Though she was glad to hear, the little fellow was all right.
“We should probably call the animal shelter and see if anyone is missing him,” Jennifer said. “And if not…”
“I’ll take care of it. My family does a lot of fundraising for the shelter,” Maura answered. “We’ll see if we can find his owners, but if we can’t, I promise ya we’ll look after him.”
“Thank you.” Jennifer wished she could keep the little runaway but knew it was kinder to let him go to a home with a yard and people who could care for him.
“Do ya recall anything else?” Maura asked.
Another image flickered through her mind, that of glowing hands and balls of light. “Nothing that makes sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” Maura prodded.
Jennifer shook her head, refusing to answer. “I don’t understand how I came to be here.”
“My brother and uncle found ya in the woods. They brought ya here to rest.” Maura crossed over to the dresser to lift something from the top. “They said ya had this apron with ya.”
Jennifer flinched and pushed into the doorframe when Maura tried to come closer. The protective action was more a reflex than anything. Maura stopped and slowly set the apron on the corner of the bed before backing away.
“They didn’t find a cellphone,” the woman said.
“I rarely take it to work with me.” No one ever called Jennifer except for work.
Jennifer looked at the apron, knowing she needed the money she had inside and yet unwilling to go fully back into the room to pick it up.
“Was I attacked?” Jennifer felt her head for injury. It still felt fuzzy. “Robbed?”
“I don’t think so,” Maura said. “There is still money in your apron. I couldn’t find anything wrong with ya. Maybe ya passed out?”
Jennifer did a mental inventory of her body. Thankfully, she didn’t feel like someone violated her. However, that didn’t account for the heaviness in her limbs and the dullness impeding her thoughts. She glanced outside, not seeing anyone in the motel parking lot. “Why here? Why not a hospital? Or call the police?”
Maura’s explanation seemed to be lacking. If Jennifer had found someone passed out in the forest, she would have called for help. There is no way she would have dragged that person, unconscious, to a motel to sleep off a hangover and hope for the best. They weren’t in the backwoods away from civilization. This was a town, with doctors and police officers and an ambulance service. The only reason people didn’t call for help was if they were hiding something.
Maura’s smile remained intact, but her eyes shifted away and then back.
“I can’t come up with a good answer for that,” Maura said at length. “I suppose because we didn’t think ya needed one. It’s probably a good thing too. If ya can’t afford a puppy, I doubt ya can afford an emergency room visit for exhaustion.”
Maura wasn’t wrong.
“My family was never big on visiting hospitals,” Maura continued. “My ma has always been a bit of a natural healer. Her name is Cait MacGregor. I can call her if ya want. She lives up on the hill in the family manor. Won’t charge ya to look ya over.”
Jennifer couldn’t say she blamed them for that. She hated hospitals. The smell of disinfectants barely hiding the sickness beneath. Unoffensive pictures of flowers in vases and meadow-filled landscapes hanging on light pastel walls. They were supposed to induce a calming effect. Sound breaking through the long silences was the worst part—monitor beeps or soft moans of pain.
The grief that hit her came in an unexpected wave. All these years later and thinking of her father’s last days could still knock her to her knees. He was the only person who had ever loved her. Well, that wasn’t fair. Her brother had probably loved her, but they had been siblings, bickering more than connecting.
“Do ya need a doctor?” Maura’s smile had fallen. She came forward, reaching out.
Jennifer pressed harder against the doorframe. The memory of glowing hands tried to surface. Her thoughts lagged. “I think I need coffee.”
“That, I can provide.” Maura picked up the apron from the bed and gestured that Jennifer should leave first. “We should have coffee in the office.”
They walked along the shaded sidewalk past the row of motel room doors. In the distance, the sound of a nail gun shot in a steady rhythm.
“Ya have a name?” Maura asked. “I feel like I should have something to call ya.”
“Oh, uh, Jennifer Greene.” Jennifer glanced around the parking lot. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
“Lived here long?”
“Not really.”
“What made ya choose Green Vallis?”
Jennifer knew the woman was trying to make polite conversation. Still, considering she’d just woken up in a place that she didn’t remember going to, talking about her geographical history was weird.
“It’s not a very exciting story,” she answered. “I had a job delivering for a bakery. Green Vallis was on my route. When word came that they were cutting back distribution, I happened to be here and saw a help-wanted sign for a waitress position at Crimson Tavern. I interviewed, and the owner offered it to me. Since having a job is better than not, I accepted. I finished my last run, drove my delivery van back, then loaded my stuff to move here. Jefferson, the owner, hooked me up with a Dale Coldwater, who had a trailer I could rent.”
Maura nodded but didn’t speak.
“I told you it wasn’t exciting,” Jennifer said. “What about you? Have you lived here long?”
“Not very,” Maura said. As if realizing she still had Jennifer’s apron, she handed it over.
“And what made you choose Green Vallis?” Jennifer fingered the apron’s contents, feeling the wad of cash and the heavier weight of change she’d made in tips the night before.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. The MacGregor clan tends to stick together, maybe a little too much. My cousin, Erik, discovered this town and bought the mansion on the hill—have ya seen it?”
Jennifer nodded. “Only from a distance. I overhear customers talking about it a lot.”
“Well, the mansion is huge, which was one of the reasons the family purchased the property. The elders moved in. My cousins moved in, and my brother Rory. Then my cousins’ new wives moved in. And, well, there are a lot of relatives living up in that madhouse. Technically, I have a room there too, but I prefer to spend most of my time down here with the normal folk.” Maura pushed at the door labeled “Front Desk” and held it open for Jennifer. A ringing phone greeted them.
“Normal folk?”
Maura didn’t respond to her question as she went to answer the motel phone.
Jennifer came from what essentially had been a family of two. She used to daydream about what it would be like to have a giant family—people always coming in and out, barbeques in the park, parties in the backyard, endless birthdays, and even bickering over the holiday turkey. Beyond that, she would wish she had someone to call during those times when taking care of her father had kept her up for days at a time, and all she’d wanted for herself was a four-hour nap.