Ransomed Dreams (28 page)

Dad shook his head. “Never a dull day with my boys, is there?”

Dad and Sue hovered over James, who scooted up in bed and told the story of his stitches and how brave he’d been.

“Hey, little man.” Steven smoothed James’s hair away from his stitches again. “I’m gonna go find out about Gracie before I have to head back to work.” He hated to leave, but his parents could watch James sleep as well as he could. Steven had a shooter to catch. “Save a story for me tonight, okay?”

“I love you. Daddy.”

Steven kissed his son’s forehead. “I love you too, James. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Tears threatened. He needed to go.

Time to turn off the emotion and get back to work. There was a stupid, albeit determined, shooter at large. One who’d just made things personal.

Gracie blinked against the harsh lights.

“Where am I?” Her voice sounded like sandpaper and felt about the same.

Beth’s tiny frame came into focus, standing at her bedside. “In the hospital, big sis. When you do it, you sure do it living large.”

“Honey.” Mom’s whitened face leaned over an IV pole.

IV pole? Hospital? “What happened to me?”

Mom and Dad looked at each other and then down at her. “There was a shooting at Hope Ridge Academy yesterday.”

Gracie bit the inside of her lip and tried to focus on her dad’s words and mesh them with the aches and pains starting to wake up with her brain. “I was shot.”

“Yes, ma’am. And that FBI boyfriend must be wearing on you because the nurses said you fought the paramedics to even get you here.” Beth giggled.

Dad cleared his throat.

“Are my kids okay? Please tell me. I saw Akemi with blood on her face and James next to her. Please, Daddy, what happened to them?”

He nudged her shoulder back into the bed. “Calm down, princess. Your headmistress was here last night and assured us everyone was okay.”

“James?”

“Steven said his son had seven stitches but was resting at home.” Mom smiled and patted her arm.

“You talked to Steven?”

Beth sighed. “He’s even better than you described. Totally into you too. All the nurses said he asked about you and kept calling to check until he talked to Mom last night.”

“Beth.”
Dad’s stem voice held a hint of amusement.

Gracie tried to process all the jumbled thoughts. Steven was here. She’d been shot. James was okay.

A tall, skinny doctor in a white coat tapped the door and walked in. “Well, good morning, Superwoman.” He extended a hand and shook with Mom, Dad, and Beth. “I have a note in your file that says to put all your nurses out of their misery and let you know all your students are fine.”

Beth covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Mom and Dad smiled.

The doctor continued. “Even Akemi. She had stitches, a broken arm, but she’s home now. Her parents said to give you their thanks.”

“Why are they thanking me? Their daughter got hurt in my classroom.” Gracie’s side started to sear when she tried to sit up.

The brown-headed doctor looked around the room. “I need to do a quick exam, gang. Would you all mind stepping into the hall for a few minutes?”

When the door closed, the man loosened bandages in places Gracie didn’t know had so many screaming nerve endings. She focused on his face, guessing him to be in his early thirties. Around her age. “Could you tell me what happened exactly? And include why I hurt so much.”

“I’ll order some more pain meds.” He jotted a note on her patient file and grinned. “Doctor McGregor, not MacGyver, at your service, by the way.” He laughed at his own joke.

Gracie groaned.

“Sorry Anyway back to your question.” He retaped bandages on her side and leg. “You’re a hero because when you were found, after being shot in your side, you were holding on to Akemi and trying to comfort her. Apparently you shielded her and made sure your other students were okay. Brave woman, I’d say.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

Dr. McGregor narrowed his eyes and flipped through her file. “Neuro assessments and scans checked out fine. Slight concussion,
but no bleeding on the brain. Can you tell me what you do remember?”

“I remember the glass shattering and blood on Akemi’s face. Maria and Victoria raced from the room. Then a few mumbled conversations last night. But I couldn’t tell you who they were with or what was discussed.” Gracie blinked away the images of blood and terror-filled faces. She’d see those in her dreams for a long while.

He exhaled. “That’s expected. You were still pretty groggy for a long time after the surgery. Your chart says you requested pain meds a few times last night.”

“Surgery? Did I lose my spleen?”

Dr. McGregor chuckled. “Nope. Not only brave, you’re lucky Clean shot. Point of entry and point of exit missed all your vital organs. It knicked a few things we needed to sew up and fractured a few ribs.” He motioned to her leg. “You also have a few slices on your right leg, but other than that, you’re all in one piece.”

As if on cue, every bone in her rib cage throbbed. She winced. A testimony to the power of suggestion. “So I can go home when?”

“In a few days.” He tucked the file under his arm. “Let’s get you up and walking around. Make sure your digestive system is in good order. Then we’ll talk about after-care.”

“How long will I be away from work?” She figured Mom knew all the specifics on her injuries, but better to find out what only the doctor could say for sure.

“Let’s plan on six weeks. You have one of the cleanest cases I’ve ever handled, but risk of infection is still high. A gunshot wound is a severe trauma to the body. Rest is what you can do best to help your body heal.”

She’d talk to Mrs. Hall to make sure her class would be well covered through the holidays. Better plan for the worst and pray for the best. “Thank you.”

“Any more questions?”

“Not right now, but I’m sure there’ll be more.”

Dr. McGregor smiled. “I’m sure there will. I’ll be back to see you in the morning. Until then, try to get some sleep and don’t yell at the nurses too much when they make you stand up.”

Gracie stared at the doctor’s disappearing back. Stand? She wanted to sleep away six weeks of bed rest and boredom. Her C-section with Joshua had taught her a few tricks. Keep a pillow handy if you have to laugh. Walking helped. They only get you out of bed to prevent blood clots, not for pure torture. This too will pass.

But this was nothing like a C-section. Her heart, ribs, legs, head, and every other inch of skin throbbed a bothersome cadence. She needed more pain meds. Not only that, when she went home, she’d go empty handed. No baby to hold to make the pain worth it.

A slight tap at the door distracted her.

Steven leaned against the little sink outside her bathroom, muscles visible through his suit shirt, his basketball tie slightly askew “Need any help there?” Gorgeous blue eyes searched her face.

“Steven.” She waved him in. “It’s so good to see you. James is okay?”

He walked over to her bedside with a smile, avoiding the bandages and IV lines to give her a gentle half hug. “He insisted I give you this.” Steven held up a huge yellow card with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and smiley faces.

“I miss him and my other kids already.” A stray tear slid down her cheek. “I’ll have to stay home and rest for a few weeks.”

“I know. You’ll make it. I’ll help.” Steven rubbed the back of her hand, the one without the bruises, tape, and IV lines.

“I’m going home to Georgia when I’m ready to travel.”

Steven’s forehead creased, and his eyes asked the question. One she didn’t have an answer for yet.

“Suppose you don’t think I can change bandages or wait on
you hand and foot?” His smile faded when she didn’t respond.

Gracie shifted in her hospital bed. The smell of blood and antiseptic made her stomach roil. “I’m sure you can. And I appreciate that you want to. But I need time, Steven. Time without the … the … turmoil that follows you. Late-night calls for you to work. Canceled dates. Angela. I just can’t deal with it right now.”

He studied the white floor tiles. “I understand. Don’t like it, though.”

Everything in her wanted to be held. Wanted Steven to promise the cares and pain away. She wished for more and yet … it wasn’t time. Maybe it never would be.

Another knock sounded.

Gracie’s eyes felt heavy. She didn’t know how much more emotional drain she could tolerate. Where were Mom and Dad? Probably giving her and Steven room to kiss and make sure all was well, given their excited looks whenever Beth talked about her FBI boyfriend.

Boyfriend? Not quite.

James hurried to her bedside and snuggled into his dad’s arms. “You’re okay! I was praying for you. I bugged Angela so much she said she’d bring me. I’m sorry you’re hurting. Did you see my card?”

Steven smiled, hugged James, and rested his head, eyes closed, on his son’s brownish mop.

Gracie held out her hand and squeezed the little boy’s soft fingers. “Thank you for praying, James. I know God hears and He’ll help us both get better.” She looked at the bandages on his forehead and the bruises on his face. He must have fallen at some point. Hard.

“I’m sorry you were hurt, Mrs. Lang.” Angela’s voice startled her. She looked pale without makeup and uncomfortable, rubbing both hands over her smooth leather duster. “Thank you for making sure James was okay. He’s talked about it nonstop.”

Gracie nodded.

Steven worked his jaw back and forth.

Not again. She couldn’t handle the verbal barbs. The emotional tension. Georgia looked more and more appealing every second.

“I just brought James because he was so concerned about you.” Angela looked at Steven. “Andrew said you’d be here. I hope it was okay that I asked your dad if I could spend some time with James and bring him over to see you.”

Steven’s exhalation was long and loud. Like the cares of the world had driven the fight from him. Gracie hoped it wasn’t on account of her requesting space and time.

Angela turned her attention to Gracie and stared at her and James holding hands. “I’m sorry about the other night too. I was rude.”

Gracie’s eyes grew wide as she sat up straighter, which sent a searing pain down her neck. “Thank you, Angela.”

The two Kessler men watched as if it were a live soap opera playing out in front of them. She and Angela would never be friends. But maybe, in time, they could move a little past civil to friendly.

If Gracie agreed to see Steven again.

A big if.

“I really need to get some sleep.” Gracie squeezed James’s hand. “Thanks again for the card, sweetie. Keep praying for me, okay?”

He nodded with sad eyes. “Are you going to be back to school next week?”

Gracie fought tears. “No. Not until after Thanksgiving.” James looked like he was about to cry “But maybe you and your dad can call me at my parents’ house in Georgia. Would you do that?”

Steven’s half smile said he read more into that request than she’d meant. Then again, maybe she’d meant more than she thought.

“Yes,” James said. “And maybe we can come visit too. If Dad can take some time off work.”

Angela bristled but said nothing.
Thank You, Lord
.

“Well see.” Steven straightened to his tall and disarming height. “Gracie needs to rest.” He touched his lips to her forehead and then moved to the door with James.

Beth was right. Steven was gorgeous.
“Totally into you,”
her sister had said. Maybe. The care and compassion in his eyes made Gracie’s sore insides soften a little.

She hoped striking blue eyes and the heat of a kiss left on her temple didn’t keep her awake long.

Or make her run where she wasn’t ready to go.

F
riday the thirteenth. How fitting.

Tom stormed through his house, gathering the last of his things and throwing clothes into his carry-on. He’d buy new toiletries on the way out of town. Who cared if his fast flight tipped the FBI that he was the inside man? They’d figure it out soon enough, what with super agent Kessler on the job.

A child. Joe had tried to shoot a child.

One more reason not to look in the mirror.

He stopped in front of his favorite lighthouse picture. Second guesses about his flight overseas made his breathing quicken. He’d never see his one-of-a-kind art pieces again. And he couldn’t afford to replace them after needing surgery and phony paperwork to start another life.

Even with the changes, he’d always be a hunted man. Someone like Joe, who could stay hidden right under the FBI’s noses, would track him to the ends of the earth and back.

Joe had made it clear his job wasn’t finished unless body bags left Hope Ridge. They hadn’t on Wednesday.

And if Tom had anything to do with it, they never would. He’d never meant it to go this far. Not to the point of killing a child.

His ringing doorbell shot his blood pressure higher than his vaulted ceiling. He looked at the suitcase at his feet. Better hide that.

“Who is it?” He leaned into the door, hoping the visitor would disappear. Maybe he could slip out the patio door and slide past whoever kept banging on his front door. But he knew better. He opened the door.

Joe strutted in like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Going someplace, mate?” Piercing green eyes bored a hole through Tom’s skull.

“Yes. Early retirement. I did what you paid me to do, and I’m leaving before the FBI puts the remaining pieces together.”

“Not so fast. Job’s not complete.”

Tom’s fear loosened his tongue. “That’s not my fault. You missed the shot. It’s your problem now.”

Joe’s crushing fingers around his throat cut off his airflow. Maybe death would come soon and his mother would never discover the gory details of his road to perdition. Pain became his only thought, black oblivion his only focus.

“You have no idea who I am.” Joe released his grip.

Tom slumped to the floor, gasping. He’d learned enough in the last few seconds. “What do you want from me? Security will be too tight for me to help again.”

“I need to make sure your lips are sealed. Or you’ll be belly-up in the Potomac.”