Flight of Fancie Read online

  “He’s a great guy, you know? When he found out about Aunt Alicia and Uncle James, he offered to do anything he could to help.”

  Fancie kissed her cousin on the cheek before watching her drive away. She let herself into the house. The absolute silence seemed eerie. Luke’s Jeep was parked in the driveway near the cottage. She peered out the kitchen window, trying to see if he might be up. The door opened and Luke ushered Barney outside. The little dog explored the yard and lifted his leg against the trellis.

  Fancie went out the back door and down the stone path. Luke opened the door. “Okay, Barney.” He blinked. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “How are your folks?”

  It touched her that this was his first question. “Mama’s the same. Daddy’s coming home this afternoon. I was wondering if you had a little time to give me a hand.”

  He stepped back from the door as the dog slid in past his legs. “Come in. I just made coffee.”

  They sat at the familiar kitchen table. Fancie thought of how many times she’d sat right here with her grandparents and then with her grandmother Bitsy. Oh, God. She’d have to try to explain to Bitsy what had happened.

  “Cream, two sugars—right?” Luke set a mug of coffee before her.

  “Yes.”

  He filled his mug and sat across from her. “What can I do to help?”

  She explained about rearranging the den and having a hospital bed delivered.

  “You’ll want to get a shower chair, too, so he can sit. Is there a shower on the first floor?”

  “Yes. The den was once a bedroom for my great-grandmother before Daddy turned it into his office. There’s a full bath and shower. That’s a good idea about the chair. How did you think of that?”

  “My dad broke his leg falling off a ladder a few years ago. You might want to get a potty chair to keep by the bed so he doesn’t have to go so far.”

  She laughed. “Trust me, there is no way James Hollensby is going to agree to use a potty chair. I hope they give him crutches and teach him how to use them. The wheelchair won’t fit through the bathroom door.”

  “Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

  “No. I’m not very hungry.”

  “I was about to make pancakes. You sure I can’t tempt you?”

  “Pancakes? You make pancakes?”

  He grinned. “I’m a self-sufficient bachelor. I had to learn to cook or I’d starve.” He moved with ease about the kitchen as he mixed batter and dropped it onto the griddle with a sizzle.

  The pancakes, topped with sliced banana and chopped pecans, made her drool. “These are so good. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Fancie stared at him over her coffee cup. He looked adorable in rumpled flannel pajama bottoms, a grey tee shirt, and with his hair standing out in all directions. He looked snuggly. Warmth filled her and she needed to shift the track of her thinking. “What’s on your agenda for the day?”

  “I’m working here organizing some notes. So my time is quite flexible. After breakfast, I’ll take a quick shower and then I’m all yours.”

  She flushed at the implications of that sentence.

  “Are you okay?” He stared at her with concern. “You’re not allergic to pecans, are you? You’re all flushed.”

  “I’m fine.” She gulped the orange juice he’d set in front of her. “I’m exhausted and I need a shower, too.” She pushed the empty plate away and stood. “I can do the dishes before I leave.”

  “You will not. Go, take your shower, I’ll be over in about twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Thank you.” She started out the door and then turned. “Oh, I’ll need my bags. Where are they?”

  “Still in the Jeep. Let me pull on jeans and give you a hand.”

  “I can get them. Thanks.”

  She dragged the carry on and the suitcase from the Jeep and into the house. Moments later, warm water cascaded down her body. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Knotted muscles relaxed. So did her resolve. The shock and worry rushed to the surface. She leaned against the shower stall, hugging her middle, while she cried. Everything had shifted in an instant. She had nearly lost her parents, could have lost her brother. And she was pretty sure she’d lost one of her best friends because she had no idea how she would be able to forgive Ashley.

  She and Luke managed to push the large wooden desk against the wall and make space for the hospital bed that was to be delivered in the afternoon. Fancie made sandwiches and soup for lunch and they sat in the kitchen.

  “How is your research going? Or has the chaos of my family totally distracted you?” she asked.

  “It’s been wonderful staying here as a home base and you have a great family. I have learned that you can’t always trust the first-hand information you get from some folks, though.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, some of us Confederates have our own version of the Civil War. When do you think you’ll finish?”

  “I have to wrap things up before Christmas. I start teaching again after the New Year.”

  “Oh. That’s just a few weeks.”

  “Yes. My time here’s gone too quickly. I didn’t get to research everything. I’ll have to come back, maybe over spring break.”

  “You’ll be welcome any time.”

  The doorbell rang. “Probably the bed delivery.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll clear the dishes.” Luke stood and collected their plates and glasses.

  Fancie stood in the makeshift hospital room and stared at the bed. Tears blurred her vision. She’d come so close to losing her family.

  “Fancie?” Luke stood beside her.

  She sniffled. “I’m sorry. What?”

  He looked at her face and put an arm around her. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. Thanks, you’ve been a huge help today. I’m sure you have work to do.”

  “If you need help when your dad comes home, just give me a shout. If you need five minutes outside this house, my door’s open.”

  She nodded and accepted the tissues he placed in her hand.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “It just all hit me when I looked at that bed. I’m okay.”

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  “You’re such a nice guy. How is it you’re still single?”

  He laughed. “Lucky, I guess.” Then he shook his head. “Just kidding. I haven’t met the right one.” He lifted his arm away. “Well, I should go. If it’s all right with you, I’ll stop by later and say hello to your dad.”

  “Sure.”

  She walked with him to the back door and watched as he disappeared into the cottage. It was odd the way she felt his absence so keenly. His arm around her had felt natural. She pressed her fingertips to the shoulder he had squeezed. When she thought about it, Luke Campbell was a lot like her father—a gentle, considerate, hardworking and handsome man. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Tripp.

  “Fancie, they’re releasing Dad in about an hour. Can you pick us up?”

  “I’ll be there shortly.” She placed two sets of towels in the bathroom and quickly made up the bed the best way she could with the sheets available. Not the best fit, but they’d have to do. She took the framed photo of her parents that sat on their nightstand and placed it on the table next to the bed. A small attempt at bringing normal into the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fancie stepped outside onto the front porch. She’d been cooped up in the house most of the week hovering over her father. The indigo sky displayed a blanket of stars. Her exhale emerged in a fog in the December chill. She wrapped her arms around her body, thinking she should go back inside for a jacket, but not wanting to move. She needed this moment of quiet, a chance to breathe, some distance from the pain inside the house.

  She walked to the far end of the porch and glanced back toward the cottage. Lights shone in the front windows. Luke must still be up, probably reviewing his research notes f
rom the day. Without a second thought, Fancie descended the steps and followed the stone path to his front door. She hesitated before knocking. What was she doing here?

  The door opened and Luke stood there in a pair of faded jeans and a Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt. “I thought I heard someone and then Barney barked.”

  She drew her hand back and held it against her chest. Suddenly she felt as if she might explode. Tears she had been holding for days stung her eyes.

  Luke studied her with concern. “Hey, what’s going on?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Come in. It’s cold out there.”

  She stepped forward, stumbling over the threshold. Luke caught her and held her against him as she dissolved in sobs.

  Hiccupping as she tried to breathe, she said, “Shit. Shoot, I’m so sick of this.”

  “It’s okay.” He tightened his hold and she sank into the warmth of him. His hand moved in gentle, comforting circles on her back. “Want to tell me what happened?”

  Fancie pulled back, sniffling. “Do you have a tissue?”

  “I have an entire box. Come on, let’s sit down.” He led her to the sofa.

  The house was familiar and held so many good memories—times she sought out her grandmother for comfort or her grandfather for advice. The same sofa where she’d sat and told her grandmother about her engagement to Graham. Fancie accepted a wad of tissues, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  “Do you need a drink? A glass of water?” Luke asked.

  She shook her head. “I wish I knew what I need.”

  He sat beside her. “You’ve been through a rough couple of weeks. How’s it going with your dad?”

  “He’s different. He’s so worried about Mama and Tripp. I am, too. But my dad’s always been the one to take care of us and right now he can’t. It’s killing him.”

  “I can imagine. How is your mom?”

  “She’s doing better, but faces weeks of rehab. We can bring her home and have a physical therapist come in, or she’ll have to go to a facility. You can guess what Dad is opting for. I need to call Dr. Archer. There’s no way I can return to New Hampshire now. It’ll be months before Mama is back on her feet. She and Daddy, both.”

  “Perhaps he can have someone fill in for the remainder of the semester for you.”

  “I can’t ask him to hold the position open when I have no idea when or if I’ll return.”

  Luke nodded. “I know he’ll understand. I’m so sorry. It sounded like you were starting to enjoy life in Henniker.”

  She smiled weakly. “I was once I got past being homesick. But family is more important.” Then she dissolved in tears again. She was so exhausted.

  His strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest and let all the fear, disappointment and sadness go.

  When her crying wound down, he tugged more tissues from the box and handed them to her. Fancie pulled away and noticed the huge wet spot on his shirt. “I’m so sorry. I’ll wash that for you.”

  “Not a problem. Will you be all right for a minute? I think we could both use a drink. I have an open bottle of Chardonnay.”

  She nodded.

  Luke went to the kitchen and returned with two wine glasses half-filled with the pale pink liquid. He handed one to her. “Just sip this.” He sat again beside her.

  The alcohol warmed her all the way to the pit of her stomach. Luke’s kindness and closeness warmed her in other ways. She reminded herself that he could be a friend, nothing more. “I don’t know why I came out here. It’s just that this has always been the place I’ve come to for comfort.”

  He took hold of her hand. “You needed a friend. You’ve been carrying this on your shoulders alone. Your dad can’t do a lot right now. I haven’t seen your brother around much.”

  “And my best friend is responsible for the accident. Let’s not forget that.”

  “Have you seen or spoken with Ashley?”

  Fancie shook her head. “I can’t. What would I say? She’s always driven like hell on wheels. We all knew it was just a matter of time before she had a serious accident.” She met his gaze. “I don’t even know how to feel about her right now.”

  “That’s understandable. And painful, I imagine, being in that position.”

  She took another sip of wine. “It’s hard to talk about this with Charity, Chas and Mikayla. They’re in the same position—torn between what happened to my family and a lifelong friendship with Ashley.”

  “Then talk to me. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

  In spite of how badly she felt, her mouth quirked up into a smile. “Who told you that?”

  He smiled back. “Maybe I imagined it.”

  “No, you didn’t. You are a good listener.”

  Barney stood at the door and whined. Luke got up. “I’d better let him out. I’ll be right back.” He called the dog to follow him to the back door where the small yard was fenced.

  When Luke returned, Fancie finished her drink and stood. “It looks like you were working. I’m sorry I interrupted. I should go.”

  Luke shook his head. “Nothing important. You want a refill?”

  She hesitated and then nodded. “Sure. Why not?” She needed to be with someone who wouldn’t tell her how to feel, assure her everything would be fine and had no vested interest in the outcome of things.

  “I have to leave at the end of next week to return to Henniker and then I’m driving to my parents’ house for Christmas.”

  “If you need to rent out my room, I can have Kinley come by and pack up my stuff. Oh, but there’s my car. I’ll have to fly up and get it, but I can’t leave for any length of time until I’m sure my mother is settled and doing okay.”

  “I don’t need the room. I’ll leave your car in the garage out of the weather and you can come anytime.”

  Her eyes filled again. “You’re so kind. So easy.”

  He laughed. “Don’t start that rumor now.” Barney barked and scratched at the back door. “Be right back.”

  Fancie sat back against the soft pillows on the sofa. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back. Her body relaxed for the first time in days. She awoke to a darkened room. A soft glow came from a nightlight in the kitchen. Her grandmother’s hand knit afghan covered her. She blinked and sat up. The time on the cable box beneath the TV read 2:27. She looked over to where a form filled the recliner. Luke lay sprawled in the reclined chair, covered with a blanket, and Barney lay on the floor next to the chair.

  Fancie stood and folded her blanket. Barney lifted his head and Fancie pressed a finger to her lips as if he could understand her signal to stay quiet. He stood, but didn’t bark. Then she took a step and bumped the coffee table with her shin. The empty wineglass toppled with a clink, but thankfully didn’t shatter.

  Luke sat up. “You okay?”

  “I am. Why didn’t you wake me and send me home? My dad’s probably worried sick.”

  “He’s not. I called and told him you were here, that you dozed off on the sofa. He said to let you sleep because he knows you haven’t slept much in the past week. He promised to call if he needed help.”

  “Why didn’t you go to bed?”

  “Because I figured if you woke up, you’d be confused about where you are and think you had to leave. Why don’t you go in to bed and get some sleep? I’m fine right here.”

  “No. You should go to your bed and I’ll go home.”

  He gazed up at her. “Do I look uncomfortable here? I fall asleep in this chair more times than I’d care to admit. Take advantage of the quiet and the space and get a good night’s sleep.”

  The thought was appealing to her. Being in her parents’ house forced all the worry and concern back into her mind. Nights had been fitful if not sleepless since the accident. “Are you sure? I have to admit this is the best I’ve slept in a while. I always did find Grandma Bitsy’s house comforting.”

  “My tee shirts are in the top drawer, if you want something else to slee
p in. Make yourself at home.” He settled back into the recliner and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Fancie.”

  She watched him for a moment in the dim light—the tousled hair, long legs, and the strong planes of his face. He was kind, handsome, and very appealing. She sighed. Too bad they could have nothing more than friendship.

  She considered sleeping in her clothing, but opted for his offer of a tee shirt. The soft grey shirt bearing the college logo hung to just above her knees. She crawled in between the sheets and beneath the quilt that was probably handmade by her great grandmother. Sleep claimed her again the moment she settled her head on the pillow.

  Darkness pulled her down. She was moving or in a moving vehicle. She was being tossed from side to side and everything around her was pitch black. Voices cried out, including her own. A loud crash, then she and the others were rolling and tumbling. She heard her mother scream and her father call out, “Alicia!” Then she heard Ashley shout, “It’s not my fault.”

  Someone gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her from the darkness. Fancie opened her eyes, a scream still on her lips. She blinked into the pale light and looked up at Luke.

  “It’s okay. It’s a nightmare. I’ve got you.” He slid down onto the bed beside her and pulled her against him. “It’s okay.”

  She trembled and snuggled into his embrace.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I was there. In the truck with them. It was awful.”

  “Shhh. You’re okay.” He stroked her hair.

  When her breathing returned to normal, she pulled back and stared up at his face.

  Concern filled his eyes. “Have you had this nightmare before?”

  “Almost every night. I try to stay awake so I won’t scream and scare the wits out of my father. He needs his rest.”

  “You need rest, too.”

  Heat flooded her face. “I have a confession. I came over here after you left yesterday and ended up napping on the sofa. I always came here to my grandmother when I was troubled.”

  “That explains the smell.”

  She frowned. “Excuse me?”

  He laughed. “I should say the scent. I laid down on the sofa last evening and all I could smell was lavender. And then, earlier this evening, I smelled it again.” He leaned over and sniffed her hair. “That explains it.”