Lilacs for Laura Page 15

  Gratitude filled her eyes. “That would be great. It’s killing me not knowing.” She looked at the girls. “I can’t leave them, but a report would be nice.”

  He rose, but she pulled him back into the chair and pushed two Quarter Pounders in front of him. “Eat your lunch first.”

  His stomach growled in response. “I guess that’s a good idea,” he agreed. He really loved this woman.

  Before he could wolf down the burgers and super-sized fries, Chad burst into the house, holding the door open as he helped Rachel over the threshold.

  Laura looked glamorous compared to her sister. Beautiful Rachel, homecoming queen of Crystal Falls High, had been reduced to a sniffling shell of a woman. Brett’s heart ached for her. How tragic that a beautiful woman with such wonderful potential and a supportive family had been reduced to this.

  A crazed look haunted her sunken eyes. Their glassy green depths engulfed in purple skin starkly contrasted her ghostly complexion. Pulled back severely, her long blond hair puckered into a stringy ponytail. A grayish aura surrounded her.

  Rachel’s long limbs trembled violently in clothing that hung on her frame, weighted with crusted mud. Brett yearned to comfort her somehow, but feared there was nothing he could do.

  Laura reached for her sister, but Rachel pushed her away. Brett wasn’t prepared for the intensity of her anger, nor the depth of hurt on Laura’s face. Palpable tension filled the air.

  “Stop it,” Chad reprimanded with an eye on the children.

  Rachel hung her head, but kept her distance from Laura.

  “Get her a hot bath,” Chad instructed Laura, “and something to eat. She hasn’t eaten for two days.”

  “No wonder she’s shaking,” Laura said with surprise.

  “Yeah, besides being a nervous wreck,” Chad agreed.

  “I’m not hungry,” Rachel argued weakly. Then she spotted her daughters and froze. They stared at her in wide-eyed horror.

  Upon her notice, the girls jumped up in unison. They ran to her, grabbing onto her, bawling, “Mommy!”

  Rachel fell to her knees, sobbed, and held her children.

  The emotional scene left Brett in need of air. Suffering women and children caused by an alcoholic man hit too close to home. He caught Laura’s eye and nodded toward the door.

  She followed him out. “You okay?” he asked.

  Dumbly, she shook her head. “No. But I’ll deal with it.”

  Chad joined them on the doorstep, his face hard and drawn. “I have to get back. We’re forming a wading line to search the creek,” he informed them. “Brett, we could use your help.”

  “Of course—”

  “Laura,” Chad interrupted. “Rachel needs you here.”

  “Tell her that.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

  “Just get in there, she’ll come around.” He swatted her on the rear.

  “Yes, boss. I hope you’re right.”

  Opening the door, she turned back to Brett. He didn’t know what happened between her and Rachel, but Laura’s eyes begged him to stay. She was more upset now than when he’d arrived. So much for bringing her joy. He was leaving in her darkest hour. Brett gave her an apologetic look.

  “Let’s go,” Chad said. “Time for googly eyes later.”

  Funny, he’d been the one pushing romance. Brett hopped into Chad’s pickup. Enormous rubber boots littered the floor and the seat held a menagerie of clothing.

  “There’s a pair of hip boots for you.” Chad started the truck and backed out of the driveway. Looking out the back window, he continued, “I brought extra clothes so you don’t ruin what you have on. I stopped at the cottage, but when I didn’t find you, I figured you’d be here mooning over my sister.”

  With a smiling sideways glance, he shifted gears and headed up Honeysuckle Lane.

  “Very funny.” But Brett didn’t laugh. “It’s your other sister who worries me.”

  “Yeah.” Chad’s face darkened. “This morning was gruesome.”

  Brett waited, listening.

  “At first light, they pulled Jake’s car out of the creek. After landing nose first, it was tossed into the rapids. The hood ornament went right through the windshield. Shattered glass and creek scum filled the car along with whiskey bottles. The steering column speared the driver’s seat.”

  Sucking in a breath, Brett asked, “How’d he escape?”

  “The convertible top was down and the seat belt wasn’t fastened. He must have been thrown before hitting the water.”

  “The rocks in those rapids are treacherous. And there’s a drop off past Mitchell’s Mill.”

  “Yeah, I know. Rachel came unglued. She screamed, wailed, tore at her hair. Daddy had to restrain her, and Mama tied her hair back to keep her from pulling it all out.”

  Speechless, Brett cringed. Pity consumed him, along with anger. Jake squandered everything leaving wreckage in his wake.

  “The firemen tried to convince her Jake had a better chance surviving the creek than if he’d been buckled in. He would have been shish-kebab.”

  Stunned by that choice of words, Brett gasped.

  Chad dragged a hand down his face. “Sorry to be so cold, but he hurt my sister—over and over.”

  “I hope she doesn’t have a nervous breakdown.”

  With a snort, he scoffed, “That’s not the worst of it.”

  Brett’s head snapped toward his boss. What could be worse?

  Chad turned onto Lavender Lane and rubbed his forehead before continuing. “Mr. Gallagher showed up, spewing the gory details of Layla’s injuries, how the baby was crushed by the steering wheel. Junk Rachel didn’t need to hear.”

  “Heaven help her,” Brett whispered.

  “There wasn’t a single skid mark on the bridge. Gallagher went off, screaming Jake killed Layla and he’d get even.”

  “Wow.” Brett was flabbergasted.

  “Chief Hunter warned him to go home, but finally had to cuff him. Hauled him downtown.”

  Brett shook his head in disbelief. His insides went numb as his mind tried to absorb it all.

  “Before he got in the squad car, he yelled to Rachel, ‘He took what’s mine, and I’ll take what’s his. I’ll get revenge!’”

  Shaken, Brett stared at Chad. “Do you think he will?”

  Chad frowned, lifting his thumbs off the steering wheel in a who-knows gesture. “He’s a crazy old coot.” He paused and turned down Creekside Drive. “I don’t trust him.”

  The intensity wore on Brett. He noted the direction they were headed. “It’s the bridge out by Mitchell’s Mill?”

  “That’s the one. Sirens probably woke your parents last night. Not to mention the wreckers yanking that car off the guardrail. They had the bridge closed for over an hour. Good thing it was the middle of the night.”

  Brett winced. “Were you there?” He couldn’t bear the details of Layla Gallagher’s death.

  “Yeah. I figured my parents and Laura were with Rachel so I might as well make myself useful. Sometimes the rescue workers need an extra pair of hands. And at the time, I thought maybe my brother-in-law was alive down there.”

  Guilt stabbed at Brett. Sadness over Jake eluded him. Sympathy for Rachel, however, seized his heart fiercely. And he couldn’t forget the forlorn look on Laura’s face when he’d left.

  ****

  Laura ran a bubble bath and her sister put the girls to bed for a nap. Still refusing to speak, Rachel soaked for nearly an hour while Laura made homemade chicken soup. When Rachel returned in a fuzzy robe and retreated to her favorite comfy chair, the trembling had calmed. She averted her eyes, wordlessly accepting Laura’s bowl of soup with shaking hands.

  After Rachel got some nourishment, it was time for the truth. Laura had some explaining to do. She waited on the sofa until her sister finished.

  She began with, “I’m sorry.”

  Despite the warm evening, Rachel pulled the robe closer. “Were you seeing him?” she accused.

  “No.
” Laura took a breath. “But he wanted me to.” She watched her sister’s reaction before saying any more.

  Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. Pain radiated from her. “He wasn’t always like that.” She hugged herself.

  “I know,” Laura replied sadly. She’d take it slow.

  “It started with the drinking.” Rachel opened her eyes, stared at her lap. “After the girls were born, he couldn’t handle the responsibility.” She was justifying his behavior.

  It nearly drove Laura mad. He tried to rape me! She wanted to scream. But Rachel couldn’t handle that much truth.

  “With liquor, his weakness for women got the best of him.”

  She could say that again.

  “But I saw a glimmer of good in him.” She said with a hint of pride, a touch of reproof.

  “He kissed me so gently before I went to work in the morning. When I washed dishes, he’d come up behind me and wrap his arms around me.” She paused. “And with the girls—I especially saw his good side when he played with the girls.”

  It was true. Rachel’s sanity depended on those good memories. Ripping them away would shatter her. And the truth would destroy her.

  She continued with a squeaking voice, “He played hide and seek and made gooey ice cream sundaes. He tucked them in and read bedtime stories. He loved them, and they loved him.” The shakes returned, and her face contorted with pain.

  She searched Laura’s face, the blame still there beneath the surface. “I wanted a divorce. I didn’t want him dead.”

  ****

  The search dragged on to no avail. On Monday morning, weariness threatened to overtake Laura as she trudged into the flower shop. The answering machine blinked a red zero. Thank heaven for small favors. Her mother was staying with the girls today. Rachel would be near the search.

  Checking the day’s orders, Laura set her mind on autopilot and began to work. To avoid any discussion of the weekend’s events, she’d hole up in the back room and lose herself in work.

  Just before noon, her father came in with a worrisome limp. Wearing smudged jeans and a green Rosebuds polo shirt, he brought a fresh supply of roses, baby’s breath, and ferns from the greenhouses at home, as well as snapdragons, black-eyed susans, and purple coneflowers from the garden.

  “Hey there,” he said. “How about a lunch break?”

  “Hi Daddy. I can stay here. I packed a lunch.”

  “Oh.” His disappointment showed. Tired lines around his blue eyes grew more pronounced, and gray hairs at his temples seemed to multiply daily. Then there was the limp. The doctor had warned him to go easy on that knee, but he loved gardening and insisted on making the deliveries like he always had.

  “I was hoping you’d run over to the tearoom and pick up some of those little pastries,” he admitted.

  When stressed, John comforted himself with sweets. While her mother and Rachel were inclined to refuse food, Laura shared her dad’s cravings and understood completely.

  So much for hiding out in the back room.

  “Sweet tooth acting up, huh?” she teased.

  “Yeah. I ate the last of the cookies and your mama hasn’t had time to bake with taking care of Rachel and the girls.”

  “But you’re not about to show your face in the tearoom.”

  “No way. Not with all those clucking hens in there. Any self-respecting man stays out of that place.”

  Laura laughed, remembering when Brett had escorted her there. “No problem. But you’re buying.”

  With a smile, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty. “I’ll take some of their chicken pot pie too. And order something for yourself.”

  Comfort food. Sounds good to me. She stepped into The Porcelain Teapot , her favorite little shop in town. Except for Rosebuds , of course.

  Along with every flavor of tea imaginable, jams, scone mixes, and lemon curd filled antique hutches around the shop. English teapots, china cups and saucers, and tea accoutrements set the lace-covered tables for a proper Victorian Tea. The teacup centerpieces were now arranged with fresh daisies.

  Laura stepped up to the tall wooden display case, totally unprepared to face Vanessa Gallagher. She’d forgotten that Layla’s sister worked here.

  Vanessa turned with a look of shocked dismay. Makeup didn’t camouflage her puffy eyes, nor did a high-collared blouse conceal the hives on her neck.

  “May I help you?” she asked with a cracking voice.

  “Uh, yeah.” Faced with her grief, Laura drew a blank.

  “Would you like to order lunch?” Vanessa prompted.

  “Sure.” Yeah, lunch.

  “To go?” She scratched at her neck.

  “Yeah.” Right. If it wasn’t to go, she’d be seated at a table not standing at the counter. But what was it she wanted?

  Pen and pad in hand, Vanessa waited. The hives reddened.

  Laura looked dumbly into the display case below them. “Uh, some of those,” she pointed to her father’s favorite pastries.

  Vanessa blinked, then scribbled on the pad.

  Pastries for lunch? “Oh yeah, and two chicken pot pies.”

  “Would you like tea with that?”

  “Oh...Yes...A pot of Earl Grey, please.”

  “Of course.” Vanessa wrote down the details and looked relieved as she turned away to prepare the order. The tearoom lacked employees to make deliveries, but kept several lunch items ready for orders to go. Vanessa placed a china teapot into the bottom of a picnic basket nestled in a quilted cozy. She tucked steaming, foil-wrapped pies on either side and the plate of pastries on top. The ladies at the tearoom had no qualms about loaning out teapots, knowing their regular customers would return them at the end of the day. Small towns had their advantages.

  She handed Laura the heavy basket.

  “Vanessa?”

  “Yes?” The young woman looked up apprehensively.

  “I’m so sorry about your sister.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes. Speechless, she nodded.

  Compassionate tears welled in Laura’s eyes too. They shared a look of understanding before she turned toward the door.

  Where Myrtle Winthrop waltzed in. From the phony sadness in her eyes, she obviously knew something. A groan churned in Laura’s throat. Small towns had their disadvantages too. News traveled fast.

  Strolling across the floor, Myrtle pursed wrinkled lips.

  “Why, Laura, I’m so sorry to hear the news.” Her overblown sympathy bordered suspiciously on a smirk. She smoothed her lavender hair back and slid in a loose hairpin. “How terrible for your sister,” she exclaimed, laying a hand across her chest. “And that poor Gallagher girl—so young—and with child!”

  Laura stood frozen in place. In her peripheral vision, she spied at least three tables of women gawking at them.

  “Of course, you know what she was doing on the road at that hour. She’d just gotten off work at one of those...those clubs in Riverside.” Everyone in town knew Layla Gallagher was a stripper. “Of course, once she started showing—”

  Stepping away, Laura moved toward the exit.

  With a dramatic frown, Myrtle clasped a bony hand over Laura’s forearm and looked down her pointed nose. “I’m so sorry for your sister. How frightening to wonder if your children will inherit their father’s murderous tendencies.”

  Laura’s eyes popped. Exhaustion nearly robbed her of restraint, but she ground her teeth. Gathering all the tact she could muster, she looked into Myrtle’s cold gray eyes. “I’m sorry for my sister too. But I’m certain her daughters won’t become murderers! Now excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

  Taken aback, Myrtle lifted her chin. “Well, she’d better watch her back because statistics point to genetics—”

  Laura narrowed her eyes. “Good day, Mrs. Winthrop.”

  Myrtle fumbled for a split second. She recovered with a condescending tone. “Get some rest, Miss James, you look exhausted.” Then she turned on her heel and stalked off.

  L
aura groaned for poor Vanessa. Walking past a round table, she saw four ladies who regularly purchased flowers from Rosebuds . She offered a tentative smile, but received cold glares in return. Animated whispers hovered behind her.

  Myrtle would hone in on that conversation pronto. So much for keeping things quiet. Laura only hoped her family’s problems didn’t affect the business.

  Lilacs For Laura

  Lilacs For Laura

  Chapter 14—Sweat-Soaked Sawdust

  Four days after the accident, Jake’s body still hadn’t been found. On Thursday, August thirty-first, Laura dressed for his funeral. The pepper spray she’d been carrying sat on her dresser. Laura tossed it in the trash. After today, she’d forget about Jake Santos. No more guilt or what-ifs. She was tired of blaming herself. The snake got what he’d deserved.

  Yet a tiny part of her still felt sorry for him. Something lovable had always drawn her to him. His boyish charm? His underdog struggle? His fun-loving nature? His sexy attitude?

  How ridiculous! Jake tried to rape her. She nixed her feelings and pulled on black heels. She didn’t feel sympathy for him. She didn’t feel anything for him.

  At The Olde Methodist Church, anxiety filled the air. Laura fussed with bouquets of red and white spider mums adorning the altar. In absence of a casket, a photo of Jake sat on an easel. She refused to look at it, focusing instead on her sister.

  Stiff as a robot, Rachel helped her daughters light candelabras on either side of the pulpit. Jessica barely blinked, her eyes wide with shock. Amelia silently clung to her mother’s black skirt.

  Muted whispers rose from the back of the church. Laura turned to see a crowd leaning in around Myrtle Winthrop as she sputtered and nodded toward a couple entering the sanctuary.

  Jake’s mother arrived with her fourth husband in tow. Maria Santos, or whatever her last name was now, lacked the charming good looks of her son. She smoothed her frizzy, graying hair.

  Chad offered an arm to escort her. She shook her head, swinging jowls beneath her mustache-lined frown. As she staggered up the aisle, her glazed eyes stared at Jake’s photo.

  Rachel greeted her mother-in-law, but the girls hid behind their mother. Laura followed, placing a hand on each girl’s shoulder. A faint smile lit Maria’s eyes as her hug nearly knocked Rachel over. The smell of alcohol blindsided Laura.