“Sure,” he said. “I’ll take you. Let me make some calls.”
He helped her inside and got her a glass of water after she washed her face and hands in his bathroom. While she sipped the water, he made a couple of calls and found her a bed at an inpatient facility in Brookings.
“Why?” he asked as they headed out of town. Duke sat in the backseat with his chin resting on Tanya’s seat back. “I’m not complaining, but why now?”
She stared out the window. “I failed Duke. What kind of person can’t take care of an animal? Even animals take care of other animals. I couldn’t even do that.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to notice them, just lifted her hand to pat Duke’s head. “I can’t be a cop anymore. I’ve screwed that up forever. But I can be something. Somebody. I can be somebody.”
They pulled up in front of the treatment center. Tanya got out and smoothed her hands down the fronts of her jeans. “I’ll bring your stuff out tomorrow,” Lucas said.
She gave him a wry smile. “Best to get me here in case I change my mind.”
She wouldn’t change her mind this time. It would be tough, every day, for the rest of her life, but something inside her was different. Inspired, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the lost ring, the one Alana found, the one he’d been carrying around since she left, and held it out to Tanya.
“Grammie’s ring,” she said. Her hands flexed as if she’d reach for it, but then she folded her arms. “I thought it was gone.”
“Alana found it worked into one of the cracks in the foundation.”
“I can’t take it, Luc,” she said. “I can’t. I don’t . . . Grammie wouldn’t want me to have it.”
“Yes, she would,” he said. He tapped it on her forearm. “Grammie never gave up on anyone. She didn’t give up on you. I’m not giving up on you, either. Take it.”
Tears were rolling down Tanya’s cheeks. She unhooked the gold chain she wore around her neck, slipped the ring on, and refastened the chain. She gave Lucas one last hug, and walked down the hall.
? ? ?
IF TANYA COULD admit herself to rehab knowing she’d fight the addiction every day of her life and never get the job she always wanted . . . if Cody could agree to paint the mural knowing it might be the biggest project he ever took on . . . if Mrs. Battle and Mitch and Delaney Walker-Herndon could do the right thing for the town and the library, then Lucas could join the fight.
He knew what he had to do. He had to go get her. He had to bring her home.
15
ALANA PULLED INTO the driveway of the Senator’s house in Kenwood well after five. The Secret Service security detachment hadn’t changed in her absence. After a friendly wave, she parked behind the house, snagged her overnight bag, then walked up the landscaped patio to the back door.
Freddie stood in the kitchen, wearing a robe, her six-carat yellow-diamond engagement ring, and the fuzzy troll slippers Alana had gotten her as a gag gift three Christmases earlier. She had her iPhone in hand and her hair coiled into a knot at her nape. She squealed when she saw Alana and practically leaped across the kitchen to envelop her in a huge hug.
“You’re here! You’re finally here!”
“I’m here? You’re finally here. You’re the one who flew in from New Delhi for this party.”
Freddie pulled back and looked at her. “Are you okay?”
No. She hurt worse with every day she put between herself and Lucas, and Cody, and Mrs. Battle. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
The house felt too big. Everything about it felt wrong, the size, the gleaming modern kitchen, the view through the windows to the professionally landscaped backyard. Her apartment, dusty from disuse, felt equally wrong. No roses, no detached garage, no shared driveway that a battered Blazer would pull into for the sweetest reunion.
Freddie was staring at her. “Oh, God. You got entangled.”
“I did not get entangled.”
“Oh, honey,” Freddie said quietly. Her sister’s blue eyes, the mirror image of her own, showed a genuine concern. “Oh, honey.”
“Who’s entangled?”
Her mother appeared in the doorway leading to the parlor. She wore Chanel and had obviously just come from the salon. Alana tugged out of Freddie’s hug and crossed the slate floor to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. “You look lovely,” she said.
“Thank you,” her mother said, and eyed her jeans. “You’ve just enough time for a shower. Frederica and I chose a dress for you—”
“Jason Wu, very chic, perfect for your coloring,” Freddie added as she thumbed away at her phone.
“It’s upstairs in your room. Try to be ready in an hour, dear.”