Where There's Smoke

“She should stop immediately.”

Janellen smiled wanly. “Never in a million years.”

“Urge her to eat properly and monitor her cholesterol intake. She should do moderate exercise. See that she takes her medication. Those precautions will help prevent a life-threatening stroke, but there are no guarantees.”

“There’s no complete cure?”

“For selected patients the arterial blockage can be removed surgically. It’s a fairly routine procedure. Unfortunately, without the proper tests and your mother’s full cooperation, that’s not an option.” Sensing Janellen’s despair, she leaned forward and pressed her hand. “I’m sorry. And remember, I could be wrong.”

“I doubt you are, Dr. Mallory. You’ve said essentially what the emergency room doctor told us. Thank you for discussing it with me. And for the soda.” She set the untouched drink on the coffee table and stood to go.

“Under the circumstances, I doubt we can be friends, but I’d like us to be cordial. Please call me Lara.”

Janellen smiled but remained noncommittal. When they reached the front door, both were surprised to see that it was raining. It was much easier to talk about something as banal as the weather. Finally, Janellen shook the doctor’s hand.

“You had every right to be rude to me. Thank you for inviting me in.”

“Thank you for giving my opinion credibility. The next time you visit, let’s hope the reason for it won’t be so serious.”

“Next time? Are you asking me to come back?”

“Of course. Feel free to drop in anytime.”

“You’re very nice, Dr…. Lara. I can understand why my brother was so attracted to you.”

Lara shook back her hair and, looking up at the rainy skies, laughed mirthlessly. “You’re wrong. Key isn’t the least attracted to me.”

Janellen was stunned. “Key?” she repeated with puzzlement. “I was referring to Clark.”

Chapter Sixteen

Bowie flipped up the collar of his denim jacket and huddled closer to the exterior wall of the house. The eaves provided scant protection from the blowing rain. He was getting soaked.

He really couldn’t say why he wa

s at the Tacketts’ place at this time of night, standing outside in the rain. He should be stretched out in front of his secondhand TV set. His rented trailer had few amenities, but at least it was dry.

Whatever the weather, he had no business being here. Jody Tackett’s health was a private family matter. They’d hardly want an outsider butting in. None of that had affected his decision to come; he had felt compelled. When he arrived, he noticed that Key’s Lincoln was gone and so was Janellen’s car. He parked the company truck out of sight behind the detached garage. The only car in the driveway belonged to the housekeeper.

He saw no need to announce his presence to her. What would he say? He supposed he could tell her the truth—that he was worried about Miss Janellen; how she was reacting to her mama’s collapse in the Sak’n’Save. Then the housekeeper would probably want to know what business it was of his, and he’d have to say no business of his at all, and she’d shoo him off the porch and probably call the law.

So he lurked in the shadows, standing ankle deep in rainwater. He couldn’t adequately justify his reason for being there. He just knew he had to be. Furthermore, he intended to stay right where he was, come hell or high water, until he saw for himself that Miss Janellen was holding together.

He hadn’t laid eyes on her since that afternoon of their kiss, followed by her startling declaration that she loved him. He hadn’t taken it seriously, of course. Something had caused her to blurt it out—PMS, or too much sun, or maybe an allergy pill that had made her a little goofy. In hindsight, she probably felt like cutting out her tongue.

Because he empathized with anyone who shot off his mouth without thinking, he’d been avoiding Janellen, sparing her the embarrassment of having to face him and offer an excuse for her bizarre behavior. Sure enough, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him, too.

They couldn’t keep dodging each other forever, though. Sooner or later they’d meet, so it might as well be tonight when she had something even more terrible to fret over. He couldn’t do anything about her mama’s failing health, but he could relieve her of one concern. He could assure her that he didn’t intend to take advantage of something she’d said during a mental lapse of unknown origin.

Headlights appeared at the end of the private drive. Bowie’s gut clenched reflexively as he watched the car turn off the county road and onto Tackett property. He shrank back closer to the wall, not wanting to be seen until he was certain it was Janellen. Reputedly, Key kept a loaded Beretta beneath the driver’s seat of his car. It could be gossip, but Bowie would just as soon not have it confirmed the hard way. If Key saw a prowler, he might shoot first and ask questions later.

The headlights, diffused by the rain, approached slowly. Bowie recognized Janellen’s car. She parked in the driveway, got out, and dashed through the rain toward the back door. The screen door squeaked when she pulled it open. She had her key in the latch when he softly called her name.

Startled, she spun around. Rain fell on her pale face as she peered through the gloom. “Bowie! What in the world are you doing out here?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, but you’re soaked. How long have you been out here? Come inside.”