Restoring Hope (34 page)

When she’d tried to enter her Jeep, Kat had pulled in beside her and confronted her. She’d blamed her for tearing her family apart and wanted her to leave town. Hope had laughed of course, not reading the look in Kat’s eyes. If she’d paid closer attention, she would’ve seen the woman was on the edge. When Hope laughed, Kat had lost it, and produced a gun from her pocket then jammed it into her ribs instructing Hope to get into Kat’s car. She’d complied, afraid to fight her, and after several hours of circling the city, while Kat blamed her for everything from the breakup of her marriage to her daughter’s overdose she’d driven home. Kat said she was hungry and needed somewhere she could think, to plan what to do with Hope. With the gun pointed at Hope’s head until they exited the car, she reminded Hope she was raised in Georgia and running would be pointless—ladies of the south had deadly aim don’t ya know.

With her fingers curled tightly around the wooden arms of Kat’s dining room chair, she wondered what Nic was doing. She figured he’d be frantic by now assuming that John Cummings had rolled into town and taken her. She imagined he had the police searching, unfortunately for her; they were searching for the wrong person. She closed her eyes and thought back to that morning. Nic was in his suit as she’d stood at the kitchen counter making coffee for them both. She’d remembered she needed to go to the doctor to get her birth control shot and had made a quick call for an appointment before work. She’d never gotten the chance to tell Nic about her appointment, she’d been too preoccupied with his mouth. When he’d walked into the kitchen and seen her in a short nightgown, he’d walked up behind her, pressed her into the counter as he pulled the strap off her shoulder. Then he’d buried his head in her neck as his hand came up and wrapped around her breast. It had taken her less time to get his clothes off than it had taken him to put them on, and the memory was so sweet to her now.

He’d given her so much, much more than he even knew, and she prayed she’d live to tell him. He was her white knight, like the men she read about in romance novels. She never thought they existed, was sure they were figments of some writer’s imagination until he’d swooped in and forced himself into her heart, into her very soul. Now she was at the mercy of his ex-wife, and if she weren’t so fucking scared she would have laughed at the irony—she was in her own romance novel gone wrong.

Hope was hungry, tired, and thirsty, and she wasn’t about to ask for a thing. She kept her eyes on the gun, her tongue in her mouth, and prayed to God she could figure out what to say to this woman. Kat turned to her suddenly and looked her from top to bottom, a sneer playing across her lips.

“Whore,” she hissed and Hope bit her lips in anger. Scared or not, Hope still had a temper even after all those years of being slapped around, and she had a tiny scar on her bottom lip to prove she could be flippant. So, she bit her lips harder to keep from lashing out.

Kat looked around searching for something until she spotted her purse. She moved to it and brought it to the table, laying down her gun and pulling out her checkbook and uncapping her Visconti pen.

“Name your price,” Kat asked Hope, her words clipped.

“What?” Hope asked.

“You’re nothing but a money grubbing two-bit slut. Name your price and I’ll write a check,” Kat explained but she looked on edge, desperate for a solution to her problem.

“You want to pay me to leave?”

“You’re only after Nic’s money,” she shouted like the crazy woman she was. Hope jumped at her anger and visible hatred for her, and looked towards the gun she’d laid on the table. Hope started to lift her hand to grab it, but Kat dropped her checkbook and pen when she saw the movement and snatched the gun up, rage morphing her face into something terrifying.

“Don’t move,” Kat bit out aiming the gun at Hope’s head, holding Hope’s eyes in place as her heart pounded out of her chest. Then, as if she’d forgotten something, Kat moved away from Hope, her attempted bribery forgotten, her mental state sinking further into madness as she paced again.

Usually the poster child for the sophisticated woman, Kat looked like she hadn’t bathed in days. Her hair was a tangled mess its shine gone and her clothes looked like she’d slept in them. Hope wouldn’t have recognized her if they’d passed on the street, and coupled with her behavior, it terrified her. She’d never seen someone have a nervous breakdown, but she was pretty sure she was watching one unfold before her eyes. The once beautiful woman, full of attitude and her own self-importance had disappeared. What Hope was now faced with was an on the brink, out of control, sociopath. Kat didn’t care that she was hurting anyone she only cared about her own needs. Unfortunately, it was clear the consequences of her past actions and losing her daughter had her on the threshold of murder.

Hope sat glued to her chair, her eyes following Kat as she became further lost in her own world. She kept talking to herself, trying to work through what she needed to do with Hope.

“I’m not gonna lose my family to a whore, she needs to go away, how do I make her go away?” Stopping for a moment, as if an idea popped into her head, she whispered, “Maybe I should call momma.”

She was so busy trying to figure out how to get rid of Hope; she hadn’t paid attention when Nic’s Mercedes pulled into the driveway. Hope was so busy keeping an eye on the gun that she didn’t see Nic walk up the steps, cross the porch and open the door. Kat and Hope both jumped when the door flew open and Nic roared, “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind.”

Kat was so startled when he entered, her finger already on the trigger, she squeezed it when she jumped. Hope screamed as smoke floated from the barrel of the gun and blood sprayed from Nic’s chest as he flew backwards against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Like the often-dreamt nightmare when you’re running down a hallway, but never reaching the end, Hope ran to Nic as a scream so shrill broke from her throat that a dog howled next door. Dropping to her knees, choking on her words, afraid to touch him afraid not to touch him, she threw herself on him screaming “Nic, oh, my God, Nic.”

The pressure in Nic’s chest felt like a vice grip had him in its hold, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He could sense Hope; feel her hands touching him, her tears falling on his face as she kept shouting his name. He wanted to touch her, tell her he loved her, wanted to marry her, but a light in the distance kept drawing his attention away from her.

“Nic don’t you close your eyes, do you hear me? The ambulance is one the way . . . NIC!” he heard her shout, and he tried to focus on her voice, but that damn light kept getting brighter. He opened his eyes and looked at Hope, tried to smile one last time at her, as he heard sirens coming closer, and Kat screaming, “What have I done.”

There was movement to his right, and he heard that damn Cajun accent he’d grown to love over the past seventeen years break into a caterwaul. “My boy, what have you done to my boy? Oh, sweet Jesus, don’t take my boy.”

He tried to lift his hand, but it wouldn’t move. He blinked, as the light grew brighter still and then heard the sweet voice of his
‘tite ange
. “Papa,” Chelsea spoke softly as she reached out her hand. Nic smiled when he saw his daughter’s sweet face and finally lifted his hand to reach out to her.

Hope clung to Nic, kissing his face as Big Daddy applied pressure to the gaping wound in his chest. Rose tried to pull her off him, but she wasn’t moving from his side. It was bad, she knew it was, and she was determined to fight his leaving this world.

Rose, her hands twisting repeatedly in panic, trying to make sense of how this happened, looked towards Kat. Her eyes were dead, lifeless, as she kept mumbling over and over “What have I done.” Rose wailed at her “You notin’ but evil, should be you lyin’ on da’ floor not my boy.” Turning back to Nic and Hope her breath caught when she saw Nic smiling over Hope’s shoulder and whispering “
Mon ‘tite fille.”
Rose whispered “No,” and then made the sign of the cross, knew they were losing him if his Chelsea was here to welcome him home. The need to fight for him was strong, so she kneeled down beside him as the paramedics came rushing up the steps and told Nic “You not done in dis’ world, you need to fight to stay here wit’ Hope, wit’ Nicky we cannot lose you, you hear me?”

Nic barely heard Rose’s words; he was too busy staring at the shining blonde hair of his
‘tite ange.
As the light grew brighter, Chelsea came into better focus, and with one last labored breath, Nic heard Hope scream his name as his world went dark for an instant, and then warmth and light he’d never known in his life filled him. When his eyes opened again, he stood in the embrace of his daughter; her sweet smell hit his nose, and he remembered it like it was yesterday.

Strawberries and cream her favorite shampoo.

He folded his arms around her, holding her tight as she buried her head in his chest. After more than a year, he finally had his baby in his arms.

“Papa, I missed you so much.”

“My sweet angel, papa missed you more than you know. I’ve got you now, and I won’t let go.”

“It’s too soon, Papa, you have to go back.”

“It’s where I’m supposed to be, angel.”

“Nicky still needs you,” she whispered and he paused briefly thinking about his son. If he could feel any pain it would have killed him to think about Nicky being alone, then he looked at Chelsea’s sweet face and knew he couldn’t leave her.

“Baby, papa’s not leaving you again,” he responded, his need to be with her greater than his need to fight to go home and he wondered why. He loved his son, would do anything for him, but the warmth and happiness he felt standing in the light with Chelsea seemed to override all his instincts.

“Hope needs you too, now more than ever,” Chelsea told him, her bright eyes seeming wiser than he remembered. Nic closed his eyes when he thought of Hope. She'd be devastated, lost, he knew that with his entire being, but Chelsea was his daughter, and she needed him more.

“She’ll have Rose,” he replied but his voice broke and he felt tightness in his chest that wasn’t there before. When he first arrived, he’d felt warmth, and now he was beginning to feel cold again.

He saw movement behind Chelsea and looked up to see his
grand-m
e
re
and
grand-pere
standing there smiling at him. Laughing in surprise at seeing them both, he moved around Chelsea and wrapped them in a hug. It had been more than fifteen years since he’d seen his grandparents.

His
grand-pere
, tall and wide like all Beuve men, but with hazel eyes, slapped him on the back and then smacked him on the head as he’d done when Nic was a child and disobeyed.

“Dis,’ not you time,” he told Nic and instead of feeling happy to see them both, he felt sick to his stomach suddenly and an electric shock jolted his chest. His back arched in pain, and he was unable to breathe, so he grabbed his
grand-pere’s
shoulder for support.

“Chelsea needs me,” Nic ground out, as the pain subsided.

“Don’t be a fool, she’s got us,” his
grand-mere
, still as feisty as he remembered and as beautiful as a spring day, shouted at him. She was tiny like Hope Nic realized, and her blonde hair had been as light as Hope's in her youth. She placed both her hands on his face and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. She whispered, “Time to go back,” as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Chelsea, concern on her face.

“Papa, you have to go before it’s too late.”

Nic shook his head, determined he wouldn’t let his daughter down again, but an electric shock hit him in the chest again, and he fell to his knees as he heard a distant voice begging him.

“I love you, please don’t leave me.”

Hope stood staring as they worked on Nic, frozen in place, watching as they pumped his chest up and down. They’d put a breathing tube down his throat, and an Ambu bag was breathing life into his body as they tried to bring him back. With each jolt of electric shock they gave his heart, Hope jumped, and an anguished cry spilled from her lips. Big Daddy held her from behind, holding her up so she wouldn’t collapse as Rose stood at her side praying to God.

Turning her eyes from the sight of Nic’s strong body lying there lifeless, she saw Kat sitting in a chair surrounded by the police as they asked her questions. She had tears running down her face as she watched the paramedic’s work on Nic. The sight of her tears, when she was at fault, struck a nerve with Hope and before she knew what she was doing, she tore her body from Big Daddy’s embrace and launched herself at Kat.

“You did this, you killed him,” she screamed as she swung her hand wide and slapped Kat across the face, bloodying her lip with her nails. Kat had been stoic until that slap, but when her head came back up she leveled a look at Hope that told her if she weren’t in police custody, she would have killed Hope.

“It should be you laying on that floor,” Kat calmly replied and then spat blood out of her mouth and onto Hope’s shoe. A police officer stuck his arm between them and told Hope to move back. Big Daddy grabbed Hope around the shoulders and pulled her into his arms. She could see the paramedic’s pick up the paddles to the defibrillator and he shocked Nic for the third time. Hope ripped herself from Big Daddy’s arms, kneeled at Nic’s feet, and then told him what was in her heart.