Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (23 page)

“My Basic Newborn Care class—wanna teach it tonight?”

“Hmmm.”

“I’d never ask except you know Tuesday’s are my late night, and I hate to cancel the class. But I've got some big plans that came up kind of quickly. Plus, I know, as usual, you’ll do great. Probably even better than me.”

Jenna laughed, heard Leigh’s amused huff.

“Matter of fact, now that I’ve got you, I’ve been thinking on running something by you. We're actually looking into adding to our staff over in Perinatal. I know you’re not ICEA certified, but for what I’m after, I could use you without it." Jenna spun in her chair, watched as dark gray clouds rolled outside her small window. “No pressure, no expectations, you just ran through my mind recently when I was considering options, talking to Vick about a new hire. You’re wonderful with the patients over here, and I know you’re usually first to volunteer if we need an extra hand. So, there it is if you’re interested.”

“Uh-huh,” Leigh said with dry amusement, “roping me in, flattering me. I know what you’re doing.”

Jenna smiled, shrugged innocently even though Leigh couldn’t see her.

“Let me check in at home, but I don’t see why I can’t teach tonight. And I’ll definitely think on what you said. Great opportunity. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Thank
you
, Leigh. You are amazing. I owe you big time.”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to suck up. I said I’d do it. Let me talk to Eddie and I’ll buzz you right back.”

“I’ll be in my office. And seriously, thank you.”

“No problem, honey. Good luck with those big plans.”

Standing to shrug out of her coat—she knew Leigh would come through—Jenna raised her brows, sighed. “I need all I can get."

****

Ben pulled into his gravel drive, ready to wash off the day. It was gray, rainy, and dreary. Perfectly suited to his mood.

Though he’d had time to recover from Jenna’s surprise attack days ago, he was still sour on the whole issue. At first, he’d been furious. The night it happened, he’d taken advantage of his spacious property and walked and walked and walked some more, hoping the cool air would settle his nerves, cool the boiling blood.

It hadn’t.

That had taken time and a lot of brooding.

Now, he decided, slamming his truck door, it wasn’t so much sourness in his gut, but more a bitter taste coating his mouth. The brooding had left him considering a million reasons why she did what she did, why she said what she said. And the only plausible explanation he could come up with was that pure fear had made her crazy. That had to be what caused the outburst. It was much more plausible to believe that than to accept she actually was insane or that he’d fallen for a crazy woman.

He didn’t have to like it, though.

And it certainly didn’t take away the raw wounds she’d left behind. The fact that she hadn’t contacted him, and obviously felt no remorse, was a sprinkle of salt poured right on the open sores.

What really stuck in his craw above all was that he actually continued to worry about her. He constantly wondered if there’d been any more threats, any communication, either directly or indirectly, any criminal acts. Was she okay? Were the kids? He’d even taken to watching the stupid news, which he hated, on the off-chance he might see what he prayed wasn’t there—a familiar name, face, or family.

Welcoming the misty rain, he stood in the front of his property, taking in the familiar, calming scent of wet earth. It reminded him of summer days with his father and Joseph. Whether working or playing, they always stopped and watched it pour, the southern summer drops hitting the scorching pavement, causing waves of steam, and an unmistakable gritty scent to rise from the sizzling asphalt.

But autumn and early winter rains would always peak as a favorite for Ben. Humidity rarely followed rain in the colder months, and instead of heat and stickiness, storms left fresh grass, soft, workable earth, and a clean smell to the air.

He breathed it in deeply, stood long enough for his hair to be saturated by the light shower.

Suddenly realizing he was famished, he decided to go in, see what he could round up for dinner . . . or charm Heidi into making.

Boots muddy, not wanting to hear Heidi’s reprimands at dirtying up the entryway, he walked around to the side entrance of the cabin and was mildly annoyed when he spotted his parent’s car. With the rain and a day's worth of paperwork, he’d only visited a job site briefly, leaving little time to work off the irritation he seemed to wake with these days.

Truth was, as much as he appreciated their concern, he just wasn’t in the mood to have the hundredth generic conversation with them in just over a week. And that’s just what they’d all been doing, his mother especially. Calling, chatting, making small talk, anything to avoid conversations centered on a certain woman.

But he didn’t need them tiptoeing around it. She’d leveled him, hurt him, took him down a peg or two. But true to form, he’d work through it.

Somehow.

He hoped.

But how exactly did a man work through finding the woman of his dreams only to be slapped out of the dream by learning she thought he was capable of murdering a blasted pet bird?

Annoyed, and back in full brooding mode, Ben slipped off his muddy boots, dropped them by the door, and stepped in to the aroma of fragrant pasta sauce.

Perfect, his mom and Heidi were recreating his one and only special dish from the suckiest night of his life. No need for small talk when they just smacked him in the face with reminders.

What would they do next, invite a woman and some kids over?

As he turned on the faucet in the little laundry room sink, rinsed his hands of dirt, he could’ve sworn he heard the plop, plop, of his ping-pong ball bouncing back and forth on the table in the temporary game room upstairs. (Temporary as once the baby got here, Ben had agreed to relinquish the room to him or her. For now, he reveled in its maleness.) But that couldn't be.

No, Ben would bet his life that his mother and sister-in-law were huddled over a boiling pot, laughing and gossiping about that gold-digger Felicia from his mother’s bowling league.

He made his way to the kitchen. And stopped before walking over the threshold.

Well, there goes my life.

Because there stood Jenna, looking absolutely angelic, using his spoon, stirring his pot, standing over his stove. Hair bound high on her head, bright yellow sweater peeking out from a white apron, cheeks flushed from heat, she was every bit the picture of perfection. And she looked right at home.

She didn’t at all resemble the woman who’d shattered his heart.

“Hi, Ben.”

Wary, he managed a jagged smile, nodded. “Hello, Jenna.”

****

Leigh Gonzalez flipped the switch on the overhead projector, listening to the wheezing as the machine settled down and finally became lifeless. She chuckled to herself, wondering if poor Jenna would ever get the new equipment she’d requested.

It was the twenty-first century and the best this clinic had was a pull-down white screen and a decades-old noisy projector. Oh well, got the job done, didn’t it?

Leigh was satisfied with her own performance, too. She thought she’d done Jenna proud in tonight’s class. There were lots of questions, discussion, and most satisfying, a good turnout. She hadn’t expected so many to show, but a few extra couples popped in, and friends brought friends, making for a full room.

With Jenna’s delegation and Molly’s ruthless organization, there’d been more than enough room in the clutter-free space to fit chairs, baby dolls for CPR, bathing and dressing practice, and growing mommas-to-be.

The late class had cut in to cherished time with her Eddie, but after tonight, Leigh realized she really enjoyed teaching and working in this capacity. She felt too old some days to break the news to an eighteen-year-old kid that they had an incurable STD.

Maybe she’d take Jenna up on the offer, find out more about the new position in Perinatal. She’d run it past Eddie first, of course, but he’d go with whatever she wanted.

He rolled with the flow. If it made Leigh happy, it made Eddie happy. Smiling, thinking of his chubby, tanned face, she couldn’t wait to get home, relax, and catch up on one of their shows.

She just had to lock up, then she’d be free.

Outside, she shivered lightly as the wind nipped at her thin khaki pants. The storm had upped its ante in the last hour and a half, the wind kicking up, the rain getting stronger. A warm bed would be nice tonight. A warm bed with her man tucked in would be even nicer.

She fumbled with the keys in the dark, hating the shadows of winter. She liked light. The warm, bright, openness of unfiltered daylight. That’s why summer was her favorite season. She never minded the heat . . . that meant the sun was out and light was illuminating the world.

With the loud drops pounding, and the dark hovering, it took her a moment to notice the bulky shadow. Aware now, pulse quickening, she stepped back further in the shadows behind her, hoping to put distance between her and the approaching figure.

Unable to decipher between shadow and human as they melded together in the deep darkness, Leigh shakily began to speak, then stopped as a strip of pale, glowing moonlight bathed the face.

Relief flooded through her system. Her breath came out in a whoosh. “You scared me,” she said, her shaky voice not completely under control, the fear making it almost unrecognizable. “Why are you here so late—”

Leigh did not hear the completion of her thoughts for the blood thundering in her ears.

As the barrel of a gun rose to meet her in the night, the scream she’d held bubbled to the surface, burst through her throat and out her mouth.

But she didn’t hear that either.

The blistering backfire of the gun too loud and the pain in her chest too severe, Leigh couldn’t hear anything but her own mind screaming.

Her life’s accomplishment’s flashed before her eyes in vivid colors and glossy prints—her precious Eddie, her boys, Anthony and John, her life of nursing, helping, loving patients—and then, she crumpled to the solid pavement, hitting it with a thud.

There, life slowly draining from her, she faded into the darkness she so loathed.

NINETEEN

Over dinner, Ben and Jenna stole awkward glances at each other past chattering children and amused adults.

Now, Jenna knew, was the time to make her move. Giving the signal to Annette, she mentally flipped through what she’d prepared, prayed he would give her time to deliver it.

Annette winked, inclined her head toward Heidi.

“Okay, who’s ready for more ping-pong? I challenge Jacy and Dawson to a game. Ms. Annette and me against brother and sister. What do you say?” Heidi's animated voice made it sound like that would be the most fun thing they’d do in the next hundred years.

Dawson agreed, yelling, “Yeahhh,” while Jacy looked unsure.

She wrinkled her small nose. “Me and Dawson don’t make a good team.”

Annette smiled and patted the little girl’s hand. “Sure you do. Family always sticks together and beats out the competition.” She gave a wiggle of her brows. “So it should be a good match-up. What do you think, Jacy? Can you can beat us old folks?”

“You’re not old,” Jacy giggled.

“Don’t I love this girl?” Annette beamed to the table. “Come on, Heidi, let’s see what damage we can do. They’re younger, faster, and have a dose more energy than us . . . but we’ve got 'em on experience.” She rubbed her hands together before steadying Heidi, who, with practiced skill, lifted her unbalanced weight off the low-sitting chair.

Dawson raced to the game room while Jacy lingered behind, grabbing Heidi’s hand as they climbed the narrow staircase.

As they passed photos staggering the wall, Jacy stopped at one, peered close. “Who’s this? He looks like Mr. Ben.”

Jenna’s stomach clenched as the room fell silent, as Annette paused, gave a little sniff.

Heidi broke the stillness, smiled down at Jacy. “That’s my husband, Jacy. His name is Joseph. And he looks like Ben because they’re brothers."

Satisfied with the answer, Jacy gave a simple, “Oh.’

Jenna watched as they started up the steps again, caught the way Heidi’s eyes returned to the photo, emotion and longing brewing there. And her heart broke for the sweet, kind woman who’d become dear to Jenna.

Love, though it could move mountains, though it could fly you high and fast and sweet, it could hurt, so deeply, wound so severely and plummet the heart to a dark, desperate place.

And Jenna should know. She sat there now in its pit, wondering if she’d ever be able to reach that mountain again. The way he’d looked at her, the way he could barely find a smile when he saw her, didn’t promise much.

But she had to try.

Bruce looked from Ben to Jenna, cleared his throat. “Guess they’ll need a referee, won’t they? We know how rough those women play." He grinned at his son, slapped him on the back, and rose to follow the rest of the group, leaving Ben and Jenna alone, staring at each other.