'Til Grits Do Us Part (50 page)

“Lyrics for what?”

“That bluegrass song she liked.” He dug around in the bedside table and held out a paper for me. “It's an old one. ‘Angel Band,' it's called. It's about heaven.”

Adam rubbed his nose, which had reddened with tears. “It's like…she knew her time was coming, Shiloh. I don't know how, but she did.And she wanted you to know she'd be okay.”

I buried my face against Adam's chest then doubled over in a groan.

“What's wrong? What happened?” He jerked his hand off my arm, checking the IV tube.

I wheezed, trying to get my breath. I squeezed my eyes closed and waited for the swelling pains to subside. This felt far worse than anything I'd experienced in the cow pasture. I leaned back against the pillows, scrunching up my knees.

“Breathe.” He massaged my shoulder. “That's it.”

I slowly relaxed my legs. “So what happened to… ?” I hesitated to say “Odysseus” again.

“Oh, Shiloh.” Adam let out a long sigh, resting his head against my hand. “There's so much to tell.”

“He's not still out there, is he?” I scrambled to sit up.

“No, no.” Adam gently pushed me back. “You've been in surgery and under some heavy drugs for about a day and a half, so we've had a chance to piece things together a bit. The police got Ray right away. He hit a tree. He was driving like a maniac, apparently, and bleeding from a pretty deep cut on his leg.”

I closed my eyes and let the news sink in. “And you—what happened? I thought you were…well, dead.” I winced as the images sifted back.

“We're still not entirely sure what happened. Seems like he'd punctured my tire to get me to pull over and then hit me with a crowbar or something. It put me out, and apparently he chloroformed me, too—with some pretty strong stuff. I was out from sometime Friday night until Saturday morning.”

“But the note on your front door! The text you sent!”

“The note
he
left. The text
he
sent. He took my cell phone.”

I clung to the rails on the sides of the bed, feeling dizzy. “What about Amanda? Did she really rob the bank with Jim Bob Townshend and get away with it?”

“Now that I can't help you with—although Shane thinks it's really true.”

“Shane Pendergrass?” I drew back. “You mean he had nothing to do with this?”

“Nope. Apparently he really did eat some bad barbecue. He'd checked in at the minor emergency clinic when Ray came to your house, and he didn't go back on duty until the next morning. It's all documented.”

“Whoa.” I exhaled. “So he thinks Amanda really did rob the bank.”

“When he heard Ray's cockeyed story, yeah. The bank cameras from twelve years ago show a single intruder, small enough to be a woman, and somebody about Jim Bob's build covering her. It seems like she planned her own disappearance first to throw off suspicion. The police are looking for them both. Jim Bob'll probably be easier to catch though, since he slips back in town sometimes and supposedly lives close by.”

“So he and Amanda broke up after the robbery?”

“Seems like it—if they were together at all. They might have just been old pals. She was engaged to Ray at the time, so the whole thing's a little foggy. She and Jim Bob probably divided the money and went their separate ways, although nobody knows the details. She's been gone for years.”

I rested a hand on my forehead. “Then that Dean guy at Rask was innocent after all.”

“Oh no. He recently bought a half-million-dollar home on a part-time income, under a false name, and police are investigating. They think Jim Bob sent him money.”

“Stolen money.” I blew out my breath. “Seems like Jim Bob should've sent his dad some, from the looks of that cabin.” I twitched a leg where pinkish blisters had formed. “I think I got poison ivy from his woods, too.”

“Well, maybe his dad didn't want a new cabin. Some people are happy with what they've got, you know? Money can't solve everything.”

I squeezed Adam's hand, thinking of our budget wedding and my crazy, gorgeous table-runner dress. Still attempting to process all the details about the case. “So I'll have to go to trial again—after I deal with the skinhead in October.”

“What's once more? Tell them to take a number.”

“Very funny.” I watched clear liquid drip into the IV tube, which reminded me of Jerry's leaky sink. “So Jerry didn't do it.” A sob rose in my throat. “But he lied, Adam! He said he didn't know Amanda Cummings. She worked at his restaurant.”

“She worked there three weeks. Jerry went to Missouri with his mom when she got sick. His old business partner, Dimitri, hired Amanda. Jerry never met her.”

“But…what about all the love notes at his desk? Those poems in red ink?”

Adam lowered his voice and smirked. “Becky found this little tidbit: he's got a girlfriend.”

“What?” I yelped.

“Yep. Kate Townshend has a niece about his age who's visiting for the summer from Japan. He sends her flowers all the time, and who knows? Maybe they'll get married.” Adam lifted a finger to his lips. “But it's a secret. And the red ink? Jerry's color blind. He doesn't know what color pen he grabs.”

“The rose at the restaurant!”

“Stella. She thought the chrysanthemums were too funereal. She came by the restaurant before we arrived, remember? Trinity said so.”

My mouth opened. “
Paradise Lost
. I saw it, Adam.”

“Well.” He raised his palms. “Sometimes things are just a coincidence. Like you sharing the same birthday with Amanda.”

I started to laugh and coughed, pain shooting through my stomach. “Can't they put more painkiller in there?” I moaned, doubling over.

The pain mounted so intensely I started to heave, and Adam quickly handed me the bedpan and called the nurse. I tried not to look at him as she came in, checking my tubes and monitors and talking cheerfully. She whisked the bedpan away and put a fresh drip in the IV.

I just threw up in front of my fiancé
. Instead of being smart, pulled together, and confident, I was sponging my face and mouth with tissues and wearing a ridiculous hospital gown big enough to fit Liv the Llama.

Adam didn't laugh. He smoothed my bangs to the side, looking at me the way he did in January after sledding, when my hair looked like a tornado had sped through it.

“You're beautiful,”
he'd said for the first time, making a shudder of electricity pass through my stomach.

And now he was saying it again.

I couldn't laugh, so I cried instead. Which hurt almost as much as laughing, but required tissues.

When I looked up at Adam Carter, simple Southern landscaper-turned-UPS-driver from Virginia, I couldn't imagine a better match for me. Even if we were as different as grits and Japanese
gobo
root.

“So we're not moving to the Harrisonburg apartment, I guess,” I said, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Now that the house isn't selling.”

“I guess not.” Adam studied me a minute. “I've been thinking. What if we just…well, move in there?”

“Mom's house?” My eyes bugged.

“
Your
house. And then, once we're married,
our
house. If you want.”

I fell speechless, imagining Adam's work jackets in my closet. His UPS uniform and clipboards piled on the sofa, right next to my reporter's notebooks and trendy bracelets. His tennis shoes and my Japanese house slippers strewn among Christie's chew toys.

“I'll commute to college, and you can keep your job.” Adam finished drying my face and tossed the tissue in the trash can. “And I guess you—we, actually—will both be stuck in Staunton a while longer.”

I looked up, cringing. “You mean we're doomed to neighbors who throw horseshoes and spit in cups and play Hank Williams Jr. until two in the morning?”

“Yep. Looks like it. And I drive a pickup, so…” He raised his palms, and his mouth quirked a wry smile.

“Great. You'll fit right in.” I grinned and turned my eyes to the ceiling.

Staunton, Virginia. My new home sweet home. Who'd have guessed?

Adam straightened my blankets, smoothing them along the edges. “And if you need to push the wedding date back, we will,” he said gently. “I just want you to get better. You can take your time.”

“You mean…we'll still have a wedding?”

“Of course we will. It'll be great. Although we'll probably have to cut our honeymoon with all these medical bills.” He stroked his fingers across my cheek as if searching for words. “Did you know you called me, Shiloh?”

“Called you what?”

“No, on your cell phone. That day with Ray.”

“I called Pizza Hut.”

“In the cow pasture. You called me. Ray apparently tossed my cell phone, too, when he dumped me out of the car. I found it in the folds of the blanket.”

He looked pained, caressing my fingers. “I came to when I heard it ringing, and when you mentioned the llama, I figured out where you were. I know the guy who bought Fred Brewer's llama—the only one around here. I used to trim his trees.”

I sat up on one elbow. “Does he by any chance have a tractor?”

“That was me.” Adam smoothed my cheek. “The guy who owns the neighboring farm is hard of hearing, so I begged him to take a shortcut through the field on his tractor. He could see it was an emergency, I guess. I had blood all over me.” He slid his hand down my arm and clasped it. “And so did you. You're lucky to be alive. I promise you that.”

I glanced down at the bandages. “How bad is it?”

Adam didn't speak for a while. “It was touch-and-go for a while. None of us knew for sure if…”

I pressed his hand, and he swallowed hard. “The bullet missed your vital organs. The doc says you look good, and so long as you heal with no infection, you're in the clear. She'll see you soon.”

Somewhere down the corridor music sparkled from a TV, notes lilting and rising, and I remembered. In one powerful swell.

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.”

Cut carnations quivered in a vase on the table. Like Ellen Amelia Jacobs, gracefully saying yes.

Adam was holding a cup of water to my lips when his cell phone rang. “It's Becky,” he whispered. “Do you mind company?”

“Tell her to git her tail in here!” I sniffled in as redneck an accent as I could manage. “And bring me something to eat!”

Adam tucked the phone under his chin. “You're hungry? I'll get the nurse. Anything special you want?”

I thought through my list of exotic Japanese dishes, none of which would be available at Augusta County Medical Center. And for probably the first time in my life, none sounded particularly palatable.

I needed something bland. Something warm and slightly salty, mushy, even, and a little…

“Grits!” I cried. “Ask if they have any grits!”

Adam stared at me. “You, my dear Yankee,” he finally said, Timstyle, hands on his hips, “have been in Virginia entirely too long.”

Before I could say another word, I heard a familiar voice crabbing about the “stupid hospital in the middle of Podunk nowhere.”

“Where did you put her? Purgatory?” she snapped as she stormed down the hall. “Oh. Here it is. For the love of mercy…”

She barged in without knocking, snatching off her sunglasses. “Kyoko?” Adam and I both looked up.

“Of all the stupid, idiotic, boneheaded things to do! Why on earth did you go and get shot?” She carried gobs of stuff—flowers, bags, who knows what. The flowers, orange lilies, quivered as she shouted.

“And in a cow pasture, too,” I added when I found my voice. “Nice touch, huh?”

Kyoko hadn't even heard me. She was too busy waving her arms around. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to get here with all those dumb flight delays? I've been on standby for eighteen hours!”

She glared, dark makeup smeared. “You're impossible, Ro! I don't know why I stay friends with you! If you're not getting fired and jumped by rednecks and stalked by lunatics and marrying farmers, you're…you're…”

She wheeled on Adam, who put his hands up, and she jabbed her finger at him. “You, buster, better know what you're getting into!”

And Kyoko Morikoshi burst into tears, throwing all her stuff in a big heap on the floor.

B
ecky's eyes were already running, and I hadn't even put on my dress yet. “Pull yourself together,” I snapped, shoving more tissues at her while she helped me step into the dress. I stuck my arms in and turned for her to button up the back.

“I'm together,” Becky sniffled. She passed me to Kyoko to expertly tie the red silk obi while Trinity Jackson dabbed more concealer under my eyes.

“What happened to you? Late night?” Trinity teased, tapping on some powder.

“Leaving flowers outside Odysseus's house,” I retorted, closing my eyes while she turned my face and brushed on mascara.

“That ain't funny.” Becky smacked me, digging for more tissues.

“Hear, hear,” said Kyoko, pulling the obi a little too roughly. I yelped, clutching my abdomen.

“Sorry, Ro!” Kyoko gasped, instantly contrite. “You okay?”

Her eyeliner looked significantly lighter today, less vampire-like, and she'd even taken out her eyebrow ring. I should be nice. “Now that you all are here, I'm fine.” I shook my finger at Becky. “And that was two words. Not y'all.”

“I heard ya, Yankee. Now put yer head back. An' hold still.” Becky was always crabby when she morphed into boss mode, and the dresses Ashley hadn't sent—hadn't bought, even—exacerbated things.