More Than We Remember Read online

  “Mrs. Kilbourn, someone will be right out. We’re going to have you wait in the family room upstairs.” The woman stood, her pink scrubs stretched too snug over her middle. “Do you have anyone coming to be with you?”

  Chills spread down Addison’s arms. She pulled her sweater tight. “It’s just me. I’m . . . alone.” Maybe she should call someone, but who? They’d lived in West Crow for such a short time. The idea of begging support from any of the women she’d known before the move felt like a step toward failure. She’d been a mom who knew the other moms, but they weren’t friends outside of that shared identity. Friendship took investment. It meant opening oneself up to the potential of embarrassment and rejection. And who had the time? Addison’s family was where she placed her value, not fitting in with the mom clique. It took an emergency to show her the importance of that missing asset.

  A boy dressed as a medical professional appeared from a door in the back. “Mrs. Kilbourn, I’ll take you upstairs.” A badge hung from the pocket of his shirt, giving a morsel of credibility to his baby-smooth face.

  Addison followed him down an empty hallway thick with the scent of antiseptic. Was this the place her carefully knitted life would begin to unravel? She’d gotten lax, drifting on a flimsy wave of security. It was her fault. If she’d been more watchful, guarded her family . . .

  The elevator door slid open, the young man holding one hand on its edge as he waited for her to enter. Each step was like pulling her legs through knee-deep mud. Closer and closer to what was coming next, to news she’d never be able to forget.

  Addison grasped the railing with both hands, her fingers clenching the metal as if it had the power to stop the elevator’s movement.

  “You probably don’t recognize me.”

  Addison looked up and met the young man’s eyes for the first time. There was something familiar there, hidden by a few years. She took in the name on his tag. Kevin Beck. Memories came flooding back. “Kevin. You’ve grown.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It had to happen eventually.” His smile reminded her of all the times Caleb had spoken of the boy with all the heart for the game of basketball, but none of the height or athletic ability.

  The elevator stopped, sending a wave of motion through Addison’s body.

  “I sure hope Coach is okay. I’m not supposed to mention knowing patients, but Coach is special. I’ll be praying for him.” He stepped into the hallway and motioned Addison through a door labeled Family Waiting Room.

  Addison let her hand cover his wrist. “Thank you, Kevin.” She blinked away a stubborn tear. “I appreciate that.”

  Kevin nodded, then turned away, letting the door swing shut and leaving Addison alone in a place where countless others had waited for news of their loved ones. What were the odds she’d be the one to get the good word?

  A vase of silk flowers sat on an end table at the edge of a neutral tone couch. Magazines were fanned out on a polished wood coffee table. The room was like a staged replica of someone’s living room, as if that would lighten the stress hanging in the air like a toxic cloud.

  Addison lowered herself onto the corner of the sofa and pulled the throw blanket from the back over her lap. She fingered the edge of a pillow before bringing it close, hugging the plush material tight to her middle.

  A large clock ticked on and on, a reminder of how alone she was. Her only ICE—the person she had listed to call “in case of emergency”—was Caleb. What would she do if he didn’t make it through this?

  Sounds from somewhere beyond the closed door caught her attention. Addison stood too quickly, and the room began to swim. She braced herself with one hand on the arm of the couch.

  Any hope she still gripped washed down her body and onto the floor as the door opened and a deputy stepped into the room. No compassion softened the woman’s hard face and no-nonsense eyes. She stole every ounce of confidence from Addison with one glare.

  “Mrs. Kilbourn, I’m Deputy Emilia Cruz. I’d like to ask you some questions about your husband.”

  Addison turned to the window. Bright sunlight creeping over the mountains gave the hospital grounds a warm glow, even as Addison’s skin tensed in the cold of the waiting room.

  “Ma’am? What can you tell me about your husband’s drinking problem?”

  The question sent Addison’s heart racing. She turned. “You’ve got the wrong man. My husband’s not a drinker.”

  Officer Cruz dropped her shoulders. A smile spread across her face, sweet and artificial enough to be an ad for Splenda. “I’m really sorry for all you’re going through. I’d like to get my information as quickly as possible. It makes it easier for everyone to move forward. I’m sure you want that as much as I do.”

  Addison tugged at her long hair, now twisted into a loose braid over her shoulder. There was never an easy way out of a mess. The one thing she knew for absolute certain was the fact that tragedy grew before it faded, and each incident left another scar on the lives it cut. “I can’t think of anything that would help you.”

  “Where was your husband coming from when he was in the accident?” Officer Cruz took a step closer, that sticky smile still smeared on her face.

  Addison shook her head. “He had dinner with a friend, Jeff. I don’t know where.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why is that?” Addison crossed her arms.

  “Can you give me Jeff’s last name?” Her pen was poised over the notebook, as if this information was somehow significant.

  Addison shook her head. “I can’t remember. We just moved into town. I haven’t gotten a chance to meet many people.”

  The door opened again, and a surgeon walked in, her shoes still covered with paper booties.

  Deputy Cruz snapped her notebook shut and exited the room without so much as an apology. As the door clicked shut, a small breath of hope returned to Addison.

  The surgeon introduced herself, then led Addison back to the couch. “Let’s go over what we’ve found so far.”

  Addison laced her fingers together, pressing her hands into her chin. “He’s alive?”

  “Absolutely. Your husband is a fighter. He’s also my nephew’s basketball coach.” She winked. “We need to get him back to work.”

  Addison relaxed into the cushions. “So he’s okay?”

  “I believe he will be. Your husband suffered some serious injuries.” She held an electronic tablet between them, a picture of a detailed skeleton on the screen. “The impact pushed the front end of the vehicle practically into the driver’s seat. Your husband sustained deep lacerations, as well as two bone fractures in his right leg.” She tapped the area of injury on the screen, then looked up. “I’ve seen much worse. I’d say he was pretty blessed the leg wasn’t further damaged. We’ll need to have the ortho guy repair the break. But first, we need to wait for Caleb to stabilize.”

  Tears stung Addison’s eyes.

  “We’ve stitched up a pretty significant laceration on his forehead. There doesn’t appear to be any bleeding or swelling in the brain, but you can expect him to have significant concussion symptoms for at least a few weeks.” She blew out a deep breath.

  “There’s more.” Addison rested her head on her hand.

  “A bit more. We found some bleeding from a tear in his liver. We’ve corrected that.” The doctor set the tablet on the table, then folded her hands. “Caleb’s blood was positive for a small amount of alcohol. Not enough to suggest impairment. But we also found oxycodone. The combination of the medication and the alcohol is a serious concern. I checked through his medical records, and I didn’t find anything about a prescription. Has your husband had an injury we’re not aware of?”

  Cold tingles swam over Addison’s skin. “That can’t be right. Caleb is the healthiest person I know. He won’t even take cold medicine. He always says the body knows how to heal itself.”

  “I had the test run twice. I’m so sorry.”

  Addison stood. “Can I see my husband?”

 
; “Soon. He’s waking up now. They’ll come get you once he’s in a room.”

  BRIANNE WOKE WITH a kink in her neck and a child staring down at her. She sprang from the couch, her feet hitting the floor, her hands rubbing at aching muscles.

  The little girl tipped her head to the side, wrapped a finger in the silk edging of her worn blanket, and smoothed the fabric across her cheek. “Who are you?”

  Brianne blinked and tried to get her bearings. Last night wasn’t a dream. She sifted through the haze of memories, placing them back into a kind of order in her mind. “I’m the neighbor. I . . .” She didn’t want to say too much, but finding a stranger asleep in your living room was a surprise that needed an explanation.

  “Breakfast.” Caroline’s voice broke the tension as it drifted in on the scent of bacon and coffee.

  “Grammy says we have to love our neighbors.” The girl’s mouth twisted. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Your mom had to go out. She asked if I’d stay.”

  Caroline entered, wiping her hands on a towel tucked into the belt of her apron. “Let’s not have this grub go cold now.” She motioned for them to follow.

  Brianne rubbed her hands over her face. Addison must have called and spoken with Caroline. Otherwise, the older woman would have been shocked by Brianne’s appearance here too.

  Brianne followed the child into the large kitchen, with a table and chairs at one end. Bright yellow walls gave an air of cheeriness. Copper pans shaped like chickens hung on either side of the sink. On the corner of the counter, a cookie jar squirrel watched the whole scene.

  Caroline pointed a crooked finger at her grandson, the middle of the three Kilbourn children. “Connor, get your mother a cup of coffee.”

  Brianne’s heart thudded. She swallowed.

  A girl who looked to be a very young teen took in Brianne from over the top of a thick novel.

  “Grammy.” The youngest child tugged at Caroline’s apron.

  “What is it, Lilly?”

  “That’s not Mom.” She turned Caroline toward Brianne.

  Caroline shook her head. “Of course not. Good morning, Britta. Do you like cream with your coffee?”

  “Yes.” The mistaken name hung in the air. If Brianne corrected her, it could take on power in the form of the woman’s embarrassment in front of her grandchildren. Surely it was just a slip of the tongue. Caroline Kilbourn had known Brianne since she was a toddler. “Cream would be wonderful. Can I help with anything?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re our guest this morning.” Caroline poured coffee into a mug, returned the carafe to the maker, then paused, staring into the black liquid.

  “Where did my mom go?” Lilly turned around in her chair, one leg dangling on either side of the back.

  Brianne held her tongue, waiting on Caroline for the answer, but the older woman had shifted her gaze to Brianne as though she waited for the response with as much interest as Lilly. “Didn’t she call home?”

  Caroline shrugged, rolling a dish towel between her fingers. “Maybe when I was out with the critters. I figured she and my boy went on an errand or something.”

  Awkward wasn’t a big enough word for the position Brianne was in. She eyed the back door as if running from the house would fix everything. All eyes were on her now, waiting for Brianne to choose between her two options. She could give them a watered-down version of last night’s ordeal, or she could give the dire and serious version.

  She trained her eyes on Lilly. “Your daddy had a bit of an accident last night. Your mom went to make sure he’s okay. She’ll call any minute.” Brianne looked at the silent phone on the wall, willing it to ring.

  ADDISON RUBBED THE heel of her hand against her eye, curbing the burn for a moment. She hadn’t been this sleep deprived since Connor’s colic-filled nights.

  Caleb’s face was pale, other than the purple bruises spreading across his right eye and cheek. A bandage covered the gash on his forehead, but swelling made the seriousness of the cut evident.

  Addison pulled a chair close and slipped her hand into his. She leaned her forehead against the cold metal rail.

  “Addy.” His voice rattled like a handful of pebbles in an old coffee can.

  “I’m here.”

  He moaned. “What happened?”

  “You were in an accident. Do you remember anything?”

  “No. Just packing.” His eyes were thin slits. He pushed up on one elbow and winced. “Where are the kids?”

  Pressing a hand gently to his shoulder, Addison guided her husband back onto the mattress. “The kids are fine. They’re at your mom’s.” She prayed that the neighbor would still be with them. “Packing? You remember moving there, right?”

  His lips tightened. “I remember the plan. Packing. But not getting there.”

  “We’ve been in the house for two weeks.” She looked at the man in the bed with the rough cheeks in need of a shave and the gentle eyes that brought her so much comfort. Thank God, he’d survived, but he would need a long time to recover. The entire construction season—not that she really cared about their new house now. Caleb’s injuries brought her priorities into realignment. There were countless hurdles coming his way, but Caleb didn’t need to know about any of them now. It could all wait.

  Tears glistened in his eyes. “No. We haven’t loaded the truck yet.” He lifted a hand to his head. The beep of his heart rate escalated on the monitor.

  So many questions swirled around Addison, but evidently Caleb wouldn’t be able to answer a single one. Where had he been? What took him out on that curving highway last night?

  “I need to get out of here.” He pulled on the guardrails, inching his way to the edge of the bed. Caleb’s right leg, bound tight in a temporary brace, nearly slid off the mattress. He flinched, his face tightening with the shock of pain.

  “No. The doctor wants to keep you here a few days.” Addison stood, holding him back.

  His breathing came in ragged puffs, like a man who’d climbed a mountain. “This isn’t right. I have to go. They’re telling you lies.”

  “What are you talking about? No one is telling me anything.” Did he somehow know about the allegations? Did he remember more than he was admitting? Addison removed one hand from her husband and pressed the call button.

  His hands tightened into fists, his shoulders raising toward his ears.

  “Hey now.” The nurse came around the other side of the bed. “What do you think you’re doing? You have fresh stitches and a liver that needs mending, plus that leg.”

  Caleb eased his head to the side, his gaze crossing over Addison, then the nurse.

  “Press that call button again, please.” The nurse nodded her head toward the edge of the bed.

  Addison punched it five times.

  Seconds later, another nurse came through the door.

  “Henry, can you get something to help Mr. Kilbourn settle down? The doctor put in orders.”

  A moment later, Henry was back with a syringe. He plunged the needle into the IV line and forced the liquid into the tube.

  Caleb’s muscles softened, and the three of them repositioned him in the bed.

  Addison groaned. “He seems so confused. So agitated. He doesn’t remember that we moved recently.”

  “Sometimes temporary memory confusion happens with concussions. And there can be a significant change in personality for a time. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Addison nodded, holding back the waves of tears that pounded behind her eyes.

  “It’s probably a good time for you to head home and take a break. He’ll be out for a few hours.”

  Addison squeezed her fingers around Caleb’s warm hand. His chest rose and fell, each time feeding her a morsel of comfort. Walking away from him now was like turning her back on the man who’d given her a life and a family. But the kids were waiting at home. They knew nothing except that their father hadn’t been there when they woke up. And a woman the kids had only seen fr
om a distance was there in their mom’s place. Addison needed to be the one who guided them through this, and she definitely needed to talk to Caroline. Why hadn’t Addison been able to wake her last night?

  Another layer of concern piled onto the bonfire growing in her chest.

  5

  Emilia tapped send on the final email. Her shift had officially ended at eight a.m., three hours earlier, but time didn’t slow just because a drunk took it upon himself to extinguish the life of an innocent mother. In the hours since the accident, Emilia had seen to the rescue efforts, informed three young men they were on their own in the world, collected evidence to use against Caleb Kilbourn, and filed so many reports, she wondered if she should have an honorary journalism degree.

  But even with all of that, her biggest challenge still waited at home. At least this was her last graveyard shift. Cline was back from vacation, allowing Emilia to return to the day shift.

  She tossed her sheriff’s department jacket over her arm and stepped into the already hot day. Instead of feeling revived by the sunlight, Emilia’s body softened into a sleepiness she’d have to fight as she drove home, and likely much longer.

  Her job wasn’t the day-after-day mountain of satisfaction she’d imagined when she started at the academy, but it paid the monthly bills and sometimes, when she got overtime, it made a dent against the loss of income they’d experienced since Roger landed on disability.

  Emilia climbed into her Honda Accord. The day lay over her like a lead apron, her feet throbbing from hours on the clock in a pair of not-yet-broken-in boots. But going home only meant the grind would begin. She took her time starting the car, even if all it bought was a moment or two.

  She drove through town with the radio off and the windows down. Air laced with the remnants of outdoor cooking and the delicate scents of summer flowers made her miss her childhood. She’d been free to roam this small town without much worry of danger, but big-city problems were leaching into this once safe place. Meth laced almost every legal issue in the county. And now heroin was making an appearance.