A Stranger in Wynnedower (39 page)

He never opened his
eyes, but the lines around them deepened with pain. He was sufficiently
conscious to murmur her name. She put her ear close to his lips in case he had
more to say, but there were only thin, erratic breaths.

Helene appeared,
dropping into her line of sight, to kneel alongside Jack.

Rachel yelled, “Call
9-1-1.”

“May did. She’s in the
kitchen. Waiting.” Helene’s hands moved over Rachel’s, becoming bloody. She ran
her fingers along her brother’s face, leaving red streaks.

“May shot him.” Rachel
bent over and kissed his forehead. “We need help now, Helene. Now.”

Helene nodded. She
stood and left. The front door slammed.

Minutes later—minutes
in which Rachel felt like she aged a year for every drop of blood Jack lost—she
heard running footsteps. A slim woman with white-blonde hair paused only a split
second in the doorway and was then quickly on the floor beside them. Rachel
didn’t question it when the woman lifted her hands to examine the wound, then
placed them again on Jack’s abdomen. The woman slipped her fingers beneath his
back. When she pulled them out, they were wet with blood.

The woman held his
wrist, pressing one finger against his flesh to feel his pulse. She pressed the
tips of the fingers on her other hand along his neck near his jaw.

Rachel’s first thought
was how odd that Amanda should arrive now, how ironic that her mother would’ve
made her a widow if she hadn’t already been divorced.

Her next thought was
that this woman was too young to be Amanda.

Jeremy knelt on the
floor beside them.

Unreality. Seeing
Jeremy suddenly there made it seem more unreal, yet more manageable all at the
same time. Illogic cradled her breaking heart and kept her going.

Jeremy held a folded
cloth firmly against the wounded area as he drew Rachel’s bloody hands away.
She was horrified by the abundance of blood, but encouraged, too, by the slower
soaking of the cloths that had appeared beside them.

“The bleeding has
slowed. That’s a good thing.” She told herself it
must
be a good thing.
It couldn’t be that the flow was slower because he was running out of it.

The blonde woman said,
“His pulse is weak. Are the EMTs on the way?”

“I think so. Helene
said May called 9-1-1.”

“Where’s the shooter?”
Jeremy asked.

“May. May shot him.”

He followed her gaze to
where the gun lay. “May shot him and then called 9-1-1? Do you know where she
is?”

“Helene said she’s
waiting for the sheriff in the kitchen.”

“Helene? Is she the
thin, shy woman?”

He lifted his head,
listening. In the next second, she heard the first sirens.

Belatedly, she asked,
“Where’d you come from?”

“Helene was running
down the dirt road as Lia and I drove up.”

They heard footsteps in
the foyer. Jeremy yelled, “In here!”

Rachel nearly sobbed in
relief. Too soon for relief. But Jeremy and his Lia were here, and now the
authorities had arrived. They were trained professionals who knew more than
only what they might have read or imagined—and in a true emergency, they didn’t
go blank.

****

Hope was the cruelest
emotion of all. It was also the most uplifting.

Jack would be fine. No
other outcome was acceptable to her. From the moment they were en route to the
hospital, every cell in her brain sparked alive and focused on visualizing Jack
well and whole.

If force of human will
could direct the present and future, then Jack and she were going to be okay.
She added a prayer, too, and wished faith and God was something she’d spent
some time learning. Strangely, when she sent up that prayer, it felt
‘received,’ and hope began to seem reasonable. With it, her mind seemed to
clear. With the clarity came regret.

Rachel sat by his
hospital bed. Lia sat on the cushioned window seat with her legs drawn up and
her eyelids drooping. Jeremy had gone for coffee.

Jack’s eyelids
fluttered, perhaps dreaming, loitering somewhere below the veil of
consciousness. She touched his arm, and though she knew she should let him
rest, she ran her fingers lightly along his skin.

Regret. For whatever
part she’d played in pushing May to the breaking point, and for thinking she
could manage a deadly weapon, then treating it like it was no more impactful
than something in a story or movie. Irresponsible. It wasn’t a word she’d ever
expected to apply to herself.

“I’m here.”

“Take me home, to
Wynnedower.”

His weak, murmured
command was laughable since he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

“All in good time.”

“How’s May?”

His question shocked
her as did her own sudden rush of anger. She bit her lip. Now wasn’t the time
for bitter words.

A woman spoke from the
doorway, “She’s okay. She’s sorry.”

Rachel looked up,
startled. The dark-haired woman, tall and slim, wore a suit far more stylish
than she, Rachel, could ever have imagined wearing. ‘Style’ fit the woman. It
took seeing it to understand. The woman walked fluidly and with the confidence
Rachel had always wanted to show—the confidence that said she had every right
to be here or anywhere.

“You must be Amanda.”

She stopped within a
couple of feet. “Rachel?”

The woman extended her
hand, but Rachel kept hers firmly upon Jack’s arm.

Amanda drew her hand
back. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m truly sorry for what happened with Mother.
Something like this never occurred to me.” She gave Jack a long, slow look.
“How is he?”

Rachel removed her hand
from Jack’s arm and stepped back. Jack’s arm moved, following her, his hand
seeking hers.

His words were
breathless and slightly slurred. “Amanda. I’m sorry about May. I should’ve
managed it better.”

“No, Jack.” She touched
his arm on the other side of the bed. “It was her choice. Our mistake was in
not being firm about the truth, however harsh.” She laughed softly. “Once she
had us all arranged, she didn’t want anything to change. I think she loves
Wynnedower almost as much as she loves me. More, really.” She stared across the
room, her eyes touching briefly upon Jeremy and Lia. “Mother says it was an
accident, that she was returning the gun.” Amanda dropped her gaze to the
floor. “Thank you for telling the police you thought it was a mistake.”

Jack didn’t respond.
Rachel thought he’d drifted off again. She doubted the accident story, but it
was a moot point now. She spoke into the gap. “Wynnedower and the Wynne family were
her life.”

Amanda shook her head
and sighed. “It was all Wynnedower. For her the Wynnes were only an extension
of the house. I’m certain it’s true. How else could she have been satisfied
with living as she did? What will she do now?”

“She’ll find something
else to live for. People do.” Did that sound harsh?

Amanda sighed. “I don’t
know what the judge will say, but thank God Jack didn’t die. We’ll return for
the hearing, but she won’t see Wynnedower again. Ever.”

“He’s out again. Let
him rest.” She took Amanda by the hand and drew her to the doorway.

Jeremy was standing
there, holding cups of coffee. They exchanged looks. He nodded, then continued
past to where Lia sat.

Rachel said, “Jack’s will
be okay. As to punishment….”

“She’ll never return to
Wynnedower. Ironic, isn’t it?” Amanda hugged her arms. “At any rate, let Jack
know that Helene is coming home with me for a visit. When he’s up on his feet
again, he can come to New York to get her.”

“Thank you.”

Amanda shook her head.
“Mother is terribly fond of Helene, as am I. Do you know what she kept saying
to me? Over and over, she said Helene will never sell Wynnedower. Do you know
what that’s all about?”

Rachel shivered and was
grateful Amanda interpreted the movement as denial.

“Well, maybe someday
she’ll be able to explain it herself.” She looked across the room at Jack.
“Tell him, too, that the paintings arrived safely. They are being evaluated
now. So far the results are encouraging.”

Encouraging? Half a
dozen paintings, possibly from the brushes of some of the most famous artists
of modern times, and she said ‘encouraging.’ Later, when they had all
recovered, they could celebrate—not the authenticity of the paintings, but life
itself.

“One last thing. The
property management company has another caretaker installed at Wynnedower.”

Amanda left. Rachel
turned to the cushioned window seat where Jeremy sat with his arm around Lia.
Her head rested on his shoulder, and both of them were silent and staring.

“Don’t you two have a
plane to catch?”

Jeremy shook his head.
“We can’t leave you like this.”

“You can, and you will.
I’m ready to move forward and you are, too.” Rachel wrapped her arms around
Jeremy first, then motioned to Lia to join the group hug. When she released
them, she said, “Go now, but….”

“What, Sis?” Jeremy
sounded anxious.

“Keep your guest room
ready. You never know when I might show up for a visit. I’ll expect you to be
there this time.”

They left and, despite
her encouraging words, once they were out of the room, she had to dab at tears.

The window overlooked
the parking lot. A few floors below, Jeremy and Lia emerged hand in hand,
walking with renewed energy. Jeremy looked up and waved. Rachel smiled. He
might not be able to see his big sister standing at the window, but he knew
she’d be watching.

Her phone buzzed. She
pulled it out of her pocket. A message notification. She hit the voicemail
button.

“Ms. Sevier? This is
Carina. I’m calling regarding the appointment with Mr. Ballew. He’s back and
asked me to contact you with regard to the interview. If you’re still
interested, please call, and we’ll schedule a new appointment.”

Jack whispered, “Are
you laughing?”

Rachel leaned over and
kissed his rough cheek. “I just got a voicemail.”

“From your brother?” He
sounded confused.

“No, that’s old news.
This, Jack, is a message about the future.”

THE END

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

Grace Greene writes stories with romance,
suspense and inspiration ~ always with a strong heroine at its heart. A
Virginia native, Grace lives in central Virginia. Stay current with Grace’s
releases and appearances, and contact her at
www.GraceGreeneAuthor.com

You’ll also find Grace here:

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Other Books
by Grace Greene

If you enjoyed A STRANGER IN WYNNEDOWER, you might
like BEACH RENTAL and KINCAID’S HOPE.

BEACH RENTAL

RT Book Reviews
- September 2012 - 4.5 stars TOP PICK

No author can even come
close to capturing the awe-inspiring essence of the North Carolina coast like
Greene. Her debut novel seamlessly combines hope, love and faith, like the
female equivalent of Nicholas Sparks. ...you'll hear the gulls overhead and the
waves crashing onto shore.

Brief Description
:

On the Crystal Coast of North Carolina, in the small
town of Emerald Isle...

Juli Cooke, hard-working and getting
nowhere fast, marries a dying man, Ben Bradshaw, for a financial settlement,
not expecting he will set her on a journey of hope and love. The journey brings
her to Luke Winters, a local art dealer, but Luke resents the woman who married
his sick friend and warns her not to hurt Ben—and he's watching to make sure
she doesn't.

Until Ben dies and the stakes change.

Framed by the timelessness of the
Atlantic Ocean and the brilliant blue of the beach sky, Juli struggles against
her past, the opposition of Ben's and Luke's families, and even
the living reminder of her marriage—to build a future with
hope and perhaps to find the love of her life—if she can survive the danger
from her past.

KINCAID’S HOPE

RT Book Reviews
- August 2012 - 4 STARS

A quiet, backwater town is
the setting for intrigue, deception and betrayal in this exceptional sophomore offering.
Greene's ability to pull the reader into the story and emotionally invest them
in the characters makes this book a great read.