LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

the logo of a regional medical clinic was rolling up to the curb. A few seconds later, a stocky man vaulted from the driver’s seat. The back door slid open and a hydraulic ramp made a slow descent toward the sidewalk. The interior of the van was empty, and the driver looked around.

      That’s when Maddie realized the van wasn’t there to drop someone off. It was there to pick someone up.

      And she was pretty sure she knew who that someone was. Maddie glanced at the reading nook again. Three members of the historical society had commandeered the table closest to Aiden so they could chat before their meeting started, and two of Maddie’s “regulars” stood by the coffeepot, absorbed in conversation.

      Aiden continued to stare at the magazine, completely unaware the driver of the medical van was waiting outside. Considering the way he’d reacted when Maddie tried to help him before, she couldn’t imagine he would want an audience—or assistance—getting into the van.

      Maddie saw the driver look at his watch and figured she had about sixty seconds before he came in.

      Without considering all the possible ramifications of her actions—and Maddie always considered the possible ramifications of her actions—she walked over to the members of the historical society and eased into their conversation with a smile.

      “Good morning, ladies!” She was careful not to look at Aiden. “I reserved the media room until eleven o’clock so you won’t have to share the computers with anyone this morning.”

      Janette Morrison, the society’s secretary, patted Maddie on the shoulder. “Thank you again for helping me, Maddie. I couldn’t have found Adelle without your detective work.”

      “You’re welcome.” Maddie tried not to smile.

      While helping the woman trace her family genealogy, Maddie had discovered a little-known connection to the mysterious Adelle Lewis, the daughter of the wealthy lumber baron who’d founded Castle Falls.

      Adelle’s name had abruptly disappeared from the society pages and everyone assumed she’d died, but Maddie had traced the young woman’s life through a series of old journals and found out that Adelle’s parents had disowned her after she’d married a young circuit preacher against their wishes.

      Now the historical society viewed Maddie as a sort of twenty-first-century Nancy Drew, able to track down clues in cyberspace, link by link.

      “I do have a question about how to use the microfilm scanner,” Janette said. “If you can spare a few minutes.”

      “Of course. I’ll grab a cup of coffee and meet you there in a few minutes,” Maddie promised, not mentioning the coffee wasn’t for her.

      Janette looked relieved as the rest of the committee members scooped up their belongings and filed toward the computer room in the back of the library.

      “It’s pretty chilly out there this morning,” Maddie mused out loud. “I thought the med van driver might appreciate a cup of coffee.” She filled a disposable cup and turned toward the door.

      She could practically feel Aiden’s eyes follow her. But would he?

      The driver waved at Maddie, and she hoped he was a flavored-coffee kind of guy. A group of men who met at the library once a month to play chess claimed that it smelled like potpourri and wouldn’t touch the stuff.

      “Good morning!” Maddie raised the steaming cup. “We’ve got curbside delivery today. Pumpkin spice.”

      “Mmm.” The skeptical look on the driver’s face belied the teasing sparkle in his eyes. “Does it pair well with a jelly doughnut?”

      “In my experience, everything goes with jelly doughnuts.” Maddie grinned and handed him the coffee.

      She heard the soft click of the door and dared a glance over her shoulder. Aiden had bypassed the handicap-accessible ramp—no surprise there—and was making his way slowly down the concrete steps.

      One. Two. Three.

      Maddie silently cheered Aiden on until he reached the sidewalk. And lurched past her without a word. Again.

      The driver tossed back a swallow of coffee and looked Aiden over. “PT?”

      “Yup.” Aiden bared his teeth in a smile. “That’s me.”

      Maddie turned away, knowing it was the driver’s job to assist his passenger even if said passenger didn’t want—or appreciate—the assistance.

      But at least she’d made sure that Aiden no longer had an audience.

      “Thanks, Pixie.”

      It took a moment for Maddie to realize Aiden was talking to her. But he had to be, considering the only other person within earshot happened to be the burly guy climbing into the driver’s seat of the van.

      But...Pixie? Seriously? He’d already forgotten her name?

      “It’s Maddie—”

      Aiden’s smile—this time a genuine, no-holds-barred, steal-the-breath-from-a-girl’s-lungs smile—was the last thing Maddie saw before the door slid shut.

      Making her wonder if he’d forgotten at all.

      * * *

      Aiden’s hand tightened on the handle of the crutch as he stared out the window of the sunroom.

      Autumn was his favorite time of year. Crimson trees lined both sides of the bank like torches, the sapphire-blue river the base of the flames. For Aiden, it was like paddling through a fiery corridor. Even on sunny days, the breeze carried a bite that stirred his senses. Made him feel alive.

      Rich Mason, Sunni’s husband and Aiden’s foster dad, had teased Aiden about having river water flowing through his veins instead of blood. But for a ten-year-old boy who’d grown up surrounded by concrete, the river had proved more fascinating than a playground.

      On the water, Aiden could move at his own pace. There was no one telling him to take it easy, slow down or—his least favorite of the three—stop.

      And now, sixteen years later, over the course of a day, he’d heard every single one.

      Aiden’s simmering frustration had turned into a rolling boil when he got home from therapy and saw the envelope on the coffee table. A few days after he’d been released from the hospital, Aiden had called the sheriff’s department and requested a copy of the deputy’s report from the night he’d been injured.

      Aiden had practically ripped the document in his haste to open it. He skimmed through it, hoping to see something—anything—that would support his claim that another vehicle had been involved.

      No skid marks, the officer had noted on the bottom.

      Aiden had wanted to throw back his head and howl. There weren’t any skid marks because the vehicle in the oncoming lane hadn’t braked. And Aiden hadn’t had time to, either. If he’d been a minute earlier or a minute later, things would have turned out differently.

      Why hadn’t God intervened on Aiden’s behalf?

      That question had continued to plague him since the night of the accident, slowly chiseling away at the foundation of what he’d thought was an unshakeable faith with the cold, relentless pull of an undertow.

      Aiden tried to shore it up by reciting scripture he’d memorized and pulling up the lyrics from praise songs, but over the past few days, the doubts had slowly claimed more territory.

      But his family worried enough about his injuries. Aiden wasn’t about to admit his trust in God had sustained damage in the accident, too.

      The door swung open and Aiden pressed out a smile for his brothers as they strode into the room.

      “Missing something?” Brendan held up Aiden’s cell phone. “I found this on the bench in the laundry room.”

      That’s because Aiden had left

Скачать книгу