Scared to Death. Debby Giusti

cried for all she had lost that night. For the dreams that had died with Eddie. For the life she’d wanted, had come to expect, that had ended with the fire. For the lie about love she’d believed too long.

      She wasn’t worthy of love. Love was for those good enough and deserving enough.

      She was neither.

      Her father had walked out of her life.

      Eddie had betrayed her.

      She’d learned her lesson. She’d never love again. The pain was too great to bear.

      And she’d carried it too long.

      “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. Hold on, honey.” Nolan’s words when he’d saved her from the water slammed through her mind.

      Where had that come from?

      Crazy.

      She pushed the thought away and pulled in another ragged breath.

      She needed to escape from all the memories.

      Sleep, Kate. Hopefully, she’d find solace in her slumber.

      Unless Nolan found his way there.

      No. She shook her head. She wouldn’t give him access to her dreams…or her emotions.

      That was a promise she had to keep.

      

      By 5:00 p.m., the pungent mix of sausage, tomatoes and Italian seasonings filled the kitchen. Nolan stirred the sauce simmering on the stove and waited for water in the large stainless steel pot to boil.

      Dark skies hung outside the kitchen window as desolate as his mood. Ice that had begun to melt midday had refrozen with the evening drop in temperature.

      Earlier, he’d walked the property, passed the creek where Kate’s car had broken through the guardrail then plummeted into the icy water below.

      The Almighty had directed his steps. Thank You, Lord. Otherwise two women would need to be laid to rest.

      Hard to believe Tina was dead. And from a reaction to latex. It didn’t make sense.

      If only Tina had been more forthcoming about her condition. She’d been so private, and Nolan hadn’t wanted to pry.

      Kate had questioned cremation. But Tina didn’t have much money, and cremation was a cheaper option for her. Nolan shook his head. Right now, he needed to focus on Heather.

      With a heavy heart, he stirred the sauce and glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes ago, he’d rapped on Heather’s door and told her dinner was almost ready. Not that he expected his daughter to leave her room.

      If only Kate would come out soon, trade her afternoon of seclusion for a good meal and a little conversation.

      A smiling face sitting across the table might lift the gloom and help take his mind from all that had happened.

      Trucks rumbled in the distance. County road vehicles probably laying salt. Main stretch to town should be in decent shape by midmorning. In time for church.

      The good reverend would hold services no matter how many folks gathered for worship.

      And Tina’s funeral?

      The loss cut through him again.

      Wade had insisted on holding the service tomorrow. But Nolan agreed with his houseguest. A bit too—

      “Dinner smells delicious.”

      He turned at the sound of Kate’s voice.

      She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, crutches propped under her arms. Her hair was piled on top of her head, stray tendrils falling around her cheeks.

      Still pale, she wore the sky-blue sweatpants and jacket he and Heather had bought at the local clothing store and looked like a teddy bear that needed a hug.

      And a good meal. The velour hung on her slender frame.

      “Let me help you.” He pulled a chair from the table and stepped toward her.

      “I’ve been practicing in my room. Finally got the hang of it.” She hobbled forward, holding her left leg off the floor.

      He touched her shoulder, the velour soft in his hand. “I’ll take these.” He grabbed the crutches and eased her into the chair. Once she was seated, he propped her injured leg on a footstool.

      “How’s that?”

      She grimaced as he scooted her closer to the table. “If I ignore my left side, I’m in good shape.”

      “Would another ice bag help?”

      She rubbed her injured leg. “Probably not, Nolan. But thanks. Just give me a minute.”

      “I’ve got herbal tea brewing for Heather. How about a cup?”

      Kate glanced at the pot on the counter and nodded. “Sure, that sounds good.”

      He wiped his hands on his pants, suddenly at odds with what to do next.

      Think, Price. Pour the tea. Stir the sauce. Cook the spaghetti.

      Her eyes looked questioningly up at him. Big blue eyes edged with apprehension.

      It must be disconcerting to have her life put on hold. And in Mercy, Georgia, of all places. He could appreciate her concern.

      “Seems strange not to have Tina scurrying around the kitchen. South of the border was her specialty. Enchiladas, burritos, guacamole.” He noticed the moisture pooling in Kate’s eyes. “Look, I’ve upset you.”

      She shook her head and sniffed. “I’m fine, really.”

      He poured the tea and handed her a cup. “You and Tina were next-door neighbors in El Paso. If you don’t mind my asking, what brought you to Georgia?”

      “It was purely economics. I’m a chemist and needed a job. A spot opened at Bannister Scientific about six months ago. Luckily, I landed the position.”

      “Chemist, huh? Don’t know if you realized, but Lloyd seemed rather taken aback by your scientific expertise.”

      “I noticed he doesn’t like his authority questioned.”

      “Exactly.”

      “And your line of work?” she asked.

      “Basically, I help companies with their investment decisions. Mergers, consolidations, global expansion, that type of thing.”

      “You’re a financial analyst?”

      “That’s right.” Nolan stirred the pasta into the boiling water, thinking back to what he’d read about Bannister Scientific. “Wasn’t there something in the paper recently about that company of yours?”

      Kate nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The reporter did a bit of embellishing. Amazing how a quote can change after a little cut and paste.”

      “Now I remember. The article had to do with transplants. That’s not what you’re working on, is it?”

      “Matter of fact, it is.”

      The back of Nolan’s neck prickled. “What—what type of transplants are you researching?”

      “Pancreatic cells involved in insulin production. My grandfather was a diabetic, and—”

      Nolan exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “Let me guess. Because of him you went into research?”

      She tilted her head and smiled. “That’s right.”

      “Made your parents proud, no doubt.”

      Kate started to reply, then appeared to reconsider. She pulled the cup to her lips and took another sip.

      Had he said something wrong? “Look, I—”

      Water boiled over