Chapter 26

26

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 16, 9:10 P.M.

CORA WAS SO FOCUSED ON both the gun at her head and that shadow at her kitchen door that she didn't hear anyone behind her until Alan made a strangled cry of pain. The pressure disappeared from her head, and she dropped to the floor, grabbing Tandy and dragging her under the table.

A thud shook the room and she peered through the legs of the chairs to see Alan sliding down the opposite wall. He still held the gun, but he was blinking hard.

Phin. Phin had thrown him across the room.

Phin had placed himself between Cora and Alan. Phin, who didn't have a gun. He was standing there, making himself a target.

"Don't come closer," Alan said, his arm extended, the gun now pointed at Phin's chest. "I will kill you."

No. No, no, no. Not Phin. Alan would kill him and Cora couldn't let that happen.

"Stop!" Cora crawled out from under the table. "I'll go with you. Just…don't hurt him. Don't hurt Tandy, either. I'll take you to Mexico."

"Cora," Phin said, his voice so very calm. "Get out. Go through the back door. Take Tandy with you. Call 911, then Burke. Now."

A shot cracked the air and Phin staggered backward, falling on his ass. Cora didn't think. She just threw herself over him.

"I said I'd go with you!" she cried. "Why did you have to shoot him?"

Alan struggled to his feet. "He wasn't going to let me take you out of here. Now move. You and the other girl. Go. I just want to get out of here."

Cora looked up at the man, tears blurring her vision. "No. You want to kill me, too. Because I know who you are. I know what you did. To my father. To your own daughter. To your granddaughter." She blinked hard to clear her eyes. "You're a monster."

Alan strode forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her away from Phin. She clutched Phin harder, even though her scalp burned and her eyes teared even more. Phin moved beneath her, one of his legs swinging wide.

For a moment, Cora was stunned into immobility. Phin wasn't hurt.

Kevlar , she thought. They were all still wearing their vests. Everyone except for Tandy.

Then the floor shook because Alan had fallen. The gun in his hand discharged, and Tandy screamed from under the table, the sound muffled.

Tandy. Oh God. Tandy.

Phin pushed Cora off him, rolling to his feet as he lurched toward Alan, grunting in pain when Alan fired again. "Get out, Cora!" Phin thundered. "Take Tandy and get out."

Phin dropped to his knees, crawling a few feet forward, his gaze fixed on Alan, one arm hanging limply at his side. Cora watched blood hit the floor around him in a steady flow. She looked up, following the path of the flowing blood.

It was pouring from Phin's arm. Pouring.

Cora stared in shock for a few hard beats.

Do something. Help him.

She'd pushed to her knees when the back door flew open and Patrick appeared, his hair flying every which direction.

"Tandy!" He ran inside, reached under the table, and grabbed Tandy under her arms, dragging her backward toward the kitchen door.

Another shot rang out and Patrick dropped Tandy to the floor, clutching his own chest, his face blank with shock.

No.

But it was true. The front of Patrick's white shirt was becoming dark, the blood looking black in the light from the streetlamps.

Patrick staggered backward, grabbing onto the kitchen counter. He slid to the floor, one hand still pressed to his chest while he shoved the other hand into his jacket pocket.

Cora saw the gun in Patrick's hand an instant before he fired.

Alan cried out, but he didn't slump to the floor. His shirt was also stained red, but not like Patrick's.

Not like Phin's.

Alan was looking around, wild-eyed, the gun in his hand sweeping back and forth as he grimaced in pain. He pointed his gun at Phin again.

Phin, who was crawling toward the older man. While blood still poured from his arm.

No more.

Cora flung herself forward, landing on Alan, grabbing onto his arm, trying to take the gun from his hand, but he was strong and he fought her. Hard.

Knowing that she fought not only for her own life, but for Phin's and Tandy's—and maybe even Patrick's—she put all her strength into bending Alan's wrist so that his gun pointed at his own chest. Not Phin's. Not Tandy's. Not mine.

A pair of strong hands—bloody hands—landed on hers, shoving at the gun in Alan's hand. Phin. Together they got the weapon pointed at Alan and Cora slid her finger over the older man's. Right over the trigger.

"Let it go," Cora ordered, her words choppy, her breath coming in pants. "Drop the gun, Beauchamp. Or I'll kill you myself."

He met her eyes, his burning with rage. "You won't," he gritted out. "You can't."

One pull of her finger would do it. One little pull.

But he was right. She couldn't do it.

Tears blurred her vision once again. I have to. I have to. Or he'll kill Phin. He'll kill Tandy. He might have already killed Patrick. And Val. Where was she? Had he killed her, too?

Do something.

Her mental self-talk shattered into a million pieces when another shot fired. Cora stared at the hole in Alan's forehead.

She fell backward when Alan suddenly stopped fighting for his gun. He hadn't fired, and neither had she. Slowly she looked across the kitchen at Patrick, who lay in a pool of his own blood, his gun lowering to the floor.

Alan was dead.

Cora dropped Alan's gun and scooted away from his body, turning to Phin. He'd crawled over to another wall and was attempting to lift his arm over his heart. Because he was still bleeding.

So much blood.

Cora looked around frantically for something to use as a tourniquet. Anything to stop his bleeding. "Why don't you wear a belt?" she cried, because he was pale and shaking.

He could die.

No. No, no, no.

"Sorry," he whispered.

Call 911.

Do something.

She had no idea where her phone was, so she grabbed Phin's from his shirt pocket. It had miraculously survived the gunfire without even a scratch. She dialed 911 and put the phone on speaker, begging for help as soon as the operator answered.

She pushed to her feet and began opening drawers, trying to find something to stop his bleeding. Ah. Cloth napkins and…

A wooden spoon. She grabbed the spoon and a handful of napkins.

She could do this. She'd read about it while helping one of her library patrons study for a first-aid exam.

Suddenly calm, she dropped to her knees next to Phin and tied one of the napkins around his arm, above the wound, then inserted the spoon and began to twist it until the tourniquet was tight. She tucked one end of the spoon under his shirt sleeve before pressing another napkin to the wound itself, trying to stop the bleeding.

Phin's other hand came up to clasp the second napkin, putting pressure on the wound himself. "Go to Patrick. I'm good."

"You're not, but I'll see to him. Don't die. I just found you."

Phin's smile was lopsided. "Okay."

She kissed him hard, then crawled across the floor to where Patrick lay, struggling for each breath.

Tandy sat staring at him, her eyes glazed in shock. Blood seeped from a wound in her leg, but it didn't look urgent, so Cora wiped her hands on her jeans before grabbing the tape and pulling it from her friend's mouth as gently as she could. "Tandy?"

Tandy just stared at her.

Cora spun around on her knees, pressing the remaining napkins to Patrick's chest. "Why?" she whispered.

"He hurt…my Tandy."

"You were outside the door."

Patrick coughed and blood bubbled from his mouth.

Oh no. Oh no.

"Did you kill my father?" She had to know before he breathed his last.

"No. Just…followed him. Needed to make sure he…did the job."

"He did. He delivered that baby to the Caulfields."

Patrick made a gurgling sound and reached for Tandy, but all he got was air. Tandy was frozen. Cora wasn't even sure she could hear them right now.

Across the kitchen, the 911 operator was loudly calling for her, telling her that help was on the way.

"Ambulances," Cora shouted. "Three. Maybe four." Because Val was still MIA. She hoped the operator heard her because she needed to focus on Patrick. The napkins were already soaking-wet with his blood.

"Did you put his body in the Damper Building?"

"Yes. Had to…keep anyone…from finding him. Afraid…would lead…to me."

Cora barely restrained her fury. "Did you write the letters?"

"Yessss." He slurred the word, more blood bubbling from his mouth. "To distract you. Then…to help you. So you'd think he loved you. Sorry. So sorry. Never meant…to hurt you."

"You don't get to apologize," Cora snarled. His actions had hurt her mother for years. Had kept the police from finding her father's murderer. "You're not forgiven, Patrick. I'm sorry for that."

"Fair," he whispered. "Tried. To be your father."

"But you weren't. My father was dead." She reached up on the counter and grabbed a towel, pressing it to his wound because the cloth napkins were now too wet. Useless.

"Tandy…didn't know."

"I know." Cora glanced over at her oldest friend, whose expression had changed from dazed and numb to full of sorrow. "I'll take care of her, Patrick. You have my word."

"Th-thank you." He tried to reach for Tandy again and this time she scooted forward. Her hands were still tied, but she could speak.

"Daddy?" The word came out a sob. "I love you."

"Love you, too." More blood bubbled up. Cora gave up trying to save his life. She rose and grabbed a paring knife from the butcher block and began to saw at the ropes tying Tandy's hands.

Patrick was going to die. At least Tandy could hold his hand.

The moment Tandy was free she grabbed her father's hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

At least Tandy would get to say goodbye.

Which was more than Cora had been allowed.

Bitter. You're bitter.

I'm angry. I'm allowed.

She returned to Phin's side. "Where's SodaPop?"

"Left her outside. Didn't want her…to get hurt."

"And Val?"

"Don't know. Find her."

Cora kissed him again. "The ambulance will be here soon. Do not die."

He smiled weakly. "Yes sir, Cora, sir."

Cora was exhausted, staggering as she ran from the kitchen. She opened the front door first, hoping SodaPop hadn't run away.

She should have known better. The dog was sitting on the welcome mat and ran past her to the kitchen the moment the door was opened wide enough.

SodaPop would keep Phin calm until the medics arrived. That was important.

She made herself run up the stairs, holding on to the handrail for support. Covering the shiny wood with blood.

It'll clean.

She checked all the rooms for Val but found no one, so she ran back down and out the front door. Her back gate was open. It had been closed before.

Running through it, Cora found Val on the ground in the back garden, rolling from her stomach to her back, blinking slowly up at the night sky. She saw Cora and flinched.

"What happened? Whose blood is that?"

Cora dropped to her knees, wiping as much blood from her hands to her jeans as she could. "Not mine. Alan was here. He shot Patrick, who shot him back. Alan is dead, Patrick is dying. Phin is hurt bad, but I think I've stopped his bleeding and an ambulance is on the way. Where are you hurt?"

Val touched her head gingerly, wincing. "I'm okay."

"You lost consciousness for several minutes. You're not okay. Where are you hurt?"

"He stabbed me in the leg, then hit me with something. That shit hurts."

Cora's hands started searching for a knife wound. I need more napkins. She found the wound and looked around for something to bandage it with. "Who stabbed you?"

"Patrick. I was clearing the house and saw him from the attic window, creeping through the back gate. Didn't know Alan was here, too. I ran back down to stop Patrick, but he lunged for me. Got me in the leg with his knife. Then he hit me with a goddamn rock. Took my gun."

"He shot Alan with it. May have saved my and Phin's life."

That should count for something. Someday, when everything stopped hurting, it might.

Sirens came blaring down the street and Cora could see the flashing lights through the open gate. Help was here.

"I'll be right back. Don't move."

Val's laugh bordered on hysterical. "I don't know if I can."

Cora ran to the front yard. "I need one medic back here and two in the kitchen." The ME could come for Alan later.

She hoped he was already burning in hell.

Tulane Medical Center, New Orleans, Louisiana

MONDAY, DECEMBER 19, 10:30 A.M.

"He looks better," Val said, lowering herself into one of the chairs near Phin's bed. She was limping, but, like Phin, she'd make a full recovery. Patrick's knife hadn't hit anything critical. The doctors had been more worried about the concussion. But they'd assured her that she'd recover from that, as well.

Val was more embarrassed than anything else, which wasn't fatal, so Cora wasn't worrying about her anymore.

Phin, on the other hand…Cora had come too close to losing him.

She ran her eyes over Phin's sleeping form. "More color in his cheeks. He's been sleeping a lot, which is what he needs right now."

"How about you, Cora Jane?" Val asked. "Are you okay?"

Cora knew full well that Val wasn't talking about being physically okay. "No. I haven't seen Tandy since she left with her father's body on Friday. I still don't even know why she was there in my kitchen."

"I don't know, either," Val said. "I dropped by her condo to check on her. Her cousin was there."

"Maura, her cousin on her mother's side. She's the only family Tandy has left now."

"She said that Tandy was resting. Said she'd call you when she was ready."

Cora sighed. "I think I know how Phin's sister has felt all these years. Waiting for someone to be ready."

Val commiserated with her for a few moments, then brightened. "Oh, we got news you'll want to hear. Sage Beauchamp was picked up by police in a village outside Madrid. He's being escorted back to the U.S. to face charges of murder in the death of your boss and Sanjay Prakash."

"Good. Sage spared Ashley, but he killed Minnie for no good reason at all. Just covering his ass."

A knock at the door had them both looking up. Burke came in and pulled up a chair. "He looks better."

"I feel better," Phin said grumpily. "I'd feel even better if you guys didn't talk so loud."

Cora winced. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it." He clumsily patted Cora's hand. "It's okay. I know waiting for me has been hard on Scar."

Phin knew that his family had been informed that he'd been hurt and that he was okay. He didn't know that Scarlett and Cora had spoken for a long time on the phone. Cora hoped Phin wouldn't be too upset that Cora had contacted the Cincinnati detective, but she couldn't stand to let the woman go another hour without knowing her brother was coming home.

"Tandy will come around," Phin went on, then turned to Burke. "Did Patrick have any files like Jack kept?"

"Not that NOPD's been able to find," Burke said. "Antoine and I have been checking through the initials on your father's client list, Cora, putting old property records with names. Not including the Caulfields and the two clients who were actually guilty men running from the law, all of Jack's clients had filed restraining orders against their abusers and had filed multiple police reports citing the abuse. Jack mostly helped people who really needed it. It doesn't appear that anyone except for Alice's first husband died while the clients were being extracted and relocated. Payment for the new IDs seems to have come from family members. Not the mob."

Cora felt the weight roll off her shoulders. "Thank you."

Burke gave her a gentle smile. "You're welcome. Some of those people had already returned to their old homes and identities after their abusers were out of the picture. Usually the abusers died of natural causes, nothing to do with Jack. About half of his clients are still living under the new names. We can't find some of them, so they're likely still in hiding. The ones we did find said that your father was kind and supportive and they credit him with saving them. It's a good legacy to leave behind, I think."

Cora thought so, too. "I got a call from that Swiss bank this morning. They're releasing my father's account to me." She drew a breath. "It had nearly two hundred thousand dollars in it."

"Wow," Val said. "I didn't expect that much."

"It wasn't at the beginning. There's twenty-three years of interest in there, too."

"What are you going to do with the money, Cora?" Burke asked.

Cora glanced at Phin. His mouth curved in a slow smile of approval that warmed her soul. "Well," she said, "assuming the police let me keep it and if there's any left after the back taxes and fines, I'm going to use it to start transitional housing for military vets. That money, plus the necklace Phin found, will fund the program for a few years at least. The necklace will be worth far more than the Swiss bank account. There are grants, too, so I'll be working to secure those."

Both Burke and Val looked stunned, and then their smiles mirrored Phin's.

"That's perfect," Val said.

"I want to donate," Burke said simply. "Tell me when and how much. I've got an inheritance I barely touch from a crazy old uncle who had more money than sense."

"We'll all want to help," Val said. "We've all served and we all know a vet who could use a hand up."

"At least one," Burke said. "I can't believe we didn't think to do this already."

"You did," Phin said. "You helped me."

That stopped Burke in his tracks. "I guess we did. Best decision ever, Phin."

Phin's cheeks pinked up. He didn't say anything, but he looked pleased.

Val patted his hand. "They also found the white van that was parked outside Medford Hughes's house the night he was killed. Clancy said that they were able to track it to a storage unit near Xavier University. The storage unit and van, along with another car, were registered in Jenny Beauchamp's name."

"Sonofabitch," Phin snarled.

Cora had to agree.

"Um, excuse me?"

Cora spun in her chair at the familiar voice. "Tandy."

Tandy stepped into Phin's room, looking uncertain. "I hoped we could talk."

Val and Burke started to stand, but Tandy waved them back to their chairs.

"You can stay. I won't take long."

Cora frowned when Tandy pulled up a chair. "You haven't been sleeping, Tandy." There were dark circles under Tandy's eyes and her spirit was gone. She'd been bouncy and irrepressible, but now she looked gray.

Tandy touched the bags under her eyes self-consciously. "I'm leaving New Orleans."

Cora gasped. "Tandy, no."

"For a while. I don't know what I'll do with the gallery, but I'll figure it out. I can't stay here, Cora."

"Where will you go?" Cora asked, her voice small.

"To Seattle. That's where Maura's been living and she likes it." Tandy's smile was wan. "Lots of coffee shops up there. I could use the caffeine."

Cora wanted to beg her to stay, but she could see Tandy's point. Everyone knew about the shootout in the Garden District, as it was being called. There would be reporters and memories everywhere she turned. "Will you come back?"

"Someday. Maybe." Tandy blew out a breath. "I need to explain a few things. I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything," Cora said fiercely.

"I do. So hush. I lied to you that night in your kitchen. My father had been traveling a lot in the years before we moved, and always to New Orleans. After I left your house Thursday night, I asked him if he'd ever done any art restoration. I told him that I had an overload of clients and might need his help. He said that he did, back in Thibodaux, when I was little, but he'd lost his love for it." She bowed her head. "He said he was restoring a painting when a friend of his died. Every time he picked up a brush, he was reminded of that man and he couldn't stand it. I…I didn't want to believe that the paint found on Jack's clothes could have been my father's."

"But you did believe it," Burke said. "What made you?"

"Two things. Cora mentioned that the letter writer had a wobbly r . I checked the last note Dad left me and…wobbly r 's all over the place. Then I found a little envelope of keys in his coat pocket. They matched the key you gave me, Cora. I didn't make even one copy. He must have taken my key and made copies. So I took one of those keys and went to your house. I wanted to be sure they really were keys to your place, y'know?"

"I know," Cora said quietly. She hadn't wanted to believe it about Patrick, either.

"I unlocked the door and it was…devastating. The key fit. But I didn't have time to think about it because that man was behind me, pushing me into the house."

"Alan Beauchamp?" Cora asked.

Tandy nodded, her face haunted. "He made me turn off the alarm and told me we were going to wait for you, and then you were going to take him far away. I was leverage."

"I'm glad he's dead," Cora said, not sorry in the least.

"Me too. There, at the end, Dad said that Detective Clancy had already asked him who might have that kind of paint stain, so he was already a suspect. He used his last breaths to tell me that. When I asked about the restoration work on Thursday night, he was afraid I knew about the stain, too. On Friday, in your kitchen, he said that he'd found that one of the keys he'd made was missing and was afraid I'd gone to tell you. But when he got there, you and Val and Phin had already come back. He thought he'd go around the back, listen in to find out what we were saying. When Val came through the gate, he panicked because he figured that she knew, so he…" She shrugged. "I'm sorry, Val. He shouldn't have hurt you."

Val smiled graciously. "Not your fault, hon."

"We saw all of that later, on the camera feed we set up for Cora," Burke said. "We got a notification from the alarm system that someone had entered the house on Friday, but at the time we thought it was Cora, Val, and Phin coming back from talking to Clancy. We didn't look at the camera feed right away and that's on us. We would have known you were in danger, but we were busy settling some visitors in at my house and…"

"Alan still would have been inside," Phin said. "Your cameras would have given us warning, but he still would have had Tandy. Your father came to save you, Tandy."

"Well, I think he originally came to stop me from talking. But once he saw I was in trouble, he was going to help. Anyway, I thought you should know. I'm sorry, Cora. I didn't listen to you and it nearly cost us both of our lives. Can you forgive me?"

"Oh, Tandy. There's nothing to forgive. I couldn't believe it, either."

Tandy's lips quivered, then pursed firmly. "Nevertheless, thank you for trying to help him." She pulled a thick envelope from her handbag and set it on the foot of Phin's bed. "The other thing he told me, right before he died, was that he had a safe-deposit box in a different bank than the one we use for the gallery. I retrieved his papers this morning. He kept records, too, it seems. It's all there, Cora. Information on their partnership and their clients. All of his emails to and from clients are in there, too, all signed John Robertson. There were a few clients that he wasn't so proud of, but I think you might already know about them. Your father and the other guy—Tom Rodgers, a cop—were in it to help people, and my father was, too, at first. Then he met a guy in a chat room who needed passage out of the country and, from what Dad wrote, the money was just too hard to pass up. He was a schoolteacher back then, making no money, and he wanted better for us." She took a moment to breathe, then squared her shoulders. "He lied to your dad and Tom about how much those two clients paid them. He kept most of it. I think you'll find that the money he made from their side business funded the purchase of the gallery and the house we lived in when we first came to New Orleans. There was no aunt who left him an inheritance. You were right about everything."

"I didn't want to be," Cora whispered.

"I know," Tandy whispered back. "There's a letter in my father's things. It's from your father to your mother. I…I think my father took it from your house."

Cora looked at the thick envelope, considered pulling the letter out to read, but her heart hurt and she didn't think she could bear it. "What did he say?"

Tandy swallowed. "He told her that he'd left her a puzzle, the most important of their lives. That she should remember the night they met and all the nights thereafter, to look at all the beautiful photos they'd taken of their family. Of ‘just us.' Then he told her to ‘roll the dice' and ‘use the key.' That part didn't make any sense to me."

"It does to me," Cora murmured.

"Good. He also said that he loved her and that he's sorry if he's dead. That he was trying to do the right thing. He never stopped loving your mother, Cora. When I said he probably deserved what he got, I was wrong. I was wrong about so many things. And I'm sorry." Tandy rose, gripping her handbag tightly. "Give the papers to the police or don't. I'm too tired to care anymore." She met Cora's gaze. "I'll write you from Seattle, I promise. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Cora jumped from her chair. " Tomorrow? "

Tandy swallowed. "I'm running. I know that. But I can't look at anything around here without thinking of my father. I need a fresh start."

Cora took a step forward. Tandy took a step back. "Bye, Cora Jane. Be happy, okay?" Then she was gone.

Cora stared after her, openmouthed. Then she sank into the chair, numb once again. A warm hand covered hers. Phin.

A pair of arms hugged her from behind. Val.

A hand stroked her hair. Burke.

"You're ours now," Phin said. "It'll be all right."

Cora nodded. And let the tears come.

Tulane Medical Center, Uptown, New Orleans, Louisiana

MONDAY, DECEMBER 19, 12:30 P.M.

"I'm fine," Phin insisted, but Cora plumped his pillows anyway.

Why was he fighting this? Every time she leaned over him, her breasts brushed over his chest and he could inhale the scent of strawberries.

"Actually, I'm not fine," he said, and she looked down at him surprised.

"What's wrong?"

He smiled up at her. "Just want you to plump my pillow again. Come really close."

Cora laughed. "You bad boy." She sat in the chair next to his bed. She'd barely left since he'd been admitted, and it had meant the world to see her there every time he'd opened his eyes. To know she'd be there when he opened them again. And then she sighed. "Um, I have a confession to make."

She'd sobered, and he felt his smile fade away. "What happened?"

"I…Well, I called your sister."

Phin's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

But he wasn't as upset as he once might have been.

"She called you Saturday morning, on your cell phone. Left you a voicemail." She shrugged. "I listened to it and it broke my heart. You should hear what she said."

He didn't want to listen. He hated that his sister was once again worried about him after he'd landed his ass in the hospital. At least this time he was being hailed as a hero, unlike last time when he'd just been in a bar fight. But still.

No, you're going to listen.

"How did she know to call me?"

"You've been on the news, Phin," Cora said matter-of-factly. "You were even trending online for a few hours. This story has gotten a lot of press. Burke told your family that you were here in the hospital and that you would be all right. We figured we owed them that much."

He'd seen a few of the reports on TV, had read a few online. They'd managed to keep everything related to Alice VanPatten and the others secret, but everything else was widely known.

Alan Beauchamp's church was mourning their minister. Phin didn't know what to make of that. They knew he'd killed people, had sent his daughter to a psychiatric hospital after lying to her about her baby being dead, and then paid someone to place that child elsewhere.

The identity of Ashley's father had not been shared, pending DNA confirmation. Phin hoped he never met Colonel Walton Beauchamp. He hoped the cops were able to use the DNA to put the raping bastard away for a long time.

You're stalling. He really was.

"What does Scarlett want?"

Cora pressed his phone into his hand that wasn't hooked up to an IV. "Listen."

Scarlett loves you unconditionally. Remember that. Even if she's mad.

He took a breath and hit play.

"Phin, it's Scarlett." Phin winced because Scarlett had been crying. "I've respected your need for space, but I can't do it anymore. It's killing me inside. I love you and you're hurt and I just want you to come home. Please, Phin. Come home."

That was it. Short and sweet. So sweet that his heart hurt as he listened a second time and then a third.

Cora pushed a tissue into his hand and he realized he'd been crying. "Call her, Phin. You know you want to."

"What did you tell her when you called?"

"That the doctors said you'd make a full recovery and that you'd been shot saving my life."

"Oh. Okay." But she was wincing. "What else, Cora Jane?"

"We talked for a while. I told her that you'd been planning to come home for Christmas. That you might have to wait until New Year's if the doctor didn't release you, but that you were coming home if I had to drive you myself." She winced again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." And it really was. "It probably kept them from jumping in their cars and driving down here to see me."

Cora nodded. "I think it did. But now you have to go back because I promised."

"I would have gone even if you hadn't, but I'm glad you were able to make them feel better for now."

He didn't even realize he'd tensed until SodaPop whined from beside him in the hospital bed. He petted her head, was so glad that SodaPop was a trained service dog. She hadn't been allowed in the ICU after his surgery, but they'd allowed her to stay by his side once he'd gotten into a regular room. Delores had been on standby to walk, feed, and water his dog so that she could stay close.

Phin was so lucky to have such amazing friends. He didn't deserve them, but he wasn't going to give them back. As if they'd go.

As luck would have it, Joy's room was only four doors down. She'd come to visit for a while the night before.

You're stalling again.

"Can you dial for me and then put it on speaker?" he asked. "I only have one free hand and that one needs to pet SodaPop."

Cora nodded, her expression softening. "Of course. Do you want me to leave?"

"No." The very thought seemed wrong. She belongs with me. "Stay. Please."

"Okay." Cora dialed the number Scarlett had called from and sat back in her chair, the picture of patience.

Phin was not patient. Now that he'd committed to this endeavor, he wanted it to happen now. He waited through four rings and was resigned to leaving a voicemail of his own when someone picked up.

For a long moment, no one said a word, but Phin could hear breathing. "Scarlett?" he whispered.

Cora moved his phone from his lap, setting it on his collarbone so that his whisper could be heard.

"Scarlett?" he said again.

A sob tore through the line. "Phin? It's you? Really you?"

He ran his fingers through SodaPop's coat. She gave his hand a gentle lick. At least he couldn't run, even if he wanted to. "Yeah. It's me."

"Give me a minute." She was still crying, but the sobs had slowed to hiccups. "Are you all right? I talked to your girlfriend. She said you were going to be all right, but I've worried every moment."

He wondered how many moments she'd worried about him, and guilt hit him hard.

"Stop," Cora murmured. "I can see the guilt written all over your face."

"Who's there?" Scarlett asked. "Is that you, Cora?"

"It is. I can leave if you want me to, but Phin asked me to stay."

"Stay. You got him to call me. You can stay forever."

Phin choked on a laugh, then moaned. "That hurt."

"You deserve it," Scarlett said crisply, and then her voice gentled. "I've missed you."

All the laughter was gone. All he felt now was a profound sadness for the years he'd stayed away. Cora took the fingers of his IV hand.

"Be here," she said quietly. "In this moment."

He nodded, his throat thick. "I've missed you, too, Scar. So much. All of you."

"I have a lot to tell you. I'm going to need hours and hours. You're an uncle."

"I know. I look at every photo you send me. I kept that phone number just so I could see the pictures you kept sending. She's beautiful, Scar."

There was a moment of silence. "Will she get to meet you?"

"Yes." The word flew from his mouth, sure and certain. "I was going to come for Christmas. I don't know if I still can come then, but as soon as I can travel, I'm coming."

"Should…should I tell Mom?"

"Will she be…"

"Will she be mad? Oh yes. Will she want to smack you? Yes. Will she love you and hug you and never let you go? Also yes."

He heard the conviction in his sister's voice, but still he worried. "If she doesn't want me to come, I'll stay away. I don't want to cause a commotion."

"Phineas Butler Bishop. Don't make me come down there and smack you for her. You will come home. We will fuss over you. There will be commotion. Good commotion," she added, her voice breaking. "I can't believe I'm finally talking to you again."

"I'm sorry, Scar," he whispered, closing his eyes and concentrating on the deep, even breathing of his dog.

"I know," she whispered back. "You can tell me about it when you're ready." She cleared her throat. "We're proud of you, Phin."

"I'm not perfect," he blurted out. "I have…issues."

"I know," she said again. "I'm not perfect, either. None of us are. We'll work with your issues. You're really coming home?"

"For Christmas, yes. Or maybe New Year's, if I have to wait to drive."

"But you'll go back to New Orleans, after." He could hear the smile in her voice. "That's okay, Phin. We know you've built a life there, but you will always have a place here. In our house. In our hearts."

Phin shuddered out a breath. "Love you, Scarlett."

"Love you, Phineas. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Tell Mom…I don't know."

"Tell her yourself," she said softly. "Recite a poem, tell a joke. It won't matter what you tell her. Only that it's you doing the telling."

Phin had to breathe through the tightness in his chest. "Bye, Scar."

"Bye, Phin."

She ended the call and Phin lay there, unable to stop the tears that kept running down his face. Cora leaned over him, dabbing his cheeks dry, and he breathed her in.

"You've been here for three days," he said. "How do you still smell so good?"

Cora laughed. "I used the shower in your bathroom. The nurses said I could." She sobered. "I had to go home and shower while you were in surgery. Fastest shower ever in the history of the world. But I was covered in other people's blood."

Phin nodded. It had been on his hands. But it had been his own blood. No trigger. No spiral. Or maybe that was due to SodaPop.

And Cora.

"You were amazing, you know," he said, suddenly so tired. "Fixing me up with a napkin and a wooden spoon. How did you know how to do that?"

"I'm a librarian," she said with a grin. "I know many things."

"Super-Librarian," he murmured. "I'm sleepy. You'll stay?"

"Yes. I'll be here when you wake up."