Beneath a Southern Sky - By Deborah Raney Page 0,96
met Dr. Camfield?”
They lobbed questions at her one after another, and suddenly she understood. The media had somehow gotten wind of their story and, if these people had their way, her face would be seen on every television in the state.
Ignoring them, she ducked her head and plowed through the gauntlet of reporters and photographers and somehow got inside Nathan’s room.
Twenty-Eight
Cole rubbed the stubble of his unshaven cheeks with trembling hands. The two-day growth of whiskers made his own face feel foreign to him. He raked his hands through a head of grimy, disheveled hair and carried a bowl of corn flakes and a cup of coffee into the living room of Travis’s apartment.
He plopped down at the cluttered desk that overlooked the driveway. In the distance a field of tender young wheat rippled in the April sun. The elm trees that lined the drive burgeoned with pale leaf buds, and the lawn was turning green with the recent rains.
He wondered what Daria was doing at this moment. It was Monday, barely three days since their world had been turned upside down.
Daria had left for Kansas City yesterday to see Nathan. Natalie was at the Haydons’, although yesterday Daria had offered to bring her to Travis’s to stay the night with Cole. He had declined, telling her that he’d just have to take her back to the Haydons when he went to work. It was an excuse. In truth, he didn’t know if he could bear seeing the little girl again if he was just going to lose her in the end. He had told Daria that he would never give Natalie up and yet, in reality, he was already withdrawing from her. He knew subconsciously that he was preparing himself for the possibility that he might lose her altogether.
He daydreamed of going to the Haydons’, getting Natalie, and just taking her off somewhere. He would never actually go through with it. He wouldn’t harm Natalie for the world, and he would never do anything to hurt Daria. Still it frightened him that his imagination had actually allowed him to entertain the thought of kidnapping.
It was too hard to think about losing her. He massaged his temples and picked up the newspaper, trying to force his thoughts elsewhere. Instead he found himself wondering again what Daria was doing. She had probably seen Nathan by now. Was there still a spark between them? He wondered if a person could still be in love with someone they’d already buried and mourned. If Bridgette were to suddenly appear in his life again, he didn’t think he could suddenly stop loving Daria and conjure up the love he’d once had for his first wife, no matter how deep it had been. But then theirs had been a difficult love. And he didn’t have a child with Bridgette—at least not a living child—that bound them together the way Natalie bound Nate and Daria.
He folded back the last page of the front section of the Kansas City Star and realized that he couldn’t remember one word he’d read. Absent-mindedly, he opened the local news section, and a headline jumped off the page at him: KANSAS WOMAN TORN BETWEEN TWO LOVERS. He broke into a cold sweat as he read the subheading—FIRST HUSBAND THOUGHT DEAD, RETURNS FROM CAPTIVITY IN COLOMBIA—and realized that the crass headline referred to their story.
His stomach churning, Cole scanned the story. They had obviously not interviewed anyone directly involved. The article quoted “sources at the hospital” and stated that “the families refused to comment.” He shook his head in disgust. As if things weren’t difficult enough without this becoming a media circus. He wondered if any reporters had tried to reach him at the clinic. He hadn’t gone in to work Monday, but he thought surely Carla or Travis would have called him if someone from the Star had been looking for him.
Grabbing the rolled-up copy of the Wichita Eagle from the floor by the stairway where Travis had dropped it, he stripped off the elastic band. Spreading it out on the kitchen table, he hurriedly paged through, searching desperately to see if the injurious headline had made that paper as well. He didn’t find anything. Picking the Star up, he skimmed the story again. It didn’t have a UPI or AP tag, so it was most likely a local story. But it did mention “Bristol, a small town in south-central Kansas.” That alone would probably ensure that the Eagle would be all