Scared to Death. Debby Giusti

had promised one another so long ago.

      The doctor reached for the bottle of pills he’d placed on the side table, shook one into his palm and held it out. “You’ve been through a lot, Kate. Take this caplet.”

      She didn’t want the pill.

      “Come on, now,” he insisted. “I can tell you’re upset. You need to rest.”

      She looked from the doctor to Nolan warming himself in front of the fire, his expression impossible to read.

      A shiver rolled down Kate’s spine as she recalled his daughter’s words the night before.

      Wife dead.

      Tina dead.

      The common denominator was Nolan.

      What had Kate stumbled into?

      She grabbed the glass of juice off the table and threw the pill into her mouth.

      The doctor turned to shake Nolan’s hand. “Keep me posted on the arrangements.”

      “Will do. Appreciate your help, Doc.”

      Without a backward glance at Kate, the two men walked toward the door.

      As soon as they left the room, Kate spit the pill into her hand. She didn’t need medication to sleep. She needed to keep her eyes wide open. Tina’s death didn’t add up.

      If not latex, then what had killed Tina?

      FOUR

      Nolan said goodbye to Lloyd, then climbed the stairs to the second floor and stopped outside Heather’s bedroom.

      “Honey?”

      He knocked twice, grabbed the knob and twisted.

      Locked.

      “Can I bring you something, Heather? A cup of tea? Maybe a sandwich?”

      “I’m not hungry,” she said, her voice muffled by the closed door.

      “The electricity will come on soon, but it’s cold up here. You don’t want to get sick.”

      “I’m wearing my jacket.”

      He pictured her sitting on the canopy bed, bundled in her peacoat and stocking hat, red-eyed and totally confused. Part child, part woman, she waged war with her emotions, trying to stay in control.

      Just as she had when Olivia had died.

      “I’ll make spaghetti for dinner.” Heather’s favorite. Hunger might coax her from her seclusion. “Why don’t you come down soon?”

      No answer.

      “You need to eat.”

      “Not now, Dad.” Her voice cracked.

      The sound slammed against his heart. His baby was too young to carry her cross alone. If only she’d let him into her pain.

      Lord, let me be her Simon of Cyrene.

      “See you soon, okay?” He listened for a minute, then turned and walked, heavy-hearted, down the stairs.

      The door to the great room hung open. Leather chair empty. Crutches gone.

      He knocked on the guest room door. “Miss Murphy…Kate, you need anything?”

      A muffled “No, thank you,” reached his ears.

      Two females in the house, both hiding behind closed doors. Could give a guy a complex.

      “You’ll find some ladies’ clothing in the closet.” He cleared his throat. “A family lost their home in a flood, so Heather and I bought clothes for them. Seems to me, the mother’s about your size.”

      “I couldn’t impose—”

      “Nonsense. We can buy more next week.” He let out a frustrated breath. Hard to carry on a conversation through an inch and a half of hardwood. “The great room’s warm thanks to the fireplace. I could make a spot for you on the couch.”

      “That’s not necessary.”

      “You’ll find a quilt in one of the drawers.”

      “Thank you, Nolan.”

      If the woman wanted to hole up in a chilly bedroom rather than enjoy the comfort of the great room, so be it. “Let me know if you need anything.”

      The bedsprings creaked.

      “We’ll eat dinner about five. In the kitchen. The oven puts out a good amount of heat. That is, if you can sit at the table comfortably.”

      “Thanks. I doubt I’ll be hungry.”

      “Makes me think you’re worried about my cooking.” He forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m not a gourmet, but…well…”

      Suddenly, he was a comedian?

      No need to embarrass himself further. “See you later.”

      “Wait.” The door opened. Crutch in hand, Kate scooted forward, propped her shoulder against the wooden doorjamb and let out a ragged breath. Her hair framed her face, cheeks flushed from exertion, brow wrinkled.

      “Sorry it took me so long to get to the door.” She glanced down at her injured leg. “I’m slow as a tortoise with this injury.”

      “I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

      “You didn’t. Dinner at five sounds fine. Although after that huge breakfast, I should probably skip a meal or two.” She looked up. “You’ve been very kind.”

      “All you’ve been through, the least Heather and I could do was offer you a place to stay. Plus, we have plenty of room.”

      Kate glanced down the hallway. “And a beautiful home.”

      He noticed a small puddle of water by the front door, which he pointed out to Kate. “Lloyd must have had ice on his shoes. Tina would have given the doc a piece of her mind for tracking up her hardwoods.”

      A spark of amusement flickered in Kate’s eyes. “Sounds like something she’d do.”

      “So Tina was a neat freak even as a kid?”

      “And put me to shame,” Kate said with a laugh. “My idea of clean was to shove everything under my bed and hope no one noticed.” She looked at the picture hanging on the wall.

      Nolan followed her gaze. Heather had taken the photo a couple weeks after they’d arrived in Mercy while Nolan and Tina had sat at the kitchen table.

      “Looks like you two were having fun,” Kate finally said.

      “Heather wanted to try out her new camera. That little skunk made faces at us until we were both howling with laughter.”

      One of the first lighthearted moments he and Heather had shared after Olivia’s death. He had hung the photo to remind them life went on even after the loss of a loved one.

      “Where’d you happen to meet Tina?” Kate asked.

      “In California. When Olivia got sick, I needed someone to help with her care. Tina was looking for a new job.” He shrugged. “Win-win, all the way around.”

      “I’m sorry about your wife.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Was it cancer?”

      “Olivia died of an infection. She’d had surgery. I thought she was doing better, but…” He sighed, a heavy weight on his chest.

      Suddenly, he was tired of talking. “You look like you need some rest. Probably that medicine Lloyd gave you. He’s quick to push pills.”

      “So I noticed. A nap sounds good. See you about five?”

      “I’ll keep the fire roaring. Come out earlier, if you get cold.”

      She