Foretold, page 18
“Sure is,” the sheriff said. “Once you’re done at the hospital, we’ll take your statement at the office.” He looked back at Riley. “You can pick him up there in a few hours.”
“Will do.” That’d give her time to have a shower and maybe a longer nap. Then it’d just be the two of them. She wanted nothing more than for her and Beck to curl up together and the rest of the world to leave them alone.
“Where ya been, Denny?” someone called out. “Been playing with those dead boys’ bones?”
Beck bunched his fists but kept walking, the sheriff by his side.
A reporter got in their way. “Is he under arrest? Mr. Beck, tell us, what happened out there?”
Donovan pushed him aside. “No comment.”
By the time Riley reached the top of the ramp, the center of everyone’s attention was in the back of the ambulance. Beck gave her a nod, then lay on the stretcher. The doors swung closed. As if on cue, the crowd’s attention turned toward Riley. Two reporters were in her face and there was the constant click of camera shutters. To her surprise, Justine wasn’t in the fray, but stood some distance away, as if she were above such juvenile drama.
Questions flew their way as Riley and Simon climbed into the pickup, along with catcalls and ribald comments about what she and the wounded trapper had been doing in the swamp.
“How can they say things like that?” she demanded, slamming the passenger door.
“Because they’re idiots.” Simon fired up the truck and made sure to spin sand and gravel out of the parking lot, raising a cloud of dust that swirled around the knot of reporters, causing them to cough and shield their eyes.
Riley grinned and gave her fellow trapper double thumbs-up. “That was awesome!”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, but there was rare mischief in his eyes. “I’m not used to driving a truck.”
Riiight . . .
As they neared town, Simon caught her up on the phone call he’d made to Atlanta on the way back to Kingfisher Landing.
“Since we found Beck, Harper wants me back home tonight. I called Sam and she can take me to the bus station after I grab my stuff at the motel.”
Maybe he wasn’t finding Donovan’s niece too much of a flirt after all.
“Why do they want you back so soon?”
Please tell me there are no more zombie demons.
“Harper needs every trapper he can find, what with all the calls coming in. The hunters left yesterday so it’s all on the Guild now and there aren’t that many of us left.”
Riley felt a twinge of regret. Though she held mixed feelings about the Vatican’s team, she had wanted to say farewell to a couple of them.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “Why didn’t Rome just tell everyone what really happened at the cemetery? How close we came to the End? Maybe then they’d all get a clue and start doing things right.”
“Because not everyone is happy that the world didn’t end.”
“What? It would be a horrific thing. Zillions of people would die. Who would want that?”
“It depends on what you believe. If you’re looking forward to the Rapture and being summoned to Heaven, then you’d be disappointed when it didn’t happen and maybe angry at the one who stopped it.”
That would be me. “Are you angry?” she asked.
A frown creased Simon’s brow. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’ve learned that nothing is that clear-cut. The End of the World I believe in might not be the one that actually happens.”
Amen.
† ~ ‡ ~ †
By the time Riley had finished her shower and dressed in fresh clothes, Simon was packed and waiting to say goodbye. In the past she would have given him a kiss, but now everything had changed. She could still feel the Holy Water soaking into her clothes, hear his furious accusations. That betrayal had cut deep. Hell had drawn first blood from both of them.
Still, she owed him something. “Thank you. You saved my life the other night.”
He seemed troubled at Riley’s gratitude, which confused her.
“It’s not that simple,” he replied, then hopped inside Sam’s car like he was eager to escape.
† ~ ‡ ~ †
Riley’s plan to swoop in and collect Beck from the sheriff’s office was foiled by the one woman she’d hoped she’d never see again—Justine. Sitting at one of the deputy’s desks, the Stick Chick was in full reporter mode, notebook and tape recorder in full view. Beck sat nearby, a cup of coffee in his hand, his sore leg propped up on the seat of another chair. Someone had found him some clean clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a white cotton T-shirt. Above all, he appeared at ease, as if Justine no longer posed a threat.
Riley’s resentment immediately stirred from its fitful slumber. What was it about this woman that pushed every single one of her buttons? Ms. Armando was female antimatter in high heels and crushed silk. Though Riley worked hard to keep her expression neutral, when Beck caught her eye he smiled, as if he knew what was going on inside her head.
Yeah, I’m jealous. Just deal.
She also noted that his tone wasn’t friendly, but measured, and he answered Justine’s questions crisply and without any extra words, like he was testifying in court.
Grudgingly, she shoved the Jealousy beast back into its cage and slammed the door, denying it the power it craved to ruin her life.
“I’ll wait outside until you’re done,” she said.
Justine’s emerald eyes appraised her. “This will take some time. I’ll drive him to wherever he wishes to go once we’ve finished our interview.”
The beast howled in torment, rattling the cage’s steel bars, wanting to rend and maim.
“That work for you, Beck?” Riley asked, her jaw so tight it was difficult to speak. When he nodded, she left the pair of them behind before she did something stupid.
The instant she was in his truck, she pounded the steering wheel much like he often did, and then glowered at the building.
I go all the way into the damned swamp and save his butt, and then she swoops in.
How long would the interview take? When it was done, would they go for drinks and then . . .
The jealous howls in her mind grew frantic and only tapered to a petulant whine when she finally reached the motel.
† ~ ‡ ~ †
Ninety-eight minutes later Justine delivered Beck to the motel. Not that Riley was counting or anything. There was some brief conversation outside Beck’s hotel room, which she couldn’t really hear. Then the door to his room opened and closed. His first stop was the bathroom, then he hobbled into her room aided by a cane.
“Washing off her lipstick?” Riley asked before she could stop herself.
“Yup. Didn’t want you to get jealous or anythin’,” he shot back. Then he sank on the end of the bed. The medicine they’d used on his chest and arms had bled through the cotton T-shirt in little blue splotches. “Donovan found another undertaker willin’ to handle Sadie’s funeral. It’ll be two days from now.”
Which meant Riley needed to finish cleaning the house and get all that fingerprint dust out of the truck before then.
He continued on, oblivious to her mental list making. “Donovan’s having a press conference tonight. He’s gonna lay it all out so folks know who’s to blame.” Beck cleared his throat like he was going to say something more, then shook his head. “I need some sleep.”
“Beck . . . about Justine—”
“Don’t go there.”
A few moments later he was in his own bed. She couldn’t leave it like that, so she made her way into his room and sat next to him. His eyes opened, and then his hand trailed over to touch hers.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I was good for it,” she said. “The skank makes me crazy sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” he asked.
“All right, every time I see her I want to tear her head off. Are you happy?”
She got a lopsided grin for that admission.
“Now you know how I feel when I think of that damned angel.” His hand left hers to pull back the covers. “Stay with me until I go to sleep. Just behave yerself, you hear?” he said, a smile lightly gracing his face.
“Are you kidding? You’ve got a bad leg, you’re a mass of bug bites, and you look like a Smurf. None of that makes me hot.”
“Figured.”
She kicked off her shoes and curled in next to him. He put his arm around her. “That’s better,” Beck murmured. Less than a minute later he was sound asleep.
As Riley listened to the beat of his heart under her ear, she knew that things would never be the same between them. For the first time in her life, she was eager to see what the future would bring.
† ~ ‡ ~ †
The next day was a blur of activity. As per Beck’s instructions Riley had donated his mother’s clothes, the kitchenware, and most of the furniture. His request that she leave the sofa in the house didn’t make much sense, but she did as he asked. Sam had insisted on washing the windows while Riley scrubbed the floors. As they raced through the final few tasks, her new friend had traded texts with a certain blond apprentice trapper in Atlanta.
By nightfall everything was done, and to celebrate Riley picked up a pizza and took it to the motel. This time the restaurant owner didn’t give her any grief. In fact, he threw in a free six-pack of soda and asked how Denny was getting along.
After supper Beck was unnaturally quiet, but she didn’t push him to talk. He was trying to read his book, but she could tell his head wasn’t into it. Finally, he set it down.
“I want to stay down here a few more days.”
That was unexpected. Riley had figured he’d want to be out of this town the instant the funeral was over.
“Okay.” What else could she say?
“I’ll take you to the bus after the funeral. Jackson will pick you up at the station.”
Clearly this had all been planned out without her input.
“Some reason you’re so eager to get rid of me?” she asked, her feelings stinging a little.
“Got things to do and things to think about. Can’t do them if yer here,” he said. “We’ll talk once I get back to Atlanta.”
Talk? She was hoping for a whole lot more than that. “What’s this about?”
“Not yer concern,” he said, testily.
Now her feelings were really hurt.
“Whatever, Backwoods Boy,” she said, and retreated to her room for the night.
† ~ ‡ ~ †
The day of her father’s funeral, Beck had cooked her breakfast and driven her to the cemetery. In all ways he’d been respectful of her loss. It was Riley’s turn to show Beck that same respect. She made sure his truck was clean, inside and out, which took over an hour because of all that fine fingerprinting dust. She pressed his dress shirt, tidied his suit, and polished his shoes. He never said a word as they drove to the cemetery, but she knew he’d noticed it all.
Though the graveyard was small there were a number of people gathered near the funeral tent. Given Sadelia Beck’s reputation it was a good bet most of the attendees were just being nosy. To Riley’s relief, Deputy Martin was screening the mourners, keeping the press away.
Thank you, she mouthed as they drove by him. The cop nodded in reply.
Once she parked the truck, her eyes zeroed in on Justine Armando talking to one of the townspeople.
Beck followed her gaze. “I told Justine she was welcome to come to the funeral if she wanted,” he said, swinging open his door. “Don’t read anythin’ into that, okay?”
“I won’t.”
While the reporter was dressed in all navy, with a stylish hat, Riley was in the dress, as she’d come to think of it, the one she’d worn to both her parents’ funerals and to all the services for the dead trappers. If worth could be calculated in sorrow, this garment would be priceless.
Once Beck climbed out of the truck, cane in hand, Riley joined him. His face was tight, his emotions under considerable restraint.
“We’ll get through this together,” she said quietly. It was exactly what he’d said to her before her father’s funeral. He nodded, but gave no reply.
Donovan stood near the coffin under the blue tent. He was in a suit, not his uniform, and the similarities between him and Beck were more noticeable now. When they stood next to each other, their height was about the same, though Beck’s hair was sandier than the sheriff’s and he had broader shoulders. The funeral director they’d brought in to handle the services stood next to Donovan, a thin man with a pinched face.
“Denver,” Donovan said solemnly.
“Tom. Thanks for comin’,” Beck replied, and they shook hands. He turned his attention to the undertaker. “Thank you for steppin’ in and gettin’ everythin’ ready, Mr. Bishop.”
“It was the least I could do given the unfortunate circumstances,” the man replied.
The pleasantries over, Beck chose one of the chairs near the front of the tent as other mourners filed in around them, including Sam and Louisa. Riley recognized some of the faces from the diner, including a few of the old guys.
Though the preacher did his best to warn them about the dangers they faced if they didn’t keep their eyes on Heaven, Riley lowered her eyes to the twin inscriptions on her palms, knowing the man’s warnings were too late for her.
When he finished his sermon, he looked toward Beck expectantly. Puzzled, Riley watched as Sadie’s son took his position in front of the coffin. Beck’s face was pale and lined, the emotional strain almost too much to bear.
Why is he doing this to himself? He doesn’t owe his mother anything.
Beck shifted his weight uneasily. He knew everyone was watching him, but he had to sort out the battle inside his heart. His eyes moved to Riley, and he felt a sense of calm envelop him like a loving embrace. What was it about Paul’s daughter that made him feel like that?
She gave him a nod of encouragement, though she had no idea what he was about to do. Beck cleared his throat and made sure to look at the far end of the tent, over the faces of the mourners. In particular, he avoided looking at the red-haired reporter.
“The preacher said some fine words for Sadie. I need to say a few more.” Another throat clearing. “Some of ya . . . you knew Sadie when she was younger. I’ve heard she was a great deal of fun and had a sense of humor. By the time I showed up that was pretty much gone. Leastways I never saw it.”
His heart pounded inside his chest. Why was he up here? Why did he feel driven to do this?
“The Sadie I knew wasn’t a good woman. She was mean as a snake and lived in a bottle. I don’t think she ever met a guy she’d turn down.”
A couple of old ladies gasped. Maybe he’d been too honest, but somehow he knew Sadie wouldn’t disagree.
“By the time I was sixteen and had to leave town, I’d seen so much of the bad that I didn’t think there was much better out there. I was sure I wasn’t worth a damn. Some of you here tried to help me along and I’ll always think well of you for that.” His eyes were on Donovan now.
“The one thing that Sadie taught me was that I didn’t want to be her. I wasn’t gonna become someone who hated life so much that I’d destroy all the joy in it.” His eyes moved to Riley now. “I was lucky—I met some good folks in Atlanta, and they showed me a much better way.” He heaved a sigh. “They taught me I was worth a damn and that Sadie was the one who was missin’ out. So, I guess what I’m sayin’ is that even if Sadelia Beck wasn’t a good person or even a good parent, she taught me more than she ever realized.”
His legs began to shake—he tried to control them and failed. “I thank you for comin’ here today. I doubt she’ll find peace where she’s headed. That wasn’t her way, but at least we said a proper goodbye.”
Beck made it back to his seat, but not a moment too soon, his stomach roiling and sweat beading on his forehead.
Riley leaned over and whispered, “I never could have done that.”
“I had to,” he whispered back. “I’m leavin’ all of it behind, here in the dirt with her. I’m startin’ over from now on. Nothin’ is gonna hold me back.”
Riley slid her hand into his and squeezed it. “God, you’re awesome, you know that?”
“No, I’m just me.” And for today, that’s enough.
The preacher ended the service with another prayer, though he seemed rattled by Beck’s candid farewell. One by one, mourners trailed by the open coffin and then stopped to speak to him and Riley. Louisa dropped a kiss on his cheek. Then Justine was in front of him, her deep emerald eyes glistening with moisture.
“Often the worst times of our lives are the ones that shape us the most,” she said. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Beck.” She didn’t kiss him, but touched his arm fondly, then departed after he murmured his thanks.
When it was only the two of them, Beck made his way to the coffin where he gazed down at the face of a woman who had given him life, and then made it a living hell.
Why couldn’t you have loved me? I was never that bad.
A sob lodged in his throat. “Rest in peace, Momma,” he whispered and then placed a kiss on her cold forehead.
I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, but that doesn’t keep me from lovin’ you.
TWENTY-TWO
After they’d changed clothes at the motel and Riley’s luggage was stowed in the truck, Beck drove her to the bus station in Waycross. She bought her ticket and then returned to wait with him until the time came to board. This was his opportunity to show her how much had changed between them. If he hadn’t just buried his mother, Riley would have expected a blazing kiss. At the least she expected some acknowledgment that he felt the same as she did.
