Nightchild

Chapter 62

It was noon the following day when Nate awoke and going to the kitchen in search of food, he found Eddie Vega impatiently waiting.

"Shit, Stevens, you got a fuckin' plane to catch in less than three hours. What'd ya do, tie one on last night?' Eddie smirked knowingly.

Nate grimaced at the obtrusive voice that grated on his already splitting head. "Yeah, I tied one on," he admitted, sitting wearily at the table accepting a steaming cup of coffee from Ma Manford who though clearly relieved not to be watching over Claire Stevens any long, was none-the-less disgruntled.

"Well, I declare, the both of you don't have the good sense God gave a chigger," she mumbled, an expression she'd gotten from Harvey. "Miss Blythe hasn't come down either. You'd think I had nothin' atoll better to do than stand in the kitchen all day waitin' ta feed you two your mornin' meal!"

Nate squinted up at the old woman who stood at the sink in front of the window, bathed in glaring sunlight. "Blythe hasn't been down?" he asked nonchalantly, feeling guilty about last night and not at all sure he wanted to go through with going away. Now sober, he couldn't imagine not being with her.

"Not to my knowledge, she hasn't," Ma answered indifferently as Nate turned to Eddie who gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Why don't you go check on her, Ma? See if she wants some coffee."

The elderly woman shrugged and went irritably up the backstairs, fussing all the while about the inconsiderate young people it was her misfortune to take care of.

"What a grand old lady. Does she always bitch like that?" Eddie asked smugly.

Sarcasm from Eddie Vega was the last thing in the world Nate needed now. "She is a grand old lady and she can bitch any damn way she pleases. I wouldn't have her job and have to put up with us for all the money in—"

"Mr. Nathan!" Ma hollered from the stairwell as she scurried down with the spryness and agility of a woman half her age. "She's not there, son!"

"Whadaya mean, not there?" He was on his feet.

"As in gone! Miss Blythe's gone! Her bed hasn't been slept in. The good Lord only knows, she'd never dream of makin' it..."

Nate was heading for the garage before the woman could finish her sentence. In seconds, he was back, stampeding up the stairs with the gut wrenching knowledge that something was wrong. Ma followed and watched with a heavy heart as Nate tore open Blythe's closet doors, pulled open drawers. Everything he'd bought her, all the things he'd given her were there, were left behind. Gone was her luggage, the personal items she'd brought with her to the ranch. It was like she'd left behind anything to do with her husband, any reminder of the past they'd shared and worst of all, it was reminiscent of Nate's father, what he'd done to Claire Stevens, to his son...the coldness, harshness of the departure. There was no note, no explanation.

She must have left before dawn or risk being seen, which meant she could be hundreds of miles away by now. How could I have been so stupid, Nate thought wildly. How could I have imagined living without her in my life even for a moment. He'd been such a stubborn fool. He knew it. He'd driven her away and now it was too late. Or was it?

Brushing by Eddie who waited impatiently in the hallway, Nate went to the office and began making calls. The first was to J.T., begging him to use his influence to help find Blythe. The next call was to Detective Bradley Leonard with the same request. It was several hours later before Nate was off the phone, leaving it to Eddie to cancel his flight and square things with Chance and the studio where he was to have taken the screen test.