Copyright

© 2014 Lynn Donovan

Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Marcy Rachel

Formatting by Marcy Rachel Designs

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

This story is dedicated to my husband, Paul Donovan. You are my true love and my destiny. Like Zeke and Rose, you accept me with all my faults, or should I say, in spite of my faults, and love me unconditionally. I thank God for you every day.

Appreciation

Thank you to everybody in my life who has contributed in one way or another to the writing of this book. My husband, my children, my children-in-law, and my grandchildren. You all are my unconditional fans. My BETA readers and grammar guru who make me look gooder than I am. [Bad grammar intended.] My fellow author friends who chat with me daily to exchange ideas, encourage, maintain sanity, and keep me from being a total recluse/hermit.

Mostly I thank God for the talent he has given me. I hope to hear you say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” when I cross the Jordan and run into your arms—Many, many years from now. :).

Chapter One

Rose Bauer took this road every Sunday to visit with her parents…or at least to stare at their headstone. Her fuchsia VW bug hugged the curves as she sped down the familiar mountain road. The cemetery lay nestled in a meadow forty miles south of Cañon City, Colorado. A cynical chuckle escaped her lips as “Shining Star” blared from her speakers. I wish! What my life can truly be…is totally screwed up. She loved her dad’s collection of Oldies CDs. But this Earth, Wind, and Fire psychedelic hit from the seventies mocked her existence.

Truth was her obstacle, not her shining star. She pulled into the long drive. Only a miracle could make her life what it could truly be. She closed her eyes to let that thought float into the outer realm of the cosmos. Maybe God would have mercy on her. So far, He’d pretty much ignored her. Still, there was always hope. She parked and killed the engine.

Utter silence engulfed her. The old, country cemetery was too quiet. Just setting the brake seemed offensive in the eerie stillness. She scanned the ten-acre meadow framed by century-old cedar trees. Something was wrong.

Behind her, dust settled on the decomposed-granite road that cut the cemetery in half and ended with a circle drive around a peaceful little duck pond. Huh, no ducks in the pond? Maybe they were still at church.

She snickered and glanced through the windshield at the sky. The clouds were gathering and growing darker by the minute. A storm’s coming. Shadows swept across the dormant grass as sunlight faded behind saturated clouds. Her heart felt the same way. Cold and gloomy.

The ducks had had the good sense to find shelter. Should she leave, too? She’d promised her housemate she’d be home in time for the matinee after she visited the graves, which wouldn't take long. She grinned. Keisha, with her ridiculous fetish for weddings, was determined to see The Decoy Bride today.

Rose would keep her promise. She reached for the fresh flowers and pulled the door handle.

The soft turf forced her to walk on the balls of her patent-leather shoes to prevent her four-inch heels from sinking. Compelled to pull at her charcoal gray slacks, she struggled to reach the pink-granite head stone without ruining her church clothes.

“Hi Mom, Dad.” She bent to lay the flowers between Louise and Lee Bauer’s embossed names. Just a five-dollar bunch of irises and daisy mums from Safeway, but they were pretty. She couldn’t afford a florist’s bouquet every week. She looked away from the cold, judgmental granite.

Green sprigs poked out from brown grass. “Looks like the spring bulbs are coming up. I know you’ll love it when”—she swallowed—“all the daffodils and crocuses have bloomed.” She batted tears back and glanced at the sky again. “Looks like they’ll get some rain today.”

The dates on her mother’s side of the marker made her heart ache. “It’s almost been four years.” Determined not to cry, she shook her head and bit her lip. A cold breeze pushed against her, lifting her dark bangs and parting her shoulder length hair. Goose bumps prickled her arms like tiny needles. Her long-sleeved cashmere sweater was not enough to protect her from the sharply declining temperature. She lifted her hands to rub her arms, but a dull ache drew her fingers to her temples instead. Not today. An indignant sigh escaped her lips. Please, no headache today. She scanned the clouds. Probably the weather.

Her dad’s grave was only three months old. The pain was still raw. Christmas Eve had been ruined forever. Only the shock had dulled a bit. A shiver renewed the prickling sensation on her arms. She stared at the headstone. “We’re doing really good at the bakery, Mom. Everyone loves your strawberry muffin recipe. I think they are the town favorite.” She forced a chuckle. A loud rumble of a diesel engine split the pristine silence, but she didn’t look up.

“Keisha’s good, too. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” She cleared her throat and switched her weight to her left side. “She said to tell you hey! So…Hey!”

Her mother’s face came to mind. She smiled as if she were looking into her soft blue eyes. Tears pooled, blurring the Bauer name. She touched the amulet ever present beneath her sweater. Her throat tightened as the words erupted from her heart. “I miss you, Momma.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she closed her eyes. Her father’s absence still festered. Stop this! She couldn’t allow herself to continue to do this. It was too painful. She turned to leave.

The diesel engine died and a door slammed. She looked up and froze. Her dad’s brother stepped around a silver one-ton GMC pickup. Traces of silver lightened his perfectly combed black hair. Slender for his age, he was a taller version of her dad, except for his chiseled features, probably from years of alcohol. He gripped an umbrella like he was carrying a bat. She frowned.

A gnawing sensation bore into the pit of her stomach. She swallowed back her tears and lifted her chin. What’s he doing here?

“Hey, baby girl. You sure are a creature of habit.”

Coldness gripped her heart. It had nothing to do with the approaching storm. His voice grated her nerves. Instinctively, she touched the amulet for strength. “Uncle Russell.”

“Can you come by the dealership sometime? I need you to endorse a check.” He stepped past her and approached the family headstone.

She glared at him. “What check?”

His eyes were barely more than slits as he peered at her from the outer most corners. “Yeah, the life insurance company finally settled on Louise’s claim. I’ve fought tooth and nail for ya, kiddo.”

“What are you talking about?” She pulled a dark lock of wind-swept hair back from her eyes and returned to her parent’s graves. Thunder rolled in the distance.

Russell looked out across the horizon and chuckled. “The clouds are hungry.”

Her father’s words.

Russell quoting her father felt…wrong. Her heart cramped and anger roiled in her gut. She glared up into his face. “My mother had life insurance?”

He nodded and looked back at the headstones. “Just like—”

“Just like, what?”

Distant thunder rolled toward her. It was the only reply.

She stepped closer to him. “Why did you have to fight tooth and nail?” Her palms hurt. When had she clinched her fists?

He drew in a long, dramatic breath. “Well, baby girl, insurances don’t like to pay when the driver’s at fault.” He wouldn’t look at her.

“At fault?” Her brows pulled together in a tight furrow. This wasn’t helping tame her headache. “My mother wasn’t at fault.”

One eyebrow lifted as he flashed a glimpse toward her.

“Russell! My mother was hit by a drunk driver. She wasn’t at fault.” Her calves ached from balancing on the balls of her feet. She shifted her stance. “Right?”

“…No.” Russell turned to face her now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you. But the truth is—”

She stepped away from him. A heel sunk into the sod, and she stumbled. What was he saying? Lightning flashed. Seconds later, thunder sounded like it tumbled across the sky. She shook her head. A raindrop plopped on her face. She flinched and touched the wet spot.

“The truth is your mother was DUI, not the other way around,” he said louder as if she had moved a great distance away from him.

Rose shook her head. It was a lie! Another offensive rain drop splashed against her face, followed by another. Lightning flashed a brilliant light across the darkening cemetery, throwing down shadows from granite stones and the two people who stood among them. A loud slap of thunder startled her to her core. The sky opened up, and rain poured down in sheets whipped by the now ferocious wind.

“You’re lying!” Rose screamed over the bedlam.

Russell lifted the umbrella over his head and stared at her. Rain dripping from his nose and chin. He blinked and then shook his head. “No, baby girl. That’s why the insurance didn’t want to pay the claim. My attorney fought them and managed to get a settlement. I’d think you’d be grateful. We’ll deposit it in your business account.” He glanced at the wall of cedars. “Along with…the funds I put in there for ya to start the bakery.”

Rose shivered more from anger than the cold. Her clothes were ruined. None of it mattered. How could he stand there so serene and tell her something like this? Her mother didn’t drink alcohol. How could she have been DUI? Guilt jabbed her in the gut. Had her mom drank to deal with what Rose had done? Her life was so out of control then. Did she cause her mother’s death?

She glared up at Russell. The storm’s dark shadows carved deep trenches in his face, making him look just like Willem Dafoe. Rain streamed off his umbrella. Should she be grateful? Why was he smiling? Fear permeated her being. She stumbled back from him. He didn’t move. Her heart split in two. Her shoe slipped on the rain-soaked sod and she fell. Cold, brown mud saturated the knees of her slacks. She ran to her car.

She had to get away from him, away from his lies. She pulled onto the county road. Her tires fishtailed on the wet asphalt and her head banged against the driver’s window. She slammed her transmission into second gear and then third. She could barely see through the downpour. How could she let herself get caught in a spring storm? She knew how bad they could get. Lightning flashed and momentarily blinded her. She blinked and blinked. The residual ball of light obscured her vision. Her VW splashed through a low-water crossing.

She down shifted as her car traveled through the water but returned the gear to third and pressed the gas. He’s lying! That’s what Russell did. He lied! Nobody knew that better than her. Wipers flapped vehemently across her windshield. Her mother did not kill those people. They killed her. Her body shook as she sobbed. Tears poured down her face. She scrubbed a knuckle across her nose. Around the curve a granite outcrop became part of the view. Her little bug dipped and climbed with the contour of the road. She needed to talk to Keisha.

The wipers squealed against drying glass. The downpour had stopped. She reached into her purse for her cell phone. Her car slammed into another low-water crossing and hydroplaned to her left. She jerked her eyes up. Terror shot through her chest. Oh God! Her cell phone crashed to the floorboard and broke apart. She gripped her steering wheel with blanching knuckles, but it didn’t help. The current pushed her little Beetle off the concrete road into the water. It tipped to the left and then righted itself. The Volkswagen bobbled but favored the left side. She leaned toward the center and frantically looked around. Men and women ran from vehicles along the side of the normally dry gulch.

Hysteria barely in check, she pounded the windshield and screamed, “Help me!”

The people were throwing ropes across the river down from her car. Thank God, they’ll catch the car. Her eyes met theirs. They were yelling something at her.

“What?” She rolled down her window.

“Don’t move,” the crew hollered. “Don’t move!”

Three men spilled from a black Hummer. Many voices yelled for her to be still.

A warm sensation cascaded over her like a sheer drape. Her fear flushed out like a drain and peace filled her heart. She would be saved. She sat back in her seat and sighed.

Her VW jerked, and her head slammed against the steering wheel. The ropes had caught. The current roared against the hull, filling her ears, drowning out the people’s voices. A warm trail of fluid ran down her neck. She touched her chin. Blood! Fear crept back and tightened in her throat. Like a terrifying roller coaster, she tipped in her seat. Her car was rolling over! She screamed as it continued to tumble.

Water punched her in the face and shoved past her as it poured into her car, quickly filling it. Panic clawed at her mind as the water engulfed her. Her door opened. She jerked her head toward it. A man! She could get out. She grabbed at his shoulders, his arms, whatever she could get hold of to pull herself out. But she couldn’t get out! She was stuck. He pushed back from her.

Oh No! Don’t leave me!

Her lungs burned. Raw pain tore at her throat. Choking convulsions. Pain…fading…darkness.

*

White blanched everything. Rose blinked. White walls, white ceiling, white sheets. She strained to focus on the swaddled baby in her arms. His dark fuzzy crown and pale-blue eyes were just like her own. His nose was small, like hers, but his jaw was square, like his father’s. His fingers were long, almost oversized for his tiny six pound, thirteen ounce body. She drew in the moist smell of his skin before she tenderly kissed his petal-soft cheek. Her eyes filled with tears as the lady lifted him from her shoulder.

“You’re doing the right thing, hun,” she said. The tuft of his blanket protruded from the lady’s elbow as she walked away. She couldn’t make sense of how she felt, peaceful, yet so desperately sad. A male nurse’s face moved into Rose’s visual range. He had a beard and kind eyes.

“You have to wake up,” he said. “Rose, you have to come back.”

“No. Please let me stay with Daniel!” She struggled.

“It’s not your time.”

*

A buzzing crescendo evolved into muffled voices. Pain. Choking. Rose couldn’t raise her head. Her body rolled to the left as awful tasting water expelled from her mouth. Was she strapped to a board? Painful coughing. She was lowered back down. Her eyes fluttered open. They stung so bad. She blinked. Nothing would focus. People pressed in around her. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Oh the pain. She coughed violently. Why couldn’t she move? She struggled against the straps holding her arms down. Her body suddenly rose in the air. A lady said something in her face. She couldn’t understand. Silver walls and two doors closed. The lady sat next to her. She wore a blue zip-up jumper. “Paramedic” was embroidered above her left front pocket. Rose tried to focus. Her hand rose to touch the tubes rising from her side. A siren screamed, and the vehicle’s motion shook her back and forth.

An ambulance? Who? Who was that man? The lady leaned toward her and said something again, patting her shoulder. What did she say? It seemed like she slid away. The siren faded farther and farther. Blackness overtook her vision. Silence.

Had she died?

*

Two days later, Rose sat on her couch. A Castle rerun played on the TV, but she couldn’t concentrate. The pain meds made her mind fuzzy. Keisha had swept by the hospital, driven her home, given her the second dose of antibiotics and a Lortab for pain, and run back to the bakery.

That was—she looked at her wristwatch—two hours ago. Thank God for Keisha Moore. Without her to keep the bakery open, who knew what would have happened while Rose recovered. Was she supposed to feel this loopy…and bored? She leaned back on the armrest and closed her eyes.

Her hand automatically came up to touch the front of her T-shirt. Her mother’s amulet was gone. Tears stung behind her eyelids. Her heart ached for its comfort. Touching it made her mother’s presence palpable. Tears spilled onto the cushion. It was stupid to cry over a piece of jewelry when she could have lost her life—

The phone rang. She sat up and focused on the phone. It rang again. She padded over and stared at it. It rang again. She lifted the receiver. “Hello.”

“I-Is this Rose Bauer?” a man asked.

“Who’s calling?” Rose tried to sound sober. She prayed the meds didn’t slur her speech.

“My name is Zeke. Zeke Clay— I…I was the guy who—”

Oh my gosh, this is the guy. From the flood! “Are you the man who pulled me out of the river?”

“…Yes.”

*

Rose couldn’t dial the cell phone quickly enough. Finally it was ringing.

“Rose’s Bakery, this is Ke—”

“Keisha! You’re not going to believe who just called!” she squealed.

“Who?”

“The guy…from the flood!” Rose began to cry.

“No!”

“And you’re not going to believe what he has.” She didn’t wait for Keisha to respond. “Momma’s necklace!”

“Seriously? That’s crazy.”

“I know, right. When can you get home? He’s bringing the necklace…and some hamburgers.”

“Oh, Rose. You shouldn’t let a stranger into the house.” Keisha scolded.

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know, but he sounds really, really nice. And I told him you’d be home soon. He’s coming in about an hour.”

“Yeah, but Jack the Ripper probably sounded really, really nice, too.”

“Oh Keisha—”

“Well? You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Then get home as soon as you can.”

“All right, but you be careful. Leave the front door open once he gets there. And call me if you get any weird vibes.” Keisha disconnected.

Rose giggled. Keisha was so protective. Probably a good thing. More than likely, she wasn’t thinking clearly.

There’s something about a man who jumps into a river and saves your life that just makes a girl trust him. She leaned back on the couch and tried to remember his face. All she could recollect was the suffocating water and overpowering fear. She remembered seeing the man, grabbing at him. But she couldn’t remember his face.

Another face floated to the surface of her mind. She squeezed her eyes. No, she wouldn’t think about Daniel. She had done the right thing. It was behind her.

Eventually, she heard a car pull up to the curb. Wow! An Escalade.

A lean man, who looked to be about her age, with a shaved head and closely trimmed, light brown goatee, stepped out of the black SUV. His pants were pressed and his dress shirt sleeves were folded up to his elbows. He looked like he had come from a meeting.

He’s cute. She hurried to the door and pushed the screen door open. “Zeke?”

Lord, what if this wasn’t even him.

He stood a head taller than her. But who didn’t? His warm brown eyes looked down into hers. He seemed to hesitate. Then he said, “Yes.”

She swallowed. “You…wanna come in?” Don’t act stupid! “My roommate will be home any minute.”

She scanned the street. Nothing. But, he’d been reminded she had a roommate, and they would not be alone for very long. Keisha would be proud of her proactive—yeah, whatever.

“Sure.” He stepped over the threshold.

She led him to the dining room and gestured toward the table. He sat down two Big Poppa’s Diner sacks and a drink tray. She concentrated on the drink cups. Were there three drinks? Why three? She looked up at him.

He shrugged. “For your roommate.”

How thoughtful. She grinned and tucked unruly hair behind her ear. Why hadn’t she run a comb through this mess, put on lip gloss—something. She pulled out a chair and sat on her foot, like always. She tried to ignore how carefully he lifted a chair and sat down. He looked so uncomfortable. She glanced at the front door. She’d left it open. Just in case.

Her mouth watered as the smell of burgers reached her senses. She reached into the bag, then hesitated. What had he bought? “Are they the same?”

“Yeah, easier that way.”

She pulled warm wrappings from the sack. There were three. Ah, he’d gotten a burger for Keisha, too.

She looked up at him. He was so cute. She cleared her throat and looked back at the sacks. Ketchup?

“Oh, and you remembered extra ketchup. Thank you so much.” Shut up, Rose. Why was she babbling like an idiot? She tucked her hair behind her ear even though it was already there.

“Sure,” he said.

He had a nice voice. Kind of deep, but not too baritone. Heat flushed her face. She lowered her gaze to the burger. Stop staring at the guy! Eat! She lifted the burger to her mouth and took a bite. Hmm. It was so good. She didn’t realize how tired she was of hospital food until this very minute. She savored the taste as she slowly chewed and swallowed.

Her eyes lifted to his. This is the man who saved my life. He’s right here in my house. Her chest filled with emotions she couldn’t explain. What was his name? Zach? No…Zeke? That’s right.

“Zeke, you dove in that water…” Did she just blurt that out? “…and pulled me out.” Tears filled her eyes.

“Yeah.” He softly chuckled.

He was so humble. What a sweet man. She loved his laugh.

“I fought you. I was so scared. I’m sorry. And thank you so much.” She couldn’t stop herself. She was overflowing with appreciation. Or was it the meds? Without thinking, she leaned over and lightly kissed his cheek.

He stiffened.

She quickly sat back down. Oh no, what did she just do? Where’s Keisha? She really was not thinking straight.

He stood, and Rose cringed. Oh no, he’s leaving. She’d made a fool of herself. He was weirded out by her. But he didn’t walk away. He reached in his pocket. What was he doing? Forcing herself to sit still, she watched his hand emerge from his khaki pants. He held out…her mother’s amulet.

“Oh. Thank you.” She held out her hands. He lowered the amulet into her palms.

No way did she think she’d ever see this again. She gingerly picked it up by the chain. It was just a turquoise stone, set in gold with a golden eagle feather and three crosses across the face of the stone. Regardless of its true value, it was precious to her.

He swallowed hard. “How—”

She looked up at him.

He eyed the amulet. “How did you get this necklace, again?”

“It belonged to my mother.” She giggled. That wasn’t exactly the truth. It went back further than that. “And her mother and her mother. Gosh, I don’t know how far back it goes.”

She had diarrhea of the mouth. She just couldn’t stop talking. What was wrong with her? Was it the pain medicine or something about this guy?

“I heard it went back to a sister of my mother’s great, great grandmother. Or something like that.” Would she ever shut up? Heat blazed her cheeks. Words continued to spill from her mouth, “Her name was Rosa…Lehman. I suppose that’s where I got my name. You know, it’s been in the family a long time. It represents true love.”

Why did I say that?

“That’s what my mother said, anyway.” She pressed her lips together. Maybe, if she bit down on them, she’d stop blabbering.

“Yeah, it does,” Zeke sounded so emotional. How odd.

Her eyes darted back to his. “What?” How’d he know?

He eased back down in his chair. “Rose.”

She liked her name on his tongue.

He picked up a fry and dragged it through the ketchup. “Do you believe in destiny?”

What? Destiny? Of course she believed in destiny. Only problem for her was that Destiny had been pretty abrasive so far. Nothing had gone right in her life. She furrowed her brow.

Until, maybe, now. She had been saved from drowning. A smile forced itself onto her mouth. This man saved her life. If this was Destiny’s doing, maybe Destiny was turning around for her. At last.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Why?”

Whatever he said next, she waited breathlessly to hear. This could be the answer she’d been waiting for all her life. This guy. This hero of hers. He could, quite possibly, be the one.

The one who would turn everything around in her life and make things start going right for her. At long last. She forced her attention on him. His face.

He was so cute.

Chapter two

Eight months later…

Rose breathed an exasperated sigh. This was ridiculous. Conflicting emotions mingled like supernatural vines on a trellis in her gut as the morning sunlight replaced the ebbing sleepless night. Zeke, her dear Zeke, had helped her plan everything. He knew what he was doing, even if she didn’t. She glanced again at the alarm clock. Seriously? Only four-thirty?

Why fight it? She flung the comforter off her body and surrendered. One good thing she realized upon standing, there wasn’t even a hint of a migraine—yet.

She could pull this off.

Padding to the kitchen, she stretched and yawned.

“What are you doing up?” Keisha asked. Red-silk pajamas flowed across her long dark arms and legs. She was beautiful, even before coffee.

Rose choked on her yawn. “Oh! I didn’t know you were up.” Her heart pounded absurdly fast. She cleared her throat. The dark brunette rat’s nest she called hair tickled her face. She shoved it back behind her ears.

Keisha reached for the usual two ceramic cups. Hers read, Give me coffee and no one gets hurt. Rose’s had a single pink rose.

“You can’t sleep?” Keisha filled them both and handed the one to Rose.

“No.” Rose glanced up into Keisha’s sleepy eyes. “I know it’s silly, but I’m scared and excited at the same time.”

“What? You really that worried about cookin’ Thanksgivin’ for your lovah boy?” Keisha smiled behind her coffee cup.

“Look, this is the first time I’ve cooked a Thanksgiving meal.” Rose closed her eyes and exhaled.

“Yeah, but it’s just Clifford and Pastor V…and Ms. Rivers.” Keisha looked into Rose’s eyes. “You can do this! It’s not that much different from baking at work.”

“I know, but cookies and muffins really are different from stuffing and sweet potatoes, besides if it weren’t for mom’s recipes we wouldn’t have a bakery.” Grief raised its ugly head as she mentioned her mom. She shoved it aside. No time for that today.

Keisha shrugged in agreement, and then her mouth curled up on the right side. “Listen, you want me to call mom and dad? Tell them I can’t come this year?”

“You look like the Grinch when you smile like that.” Rose placed two strawberry muffins in the microwave. “No, no. Don’t use me as an excuse to miss your family time. You see them so seldom as it is.”

“Well, they live as far from me as I live from them.”

Rose knew Keisha loved her parents, but they just weren’t close like Rose had been to hers. It broke Rose’s heart knowing Keisha had two living parents just over a hundred miles up the highway, and she only visited them on holidays.

She stared at Keisha for a moment. “Besides, Zeke planned the whole menu and it’s all semi-homemade. Really, I can do this.”

Keisha cocked her head back on her shoulders, like a pigeon, and gave that look Rose knew only too well. “Semi-homemade?”

Rose giggled. “That’s what Zeke calls it. It’s where you buy store-bought, packaged food and then ‘enhance’ it with tender love ’n care at home.”

“Oh.” Keisha sipped her coffee. “Sounds like you’ll do fine.”

Rose nodded as she handed Keisha a muffin on a plate. She knew it would be all right, too. If only she could convince the knots in her tummy.

She welcomed the steaming hot coffee into her system. She loved coffee. It went so well with muffins. She smiled as Keisha shoved a piece of the muffin in her mouth and washed it down.

What would she do without her best friend?

Like Coffee and Cream, her father had teased them. Opposite in skin color but bonded in spirit. Since kindergarten, Keisha had been like a sister. A taller and more level-headed sister. She’d been Rose’s rock through everything. She didn’t judge her, and she unconditionally loved her. Just like she assumed a real sister would do.

Rose, like Keisha, had been an only child. But if she could have been on the pre-conception committee meeting in heaven before she and Keisha were born, she’d have asked for this very person to be sent to earth as her sister.

“So, you got your meds?” Keisha had an uncomfortable look in her eyes.

“Yes.” Rose stared at the table. She knew what Keisha was really asking. And the answer was ‘No.’ She had not told Zeke about her migraines.

There was something about the migraines that scared Rose. She didn’t want anybody to know the voice she heard out of the blood curdling pain, or the shadow that reached out to her in the searing white light behind her eyes. That’s what happens to people who go crazy. She couldn’t tell anybody she was going crazy. She’d been through enough already, without adding going crazy to the list.

She hadn’t even told Keisha how bad they had become, or how terrified Rose was every time she had one. She might have had seizures, too. Twice she’d woken up curled up on the floor, tangled in her covers, with her body hurting like she had strained every muscle.

No. That she’d keep to herself.

She sat alone, after Keisha walked out of the kitchen, and drank her coffee. The shower came on. Keisha would soon head north to Denver. Rose had better get ready, too. The twenty-five miles to Zeke’s place took over forty minutes winding through the mountains.

Now the important question: What to wear?

*

Although it would be an hour or so before the sun crowned the Iron Mountain to the East, the blush of dawn cast a skewed shadow across the tomato red, hand-carved double doors. Rose stepped into the shadow of the river-rock walled porch of Zeke’s house. A mansion, really, even though he continually dismissed its grandeur with a humble, “Just part of the inheritance.” But, seriously, what else do you call a five-thousand square foot log home nestled in the mountains? The Clayton Estate, as the locals of Cañon City called it, was anything but a modest log cabin.

The huge door opened before she touched the doorbell. The smile on Zeke’s face lit up her heart.

Rose touched the amulet beneath her blouse. It had been the very thing that brought her and Zeke together. Perhaps the legend was right–it was a symbol of true love. The persistent grief for her parents dulled a bit.

She could do this.

He pulled her into a sweet embrace. “Hey, baby,” he mumbled.

She wrapped her arms around his slim waist and pressed her face into his waffle knit shirt. He smelled fresh-out-of-the-shower good. She drew in the essence that was so uniquely Zeke and sighed. She could feel his chin against her crown. His warm breath brushed her hair.

“Stop smelling my hair!” She laughed and pushed him back into the entryway.

“I can’t help it. I love your shampoo.” He grabbed for her as she twisted out of his grasp.

That ornery smile he bore did something unexplainable to her insides. “You and your shampoo fetish.”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. The twinkle remained in his eyes.

She tore her gaze from his. “Okay, where is everything?” She moved straight toward the kitchen. The eighteen-pound turkey lay in the sink thawing. Four blue silkscreened cloth grocery bags sat on the counter. She pulled the freezer open and spied the pumpkin pie. Everything was here. Her gaze came back to the Butterball.

“So…” She turned to face him. “How is it that you’re gonna grill this turkey? Outside? With charcoal?” She couldn’t imagine.

“I learned this culinary technique from the Hoof and Claw in Austin.” His golden-brown eyes smiled warmly.

She stared into his inviting gaze and let his arms envelop her waist. Then his words sunk in. What? She pulled back. “The Hoof and what?”

“It’s a steak house where I worked as a cook, in Austin, before I came here. I told you about this. Didn’t I?”

“A steak house”—she furrowed her brow but her mouth twitched with a telltale smile—“cooked turkeys…on a grill?”

“Yes, during the holidays. They had a huge barrel grill out back. Bob cooked six of ’em at a time. And they were delicious, beautifully dark brown. Just you wait and see.”

She drew in a long pull of air and let it out quickly. “If you say so...”

“Ah, grasshoppah.” Zeke grinned. “You must learn to trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you Mr. Clayton.” She held his gaze. “Really I do. With my life, remember?”

Sincere gratitude filled her heart. Sober appreciation melted her smile. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I don’t ever want to take you for granted. I would’ve drowned if it weren’t for you.” Despite her bravado, residual fear clung to her memory. It gnawed at her gut, even with the eight months’ passage.

“There were a lot of people there. Somebody would have gotten to you.”

Her eyes flew open. “No, no they wouldn’t. Not in time. You didn’t even hesitate. You jumped in and pulled me out. If you hadn’t swam to me when you did…” Her voice hitched in her throat. She shuddered to think—

“It’s just…” She glanced over at the sacks on the counter. Could she make this entire meal, really?

Keep it simple, darling. She heard her mother’s advice. It was the same way she ran her bakery. From the beginning, she knew nothing about baking, but this was her one chance to have something of her own. She kept it simple and, so far, it was working.

A knot twisted in her chest. She suppressed the sigh and tried to smile instead.

“What?” Zeke bent his neck to level his eyes with hers.

“Nothing.” She blinked to stifle the tears. “I just miss my folks on the holidays.”

She stared at her feet. She didn’t mean to bring that up. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil this day with her own self-absorbed pity.

“I understand.” Zeke squeezed her close and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Enough of this!” She pulled back and forced a smile. “You go do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”

Zeke spun around. “Let the magic begin.”

She laughed as he held up an imaginary sword, grabbed the turkey by the plastic handle and marched out the back door.

Lord, what if he knew all she held deep in her heart. He adamantly insisted Destiny had led him to her door. Perhaps that was true. But how strong could Destiny bind two souls...when one was as tainted as hers. How fast would he leave her if he knew the truth?

She shrugged the thought off like an unwanted hand on her shoulder. Not today! She could do this. For Zeke. She just needed to get organized. The kitchen was spotless. Gratitude skipped through her heart for Zeke’s uncle’s employment of a weekly maid service and year-round landscaping crew. Zeke had changed very little since he received the inheritance, including these services. All she would have to do was clean up after the meal.

She emptied the bags and arranged the groceries on the counter. Canned foods, to be opened and heated on the stove, went to the left.

She held up the canned turkey gravy. Oh, happy day when she realized Safeway had canned gravy. She nearly did a happy dance in the aisle. All she had to do was heat it through and serve. Hopefully it tasted as good as the picture on the can looked.

The cranberry sauce didn’t need cooking. She pushed it back and pulled forward the Family Style Stove-top Stuffing mix. She’d sauté diced onions and celery to add to the mix and improve the stuffing. That tender love ’n care that Zeke had taught her.

Sure, she could do this.

She bit her lip and continued. Rolls and the pumpkin pie needed to be baked. She pulled the pie from the freezer and shoved it to the right with the rolls. Last but not least, a dozen eggs for boiling. Mmmm, deviled eggs.

Dad—her heart cramped—always loved her deviled eggs. She stamped her foot and forced the tears back into a box deep inside her soul.

Not. Today. She gritted her teeth.

After she turned the oven to three hundred and fifty degrees, she removed the frozen pie from the box. As quick as possible, she opened everything and put it in a pan, a casserole dish, or a bowl. The kitchen already began to smell like Thanksgiving. Lifting the trash bag, she twisted the top and set it in the butler’s pantry next to the kitchen. Outta sight, outta…well, nobody will know this meal wasn’t made from scratch.

Rose scanned her prep work and nodded with satisfaction. It all looked homemade.

Excellent! That was the whole idea.

She glanced out the window. Zeke sat in an Adirondack chair on the deck staring out into the garden. His long blue jeaned legs stretched out in front of him. He had pushed his gray waffle knit shirt up on his lean, muscular arms. A flush of heat rose in her cheeks. He’s such a sweet man. She could watch him all day. So lucky. Who would’ve ever thought she’d find such a wonderful man? According to Uncle Russell they didn’t exist. But what did he know?

Blue smoke rose from the charcoal chimney. He’d started the coals. How he loved to grill.

She slapped the counter with the flat of her hand. She needed to talk to him. Everything had to be timed out just right, and it was all based on the bird. She opened the door and stepped onto the deck.

“Zeke, how long ’til the turkey’s done?” She stepped up to a wrought-iron chair and reached out to lay her hands on its frame. A static shock arced and bit her finger.

A broad smile lit up his face as he spun around. His eyes met hers. He seemed to be sliding away along with the composite deck and garden, like an oil painting melting off the canvas. The smile waned from his face. He moved to get up, but it was in slow motion. His voice, deep and drawn out, called out to her, “Rose, are you all right?”

He moved like a marble through thick oil toward her. He was so far away.

An extremely bright light flooded Rose’s vision. Somewhere on the other side of the light she heard him calling, “Roooose!”

Lightning streaks flashed and crackled behind her eyelids. A high pitched sound penetrated her brain, carrying along with it white-hot pain. Deep in the light and the pain, a murmuring voice resonated. The words were lost against the high-pitched noise. She ground her teeth as the pain blew up like a ball of electricity behind her eyes.

Zeke’s presence drew her to him. His voice forged a path. She focused on him, until he was closer and closer. At last she felt his arms around her.

Her eyes fluttered open. With each blink, Zeke’s worried face became more focused. The light and the pain waned, leaving a dull ache in its wake. She reached out to touch the deck beneath her. “What? What happened?”

“You fainted.” He held her wrist and counted her pulse.

Always the EMT student. She pulled away. So much for keeping that a secret. “Could—could you get me some water?”

“Sure.” He helped her to the Adirondack chair, looked deep into her eyes, and then rushed to the kitchen.

She shook her head. He had checked her pupils.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he called from the kitchen.

She mentally assessed her limbs, her vision was clear. The sound had faded. She didn’t feel dizzy or weak. “Yes, I’m okay.” Just humiliated was all. She moved to stand.

“Stay there. Keep your feet up, drink the water, and see how you feel in a minute,” Zeke pleaded as he handed her a bottled water. “H-has this happened before?”

Rose touched his cheek and smiled. “Dear man, you’re always saving me.”

“That’s my job.” He smiled and touched her arm. Concern had crowded out any other emotion from his eyes. He ran his hand down her arm like he would an accident victim to calm them down.

A warm sensation fluttered through her core.

“Seriously, have you fainted like this before? Do you have problems with your blood sugar…?”

She shook her head. Maybe she could figure out a way to blow this off as nothing. But how do you hide a five-hundred-pound gorilla?

She looked at the charcoal chimney. The smoke had died down. “Look.” She pointed. “Your coals are ready. Go.” She shoo-flied him. “Go fix your bird.”

His gaze flickered back to her as he returned to the grill and dumped the coals in a uniform circle. He cut the plastic away from the turkey and salted and peppered it generously.

“Oh. That’s why I came out. I need to know how long ’til the bird’s ready.”

“You hungry?” he teased as he lifted the bird and placed it on the grate.

“No, silly. I want to have everything else ready.” She stood. Her knees held but her head swooned. She tucked a thick lock of hair behind her ear and then put her hand on the back of the chair, as if she were simply touching it to walk around the thing. Steady does it.

Zeke was beside her in a flash. His arm wrapped around her waist. “Why don’t you go lie down?”

She held up her hand. “I’m fine. How long ’til the turkey’s ready?”

“About four hours.” The worry remained in his eyes.

“Okay, then. I’m going back inside and start baking the pie.” She held up a stop gesture. “I promise to take it easy. Besides, the pie has to cool at least two hours.”

She gently shrugged off his arm, made a reassuring smile, and gracefully entered the kitchen. Once inside the door, out of his sight, she leaned on the counter. The cool granite smoothed her frazzled nerves. Please God, not today.

She drank down the water and threw the bottle in the recycle bin. Drawing herself up straight, she pulled in a deep breath. Come on, you can do this.

Zeke peeked around the kitchen door. “Are you positive you’re all right?”

She ran her finger behind her ear as if she were tucking her hair back, even though it had not moved. “Yes, I’m positive. It’s just a headache trying to start. It caught me by surprise, that’s all.” She looked away. Would he believe that? Lame as it was?

She forced a warm smile. “I have some medicine. I’ll take it, and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure? I thought you had been electrocuted.” He released a nervous chuckle.

“No, just static electricity, and…I don’t know…it just caught me off guard. Now,”—she flapped her hand toward him—“tend to your bird.”

She glanced toward her collection of bowls and pans on the counter.

“Rose.” Zeke touched her shoulders and gently turned her around. “Please, indulge me.” He directed her to sit at the breakfast table.

She complied with a large sigh but refused to look into his eyes. She stared out the bay window. The sun’s warmth bore through the morning clouds. It looked cool, not cold. A perfect autumn day, really.

The oven’s buzzer went off.

She sighed again, turning her gaze to his expectant face. “The oven’s ready.”

“Hmm?” He tenderly pinched the skin on the back of her hand. She watched it return. She wasn’t dehydrated.

“Zeke, I need to bake the pie. Come on. I’m fine, really. If I feel lightheaded, or…anything, I’ll sit down.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, dear man, I promise.” She rolled her eyes. “Go tend to your bird.”

Zeke walked out onto the deck, but kept his eyes on her.

She loved him for his attention, but right now, she needed him to ignore her long enough to convince him it was nothing. Shaking her head, she put the frozen pie on the middle rack and set the timer for fifty minutes. She reorganized the pots and dishes in the order in which they needed to be cooked and looked around. What had she forgotten?

Oh, the eggs!

The incident slipped back into the shadows of her mind, her focus now on her task at hand. She found a large saucepan perfect for the eggs and glanced at her wristwatch. Once they start to boil, she’d turn the fire off, put a lid on the pan, and let them sit in the boiling hot water for exactly thirteen minutes. She watched for the first bubble.

Boredom quickly set in. Did she really have to stare at the water until it boiled? No. She glanced at her purse. She’d take two pills just in case. She pulled out the brown prescription bottle and tipped two Imitrex into her palm. She placed them on her tongue and sipped water from her cupped hand under the faucet. Then she tossed her head back and swallowed. There! All taken care of. No more intrusion from the monsters she kept at bay. Now she could concentrate on Zeke and this Thanksgiving meal.

A twinge of guilt tapped on her brain. She really ought to tell him what was going on. He had medical training. He couldn’t be fooled as easily as she’d like. Ignoring the problem was certainly not making it go away. And keeping secrets was no way to start a relationship. Then again, would she have a relationship to keep if he knew the truth? All of the truth? Not just the headaches...

but everything?

Chapter three

“Oh, my, that was delightful.” Zeke’s elderly, distant aunt, Twyla Rivers, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Her feet dangled from the formal dining chair. Even today, she dressed in her courtroom intimidating red suit-dress.

“Boy howdy, you sure can cook a meal.” Pastor Vince James winked at Rose and patted his taut shirt covered by a black leather vest. He wore his usual leather attire. Rose snickered to herself. He looked more like a Hell’s Angels motorcycle gang member than an evangelical pastor.

Zeke beamed. “She’s a great cook, Pastor. I’m a lucky man.”

Clifford Valdez, Zeke’s other cousin, who was Zeke’s age, wiped his mouth precisely with the cloth napkin. He was the only man Rose knew who could do that without messing up the folds. He nodded in agreement with his great aunt Twyla. His eyes smiled as he met Twyla’s gaze.

Rose wrinkled her nose toward Zeke. A blush warmed her cheeks. “Hey, who wants pie?”

Everyone responded with affirmatives.

“Babe.” Zeke stood and leaned in front of Rose, staring at her teeth. “You’ve got something right there.” He pointed at his teeth.

Rose’s eyes darted left and right, as she brought her fingers up to her lips. “Seriously?”

“You might want…to…go—” He pointed toward the hall bathroom and turned to the others. “I’ll get the pie. Y’all stay seated.” He strode from the formal dining room toward the kitchen as Rose scurried down the hall to the bathroom.

Her ears burned with embarrassment. She peered into the mirror, opened her mouth, parted her lips like a caricature smile, and ran her tongue across her top teeth.

I don’t see anything. What was Zeke talking about? She leaned closer to the mirror but couldn’t see food in her teeth. She leaned over, scooped up water with a cupped hand and swished the cool liquid in her mouth, then spit it out into the black marble bowl. She looked again, still nothing. Shrugging, she towel dried her face and hands, turned off the light, and returned to the dinner guests.

Every eye was on her as she walked back into the dining room. Her eyebrows pressed together, as she scanned the faces. Stupid grins were on everybody’s face. Was Clifford tearing up?

“What?” She stepped closer to her chair and looked down at her dessert plate. In the center of the gold rimmed bone china was a small, rounded, red-velvet box. Her eyes went wide as they met Zeke’s.

He stood stiffly, holding the back of her chair as if he were about to seat her. Instead he pulled the chair out, knelt on one knee, and picked up the velvet box.

Twyla sniffed.

“Oh, Zeke.” Rose sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down.

“Miss Rose Ingrid Bauer,” Zeke said.

Rose squeaked, “Oh.”

“The day I met you, you changed my life. You changed my world. You and I are bound in spirit by destiny. I thank God every day for leading me to you.” He swallowed.

“Will you honor me and fulfill our destiny by becoming my wife?” Zeke’s eyes glistened with moisture.

Rose stared at his tender, sweet face. She glanced down at the vintage diamond ring set in platinum. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

A vision flashed in her mind. Handcuffs biting into her wrists. A state trooper shoving her into the back seat of a patrol car. The residual stench of vomit and booze.

Then her mind flipped. Another vision flickered in her mind. The smell and feel of the baby’s still moist face as she kissed him one last time. Her hair soaking wet from her own endless tears. A syringe pierced her IV. Darkness closed in around her.

She blinked and swallowed hard. How could she say yes? The truth was an anvil dragging her down into her past. She had so much hidden from this wonderful man. It wasn’t fair to agree to marry him without letting him know who she really was, what she’d done. “Oh, Zeke, I—I can’t.”

“What?” His smile slid off his face like wax melting off a hot sheet of glass.

Startled eyes stared all around the table.

She turned away from them and ran upstairs.

The thick, feather comforter billowed as she fell onto the bed in the first guest bedroom. She pressed her face into her hands and wept.

Her uncle had warned her. Her past would keep her from having any kind of a decent relationship. Nobody would want her once they knew. But she hadn’t listened.

Zeke was a wonderful man. She had strong feelings for him. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this amazing man. But how could she without telling him the truth. About her. About her past.

A roiling storm cloud of pain grew behind Rose’s eye sockets. She rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. Crackling pops sparked from the light fixture like a fluorescent bulb about to go out. She wiped her cheeks with the tips of her fingers. She’d never flipped the switch, but the light sputtered, then swelled in intensity. The crackling grew, and with it, pain pierced her head like a white-hot poker. She curled up in a tight ball, with her arms over her head. Within the penetrating noise, she heard the voice. She tried to isolate the words from the noise. Focus on the voice. Ignore the pain. There was a familiarity to the voice. Who was it?

The room tossed her violently.

She could just make out, “Don’t...you...lies.”

“Who? What lies?” she screamed, but the noise drowned her out. Her neck jerked in one direction and her body contorted painfully in another. She gritted her teeth, tightened her muscles, and tried to stop whatever violently jerked her like a sheet flapping in the wind. Warm fluid flowed down her jaw, onto her neck. Was she bleeding?

“Rose.” Zeke sounded like he was on the other end of a bad connection.

“Zeke! Help me.” She tried to shout but her tongue felt too thick. The other voice blended with the din. In a flash, the bright light and the noise swooped away like a vacuum had sucked it into the ceiling.

Zeke’s arms warmed her trembling body. He stroked her hair and cooed softly in her ear. A soft, moist cloth passed across her lips and down her neck. She opened her eyes.

“Zeke.”

“I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered.

“Shhh.” He rocked her in his arms. “It’s all right. I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

“No. Please.”

“Baby, you need to go to the hospital. You’ve had two…incidences in six hours. We’re going to have you checked out.”

“But our guests?”

“They understand. They’ve already gone home.”

“Oh, Zeke. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” Compassion filled his eyes. “You feel like standing up?”

She grabbed at her blouse. The amulet rested beneath. She took a deep breath and let him guide her downstairs to his Escalade.

*

Dr. Rebecca Cooley slipped her pen into her lab coat breast pocket. “We’re not seeing anything to indicate a source for this seizure.” She scanned the chart. “You said it began with an intense pain behind your eyes?”

“Yes,” Rose said.

“And the worst of it was…five hours after you’d taken the Imitrex?”

“Well…” Rose glanced at Zeke. Now he knew she had migraine medicine.

He nodded.

Rose said, “…yes.”

“Two-hundred milligrams?” the doctor confirmed.

Rose nodded.

“Well”—Dr. Cooley glanced at Zeke then back at Rose—“I’d like to keep you overnight. Observe you another twenty-four hours. Just to be sure. I’ve ordered another CT in six hours. We can compare the two and see if there are any changes. As long as it continues to look clear, we can let you go home.”

Rose swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to stay in the hospital, but she knew Zeke wouldn’t let her leave. No making up a story now. He knew about the migraines, but he didn’t know about the voice. She pressed her head into the pillow and said, “Okay.”

A look passed between Zeke and the doctor.

Rose wrinkled her brow, but neither of them noticed her disapproval.

Dr. Cooley patted Rose’s arm before she left the room. What was that for? Be patient. Ah, she hated being told that! Even if it was subliminal.

Zeke took her hand into his and sat in the bedside chair.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She pulled her hand away. “You’re not staying here. I’m fine. It’s just a bad headache, and I’ve had them before. I—you…”

“Shhh,” Zeke cooed. “Just lay back and rest. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

She surrendered with a rebellious sigh.

A nurse swooped in and pushed something into her IV. “This will help you rest.”

A warm sensation flowed into her arm. The tranquil effect washed over her. She closed her eyes. Zeke’s touch drifted away.

*

Darkness. She could barely see where she was running. Why was she running? And from what? Desperation pushed her forward. Fear pricked her skin like a thousand needles. A river flowed to her right. Woods to her left. Across the river a yellow cat prowled. It stood upright on its hind legs.

She called to it.

It looked at her, blinked slowly, and turned away.

Why would it ignore her?

Rain fell. But the drops hurt when they hit her skin. It wasn’t water droplets. Nor hail stones. No, this was...crystal rain drops. They fell all around. She called to the cat for help. It glanced her way, but nothing registered in its gaze. It was as if she were invisible.

Deep in the woods, a wolf howled. The sound shot fear through her body like an arrow. The crystal rain drops fell harder and faster. It was too much. She collapsed under the pain, the pressure. Terror saturated her mind. She cried out as the stinging crystals continued to assault her body. It covered her completely. She could not move. A rock-hard cocoon formed around her. She pushed a shoulder against it. She was trapped! Panic exploded through her nervous system. She screamed—

“Rose,” Zeke’s voice called to her.

Where was he? Her eyes darted around. She forced herself to breathe slower so she could listen.

“Rose.” He sounded closer.

She pounded her fists against the crystal cocoon. “I’m here.”

Could he hear her? Did he know where she was? She had to get out!

Rose forced her eyes open. Bright lights flooded her vision. She squinted against the harshness.

Zeke’s face hovered over hers, blotting out the fluorescent lights behind him. He looked terrified. He was patting her hand.

“Zeke?” She gasped. The crystal cocoon? Her eyes darted around. She was in a bed. A hospital bed.

“You were dreaming.” He caressed her face with his hand.

“A dream?” She scanned the room. It was a dream. She sighed deeply and swallowed hard. “I—I was alone, by a river…”

“Shh.” Zeke stroked her hair. “It was just a dream. You’re all right. I’m here.”

“This yellow cat…” She sat up straighter. “Not like a sweet Garfield cat, more like the Cheetos Cat…human like…only dark, and he was—”

Zeke reached across her and pushed the “Call” button.

“He just...ignored me. Just like—” She swallowed. “And, the rain...it hurt...I was trapped.”

Rita, the day nurse, strolled into her room. “Did ya need something, hun?”

Rose mumbled, “I had a bad dream.”

Rita checked her IV tubes, pushed a button on the monitors, pulled out a length of paper and paused to review it.

Zeke waited until she finished, then he stood.

Rita seemed to fake a smile toward Zeke.

He tilted his head toward the door, and she nodded.

Rose frowned, but, again, neither of them noticed. She strained to hear what they said.

“She had a pretty bad dream. Could the meds be causing that?” Zeke asked.

There was silence, and then the nurse said, “Not really. We’ve already given her a sedative. Let’s dim the lights some more and see if that helps her rest. I’ll check on her in an hour.”

Zeke followed her back in and sat as she turned a knob to darken the lights above the bed.

Rose could feel Zeke staring at her as her breathing deepened. Her eyelids became so heavy. Her body relaxed. She felt a soft snore escape her lips, and she jumped. Zeke leaned his head against her bed rail and whispered something. He was praying. For her.

Was she really that sick?

Chapter Four

“How’s she doin’?” A man’s voice startled Zeke awake. He stared at the stranger standing next to Rose’s bed.

The man set a potted plant of dark-red mums on her bedside table and looked at Zeke. There was something unsettling about this man. The silver streaked, Fonzie-style hair had been slicked back into submission with obvious care. His blue jeans were pressed with crisp creases. A western style shirt with mother-of-pearl-buttons and starched to perfection, flattered his lean frame. The open collar exposed a heavy nugget chain. He had all the trappings of a civilized human being, yet Zeke instantly disliked the man.

He looked old enough to be Rose’s father. His smile revealed a full set of capped teeth. He had one light blue eye and one brown.

Hmm, Heterochromia? Was he born with it or was it caused by trauma?

Zeke hesitated, but then stood and extended his hand. He whispered, “I’m Zeke Clayton.”

The man was taller than him by about two inches.

“Hey, I’m Russell Bauer,” he spoke in a normal volume, which was too loud, especially while Rose slept. Zeke fought the urge to shush him.

“…Rose’s Uncle. I heard she was here. She all right…Clayton, is it?”

“Yeah, I think she’s all right. They’re running tests still. We should know better tomorrow morning.” Zeke continued to whisper, hoping the guy would catch on to be quiet.

Bauer stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“I’m Rose’s…we’re uh, we’ve been dating…since March.” Why was that so hard to say? If things had gone right, he’d be her fiancé right now.

“Huh.” Bauer pushed out his jaw and nodded once. “You’d think I’d know she was dating someone. And you’re Clayton? As in the Clayton Clan, right?”

“Yeah.” Zeke frowned. Not only was he rude, but he was not getting the hint to speak softer. “You and Rose close?”

“I’m all the family she’s got left.” His eyebrows stretched close to his receding hairline.

“Really? Huh. You’d think I’d know she had an uncle.” Zeke smiled inwardly.

“Well, I guess that makes us even.” His toothy smile exposed silver-lined gums.

This man could sell air conditioners in Alaska with that smile. Zeke considered this uncle of hers. Why hadn’t Rose mentioned him?

“Why’s she here?” Bauer glanced at the monitors.

Zeke paused. What should he say? “She had a seizure. Started with a migraine. She have them much? The migraines?”

“Yeah, I’m ’fraid so. Ever since her dad passed, she’s had terrible headaches. Might be guilt.” He shrugged, glanced at Zeke, then back at Rose. “Who knows?”

“It’s more than a headache—” Why did he feel compelled to explain? Did he say guilt? What did she have to feel guilty about?

Bauer smiled and nodded. “I’ve tried to help her, what I could. She’s not much for listening…”

What? A weird vibe tingled Zeke’s senses. And if this guy and Rose were so close, as he said, how come Zeke didn’t know he existed? That’s one he’d have to ask her...later. Not now. Get her well, get her home. Priorities.

“She…talk much?” Bauer asked, with a slanted gleam in his eye.

Zeke wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” He walked over to the window. “She mumbles when she’s having those headaches. Talks about—oh, you know, stuff. ”He glanced at Rose then back out the window. “I just wondered if she was doing that again.”

Why was he here? How’d he know she was in the hospital? Did Keisha tell him? But she was in Denver. What should he reveal? Perhaps it was Zeke’s silence, he didn’t know, but Bauer eventually turned to face him. Zeke stared into his duo-hued eyes. It was difficult to fix his eyes on one of the man’s irises. “She had a bad dream a few minutes ago.”

Caution. Zeke heard the Holy Spirit’s warning resonate in his mind. Bauer did ask odd questions. Zeke’s protection radar went on high alert.

Bauer pushed out his jaw. “She’s had a time of it, hasn’t she?” He chuckled. “Poor thing. Well, tell her I was by and give her my love.”

“I will…”

“And let her know I brought the flowers.” He smiled that toothy smile and turned to leave.

“Sure.” Zeke glanced at the potted mums.

*

“Uncle Russ?” Rose lifted her head and blinked the haziness from her eyes.

“Hey, baby girl.” Russ turned from the door and hurried to her side, lifting her hand in both of his.

She pulled away and searched the room for Zeke. “Why is my uncle here?”

Zeke closed the distance to her side. “Just dropped by, he says.”

“Well, I don’t want him here,” she said through clinched teeth. Her heart monitor beeped faster and her breathing increased.

“Maybe you should leave,” Zeke said, taking Rose’s hand.

Bauer leaned back and glanced between Zeke and his niece. An open-mouth smile split his face. “Well, I don’t want to...upset her. I just wanted to be certain you were all right, honey.”

Was there a tear in his eye?

She shook her head and turned toward Zeke. She widened her eyes, trying to make him understand she wanted this man out of her room.

Zeke stood still. “I think it would be better if you leave.”

Russ shrugged and strolled from the room.

She glared at the potted plant. Tears blurred her eyes. “Did he bring these?”

“Yes.”

“Throw them away.” She swung at the plant.

Zeke caught the plant as it slipped off her table.

“Okay, Rose. I’ll throw them away.” He dropped the flowers in the trash by the door and returned to her side. He stood silently and watched her. Concern filled his face.

He probably thought she was overreacting. But he didn’t know Russ. She swallowed and closed her eyes. Focus. Breathe. She listened to her monitors like bio-feedback. The rapid beeping slowed.

“Everything okay in here?” Rita hit the door as she rushed over to the monitors and checked the IV lines. “You all right, hun?” She looked directly into Rose’s eyes.

“I’m all right, now.” Rose’s breathing returned to normal.

Rita glared at Zeke. “Maybe you should let her rest.”

“No.” Rose struggled. “It wasn’t him. It—it was someone else. But…” Her eyes closed in spite of her effort to keep them open. The sedatives were stronger than her will. They pulled her back...down...into unconsciousness.

*

“But”—Zeke continued for her—“he’s gone now.”

Rita looked at him cautiously. “Well if she has another episode like that, you’ll have to leave, too.” Her shoes squealed as she spun to march out of the room.

“Yes ma’am,” Zeke said to her back. He turned toward Rose.

Her eyes rolled up. All he could see were white eyeballs. Froth oozed from her mouth as her body arced and her limbs drew up tight to her body.

Zeke screamed, “Nurse!”

Chapter Five

White light filled Rose’s vision. She lifted a hand to block the light. Hooves pounded in the distance.

“Rose.” She could faintly hear a voice above the wind whipping around her.

She strained to see a horse and rider staggering toward her.

Lee Bauer fell from a chestnut Arabian gelding and stumbled toward her. The howling wind and its gale-force kept him at a distance. Static crackled around him. His eyeballs lit up as if the static came from their center.

“Daddy?” she cried. Her hand guarded her face from the debris and the squall.

He spoke again. She strained to hear his words. “You know…he meant...you?”

“Who?”

“Russ… You know…he’s telling…?”His eyes flashed with the static.

“No, he didn’t tell me anything,” she screamed against the gale.

“…he did. Baby, be careful. …flowers…a message.” His silhouette blended with the debris clouding the tempest. She could no longer distinguish him from the tornado. Fingers of electricity reached out from the funnel. Cracked. Popped.

Rose covered her eyes. The light was so bright it hurt.

*

Rose moaned and pulled herself up into a sitting position. What time is it? She lifted her hand to shield her face and forced her eyes open. The excruciating light was gone. So was Zeke.

“Zeke?”

The constant beep, beep, beep of her monitors greeted her instead. She dropped her legs over the side of the bed and toggled the switch to lower it. When her feet touched the cold floor, she stood. The IV pulled tight, so she leaned over and pulled the stand around her bed. Pulling it beside her, she made her way across the room. The trash bin sat next to the door. The mums Zeke had tossed in there lay sideways and broken. She picked up the trash bin, opened her door, and flung it into the hall. With great satisfaction, she slammed the door, leaned on the IV stand like a walking staff, and gingerly padded back to her bed. Climbing back in bed, she hissed through her teeth, “Stupid…gargoyle…jerk.”

“Rose. What are you doing?” Zeke rushed into the room.

“Those mums.” Her words slurred and her tongue felt numb. “He gave me blood-red mums.”

“It’s all right,” Zeke said, gently easing her back down.

“You don’t get it. Zeke, they mean—he was delivering a message.” Rose struggled against his strong hands.

Rita hurried into the room. “What now?” She pushed Zeke out of her way and pressed Rose against her pillow. “Ms. Bauer, calm down.”

Another nurse rushed in. Her eyes darted from Zeke to Rose. “You’re going to have to leave, young man.”

Rose’s eyes fluttered.

One of them spoke to Zeke.

She heard the words, “You need to let her rest.”

She watched frustration wash over Zeke’s face. He kissed her forehead and left the room.

*

Rose’s cell phone rang. The screen read, “Baby Cakes.” She frowned. Zeke.

He knows I left the hospital. How mad will he be?

“Hello.”

“Rose, are you all right?” He sounded tired and worried.

“Yes, Zeke, I’m fine.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottled water.

“How’d you get my car back to my house?” she said softly.

“Clifford.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Silence filled the phone. “I called the hospital. They said you went home—AMA, Against Medical Advisement.”

“Yeah, I took the city bus. I promise I’m fine.” She drank from the bottle.

“Rose,” he complained. “Why didn’t you— What did the doctor say?”

“She gave me some medication for the seizures and renewed my ’script for the migr—for the headaches.” She sighed. “Look, she wanted me to stay another day because the tests had been inconclusive. But, it’s ridiculous. They’re not going to find anything. Not anything that will show up on film.”

A nervous giggle escaped her lips. Crazy doesn’t show up under magnetic resonance imaging. But how could she explain that? What if it wasn’t crazy? What if it was—she wouldn’t go there. Not even in her own thoughts. She would not accept that she was being haunted. No, crazy was probably better. At least it was something she could take a pill for. “So, I came home.”

“Rose...Honey.”

“What?” She sighed more heavily. “I’m fine. I promise.”

She couldn’t tell Zeke, not yet. But she would eventually. Then he’d break up with her. She’d go back to her lonely existence—baking cookies, dodging her narcissistic uncle, and trying to get through life without being wrapped in an I-love-me jacket and put in a padded room for the rest of her life.

That was a preview of Thorns of Betrayal. To read the rest purchase the book.

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