Countdown to Death. Debby Giusti
gone to the hospital for observation. But the facility was seventy-five miles away, and she didn’t have time to twiddle her thumbs while the doc on duty determined she could be released in the morning.
She needed to find the reason for her test results before someone in Atlanta decided to release the three units for transfusion.
“It’s over, Allison,” the laboratory manager’s words echoed through her mind.
Allison had worked too long and come too far to have her research dismissed so quickly.
The hum of the tires along the country road, the warmth of the heater and the darkness lulled Allison into a light slumber.
She blinked her eyes open when the car came to a stop in front of a small log cabin with a wide porch, where Luke’s aunt waved a greeting. Two wrought-iron lights illuminated a glider swing and rocking chair.
Rounding the car, Luke opened the passenger door and held out his hand. Placing hers in his, she felt the strength of his grasp, grateful for his support as her stiff muscles refused to readily comply.
“Shelly’s in bed and waiting for you to tell her good-night,” Bett said to Luke, then, wrapping her arm around Allison, she ushered her toward the cabin. “I’ve got everything ready for you, dear.”
“Take good care of her,” Luke said as their hands parted.
“Now come on, honey. I’ll get you settled.” Bett opened the cabin door. Before Allison stepped inside, she glanced back at Luke, who walked purposely toward a large, sprawling farmhouse about fifty yards away.
What was it about Luke Garrison? He’d saved her life, for which she’d be eternally grateful. Both he and his aunt seemed welcoming with their offer of lodging and attention to her needs.
He had seemed friendly enough until she’d mentioned his parents. Death was hard. Something she knew firsthand. Evidently, Luke was a private person who kept his feelings to himself.
But his tone of voice sent a question niggling at the back of her mind.
Was there something he wanted to keep secret about their deaths?
TWO
The next morning, Allison’s eyes opened with a start to the gray haze filtering through the calico curtains. Her hand touched the crisp cotton sheet and thick multicolored quilt that covered the bed where she lay.
Her body ached. She stretched to ensure her muscles would respond, then wiggled her fingers and toes. Nothing broken.
Recollection flooded over her. The fire, her cries for help, strong hands that pulled her from the burning building.
Death had almost found her in Sterling, Georgia. Not a good way to start her stay.
Rising in the bed, she grimaced when the muscles in her back protested; she stretched, hoping to ease out the kinks. Once on her feet, she parted the curtain and spied her car parked outside.
Last night seemed a blur. The doctor had given her something to help her relax. Evidently, it had taken effect before she’d arrived at the cabin.
No other motel or hotel in town. Luckily, no one had been hurt in the fire. And the man who had saved her?
She remembered the determination in his voice before they’d jumped. About the only thing she was able to clearly recall.
Brain still as fuzzy as cotton batting, she spied her purse on the nightstand and her overnight bag on the floor.
Slowly the events of the night before unfolded. Once she’d found her room at the B and B, she’d been too tired to retrieve her suitcase from the car. Instead she had dozed on the bed and awakened later, smelling smoke.
Gratitude filled her again.
Luke and his aunt—
What was her name? Bett Garrison. That was it. They’d been so kind to offer lodging.
Allison hadn’t expected their generosity or the sense of relief that washed over her now. She could have died in the fire.
A déjà vu of Drew.
She shook off the thought. This wasn’t the time or place to revisit the past.
Better to deal with the issue at hand.
Closing the curtain, Allison turned from the window and opened her suitcase. She needed to find the Garrisons to thank them for their hospitality before she headed to town to talk to the men she’d tried to contact by phone yesterday. She’d left two messages on voice mail and had arranged an interview with the only person she could reach at home.
One in three. Not good odds.
Once dressed, Allison stepped outside into the overcast morning and shuffled toward the two-story frame farmhouse, her body refusing to move at any pace but slow. A barn sat in the distance near a rolling pasture where a few head of cattle grazed.
The house had a tin roof, black shutters and a wraparound porch neatly arranged with a rattan love seat, chair and dual rockers. The surrounding hardwood trees—sweet gums, maples and oaks—wore their fall colors, from bright reds to burnt umber. The breeze fluttered through the trees, sending a shower of leaves that piled like giant confetti on the ground below.
The screen door opened and Bett welcomed her with a wide smile. Her red hair was pulled into a clip at the base of her neck. She wore jeans and a pullover sweater and looked rested and fresh.
“I was wondering how late you’d sleep. Breakfast is ready. ’Spect you’re hungry after that ordeal last night. I’ve got eggs, sausage, grits and corn bread waiting on the stove.”
“You’ve been so kind. Thank you, Bett.”
“Nice to have company to look after. Gets kind of lonely around here sometimes.” She watched as Allison crept up the porch steps. “How’s the back?”
“Much better.”
Inside, a leather couch and love seat sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling stacked stone fireplace. Hunting magazines lay neatly arranged on the coffee table, and a mounted deer head hung over the mantel. Definitely a man’s room.
A second door led to an area off the kitchen where a round oak pedestal table, covered with a linen cloth, was set for four.
“Sit there, dear.” Bett pointed to a chair and reached for the coffeepot.
“Luke will be downstairs in a minute. We home-school Shelly, and he’s helping her with today’s lesson.”
“So it’s just the three of you?”
“That’s right. My brother—Luke’s dad—passed away about ten years ago. And Luke’s mother died shortly after Shelly was born.”
Seems Bett didn’t have a problem discussing their deaths. “I’m sorry.”
“The Lord knows what He’s doing even when we don’t understand.”
Allison wished she could be half as positive when it came to anything to do with God.
Bett poured coffee into a mug and handed it to Allison. The rich aroma of the fresh brew, mixed with the smell of corn bread and sausage, was making her mouth water. She blew into the hot liquid and took a sip, feeling at ease in the comfortable kitchen.
A door opened behind her. Allison turned, and just that quickly, her sense of serenity vanished, replaced with a nervous tingle that warmed her from the inside out.
Luke stood in the doorway. Lean and lanky with broad shoulders that filled out the plaid shirt tucked into well-worn jeans.
“Come on now, Shelly,” he called. “The lady won’t hurt you.”
Glancing into the kitchen, he flashed a smile at Allison that caused her cheeks to burn.
“Shelly’s shy around strangers,” he explained.