapping the coat around her, he said, “It’s all
right, babe. We’re going to the hospital. Paige, stay with your sister. Colleen,
the keys to the Explorer are in my right front pocket.”

As she pulled out of the driveway onto the blacktop, he said, with
quiet urgency, “I don’t know how fast you can drive without killing us, but you
might want to step on it.”

Breathing hard, she pressed the accelerator until she was
exceeding the speed limit by a good fifteen miles per hour. While she drove,
Rob rocked his wife in his arms, spoke soothing words to her, wiped away her
tears. “Oh, Flash,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“The baby. I know how excited you were.”

“There’ll be other chances. Other babies.”

“I’m bleeding all over you. All over the car.”

“And you think I care about that?”

“I’m so tired. I need to sleep.”

“You stay with me,” he ordered. “You can’t sleep now. Babe? Do you
hear me?”

Casey let out a sigh. Said weakly, “I hear you.”

He exchanged glances with Colleen. She nodded and pressed harder
on the accelerator. “Sing to me,” he said.

“Sing?” Casey’s voice was small and wispy. “What should I sing?”

Without thinking about it, Colleen began singing in her clear,
sweet alto, a song they’d learned as young girls in Sunday School at the local
Baptist church Mama had dragged them to every Sunday morning: 

When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no
more,

And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;

When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,

And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

At the chorus, her sister joined in, her voice weak, but in tune. Colleen
glanced at the speedometer and jacked up her speed again. She’d always known
that one day, all that early Baptist training would come in handy for something.
When she reached the highway, she shot toward town at the speed of light. If
there were any cops, all the better. They could use a police escort. She took
the last corner so quickly, the tires squealed. Still singing, they pulled into
the hospital parking lot. Rob opened his door and, with his wife in his arms,
raced to the emergency entrance. By the time she parked the car and ran in
behind him, her sister was already on a gurney, several nurses standing around
with worried faces, a white-coated doctor leaning over her.

“She’s lost a ton of blood,” she heard Rob say. “This happened
once before, about fifteen years ago.”

“Who’s her primary?” the doctor said.

“Dr. Klein. But Deb Levasseur’s her OB/GYN.”

“Get Deb on the phone,” he told the nurse, “then call Surgery and
have a room prepped. See if Dr. Ellington’s available. If he isn’t, then keep
calling until you find another surgeon. We don’t have time to waste.”

Casey reached up a hand and touched her husband’s face. He pressed
a kiss to her palm. “My heart,” he said, closing her fingers over it, “in your
hand. I’ll be right here waiting when you come back.”

And she was gone, whisked away through a set of doors marked STAFF
ONLY. They stood listening to the wheels of the gurney rattling until the sound
grew faint and disappeared. Then they turned and looked at each other, neither
of them sure what to do now. Rob’s pants were covered with blood, still wet and
sticky, making him look like the victim in some low-budget horror movie. His
face was chalk-white, and he was visibly trembling.

“Sit,” she told him, “before we lose you, too.” She grabbed his elbow,
steered him toward a nearby seat, and shoved him into it. “Thank God you managed
to hold it together until she was out of sight.”