To Claim Her (6 page)

Chapter Four

The first thing Gretchen did once she was alone was double check the house.  She had watched enough scary movies to know you didn’t wait until a killer was swinging an axe at you to think of locking up.  No way was she playing the ditzy heroine in a late night flick.  She went through each room, beginning on the first floor, double checking window and door locks before moving upstairs to do the same. 

Once she felt sure she was alone, she started a hot bath.  She was exhausted from the day and wanted nothing more than to scrub off in a hot shower, but her bandages needed another couple of days before she could do without.  She poured in bubbles and tugged her hair into a topknot before stepping into the rising bathwater.  She longed to lie back and relax but didn’t want to wet the gauze and tape.

She used a washcloth to wet her arms and shoulders, thinking about Nora’s daughter and the other women who had trailed after Mark years before.  He had been her boyfriend and seemed to plan more with her after graduation.  Attending college, having a family and a life together. 

She had been blindsided by his choice to leave for the military.   He’d been signed up before ever speaking to her about it. 
His life, his decisions.
  That’s what he’d told her.  She had taken his words to heart and learned that he wasn’t the only one who had to do things his ways. 

She had been three months pregnant when he left and could have told him.  Maybe she should have told him, but she had firsthand experience with forcing someone’s hand.  It never turned out well.  Her father had explained that the only reason he had married her mother was because she was pregnant with Gretchen.   Three days later he had left with another woman, abandoning her and her sister and leaving her mother to obsess about what she could have done differently.  It hadn’t taken long for her to slide into an alcoholic pit of despair.  Gretchen would not let history repeat itself.   Her son would not be someone left behind.

She had done a lot of growing up since then.  She had finished raising her sister, supported her efforts to get into a good college, and managed a life for herself.  One more year would see her sister graduated from college, her son in school, and she could follow through with her plan to pursue a career of her own.  Mark had cut her loose, and she’d sworn never to be the weak one again.  She had a plan for herself and her family, and it didn’t include him.   

A noise caught her attention, and she shut off the tap.  Was it a voice?

She held her breath and listened for it again.  The storm in the distance seemed to be working itself closer.  The wind blew through the leaves and howled.   Not a voice then, just the wind.  

Gretchen propped her leg on the edge of the tub and soaped up.  She pulled a razor from the shelf and quickly ran the blade up her calf.  A screech on the window stilled her hand.  She slowly turned her eyes toward the glass.  An ivory cotton curtain hid the darkness from her gaze.  She laughed at herself uneasily.  She was on the second floor.  Who could reach her window? 

The wind howled through the trees, and the branch against the window screeched at her again.  She looked away and glanced at the metal tub where she sat.  Not the best idea in an impending thunderstorm. 

She quickly finished cleaning up and stepped out onto the mat where she pulled a bath towel from the shelf and wrapped it around her body sarong style.  She moved into her bedroom and fished clothes from her dresser, chiding herself for being a chicken.  She’d been the one to comfort her sister when storms came – thunder or life.  She was the tough one, the one who kept a level head, because no one else around her seemed to. 

She peered around the curtain covering her bedroom window toward the street. There was no police car on the street to give her courage, but a phone sat beside her bed if she needed them.  Officer Landry promised to respond quickly if she called.

The street light outside her window shone into the darkness.  She gazed at the edge of the shadows and focused more closely on movement there.  She leaned her face closer to the glass, certain she’d seen something shift from the light into the darkness surrounding the woods at the edge of her property. 

The wind blew again and a line snapped from the power pole, slapping onto the street with a shower of sparks.  The thunder crackled and rolled as the lights around her blacked out.   

She was in the dark for the second time in one evening.  This was getting to be a habit.

She cursed herself for not lighting a single candle or grabbing the flashlight from under her sink.  She would even settle for the frog flashlight with the plastic eyelids from her car.

She blew out a breath and dropped the curtain back into place.  She carefully felt her way to the nightstand and found the phone.  She kept an old rotary contraption for just this situation.  No battery or power necessary.  Louisiana had some amazing storms and she never wanted to miss a call from her sister, so she put up with the coiled cord constantly tangling.  At least it never went off unless the phone lines were down. 

She lifted the phone from the cradle and held it to her ear. 

Nothing.  It was dead. 

She laid the receiver back in its cradle and moved into the hallway and onto the stairs.  She slid her hand down the handrail, carefully moving down until she stood on the landing.  The thunder rolled and the lightning struck, illuminating her path for a brief moment.  The storm was moving into Caddo Parish.  She quickly made her way into the living room, running her hand along the back of the couch and to the door frame separating the two rooms. 

She stooped down to find the flashlight in the cabinet under the sink.  Her fingers lit on an empty vase and several containers of cleaner before finally landing on the cylinder she hunted for.  She flipped the switch, and a small beam of light shined onto the floor. 

She blew out a breath and a relieved laugh.  Better.  

She searched for her purse.  Her cell phone was there, and she needed to report the downed power line.  She also wanted the cell phone handy in case she needed the police. 

She rummaged through her purse and found her phone.   The number was there in her contact list, and she went through a series of prompts and clicks to tell the company that the power was out on her street.  The storm had hit hard and three thousand other households were also without power, she was told before hanging up.  At least that meant they would be working on the problem. 

The matches were in the first drawer of the desk and assorted candles were scattered throughout the house.  She moved carefully, lighting several and placing them on the table in the living room before dragging an afghan toward the corner and tucking herself into a comfortable chair. 

The storm raged outside, rain joining the high winds and lightning. 

“One Mississippi.  Two Mississippi.”

The bolts of lightning struck right on top of her it seemed.  She had used the same technique to soothe her sister through storms when their mom had still been alive.  Drunk, depressed, desolate, and usually locked in her bedroom having as little to do with her daughters as possible. After she’d died, there household had become a little more predictable.  She would never be the simpering mother she had been unlucky enough to have. 

She knew Mark thought her less brave than full of bravado and maybe he was right over the last few days.  But whatever it took to get back to her usual independent self, she would do it. Even if it meant suffering through this unease feeling from being in her own skin these days.  As long as she had the independence of her home, she could tough it out.  Eddie was counting on her. 

Light flooded the room through the front window of her home.  She eased to the edge of the drapes and peeled them back.  She could make out the brilliance of headlights and narrowed her eyes at the dark vehicle sitting outside.   

A bolt of lightning stretched across the sky before she heard a sharp crack, different from the rolling thunder moments before.  Much closer and louder. 

Time seemed to slow as she watched through the window.  A tree dropped closer. The room grew dark as the roof thundered and cracked, crashing through the roof.  She spun so it landed just inches to her right.  Smaller branches slammed her to the floor so hard her teeth rattled.

She lay stunned, the breath knocked out of her, in a pile of rubble and glass.  If the kidnapper had returned, she was screwed.  She thought of him as a stranger but she couldn’t be sure.  How could she protect herself now?

She was stunned and dizzy from the force of her fall.  She tested her arms and legs, not finding any particular area of pain.  The movement stung her skin as she slid across shattered glass on the floor.  The rain pelted her face, and she closed her eyes against the drops.

Someone was at the door.   Her lagging brain considered the irony that someone would take the time to break through the door to kill her when there was a gaping hole in the front of her living room.

She heard a loud retort, and the door crashed against the wall.  She tried to turn her head to see who was coming, but sharp branches jabbed her neck.  The pile of wood and drywall piled around her made it impossible to escape.

“Lie still.  I’ll get you out.” Mark’s voice. 

She wanted to cry in relief or respond with gratitude but didn’t know what to say.  She wasn’t even sure what she should say.  She couldn’t respond with her usual bold attitude because she was so obviously in need.  And he had come to rescue her even though he was incredibly angry. 

The space beside her opened up as Mark dragged beams and furniture away from her body.  She whined when the branch lodged on her wrist was moved.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.  We’re almost there.”  He cleared enough that he could lift her, painfully, free to sit in the area in front of the door.  The debris on the floor was scratchy on her bare arms and legs but her tank and sleep shorts at least offered some protection for her torso. 

“Are you injured anywhere?”

She held her arm protectively to her belly but shook her head.  Bits of glass and dust fell to the floor.  Sirens echoed in the distance.

He gently brushed the rest of the particles from her face with his fingers.  “Let me help you up. Can you get up?”

“I’m okay.  Just stunned.  How’d you get here so fast?” 

“I called Landry to get an update and learned they weren’t sending a car.”  He closed his eyes for a moment and his lips thinned.  “You should have told me.”

He had come back to protect her, even though he was angry with her.  Perhaps he had matured too. 

“Dad called me on the way.  A tornado warning came across his weather radio.  I figured the lines were down but still wanted to check on you.   Getting here as the neighbor’s tree crashed into your living room was just luck.”

She nodded.  “The power went out just a few minutes before you showed up.”  Red and blue lights illuminated the doorway.  “Police?”

“I called 911 from my cell when the tree dropped.  My heart nearly came out of my chest when I saw where it landed.  Right on top of where you’d been standing.”  He pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her.  He smelled of cologne and man and she tried not to lean in too close because the mingling feelings of relief and temptation were so strong.

“Let’s get you out of here.”  He lifted her upright before tucking his arm behind her knees and lifting her into his arms.  She frowned at him, pressed on his chest, stopping his movement.

She glanced around her living room.  The tree top lay across a chair and the coffee table.  Her candles had been knocked over, and the liquid wax had dampened the wicks putting them out.  How lucky that a fire hadn’t started.  “I can’t leave it like this.”  Everything she owned was here. 

The police officer and Mrs. Harris, her neighbor, entered the living room. 

“Oh dear, are you okay?  I have already called my insurance agent, Gretchen.  He’s on his way now and will call a handy man to help secure the house.  I am so sorry.  And that tree was the one Mr. Harris planted when we first moved into our house.  God rest his soul.  Are you okay?” 

The elderly neighbor was fretting and Gretchen wanted to calm her upset.  “Yes, ma’am.  I’ll be fine.” 

Two men entered the living room shortly after.  One she recognized as the insurance agent, the other as a volunteer fireman she didn’t know by name.  Her breath caught.  The cavalry had arrived, and she was wearing skimpy pajamas. 

Mark’s arms seemed to tighten around her when she moved to get down.  “You can’t walk in here without shoes on.  The glass is everywhere.”  He turned and walked toward the stairs. The light from the front lawn, his headlights and the police cruiser, illuminated the steps. He didn’t put her down then, just kept moving until he got to the top.  

He took her to the bathroom and carefully sat her on the edge of the tub.  He lifted a soft towel from the shelf and grabbed her hand to help her stand.  She winced when she felt the pressure on her wrist.

“You are hurt.”

“Just sore.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He grunted and gently patted the offending arm close to her belly to keep from bumping it.  He carefully brushed the towel through her hair freeing bits of plaster and glass stuck there.  He stroked lightly down her arms to free any debris.   His hands were big and warm in the dim room.   “Better?”

She nodded, and he lifted her again to avoid fresh cuts on her feet.  Once inside her bedroom, he sat her gingerly on the bed.  “Stay put.”  He exited back into the hall. 

It was dark without the flashlight or candles but Gretchen knew the house.  She walked to her closet, grabbed a pair of jeans and her tennis shoes.  She pulled her dresser open.  A beam of light, brighter than her own flashlight could ever have dreamt of being, lit up the room. 

“I told you to stay put.”  Mark stood behind her so she could see more clearly into the dresser.  Her underwear and matching bras lay in a jumbled mess, illuminated by the beam.  She quickly pulled a pair of ankle socks free and moved to close the drawer.  Mark stopped her.