Chapter Eleven
THAT EVENING, DIANA was still shaken up as Laredo manned the grill on the spacious wooden deck. Apparently, it might be too dangerous to be standing there out in the open, so she was tucked safely inside the family ranch home. But she couldn’t complain about the view beyond the back sliding glass door. And she didn’t just mean the beautiful foliage surrounding the deck.
“How are you holding up?” The female voice, no matter how soft, in the kitchen behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Laredo’s mother stepped back.
Diana dragged a hand over her eyes and shrugged. “I’m just jumpy.” She caught a shaky breath. “Sorry.”
An understanding half smile lifted Mrs. Lawrence’s lips. “And no wonder. You’ve been through a lot.” She gestured to the stools at the kitchen bar. “Would you like a cup of coffee with me? I also have a freshly baked apple pie. I happen to think pie can make a lot of things better.” She paused. “Though not all.”
No, not all. And Diana happened to know another substance that could make things better or at least dull the sharp pain like water could dull a sharp stone. At a high price, though, and her grandparents had learned it the difficult way. Even with that knowledge— and knowing her family history made her even more susceptible to the damage alcohol would cause—her throat burned with a desperate craving.
Ironically, she wasn’t the only one who liked her much more when she was tipsy. People other than her parents usually liked her much better when she was tipsy, too. She was bubbly then, cheerful, carefree, all the things her friend did so effortlessly sober. And Diana was desperate to appeal to Laredo, to be what her usual shy, awkward, and let’s face it, not conventionally attractive self had no clue how to accomplish.
Would Laredo be one of those people who liked her slightly alcohol-infused personality, then judged her later when he knew about her addiction? Her heart constricted into a painful lump.
Well, she had much more urgent issues to worry about—including getting her friend back and not getting Laredo and herself killed in the process.
As reluctant as she was to tear her gaze from the spectacular view she shouldn’t be admiring, his mother’s kindness was unexpected but beyond welcome.
Oh. Diana was woolgathering again and didn’t reply to the woman’s kind offer.
“Thank you.” She nodded. “I’d love to. Only, I’d prefer a hot cup of tea if that’s okay.”
“That’s more than okay. Thank you for buying the assortment of teas.”
Something needled the edges of Diana’s mind again. Something she should’ve known. Something she should’ve realized. But just like she didn’t have great looks, she didn’t have her parents’ brilliant minds. The troubling thought dissolved into thin air like honey would dissolve in the cup of tea she now brewed.
She brought the white porcelain cup and matching pie platter—both dotted with black splotches like Holsteins—to the kitchen bar and sat overlooking the back patio. “I don’t know why someone would try to run me off the road. I don’t have a significant inheritance. No vengeful exes in my past. I’ve never done top-secret medical research. In short, I’m no one important.”
Mrs. Lawrence carried over a cow-shaped ceramic container with the sweetener, then climbed onto a tall barstool beside her, the white hoop-back appearing freshly repainted. She placed a slice of delectable pie, oozing with apple cinnamon goodness, on Diana’s plate, squarely covering the black-and-white cow stamped on the plate’s center. Then she moved her chair closer to Diana. “You’re very important. To God. To your patients. To your family. To your friends. To us.”
After mulling over those sweet words and a bite of almost-as-sweet apple pie, Diana sipped hot chamomile-flavored liquid. Why was she important to the Lawrences? They barely knew her. As for her own family, she was a disappointment to them. She hid a grimace by taking another sip of the supposedly calming tea. Something she desperately needed after nearly being run off the road.
“Sorry for putting your son in danger.” Just thinking about him brought a pleasant feeling to her insides, but then guilt poked into her ribs. “Laredo seems to be getting better. Maybe... maybe it’s better for me to leave the ranch so nothing happens to him.”
The idea of leaving Laredo made her stomach clench. He’d already gotten under her skin.
She studied the woman beside her in turn. She’d understand if Mrs. Lawrence had disliked her, had thrown a cup of tea at Diana instead of inviting her to drink it. It would’ve been much more familiar.
After all, Adam’s mother’s rage and hurtful words still cut through Diana. They’d been spoken out of overwhelming mother’s love, and Diana hadn’t tried to defend herself. Her mother-in-law blamed her for Adam’s death.
So had Diana. How had she missed the signs?
It hadn’t been easy, but eventually, she’d learned to defend herself against cruelty, even if that defense was numbing herself with alcohol. She was defenseless against kindness now. She winced at the memory of hatred in her mother-in-law’s eyes, at the desperate puddle of tears and wine on the floor Diana had become so often after Adam’s death. Her father-in-law had often defended her to his wife, but after Adam’s death, the man’s hair had become completely white and his posture stooped. As he seemingly aged twenty years overnight, his defenses of Diana also weakened.
She flinched again, and the hot liquid sloshed in the cup, nearly burning her fingers. She thudded the cup to the marble-topped counter before she could splash more. She’d rather die herself than see something happen to Laredo. And she went cold just thinking that the same hatred toward her could move into Mrs. Lawrence’s eyes.
Mrs. Lawrence waved her hand. “Nonsense. I raised all my sons to protect those in need, though admittedly one of them is much more eager to do it than others.”
The warmth in the woman’s eyes stayed and warmed Diana more than the hot liquid in the cup she picked up again with the same caution as she picked up her courage to stay, at least for now.
Heat rose inside her. “I... I don’t know about that.”
Mrs. Lawrence laughed, then drank some of her coffee, sending a whiff of coffee brew Diana’s way. “I do. For a long time, I prayed Laredo would meet a woman who could make him happy and whom he’d make happy in return. I believe my prayers have been answered.”
Diana’s prayers weren’t. She’d started praying again, influenced by the Lawrence family, but her friend was still missing. Diana still had an overwhelming, unbearable desire to drown her sorrows in wine. And she’d brought danger to people she’d started to care about deeply and who—unlike many other people in her life—had seemed to care back about her, which was already a Christmas miracle.
And if Mrs. Lawrence knew about her secret, she’d find out fast just how far Diana was from being anyone’s answer to prayers.
Diana cut through the flaky crust and forked a gooey bite of the sweet pie. But as sweet as it was, it couldn’t make the bitter thoughts disappear. “Laredo already paid for protecting me with an injured shoulder. And we could’ve died today if the truck wasn’t so sturdy and he hadn’t started shooting back.”
She’d managed to keep the vehicle on the road—another Christmas miracle?—and his firing back seemed to have scared away their pursuer. If she’d been alone in her small rental sedan, most likely, she wouldn’t be alive now.
Her throat closed up, and an ocean of tea wouldn’t open it. “Your son saved my life. Again.”
Mrs. Lawrence scooped up her slice. “From what I heard, you held well on your own. As for his shoulder, he’ll heal. Nobody can go through life unharmed. But God gave us the ability to heal, and He puts people in our paths to help us do so.”
Were Laredo and his family such people in her path? Or would this only result in more heartache? Diana’s fingers tightened around the fork, and she shoved more of the flaky crust and caramelly apples into her mouth.
Mrs. Lawrence was the opposite of her mother-in-law, and Diana squelched envy toward Marina and Saylor who had won the MIL lottery. Mrs. Lawrence wasn’t the opposite of her mother, who hadn’t treated Diana badly. Her mom was mostly just... not there. But Mrs. Lawrence was more like Diana’s grandmother, whom Diana missed dearly.
“One thing I do ask is please don’t break my son’s heart.” Mrs. Lawrence’s eyes studied her over the coffee mug.
Diana swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “I don’t intend to.”
Mrs. Lawrence smiled sadly. “Nobody does. Well, it was an unfair request anyway.” She exhaled, and her fingers tightened around the mug. “You’ll always find a home here. But I understand, you don’t intend to stay, right?”
“It’s not about that, though I do live far away.” In comparison, Pat had once considered moving to Bolivia for a guy. That thought had lasted a whole two days. “You... don’t know everything about me. I mean, it’s nothing illegal, but...” Diana stumbled, then drew invisible circles on the marble with her finger, afraid to look up at Mrs. Lawrence. Terrified to see the disappointment in her eyes, she smudged another barely visible circle.
Hmm. That was what her life had seemed to be after losing Adam. Moving in circles.
Until meeting Laredo.
“Does Laredo know?” Mrs. Lawrence’s voice dipped. Was she disappointed already? Did she, like Adam’s mother, think Diana was unfit for her son, unfit to be her daughter-in-law?
Uh-oh. Diana’s eyes widened. She and Laredo hadn’t even dated, and she’d never thought about getting married again. Yet, here she was having this ridiculous idea.
“No.” She shook her head both in response to her thoughts and Mrs. Lawrence’s question.
“Throughout the years, I’ve come to realize secrets never result in anything good.” Then Mrs. Lawrence’s voice strained. “Except for... Never mind.”
What was that about? Diana looked up. But despite her stirred curiosity, she didn’t ask anything. Just like she was entitled to her secrets, Mrs. Lawrence was entitled to hers. Diana only brought the cup to her lips and drained it of chamomile tea. Staring at the empty bottom of a porcelain teacup had never brought shame, unlike staring at the empty bottom of a wine bottle.
Mrs. Lawrence sighed. “My late husband presumably killed himself. But... I suspected somebody, um, might’ve helped him. I voiced my suspicions to the police, but they dismissed them. Over the years, I persuaded myself it might be best not to know.”
“I’m very sorry that happened to you. My condolences.” Was that even the right thing to say?
“Thank you.”
The woman’s honesty floored Diana, but she couldn’t respond with the same honesty. She didn’t want the Lawrences’ caring attitude to disappear like the chamomile scent once they knew what a mess she truly was. Especially Laredo’s kindness.
No. No. No.
She’d have to keep her secret to herself. Then maybe she could squirrel away some precious moments of his attention, the fleeting sensations of his touch, and treasure those memories later.
Memories... What was it she should’ve remembered? Something was supposed to help her find Pat. Why couldn’t she remember? She didn’t have amnesia. But the more she strained her brain, the further away from discovery she seemed to be. She cringed as she finished the yummy slice of pie. She wasn’t just a failure as a daughter and a wife and a daughter-in-law. She was also a failure as a friend.
Pay attention to the good things, not the bad ones.
How many times had Pat told her that?
She hadn’t sought Mrs. Lawrence’s approval after her disastrous experiences, hadn’t even hoped for it, but had wanted it badly. Not only because of Laredo, though there was that, but also because the woman had slipped easily into a motherly figure, a place never fully occupied in Diana’s life, at least not in an emotional sense. Mrs. Lawrence’s words and even simple attention were a surprise Christmas gift.
Besides, Mrs. Lawrence had gone through so much, from the little Laredo had related to her, including surviving an abusive husband, raising a large family, and handling the ranch practically on her own. And she’d done it with grace and without alcohol. Something Diana had difficulty comprehending.
“Thank you so much for the tea, pie, and conversation. It was awesome.” Sad that all three seemed to be over, Diana scooped up the crumbs.
Mrs. Lawrence’s lips lifted. “Which one?”
A chuckle escaped, which Diana didn’t expect. “All of it.”
“My pleasure. Truly. And I hope, one day, I’ll be able to say welcome to the family in more senses than one.”
Diana wished for that, too, far more than she was ready to admit. Longing stirred her, even more overwhelming than the longing for alcohol. But even if she started believing in Christmas miracles, it was too much to ask.
If people couldn’t love her when she was at her best, making all the effort to be what they wanted her to be but never even coming close, how could she expect them to love her now when she’d become a shell of her former self?
Even Adam seemed to have fallen out of love with her a year after marrying her, no matter how hard she’d tried to make him happy. She could see it better now when she didn’t look at him and her memories of him through rose-colored glasses—or a glass of rosé.
The front doorbell chimed, sending another ping of regret through her. There were visitors. The conversation was truly over now. She rose to her feet. This wasn’t her house, and this wasn’t her mother or mother-in-law. And the man beyond the sliding glass door wasn’t her man and never would be.
At this point, the only thing that would be always there for her if she needed it was a bottle of wine. But that was a slippery slope to take.
Loud voices reverberated down the hall, and Diana recoiled into herself. Except with her patients when she’d felt needed and admired or with her best friend or now with Laredo, she felt awkward around people.
Then she recognized the voices, and the tight band around her lungs loosened.
Marina and Saylor filed in, the latter a vision to be seen. The Christmas tree on her red sweater blended into her green skirt as if the tree became a 3D image while leggings printed with glittery ornaments shimmered above her crimson-red cowboy boots. Diana had to blink several times to make sure what she was seeing was real.
“Diana! I’m so glad to see you!” Saylor pranced over and put a covered potato salad bowl on the dining room table. Did she jingle? While Diana was still trying to figure that out, Saylor swooped in to hug Diana like it was a natural thing for her to do, which it probably was. Saylor seemed like a hugger. “I mean, I knew you might be here, so it’s not a shocker you’re actually here. But I’m still super glad to see you and that you’re doing well. And that you’re alive. And that Laredo is alive, too. Being hit by a vehicle must’ve been terrifying.”
“Yeah, being alive is important.” Marina snorted as she placed a heaping garden salad bowl on the gigantic dining table. Snorting probably wasn’t characteristic to her.
The gigantic—did Diana say gigantic?—dining table must’ve been needed for a large family and even more so now with the sons adding an influx of wives and even an influx of children—one already born and another one on the way. The sturdy oak table, scratched in places and worn in others, was well-loved and well-used. The elegant carved cherrywood dining table and matching chairs she grew up with were gorgeous but rarely used. She couldn’t remember one family dinner, except when other doctors had come for dinner on Sunday once in a blue moon.
She winced. Something needled her. Something—or someone—she should’ve remembered from those Sunday dinners.
“I’m glad to see you, too.” She meant it as she returned the hug before Saylor released her. How pleasant to have Saylor be such a chatterbox, sort of like Pat. With either one, Diana never had to come up with conversation but could just stand there and nod from time to time.
While Saylor’s hair fluffed over her shoulders, Marina had pinned her light-blonde hair at her nape. While Marina’s no-nonsense loafers scuffed against the hardwood flooring, Saylor’s crimson cowboy boots clomped and, yes, chimed! Aha, that’s where the sound came from. Tiny cowbells on them chimed every time she moved, and she moved a lot. Diana cupped a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. As talkative as Saylor was, she surely didn’t need additional help to announce her presence.
And while Saylor smiled from ear to ear, Marina maintained a much more serious expression. “I checked my connections at the local police. Sadly, they don’t have any suspects of who might’ve been behind the wheel of that vehicle.”
Diana grimaced. “It would’ve been helpful if I remembered the vehicle’s license plate number.”
Then her gaze landed on Marina’s white jacket, thrown over a navy-blue turtleneck. It looked like... like a doctor’s white coat maybe? Things cleared in her head. Now she realized why the birthmark looked vaguely familiar. Why distinguished doctors at rare Sunday dinners tugged at her memories. While they were dressed in suits, they somehow associated with her father’s profession and his impeccably white coat.
Saylor stepped closer to Diana. “Are you okay? You paled. It’s almost like you saw a ghost. Well, maybe not exactly a ghost. But like you’ve been seeing something traumatic.”
“I was. Looking somewhere in the past, I mean.” Diana dragged a hand over her face again as if she could clear the remaining cobwebs in her head. “I might know who the guy was that came to the shops and the pharmacy with Pat. His name is Dr. Noah Jamieson, and he works as a doctor at a hospital in Dallas. I mean, I haven’t exactly met Noah, and that’s why I didn’t recognize him. But I might’ve met his father when I was growing up. During dinners at our house, the senior Dr. Jamieson often bragged that his son, Noah, followed in his footsteps. They have vaguely similar facial features and the same birthmark above their left eyebrow.”
Marina patted Diana on the back, the most affection she’d shown yet. “Great job. We’ll have a name now, and I’ll start working on it right away.”
Saylor winked at her much stricter sister. “While the rest of us finish cooking dinner, right? Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to get out of the kitchen?”
Marina rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Most of you wouldn’t dare try my cooking anyway. Even though I’m improving. A lot.”
Saylor spread her arms in that festive red sweater. “That’s because we kinda like to stay alive.” Then she sobered up as she looked at Diana. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Honest.” She turned to Marina. “Go find the guy, sis. We need to bring Diana’s friend home.”
Diana stepped forward. “I’ll be happy to help cook.” With her heart lighter now that they could possibly find the one person who might know about Pat’s whereabouts, she even attempted a joke. “And if it helps, I assure you nobody died or got sick as a result of my cooking. Though as a nurse, I know what to do in case of food poisoning.”
With all her heart, she hoped this was the progress she’d so desperately needed.