A Temporary Arrangement

“M-my keys.” He fumbled at his side with his good hand and found the truck keys in his jeans’ pocket. “Two miles…out of town. Right on the church road…ten, eleven miles to the old corn crib and north past the Peters place. K-Keifer…knows.”

And then the light in the room faded and darkness enveloped him as he listened to the soft murmur of voices too distant to hear.

CHAPTER THREE

KEIFER KNOWS, Matthews had said as he’d awkwardly tossed Abby his set of keys.

The boy knew what? How to get home? Knew about something that had to be done?

His father had certainly had quite a reaction to the Demerol…first exhibiting drowsiness and dizziness, then signs of respiratory depression. Coupled with his nausea, he’d been one sick puppy.

During her years in nursing Abby had rarely seen that level of response.

And now Abby was facing his son—a boy masking his obvious fear and confusion with a veneer of arrogance—who really, really didn’t think he wanted to go with her, anywhere.

Pale and slender with close-cropped strawberry-blond hair and a dusting of freckles over his upturned nose, she wanted to reassure him with a hug. Fat chance.

The difference between him and the rowdy Reynolds boys—who’d gone home with their mother an hour ago—was night and day. The Reynolds were exuberant, mischievous, with a penchant for noise and trouble. This boy sat glaring silently at her as if she planned to kidnap him and sell him into child slavery.

It wasn’t a surprise, though. Keifer had only seen his dad for a few minutes before the helicopter left, and the man had been ghost-pale and too groggy to make any sense. That alone must have been scary.

“Honey, your dad just had a little reaction to the pain medicine,” Abby said gently. “He needs to have those cuts fixed on his arm, and then he’ll probably be back here tomorrow. If they want to keep him longer, I’ll take you up there to see him, okay?”

Keifer didn’t quite meet her eyes, and his mumbled response might have been a yes or no.

“In the meantime, I told your dad I’d take care of you. I’d been thinking that you could just come home with me, but he gave me directions to his place. Do we need to go there?”

Keifer’s chin jerked up and he gave her a level, challenging stare. “Chores.”

“Like, dogs maybe? Cats?” The boy didn’t answer, but feeding and watering a few pets wouldn’t be hard. She took Ethan’s keys out of the pocket of her lab jacket. “What time of day does he do these chores?”

“All day.”

“You mean, several times a day?” Abby looked up at the clock. “I imagine he took care of everything earlier this morning. We could go out now and get it done, then get back to town for a late supper.”

That earned her a derisive glance, but at least the kid followed her out to her car. He surveyed the vehicle with a dubious expression before hiking a thumb toward a battered pickup with big, big tires and a hydraulic winch mounted on the grill. “You should take Dad’s.”

It looked huge. It probably had a standard transmission. And driving it, she suspected, would be like maneuvering a bulldozer. “My car will be fine. Hop in.”

Keifer slumped in his seat, glued to the door, and folded his arms over his chest. She finally gave up trying to engage him in conversation when she turned off the main highway onto a loose gravel lane through stands of pine and hardwoods.

Heavy gray dust boiled up behind the car during the endless miles to the corn crib Ethan had mentioned…which, she hoped, was that small structure just ahead. Tipping drunkenly into a maple tree, it could have just been an old shed.

A dirt road veered off into the trees a dozen yards past the rickety building, but there were no street signs or mailboxes anywhere. In fact, she hadn’t seen signs of life for the past five miles.

“Okay, sport,” she said after stopping the car. “Is this where we turn?”

Keifer slumped lower in his seat. “Maybe.”

“We’ve come the right way so far?”

He craned his neck to peer out the window and shrugged.

“You’ve never been here?” Surprised, she turned to look at him.

“It was dark when I got here last night,” he said defensively. “And we were going the other direction this morning. I don’t remember from last year.”

Last year? What kind of dad only saw his son once a year? Her opinion of Ethan Matthews dropped. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” She drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel, considering. “What do you think—should we take a chance on this little road?”

“I guess. I just remember it was kinda muddy.”

A description that fit the farm lane quite well from what she could see after they made the turn. Leaning forward to see ahead better, she negotiated the ruts and bumps of the first mile, then breathed a sigh of relief as the road started to climb.

The tumbledown house off to the left might be the Peters place Ethan had mentioned. And ahead…

“Is that it?” She pointed across a shallow valley to fenced pasture. Beyond that lay a collection of buildings nearly hidden by a grove of trees.

Keifer straightened in his seat to see over the dash. “There’s Buddy, Dad’s horse. The cows are prob’ly over the hill. And the goats—”

“The goats?”

“Three. They’re probably in the garden.”

“I’ll bet your dad wants them in there,” Abby said dryly.

“Not really, but he can’t make them stay out,” Keifer announced with relish, his mouth curved in a faint, smug smile. “They can get out of anything, he says. Baxter’s real mean.”

As she drove down the next slope, the mud grew deeper, grabbing at the tires and pulling the vehicle to one side. An ominous stretch of deeply rutted road lay between them and the Matthews place ahead.

She debated briefly, then gunned the motor and held the steering wheel in a death grip as the car shot forward. Halfway there. Three quarters…

The vehicle slowed as it sank deeper and deeper until it mired down with its wheels spinning uselessly and mud flying into the air behind them.

“Shoulda taken the truck,” Keifer observed, darting an I-told-you-so look at her.

“We might still be all right. Don’t worry just yet.” Abby unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. The car was buried to its frame. “Okay. Now we can worry.”

The bright afternoon sunshine had gradually disappeared behind clouds during the past half hour. Her cell phone reception was mostly just static.

And the only towing service in the area was back at Blackberry Hill, though she’d overheard a disgruntled nurse complain that the owner often quit early and went fishing.

And she was almost sure she’d seen a truck emblazoned with Mel’s Towing ahead of her car as she’d driven out of town.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN the car and the next dry stretch of road, Keifer lost a tennis shoe in the mud and Abby realized her taupe slacks and loafers were a total loss.

By the time she and the boy trudged up the last hill—which was much farther away than it had appeared from the other side—and reached the Matthewses’ mailbox, thunder echoed through the dark sky and bolts of lightning shook the ground beneath their feet.

“Run, Keifer!” Abby shouted over the rising wind. “I’ve got a key for the house.”