Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe. Nancy Bush

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      Chapter 17

      They drove through the town of Rock Springs around four o’clock, the August sun hot on lawns of bleached grass and two-lane asphalt roads shimmering with heat, giving the illusion they were slick with water. The original clapboard buildings from the late 1800s had been mowed down and replaced along the edge of the small stream that ran behind the buildings. Garrett Hotel had been rebuilt in its original style though the Garretts were long gone and the Danners, the other family so prominent when the town was first getting started, had all but moved away, too.

      Liv knew of the local history from placards around parks and street names and varying school pageants that had celebrated the town and its inception. Now she looked out the Jeep’s window, her chest constricted. She hadn’t been back since she was sent to Hathaway House. Albert and Lorinda had moved while she was a patient, and she’d never seen fit to return.

      But Patsy and Barkley Owens still lived here. Not all that far from the small house where Deborah Dugan had supposedly taken her own life.

      They passed the east end of the town and Liv got a glimpse of Fool’s Falls as it rushed in a froth down a cliff-face into the stream that ran behind the town and meandered on its way to the city of Malone.

      It was strange to be here. She felt disembodied. Moving through a place she’d only lived in a dream.

      Auggie pulled up to a curb near Patsy and Barkley Owen’s address. “You ready?” he asked as he switched off the engine.

      “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

      Liv had placed a call to Patsy, saying she’d been given her address by Everett LeBlanc and that she was Deborah Dugan’s daughter. Patsy had sucked in a short gasp of breath, waited five seconds, then choked out an invitation to come by.

      So, here they were.

      She stepped out of the car and shaded her eyes. There weren’t many trees on this street, but from the looks of the roots and stumps, there once had been. Her T-shirt was sticking to her back and she was glad it was dark blue, so maybe her sweating was less noticeable to others.

      Auggie’s T-shirt, dark gray, was also sticking to him. It was growing ever hotter as the day moved on.

      Liv searched her feelings and realized that dread was the overriding one. Meeting Everett had taken a lot of energy and now with Patsy, she just felt zapped. Maybe it was an improvement over paranoia and fear, although those emotions were just below the surface along with an abundance of sexual desire. She was awash in emotions after trying for years to forcefully shut them down.

      The walkway to the front porch was tidy, the dry grass edged, clipped short, and sporting more brown patches than green. The Owens weren’t wasting water, except maybe on the two window boxes of petunias that flanked the front door and looked a little worse for wear from the beating sun.

      Auggie rang the bell and stepped back and a few minutes later a trim, middle-aged woman with brown hair and green eyes opened the door. The cautious, almost bruised look around her eyes was hauntingly like Liv’s own expression; one she’d seen many times in the mirror. Liv looked at Patsy and she stared right back, and only when Auggie said, “May we come in,” did she seem to come to herself and step aside.

      “You’re . . . ?” she asked Auggie.

      “Olivia’s friend,” was his terse reply.

      “Barkley—my husband—is . . . um . . . coming home from work. He does maintenance at the golf course in Malone and usually sticks around on Sunday in case something goes wrong, but . . . he thought I might need him . . .”

      Liv drew a deep breath and said, “I’m really sorry to just burst in on you.” Then she handed her the package, explaining about the birth certificate and photos within it. She’d transferred the note from her mother to a pocket of her backpack, deeming it too personal to share with her birth parents.

      Patsy seemed glad for the distraction of the birth certificate and photographs. She was apparently finding it as hard to meet Liv’s eyes as it was for Liv to meet hers.

      “I don’t know any of them,” she said at length. “Well, other than your adoptive parents. I’ve always known who they were.”

      “I’m looking for Dr. Frank Navarone,” Liv added. “I believe he’s the man trying to grab the camera from the picture taker.”

      She sifted through the photos until she found the one Liv meant. Frowning down at the picture, she said without lifting her head, “I don’t know him.”

      “I was thinking he was maybe from around here. . . .”

      “I wish I could help you.” She handed the pictures back, then clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles showed white. After a moment, she said, “I didn’t want to give you up, y’know? Everett and I were so young, and we were penniless and didn’t know the first thing about building a life. We were kids!”

      Liv regarded her helplessly. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to stir things up.” She wanted to add, It doesn’t matter, but since it clearly did to Patsy, she knew how insensitive that would sound. Even though Deborah had only been Liv’s mother for a few short years, she would be her mother forever. Patsy was a stranger.

      “Would you like something to drink?” she said. “I’ve got fresh lemonade.”

      “Thanks, but I don’t want to trouble you. . . .”

      She was already gone, and while they heard her open the refrigerator Liv looked to Auggie.

      In her ear, he said quietly, “I think we’ve hit a dead end. She’s on her own track.”

      “I can’t just up and leave,” Liv whispered back.

      “Okay. But I sense minefields ahead. . . .”

      Patsy returned with a tray holding three glasses of lemonade. Liv and Auggie each took a glass and thanked her. “Sit down,” she invited. “Please.”

      Liv took a chair across from the loveseat where Patsy sat after putting the empty tray on the coffee table. Auggie sat on the only other chair, a wooden rocker with a needlework cushion.

      “I had serious second thoughts about adoption. I told myself I was doing the right thing, but how do you ever know? After you were born, I went to the adoption agency to . . . I don’t know . . . change things, if I could. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I didn’t have money for a lawyer. There was a young woman at the agency who got the files confused and thought I was the adoptive mother, not the birth mother. She said Deborah Dugan’s name before she realized her error. I pretended not to notice. She hustled me out of there, was probably afraid she’d lose her job and all that, but I just left. I didn’t forget the name, and I . . . well . . . I followed Deborah for a while. I kept tabs on her and your father and you.” She half-smiled. “Everett and I split up soon afterwards, but I always thought I had the Dugans, y’know? Like they were my friends. I could see you from afar, and your little brother?”

      “Hague,” Liv said.

      “He was so cute. And you were so lively and outspoken. Fierce.” She smiled, remembering.

      Liv shifted СКАЧАТЬ