Heartsong Cottage (12 page)

“What's the name of it?”

She pursed her full lips. “Hyper something something. Three words run together.”

“Can you remember the exact name? I'm very interested.”

“That's a strange thing to be interested in.”

“I'm writing a novel. Having a recurring fever could come in very handy for my plot.”

“Oh. That's cool. Let me think a moment. I recall the three words … hyper … and hmm … something that made me think of vaccines.” She snapped her fingers. “I remember. Let me see if I can get this right. Hyperimmunoglobulin and there's a letter at the end. A, D, or C or E, I believe. Sounds like something a weight-loss doctor would give you, doesn't it?”

It took all of Shannon's discipline not to whip out her phone and Google it right then. “It sounds serious.”

“Daniel says there is nothing to do but take aspirin and wait it out. I feel terrible because he feels so horrible, and my son had his little accident with the pain reliever.”

“The bottle of acetaminophen is with the first-aid kit. I'm happy to send it home with you for Daniel.”

“Thank goodness. Maybe if he's resting easier, my son and I will be able to get some sleep.”

That comment struck Shannon as something less than what a loving wife would make, but then, she had reason to know that the marriage had cracks in it, didn't she? She wondered if this woman knew her husband had cheated? She wondered if she was a cheater, herself.

Don't go there, Shannon. You'll do yourself no favors wondering about the state of affairs—literal and otherwise—where that marriage is concerned.

It's not like she would want Daniel if he were free. She had enough trouble in her life as it was, thank you very much.

She stole a sidelong look at the woman walking beside her. She was fashion-model gorgeous with sharp cheekbones, a squarish jaw, and big green eyes. Something about her looked vaguely familiar. Could she be a model? “I'm sorry. Did you mention your name the other day?”

“Oh. Maybe not. I'm Linda.”

Yes, but what's your last name?
Something-hyphen-Garrett? Or maybe she didn't use his name at all.
It doesn't matter. It's not your concern.

“Oh, that's right.” She couldn't stop herself from adding, “You remind me of someone, but I can't put my finger on just who.”

Linda's smile momentarily froze before she airily said, “You must be a catalogue shopper. Maybe you saw me wearing flannel shirts from L.L. Bean?”

I knew it!
“That could be it.” Except, she didn't shop catalogues.

Linda pressed on. “I'm so glad you were here. I didn't know where else to go for help. Daniel won't be happy that we hiked over the mountain to beg drugs for him, but he'd be furious if I left our place on my own in search of a store. I'd surely get lost—he doesn't have a GPS in his truck—but he's just so pitiful.”

“I'm pitiful, too, Mom,” the boy declared. “My knee hurts. My elbow hurts.”

“I'm sorry. Yes, yes, you are pitiful, too, poor baby.”

It was the first of a litany of complaints the child made over the next few minutes while Shannon retrieved the first-aid kit and handed it to his mother so she could tend to his injuries. When Linda sprayed the cut with antiseptic lotion, the boy began to cry. “Shush, now, honey.”

Instead of shushing, the boy wound up to a wail. “Son, please.”

“It hurts!”

“I know. Crying won't make it feel better.”

“It makes me feel better.”

Linda frowned at her son, then turned her own teary eyes toward Shannon. “He's not ordinarily so cranky, but it's been a long few days. I've been short-tempered and he's tired. We're both just so tired.” An unhappy smile flitted across her lips before she added, “I'm pregnant.”

Shannon's inadvertent gasp was drowned out by the boy's whine. “I
am
tired, Mommy. I need to go to the bathroom. I don't want to climb the mountain to go back. Can we stay here?”

“No!” Shannon burst out, the reaction as basic as any she'd ever experienced. She needed Daniel's wife and stepson out of Papa Bear, away from her little valley, gone from her side of the mountain—as fast as possible.

Pregnant. She's pregnant. Daniel's wife is pregnant, too!

“I can't walk another step!” the boy insisted.

Shannon could tell that he meant it. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

“We'll sit down and rest for a little bit before we start back,” Linda said.

“No!” Shannon blurted. Linda drew back, obviously surprised by Shannon's rudeness. “I'll drive you.”

Gratitude gleamed in Daniel's pregnant wife's smile and beautiful green eyes. “Oh, that would be wonderful, but I hate to put you out. I think it's a long way by road. Honestly, I don't even know how to get there.”

“I do.” Shannon had looked up the route to the box canyon after the encounter with Daniel beside the waterfall. Shannon grabbed up the bottle of acetaminophen and pointed toward a door. “The bathroom is through there. I'll go pull the truck up.”

Shannon fled, her mind spinning.
Oh, jeeze. Oh, jeeze. Oh, jeeze. Could this situation get any more bizarre?

She's pregnant. I'm pregnant. Daniel's going to be a double-dip father.

My baby has a sibling. I wonder which child will be older?
A semihysterical laugh bubbled from her lips. What if the babies were born on the same day? They'd be like twins! What's that saying … a brother from another mother?

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she made her way to the garage at Mama Bear where she'd left the truck. She wanted nothing more than to speed away from the work site—alone—and head for home where she would climb into her bed and pull the covers over her head and pretend this was all a bad dream.

Daniel Garrett, you sorry sack of slime.

S
he cleared the stack of samples and supplies off her backseat so that the kid had a place to sit, then climbed behind the wheel and started the truck. In an effort to discourage small talk, she turned on the radio before she pulled up in front of Papa Bear. The front door opened and Linda and her son walked out onto the front porch. For just a moment, the angle of the sun bathed Daniel's little family in a sunbeam, lighting them up.

Why did the men in her life invariably let her down?

Please, let my baby be a girl.

Linda buckled her son into the backseat before joining Shannon in the front seat of the passenger cab. Her eyes shone with gratitude as she smiled and said, “Thank you so much for doing this. I admit I wasn't looking forward to the trek back over the mountain, either. It's not far, but the trail from the waterfall to here has some steep sections I wasn't anxious to make again.”

“Why don't you close your eyes and rest,” Shannon suggested. “You can get in a nice nap in the time it will take us to get to the canyon.”

“I don't want to be rude.”

“Nonsense. Please, sleep.”
Please!

Linda glanced back over her shoulder where Benny already showed signs of drifting off and smiled gratefully. “I'll do that.”

Thank goodness.

Her passengers both drifted off almost immediately and Shannon switched the satellite radio station to a country channel because it suited her mood, but when a Patsy Cline song came on, she muttered a curse and changed to news radio.

The winding, twisting, and narrow state of the mountain road leading to the canyon proved to be a blessing since it required her attention and gave her something to think about instead of the turmoil churning inside her over this latest emotional bombshell. If she thought about her personal situation right now, she didn't think she'd be able to hold back the tears. Blubbering in front of Linda and her son would be the cherry on top of today's humiliation.

Determined to delay her tears and concerns for the future until at least the return drive to Three Bears, Shannon kept her focus on the road immediately and literally before her. Mostly, anyway. She couldn't help but be aware of her passengers to some extent. She tried not to hear the little boyish snuffles coming from the backseat or notice the subtle floral fragrance drifting from the seat beside her. What sort of woman put on perfume to go hiking through the woods, anyway?

A beautiful, pregnant, catalogue-model, sophisticated city woman. That's who.

Thirty minutes after leaving Shannon's work site, Linda stirred. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up.

“Feel better?” Shannon asked, keeping her voice soft. She didn't want to wake the boy.

“A little, yes. I don't remember being this exhausted when I carried Benny. It must be the stress of … the trip.”

“Why don't you try to sleep a little more? We still have a ways to go.”

Linda glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping son, then settled back against her seat and closed her eyes. “I think I will.”

Shannon drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and tried to think about her grocery list. She needed eggs and milk, and she kept forgetting to buy paper towels. She was totally out of paper towels.

And, she should buy tissues. Boxes and boxes of tissues—to wipe her eyes and blow her nose during the pity party she intended to throw for herself at the soonest opportunity.

Fifty minutes after leaving the Three Bears, she reached the entrance to the box canyon just as rain began to fall in sheets. The truck bounced over the rough dirt road and twice hit potholes big enough to rattle her teeth. To Shannon's total surprise, the jarring motion failed to awaken either of her passengers. Neither did they stir when she pulled up in front of the two-story cabin and switched off the motor. Finally, she said, “Linda?”

The woman didn't stir.

Shannon sighed and spoke louder. “Linda? We're here.”

Slowly, she sat up. “Where … oh. Yes.” She groaned softly, then said, “I can't thank you enough for your kindness. I don't know that Benny and I would have made it if we'd had to hike back. We both were more tired than I realized when we started out. And we'd have been miserable in the rain.”

Benny was a cute name for a boy. Wonder what they plan to name the baby?

“Glad to help,” Shannon replied.
Now, please get out of my truck so that I can fall apart.

Linda unbuckled her seat belt, opened the passenger door, then slid out. After opening the back passenger door, she shook her son awake and attempted to assist him from the truck. He let out a wail. “My knees hurt! Carry me, Mommy!”

“Okay. Okay.”

“And it's raining. I don't want to get wet. It's cold.”

“I'll go as fast as I can.”

As Linda started to slip her arms beneath her son, Shannon spied the medicine bottle on the seat where the other woman had been sitting. She handed it back over the seat. “Wait. Don't forget the acetaminophen.”

“I'm such a ditz.” Linda slipped the bottle into the side pocket of the windbreaker she wore, then picked up her son, and carried him toward the house. As she stepped up onto the porch, the bottle of medicine slipped out of her pocket and landed on the rain-soaked ground.

Shannon waited for her to notice, but Linda never looked back. “Not my problem,” Shannon murmured.

Raindrops pounded the white plastic bottle.

Upstairs, a light switched on. Shannon put her truck in gear and moved her foot off the brake pedal. Daniel's wife would realize she'd dropped the bottle at some point. The pills wouldn't be ruined. They'd be fine.

Shannon gave the truck a little gas and it began to roll. “Not my problem,” she repeated.

Just before she slammed her foot on the brake and muttered a curse.

Sighing, she put her truck in park, switched off the motor, then dashed out into the rain. She scooped up the bottle and bounded up the front porch steps. Linda had left the door slightly ajar, so Shannon pushed it open and stepped inside. “Hello?”

She heard Benny wailing upstairs.

But it was the sound emanating from the room off to her right that sent a chill running down her back. It was a cry of anguish. A wounded howl of pain. A name.

“Justin!”

Daniel's hoarse, tortured voice cried, “Please, God, no. No. No. No. My boy. My little boy.”

Drawn by a force she had no will to resist, Shannon walked toward the room where Daniel lay.

*   *   *

Fever dreams.

Pumpkins.

God, he hated pumpkins.

And blueberries. Baskets of freshly picked blueberries. “Your teeth are blue, Justin.”

The smile as big and bright as the sun. “I'm blue like Cookie Monster. I'm Blueberry Monster.”

“Eat too many more and you'll be Bellyache Monster.”

Two little hands raised, blue-stained fingers bent into claws. “Grrr.”

Fever dreams.

The pumpkin patch after harvest. Brown and barren and dotted with rotting gourds.

Two little hands raised, fingers bent into claws.

A stranger's voice on the phone. “… child predator arrested in Pennsylvania … hit on DNA evidence from fingernail scrapings. Detective Garrett, we have a name.”

Little hands. Little claws.

Pulling on a baseball mitt. “It's perfect! Thanks, Dad!”

The crack of a wooden bat hitting a baseball. “It's coming our way. Help me catch it, Dad. Help me catch it!”

Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. Daddy, help me! Daddy, help me! He's hurting me. Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!

Fever dreams.

Find him. I have to find him.