The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,10
he had read her mind. Feeling like a puppet on too-stiff strings, she slowly turned her head so that her unbandaged eye could see who was speaking. “Detective Reynolds? Luke?”
“That’s me.”
“Did you come to make fun of my bandages?”
“Maybe.”
“Honestly, Detective—”
“Nope. You are not allowed to start calling me detective again . . . just now you called me Luke. Now we’re on a first name basis.”
Only this man seemed to be able to push away her anxiety and turn all the tumbling feelings into spunk. “Ha, ha. If you aren’t here to tease me . . . why did you come?” Truly he hadn’t thought her cuts were a crime?
“I came because I had some time. And because I heard through the grapevine that you got yourself into a mess.”
“I didn’t get myself into anything. A glass bowl fell and broke.” Even though vanity was a sin, Frannie felt herself frown. “Now I’m a scratched-up mess.”
“You sure are. You are scratched up something awful.” Lowering his voice, he said, “Are you in a lot of pain? Do you want me to get you anything?”
“I’m all right.”
“Okay, then.” For some reason he took what she’d just said as an invitation to stay a while. As he walked closer, she could feel his gaze settle on her. “You look like a prizefighter.” And with that, he took a seat right next to her.
Even though he hadn’t been invited.
The immediate flood of happiness that she’d felt by his sudden appearance slowly gave way to dismay. “What are you doing?”
“This is called sitting in a chair, Frannie.”
Oh! “I mean, why are you here? Why, really?” Embarrassed about her warming feelings for him, she lashed out. “Detective, I am sorry. I cannot answer any questions from you right now.”
He stilled. “Did you really think I’d come here right now to question you about the case? Do you really think I’m that cold?”
She didn’t think he was cold at all.
But she also didn’t know why else he would have come all the way to the hospital to see her. Though she might have had secret wishes where he was concerned, he certainly didn’t need to know that. “I can’t think of why else you would be here.”
“You can’t, huh?” The tender look that she’d thought she’d spied in his eyes vanished. “Well, I only came because I was worried that you’d be alone here. And it looks like you are. Or, are you waiting on someone else to visit?”
She’d been tempted to tell him that there was no one else. But then she remembered her conversation with Beth.
Which made her think of Micah. Would he come? Did she even want him to? “I’m not sure if anyone else is coming or not. It ain’t easy to get here by buggy you know.”
“It’s easy enough to hire a driver, Frannie. Even I know that.”
While she lay there, slightly embarrassed for being so snippy, Luke’s voice turned gentle. “Where is your father?”
As usual, their topsy-turvy interactions made her mind spin. To buy herself some time, she said, “You’re only asking about my daed?”
“I, uh, discovered your mother passed away a few years ago.”
“Cancer,” she murmured, remembering those awful months all over again. It had been so difficult to keep her mother’s spirits up when the chemotherapy had made her so weak. “My daed, he is at home on the farm, I suppose.”
“He didn’t think he should come to the hospital and sit with you?”
“I don’t know if anyone has told him about my accident yet.” Or, for that matter, if the news would spur him to come.
Little by little, she felt the tension leave him. “I’m sorry. I remember now that Mose was going to pay a visit to your father and tell him the news and see if he wanted to come up here.”
Imagining her father leaving the safety of their farm was like imagining the detective suddenly feeling at home in Crittenden County. “It would be best if he stayed home.”
“Why? You don’t think he’d accept a ride from Mose?”
Frannie struggled to describe her father’s personality. “He’s a cautious man. Shy, too. He wouldn’t venture far unless he was truly needed.”
“And he isn’t needed right now?” His voice rose as he made no effort to conceal his confusion. “You’re badly injured, Frannie. ”
“I know.”
“Who knows how many cuts and stitches you received.”
The reminder made her face throb even worse. “I know,” she said again.
“He should be here for you. You shouldn’t be here alone.”