Redemption Chapter Seven

The Sheriff walked into the room and tipped his hat. He wore a brown uniform with a gold star and a trucker’s cap. He once told Aidan that the cowboy hat only made it seem much more stereotypical. Besides, a ball cap was more efficient and less likely to blow away when in pursuit. His had lightly tanned skin, dark brown hair and steely brown eyes that Aidan had rarely seen emotion in. The Sheriff was good at being stoic.

“Can we play more later,” Cody asked.

Molly smiled and nodded at him. “We’ll see how we’re both feeling okay? Why don’t you go and wash up like your dad said.”

“Okay.” Cody hesitated for a moment and then hugged her. Molly gasped, wincing, but returning the gesture after a moment.

The boy broke the hug and dashed out of the room, slipping between his father and the Sheriff, not missing a beat.

“Miss Harper,” Tidwell dipped his head in greeting. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

She shifted in the bed, easing back against the pillows. “You’re here about the hit and run?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Aidan leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. He could have left them alone, but he was somewhat curious to know what Molly remembered about the situation. He’d respected Dr. Noles decision to keep everyone away from Molly until she was better, but he was still a father, and he wanted whoever almost killed his son brought to justice.

Besides, considering her hands were balled into fists in the fabric of the sheets, Aidan didn’t think she’d like to be left alone with the Sheriff. He didn’t want to leave her feeling vulnerable. He wished he could say it simply had to do with Molly saving his son, but he’d be lying to himself. Something more made him want to protect her, something he saw inside of her, but couldn’t describe.

“I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.” She said in a steady voice, but her eyes betrayed her and flashed for a brief moment with fear.

Tidwell pulled out a pad and pen, flipping the cover and finding a fresh page. “You’re not from around here. Florida, correct?”

She nodded. “Yes sir.”

“What brought you this way?”

“I’m a photographer. I travel a lot to find good pictures to sell. Mostly, I was just passing through and saw the harbor—thought it might have some good quality shots in it.”

He jotted something down. Aidan tried to fit together how this tied in with the car that ran her down in the middle of the road, but came up blank.

“When you left the store, what happened,” Tidwell continued.

Molly recounted the events as best she could, describing Cody running into the road, and the car coming around at break neck speed.

“And you just shoved him out of the way?”

“Of course.”

Aidan, hearing it from Molly, had newfound respect. She didn’t say it as if she were trying to be modest, but more like, duh, that’s what anyone would do. She had a good heart, and from what he could tell, a wounded soul. Tidwell didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Did you see the driver?”

“The windows were tinted.”

“You sure you haven’t been here before?”

Molly shook her head. “No sir. Never been here before.”

His eyes squinted and he took off the hat, showing the gray that worked its way through the brown hair at his temples. Wiping sweat from his brow he replaced it on his head. “And you can’t tell me anything else?”

“The car was maroon. That’s all I remember.”

Sheriff Tidwell put the pad away in his shirt pocket, tucking the pen beside it. “All right. I’ll need you to write an official statement, but for now this will be enough. As soon as you’re well enough make sure you stop by the station.”

“Yes sir.”

“Have a good day, Miss Harper.”

He walked out of the room. Aidan smiled at Molly before following the Sheriff. They walked into the hall, where Corbett waited. His gaze was narrowed at Tidwell. The Sheriff gave him a stiff nod and they all walked out onto the front porch.

“She’s lying,” Tidwell said.

“About what?” Aidan asked.

The Sheriff licked his lips and put his hand on his gun, his face pensive. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much of anything, Richard,” Corbett said. “It amazes me you’re still even Sheriff.”

“Dad, calm down.” Aidan sighed.

The blood between Tidwell and Corbett soured long ago. Neither of them could be around each other for too long without a snide comment. Tidwell had overlooked a tip that would have led to the capture of Blake—and possibly saved Aidan’s mother. Corbett never forgave Tidwell for that. Aidan never forgave himself for not being strong enough to help his mother when she needed it the most. There was plenty of guilt to go around, but right now, they needed to nix the hostility.

“She seems familiar,” Tidwell went on. “Can’t put my finger on it, but I’m willing to bet she’s been to this town before.”

“So what if she has,” Corbett said. “She saved my grandson’s life. You should be out there looking for the son of a bitch that tried to run him down—not worrying about the woman who saved his life.”

Aidan couldn’t disagree there. Tidwell, despite Corbett’s opinion, was efficient at his job. His record and reelections proved that, but Corbett only remembered him for letting his wife be murdered. It was one of the few times Aidan noticed his father hadn’t offered forgiveness.

Tidwell held Corbett’s gaze for a long moment before nodding. “You’re right. Sorry to have disturbed you folks. If I need something else, I’ll give ya a call.”

“You do that,” Corbett snapped.

Tidwell walked down the steps to his car. He got in and pulled out of the drive, leaving Aidan and Corbett alone with a soft, warm, shore breeze brushing over them.

“Don’t say it,” Corbett said.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

Aidan nodded. “Maybe.”

Corbett turned on his heel and walked inside. Aidan stood, watching the driveway, thinking that his father needed to forgive Tidwell, because at the end of the day, it hadn’t been the Sheriff’s fault. The blame belonged with Blake, and he was dead. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. They’d been the last victims. Someone had turned him in, though Aidan never knew who. It had been sealed as an anonymous tip and never listed in the records. Aidan hated that person—for the simple fact that if they’d known about it, they could have stopped it.

Most days, Aidan’s rational brain processed he was deflecting his anger. The anonymous tipper may have only found out about Blake and then called. Maybe they’d been too late to save his mother. It seemed there’d been so many chances to save her, but the stars hadn’t aligned, and every chance had slipped through so many fingers.

Aidan rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his face up to the warm sun. He remembered his mother’s laugh, the way her left eyebrow was slightly higher than the right. Pictures and old home movies kept those memories fresh. He’d been lucky to have that of her at least. It didn’t compare to the real thing, but he didn’t forget.

Because of what happened to his mother, he’d done the same thing with Bernie, his late wife. He recorded birthdays and Christmases. Cancer claimed her quicker than he’d thought possible. Aidan didn’t know how much loss one man could endure. Some days it felt like he was being punished. Maybe he just couldn’t let himself love her for fear of losing her.

Deep down, Aidan knew that wasn’t true.

He went inside to Molly’s room. She’d gotten out of bed and stood by the curtains, holding her casted arm close to her chest. Heather had given her a pair of green sweats, and black t-shirt. Both of which were too big for Molly’s slim frame. She stared out the window, biting her nails down to the quick. Her cast had a doodle on it, and Aidan tilted his head. “What’s that?”

She jumped, eyes widening. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Waving her off, he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Did Cody do that?”

Tilting the cast to the marks she smiled. Cody had scribbled his name on it with a smiley face. “Yes. He’s a very sweet little boy.”

“He seems to be warming up to you.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe he just likes that I played video games with him.”

Aidan laughed. “Maybe that too.”

Sadness touched the edge of her eyes and she looked down, her fingers tracing the letters on the cast.

“You all right?” He didn’t touch her, unsure of what caused the look of sadness on her face. After trauma, he noticed that some people could be easily startled by a simple gesture. Their minds wouldn’t let them relax, always wary of a fresh pain that might come. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

At this close proximity his heart sped up, palms going sweaty. He wiped his hands on his jeans. He didn’t know what was going on in his head. Aidan never had this sort of reaction about strange women—at least not when he’d been with Bernie. It put another thread of doubt in his mind about his relationship with Krysta.  

“Most people wouldn’t take in a complete stranger, even if they saved someone they cared about.” She bit her bottom lip, nibbling on the soft area apprehensively.

His gaze stayed on the supple flesh, lost in her natural beauty. He tilted his head towards her, blue eyes trying to find her brown ones. “Hey, you saved my son. What I’m doing doesn’t even begin to repay that.”

She glanced up slightly and bit her lip again. “I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I’ll only stay a day to appease Heather. I don’t want to upset your life here.”

“If you’re worried about the driver—.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I just…” Trailing off, she balled her hands in the excess fabric of the shirt.

Something held her back. Aidan didn’t press. His own demons tried to dictate how he lived his life on more days then he cared to admit. Sometimes, he would prefer not to get out of bed. On those days, he looked to Cody, because in his son, he not only saw Bernie, but his own future. He couldn’t let the past control how he lived, because it would control how Cody lived. He wanted better than that for his son.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

He held her gaze and offered a soft smile. After a moment she returned the sentiment, and Aidan found himself lost in the simple beauty of her soft features and tan skin. The sun reflected gold specks in her brown eyes, and her long dark hair had gone a bit wild from lying in bed.

“Aidan?” Krysta’s voice broke through the spell and he looked over at her.

“Hmm?” He stood up. “Yeah, baby?”

She gave a tight smile. “Can I talk to you out here?”

He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but her narrowed gaze and clenched jaw told him he was in trouble either way. Having done nothing wrong, he was more worried about the fight that would transpire, and less about his actual guilt. He’d been comforting a woman who was in desperate need of it.

“Sure.” Aidan nodded. “I’ll check in on you in a bit, Molly.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything, instead she walked over to the bed and eased into the sheets.

Smart woman.

Aidan walked out to face the firing squad.