Pepper was dead.
She had to get out of here. She had to find Cole and Phoebe. She had to make Mr. Barlow pay for what he had done. She tried to sit up but couldn’t. Her stomach and back screamed in pain, and her lungs rattled and wheezed. She opened her mouth to scream for help but started coughing instead. She covered her mouth and tried to stop, but couldn’t. Every bark sent a jolt of agony through her middle and she felt like she was being ripped in half. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. When she could finally take a breath without hacking, dark blotches of blood splattered the palm of her hand, and a warm, coppery taste filled her mouth. She touched her forehead with shaking fingers. She was burning with fever.
A key rattled in the door lock, the handle turned, and a woman entered the room.
It was Momma.
Using every ounce of strength she had, Lilly pushed herself up on her elbows, her heart thundering in her chest. Momma looked exactly the same, except for a sprinkle of gray hairs throughout her perfectly coiffed head and the crepey, pinched skin around her eyes and mouth. She was tanned and slender, with rosy cheeks and shining eyes, with the self-assured poise of a woman who had lived a happy and guilt-free life. The sight of her burned like acid in Lilly’s gut. Momma approached with the familiar key ring attached to her apron, her face void of emotion.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Where’s my daughter?” Lilly said. Her voice was raspy and weak, and her throat felt like she had swallowed shredded glass. She started coughing again and had to force words out. “What . . . am I . . . doing here?”
“Your daughter is safe,” Momma said.
Lilly clenched her jaw and tried to catch her breath. “Where is she?”
“Downstairs with her father.”
Lilly gasped. “Cole?”
Momma shook her head. “No, she’s downstairs with your father. Your husband, or whatever he was, is dead.”
For a terrifying second, Lilly thought her heart stopped. A sudden falling sensation swept over her and she shook her head. “No,” she said. “You’re lying.”
Momma frowned. “I never lie. Mr. Barlow said your husband was a thief and a coward, and instead of facing the consequences of his actions, he jumped from the train and died at the bottom of a river trestle.”
“No!” she cried. “That’s not true. Cole would never do that! If he’s dead, Mr. Barlow had him thrown him off the train!”
Momma shrugged. “Who knows. I don’t believe a word you circus people say anyway.”
Lilly fell back on the pillow and buried her face in her hands, her mouth twisting in anguish. No. Not Cole. I need him. Phoebe needs him! An image of his face flashed in her mind, and the black manacle of grief tightened around her heart and locked eternally into place with a solid, final thud. She sobbed and started coughing again, her shoulders convulsing. What was she going to do without her husband and best friend? How would she and Phoebe ever get out of here without him? She felt like she was going to die right there and then.
No. She had to pull herself together, for Phoebe’s sake. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to breathe normally, then turned to look at Momma, her mind and body quaking with sorrow and fear.
“How did I get here?” she said. “How long have I been—”
“Since yesterday morning. Your father and I drove all the way to Nashville to get you. The doctors weren’t sure you’d make the trip back.”
“But why—”
“Mr. Barlow called us. Didn’t surprise me when he said you’d been nothing but trouble since the day he met you. Don’t try denying it. He told me everything. He’s done with you and didn’t want to get stuck with your hospital bills and taking care of your daughter. Your father insisted the least we could do was bring you back here. And once I realized the little girl was normal, I knew somebody had to look after her.”
The icy fingers of fear clutched Lilly’s throat. She glared at Momma. “Bring her to me.”
Momma shook her head. “It’s for the best.”
Lilly pushed herself up on trembling arms. There was no way in hell she was going to let Momma raise Phoebe. She’d kill her before she’d let that happen. She had to get out of this room. She had to get her baby girl and leave this house. She struggled to get out of bed, but her legs wouldn’t move. With growing horror, she realized she couldn’t feel them. She squeezed her knees and pounded on her thighs, but they were lifeless and limp. She couldn’t feel a thing. Tears blurred her vision and panic tore at her chest.
“You’re paralyzed from the waist down,” Momma said. “The doctors said it’d likely be the case if you survived.”
Lilly sagged back on the pillow, trying to maintain her last shreds of sanity. If she couldn’t get out of bed, she’d never get out of this room. She’d never get Phoebe back. How could this be happening? “Please,” she cried. “I’m begging you. I have to see my little girl.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What are you talking about? She’s my daughter! She needs me!”
“You’re in no shape to be a mother. I always say God works in mysterious ways and everything happens for a reason. And finally, after everything you put us through, your father and I are getting the daughter we deserve. She’s taken to us like a fish to water, as she should. We’re her grandparents, after all.”
Terror and rage burned beneath Lilly’s ribcage. “You’re nothing to her!” she cried. “She’s mine!” She coughed again, and a sharp pain ripped through her middle, like a thousand daggers stabbing her sinew and muscle and veins. She sobbed and retched, growing weaker and dizzier with every passing second. “I won’t let you have her. Please. You have to bring her to me!”
“I’m sorry, but what’s done is done.” Momma went to the door, her keys clanking on her hip. Then she turned to look at Lilly, her fingers on the door handle. “If I were you, I’d stop begging for things you can’t have and start making peace with God. Lord knows you’ve committed your fair share of sins.” Then she walked out and locked the door.
*