Chapter Twelve #2
But in spite of getting through boot camp, Dave had a tough time making the transition from the coddled only son of an overbearing rancher to a marine. So like his buddies had done for him, Joe took Dave under his wing, doing his best to coach him and help when he could.
When he found out that Dave had been assigned to his battalion, he asked Red to pull a few strings, and they managed to get him transferred to the same squad, where Joe could look out for him.
But Dave had never been cut out to be a devil dog. Or a grunt. Chloe had been right when she’d said he was too sensitive.
Joe had always liked the guy, but he could become needy and emotional when things got tough.
In fact, Joe remembered wondering what a pretty girl like Chloe saw in Dave.
He’d figured money or property had interested her more.
And that might have been where his angry, suspicious vibes had originated.
Sure, Dave’s family owned a ranch, but if a woman who looked like Chloe had wanted to get her hands on some quick cash, she certainly could have set her sights a lot higher than Dave.
Joe’s stomach flopped and his face heated as he thought of the insults he’d flung at her.
Had he been so angry at Dave’s senseless death, the loss of his career and his promise to return to the one place on earth he’d vowed to never step foot in again that he’d lashed out at the only person he could find to blame?
It seemed that way.
As he recalled how his words had hurt her, his gut twisted hard and tight.
Chloe had taken him in when he was a complete stranger. She’d befriended the elderly patients in the nursing home. And, from what he’d gathered after listening to her side of a telephone conversation, she’d just sped off to become a voice for them.
How had he forgotten all she’d done? How she’d made it fun to trim the tree, decorate the house, eat scones and drink hot cocoa?
And then, when he’d been caught in the throes of a nightmare that had been more real than imagined, she’d sat on the bed, whispered soothing words, stroked his arm...
He’d fallen for her that night—for the woman she really was and not the woman he’d imagined her to be.
What a heartless fool he’d been.
Joe put his stuff back in his duffel and proceeded to empty out Dave’s bag on the guest room bed.
Uniforms and street clothes toppled out, as well as a few pieces of mail and a folder.
He recognized Chloe’s handwriting on one envelope.
Joe had seen that letter when he’d packed up Dave’s effects and set out on his Brighton Valley trip. But he hadn’t wanted to read it then.
He pulled out the folded stationery to see what she’d had to say.
Dear Dave,
I’m sorry that you’re far away from home and feeling so lonely. And while I appreciate your kind words, I have no idea where you got the idea that we were even dating, let alone engaged. You’re a good man, and I pray each night for your safe return home.
I’ve taken a break from nursing school so that I can look after the ranch until you get here. I’d promised your mother that I’d do that, and when I make a commitment to someone I care about, I keep it.
But that’s the only commitment I’ve made—to your mother.
Once you get home, I’ll move into a studio apartment near the junior college in Wexler.
I considered waiting to tell you these things to your face, but it seemed that with each letter you wrote, your dream of a future with me grew.
And I don’t want to give you false hope.
Someday you’ll find a woman who truly loves you—and one who deserves you and all you have to offer her.
I hope you understand. In the meantime, please take care of yourself.
Your friend, Chloe
She’d been right. Her letter had been direct, but gentle and kind. And Dave had made a reckless choice.
What had Joe done?
Chloe hadn’t wanted the ranch. Or anything from Dave—certainly not the guilt from his suicide, if that’s what he’d actually done. Yet, Joe had accused her of all of that and so much worse.
He needed to see her, talk to her and apologize. How could he have been such an ass?
Before he could shove Dave’s stuff back into the bag and head downstairs, Mallory knocked on the doorjamb and poked her head in. “There’s a call for you. It’s a Mr. McDougall.”
She handed him the cordless phone, and he took the call.
“Is this Joe Wilcox?” the man asked.
Joe wondered how he knew where to find him. “Yes, it is.”
“I’m the attorney handling David Cummings’s estate. I’m not sure if Chloe Dawson mentioned me or told you I would call, but she gave me your contact number.”
Chloe had said something about talking to an attorney. At the time, he’d thought that she’d been trying to stake her claim. But in reality, she’d probably been as overwhelmed with the situation as he’d been. And she’d merely wanted to hand over the reins to the ranch and get on with her life.
“She mentioned it,” Joe said, “but I don’t really know the details.”
The attorney spoke of the probate process and filing paperwork as Joe’s mind drifted to how he could apologize to Chloe for all of the horrible things he’d said.
What would he do if she refused to forgive him?
“So,” McDougall said, “as dual beneficiaries, you might want to consider working together to make a go of the ranch.”
“Excuse me?” Joe didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t been paying attention, but it was the truth. “I missed the last part.”
“I said, if the will you told Chloe about holds up, she’ll inherit the ranch.
It’s in debt, but it has a lot of potential, and I know that the Cummings family would have wanted Dave’s legacy to continue on.
So you might want to consider using a portion of the life insurance benefits you’re going to receive and offer her a loan so she can make a go of it. ”
“I’m sorry. Did you say benefits I would receive?”
“Yes, Mr. Wilcox. You’re the sole beneficiary of Dave Cummings’s five-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy.”
Joe almost collapsed on top of the stuff littering the bed. “But his death was... I mean, won’t you need a death certificate?”
“I’ve already checked into that. The coroner ruled it an accidental overdose, which is a real shame.” McDougall went on to explain that it would take some time to file everything properly and again suggested Joe work with Chloe to get the ranch back up and running.
“But does she even want the ranch?” Joe asked.
“Who’s to say? I don’t know many people who would take on that kind of responsibility even if it was forced on them. But Chloe Dawson is a sweet girl, and Teresa thought the world of her. It’ll be hard for her to keep it, though. You definitely got the better end of the deal.”
After the call ended, Joe’s mind reeled with everything the attorney had disclosed. He reached for the picture of him and Dave, a somewhat goofy-looking guy who’d never stood a chance with Chloe.
Yet just hours ago, Joe had stood a damn good chance with the most kindhearted and beautiful woman in the world, and he’d thrown it away.
But he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight. And he wasn’t going to waste another minute in preparing for battle.
After checking on Ethel at the Brighton Valley Medical Center and having a chat with Dr. Nielson, Chloe had pulled into the parking lot of the Sheltering Arms and braced herself for a confrontation with the administrator.
She was done hiding from arguments and was going to give him a piece of her mind.
So she marched right into Anthony J. Peabody’s office and demanded to speak to him.
The slightly balding man looked up from his desk, rolled back his chair and crossed his arms. “Is this about losing your job?”
“No, it’s about yours, Mr. Peabody—and Sarah Poston’s. I warned you about her unprofessional behavior and her disregard for most of the patients, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Instead, you got rid of me for being a squeaky wheel. But you won’t get rid of me so easily this time.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a promise. Ethel Furman is in the ICU right now, and it’s all Sarah’s fault.”
“That’s a pretty strong accusation. Ethel has pneumonia.”
“Yes, and she also had a severe allergic reaction to the penicillin they gave her in the E.R. I warned Sarah about Ethel’s allergy on several occasions and insisted that she order a new medical alert bracelet and that she note it in the chart.”
“What did she say?” Mr. Peabody asked.
“That the bracelet was on order. And that her allergy was already noted in her chart. But rather than double-check to make sure, she refused to do so.”
“Maybe someone in the E.R. didn’t look at the chart that accompanied her in the ambulance.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “I’m not sure what relationship you have with Sarah—familial or romantic—but you’d better stop trying to defend her without checking the facts.
I spoke to Dr. Betsy Nielson just a few minutes ago, and she told me her allergy to penicillin definitely wasn’t noted in the chart.
Then she showed me herself. Sarah is guilty of lying or negligence.
I suggest you figure out which one it is and deal with it—before Ethel’s attorney contacts you about a lawsuit. ”
Mr. Peabody blanched, then swallowed—hard. “Ms. Poston and I aren’t related in any way, shape or form. And I assure you that I’ll check into your allegation.”
“See that you do.” Then Chloe turned on her heel and strode out of the admin office.
Her steps didn’t slow until she reached the lobby and spotted Joe chatting with several of the elderly patients who’d gathered near the Christmas tree in their wheelchairs or seated with their canes and walkers nearby.
She had no idea what Joe was doing here, but he’d better duck for cover because she was feeling pretty cocky after her last confrontation. And she wasn’t the least bit concerned about having another blowup—even here in the lobby.