Page 7 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)
“She doesn’t seem too concerned about it, and she’s been fine the rest of the day. But it’s hard to dismiss two episodes so close together. Especially since she said it’s never happened before.”
“She told us that too. I’m glad you were able to—”
“Cara? I thought that was you. Natalie told me you were staying with her this fall. Nice to see you again.” Paul Coleman strode toward them down the sidewalk and extended his hand.
“Nice to see you too.” She returned his clasp.
“Hi, Brad.” The midfiftyish man shifted toward him. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem.”
He redirected his attention to Cara. “How goes the project with Natalie? I imagine translating those journals is a challenge.”
“It is. Natalie’s been able to ferret out the gist of the entries so far, but it’s slow going. I’m hoping we can get through all of them in the weeks we’ll have together.”
“Put in a good word for the historical society while you’re working with her, if you don’t mind.
Those journals are a treasure that should be preserved for future generations—along with her translation.
The two together could help keep Paw Paw French from dying with the last speaker of the language. ”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I hope there were no aftereffects from her fall.”
A beat passed. “She says she feels fine.”
Brad studied Cara.
The lady was astute.
From what he knew of Natalie, she’d prefer to keep her health issues private. Cara had obviously picked that up too and was respecting her wishes.
“Glad to hear it. Please tell her I said hello.”
“I’ll be happy to.”
“Take care, Brad.” With a wave, Paul continued down the street.
Cara watched him leave, faint furrows denting her brow. “Maybe I should have told him about Natalie’s latest dizzy spell. I know they’re longtime friends.”
“If you want my opinion, you made the right choice. Natalie can tell him herself if she chooses to.”
The creases on her forehead smoothed out. “Thanks for the validation.”
A gust of wind whipped past as the dark clouds that had been massing on the horizon surged across the blue sky, dimming the sun and casting a shadow over the landscape.
Brad shifted around to scan the heavens. “It appears we may be in for a storm. Did you bring an umbrella?” When she didn’t respond, he turned back to her. “If you didn’t, I have one in my car you can borrow.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “One what?”
Huh.
Had she zoned out while he was talking?
That wasn’t consistent with the intense focus he’d picked up on Tuesday, but she could be distracted by Natalie’s health issue.
“An umbrella. The weather’s changing.” He swept a hand over the sky.
“Oh.” She inspected the expanse of menacing clouds. “I think we’ll be fine. Natalie should be finishing up, and we ought to be able to beat the—”
Another gust of wind pummeled Cara head on, sending her dark locks flying behind her.
But the blast of air did more than tousle her hair. It also revealed a beige device hooked behind each ear, with an attached wire that disappeared into the wavy strands.
He did a double take.
Those had to be hearing aids.
Meaning Cara was deaf to some degree in both ears. And she hadn’t been inattentive moments ago. She just hadn’t heard him.
Compromised hearing could also explain the unique nuance in her speech, especially if the issue was longstanding.
Before he could fully digest his discovery, she reached up and touched one of the exposed devices. The one he was staring at.
Heat crept up his neck, and he redirected his gaze to her face.
“I’m sorry if I’ve missed anything you said. As you can see, I’m deaf. The cochlear implants are a godsend, but I don’t always pick up everything. It’s easier for me to comprehend words when I can watch the other person’s lips.”
Ah. That explained her singular focus in conversations.
“I had no idea until the wind revealed your secret.”
She shrugged. “My deafness isn’t a secret, but there’s usu ally no reason to bring it up in brief exchanges.” She flashed him a tiny smile and checked her watch. “I appreciate the offer of an umbrella, but we’ll be in the car soon. It was a pleasure to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
“Enjoy the rest of your day—and stay dry.”
With that, she strode away, her carriage fluid, graceful, and elegant.
He watched until she disappeared around the corner, then wandered back across the street to the squad car.
What he knew about cochlear implants would fill a thimble.
But hadn’t he read somewhere that they were a last resort, after hearing aids failed to be of use?
If that was the case, she must have profound hearing loss in both ears.
Questions tumbled around his mind as he slid behind the wheel.
Could her hearing loss have been congenital? If not, when had she lost the ability to hear? How had she lost it? How did she manage the day-to-day challenges of living with devices that assisted her hearing but didn’t fully capture everything going on around her? How had the loss affected her life?
A swell of thunder rumbled overhead.
Could Cara hear that?
One more unanswered question.
And his curiosity wasn’t likely to be satisfied unless he found an excuse to pay another visit to the Boyer house and engage her in more than the sort of brief exchange she’d mentioned.
Any summons, however, would involve trouble on the property. Like another health scare for Natalie. But he didn’t wish any more problems on the older woman—and what else could happen out in the quiet countryside that would require the presence of law enforcement?
The thunder reverberated through the still air again, and he started the engine.
Hopefully Cara and Natalie would get home before the skies opened.
Because unless he was misreading the situation, a major storm was barreling in.
“HEY, LYDIA! Grab me another beer!”
As her brother’s command boomed from the recliner in the living room where he sat, as usual, with his feet up while he watched Jeopardy , Lydia dried her hands with a dish towel and counted to three.
The sooner she could ditch this place the better.
She yanked a beer from the fridge, marched into the next room, and slammed it on the table beside his chair.
“Hey.” He scowled at her. “You want foam spewing all over the place when I open it?”
“If you don’t like the service, you can get your own beer from now on.”
He twisted off the cap, eyeing her. “What’s with you tonight?”
“I’m tired, okay? I clean houses all day. It’s hard work.”
“So is working at the mill. Do you hear me complaining?”
“Why should you? All you have to do after you come home is sit down to a dinner I cooked and a house I cleaned and put your feet up while you watch TV.”
“Boy, has your tune changed. When I gave you a place to live two years ago after that no-account you married cashed out your bank account, ran off with the money, and left you in debt, you couldn’t do enough for me.”
“I repaid you long ago. And I’ve been paying you rent for months.”
“Cheap rent.”
“Not if it includes a cook and housekeeper.”
“Whatever.” He took a swig of beer. “Speaking of rent ... are you having any luck finding a new place to live? Ashley’s getting antsy to move in.”
She snorted. “Your so-called girlfriend is antsy for a free place to crash. She’s playing you for a sucker, Randy Politte, and you’re too stupid to see it.”
His complexion reddened. “That’s not true. She wants to get married.”
“And in six months she’ll run off for greener pastures and you’ll owe her alimony for the rest of your life.”
“You’re just bitter because of what Wade did to you.”
“No. I’m smarter. The rose-colored glasses are off.” She scrubbed at her forehead, where a headache was beginning to throb. “I’m going to bed. You can put away the dishes and fold your own laundry after you finish your beer. I’m done for today.”
“It’s too early to go to bed.”
“Not if you’re tired.”
She swiveled away and trudged down the hall. Once inside the tiny room he’d given her after she’d come slinking back penniless, unemployed, and disillusioned, she shut the door. Leaned back against it as she examined the frayed carpeting and stained walls.
Staying in the dive he called home had never been in her long-term plans, but what else could she do? Jobs were scarce for people with limited qualifications. At least cleaning didn’t require a diploma or any special experience. Still, it had taken months to build up a regular clientele.
The income was steady now, thank goodness, but the work was exhausting.
The residential jobs weren’t bad, but cleaning offices after hours stunk—even if those clients were more reliable.
No one her age should have to do hard physical labor until midnight.
Forty-seven wasn’t ancient, but it was too old for backbreaking work, day after day, night after night.
That’s why she’d put together an escape plan.
She sat on the edge of the bed, massaged her lower back, and arched her spine.
Fortunately, everything was falling into place with minimal effort.
If Natalie Boyer continued to have dizzy spells, it shouldn’t be too difficult to convince her she needed a live-in housekeeper who could watch over her.
Moving into that large, lovely home would be like taking up residence in a palace after Randy’s dump.
Plus, the house held rare, valuable merchandise.
How providential that she’d overheard Ms. Boyer and Paul Coleman talking about it a month ago.
Certain people would pay a pretty penny to get their hands on such a find, even if it fell into the one-man’s-trash, another-man’s-treasure category as far as she was concerned.
People could get excited about the strangest stuff.
But assuming all went as planned, she might very well end up with first-class accommodations and a sizable chunk of change in the bank.
She stretched out on the bed and stared at the crack in the ceiling that got bigger every day.
The only fly in the ointment was that professor. With her on site, Natalie had a built-in companion who could keep watch over her until the end of the semester. For the plan to provide a fast escape route from her brother’s, Cara Tucker had to go.
The question was, how best to achieve that goal?
A subject worth pondering while the thunder rumbled, the lightning flashed, and the crack in the ceiling widened yet again as the walls shook from the fury of the storm.