“I’m sure you will.” He shifted his glance from his daughter. “I’m going to stay in Walburg for a few days, to be close by.”
Brynn frowned.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know much about Walburg, but I doubt there’s a motel.”
He looked at her curiously. How could she live in this remote area and not know much about the closest town? “I’ll find something. Now I’d better say goodbye to Andrea.”
Retracing his steps, he approached his daughter and took her hand. “Remember, Annie, Mrs. Alder is going to help you.”
He nearly lost his resolve when a tear escaped her eye. Instead, he bent down for a final but fierce hug.
“I’ll phone,” he promised after releasing Andrea. “And you have my cell number.”
Roy turned away, busying himself with the horse feed.
Realizing Andrea wasn’t going to reply, Jake forced himself not to look back as he left the barn.
Brynn stood beside the corral. “I know you’re worried about her. I would hate to leave a troubled child of my own with a stranger.”
Jake searched her face, hoping he’d made the right decision, that he was wise to place his trust in this woman.
Her kind smile seemed to say that she understood his concerns, that it would be all right.
Even though she shut the gate quietly after he passed through it, the closing sounded so final. Realizing that lingering wouldn’t help Andrea, he climbed into his SUV and drove back to the main road.
Once he reached Walburg, it didn’t take long to drive its meager streets. He spotted a church, a school, various stores and small businesses, an old-fashioned hamburger place and even an additional small eatery. But he didn’t see a motel or inn.
He stopped at the gas station and began pumping fuel. Jake didn’t see anyone until the he’d replaced the pump, his tank full. A man dressed in neat but well-used overalls emerged from the garage. Jake handed over his credit card. “Is there a motel or boardinghouse nearby?”
“The closest is probably in Kalochton. Not much of a place, but it’d do in a pinch.”
“How far is Kalochton?”
“About fifty miles.”
An hour’s drive. He wanted to be closer. “And if it’s full, how far is another one?”
“Another fifty miles. But the place in Kalochton’s never full except during Octoberfest.”
Jake accepted his receipt. “Thanks for the information.”
“Thanks for your business. Stop by again if you’re in town.”
The unexpected small-town courtesy reminded Jake of days past, when hospitality had been the trademark of small businesses. A time before one-stop superstores had changed rural America. “I’ll do that.”
Encouraged by the man’s friendliness, Jake considered it a good sign that Andrea would be close to this community.
Traveling on the two-lane road, he found it took an hour and a half to reach Kalochton. All that could be said for the motel was that his room had an adequate bed—although it had to be pulled out from the wall. And once down, the Murphy bed filled the room. There was no desk on which to spread out the contents of his packed briefcase, and between a very spare shower stall and a small sink, the minuscule bathroom had just enough space to turn around in.
Unconcerned about the accommodations, Jake phoned the ranch. Mrs. Alder answered, saying there was nothing to report. She didn’t attempt to falsely assure him that all was well. They both knew Andrea was far from well.
Although exhausted by the emotional upheaval, Jake knew he couldn’t nap during the day; his restless energy never allowed it. He was accustomed to staying in hotels around the world, where his work always absorbed him. But now, even after he’d unrolled a set of plans, he couldn’t concentrate. All he could see was his daughter’s tortured face, the pull of her pleading eyes. And the woman who might well be Annie’s last chance.
BRYNN RUBBED HER FOREHEAD, trying to fend off the beginnings of a headache. It had been a long day, this first one with Andrea. That wasn’t uncommon. Most young teens initially resented being sent to her. Andrea, however, didn’t display resentment, but rather hopelessness. And that, Brynn knew, was far more difficult to overcome.
She’d had one small victory. Convincing Andrea to drink a fortified milkshake wasn’t a huge accomplishment, but the steps to recovery were often small.
Now, Andrea had gone to bed. She was docile about accepting the rules. But the apathy was hard to take. Brynn glanced at her watch. Enough time had passed that Andrea should be asleep.
Walking quietly, Brynn entered the guest room, accompanied by the quiet clicking of Virgil’s toenails. The small night-light she always left on glowed in the still room. Shamus, who had stuck close to Andrea all day, was stretched out beside the bed.
Stepping around the dog, Brynn studied the girl. Even in sleep, she looked agitated. Brynn gently stroked back the hair that fell over Andrea’s cheek, remembering how she had often done the same to her daughter. It was one of the many things she missed. In twelve years of tucking Sarah in, no day had been complete without that ritual.
Sighing, she stepped back, stooping to pat Shamus, then went out quietly, leaving the door ajar so she could hear Andrea if there was a problem in the night.
Once back in her own room, Brynn strolled to the window. Outside, the sky was clear and dark, unmarred by city lights. The quiet, the peace…it had helped her these past months. But the nights were still bad—the loneliness of her bed, the lack of someone with whom to talk over all the big or little events of the day.
Her cats, Bert and Ernie, were curled up on the pillow next to hers. The terriers, Molly and Duncan, were stretched out on the thick rug beside the bed. But Virgil wouldn’t rest until she did. After climbing into bed, Brynn picked up the book on her nightstand. But her mind traveled from the page to the child down the hall. After an hour, she gave up trying to read and turned off the light. Sleep was usually elusive, but she hoped it would come tonight.
Some time later, in that blurry state before being truly asleep, Brynn jerked awake when she heard a piercing scream. Heart racing, she touched her lips, wondering if the scream had come from her own mouth, as it had so often in the past, the product of her continuing nightmares.
But the wail continued. Jumping from her bed, Brynn tore down the hall and into Andrea’s room. The child’s eyes were still closed, her body rigid, held in the grip of a nightmare.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Brynn gently grasped the girl’s shoulders. “Andrea, wake up, sweetie. Come on. Wake up.”
Andrea’s eyes opened and she flinched. A rapid pulse was visible in her thin throat. Patting her back, Brynn spoke motherly, comforting words, but Andrea didn’t respond. Terror convulsed her, then huge, wrenching sobs erupted.
“Andrea, it’s all right. It was a nightmare. Scary, I know, but not real.”
Andrea shook her head in denial. “It’s real! I’m here!” Through the words, she gasped for breath.
It hit Brynn what she meant. Apparently feeling abandoned by her father, Andrea thought the nightmare was her life. Brynn couldn’t let the child believe her father would desert her as her mother had. “Annie, do you want me to call your dad?”
The girl’s quivering head finally bobbed up and down.
“I’ll go phone. Shamus and Virgil will stay