Ax held me close and hard for a long moment in the steep shadow of the sharply-pitched depot roof. The strength of his need to continue moving radiated like lightning from his lean, tense body; remaining stationary when Patricia was in danger gouged deeply into his already-wounded heart.
“Be careful,” I begged, burying my face against his sweat-stained shirt, gulping with restrained sobs. “Please, Ax.”
“I’ll keep in touch as best I can, I swear to you, Ruthie. I got you here but now I have to go.” He drew away, lifting my chin so I could no longer hide my eyes. “They will care for you. These are good and decent people. I would never leave you here if I thought otherwise.”
“I pray you’ll find Patricia,” I whispered. He never would; he had no chance. I knew I would never see Axton Douglas again after today and my only comfort was the notion that soon I would be dead. Lorie said we would reach Landon by tomorrow evening; once there, I intended to slip away and take a midnight swim in Flickertail Lake. What I did not intend was to come out alive. The promise of drowning was all that kept the pain at bay moment to moment. I knew Marshall and our unborn son would be waiting for me on the other side.
“I’ll find her,” Axton vowed, looking south. He didn’t have to say, Or I’ll die trying.
“Your middle name is Ethan,” I whispered; the fact had just occurred to me. “Like the man they believe is your real father.”
Axton returned his gaze to mine, slowly shaking his head as a meditative expression replaced a fraction of his stress. “Ain’t that something else? Boyd promised to tell me the whole story when we get supplies.” A hint of a smile graced his mouth. “It would mean I still have kin, Ruthie, imagine that. I never would have guessed such in a hundred years.”
“Remember that day I washed your hair for you? Branch said neither of your parents was redheaded, remember? Maybe your mother named you for your real father, after all.” Inundated by tenderness and love I stretched on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, gripping his head with both hands, my palms bracketing his ears. “I don’t care who your parents were, I love them for making you. You are more special to me than you could know, Axton Douglas. I love you.” Tears jammed my nose and throat, gliding in hot trickles down my cheeks; I was glad he could not read my mind, and was therefore unaware of my intent to die. “Never forget me, okay? Promise me.”
Tears swept his cheeks. Unashamed, he let them fall. “I love you too, Ruthie. And you won’t have time to forget me. I’ll be back with Patricia before you know it.”
I nodded, pretending I believed him.
The noon hour came and went, and along with it Axton and Malcolm. The St. Paul streets were noisy, crowded with wagons, buggies, horses, mules, and foot traffic; I watched them until I could see nothing of Axton but his hat, before that too was gobbled from view. We had gathered on the hotel steps to bid them farewell and I meant to retain my composure, failing utterly as Axton disappeared from my life; the universe had already swallowed whole my reason for living. Vision blurring, I would have gone to my knees if not for Lorie’s quick movement, catching me around the waist. Despite her delicate build her arms were strong, holding me secure.
“It seems Malcolm is always riding away from us,” she said softly. “I hate it so.”
I locked my knees, praying I could stave off the shaking until I was alone. I found a measure of comfort in Lorie’s presence, touched that she would confide in me.
She drew a fortifying breath, patting me twice as she gently ordered, “Come, Ruthann, I promised Axton I would see to it that you ate a proper dinner.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Landon, MN - March, 2014
THE FIRST NIGHT, TISH WOULD ONLY ALLOW CLINT AND me near her. We lay on either side, bracketing her body, holding fast, but our strength was not enough to overpower the shaking. I spoke not a word, nor did Clint after his first attempt to offer comfort. Mom and Aunt Jilly stayed near in case we called for something. Tish’s friend, Robbie Benson, had flown home with her from Chicago and was stationed in the living room; I heard the quiet murmur of his deeper male voice conversing with the womenfolk when Tish wasn’t weeping or vomiting. There was nothing to say to change what had happened; I refused to pacify her with promises that everything would be all right.
Nothing was all right.
Case had died in my sister’s arms.
Force had been required to remove her from the crime scene in Chicago; she wouldn’t let the police take his body away.
I only allowed my thoughts to stray a few minutes ahead at a time; to consider any farther into the future of our current reality was too terrifying. I had to believe, now more than ever, that we could change things.
“Thank you for being here,” Tish whispered near dawn, startling me from a light, troubled doze.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I brushed hair from her wet, tear-sticky face, relieved to hear her voice. She lay facing me with knees bent to her chest and hadn’t spoken since yesterday evening. Flat on his back on her far side, Clint rumbled with snores. A grayish tint lent the bedroom an eerie, otherworldly feeling; Tish’s features seemed shaded by pencil strokes. I drew the quilt higher over her shoulders.
“Is Robbie still here?” she croaked.
“He’s sleeping downstairs. Dad called twice last night but I didn’t talk to him.”
“Camille,” she moaned and I curved around her at once, bracing for another onslaught of anguish. Her words were self-inflicted
