In A Heartbeat. Janice Johnson Kay
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they were having without him? Irritated, Nate answered nonetheless.
“Sonja?”
“Nate, you know we were visiting a riverside park.” Her voice shook. “Molly sneaked away and waded out into the river. She...she got pulled out into the current. One of the fathers went in after her and managed to push her to a gravel bar. But Nate...he didn’t make it out. This man I don’t know died to save our daughter.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“And you couldn’t even answer your phone!”
Sidestepping the accusation, he said, “Molly. Is she okay?”
“She’s hysterical, how do you think she is?” Sonja’s voice was thickened by what had likely been a storm of tears. “We’re on our way to the hospital. She swallowed water and... I don’t know. She wants her daddy,” she said bitterly.
He seriously doubted Molly had expressed any such desire. Since the divorce, she’d grown increasingly shy with him. Each time he took her for a weekend, she acted as if she was being palmed off on a stranger.
He said simply, “Overlake Hospital?”
Background voices told him Sonja wasn’t alone with their daughter, thank God. She came back. “Yes.”
He strode out of the office. “I’m on my way. Wait for me there.” Pausing only to tell his assistant that he had an emergency, he went down the hall to the elevator.
As it dropped to the parking garage, Nate saw that he had missed texts, too. He’d felt the phone vibrating, but that was normal—texts piled up all day. This time, there were three from Sonja. The last one was all caps, multiple exclamation points.
MOLLY ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!!! WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE????
Shit.
At least it was early enough that traffic should still flow. Tension riding him, he pushed the speed limit, weaving in and out, risking a ticket during this reverse commute to the Eastside of Lake Washington. Molly almost died because of you!!! What about the man who’d rescued his daughter? Had somebody really died, or had that been Sonja hyperbole?
Pain shot up his neck, wrapping around his temples and forehead. Fear, regret, guilt—they all churned in his belly.
He didn’t make it out. This man I don’t know died to save our daughter.
Overlake Hospital overlooked Highway 405 in Bellevue. Even so, after exiting the freeway Nate had to make several turns before he reached the parking garage beneath the hospital. Frustrated at each red light, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. In the garage, he took the first available open slot, ran for the elevator and rode up to the ground-floor emergency services.
A dozen people sat scattered throughout the waiting room, but Nate saw Sonja and Molly immediately, merged into one with his daughter on Sonja’s lap, head on her shoulder.
Sinking into the chair beside them, he said huskily, “Kiddo. How are you?”
The distress in Molly’s big eyes felt like a sucker punch to Nate’s belly. Instead of answering, she buried her head against her mother’s neck so she didn’t have to see him. Maybe it hadn’t been a punch. A knife twisting, instead.
Staring straight ahead, Sonja didn’t want to look at him, either, but she said in a near monotone, “The doctor says she swallowed a lot of water, that’s all. Mostly, she was petrified. I’d take her home, except I was too upset to drive. My car is still at the park. I’ll have to take a taxi.”
He ignored that. Of course he wouldn’t let her take a taxi, and she knew it. “What about the man? Was he brought here, too?”
Very slowly her head turned. Her eyes blazed, her lip curled. “So they could bring him back from the dead?”
The air left his lungs in a whoosh. “He really died?”
“You think I just said that?”
“No. I hoped they’d pulled him out.”
“They did. Dead.”
A man had died rescuing Nate’s daughter. Because I wasn’t there.
“Who is—” Oh, hell. “Who was he?”
“Kyle Grainger. His son, Josh, was in Molly’s class last year. Both of Josh’s parents came today.”
The searing words were bad enough, but the hatred in her eyes...
No wonder Molly had become so skittish around Nate. What had Sonja been telling his daughter about him?
“Is she here?” he managed to say. “Josh’s mother?”
“How would I know?”
What would he have said, anyway? I’ll come to your husband’s funeral in thanks for him saving my kid’s life?
“All right,” he said. “We can go pick up your car if you feel up to driving. If not, I’ll take you home. If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll have somebody bring it to your place.”
“Mr. Fixit,” she jeered. “But why not? Molly needs to go home, not drive all over the county.”
She was right, of course. Maybe he did suck at being a parent. He loved his daughter, though, and he’d have sworn she loved him, too. He worked long hours, but he’d spent a great deal of his off time with Molly. The one who had been shorted was Sonja, but he’d expected her to understand. But, hey, probably his marriage had been over a lot longer than he’d known.
Standing, he reached out for Molly. “Let me carry her.”
“No!” Shielding their little girl with her body, Sonja struggled to her feet. “She needs her mother. Just take us home. Then you can go back to work.”
Aware that people were staring, he clenched his teeth and said nothing. He might go back to work. Clearly, Sonja wouldn’t be inviting him in so he could talk to Molly about her terrifying experience. His beautiful house wasn’t much anymore but a place where he slept. He’d have happily let Sonja have it, but she’d wanted only money.
“If I stayed in this house, I’d keep thinking you might walk in the door anytime.” Her ringing endorsement of their marriage.
He walked beside his ex-wife and daughter down the corridor to the elevator. Molly clung to her mother and didn’t once look at him.
They had the elevator to themselves until it stopped at the lobby level, where the doors opened. A lone woman waited, blond hair falling out of an elastic, strands straggling around her too-pale, fine-boned face. She looked drained, as if she couldn’t summon the will to so much as step into the elevator even if she had pushed the button to call it.
Instinct drove Nate to take a step toward her. As he did, her vacant stare shifted from him to Sonja and Molly. Horror took over her face. Her eyes fastened on him, and she lurched back. The next thing he knew, she was hurrying away, walking faster and faster.
The elevator doors tried to close but bounced back open with him in the way. He didn’t move. It tried again, and finally he stepped back.
Not looking at Sonja, he said, “That was her, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
An impassive expression was his default. Inside, he’d been shredded. His heart raced. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way the new widow had looked at him.
THE MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN gazed at Anna with unmistakable pity. “You weren’t aware your husband cashed out his retirement fund?”
Given the past weeks, she’d grown increasingly numb, unable to feel much other than a crawling sense of fear. Pity couldn’t