She retraced her steps to go inside. Passing the roses, she felt a hard shove between her shoulder blades. The blow knocked her forward. Her legs moved fast to avert a fall, but a slight dropoff unsteadied her even more. She put her hands out. She had to protect the baby.
She hit the ground on her right shoulder, then she was rolling down a steep slope that she hadn’t even known was there. Thorns tore at her bare arms and tangled in her hair. She tried to protect her stomach, but her body slammed from one spot to another and gathered speed as she tumbled down the hill.
Her head rammed into a large tree at the base of the hill and she came to a stop. Crumpled into a ball, she lay stunned with the world spinning around her. Her hands roamed her belly, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything. Then her knee cried out, and her shoulder groaned. The pain of her abrasions began to penetrate her numb state.
Get up. She had to get up. Make sure the baby wasn’t hurt. Groaning, she got onto her hands and knees and shook her head to clear it. Her blurry vision kept her from recognizing exactly where she was, though she saw trees marching off into total darkness to her right. The woods. She’d rolled down to the base of the woods.
She managed to claim her feet, though her legs trembled. Something trickled down her arm, most likely blood. Her hands cupped her belly. “Please, Lord, let the baby be all right,” she mumbled. There were no cramps, at least not yet. Maybe the baby was unharmed, but she needed to see a doctor and make sure.
Who had shoved her? She shuddered and turned to stare up the hill, an impossible slope to climb in her state. A figure appeared at the top, then started down. Out of the darkness, a man called her name. In Liam’s voice.
She strained to see. It was him. She recognized that walk, the way he held his head. Her knees crumpled, and darkness claimed her.
Seventeen
The baby. Alanna swam out of the darkness, her hand going to her belly. She struggled to sit up.
“Lie still until the doctor sees you,” said a male voice to her side.
Liam’s voice. Surely it was. She strained up, then opened one eye and stared into the face hovering over hers. Jesse, not Liam. Slumping back, she blinked against the moisture in her eyes. What had she expected—that Liam had come back from the dead?
“How do you feel?” Jesse crouched over her. He brushed mosquitoes from her arms. She still lay at the base of the tree.
Her hands roamed her stomach. “I-I don’t know.” Her arms and face throbbed from scratches, but she had no cramps or pain in her stomach. The baby was all that mattered to her. The other pain was a minor irritation.
Jesse brushed the hair back from her face. “The ambulance is on its way.”
“Where is Barry?”
“In the house, I assume. I rang 9–1–1 on my cell.”
“Help me sit up,” she said. The detective’s warnings rumbled around in her head. This man might have killed her husband. Was he trying to become Liam? The inflections in his voice suggested it, but she told herself to show no fear.
Had he shoved her down the hill?
“You need to lie still.”
She pushed away his restraining hand. “I must get to the house.” She managed to sit up, and her head swam. She waited until the spinning stopped, then struggled to her feet with his help. Before she could take a step, he swung her into his arms and started up the hill with her.
The scent of spearmint on his breath smelled like the same gum Liam used to chew. “It’s too steep,” she protested. “I can walk.”
He ignored her protest and continued to lug her up the slope with his breath growing more labored. When he reached the top, he paused to draw in a few deep lungfuls of air before heading toward the house.
“I can walk,” she said again, more convinced now that it was true.
Against her will, her fingers touched the curls at the base of his neck as she hung on for dear life. Liam’s had felt just this soft and springy. She jerked her hand away.
“Almost there,” he gasped.
“Put me down and go get Barry,” she commanded. All she wanted was to get away from this man who reminded her too much of Liam.
They reached the porch steps and he carried her up them to the front door, which he banged with his foot. Insects dive-bombed them from the porch light. The breeze changed direction, and she smelled his cologne, Irish Tweed, just like Liam used to wear. The scent angered her. How dare he think he could ever hope to match Liam? There was no one like her husband.
His wearing the cologne convinced her of all the detective had said. “Put me down!” she said in her fiercest voice.
He stopped banging the door with his foot and glanced down at her before carefully allowing her to gain her feet. It was a mistake. Her head spun again, and she swayed before grabbing his arm for support. She hated that she had to depend on him for any help.