Secrets of the Heart Page 12
But she couldn’t deny everything changed when she first met Michael. It was as if he had sounded the trumpets of Jericho against her heart, causing her walls to come crumbling down. She couldn’t count the number of times she had begged God to help her get over him. But with the passing of time, his charm had begun to form a steel net around her heart, and now, more than ever, she needed to escape the clutches of his control. How she felt wasn’t important anymore. Michael was now taken, engaged to marry Miss Wilson. The woman seemed a perfect fit for him with her stylish ways and alluring looks.
All Heather had was her honesty, her generosity, and her strong faith in God. Those three things meant more to her than any fashion designer or glamour makeover could do for her. Sure, she noticed when guys stared at her or whistled at her when she used to work at Harbor Hospital. But she never let the attention get to her head. It seemed that most guys were selfish pigs, only wanting one thing, something she had vowed never to sacrifice until she got married, if ever.
A warm ocean breeze brushed across her face causing her hair to billow gently in the air as she spent the next several minutes reflecting on how she was going to erase Michael from her heart. But nothing came to her mind.
She mumbled a quick prayer, pleading with God to show her what to do. After a few minutes of quiet submission, she felt a comforting peace blanket her heart, and she decided to head back toward the house. Heather strolled along the stone path, patting the bronze statue of a little boy on the head as she walked past. From the corner of her eye, a glimmer of light from the west garden path caught her attention, and she turned to peer through the dim moonlit night. But the flash of light disappeared as quickly as it came.
What could the reflection have been? Was she just imagining things?
Goosebumps ran down her arm as she hesitated for a few seconds.
Heather’s curiosity pushed her feet down the path toward where she had seen the flash of light.
“Hello is anyone there?” Her voice began to tremble. She waited, but only the chirping sound of crickets answered her call.
“Oh silly, you were probably imagining things. You’ve got too much on your mind thinking about Michael all the time.” Before she could turn back toward the house, there was a sudden blur of movement in front of her head, and a black glove clamped down against her face. Within seconds, the suffocating smell of sweet nail polish fumes rushed into her nostrils. Her eyes widened as panic set in. Mustering every ounce of energy, she clawed at the large hand wrapped in a vise-like grip around her face, trying to escape the intoxicating odor. But with each struggling breath, the shroud of darkness loomed closer and closer, beckoning her to seek relief from her tormenting situation.
Heather drew from her natural instinct to survive and refused to go down without putting up a fight. She wasn’t about to let some lowlife scum think she was an easy prey. With the reflex of a trained street fighter, she snapped up the heel of her foot and stomped hard on her attacker’s foot, breaking his grip momentarily. At that moment, Heather knew there would only be one opportunity to call for help, one chance to stay alive, and she needed to make it count. She sucked in a deep breath, like a cliff diver about to plunge into the ocean and forced out a hair-raising scream for help. But her valiant effort was too late as a sharp pain traveled down her neck before total oblivion set in.
Chapter 15
Michael pounded his fist on the table with enough force to jar the floral table arrangement. “I mean it. I want answers, and I want them now,” he shouted with more determination than he had ever remembered. “This wasn’t an accident, Officer Jackson. She certainly didn’t hit herself on the head.”
The officer’s pen moved feverishly across the pad. “Mr. Robbins, I assure you I’m doing everything I possibly can. I have almost half of the Newport Beach police department out there searching the grounds. If it really was The Cove Thief that attacked, you can be sure we’ll find him. Right now, we’re doing our best to locate the weapon used in the attack.”
“What kind of weapon do you think he used?”
Officer Jackson used a hand to stroke the bottom of his stubbled chin. “I’m almost positive he used a blackjack on her.”
“Blackjack?” Michael drew his eyes smaller. “She’s lucky he didn’t kill her with it. Officer, you must do something before he strikes again. I can’t have my household in jeopardy from this lunatic.”
“I understand, Mr. Robbins. We’ll do our best.”
Heather’s eyelids felt like lead weights as she slowly cracked them open. Her head pounded like an off balance washing machine and felt as if a freight train had run into her. Her eyes lazily traveled around the room and settled on Michael who was standing at the foot of her bed. She struggled to sit up, but the room began to spin, and her head crumpled back into her pillow.
Michael rushed to her side and leaned closer. “Heather, don’t try sitting up. You’ve suffered a concussion, and the doctor says you need to stay in bed for the rest of the night.” He placed a reassuring hand on her head.
Heather closed her eyes momentarily before opening them to gaze at Michael’s face. “I did?” Her voice was weak and tired. He quickly exchanged glances with Officer Jackson who stood by the doorway and nodded at him.
Michael clasped her hand between his. “Heather, what’s the last thing you remember?”
She saw the look of concern in his eyes and tried to recall the painful events of the night, but the images danced around the fringes of her mind where she couldn’t grab them like the colorful reflections of a disco ball at a dance. “Dinner, something didn’t feel right so I went walking in the gardens and then I woke up here.” She looked at him as if he were part of a dream before collapsing back into her pillow.
Heather heaved a heavy sigh. “Michael.”
“Yes.” He leaned closer to Heather’s ear.
“I don’t think I can work tomorrow. I’m sorry,” she whispered before her eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off to sleep.
Michael escorted the officer back to the front foyer.
“Please let me know anything you can find out,” he said as the officer walked out the front door.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Robbins. I’ll be sure to stay on top of this case.”
The muscles in Michael’s jaw twitched nervously as he watched the blue and white sedan shrink into the distance as it headed up the road to the front of his estate. He pushed the front door closed and made his way back upstairs.
Michael quietly slipped into Heather’s room and sat in the wingchair across from her bed. He watched the gentle rise and fall of Heather’s chest as she lay in a deep sleep, unaware of the worried expression on Michael’s face. He forced a slow breath from his lungs as the bizarre events of the evening began to sink in.
Someone had tried to attack Heather while she was alone. Was it The Cove Thief? Who else would have had a motive to harm the innocent woman? Michael couldn’t imagine her having any enemies. The woman was too unselfish and soft spoken to even hurt a fly. And judging by the humble belongings she had arrived with, kidnapping her for money would have turned up empty. Could it be that someone was trying to get to him or the private safe in his room? Someone who knew how his heart felt about the woman? Someone who wanted to blackmail him? Michael shook his head at the thought.
Stop being ridiculous.
He had told no one about his secret feelings for her.
His thoughts were interrupted by movement from Heather’s bed, and he moved next to her bed. He took note of her hair that spread haphazardly across the pillow and the map of black and blue at the bottom of her neck. Michael felt the heat rise up the back of his neck, and his hands balled into a fist. The unknown assailant that was responsible for this cowardly attack would answer to him. He was sure of that. No one would hurt Heather and get away with it.
But in the back of his mind, there was anxiety. Anxiety for the woman’s well-being and how long it would take for her to heal from her attac
k. There had only been two times in his life when he had been so afraid for a loved one. When Carla had been taken, and when Evelyn had gotten sick. And now it seemed the woman lying across from him would be the third person that had become dear to his heart.
Michael couldn’t pinpoint the exact time when Heather had become more than just an employee. Maybe it was from watching her make Evelyn smile or maybe from challenging him about things he refused to face. All he knew was that he hadn’t felt so alive in years.
Michael glanced at the Bible on the nightstand beside her bed. God, how could you let something like this happen to her? This woman was more devoted to you than any other Christian I know. The familiar feeling of anger that he had suppressed for so many years came boiling to the surface. Michael wanted to be angry and yell at God for turning His back on one of his flock. But he knew Heather would disapprove of his actions. He could hear her voice chanting in his head. “God loves and cares for us,” she would tell him. There was a thin smile on Michael’s face as he shook his head. He knew she would tell him to pray for her instead.
Maybe some of his pain was due to the fact he felt guilty for turning his back on God, like the prodigal son. After all, he had cursed God and rejected Him after everything that had happened to Carla and Evelyn. Would God really accept the hideous man that he had become? A man that had forsaken any Deity in his life?
Without thinking, he reached out and picked up the Bible by her bed. He flipped it open and began reading the first verse he came to, which was Romans 8:28.
“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”
He causes all things to work together for good? For a moment, Michael felt a tiny spark of hope that there was some greater good, some noble purpose to the suffering in his life. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came. What possible good could come out of Carla’s tragedy and Evelyn’s sickness? While he knew death was destined for all mankind, it seemed cruel for a loving God to allow such adversity to strike his family in the prime of their lives. Certainly God knew he wasn’t Job material and he had no intentions of becoming one.
Michael straightened up and quickly set the Bible back on the table.
What’s wrong with you? How could you forget the pain and suffering you’ve gone through?
Michael shook his head. His conscience was right. He was letting Heather soften him back into a blind faith believing Christian, something he vowed would never happen as long as he lived. He stood to go and gently moved a lock of hair from her face and let a finger slide down her cheek until it rested below her chin. Heather had found a special place in his heart, that he couldn’t deny. But he couldn’t see how they could sustain a relationship that would survive the test of time without overcoming the stumbling block of their unequally yoked beliefs. There had to be a logical solution, one that would allow him to pursue the woman without requiring him to become a reborn Christian.
Michael stood in deep concentration, plotting for a possible solution but found none. A feeling of disappointment came over him, but he still refused to give up hope. There had to be some compromise, some way he could get the woman to see the error of her beliefs. Michael leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He watched silently as Heather stirred slightly before drifting back to sleep.
“I need you to be OK, Heather,” he whispered. A gentle sigh escaped his lips, and he quietly pulled the door shut behind him as he made his way down to his office.
Later that night, the howl of a coyote jarred Heather from her sleep. She slowly opened her eyes to a high-pitched barking sound as the animal communicated with its pack. She glanced at the snow-white moon in the sky as it cast a white reflection across the peaceful Newport Coast. The sight brought peace to her heart, and she couldn’t help marveling at the natural beauty that God had created. She was thankful for the opportunity to enjoy such beautiful scenery during her stay at Crystal Cove, and she wished her assignment would never end.
Heather gingerly propped herself up in bed, but the throbbing pain at the base of her neck slowed her movement. Her head still felt groggy as her eyes moved lazily around the room, and she tried recalling the events of the night. Michael had been here. That much she remembered.
She recalled the look of concern in his eyes as he hovered over her bed like a mother bear watching her cub. Or was it a lo of fear? Heather couldn’t remember clearly; the pain medication they gave her had made her groggy. She slowly swung her legs to the side of the bed and steadied herself as her body swayed slightly. When she had regained her sense of balance, she stood to her feet and wobbled like a drunk over to her vanity before sitting down in front of the mirror.
“Wow!” she said out loud as she stared at the disheveled woman in the mirror. Her hair had become a tangled mess, and there was a bandage on the side of her neck. Images of her last dinner began to flash before her eyes, and she slowly began to recall what had happened. She remembered Cynthia’s surprise visit, her escape into the backyard, and a strange flash of light before everything went dark.
Who would want to hurt her? Heather had done nothing to make anyone angry. Did she offend someone without knowing it? Or had she accidently stumbled into The Cove Thief who had been casing the property? A shiver traveled down her spine as she thought about how close to death she had been.
She whispered a silent prayer, thanking God for protecting her and determined to be more vigilant the next time she ventured out alone. Heather knew there was the remote possibility her assailant might attack again, and she needed to exercise caution and better judgment if she wanted to stay alive.
She placed a hand over her stomach as a gnawing sensation began to spread and realized she was hungry, especially since she had lost her appetite after Cynthia’s surprise visit. Heather slipped on her robe and braced a hand against the wall of the darkened hallway as she carefully made her way down to the kitchen. A peaceful silence permeated the house while the rest of the household seemed fast asleep.
She fought the wave of sleepiness and dizziness that made it difficult for her to focus her eyes and navigated the stairs one step at a time until she reached the main floor. Feeling unbalanced from her efforts, she sat on the bottom step to rest for a few moments. Maybe going to the kitchen alone wasn’t such a great idea. After a minute of rest with her eyes closed, she gained her feet and continued her mission to find something to eat.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally made her way to the granite kitchen counter and pulled open the stainless-steel refrigerator door. The light inside the appliance made her eyes squint, and she raised a hand to protect her face. Her eyes scanned from the top to the bottom shelf before her focus settled on a platter of Genoa salami, pepperoni, and various gourmet cheeses. She slid the tray off the shelf and set it on the kitchen table where she sat and munched on the appetizers.
Heather nibbled on a bite of the salami, savoring the garlicky rich taste as her taste buds watered. After sampling a few slices of cheese that melted in her mouth, she relaxed into the wooden chair until a wave of drowsiness blanketed her mind. Afraid Miss Archer would find her in the morning fast sleep in the kitchen, Heather began her trek back up to her room. As she stepped onto the landing at the top of the stairs, Heather plopped into the wingchair located in the large sitting area, hoping the vertigo in her head would disappear before she navigated the last one hundred feet to her room. But by the time the spinning stopped, she had already fallen asleep in the chair.
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Kelsey MacBride