Delores Fossen - New Year Heroes - The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7

Lucas had never been a lonely man, but he had a feeling when he returned to his big house with only Marquette as company, he would be lonely. Talking to Mariah, watching her graceful movements and listening to the sound of her voice had become a pleasant habit, one he knew would be hard to break.

When the coffee was finished, she brought it to the table. She wrapped her slender fingers around her mug and eyed him curiously. “Don’t you want children?”

He started to give a quick reply, but instead took a sip of coffee and thought about the question. “I haven’t really thought about it for a long time. Certainly when I got married I figured eventually there would be kids. But then my marriage fell apart and I was busy raising Jenny. I didn’t give it any more thought.”

“Jenny is going to eventually get married and start a family of her own. That’s important to her, having a husband and kids.” She tilted her head a bit, the light overhead glistening in her chestnut hair. “When do you get your chance, Lucas? When is it time for you to build something just for yourself?”

“I have my work. It’s always been enough for me,” he replied a bit uneasily.

“Work is what I do, but being a mother is who I am.” She took a sip of her coffee, then continued. “I bet you’d make an awesome dad.”

He laughed, the amusement surprising even himself. “You can’t have it both ways, Mariah. You’ve told me in so many words that I’ve been screwing it up with Jenny and yet you think I’d make a great dad. That’s a little bit contradictory, don’t you think?”

She smiled, and it was the first smile he’d seen from her that wasn’t tinged with grief, that didn’t hold tense lines and jagged edges. “My complaint about your parenting skills has nothing to do with when Jenny was younger. I’ll bet you were a loving caretaker for her when she was a kid. My only complaint is that you don’t seem to know that it’s time to let go.”

“Point taken,” he replied. “You’re different than I thought you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever I saw you at the mayor’s office, you seemed hard-edged and uptight. You’re softer than I thought.”

“I take my job very seriously. Besides, anytime you came in to see Richard, he freaked out just a little bit. I think you scare him. You’re always so sure of yourself and what you’re doing. Richard cares so much about this town and the people, but he’s less sure about his path than you are.”

“Did he know about your past? That you weren’t really a widow?”

She nodded. “I had no references to give him and so I told him the truth, that I wanted a fresh start here and was willing to work hard to create a good life. Harrington isn’t my real name. I couldn’t use Landers nor could I use my maiden name because I was afraid Frank would find me. Harrington is a name I chose, and the shelter where I stayed for a while helped me get identification in my new name. Richard knew all that and hired me anyway. He gave me a chance and kept my secret, and for that I’ll always be grateful to him.”

Lucas grinned. “Then I guess I’m going to have to ease up on Richard.”

The next couple of hours passed in quiet conversation. The tension, the stress and anxiety of the past four days seemed to have momentarily ebbed, as if their minds and bodies could no longer sustain the heightened sense of fear.

She told him a little bit more about her life with Frank, her lonely childhood with her mostly absent mother, and he regaled her with tales of his life in college with the friends he called his band of brothers, the men whom he still called his friends.

It was almost midnight when the coffee was gone and the fear returned. He saw it swimming back into her eyes, in the slight shake of her hands as she removed the cups from the table.

“You should try to get some sleep,” he said.

“I know. But I’m afraid to close my eyes.” She placed the cups in the dishwasher then turned back to face him. “I’m afraid I’ll have bad dreams, but more than that, I’m afraid those dreams might come true.”

Then the phone rang again.

Electricity sizzled through Mariah. “You think he’s calling back?”

“We won’t know unless we answer.” He punched the record and the speaker button. “Jamison,” he said.

“Lucas, it’s me, Jackson.” It was obvious from the background noise that Jackson Burdeaux was in his car.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Listen, I was on my way home from a meeting and heading down Baker’s Street south of town when I saw a little boy walking along the street. I’ve got him in my car now, but he’s having trouble breathing so we’re on our way to the hospital. I’m just hoping I get him there in time.”

“My God. It’s Billy,” she said. She pushed away from the dishwasher, and a wave of dizziness struck her. She drew a deep, steadying breath. Her heart beat so fast she thought she might be having a heart attack. Billy! He was having trouble breathing, but that meant he was alive!

Lucas ended the call. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

“It’s got to be him, right?” she asked a moment later when they were in Lucas’s car. “There can’t be another little boy walking along a street at midnight who has breathing problems.” Hope filled her and brought tears to her eyes, yet she was afraid to believe. She was afraid the hope that now rose inside her would be smashed, and she didn’t think she could survive that.

“It sounds like it’s him,” Lucas replied. He cast her a sideways glance. “You might want to prepare yourself. We don’t know what’s happened to him, where he’s been. We know he’s obviously suffering an asthma attack, but we don’t know what else he might be suffering from.”

“But surely if there’s been other injuries Jackson would have mentioned them,” she protested. He had to be all right. He just had to be.

“I’m not talking about physical injuries. We don’t know what he’s been through mentally, emotionally. He may be very fragile.”

“But he’s alive,” she replied. Surely with enough love and time they could heal whatever might be wrong. Her mind raced with possibilities. “You mentioned that one of your college buddies is a psychiatrist.”

He nodded. “Clay Jefferson. Why?”

“Does he see children? If Billy needs help, I’d want to take him to see somebody professionally.” She was a jittery mess, her brain shooting in a million different directions as she mentally urged him to go faster … faster.

“One step at a time,” Lucas replied as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. She was out of the car and running toward the entrance before he’d brought the car to a full halt.

Conja Creek Memorial Hospital was a small facility, mostly used for emergency situations. Most people with real health issues drove to Shreveport or were transported there.

The first person she saw as she flew through the emergency-room door was a tall, dark-haired man with slate-gray eyes. She knew in an instant this was Lucas’s friend, Jackson Burdeaux. Although she wanted to thank him, her most urgent need was to see if Billy really existed behind the closed doors just ahead. She started toward the doors.

“Wait! You can’t go back there.” A nurse stepped in front of her, blocking her forward progress.

“Please, the little boy who was just brought in. He’s my son. You have to let me through.”

The nurse’s implacable expression softened. “If you’re his mother then we need you to sign some forms.”

“Gina,” Lucas’s voice rang from behind them. “Let her through. The forms can wait until later.”