Page 38 of A Very Barrie Christmas
“It’s Nate. I just got off the phone with him a few minutes ago. I’m afraid I had to give him some bad news.”
“What sort of bad news?” The new French roast turned out to be a little bitter kind of bad news? Or an entire crop of Brazilian beans was decimated by coffee berry borers—the bane of every farmer’s livelihood—kind of news?
“One of his friends in the shelter was in an accident a few days ago. Someone he was mentoring. He’s in critical condition. Nate took it pretty hard.”
Drat. The poor kid. The bad news definitely rivaled a coffee borer–level catastrophe. Maybe worse.
“What can I do?”
“Keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s okay. He, uh, had an issue a while back. I didn’t mention it because it hasn’t been a concern for over a year.”
“What kind of issue?” Frank’s pulse quickened. He didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“Prescription sleeping pills.”
Frank scrunched his eyes shut. He was afraid it would be something like that.
“I hate that my thoughts are even going down this road,” Susan admitted, sniffling. “I trust Nate. I really do. At least, I want to. But there was something in his voice when we got off the phone. I don’t know how to describe it. But it scared me enough to call you.”
Frank opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the hallway leading to his bedroom—where he kept his medications. “Thanks for the call. I’ll check on Nate. He’s in good hands.” He didn’t offer her false assurances like Bevy might have. He imagined his wife would say something like,Don’t worry, everything will be fine. But Frank couldn’t promise that.
He wanted to believe in the boy. Private Henderson had given him every reason to trust him explicitly. And yet, tragedy—especially concerning a close friend—could do funny things to a man. It could tie him into knots until up looked like down and down looked like up.
He replaced the receiver and shuffled into their bedroom, heading straight for Bevy’s nightstand. She insisted on keepinghis sleeping pills on her side, since he apparently couldn’t be trusted to take them.
He yanked open the drawer. He’d find the pills and rule out Susan’s suspicion. Moving aside Bevy’s Bible, an extra pair of reading glasses, and stack of paperbacks, he found several plastic bottles with her name on them, but no sleeping pills.
His heart rate accelerated again, much too fast for a man his age. Maybe Bevy accidentally put them away in his nightstand? He ambled across the room and checked his side of the bed, aggressively rummaging through his belongings with a single-minded focus.
Where were the pills?
He grabbed an orange bottle from the back of the drawer, squinting at the label. Why did they make the font so small?
Heart medication.Drat. He flung the bottle over his shoulder onto the bed, and immediately grabbed another one.No luck. He checked several more, then jerked the drawer from the nightstand and spilled the contents onto the quilted comforter.
Still no sleeping pills.
He moved the hunt to the bathroom, flinging open every drawer and cupboard willy-nilly, like a burglar in search of priceless jewels.
He had to find the pills somewhere. Because the alternative—that Nate had taken them—simply couldn’t be true.
CHAPTER 28
JULIET
Juliet chewed her French-tipped nail, staring at the Send button. Was she really going to risk submitting a romance novel to her editor? She’d respectfully explained the change in direction in the body of the email, begging for Debra to at least read the first few pages of her manuscript before tossing it in the slush pile, where submissions went to die. She’d also included a one-page proposal and a three-page synopsis. She’d stopped short of including the birth rights to her firstborn child, not convinced it would hold much sway with the single workaholic, anyway.
She thought back to Nate’s words of encouragement from earlier. He’d given her permission to tell his story. He trusted her. Maybe it was time she trusted herself?
With a deep, shuddering breath, she hit Send. The email jetted into the Ethernet.
She did it! No takesies-backsies.
Now, for the hard part.
She pulled out her cell.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Her mother answered on the first ring. She never answered on the first ring.
