Crushed Promises, page 8
“Life sucks sometimes.” He rolled his eyes. “We both know how fast it can change, and in directions neither of us wants it to go.”
He sat still as a statue, watching, as if waiting for her to deliver the final blow, his real prognosis.
She held tighter to his callused hand. “I don’t see any sense in sugar coating anything, and I promise to not lie to you. Wouldn’t do any good, anyway. You always were able to see through my fibs. I’ll tell you straight up what’s going on.”
The corner of his lip turned upward. “Yeah?”
Squeezing his hand again, she smiled. “Yeah. Besides, if I mess up, you’re liable to tell me to go cut you a switch.”
“No…me.” He puckered his lips. “Mom.”
Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. “You’re right, as usual. Mom was the one who kept us in line. To be honest, having her tell us which belt to get or which tree to cut a switch from was worse than the actual whipping.”
“I…cou…stan…pun…ish. So…Mom…”
“Oh, Dad. We deserved what we got. We finally got smart enough to stay out of trouble. Funny how that worked out, isn’t it? Mom knew what she was doing, teaching us right from wrong and that there are consequences for those wrongs. Lindsey and I were better human beings because Mom was so strict.” However, Becca wasn’t sure how well the lessons actually took with Lindsey. The girl never quite got over some of her wild ideas.
His eyes softened, and she knew he was thinking about the two women they’d lost. “I miss them, too. Each and every day.”
His only response was a deep sigh.
“Another of the twists and turns that we don’t like.” Her eyes began to burn and she blinked rapidly to hold the tears at bay. She’d be positive for him if it killed her. His recovery depended on his attitude. Giving up was not an option.
He squeezed her hand, and she bit her lip from the intensity of the pressure. “Hey, watch it. I thought you’d turned into a ninety-pound weakling after lying around here for so long. Should’ve known better.”
He chuckled and released her.
“Sor…ry.”
“Not a problem.” She made a show of rubbing her hand, not all of which was put on.
He pointed a finger at her. “How…do…in…?”
“Pretty good, actually. Your stray cat won’t let me near it, but he sure cleans up that bowl of food I put out for him every day.”
“Miss…ho…” He looked out the window and his shoulders slumped.
“Hey, none of that. You’ll be back. First, they have to figure out what caused the stroke so you don’t have another one and get you well. Then you have to work on your speech and legs. Which means rehab.”
“I…know…”
“Good.”
They sat in silence for several minutes. She thought he’d turn the TV back on, but didn’t. “The calves are getting bigger.”
He perked up. “Roy?”
Darn. She didn’t want to discuss him. Although, it didn’t bug her as much as it would have a few days ago. “He has been coming out and feeding those critters. Not sure how he manages it without serious injury. They get pretty aggressive.”
Chuckling again, he nodded and said, “Know.”
“I invited him to supper last night.” Dad’s face lit up. Now why did she have to go and tell him that? “Oh, no. Don’t go getting any bright ideas or reading anything in to it. It was to just pay him back for helping out so much around the farm. No big deal. Got it?”
He continued to grin his lopsided grin. It hurt her heart to see his distorted features, but at least she still had him here. She’d take that any day of the week. A nurse and an orderly came into the room, disrupting the conversation. Thankfully.
“Ready to lie down, Mr. Walker?” the nurse asked.
Nodding, he allowed them to maneuver him into the bed. While they fussed with the bedding, making sure he was comfortable and covered well, Becca noticed how tired he looked. He’d stayed up too long, but she knew that getting up, moving around more and more, was good for him. If he continued to stay in bed, he’d never improve. Not acceptable.
After they left, Dad drifted to sleep. She had wanted to talk to him about the treasure, give him something to concentrate on besides his current situation. Determined to have more concrete information on the Knights of the Golden Circle when he woke up, she pulled out her tablet. She’d start where she left off the last time. She opened a browser and, for the next couple of hours, lost herself on the Internet.
As it turned out, she never got the chance to discuss the gold when his never-ending supply of friends began drifting in and out of the room, including the sheriff. Becca was grateful he didn’t say anything in front of Dad about her being run off the road. No reason to worry him, and apparently the sheriff was of the same mind.
By the time the last of the visitors left, Dad was exhausted and shooed her away. Nothing left for her to do except go home.
To the empty house where she kept hearing things and having nightmares.
To the house that was no longer her sanctuary.
****
Instead of going home, Becca decided to go to a movie. She needed something lighthearted so chose a popular comedy. By the time the movie was over, she hadn’t gotten lost in the story like she’d hoped, but she had been distracted, her ultimate goal.
When she got home, disappointment hit her. Neither Roy’s truck nor motorcycle sat in the driveway, but it was late enough that he’d probably come and gone already. Funny how she’d gotten used to seeing him there each day. Or at least knowing he’d be there, whether she saw him or not. Although, she was glad he’d stayed for dinner last night, despite the fact he left soon afterwards.
That hug had sure seemed to make him uncomfortable, even though he was the one who’d initiated it. She kept replaying those moments in her mind and thinking she wouldn’t have minded if the embrace had lasted a little longer. But that was silly. Why would she want more contact with Roy Maddox? He blamed her for Lindsey’s death, for destroying his world. When he’d verbally attacked her after the funeral, she’d stood there and taken it without a word. She didn’t blame him for his anger, his grief. Every word he’d spewed was true. It was her fault. At some point over the years, though, she’d expected that anger to fade, or at least soften. Until now, it hadn’t. What changed?
Dad’s stroke.
Roy had obviously stayed in close contact with him over the years, but Dad hadn’t told her. Because Roy asked him to keep it from her? Or because Dad thought it would be too upsetting? Right now, it didn’t matter. At least she and Roy were being civil to each other.
Glad she’d turned on the porch light before leaving that morning, she climbed from the car and went inside. Changing into a pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, she made a sandwich, poured a glass of iced tea, and ate in the quiet of the kitchen. Dad hadn’t changed anything over the years. The old round wooden table he’d gotten one year in payment for doing someone’s haying took up major floor space. The brown shellacked cabinet doors and yellow Formica countertops were the same, and a glass barrel cookie jar sat where it always had. The clock her mom bought at a yard-sale decades ago still hung where she’d originally put it.
Despite the room looking the same, time marched on, whether you wanted it to or not. Standing, she stretched, then went outside to sit on the swing. Fireflies dotted the landscape and tree frogs singing their songs kept her company.
Her phone buzzed, startling her. A glance at the screen showed it was Michelle Barns, her agent. It must be close to eleven o’clock on the east coast. Guilt ate at her. She’d promised to call as soon as she’d gotten to Arkansas and tell her what was going on. So focused on Dad, she’d forgotten.
Though Michelle owned her own agency, she put in more hours a day than any three of her employees combined. She networked, read scripts, watched audition videos, and kept tabs on all of her clients from the moment she got up in the morning until the moment she went to sleep at night. “Hi, Michelle.”
“Becca, how’s your father?”
“Still in the hospital. He had a pretty severe stroke so he’ll have a long road to recovery. I apologize for not calling and letting you know.”
“What does that mean in regards to how long you’ll be gone?” Michelle was blunt, outspoken, never pulled any punches…and probably exhausted at this late hour.
“Um, I’m not sure. The doctor hasn’t given me a definitive timeline yet and—”
“You aren’t going to back out on me, are you? It was bad timing on Ashley’s part that she got pregnant when she did, but a fantastic break for you. You deserve that role. You were made for that role. I understand about your father, but you made a commitment.” She paused, likely rubbing the bridge of her nose the way she did when she was stressed.
“Luckily, Ashley has gone to bat for you and is staying until you can get back, but she’s starting to show. The costumes won’t fit her much longer. At that point, if you haven’t returned, your understudy will take over. Your reputation will take a hit, and so will mine. The good news is, mine will recover. Yours might not.”
Wow. She wasn’t holding anything back. Sitting up straighter, Becca assumed her most serious business demeanor and tone.
“I fully understand the situation, Michelle. I’ve been running my lines to stay fresh—” a small white lie that she’d rectify this evening “—so I won’t miss a beat when I step back on stage.”
Michelle paused, as if contemplating the truth of her statement. “All right. Don’t forget that I was the one who took a chance on you when you first arrived in the city.”
Becca cringed. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. I couldn’t have gotten this far in my career without your help, and I’m extremely grateful. I’ve never let you down before, have I?”
“No, so don’t start now.” She hung up.
Becca blew out a deep breath as she slumped on the swing. Michelle wasn’t the only one who’d worked her rear off. Becca had spent long, hard hours learning the craft, taking any available part in order to prove herself, both with off Broadway and off-off Broadway productions, doing whatever it took to get a chance like this one.
So close to fulfilling her promise to Lindsey, she practically tasted it. She couldn’t afford to fail now. Panicked, she crossed her arms in front of her stomach and leaned forward, feeling sick.
Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes and tried to run different scenarios through her mind. The only options were to stay here and take care of Dad, losing her dream job in the process, or return to Manhattan and worry herself to death about him. She wasn’t sure the dream job was worth disappointing Dad. Unless that was what he wanted. Maybe she should wait until morning to make a decision when she’d be more clear-headed. Right now, she felt painted into a corner with no way out. A slight thump on the swing accelerated her heart rate to the point she thought she’d pass out. Nerves already on edge, she was almost afraid to look, but couldn’t not look.
Slowly she turned her head to see Dad’s feral cat standing there, watching her intently. Not wanting to move a muscle, she waited him out. Finally, the animal walked over to her, rubbed his head against her arm, then curled up on the cushion and started purring. Wow. She hadn’t expected that, especially after the way the animal had reacted to her earlier. “Don’t know if Dad gave you a name or not, but I’m going to call you Tom. How does that sound?” she whispered.
He looked at her as if he had no objection. She smiled and, using her foot, set the swing into a gentle motion. Still touching her, Tom tucked his head and went to sleep. Perhaps he was missing Dad, too. Having the cat there helped calm her nerves. Her breathing slowed and tension ebbed from her shoulders.
Things would be okay, one way or the other. As Michelle had reminded her, though, she had obligations. After all, she’d signed a contract stating she’d give the best performance she was capable of during the run of the play. Now that Dad would survive, she didn’t need to worry so much. All she needed to do was get everything in place for his continued care at home.
All of a sudden, the cat raised his head, hissed, and bolted off the swing before disappearing around the corner of the house. Startled, she jumped. “What in the world?”
Then she saw what had frightened him: a light off in the distance. There weren’t any structures in that direction, no homes, no roads. Nothing that would account for a single spot of light sitting in one position. She squinted, but the dense foliage of the trees made it difficult to see clearly. Then the light grew bigger and slowly began to bob up and down. Holy Toledo! It was a spook light. She’d heard about them, but had never seen one.
She grabbed her cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures. Without taking her gaze off the light, she stood and scrambled to the door. She backed inside the house, then closed and locked the door. She turned off all the lights and watched through the window as the spook light continued bouncing, grew bigger a moment before it shrank, dimmed before it became brighter. Then it began to move, appearing to float right through trees. It looked like…no, surely not. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought it would burst. Breath caught in her throat. It was coming toward the house. An icicle of fear slid down her back. No, no, no, no!
She did the only thing she could think of.
She called Roy.
Chapter Seven
Roy sat down with a bowl of popcorn, ready to watch the game he’d recorded, only to be interrupted by a phone call. He looked at the screen, then bit back a curse. Rebecca. After his stunt of hugging her, he made a point of not being there when she got home tonight. He considered not answering, but reluctantly took the call. She might have an update on Perry.
“Hello?”
“Roy, I… There’s…” Her voice wobbled.
What the…? “Rebecca? What’s going on?”
“I’m home. I—I saw something…a light of some sort out in the woods.” She paused a moment. “I don’t see it now, but it headed straight toward the house and I was so… I didn’t know…”
She was babbling, but the anxiety in her voice came across loud and clear.
“Did you hear anything? See anyone?” He was already up, stomping into his boots and searching for his truck keys.
“No. Uh, you might think I’m crazy, but I think it was a spook light.”
“A what?” Surely she didn’t say what he thought she said. Those stupid myths and legends had been circulating for years. Most people believed they were gases of some sort or bioluminescence. But others thought they were spirits of the deceased who didn’t want to cross over so they wandered aimlessly, taking joy in scaring the living daylights out of everyone. She must be one of the latter. Or maybe she had been drinking and just thought she saw something. Either way, he had to find out. Climbing into his truck, he fired it up. “Never mind. Don’t go outside.”
“But—”
“Stay inside the house. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He drove as fast as prudently possible, trying not to exceed the speed limit too much. He didn’t have time to be pulled over. A little over five minutes later he skidded to a stop in her driveway.
The lights were out in the house, even the porch light. Had Rebecca turned them off, or had something happened? Opening the glove box, he retrieved the Glock he’d started carrying since Melody had been abducted and he had been attacked. He’d grown up thinking Rock Ledge was a safe place to live. Not anymore.
He attached the clip-on holster to his belt loop but kept a firm grip on the firearm as he cautiously made his way across the yard. A sliver of light spilled around the side of the house from the pole light down at the barn, and from what he could tell nothing looked out of the ordinary there. No nervous cattle mooing or stomping around, no spooky light. Stepping up on the dark porch, he cringed when one of the boards creaked. Then the front door flew open and someone launched themselves at him. Caught off guard, he didn’t have time to get off a shot. Then a flowery scent registered in his brain as a soft body pressed against his.
He took a moment to enjoy the feminine form snuggled intimately against him. Sensations from last night hit him and desire coursed through his veins. Tempted to pull her closer and see what her lips tasted like, he stopped short when guilt assaulted him for forgetting who he held. He pulled her arms away from his neck before he stepped back, putting a little distance between them. He needed more space than that, though, to erase the urge to hold her again. “Damn it, Rebecca. I could’ve shot you!”
“W—what?” She sounded breathless, as if she’d been running.
“Geez, woman.” He took hold of her arm, checked his flank to make sure no one was sneaking up on him, then guided her inside. He flipped on the living room lights, shocked at her appearance. With her hair mussed, and with almost wild eyes, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. Which, apparently, she thought she had. He slid the gun into the holster. “Don’t you know better than to do that?”
“I—I’m sorry, Roy. I was so glad to see you that I didn’t think. It’s just there was this light and…” She rushed to the front window and looked out, craning her neck to see first one way, then the other. “I don’t see it now. I think it moved into the woods. When the cat took off like it did, I—”
“Wait. What does the cat have to do with this?”
She twirled to look at him. “Why, that was what alerted me. Poor Tom—”
“Tom?”
“Yes, that’s what I named him. Anyway, he was sitting with me on the swing and—”
“Perry’s feral cat? The one no one but no one can get near except him was actually on the swing? Unrestrained. Sitting there. With you.”
She looked at him as if he were the one who’d lost his mind, not her. “Yes! Now if you’ll let me finish.”
He held his hands up in a surrender motion.
“Tom suddenly woke up, hissed, and ran off. I barely missed getting clawed. Anyway, that’s when I saw it. Scared me half to death. I’ve never seen anything like that before. If Tom hadn’t alerted me, I’m not sure what would’ve happened.” She stopped and sucked in a breath. “Do you think he’s all right? I mean, maybe that thing, whatever it is, went after him. We have to go find him.”
