49
Almost four weeks later
Noelle sat outside on her patio, the summer sunset creating a sky of lavender, pink, and orange.
The beauty was almost painful to see.
And so fleeting.
Behind her in the house, small wheels rolled across the kitchen floor. She’d heard the sound for the last two weeks: Emma’s rolling pole with her pouch of formula for her nasogastric tube and pump.
Emma’s hospital stay had lasted eleven days, two of them in the ICU.
Twice they’d operated to repair the damage to the floor of her mouth and tongue.
The surgeon was optimistic that she’d eventually speak normally and said the cheek should heal fine, but she might have a lopsided smile from nerve damage.
She’d lost three teeth, and four others had been broken.
Dental crowns and root canals would hopefully fix those, but the bone where the lost teeth had been was severely mangled.
There’d be several dental surgeries in her future to restore—hopefully—the bone and eventually place implants.
The oral surgeon had said there were a number of future options depending on how she healed.
If the angle of the bullet had been slightly different, she would have died.
If the bullet had been a larger caliber, she would have died.
If Drew had held the gun closer, she would have died.
Everyone raved at her good fortune.
I don’t think Emma sees it that way.
Noelle had blamed herself for not shooting Drew in time, and Max had done the same.
They’d both taken extended leave from work, and two excruciating days had passed before they came together and assured one another there’d been nothing either of them could have done.
But she knew he continued to carry guilt.
I do too.
Emma rolled her pole outside and took the lounger beside Noelle, her laptop under her arm, her jaw and cheek covered in bandages.
She couldn’t speak, and the laptop was the fastest way for her to type.
She couldn’t eat, so a tube had been placed through her nose that went down to her stomach.
A pump mounted on her pole fed formula through the tube three times a day.
She hated it. But it was the only way to get nutrition in her body while she healed.
The pump quietly whooshing behind her, Emma opened her laptop. Noelle had expected to have a conversation, but Emma was watching a reality show where the women always wore hair extensions, fake eyelashes, and too much lip filler.
Emma shouldn’t watch that.
But Noelle said nothing. Her therapist had said Emma was grieving and might do so for quite some time. The young woman had lost her sense of security, possibly lost her looks, and lost her mother for the second time.
Crystal hadn’t survived. She’d passed before the helicopter arrived.
But Mariota had called the helicopter for Crystal several minutes before Emma was shot, and those precious minutes were what had saved Emma’s life. If they’d waited to call until Emma had been shot, the doctors said she wouldn’t have survived. She would have lost too much blood.
Crystal had run off to kill Drew Mims and save Emma. She hadn’t personally achieved the first goal but, in death, had completed the second.
Noelle set aside her original disappointment in Crystal and respected the mother’s sacrifice.
On her fourth day in the hospital, Emma had asked about her mother, and Noelle had told her that Crystal had died while trying to kill Drew Mims. Noelle added that Crystal had asked her to tell Emma that she was sorry.
The young woman hadn’t responded. She’d simply looked straight ahead and typed nothing for the rest of the day.
Since then she’d asked Noelle a few simple questions about Crystal but saved her discussions for her therapist.
There was so much for Emma to process. Having her mother cruelly murdered without having exchanged a single word with her.
Waiting ten years to find out her mother had been alive all that time.
Wondering why Crystal had never contacted her daughter.
Wondering what her mother had suffered at the hands of Drew Mims. Feeling that she’d never been good enough to earn her mother’s love.
Emma’s physical and emotional burdens were devastating.
Even Noelle was overwhelmed.
The owner of Crystal’s stolen identity, Elise Nunevillier, had turned out to be the other set of skeletal remains. Elise’s mother had been crushed when it was confirmed, and Noelle hoped she’d found a support system back home.
UPS had said that Drew Mims was a valued employee, liked by his customers and his coworkers. His name had appeared on Evan’s list of delivery drivers who’d been seen on cameras throughout Sydney Beason’s neighborhood but had raised no red flags.
According to Emma, she’d gathered from Drew that there had been more “wives” than had been found in the burial ground.
Noelle assumed he’d killed them but buried them elsewhere; it might account for the empty years between the murders of the people whose remains they’d recovered.
No one was certain how each woman had eventually crossed paths with Drew.
It could have been in a bar, through his work, or most likely through simple bad luck.
The male remains found in the forest were still unidentified.
Noelle suspected they were those of someone who’d angered the man.
Gage Chambers had been in the grave Thor discovered near Emma’s old home.
Noelle couldn’t wrap her brain around the fact that he’d been murdered and then buried on his own property right under Emma’s nose while she lived there on her own.
Noelle had asked her for a DNA sample, gently explaining why she wanted it.
When the identification came back, again Emma showed no emotion at the news.
Emma’s therapist promised Noelle she’d help the young woman deal with all the losses. Even the loss of her despised father.
Another victim of the fallout was Ollie, his hopes shattered when Emma refused to see him in the hospital or at home. She’d messaged him that she needed space and that she might contact him in the future.
The might had crushed the young man. His knee was healing from surgery, but there’d been nothing to heal his heart. Truman told Noelle and Max that Ollie had fallen hard for Emma.
Noelle hoped that once Emma was healed and speaking, she’d want to renew their friendship.
As of right now, she didn’t want to see anyone—it wasn’t just Ollie.
She hated the bandages on her face and the tube up her nose.
The healing wounds were ugly, and Noelle had promised her she’d find the best plastic surgeons to fix them when the time came. Emma had shrugged one shoulder.
All that bottled-up grief.
And anger. Anger at her parents and Drew.
Noelle suspected some anger was directed at her and Max for not protecting Emma this time.
The young woman had gone through hell again after surviving the other kidnapping. And now had months or years of healing ahead with no guarantee that she’d look the same or sound the same when she spoke.
My money can’t buy everything.
But damn, she wished it could.
Max came out of the house with Cornbread trotting at his heels. The cat hopped up on Emma’s lap and sniffed at her tube. She turned his head away and distracted him with skritches under his chin.
“How is Belle?” Noelle asked Max as he stretched out on the lounger on her left. He’d met with Belle’s father and grandparents a few times since she’d been returned. Max had struggled with seeing the little girl safe and sound after her experience while Emma’s world had abruptly gone to pieces.
“More accepting that her mother isn’t coming back,” said Max.
“Trey and her grandparents have surrounded her with a lot of support. That little girl will never be lacking for love. Those few days they thought Belle was never coming back were pure hell for them, and they’ll never stop being thankful that she’s alive and with them. ”
“Belle’s very lucky to have those people in her life,” said Noelle. “They’re all lucky.”
A soft sniffling sounded to her right, and Noelle turned to look at Emma. Tears were streaming down her face, soaking into her bandages. Noelle didn’t think it was from her TV show.
Something she’d said had resonated with Emma.
Noelle exchanged a long look with Max, who stood and went to sit on the edge of Emma’s lounger. Noelle turned and sat up to face the young woman. “You okay, honey? Is it time for more pain meds?”
Emma shook her head.
“What is it?” asked Max.
She rapidly typed on her laptop.
“I’m so lucky to have the two of you in my life,” Noelle read out loud. “You’ve done nothing but love and support me, while I’ve been angry and bitter that my life might be ruined. I’ve hated and blamed everyone and everything.”
I wish I could take away her emotional pain, but this is part of the grieving process.
“Your life won’t be ruined,” said Max. “We won’t let it be.”
Emma’s nose twitched. This was how she now snorted in amusement. She kept typing.
“I’m not dead, but I came very close,” read Noelle, struggling to keep her voice steady as the image of Emma lying bleeding on the ground filled her mind. “It’s so horrible that I never stopped to think how you two might have felt if I hadn’t survived. Until just this minute.”
“We would have been devastated,” said Noelle, wiping her eyes. “You’re the daughter I never got around to having.”
I never knew I’d love being a parent.
Emma’s nose twitched again. “I love you two a lot,” she typed. “And I’m thankful I’m not dead. I’ve also got Cornbread and Harley and the Bridgertons, who all love and need me.”
“Or else they love that you feed them,” Max said with a grin. His eyes were wet too. “But we need you too,” he said. “I didn’t realize that Noelle would be a package deal when we started dating, but damn, it’s a darn good package with the two of you.”
Noelle blinked away tears as she looked at Max.
Damn, he’s a good man.
Emma shut her laptop and moved into his arms. He handled her so gently, avoiding her jaw and cheek, and had such a profound look of love on his face that Noelle nearly broke down. Instead, she joined them on Emma’s lounger and wrapped her arms around both.
My family.