Nightchild

Chapter 57

Blythe alternated between her room and the balcony, back and forth until just after noon when she heard Nate leaving. From the corner of the wraparound balcony that stopped at the back of the house, Blythe could lean over the railing and watch the garage. With relief, she saw the door finally open, Nate's car pull out and follow the drive to the front. Ensuring that her husband not glance up and notice her, she went back inside and watched from an upper window until he was safely out of sight.

She'd been subdued, compliant even, that morning, biding her time until Nate left and she'd be alone with Heathe. After the discussion she'd overheard the night before, Blythe was certain Nate believed she'd been seeing Scott and he wanted him...what? Out of the way? Dead? Not only that, but her suspicions had been confirmed. Her husband hadn't been with Heathe the night Joey was murdered, Rene attacked. But where did that put him? At the scene of the crime? She'd been fighting back the thought these past weeks, but now they surfaced with crystal clarity. Nate had been there, had been at the studio. He must have caught them together, his old girlfriend and the man he considered his rival, not just with his wife but also with his lover. A man he swore to kill if he ever saw him again. Yes, now it all made perfect sense. The truth was undeniable and Blythe knew too much.

Why had she waited so long? Why had she refused to face the truth? And why had she waited until it was almost too late, putting her own life in danger as well as Scott's? In the back of her mind, she knew what had to be done. She simply wasn't sure how to go about it. She had to get away from the ranch...today. She was certain of it.

Heathe had brought breakfast and lunch to the workroom and Blythe had accepted both gratefully. She ate small amounts from each and saved the rest, hiding the leftovers in the room where they wouldn't be noticed when Heath returned to take the trays away. By noon, she'd grown concerned because Nate hadn't left yet and she was worried he might have changed his mind about meeting J. T. and Eddie in Dallas. This terrified her. She knew there would be no way to get by her husband. He lacked the kindness and vulnerability of Heathe which, combined with alcohol, became major weaknesses.

Once Nate was gone and had plenty of time to return if he'd forgotten something, which he did often, Blythe went downstairs to start work on Heathe. She could tell he was slightly taken aback when she appeared suddenly at his side, bright and cheery, as if nothing had happened the previous day. He was certainly more than a little surprised, stunned was more accurate, when she pitched right in and started helping with the housework. Slowly, he began to loosen up and actually seemed happy and relieved by the transformation in her.

At times, Blythe almost felt sorry for Heathe, knowing he must get as lonely as she, locked away at the ranch as they both were. But she kept reminding herself that she'd been betrayed, that he only pretended to be her friend when in truth, he was nothing more than her husband's ally, accomplice, co-conspirator. Occasionally, she'd catch her heart throbbing in her head with the anger she felt and would have to force herself to smile at her hulk of a jailer. At other times, she wanted to scream, to lash out at him for his duplicity. But she kept her hands busy, consciously making an effort to control their trembling.

Now, she found Heathe's deep gentle voice an irritant that belied his cruel heart and it grated on her tautly strung nerves like unaccomplished fingers, plucking wildly on an untuned guitar. Every now and then, she'd excuse herself and step outside, taking several deep breaths to push down the bitterness in her soul which shoved its way to her throat.

Late in the afternoon, Heathe received a call from Nate and Blythe went about her business in the kitchen, making no attempt to peer into the office as she normally would. Heathe soon returned with the information that Nate wouldn't be back for dinner and they should go on without him. Wordlessly, she shoved cornbread into the hot oven and went to her room. There she ate some of the food saved from the two earlier meals before returning to the kitchen with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.