11. Tessa #2
Beal Memorial Park sat on a low rise, shaded by oaks on sunny days, welcoming guests under a wrought-iron arch. A single gravel road wound past the old graves and turned toward the newer section in the back.
Dusty drove in steady and fast, the big truck tires eating up gravel and mud. Tessa sat forward with her hand braced on the dash.
“Do you know where?” she asked as they drove as far as one could without parking or rumbling over the dead and buried.
“No, but look for a—”
“There!” Tessa screamed, spotting the small blue compact. “There’s her car! And there she is! Past that big tree! You see her?” She fumbled with the seatbelt, but Dusty reached his hand over.
“Me first,” he said. “I have to see her first.”
Dusty pulled up behind the car and gave Tessa his phone. “Call Lynda. Tell her exactly where we are. Pin the location for her.”
With that, he climbed out and headed into the pouring rain, still half a football field away from the tiny figure of a woman sitting on the ground.
Tessa’s fingers trembled as she hit the most recent call on his phone, and Lynda answered. Somehow, Tessa got the information out, and managed to set a pin, but then Morgan turned, and—
“Oh, my God, yes! She has Olive.”
“Keep her there!” Lynda commanded, and it was the last thing Tessa heard as she yanked the handle and flung herself out of the truck, sliding in some mud.
Morgan turned away before Tessa rushed closer, staying in the soaking wet grass next to a flat marker with one hand on it.
Her hair was plastered to her face, her shoulders shaking. She was wearing the jean jacket she’d had on the day she signed the temporary custody papers in Dusty’s office.
And Olive—sweet little Olive Oyl—was in her lap, in a pink raincoat, with her stuffed flamingo in a death grip. Poor Wingo. Poor Olive.
The child looked up at her mother’s face with the calm, puzzled attention of a small person trying to figure out why they were in this place, but not—not yet, at least—afraid of anything. That gave Tessa an overwhelming sense of relief.
Then Olive spotted her and her whole face lit up.
“Tess-Tess!”
Morgan’s head shot up. She looked at them across the wet grass. Her eyes were red. Her face blotchy. Her mouth opened, then closed.
Tessa slowed her step until she stopped, letting Dusty reach her first. He got about ten feet from Morgan and crouched down.
Morgan stared at him as Olive started to wriggle and reached out to him. “Dusting!”
Tessa bit back a whimper as she took a few steps closer to hear their conversation.
“You okay?” he asked calmly.
She shook her head. Then she gave a small, wet laugh that was actually a sob. “No. I…I can’t do this, Dusty.” She turned to the gravestone. “I just want to be with him. With all of them.”
Tessa’s heart collapsed at the words. Dusty, true to his therapist’s oath, had never said if Morgan had those thoughts…but there had to be a powerful reason to keep her in rehab.
“Can I do that?” she asked, clutching Olive, who was now locked on Tessa and squirming to get free.
“Not today,” Dusty replied. “Not out here in a hurricane. Not with Olive.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, squeezing Olive so tight Tessa’s own ribcage hurt. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s the storm. I know I scared you. I just…” Morgan looked down at the child on her lap.
Olive had now noticed her mother was crying, so she stroked Morgan’s arm like their roles had reversed.
“I wanted her to know where her daddy was. Once more. Before. I want her to know him.”
Olive looked over Morgan’s shoulder and reached out her baby-sized hand, kicking to get to Tessa, as if her little brain finally realized the danger she was in. “Tess-Tess!”
Unable to stop herself, Tessa came to stand next to Dusty, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep from either crumbling to the ground or rushing to grab and save Olive.
Dusty held still under her hand, his gaze on his patient.
“Morgan. We’re going to get you back to campus. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be safe and so is Olive. You and I will talk as soon as this hurricane has passed. Okay?”
She stared at him, a gust of wind nearly blowing her over and sending a broken branch bouncing over the cemetery plots.
“We need to get in the truck, Morgan. The bridge is closing. The hurricane is coming.”
Tessa leaned closer to whisper, “Lynda said to stay here.”
“In the truck,” Dusty repeated with authority, which may have been directed to Tessa or Morgan, but it didn’t matter.
“Mama!” Olive whined. “Tess-Tess!”
Morgan slid Tessa a look, clutching the child. For one long, windy moment, the two of them locked gazes over Olive’s head. A challenge in Morgan’s eyes and, Tessa hoped, a promise in her own.
But what if Morgan didn’t know that?
Clutching Dusty’s shoulder, Tessa leaned in. “I’ll take care of her,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “I will not let anything happen to her.”
Morgan’s face collapsed with another sob and she released her grip. Instantly, Olive shot out of her lap, running so fast, she dropped Wingo.
“Tess-Tess!”
Tessa held her against her chest and the small, wet warmth of her, the smell of baby shampoo and rain wrenched her heart. Scooping her up, Tessa rushed back to the truck, grasping her little girl with every ounce of strength she had.
She scrambled into the front seat with her, smothered her wet curls with kisses.
Outside, she could see Dusty helping Morgan stand up.
In the way he moved, she sensed he was doing in real time the work he had been doing privately for a long time—keeping a young widow alive long enough for her to choose her own future.
A police cruiser pulled into the gate and rolled down the road to where they were, stopping next to the truck. One officer got out and hustled toward Dusty and Morgan.
Another, a woman draped in a black poncho, came to Tessa’s door and flicked her fingers for her to open the window.
“Are you Tessa Mathers?” the officer asked.
For a second, Tessa blanked at the married name she wasn’t used to. “Yes, uh, I am. And this—”
“Is Olive Leighton. We’re in touch with child services and we have instructions.”
Instructions to take her? Tessa swayed under the onslaught of rain and fear, clutching Olive tighter. “What are they?”
“She stays with you, but you better have a car seat.”
“Oh!” Tessa nearly collapsed with relief. “Yes, yes, right in the back. She’s always in it. I was just—”
“Let’s go!” Dusty called, jogging toward the truck. “Thank you, Officer.”
The other cop walked closer, guiding Morgan gently. “We’re taking care of Mrs. Leighton and will get her to the facility expecting her right now,” he told Tessa. “Follow us.”
“You?” Tessa asked. “Do we have to go there, too?”
Under the hood of the black poncho, the other woman smiled. “Mid-Bay Bridge is closed, ma’am. You’ll need an escort to get over it. You keep that child safe, you hear?”
“With my life,” Tessa promised.
Soaking wet, she climbed out as Dusty opened the back door, the two of them getting Olive latched into the car seat.
Back in her seat, Tessa tried to catch her breath when he got behind the wheel, both of them dripping.
“What happened out there? How did you…”
Her voice trailed off as she followed his gaze, locking on something in the cemetery grass.
He turned and glanced at Olive. “Hang on, honey,” he whispered.
With that, he jumped out of the truck and ran full speed, scooped up Wingo, shook off the drenched flamingo, and vaulted back to the truck, slamming the door behind him.
With a smile, he turned to Olive and handed her the soaked stuffed animal. “Here you go, Double O.”
Tessa smiled at the nickname she’d hung on “Olive Oyl” but not as big or bright as the rain-washed child in the back seat. She took the animal and squeezed it to her chest.
“Wingo,” she murmured. “Daddy saved you.”
Tessa’s jaw dropped. Dusty sucked in a breath.
Daddy, not Dusty or Dusting or the man or anything. Just…Daddy.
“Worth it,” Dusty whispered in a delighted voice.
Tessa just reached over and put her hand over his. “I love you,” she sighed, utterly satisfied in the knowledge that she’d chosen a perfect father, partner, and husband.
And fourteen minutes later, with a police escort in front of them and Norman bearing down, they were the last car to cross one extremely shaky and windblown Mid-Bay Bridge, headed for family and safety.
Tessa leaned back and watched the whitecaps and dark clouds and the beaches of Destin disappear in the sideview mirror.
She had no idea what she might come home to, but for now, she was with the two people who mattered most to her.