Nowhere Pure, page 17
Suddenly, Callaway was standing in front of her. He wrapped her in his strong arms and pulled her close.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re safe now. Everything’s alright.”
How many times had she said those very words to others? And yet, now she was the one needing reassurance, needing someone to tell her with confidence that life as she knew it was not broken. The world would go on, and she would go on with it.
A great, choking sob came unbidden from her throat. Her chest shook, and tears sprang from her eyes.
“Shh, shh,” Callaway said, squeezing her tightly as if worried she might fall apart if he let go. Cole felt all her fear come rushing up like struck oil, and she could not have kept it from pouring out of her if she had tried.
Then, as the pressure eased and she managed to catch her breath, Callaway pulled back and looked into her face. His emerald eyes were solemn, as if letting her know that he understood what she was experiencing.
Without premeditation, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his—tentatively at first, feeling the roughness of the skin and prickliness of the stubble around his mouth.
Then, with an urgency whose source she did not fully understand, she kissed him.
Callaway relaxed into her kiss, cradling the back of her head with one hand.
After a few seconds, Cole remembered herself and pulled back, clearing her throat. “Alice,” she whispered. “We should make sure Alice is okay.”
Callaway nodded, though it was clear from his eyes that he did not want to move away from her. He lingered a few moments longer, their noses nearly touching, and then stepped away.
Cole forced herself to move toward Drake. She squatted beside him, examining his shoulder. It was a flesh wound, and it had already begun to clot. He would be just fine.
“Is it safe?” a small, timid voice asked as Alice approached. Her wide eyes lingered on Drake for a few seconds, then shifted to Cole’s face.
“It is now,” Cole said, managing a weary smile as she rose. “It is now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
“Well,” the doctor said, “I have good news and bad news.”
Cole and Callaway sat slumped in chairs in the hospital waiting room, Cole’s leg propped on a chair in front of her with a bag of ice resting on her ankle. An EMT had insisted on looking at the ankle, even though Cole had said over and over that Alice and Drake were the priority, and after a quick examination, he had concluded it was a bad sprain rather than a break, and all she needed was to rest and try to stay off her feet as much as possible.
Now, having waited while doctors patched up Drake and looked over Alice, she waited with bated breath to hear what the doctor had to say.
“Start with the good,” Callaway said.
“The good news is that they’ll both be okay,” the doctor replied. “Miss Gundersen is physically fine (a little dehydrated, but we hooked her up to an IV, and she’s doing great), and Mr. Morton should make a full recovery. The bullet avoided anything vital, and there was little blood loss before the EMTs were able to reach him.”
Cole nodded, bracing herself for whatever might come next. “And the bad news?”
The doctor sighed. “The bad news is that Mr. Morton has already made two escape attempts, one of which involved trying to stab a nurse with her own pen. He’s been restrained to prevent any further incidents, however, and now he merely raves about his ‘grand plan,’ which seems to involve punishing scientists somehow. I can’t quite piece it together.”
Cole relaxed inwardly. Morton’s belligerence came as no surprise. She just hoped that, given time, he might come to understand the irrationality of his behavior.
“He’s also been referring to himself as ‘the Dragon,’” the doctor continued. “Apparently, it has something to do with his first name.”
“A drake is a mythological kind of dragon, ain’t it?” Callaway asked.
Cole nodded. “Now that you mention it, that sounds right.” She smiled at the doctor. “Thank you for everything.”
The doctor nodded, pressed his lips together tightly, and then walked out. Cole was not sure what to make of Drake’s decision to refer to himself as “the Dragon.” It was just one further indication that something wasn’t right in his mind.
“Such a pity,” Callaway said, shaking his head.
Cole glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
“Morton. Throwing everything away like that. He’ll be raving all the way to the grave, mark my words.”
Cole frowned thoughtfully as she adjusted the bag of ice on her ankle. “I’m not sure it’s that simple.”
“Oh?”
“My mother had a saying: ‘Where there’s life, there’s hope.’ I remember her telling my father that when we found a baby sparrow that had fallen from its nest.” A small smile creased her lips. “She was so convinced we could save that bird, even though she’d never done it before.”
They were both silent for a few seconds. “What happened to the bird?” Callaway finally asked.
“It grew to an adult, and we let it go.”
Callaway nodded and stared down the hallway. A telephone at the front desk began to ring, competing with the sharp clipping of a woman’s heels across the tiled floor. A soft beeping came from a life support machine in one of the rooms.
Callaway turned toward her, his knee brushing hers. “Listen,” he said softly. “About earlier—”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said quickly. “It was unprofessional. I was just so scared and overwrought—”
“Stop.” He shook his head firmly, his emerald eyes staring intently into hers. “It wasn’t a mistake. I don’t regret a thing.”
Suddenly, Cole felt as if she could hardly breathe. She waited, staring back.
“I like you,” Callaway said carefully, as if tasting the sound of the words. “Maybe that’s all it is—liking. Or maybe it’s something more. I don’t know.” He looked away and shook his head. “I know you care about Bryce, and you think you have something special with him, but we have something special too.”
He looked at her again. This time she looked away, unsure what to do with the storm of emotions swirling inside her.
“This is worth it,” Callaway whispered fiercely. “You and I—we’re worth it. Worth giving a try, anyway. Maybe we’ll be gasoline and fire, and everything will blow up in our faces, but I’d much rather find that out than spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been.”
Now, the emotion inside Cole was a tide: one moment a wave of fear and insecurity, the next a wave of hope and happiness. It was confusing, troubling, and—in a strange way—exhilarating.
“I guess what I’m saying is,” Callaway said, sighing, “I want to be with you, Harley Cole. There it is—I said it.”
The silence fell over Cole like a blanket in a swimming pool, smothering her. She felt trapped, forced to provide a solution she did not have. “Callaway,” she began, her voice raw and pleading, “I can’t—”
“You don’t have to answer me now. Just think about it, will you? And when you’ve given it some thought, let me know.” He smiled gently, then rose. He paused, as if thinking of saying something more. Then, without another word, he walked out.
Cole leaned back against the chair and stared up at the ceiling. What a day, she thought. Why does life always have to be such a rollercoaster?
Callaway’s words echoed in her head, but she knew she could not process them now. She needed time—as well as a meal, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep. How late was it, anyway? It had to be at least eleven.
She sat up abruptly, suddenly realizing she had missed dinner with her father and brother. She dug her phone from her pocket and noticed with despair the several missed calls from Greg.
He’s going to kill me, she thought.
Deciding the damage was already done, she began writing him a text.
Greg, sorry I missed your calls. Got caught up in work. She paused. That was always her excuse, wasn’t it? Too busy with work? Still, it was the truth. When Greg heard about the murders on the news, surely he would understand.
Not trying to make excuses, she continued. Can we do breakfast tomorrow? Dad’s place, like you said. If you need any groceries, text me, and I’ll pick them up along the way.
Hesitantly, she added, Hope to see you soon.
She sent the message. Then she leaned back, utterly exhausted. To her surprise, her phone vibrated just a few seconds later with a message from Greg.
Sounds good. See you then.
Those five simple words caused tears to spring to her eyes, though she was not sure why. Maybe it was because she had just survived a near-death experience, and even though she had hurt her brother, he wasn’t ignoring her or cutting her out of his life. That simple act of grace meant more than he could know.
Cole was not sure what kind of morning she would have with her father and brother (and a part of her still shrank back at the idea, given her complicated family history), but she was glad at least to know she was welcome there. She had missed dinner, but she wouldn’t miss breakfast.
She just needed a little sleep first.
Picking up the bag of ice, she rose and took a moment to rearrange the chairs. Then she limped out of the room. As she was making her way toward the exit, she heard a soft voice say, “That’s her!” She turned to see Alice standing at the front desk with a man and a woman who, judging by their appearance, had to be Alice’s parents.
“That’s the woman who saved me,” Alice said.
The words caused a lump to form in Cole’s throat, and she stopped in her tracks, unsure what to do. Before she could come up with a polite way to graciously accept the compliment and excuse herself, the trio advanced toward her.
“I want to thank you for saving my daughter,” Mr. Gundersen said, a slight quaver in his otherwise firm voice. He put out his hand, but before Cole had a chance to shake it, Mrs. Gundersen brushed past him and threw her arms around Cole.
“Thank you,” she whispered, sobbing into Cole’s shoulder. “We can’t even begin to thank you enough.”
Alice stared at the floor, looking troubled and a little lost—which, more than likely, was the truth. Some part of her was probably still lost back in that silo, and it would be a long, difficult process to lead that part of herself back out into the light.
But it could be done, and judging by Cole’s first impression of Alice’s parents, it appeared Alice had some good people in her life to help her do it.
At last, Alice’s mother pulled away, sniffling. Her husband retreated a few steps to the desk, where he plucked a pair of tissues and handed them to her.
Cole tried to keep her emotions in check, knowing that if she was not careful, she would soon be crying too.
“I was just doing my job,” she said when she had regained her voice. “It was nothing.”
“No,” Mr. Gundersen said, looking squarely into Cole’s eyes. “It was everything.”
Cole said nothing, letting the words linger. Then an orderly approached, pushing an old man in a wheelchair, and Cole stepped back to give them room. The Gundersens looked at her a few moments longer, then returned their attention to the nurse at the front desk.
Cole began to limp toward the exit. Just as she reached the door, she paused to look over her shoulder.
Alice was looking at her. There was no smile on the girl’s face, but there was something in her eyes, a brightness that had not been there before.
Then Cole recognized what it was.
Hope.
EPILOGUE
“Good lord, what happened to you?” John Cole said, his thick eyebrows pulling together as he watched Cole limp toward the table. “Get hit by a truck or something?”
Here we go, Cole thought, bracing herself. Breakfast with her father and brother ought to have been a simple thing, but in her family, few things were simple. And though the five hours of sleep she’d gotten after returning home from the hospital had helped, the truth was she probably could have slept for another seven.
She would just have to do the best she could with what she had, however. Once already, she had planned a meal with them and missed it, and she would not do so this time.
It was a bright, cheery morning, and even from a distance, Cole could smell the food laid out on the picnic table: eggs, bacon, waffles, fresh apples. Her father’s backyard was a small, fenced-in area with a gravel pathway flanked by planters. An umbrella stood in the middle of the table, draping the area in a blanket of shade.
As Cole shuffled toward the table, Greg rose and, looking a bit uncertain of himself, hurried toward her to offer his arm.
“Thanks,” Cole said, embarrassed by the attention. “It’s just a sprain. I’ll be fine.”
“Got it chasing after some psychopath, I’m sure,” her father said with a grunt. “How that job hasn’t killed you yet is beyond me.”
Cole and her brother exchanged a glance. Greg shrugged and shook his head as if to say, Some things never change.
“What can I say?” Cole said as Greg pulled out a chair for her. “I was born under a lucky star.” She sat down, then scooted the chair in, and rested her forearms on the table.
Dad grunted again. “Well, at least one of us was. I tell you, just be glad you ain’t a man, because the first time you get a catheter shoved up your—”
“Alright, then,” Greg said loudly. “Why don’t we get things started? Burrito, anyone?”
Cole nodded and held her plate out, doing her best to suppress a smile. She caught Greg’s gaze and saw his eyes glinting with good humor, and for just a moment, she felt as if they were kids again.
Then her father’s words broke the illusion.
“Still with Bryce Forrester?” he asked, tearing into his burrito and watching her as he chewed, his lips never completely meeting. He looked only slightly different from the last time Cole had seen him. He had a little less hair on his angioma-spotted scalp, and his cheeks had sunk a little deeper, but otherwise, he was the same tired, old man she remembered.
I can’t help looking at him without thinking of a ticking clock, she thought, troubled. Part of the reason she’d come back to New Mexico was because he’d been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer (a consequence of his many years working in a copper mine), and she hadn’t known how long he had left. As terrible as it was to admit to herself, the truth was that part of her wished he had passed shortly after her return. Maybe they could have had one meaningful conversation, a single healing moment of connection before he left her life for good.
Instead, he lingered, slowly giving ground to death—as did their relationship.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly in answer to his question. “Bryce and I are dating.”
“He gonna make an honest woman of you?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Dad.”
He looked at Greg, his expression a caricature of confusion. “This is your life, honey. Your future! Look, I know Rob had his flaws, but sooner or later, you’ve gotta realize that if you’re gonna settle down and have kids—”
“Maybe I don’t want to settle down, Dad,” she said tightly, angry with him for bringing up her ex-husband, who had divorced her while she was still living out east. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “Please, can we talk about something else?”
Her father threw up his hands and leaned back, looking offended. Cole turned her attention to her brother.
“What about you?” she asked. “Dating anyone?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing serious.”
“You might think his house was a walk-in clinic,” Dad said, “with all the women he’s got coming and going.”
Greg rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating. I’m here most of the time, truth be told.”
Cole nodded, grateful for her brother’s willingness to look after their father. Greg could tolerate the man’s idiosyncrasies far better than she could, and though the relationship between the two men hadn’t always been cordial, there had never been the kind of tension that had existed for years between Cole and her father.
Still, she thought, it’s got to be hard on Greg, spending his life caring for a bitter, old man instead of building his own future. I don’t know how he does it.
The conversation lapsed into silence, and Cole tried to focus on her food. She couldn’t help sensing her father’s eyes on her, however, studying her as if he still didn’t know what to make of her after all these years. She sensed she was, and always would be, a mystery to her own father, just as—in some ways—he was a mystery to her.
“This is nice,” Greg said, helping himself to a few strips of bacon. “We should do this more often.”
“We should,” Cole agreed, but there was no feeling behind the words. She could find her stride with Greg, even if they occasionally butted heads, but with her father, everything went by fits and starts. If they experienced a moment of connection, she knew it was only a matter of time before things went wrong.
Cole was trying to think of something safe to say to break the silence when her phone began to vibrate. The Caller ID read, “DEVIL’S POINT COUNTY JAIL.”
She hesitated, trying to think who might be calling her.
“Something important?” her father asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Cole pushed back her chair. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said as she rose.
“You sure this can’t wait?” Greg asked, sounding disappointed rather than angry. There also seemed to be a warning in his tone: Dad’s going to be offended, and he won’t let it go easily. I might not, either.
“I’ll be quick,” Cole said, hoping this would be a fair compromise.
Her father nodded, his eyes glazing over with an expression she knew all too well.
She answered the phone, and a recorded voice asked if she would like to accept a call from Devil’s Point. The caller’s name was Rufus Kain.
