Remember to Forget (40 page)

The parade of her life started, and slowly her confusion cleared until she knew it was the end.

Chapter Forty-Three

M
aggie jogged behind the Honda and took off running in the opposite direction back toward the inn. She heard his brakes screech behind her and the engine rev, but she didn’t take time to look. She ran for all she was worth, muscles pumping, her now-tattered skirt flailing at her legs and threatening to trip her with every step.

The Honda came at her. Kevin drove along beside her, jeering, aiming the car at her, then veering off, only to come back at her again, effectively blocking her passage to the inn. She could see the lights flickering across the street, could hear laughter inside, and intermittent strains of Mozart. But Kevin had her trapped. Gasping for air, she crossed the parking lot behind the print shop.

Go to the river.

Again she heard it. Almost audible.
And now she had no choice. She raced through the alley, then ran between the print shop and the building next door. From there she ran down an empty street.

Kevin’s car had disappeared. She ran another block, winded and trembling. Soon she could make out the park ahead in the distance, dark and empty. She ran across the sandy playground a few minutes later. In the faint glow from a quarter moon, she watched the silvery flash of water making its languid course up the riverbed. But the gentle music of waves lapping at the roots of trees seemed somehow sinister tonight, like the score from a horror movie.

She slowed to a walk but made a beeline for the gnarled silhouette of an ancient cottonwood. Its massive trunk would curtain her from sight. She could wait it out there until she was sure it was safe to leave the park.

Mere inches from safety, she heard an engine rev. Then the high beams of a pair of headlights threw their spotlight upon her. She turned to stone, caught in midstride, like a marble statue.

The slam of a car door wrenched her from her paralysis. She scrambled behind the tree and skidded purposefully down the steep riverbank, praying the crackle of brittle grass and leaves wouldn’t give her away.

And then he was above her, standing there on the bank, arms crossed. Patient, watching, pinning his sights on her like a hunter scoping out his prey.

Maggie slipped into the water. The silt was slick beneath her sandals. She tucked her head and dipped her face in the water, then dove beneath the river’s depths. She imagined herself a mermaid, using her legs and feet as a powerful tail, taking care not to splash and give away her position. She came up for a breath and the earthy musk of mud and fish enveloped her. She dove back under, swimming deeper, feeling weightless and insignificant.

Her lungs were on fire, and she thrashed against the watery weight of her skirt. She finally broke the surface and gulped in the night air.

She stilled, forcing herself to take slow, even breaths.

A splash behind her made her look over her shoulder. But before her eyes could focus on the dark form in the water behind her, the cloying heaviness of Kevin’s cologne tainted the loamy fragrance of the Smoky Hill.

He wedged her neck in the muscled crook of his arm and tightened the vice. She screamed and struggled against him, gasping for a breath that wouldn’t come. Her chest burned with a hunger for air, but she got only a thimbleful, merely whetting her need for more.

She heard voices on the bank, strident, but too distant to mean anything for her.
Go to the river,
the quiet voice had said.
Go to the river
.

Had that voice led her to her death? Had her mother’s demented voices finally become her own?

The parade of her life started, and slowly her confusion cleared until she knew it was the end. She saw her mother’s face, laughing and happy, and Jenn as a little girl, curling up beside Maggie on the sofa. There were the Tarkans and . . . Opal Sanchez, the woman who’d given her a ride after the carjacking. Rick and Sandy, and the Blakelys. They were all there. So many caring people along the way who had helped her even when she was anything but kind in return. Kaye DeVore and Bart and Wren appeared.

And Trevor. She saw him as clear as life, sitting in the pickup that day he’d told her . . . what was it?

“If there’s anything I can do, you only have to call me. I want you to believe that.”

Trevor
. She sucked in air and forced it from her lungs, shouting with the dregs of her strength, “Trevor! Trevor! Oh, God! Please! Help me, Lord!
Father!
”

At those words, a dam broke loose inside her. Something changed, and in an instant, she knew she would never be the same.

She heard the voices again—the
real
voices—only this time they sounded closer. She curled her legs up under her in the water and wedged
her feet against Kevin’s brick belly. Pushing herself up out of the water, she drew another breath. This time her lungs were satisfied.

She yelled again, her own shrill voice curdling her senses. “Trevor!”

She saw Kevin’s arm above her, his white shirt sodden, gleaming against the night sky. And in an instant the sky turned to ink and everything receded into nothingness.

W
ater lapped at her chest. Maggie felt her body bob and sway with the river’s eddies. She tried to roll over. She had to make her way to shore. But her efforts were met with resistance, and her frailty wouldn’t allow her to try again.

Bits of memories from the last hours trickled back to her consciousness, and the terror of the night became reality. Kevin had come back for her. He’d followed her to Clayburn. Hunted her down and tried to kill her.

Her senses came alert, and she understood why she couldn’t move. He was still there. Still had her in his grip. Maybe he thought she was dead. She slowed her breathing, made herself go limp again.

The lapping of the water lulled her. She felt at peace. Maybe she
was
dead. But no. She was being dragged through the water. But not in the vice grip he’d held her in before. Her body was numb, her muscles useless, but she felt as if she were being . . . cradled. A hand caressed her cheek.

“Meg. Meg? Can you hear me?”

Meg
? Kevin wouldn’t call her that. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt like cinder blocks.

“Meg? Maggie?”

“No, it’s Meg,” she wanted to say. Maggie didn’t exist anymore. Not the old Maggie. She was a new person. She no longer belonged to the past. She tried to speak, to tell him everything. But her tongue wallowed
in her mouth, thick as cotton. She heard the voice again, low and deep in her ear. And she didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was. But why had he called her by her real name? Did he know? Strong arms tightened about her, and she let herself relax against him. Trevor wouldn’t let Kevin hurt her. The water lapped at them, soothing her soul. Trevor called her name again. She felt his hands smoothing the wet hair off her forehead.

“Meg? Wake up.” He patted her cheeks gently.

She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted only to stay here in his arms. To be safe with him.

“Meg. Maggie? Wake up!” Urgency imbued his voice. This time she heard the slap of his palm against her cheeks, and her body registered pain.

She forced a breath into her lungs and opened her eyes. Blinked. Then, with great effort, kept her eyes open. Trevor’s face was inches from hers, half in shadow, a dim light reflected in the blue of his eyes.

“Trev—?” She choked on his name and fell into a coughing fit. He tipped her upright and supported her on his knee while she coughed up river water and bile. He patted her back and whispered her name until she quieted.

“Trevor,” she whispered, when she could finally speak. “Kevin! He’s here. He . . . he came after me. He tried to kill me.”

“Shhh, you’re safe. It’s over, Meg. You’re safe here.”

She flailed her arms in the water, struggling to stand in the murky river. To see with her own eyes that he was gone.

“Are you okay?” Trevor drew her closer, carrying her ever nearer to shore.

She quit struggling and relaxed against him once again. Far in the distance, sirens split the night. After a while, she dared to ask. “Where is he?”

“He ran when he saw me come for you. The police have his car. They’re looking for him now.” He glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the sirens. “Are you hurt? The ambulance is coming.”

“No!” She tightened her arms around his waist. If they tried to check her into the hospital, the truth would all come out and she would lose him. “I’m fine. Really I am.”

She let loose of him and struggled to her feet in the chest-deep water, desperate to prove she didn’t need an ambulance.

Dizziness overcame her and she faltered.

But he caught her and drew her back to himself. “Let them check you out, okay? Just to be safe. Are you cold?”

“No. The water’s warm. I-I’m fine. Really. Just a little weak.”

“Wrap your arms around my neck.”

She did, and he moved cautiously through the water, carrying her along on the rise and swell of the river’s currents.

“Trevor? How did you know? That I’d be here?”

“Kaye said she saw you leave with someone. She heard you call him Kevin. I knew that wasn’t good.”

“But how did you know . . . to find me here?”

Even in the darkness, she saw his smile. “I just knew. I knew it was your special place.
Our
special place. I know you, Meg.”

Her hopes wavered. “Oh, Trevor. No you don’t. I’m not who you think I am. I’ve been so dishonest. Such a fake. You could never forgive me.”

He stopped in the water. Leaned to cradle her head in his hands and place a tender kiss on her forehead. “Wren told me everything . . . Maggie.”

She caught her breath and looked up, searching his face. All she saw there was love. And acceptance.

“I do know you. You’re not the same person you were the day you came to Clayburn. I’ve watched you change and grow. You’ve blossomed here. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who doesn’t see that.”

“But how can you ever trust me after all the lies? I’ve been so dishonest—even with myself. And selfish. I used so many people to get away from Kevin, and New York, and everything it represented to me.”

He tipped her chin. Forced her to meet his gaze. “I don’t see any of that when I look at you. All I see is a sweet, kind, funny, loving woman. I see a beautiful woman—inside and out—who has poured her heart and the work of her hands into helping Bart and Wren, who I know would do anything to help a friend.”

The bubble of hope grew and rose up inside her, buoying her. Was it possible? Could the things Trevor said about her have become truth, even without her realizing it? Long ago, she’d latched on to Kevin because he let her feel dependent and needed. It was the opposite of the independence she thought had separated her from her mother and then from Jennifer.

But now she saw that her ideas of dependence had been warped. It was
good
to have people to depend on. To allow people to depend on you.

She raised her eyes to the starry canopy above them. The clouds had slipped away, and a heavy moon illumined them. Trevor’s arms were strong beneath her. She remembered calling out to God in the water. He’d heard her! He’d sent Trevor to rescue her. But even before that, God had been with her in every detail of her journey—even using something as crazy as a carjacking to catapult her to freedom.

Her mind whirled with the truth. God’s voice had led her to Clayburn. Not her mother’s voice. Not voices of death, but the Voice of Life itself. It had been God who whispered, leading her west. She knew His voice. Knew
Him
now. And oh, most precious of all, He knew her. It had been Him, whispering her to the river.

His voice had saved her from drowning, brought her through the waters and safely into Trevor’s arms.

“I-I’ve kept so many secrets.” Her voice trembled.

Trevor traced her gaze to the night sky overhead. “You can’t ever really keep any secrets, Meg. The only One who matters always knows.”