Читать книгу A Killing Frost - Hannah Alexander - Страница 14

D oriann’s lungs felt filled with the hot glue Aunt Renee used for the homeschool art projects. From behind the bush that didn’t hide anything, she watched the two creeps approach. They looked bigger and scarier than they had in the truck.

They were mad, for one thing. Both kinds of mad—crazy mad and angry mad. And they shouted at each other while they called for her. How stupid. As if she was going to answer them? Run to them through the trees like a lost puppy?

Strange, all that brush had seemed so much thicker when she was trying to push through it. Now, with the sun higher, it seemed that she could see for miles in every direction. Which meant, so could the goons.

Clancy stepped around a tree branch, and looked in Doriann’s direction. Toast. She was—

Deb swore loudly. “You just had to go after the dog, didn’t you? Swerve off the road and nearly get us all killed. I guess you know she’s gonna find the cops and lead them straight to us.”

Clancy turned an ugly look on Deb. “That stupid kid’s not even gonna find her own way out of this jungle.”

“You’d better hope not,” Deb muttered. “If that frost hits tonight, we could all freeze to death.”

“What frost?”

“Don’t you ever listen to the weather report? There’s supposed to be a killing frost tonight that could wipe out all this year’s crops. Where do you live, in a tree stump? The kid could freeze to death.”

“Then that’ll be one more problem we don’t have to deal with. I’ve got enough to worry about. I’m soaking, I’m starved, and I need a hit.”

Deb swore again. She did a lot of that. “You think you’re the most important person in the world?”

Doriann saw their heads appear more clearly over some bushes as they drew closer. She saw Clancy give Deb that ugly look again. Deb was too stupid to back away.

He grabbed her by her shirt with one hand and socked her in the face with the other. Doriann heard the smack of flesh, Deb’s low grunts. “I’m the only person in the world.” Clancy growled the words like a mad dog.

Doriann caught her breath. There was a fiend in that man, and for once, Deb apparently agreed with her. She said nothing.

“All the rest are slobs and morons who don’t deserve to live,” he said.

Doriann cringed.

He shoved Deb to the ground. She grunted again, and stayed where she was. Maybe she wasn’t as stupid as Doriann had thought.

“Well, this slob plans to live whether I deserve it or not.” Deb didn’t sound so sure of herself now. Her voice shook a little. “I need a place to crash and I need it soon. We can’t sleep in the truck now that you’ve decided it would make a good submarine.”

“It’s my truck, isn’t it?” Clancy snapped, his voice still hard and dark.

Deb slowly got to her feet, then walked in the other direction. “No, it’s a stolen truck.”

“It’s mine now,” Clancy called after her. “I can do what I want with my things, just like I can do what I want with you, and with the kid. Out here in these woods, there ain’t nothing you can do about it. I’m going to find little Dori, and then her self-righteous daddy’s going to be sorry he tried to ruin my life.”

Doriann couldn’t breathe. She felt like a hardening clay model, ready for the kiln. Deb wasn’t looking as scary right now. Sure, she looked as if she ate kids for breakfast—but that couldn’t be true, because she was too skinny. And her teeth were too bad.

“Did you see that old abandoned barn a couple of miles up the road before you ran us off?” Deb called over her shoulder.

“I didn’t run us off the road, you and the kid did that. I was doin’ fine till you grabbed the wheel.”

Deb stopped suddenly, and Doriann froze as the woman turned facing directly toward her. But she didn’t look up. She sat down on a fallen log. “I’m going to crash. We need to find a place. That barn would—”

“You can’t.”

Deb didn’t look at him. Instead, she spread her hands out and studied them. Scraggly strands of blond hair fell into her face, mingling with the blood on her cheek.

“You’re not forgetting what the brat said, are you?” he asked. “There’s stuff in the area, and I’d bet she knows who has it. We won’t have to crash if we can—”

“I don’t see her anywhere, do you?”

Without warning, Clancy stalked over to Deb and grabbed her by her shirt again, jerking her up. “Get out there and start looking.”

Doriann shrank as small as she could get, and prayed harder than she ever had in her life.

After moving in with the Mercers at the age of fifteen, Jama had developed a special ability to sense when Fran was going to become serious and initiate a mother-daughter talk. That sense had never disappeared, and as she and Fran hit a straight stretch in the road, Jama felt one of those little talks in the air. Maybe Jama was alerted by the way Fran glanced at her every few seconds. The wonderful, strong, loving woman could speak volumes through her silence.

“You’re handling everything so well,” Fran said. “And in spite of what I said, I’m truly glad you insisted on coming with me.”

“So am I. It would have been hard to stay in River Dance today, waiting for a phone call, wondering about the results of the chest X-ray.”

Fran gave the barest shake of her head. “You know I’d have called you first thing.”

“So now there’s one less phone call you’ll have to make.”

They rode in silence a few more moments, and Jama relaxed enough to admire the dazzling light of the morning sun illuminating the pale green of new spring foliage, the white blossoms of dogwoods and the magenta of redbud trees. How many times over the past fifteen years had she longed to leave the classroom or the hospital and drive to the river, perhaps park at a Katy Trail lot and just walk for miles, maybe rent a bike and ride until she was far from everything and everyone?

Of course, it was impossible to run or bike far enough.

Fran rested her hand on Jama’s arm. “Other than this morning’s events, how do you feel about being back in town?”

Here it came. “I haven’t had time to decide.”

“You had time to think about it before coming.”

Jama flexed her hands on the steering wheel. “Why think about it? I had no choice. I couldn’t pay back the loan, not with all my other outstanding school debts.” Sometimes she felt as if she’d never get out from under. She had to admit to herself that Tyrell had done the right thing for her.

“You didn’t want to come?”

Jama hesitated.

“You have a home and a life in River Dance, if you’ll accept it, Jama. You’ve succeeded, just the way you and Amy dreamed you both would. That’s in spite of the odds against you, which weren’t your making.”

“I can’t blame anyone else for my behavior in high school, the drinking, running away from home, experimenting with drugs, vandalizing the school.”

“You did not vandalize the school,” Fran chided, conveniently ignoring the other self-recriminations that were right on target. “You simply climbed a tree with branches that were too slender to hold your weight. I don’t think breaking tree branches on school grounds constitutes vandalism.”

“The principal did, and it’s on my school records.” Besides, Jama had been drunk at the time.

“Nobody pays any attention to those records.”

“Except for scholarship boards.”

For a moment, Fran was quiet. Jama searched her mind for another topic to redirect this mother-daughter talk.

Tyrell, the stereotypical, high-achieving elder son, had earned a full scholarship to Columbia. He had been confident and strong from the cradle, it seemed, and yet he possessed a serene humility that drew people to him like birds to the Vignoles grapes on the Mercer Ranch hillside. He’d been the only Mercer sibling who’d already left for college when Jama came to live with the family, and though he’d always been affectionate with his kid sister’s best friend, Jama had never felt sisterly toward him.

Daniel, the second son, had sown his wild oats for about six months his junior year of high school, gotten it out of his system, and qualified for a scholarship, as well.

Heather and Renee, the twins, had surprised everyone. Inseparable through high school, they had pursued decidedly different careers. Heather and her husband, Mark Streeter, were both in the cardiothoracic surgery residency program in Kansas City. Renee, homeschooling mother of four, had completed two years of college, then pursued her lifelong dream of being a wife and mother with a large family. She even mothered Heather and Mark’s daughter, Doriann, while they worked their long hours at the hospital. Renee was a natural nurturer.

“Your kids have always been so encouraged to succeed,” Jama said. “You and Monty helped them follow their dreams. What a difference that makes in a kid’s life.”

“We’re so glad that Tyrell chose to follow in his father’s footsteps,” Fran said.

“He always loved the ranch. The rest of us chafed at the chores, but he really loved the work.”

“Yes, he did, but one reason Tyrell decided to return to River Dance and take over the ranch was because he knew you’d be here,” Fran said.

Jama glanced at Fran, then braced herself. Here it came again. “He told you that?”

“Didn’t have to. I’m his mother. Besides, he isn’t a hard man to read. I think you’ve probably developed that skill, as well.”

“There’s no way he would have quit his job at the university extension center just because I’d be here. We talked about it, and he wanted to come back, anyway. He loves the ranch.”

“He’s always loved the ranch, but can you tell me why else his arrival back home would coincide with the arrival of a certain young, beautiful doctor?”

Jama couldn’t answer that. She hadn’t asked him to come back.

“So things might become a little awkward now,” Fran said with a slight lift in her voice. It was a gentle question.

“Nope.”

From the corner of her eye, Jama could see Fran watching her.

“Not just a little?” Fran asked.

“Not at all. We’re both adults, and we know how to handle ourselves with maturity and grace. Or at least, Tyrell does.”

“You’re not going to give up information easily, are you?” Fran asked. “What’s going on between you two?”

“At this moment, we’re both focused on Monty.”

“Jama.”

“Nothing awkward, we’re both just concerned about something more important.”

“You know what I mean. What happened between you two that Tyrell won’t talk about to anyone?”

“Tyrell proposed, I didn’t accept. End of story.”

There was a brief silence, then Fran said, “I find that hard to believe, sweetie. That it’s the end of the story, I mean.”

“It’s true. It’s difficult to talk about, and I know it hurt Tyrell as much as it hurt me.”

“Are you telling me the crush you’ve had on him all these years didn’t evolve?” Fran asked.

Jama suppressed a sigh. Growing up, Jama never could conceal her feelings, and certainly not from Amy and Fran. “It’s me, Fran. It isn’t Tyrell’s fault that I’m not ready for the commitment of marriage.”

“For goodness’ sake, you’re thirty-two, my dear. When will you be ready?”

“Some people never are. I may be one of those people.”

The silence swelled inside the car as Fran waited for further explanation. None came.

“Oh, honey,” Fran said with a sigh. “If you’re afraid of marriage because of your poor mother, then you can rest assured that you aren’t going to do what she did.”

Jama cast her a brief glance. “How can you know that?”

“Why, look at you. You’re the age she was when she left, and you’ve had the strength to make a success of your life. You’re steady and dependable. I know you still have regrets, but don’t we all? You’ve got to look forward to the life waiting for you, not backward.”

“Dad never told me much about Mom’s departure. He only said that she was sick and not able to be the mother I needed.”

“I remember the day Amy brought you home with her after school.”

Jama nodded. The memories of that time were branded on her mind, too. Everything in her life had changed in one afternoon when she was seven.

For years, she’d had nightmares about arriving home that day to find all the doors locked. She’d shouted and screamed and pounded to get in. Then she’d caught sight of her mother’s face in the window, just watching her. Cold and remote. Later, Jama had heard her mother tell her father that she didn’t want to be a mother anymore.

Amy had found Jama that day outside the house. Jama remembered walking beside Amy down the long lane to the Mercer home. She remembered seeing later in Amy’s bedroom mirror that smudges of dirt and tears had been streaked across her face.

How was a second-grader supposed to understand the dark world of the adult mind? Jama understood mental illness now, but she still wondered about her role in creating her mother’s sadness, and she still felt the pain of abandonment.

Fran touched Jama’s shoulder. “My dear, something tells me this chapter in your life isn’t quite over yet. Give it some time. And thought. And give it a lot of prayer. Whatever is standing in your way with Tyrell affects your entire future.”

Jama swallowed hard.

“And when you look forward,” Fran said, “I suspect you’ll see Tyrell as an important part of it.”

Jama grimaced.

“Okay, sorry, honey. This is a conversation you should be having with him, not his mother. I cannot imagine a better match than the two of you.”

Jama could easily imagine just such a thing.