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“Will his dad be all right?” Despite how she felt about Rory at the moment, she could relate. He had to be devastated.
“Last I heard, Mr. Spence was in surgery. Hoping for the best.” Paige left the room, her boots tapping in a steady rhythm.
The woodpeckers she’d seen at the lake earlier had taken up residence inside her head. If she could lay down for a bit, maybe the pounding would stop. Despite restless, negative thoughts, she dozed. Every time she woke up, Rory’s text would slam into her consciousness, and the hammering would start up again.
Darkness had fallen by the time any pretense of rest had vanished. Cyrus had snuggled next to her, smelling of lake water. She tried to think about her next move, but the skid marks from her life still burned.
Even the house seemed to hold its breath. No kitchen noise or the sound of laundry or running water in the bathroom. Zip.
Vi stared in the dim light, then rolled over to switch on a lamp. A wrecking ball had swung through her life, leaving havoc in its wake. The one person she’d completely opened up to had stripped her of everything.
She spied Dad’s tablet on the end table. One letter remained. She’d cherished the connection the letters provided. As grueling as some of them had been to read, Daddy’s perspective had a healing effect. She felt a new strength coursing through her body. Reaching for the device, she thumbed through the file and clicked on his last letter.
Hey, Squirt.
I’m running out of things to say. Already told you most of what I needed to. Only a few more things.
After your ma left, I thought about getting married again. Have to admit, it gets lonesome rattling around here by myself. Glad you’re with me now. For a while, I thought about remarrying. With another woman around, it’d make things easier on you. Then I decided it wouldn’t be fair, 'cause I ain’t never gonna love another woman besides your mama.
All I really wanted was you anyway, so I stayed content at the plant and lived the hobo life. Rat-holed all my money so you could have it.
This land has a special purpose. I never figured it out, but I’m thinking you will. People can get quiet out here and heal. You got firsthand experience with it.
I said all I need to. This cancer’s about to get the best of my body. I’m grateful to know death ain’t the end of the road. God made a way for the best part of me to go live with Him. Kind of looking forward to it. Pastor assures me I’ll enjoy it something fierce.
You go on and have a good life, Red. Don’t you fret none over me. I’m going home, and I’ll be there waiting for you when it’s your turn.
The ache of her father’s passing flowed through her tears. “Goodbye, Daddy.” The clock on her bedside read 9:17. She’d wept a long time. Now she felt strangely relieved. The piercing grief she’d endured at Thanksgiving had ceased. Daddy’s letters, tough as they were to read, had provided closure.
A different grief was swallowing her—the shambles of her life and dreams. The tiny beginning of a life with the man she loved had snuffed out in a day. Rory’s zest for life had revived her own. But he’d moved on. Working on the house remodel together had deeply entwined their lives. How could she ever live there now? He had embedded himself into every piece of insulation, sheet of granite, every doorknob and handle.
Despite all the reminders of Rory, Vi had to go out there. Tonight. The lake still maintained its magic. Visions of smoke and trespassers came to mind, but she wouldn’t find any measure of peace until she’d seen the lake. She’d take Cyrus and a two-legged walking buddy. She pulled out her phone and turned it on. Several voicemails and texts from Rory. Why the overkill? He’d made himself clear the first time.
She texted Silas.
Meet me at the lake?
A minute later, he answered.
Be there in 15. Stay in your car until I get there.
Vi’s gaze caught on the heavy boot next to the wall. She hadn’t worn it much since the gala. Her ankle seemed fine. She snatched the jacket hanging on the back of her door. “C’mon, Cyrus.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Rory grew more frantic by the minute as he navigated the traffic. He’d left the hospital because he couldn’t reach anybody on his phone. Now he’d gained clear tower range and still no response. Not Paige or Jesse. Or Vi. He’d sent enough texts and voicemails to start a communication center with nary an answer. The lights of restaurants and businesses sparkled and winked at him as if his world hadn’t suddenly whipped to a halt. His leg ached, and his thoughts bounced, a virtual pinball machine.
Visiting hours were over. God, please watch over Dad tonight. Rory’s stomach rumbled. Lunch in the hospital cafe proved a tense affair, with Matt glowering at him in between bites. Rory couldn’t remember what he ate.
No twinkling Christmas lights shining at Paige’s house increased his anxiety. Think, Rory. Nobody home at this hour? Rory jammed the Lexus in reverse and headed to Vi’s house. The hospital atmosphere had reduced his brain to mush. The familiar smells and sounds had yanked him back into those awful days of rehab. He’d clawed his way past the pain and despair, only to have it smack him all over again with Dad.
Rory rolled next to Vi’s car and stopped. The porch light beamed a pale glow outside her house. Silas’s gray pickup was parked on the other side of her yellow bug. Rory’s heart plummeted. With blinding clarity, he understood why she hadn’t returned his calls.
Climbing out of his car, Rory tried to figure out what to do. If he waited here, surely Vi and Silas would saunter up from the lake. Part of him wanted to get back in his car and drive away. He’d foolishly believed her when she said she loved him.
Hands in his pockets, Rory stepped around to the hood of his car. A popping noise in the underbrush caught his attention. Dry leaves crunching under his shoes, he strode over to the edge of the brush. Smoke engulfed his nostrils, and a sudden blaze of heat seared his skin. He backed away. Rustling sounded behind him. A bright light flashed, and he crumpled.
Vi and Silas had strolled around the far end of the lake and were halfway to the house. She’d considered spilling the whole sordid story to Silas. Since his uncalled-for hug, however, he’d reverted to his unreadable self. The farther they walked without talking, the easier it became to say nothing at all. Rory may have betrayed her, but Vi had no desire to disclose it to anyone.
