“Mr. Buchanan?” Jessica asked.
“Yes, Kyle. Do you remember Kyle Buchanan? He’s one of our local firefighters. He was the first to arrive at the scene of your accident.”
Jessica felt like saying, “How could I ever forget that face, that voice!” But all she said was, “Yes, Kyle. Kyle Buchanan. I remember him.”
The doctor came closer; now he sounded like a concerned father. “In reviewing your chart, I see you haven’t listed an insurance carrier. Do you have any insurance, Miss Fenton? Any relatives we can contact?”
“No, I—”
“Is there anyone you know in Glenbrooke?”
“Yes, Hugh McGregor.” Her words came out slurred. “He’s the principal at the high school. He hired me. I’m a teacher.” She found p’s and m’s especially difficult to enunciate.
The doctor adjusted his glasses and gingerly sat on the edge of Jessica’s bed. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about Hugh yet.”
Jessica imagined the worst.
“He came in two days ago, apparently with a stroke. He’s in stable condition but has suffered partial paralysis. He’s not able to speak at this point.”
“Is he here now?” Jessica asked, trying to sit up and instantly feeling her head swim. “Can I see him?”
“He’s on the second floor. I do suggest you wait until the morning, Miss Fenton. The best thing for you is rest. You have quite a lot of adjusting to do when you get out of here in the morning. The nurse will be in soon to give you something to help you sleep. Good night.”
Dr. Laughlin strode to the doorway, where he stopped and turned around. He smiled sympathetically at Jessica and said, “By the way, welcome to Glenbrooke. I imagine you’ll have my daughter in your class. Dawn. Dawn Laughlin. She’ll be a junior this year. I’m told she’s the most popular girl in school.”
Jessica forced a lopsided smile and tried to nod. The way he announced this bit of news almost sounded as if he were apologizing, which made Jessica wonder what a doctor with a popular daughter would have to apologize for.
“Sleep well,” Dr. Laughlin said, and vanished into the brightly lit hallway, closing the door behind him.
With the pain reliever wearing off, the brunt of her aches and bruises assaulted Jessica in the stillness of the room. But the most painful sensation of all was realizing she was by herself in a hospital bed in a strange town, and her only friend lay in bed on the floor above her, in worse shape than she.
Tomorrow morning she would be released from the hospital, and then what? Where would she go? Mr. McGregor had set up her housing for her, but if he were unable to speak, how would she find out where she was supposed to live? And if she did find the house, how would she get there? Was anything left of her car? And what about all her belongings that had been so carefully packed and wedged into the back seat and trunk?
Another fear slowly crept over her, one that overshadowed all the rest. What if, somehow, in all this, her true identity were discovered? Everything would be ruined. After all her careful planning, all her efforts to cover any tracks that would trace her to this small town tucked away in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, could be destroyed with one tiny slip-up.
As tears began to form in her eyes, she remembered that today was her birthday. Turning her head into the stiff hospital pillow, Jessica sobbed out her fears and hurts. Never in her life had she felt so completely and painfully alone.
Chapter Two
Miss Fenton?” The morning nurse gently touched Jessica’s arm. “I need to take your temperature now.” Jessica rolled over and tried to focus on the woman standing by the bed. Then it all came back. The accident, the hospital, the stitches in her lip, and Kyle.
Funny that I should think of him. Jessica adjusted herself so the nurse could perform her duties.
“What time is it?” Jessica asked.
“Almost eight o’clock. You can go after the doctor sees you. Would you like some breakfast?”
“I guess. Sure.” Jessica thought of her bloody clothes and wondered where they were. She didn’t remember putting on the hospital gown.
The nurse finished taking Jessica’s blood pressure and marking the results on the chart. She then slipped out of the room and returned a short time later with a breakfast tray. Oatmeal, orange juice, and toast.
Jessica managed to take a few bites and decided it could be worse. She wasn’t sure how, but it could be.
As soon as the doctor on duty gave Jessica a quick check, the nurse opened a small closet door in the corner of the room and produced Jessica’s soiled clothes.
“I wish I had something else to wear. By any chance is there a shower around here?” Jessica’s first few steps were wobbly, and she felt light-headed, but she still had enough medication in her to numb the pain and get her through a quick shower. She emerged from the bathroom wearing her jeans and soiled T-shirt. She wished she had more to work with—even just her purse would help so she could brush her wet hair.
When she stepped back into her room, she heard a deep voice say, “Good morning.” Kyle sat in the corner chair by the window. On the bed was her purse and an extra-large white T-shirt with red letters announcing, “Eleventh Annual Glenbrooke Firefighters’ Pancake Breakfast.”
“We had a couple extras down at the station. I thought you might like something clean to wear.” Kyle smiled at Jessica, and she thought he looked like a shy boy. Quite a different expression from the one he had worn yesterday in the midst of the emergency.
“Thanks. I…I really appreciate it. This shirt is a mess.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Kind of shaky. You were really thoughtful to bring my purse and everything.” Jessica reached for her purse and the T-shirt, fully aware of how ridiculous she must look in a blood-stained shirt, with stitches in her lip and her long hair dripping on the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
Ducking into the bathroom, she noticed her hand was shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was the shock of the accident or the medication or perhaps the surprise of Kyle’s sudden presence. Why would he come back unless he was interested in her?
Jessica quickly brushed her hair and pulled out the small makeup kit in her purse. Looking in the mirror, with mascara tube in hand, she realized makeup was pointless. Her lip, still swollen, looked like something from a monster movie—all distorted, with the stitches sticking out along the top. Both her eyes had red, spider-web fingers radiating from the green center, and dark shadows ran along the lower lids. Her normally peachy complexion had taken on a gray-green tone in the fluorescent light of the small bathroom.
In many ways, she looked like a different woman from her appearance a week ago. And maybe she was.
“Forget it,” she muttered, jamming the wand back into the mascara tube. It wasn’t like her to go out in public without wearing makeup. It also wasn’t like her to don a T-shirt that advertised a pancake breakfast.
But she was in Oregon now. She wasn’t the same person. Everything was going to be different.
Jessica opened the bathroom door and tried her best to look dignified. “Thanks again for bringing my purse. And I haven’t thanked you yet for everything you did yesterday. I really appreciate it.”
Kyle’s smile hinted at his shyness again. “Don’t mention it. I came back because I thought maybe you could use a ride somewhere.”
Jessica sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling exhausted at the thought of all that lay before her that day. She decided to tell Kyle about Mr. McGregor, her job at the high school, and how she didn’t know where her new house was. She felt vulnerable, but she carefully guarded her words. “I’d like to go upstairs to see Mr. McGregor. If he can’t talk, then I guess…I guess…I’m not sure what I’ll do next.”
Kyle rose and came over to where Jessica sat. He spoke kindly and calmly, as he had when he’d found her the previous day. “I heard you mention his name yesterday in the emergency room so I checked on him already this morning. Hugh’s in stable c
ondition but not doing real well. His wife died a couple years ago, you know. So I took the liberty of calling on his neighbor, Ida Dane. It turns out the house he arranged for you to rent belongs to her.”
“You know Mr. McGregor?” Jessica asked.
“Small town,” Kyle replied. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a key, which he held in front of Jessica. “I have the key. I hope you don’t mind.”
Jessica didn’t know if she minded or not. Of course, the key and the name of the owner of the house she would live in solved a huge mystery for her. The other mystery, Kyle, seemed more perplexing. She wanted to say, “Why are you being so nice to me? Especially right now when I look like such a mess.”
Like her mother, Jessica’s hair was light blond. For years she had worn it long—past the middle of her back. Then, on her way out of town two days ago, she had stopped and had it cut to her shoulders at the first hair salon she came to.
Her eyes were a mossy green, which she personally liked but didn’t think were anything all that special. Her teeth were straight, thanks to three years of braces. And her figure was, in her opinion, ordinary. Not too skinny, not too heavy.
Why would Kyle be interested in her? He certainly hadn’t seen her at her best. Could it be Glenbrooke suffered from a severe shortage of women? Or was this guy some kind of mass murderer?
“So,” Jessica began cautiously, “do you know where the house is?”
“Marigold Lane. It’s not far from the high school. About four blocks, I’d guess. Do you want me to take you there?”
“Look, you’re being very nice, Kyle, but really, you don’t have to do this for me.”
Kyle lowered his eyes and looked at the polished hospital room floor as if he might find his next line written on a cue card there. Jessica noticed how wavy his dark hair was. He looked up, his green eyes meeting hers. “I just thought I could help out, you being new to the area and the accident and everything. If you’re not comfortable with that, I understand. I’d be glad to do whatever I can for you. Just let me know, okay?” He placed the house key on the bed and walked toward the door.
“Wait,” Jessica said.
Kyle stopped and turned, waiting for Jessica to speak.
“Everything is coming at me so fast. People just aren’t nice like this where I come from. I could use your help. Probably more than I realize.”
A grin spread across Kyle’s firm jaw. “Good. Let’s pay your hotel bill here and then get on over to Al’s Auto Body Shop.”
“Al’s?” Jessica questioned.
“That’s where they towed your car. We can pick up your boxes and see if by some miracle Al was able to put your Humpty Dumpty back together again.”
Jessica slung her purse over her shoulder and began to head for the door, her legs cooperating stiffly. “You think it’s that bad, huh?”
Kyle nodded. A wheelchair stood in the corner of the room, and Kyle positioned himself behind it, hands on the grips, indicating Jessica should get in it.
“That’s okay, I can walk.”
“I’m afraid this is one of those hospital policies. Nobody leaves under his—or her—own power.”
“That’s ridiculous! I can walk just fine.”
Kyle didn’t budge. His no-nonsense jaw was joined by a no-nonsense look in his eyes. Obviously he was unwilling to leave the hospital without Jessica in that wheelchair and him at the helm. Jessica found it difficult to give in. But she didn’t see any other choice.
Lowering herself into the chair, she plopped her purse on her lap and refused to look at anyone as Kyle wheeled her down the hall.
He leaned over and spoke quietly to her as they made their way to the front door. “You were asking about your car. I think we should wait for Al’s diagnosis, but I’m afraid it didn’t look too good last night when they brought it in.”
“You were there when they took my car in?” Again Jessica had uneasy feelings about this man being so involved in the details of her life. In her experience, everything had a price, especially charity.
“I stopped by when I left the hospital last night. I had to get a ride back to the site of the accident so I could pick up my truck, and I knew Al would give me a lift. Besides, you said something to Betty about needing your purse, so I thought I’d bring it to you.”
“Again, thanks. Do you think we could stop by and see Mr. McGregor?”
“It’s up to you. Like I said, he’s not in very good shape. He certainly wouldn’t recognize you or know you’re in the room. If you want me to, I’d be glad to go with you.”
“I guess I’ll do what you suggested: Settle my account with Betty, then take care of my car. Maybe I can come back this afternoon and see him, after I move in.”
She didn’t make it back that afternoon, though. Al told her that her car was totaled. “Take the insurance money and don’t look back,” he counseled her.
Jessica nodded and left with Kyle, numbed by the news. There was one slight problem. Jessica had no car insurance.
She had planned to buy it with her first teaching paycheck. It just hadn’t seemed necessary to deal with insurance immediately when she bought the car. The woman who had sold it to Jessica was willing to take cash and let Jessica drive it away right then, and that’s what Jessica cared about most at that moment.
She had known she would have to obtain Oregon license plates and figured she would buy insurance at the same time. Now she realized how foolish that assumption had been. Worse, it was probably illegal, now that she thought about it. Perhaps this whole adventure was a foolish idea.
Jessica had been raised to believe that she could accomplish whatever she set out to do. “If you can dream it, you can do it” had been the slogan she had lived by since reading it off one of her roommate’s posters her first year of college. Now she seriously doubted that philosophy. Expectations can become painfully dangerous when destiny is messed with by unseen, unfair forces.
Kyle loaded up the back of his white truck with her smashed boxes and drove her to 226 Marigold Lane. Jessica maintained silence the whole way, wondering if she had made the right decision in coming. Nothing was going the way she had thought it would. Perhaps this wasn’t her destiny, her dream, the way she had thought it would be.
Everything changed when she saw the house. The yellow clapboard cottage with a red brick chimney took her breath away.
“This is my house?” she asked as Kyle parked the truck at the curb, right next to a huge elm tree.
“Yep. This is a great neighborhood, too. Most of the houses on this street are between seventy and one hundred years old. I used to…,” Kyle paused. “I knew someone who lived on the next street over. It’s a good neighborhood,” he added quickly.
Jessica stepped out of the cab of Kyle’s truck and stood before the charming home, scanning the trellis of pink roses growing over the front door, the stone walkway, and white shutters. Now this is what she had expected to find in Glenbrooke. A real, live, storybook house.
When the key clicked in the lock on the front door, Jessica opened it with Kyle right behind her. She felt as if she might be getting her second wind, another chance for this little dream of hers to survive.
The morning sun entered the house with them through the open front door. Hundreds of tiny dust fairies rose from their vacant-house hibernation and danced silently for Jessica on the polished wood floor.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I can’t believe Mr. McGregor found such a great house for me! This must be the kitchen.”
Straight ahead was the small but adequate kitchen, complete with a refrigerator. A door at the back of the kitchen, on the left, led to the back yard, which had a wooden deck with a few pieces of lawn furniture and the dying remains of a garden along the back fence. She noticed that all the neighbors kept their small yards neat and trimmed, and each had a garden.
Inside the house, on the left side of the kitchen, two doors led to a rectangular, open area that looked as if it served as the a
ll-purpose dining room, living room, and office space. A hunter green couch, an oak coffee table, and a small television set on top of a bookcase filled the living room area at the front of the house. The walls were white with thick wood trim above the doors and windows. Slatted white shades were drawn open at the front window, and lace curtains hung on either side. A matching window in the dining area wore the same window treatment. Jessica liked it all. It was white and fresh and open.
The dining room table looked like the common garage sale variety. While serviceable, a tablecloth and vase of flowers in the center would definitely perk it up.
The treasure of the room was an old mahogany secretary in the far corner, which came with a straight-back chair covered with a flowered needlepoint seat. The room looked like something out of a magazine, especially the way the sunshine came slicing through the front window and made the beveled glass on the secretary shimmer. A tablecloth, some fresh flowers, maybe a few of her antique poetry books on the shelves behind the glass secretary cupboard, and this room would match the one Jessica had dreamed of.
“It’s really wonderful,” she said, enjoying the exploration of her new home, yet aware that Kyle was quietly taking each step with her.
“The bathroom and bedroom must be upstairs,” Kyle said. “Why don’t I start hauling the boxes in while you check it out?”
She appreciated the chance to see the upstairs on her own and took the fourteen winding stairs slowly, favoring her bruised leg. The bedroom was to the left, positioned over the front entryway.
An old oak dresser with an oval mirror stood against the wall by the closet door, and on the opposite side was an antique white wrought iron bed with a patchwork comforter and an old barrel top trunk at the foot. A small oak bed stand stood by the bed. A quaint brass lamp with a stained glass shade was atop the bed stand. Two windows looked out on the street and were framed with the same wide trim, slatted shades, and lace curtains as the windows below in the living room.