Back to Eden

Cole’s careening thoughts screeched to a halt on Jackson’s question. “Rachel seems to,” Cole answered woodenly. At least with Rachel Cole knew his daughter was in good hands, especially if he could convince her to give up firefighting.

“That’s good. You’ve always gotten along with her.”

“Sure. A decade ago we were friends.” That was before he realized everything about his time in Eden was a lie. “Why did she do this to me?” Cole wasn’t sure if he meant Missy keeping Jenna a secret or Rachel telling him about Jenna.

“Why don’t you ask Rachel?”

“I will. Tomorrow.” And all during the drive back to Eden. Like it or not, Rachel was getting a ride home from Cole. Cole hoped that was enough time to get to know more about his daughter and what he should do, and crack the mystery that had been Missy. Somehow, Cole knew that if he didn’t understand Missy better, his heart would never let her go. And the only person with answers was Rachel.

“ARE WE CLOSE?” Matt asked, walking with wobbly steps as he tried to balance the plastic-wrapped flowers Pop had purchased in the gift shop with one chubby hand. His other hand held Pop’s.

Jenna wasn’t sure what to be more worried about—her grandfather falling down and hurting himself or Matt tripping and crushing the flowers. She pressed the bunch of flowers back against Matt’s chest before looking at the numbers on the wall. “The lady said 112. This is 104.”

Jenna didn’t like hospitals. Bad things happened there. She walked next to Pop and Matt with her head down, concentrating on pulling the small wheeled suitcase. Trying to be quiet. Only, it was hard to be quiet in cowboy boots. She wished they could walk faster, but Pop had been wobbly on his feet since his eyes had gotten worse.

“Is this it?” Matt peeked into the next room. He’d just started kindergarten and wasn’t good with numbers yet.

Jenna shook her head. “No, 106.”

Matt ran to the next doorway, almost tripping over his own feet. “Is this it?”

“No.” Sometimes Matt was annoying. Jenna bit her lip to keep from yelling at him.

Pop’s gnarled hand rested on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “I’m real proud of you. We couldn’t have made this trip without you, Jenna.”

“I got us lost,” Jenna mumbled, burning with embarrassment.

“Yes,” Pop chuckled. “But then you found us again.”

Matt was running ahead, dragging the flowers on the gray floor as he stuck his head in room after room, calling out, “Is this it, Jenna?”

“Matt, stop,” Jenna hissed, seeing the nurse at the desk ahead of them frown, then stand up. “Wait for us.”

“Can I help you?” The nurse didn’t smile. Jenna could tell by her frown she didn’t really want to help them. The last time Jenna had been in a hospital was when Matt was born. Her mom had been crying. The nurse had pushed her out of the room and warned her to stay put or else.

Matt had stopped in the middle of the hallway, moving the bunch of flowers up and down and around as if he held a toy airplane. Jenna shushed him before he started making engine noises. Any minute now the nurse was going to kick them out.

Pop squeezed Jenna’s shoulder again. “We’re here to see my daughter, Rachel Quinlan. She’s in room 112.”

Jenna held her breath. That nurse was going to open her mouth and…

“Ahh, I was worried you wouldn’t get here in time.” The nurse came around the desk to them.

“In time?” Pop said, frowning in the nurse’s direction.

Jenna knew it. Aunt Rachel was dying.

“THERE SHE IS! Mommy!” Matt ran on stubby legs across the gray linoleum to Rachel’s bed, flinging his arms and a bouquet of flowers over her waist before resting his head on the mattress.

He didn’t land on her with much force, but Rachel’s muscles contracted around her bruised ribs, momentarily sending waves of pain through her chest.

When Rachel could breathe again, she ran a hand over Matt’s dark, silky hair and smiled as best she could through sudden tears at the sight of her father hobbling through the door with one hand on Jenna’s shoulder. She was glad to see them, yet she worried that if Cole came before they left he’d say something Jenna wasn’t ready to hear.

“There’s my girl,” Pop said, without looking at her directly. Since macular degeneration had decreased the clarity in the middle of Pop’s vision, he’d taken to looking at things sideways. “We’re here to take you home.”

“And bring you clean clothes,” Matt added, plucking at her hospital gown. “Looks like someone stole yours.”

“This is what you wear in a hospital. How was your trip?” Rachel lowered her voice to a whisper meant only for Matt. “Did you have any accidents?” He was having a bit of trouble remembering to go to the bathroom in school.

“Nope.” The little guy gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Jenna’s face was pale. She looked thinner than normal and remained rooted in the doorway, gripping the suitcase handle. Unlike Matt, who had the appetite of a teenager, Jenna didn’t think much about food.

Rachel wanted to gather them all close, but knew if she sat up too fast, she’d keel over, scaring the daylights out of them all. She settled for reaching out to Pop. “How did you get here?”

Her dad wasn’t allowed to drive long distances or at night, but he’d figured out how to get their family to Montana from Wyoming. Rachel wished they hadn’t surprised her. She would have preferred to get some of the tubes out of her arms so that she didn’t look like such an invalid.

“We took the bus,” Pop said in a gruff voice, taking Rachel’s hand and holding on tight, his bony fingers still strong despite his age and failing health. “Couldn’t stomach you being here alone. We hoped to be here yesterday.”

With an impish smile, Matt said, “It took Pop forever to find the bus place. Then Jenna read the thing wrong, and we ended up on the wrong bus.” He rolled his eyes.

Ignoring Matt, Jenna moved forward with slow steps, asking in a strained voice, “What happened to your head?”

“I’ve got a big bruise.” With effort, Rachel held her smile in place. She knew she looked scary. She could barely stand to look at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve never had a bruise like that.” Matt peered at her hair.

Rachel prayed he never would.

“It looks like you’re wearing a beanie on your head.” Blue eyes wide, Jenna made a circular motion with her hand around her crown. “Are you going to be like that forever?”

The noise Rachel hoped was a laugh sounded more like a donkey braying. “Of course not.” She wasn’t particularly vain, but she’d asked two nurses and the doctor the same thing.

“What’s the word on the Privateer?” Pop asked. “Can we salvage it?”

Hating to disappoint him, Rachel avoided his gaze. “There’s nothing left to salvage.”

“Did you wreck your plane?” Matt stuck out his lower lip. “Couldn’t you save her?”

“You did save the most important thing on board,” Pop said, squeezing Rachel’s hand. A veteran of many wars and a few crashes, her dad was probably fully aware of what she was going through—the doubts, the fear, the guilt over Danny’s death, the anger that she hadn’t been good enough to avert disaster.

And she still had Missy’s secrets to worry about.

“We’ll find an even better plane. I’ll call a couple of people when we get home.” Pop’s smile and words were meant to reassure.

But Rachel’s throat closed. She’d come close to cutting her life short, to letting them all down. How was she going to find the will to get in the air again?

Jenna stood at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Missy’s daughter understood how close she’d come to losing Rachel. She was an old soul who’d seen too much sorrow for a ten-year-old.