Holiday Havoc (5 page)

“How nice for her,” Mary said. “I've always wanted to cruise the Caribbean.”

“You know, Aunt Mary, if you ever want to go on a vacation, I'd be willing to run the place for you,” Sean interjected.

Giving her nephew a thoughtful look, Mary replied, “I just might take you up on that, once the rooms are done.” Mary turned her gaze to Lauren. “Sean tells me you are quite an artist. I would love some fresh pieces for the living room and dining room.”

Lauren paled. “I—I don't sell my work.”

“You could, though,” Sean stated. “You've got the talent, for sure. And I saw several canvasses in your
workroom that would work well here if you finished them.”

Dropping her gaze to her folded hands resting on her lap, Lauren muttered, “I don't paint anymore.”

“I don't understand. Why would you walk away from such a wonderful gift?”

“It's complicated,” she said, her eyes flashing with emotion. Hurt, anger? Or was that fear?

A lump formed in his chest. He reached out to cover her clenched hands. What could possibly have frightened her enough to make her stop painting?

 

Lauren swallowed, unsure how to explain. She hated the question. Hated the answer even more. The Nightmare.

“Sean, dear, obviously this is upsetting to Lauren. Let us tell you what we planned for the third room upstairs,” Mary said.

Grateful for the change in subject, Lauren relaxed as she and Mary explained their ideas. An hour later, Mary tossed the blanket aside and rose. “Children, I'm off to bed.”

“'Night, Aunt Mary,” Sean said.

“Good night,” Lauren said. “Thank you again for allowing me to stay here.”

“My pleasure, dear. You stay as long as you want. I really enjoy having some female company,” Mary said before gliding from the room.

“Would you like some more cocoa?” Sean asked.

Lauren held up her hand, palm out. “No. If I drink any more, I definitely won't sleep tonight.”

Sean leaned forward to stoke the fire. The warm glow of the dancing flames touched his hair, highlighting the
dark auburn and bathing his strong features. Lauren suppressed a sigh. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent such a relaxing evening.

Sean sat back and pinned her with his blue eyes. “Lauren, why haven't you finished any of your oil paintings?”

She sucked in a breath at the repeated question. So much for relaxing. “I told you, it's complicated.”

“You obviously have a lot of talent. It seems a shame to let those pieces of half-finished art sit in a room collecting dust.”

She shook her head. “I just…”

Did she dare tell him the truth? Then she'd have to tell him everything, things she hadn't talked about in a long time, and then only with her therapist. She stared into his eyes, wanting to trust him like she hadn't trusted anyone since that awful night.

The need to talk became a burden. One that pressed on her heart.

“Can I consider you a friend?” she asked, needing to know they both understood the boundaries of their relationship, boundaries she doubted either of them wanted to cross.

His intense regard made her want to squirm. She held herself still, waiting. It was clear he wanted to hold back. She didn't blame him. He had seen enough of her scars to know what he was committing himself to.

But he gave a nod and her heartbeat sped up.

“Five years ago something…bad happened.” She nervously watched his face. “I was attacked.”

Shock and distress etched lines in Sean's face. “Who attacked you?”

She shook her head, not sure she should continue. Because if she did, there would be no turning back.

Sean leaned over to take her hands in his. The newspaper slipped to the floor. “Who did this to you?”

“A man named Adrian Posar.”

Just saying his name aloud brought back a rush of terror, shuddering down her spine. Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled and then continued. “I was working late in my studio when he broke in. The police said he entered through a back window, as was his M.O.”

Sean's face paled. “He'd done it before?”

She nodded. “He was a serial rapist plaguing Westwood, where I lived.”

Sean jerked in reaction, but she clung to his hand and forced herself to continue. “He'd raped and killed four other women. The police were sure he picked the women randomly. Maybe watched them for a day or so before making his move. Me, I worked most nights in the studio after my employees left. I was an easy target, I guess.” She let out a self-deprecating scoff. “Just like last night.”

Sean squeezed her hand. She could see how upset this was making him. She considered stopping but it was too late. “When he attacked me, we struggled. A candle was knocked over. Paint solvent spilled and ignited. We were both burned in the fire.”

Sean closed his eyes briefly as if in pain. His eyes jerked open. “The assailant last night wasn't…?”

“No,” she assured him quickly. “I thought so at first, but Adrian Posar's in prison.”

“That's—that's a relief,” he said. “But then, who was that guy last night?”

With a shrug, she replied, “Random, I guess.”

She stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace. It had taken her two years before she could bear to even see a fire, let alone sit close enough to feel the warmth.

For a moment silence stretched between them.

“How bad is the scarring?” Sean finally asked, his voice so soft, so tender she wanted to cry.

His rapt attention never strayed as she told him of the grueling treatment in the burn center, the grafting and painful process of physical therapy. When she ran out of words, she wiped at the stray tears streaming down her cheeks. “I've never understood what I did to deserve this.”

Sean took her other hand, his palms warm and comforting. “Lauren, what happened was not your fault.”

His gentle but firm rebuke stirred her anger. “But why did God allow it? He's in control. I know that. So why didn't He prevent the Nightmare?”

Her words tumbled out before she realized what she was saying. She felt guilty for voicing the questions that plagued her.

“We don't always understand God's ways. I'm sure there's some purpose.”

Rage nearly choked her. “What possible purpose could this serve?” She waved a hand down her side.

“Sometimes things happen so that we might learn to trust, not in ourselves, but in God.” Sean's patient voice soothed some of her ire. “Like the Apostle Paul, we might learn to be content in every circumstance.”

Disbelief clouded her vision. “So you're saying I had a lesson to learn? That God used the attack as a means to teach me something?”

She didn't like what that said about her. Or God. She'd been told all her life that God was a loving God.
And she'd always thought she had trusted God, but…Sean squeezed her hand, drawing her attention.

“No, I don't think God condoned this madman's actions. But God does give us,
all of us,
free will.”

“He shouldn't give evil people free will,” she said, her voice thick with anger.

“If only it were that simple.” He lifted her chin with his hand until their gazes met. “I know God wept with you. But I also firmly believe God has a plan for your life. And He uses our circumstances for good. Even the bad circumstances. Have you ever heard the story of Queen Ester?”

“Of course.” Ester's story was a biblical fairy tale. A beautiful commoner became a queen, saved her people and won the love of the king. What little girl wouldn't love that story? But Lauren wasn't a child anymore.

“Her life, her rise to royalty, culminated in one great opportunity to serve God. Your life and this tragic event might be used one day to serve God.”

A cynical scoff escaped her. “How?”

“Only God can reveal His intent to you, but you must be open and willing to listen to Him. He loves you. You are His child.”

She knew Sean meant well. And she wanted to believe his words. But too much anger, too much cynicism had built up around her heart.

Tilting her head to one side, she searched his face. “You should be a pastor or counselor or something. You're very good. Have you ever thought of changing careers?”

Pain flashed in his eyes. “I—” He shook his head, as if telling himself not to speak. His expression turned distant and she could feel his emotional withdrawal acutely
as he released her hands. “It's late. You should really rest. I'll assist you to your room.”

A little hurt and confused by the chasm forming between them, she allowed him to help her to her feet and took his arm for support. A quick glance at his face revealed his tight jaw and shadowed eyes. Why wouldn't he talk about himself? What was he hiding?

Despite everything, a yearning for the evening to continue tugged at her heart. She wanted to find out more about Sean, but obviously he had no intention of sharing himself with her. She shouldn't be surprised. She wasn't a permanent fixture in his life. His duty to her would soon be over. She had to remember her resolve not to become attached to Sean—there would only be hurt and sorrow down that road. She'd had enough of both to last several lifetimes.

Fumbling with her crutch, she took a hobbled step forward and nearly slipped on the newspaper beneath her feet. She glanced down and froze. The headline on the
Cannon Beach Daily
blazed before her eyes. Her breath seized in her chest.

California Prison Fire. One Officer Dead. Inmate Escapes.

Clutching Sean's arm with one hand, Lauren pointed to the paper and choked out, “What does the rest of the headline story say?”

Sean bent to retrieve the newsprint. His eyes widened as he read the article. When he lifted his gaze, she sucked in a panicked breath at the horror clouding the blue of his eyes.

“Adrian Posar has escaped.”

“L
auren, I've been trying to reach you for hours,” Detective Jarvis said in a voice grave with concern.

Lauren tightened her hold on the receiver. After seeing the jarring news article, Sean had helped her into the kitchen where she'd used the phone to call the detective. Her heart slammed against her ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. “Is it true? Did he escape?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

A tidal wave of horror crashed over her, knocking the breath from her lungs and sending her mind reeling. Her worst fears had been confirmed.

“Where are you staying? I'll have the police there in Cannon Beach come get you,” the detective said.

“I'm safe for now.” Anxiety twisted in the pit of her stomach. “But it would be good if you alerted them. They need to know who they're dealing with.” She quickly told him of the attack on the beach and the scare at the hospital. She wasn't crazy. Not this time. This time her worst fears had materialized.

“I don't know how he found out where you are or how he managed to get up there so quickly,” Jarvis said in a voice harsh with rage.

How could God let this happen again? Fresh fear and
anger converged to create a toxic mixture bubbling in her veins. She tried to think, to formulate a plan. She had to leave. Now, before Adrian attacked again. Next time, she might not be so blessed as to have Sean rescue her.

“I have to leave. I have to go someplace where he can't find me,” she said into the phone, as tension built in her chest, making her ache.

“I don't think that's a good idea. He could be watching you right now, waiting for you to be alone. He'd only follow you. Stay put. I'll have the police camp outside your door.”

“I'm not at my house,” she told him. “I'm at a friend's.”

And she was putting Sean and his aunt in jeopardy by being here. Dismay throbbed at her temple. She'd hate for anything to happen to these nice people who'd taken her in and shown her such kindness. “Maybe the police should take me home.”

“No!” Sean said from behind her.

She whipped her head around to look at him. “But I'm putting you and Mary in danger.”

“You'll be in more danger alone. You can't physically fight him or run from him with your injured foot. You're staying here,” Sean stated, his voice firm.

Her heart squeezed tight. She wanted to put her trust, her life in Sean's hands, but did she dare? If anything happened to him or Mary, she'd never forgive herself.

“I agree, Lauren,” came Detective Jarvis's voice over the line. “I doubt Posar will try anything as long as you're with other people. He's a coward at heart.”

A viselike band of dread squeezed her around the middle. “I hope you're right,” she said. “I'll stay here.”

“Good. I need the phone number and address. I'll be on the next plane out of L.A. I want to nail Posar to the wall.”

Glad to hear the detective would come, Lauren handed the phone over to Sean so he could give Jarvis the needed information.

“Don't worry. I'm not about to let anything happen to her,” Sean said before hanging up the phone.

Guilt for burdening Sean with her trouble weighed heavily on her heart. She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

He covered her hand with his, the pressure sure and warm. “I made a promise to take care of you. I don't renege on my promises. Besides, we have God on our side.”

Tears of gratefulness burned the back of her eyes. Sean was a man of honor and integrity. A man who kept his promises. She could only hope his promise didn't get him or Mary killed.

 

Sean dragged one of the wingback chairs from the living room into the hall and stationed himself outside Lauren's room. Light from the wall sconce reflected off the baseball bat lying at his feet. No one was getting past him to Lauren. He would protect her with everything in him.

Life had certainly taken a left turn since yesterday. He'd come to Cannon Beach to escape the memories of his past. Working on the renovations for Aunt Mary, he'd been able to keep his hands busy, forcing his mind to concentrate on the work rather than on what couldn't be undone. But that all changed with the decision to run on the beach.

When he'd gone jogging last night, he'd never expected to end up rescuing a beautiful woman from a madman, let alone bring her home with him to protect her.

And hearing the heartbreaking details of her story made his own heart ache with compassion and sympathy. And anger. Anger at the monster who'd brought this undeserved horrible tragedy upon Lauren. And others. Sean's stomach rolled at the thought of the poor victims who hadn't lived through their ordeal with the same man. Sean could only hope their pain had ended quickly.

But for Lauren, though she had physically survived the brutal attacks five years ago and yesterday, she was emotionally wounded. The attacks had damaged her trust in people, but there had been other sorrows, as well.

Those caused by her father, first from his abandoning the family, then by his death. Sean couldn't imagine how hard that had been. His own father was a rock, a good man Sean looked up to. Collin Matthews was the anchor that held their family together. Sean couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to him. Or his mother. Guilt for leaving them so abruptly nagged at him. He needed to make things right between them, make sure they knew his departure from his former life had nothing to do with them.

And everything to do with his own failure.

But he wouldn't fail Lauren.

Tonight, he'd so wanted to help her, to guide her toward God's healing love. While he knew she was a believer, her pain and sadness were blocking her from the true peace that faith could offer. For a moment he'd
allowed himself to reach out, to do what he'd been trained to do—guide her with words of wisdom, words of scripture, to a better understanding of God and faith to a place of healing.

And she'd called him on it, intelligently surmising he was more than he seemed. She was not only beautiful, but perceptive and honest. A potent combination.

He wasn't a pastor. But he was a trained guidance counselor. Using his education combined with his faith to guide teens at a high school had been his passion. Until tragedy had struck.

His hands fisted. He wasn't going to let disaster strike here. He'd failed six months ago to prevent a tragedy, a life lost, but here, with Lauren, he would keep her safe and protected.

He'd made a promise to Dr. Sorensen to care for Lauren. The request had been of necessity because of her injury. Now, she needed him to guard her life. To show her a way to healing her soul.

He'd just have to remember to protect his heart as well.

 

The next morning, Lauren awoke just as the first faint fingers of dawn crept over the winter-gray horizon. She felt frazzled from a night spent tossing and turning, every little noise making her jumpy. She threw the covers off and dressed as quickly as she could with her bum ankle.

She didn't want to disturb Mary or Sean, so she stayed in her room for another hour, trying to read from a book she'd discovered in one of the dresser drawers, but the biography of a past president didn't hold her attention.

Instead, she found herself staring out the window
at the cloudy sky and at the top of a police car parked just on the other side of the fence. Obviously, Detective Jarvis had contacted the Cannon Beach police. She wondered if the same two officers who'd met her at the hospital now sat outside in the frosty morning air.

When finally she couldn't take another moment holed up in the room, she opened her bedroom door and found Sean blinking at her from where he sat in a chair in the hall. Surprised pleasure tingled through her. Finding any other guy camped outside her door would have creeped her out, but there was something about Sean that made her feel safe and treasured.

His dark auburn hair was tousled as if he'd run his fingers through the thick waves. He smiled and stretched his long limbs. Lauren's pulse picked up. Lanky but graceful, Sean emitted a vital energy that crackled in the air.

Swallowing heavily as heat crept up her neck, she said, “Good morning. Did you sit here awake all night?”

He rose. “I did.”

Affection for his chivalrous protection unfurled in her chest. “Did you know there's a police car outside?”

His mouth lifted at one corner. “Good to know. I'll take some coffee out to them. Are you hungry?”

Her stomach was tied up in knots. “Not really.”

Peering at her with concern, he said, “You need to keep up your strength.”

She couldn't argue with his logic. “Then I guess I should try to eat.”

Nodding with satisfaction, he gestured down the hall. “After you.”

Using the crutch for support, she made her way to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

Waving her toward the table, he said, “I've got it. Toast, coffee, eggs. Nothing spectacular.”

“That sounds perfect.” She sat and leaned the crutch against the wall. Her gaze strayed out the picture window into the fenced-off garden.

Beyond the perimeter of the fence, a white utility van pulled to a stop. A worker exited the vehicle, hitched his tool belt over his navy coveralls and moved to a telephone pole. A white hardhat covered his head, and a thick beard and mustache protected his exposed skin from the chilly air. She watched as he climbed the metal rungs going up the side of the utility pole. She shivered. She certainly wouldn't want that job.

“Here we go,” Sean said as he set a plate of light and airy scrambled eggs in front of her, along with two pieces of sliced buttered toast and a mug of fresh brewed coffee.

“Thank you.” She picked up her fork and took a bite. Her stomach growled. The knot in her stomach eased slightly, making her conscious of her hunger. When he sat down with his own breakfast, she asked, “What brought you to Cannon Beach?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Aunt Mary needed my help.”

After swallowing the bite she'd just taken, she said, “I get a sense it was more than that. Mary said you needed a change.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did she, now? Well, sometimes we all need a change.”

An evasive parry, if ever there was one. She tried a different tract. “How long have you been a carpenter?”

He shrugged and finished off his eggs and toast before scooting his chair back. He stood and cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. She stared. Why was he so reluctant to talk about himself? He'd said he was her friend, so why was he closing himself off from her?

“I know there's a thermos here somewhere,” he said as he searched through the cupboards.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

He found a thermal carafe and poured coffee into it. “Doing what?”

Curiosity nipped at her. “Avoid talking about yourself. I'd like to get to know you better.”

“I don't see the point. It won't help,” he said and reached for the kitchen door handle.

She tucked in her chin as hurt slammed into her. Memories rose, assaulting in their intensity. Greg had said something similar just before he'd walked out of her life. He hadn't seen the point in a relationship with her when he couldn't stand the sight of her scars. She hadn't thought that Sean was cut of the same cloth, but obviously he was.

Sean paused to peer at her in concern. “You okay?”

Obviously, her expression gave away her inner feelings. She tried to school her features into nonchalance. “Sure, why wouldn't I be?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Look, I just don't like talking about myself. There are some things better left alone.”

“That's fine. I get it. There's no point in opening up to me when I'll be out of your life soon enough.”

It was a mistake staying here. She was damaged goods, a burden. As soon as Detective Jarvis arrived
she'd have him take her someplace else. She rose unsteadily to stand and tested her weight on her bad ankle. Though still painful, she could bear more weight this morning. She reached for the crutch. It slipped from her grasp and landed with a bang on the floor.

Sean moved to her side. He set the thermos on the table and then placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lauren, that's not what I mean.”

She met his gaze. “Then what did you mean?”

He blew out a breath, looking contrite. “I guess I have been using avoidance tactics. I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Then what does your avoidance have to do with?”

Raw, primitive pain flashed in his blue eyes. Something or someone had hurt him.

Her heart acknowledged his pain, and compassion filled her. She slipped her arms around his waist. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Your life is in danger. You shouldn't have to be burdened with my troubles when you have your own to deal with.”

Reminded of her Nightmare, she quaked. “It's freaking me out that he's on the loose.”

He hugged her close. “I can totally understand that. But you can't let the fear win.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “It already has. It's taken so much from me.”

He leaned back to look at her face, his expression so tender, so distressed on her behalf. “You mean your painting?”

He was too perceptive for her comfort. “Yes. Among other things.” Her self-esteem. Her ability to trust.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

No way would she disclose how ugly and unlovable she felt. She couldn't take seeing confirmation of those feelings or pity in his eyes. The silence stretched, pulling at her already taut nerves. She dropped her gaze.

“I think you should start painting again,” he said softly.

Dismayed, her gaze snapped to his face. “I can't.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “You can.”

Agitation beat through her system like the delicate wings of a butterfly. Paint again? Longing swamped her. Yet a yawning terror sucked it away. The thought of picking up a paintbrush and reaching into the place of creativity that had been invaded and violated by violence and rage left her frozen, immobile to act, to create with color. Her world was now shades of black and white, like her charcoal sketches.