* * *
The rest of the afternoon went by with the dull pain of a headache. Laura fulfilled her promise of a horse ride and even raced down the beach with Kelly seated in front of her. The little girl loved it and was smiling again. Laura found she had to force her smile.
After a light supper, dishes, a bath and bedtime stories, Kelly was fast asleep, and Laura was alone on the first floor, in Richard's library. She found a box of old photos and papers in the garage, hoping for a picture of Kelly's mother and father to frame and at least give the child some type of connection. Curled in the large leather chair, a glass of wine nearby, she sifted through the piles on the desk. Some were very old, some stuck together because of the humidity and were ruined. Then she found a clear plastic envelope with newspaper clippings. She spilled them on the desk and picked up the largest.
The headline read Entrepreneur Richard Blackthorne Involved in Train Crash.
There was a picture of a car, metal twisted and still locked in the front grate of a train. She could tell a chunk of the car had to be cut away to get him out.
She read the article that told of the crash. A pregnant woman had gone into an epileptic seizure and had been trapped in her car on the tracks. Richard had tried to get the woman out, but the seizure locked her limbs and he couldn't move her. Witnesses to the scene said he'd returned to his car and with his vehicle he'd nudged her compact car across the tracks and out of danger. But not in time for him to get across the tracks. The oncoming train clipped the rear of his luxury car, throwing him into the door, the force driving him through the window. Witnesses said the train continued to drag him and his vehicle for nearly a mile before it stopped.
Laura's hands shook before she finished the article, mostly about Richard's business, his awards and philanthropic donations.
At the bottom was a grainy photograph of Richard before the accident, flawlessly handsome in a tuxedo, and then, beside it as the press was often known to print, was a graphic photo of Richard being loaded into an ambulance. His left side and his head were completely covered. His arm hung limp and was covered with blood, with only his signet ring visible.
Laura picked up another article. Richard Blackthorne in Grave Condition, one headline read. Blackthorne Released from Hospital, Plastic Surgeons Say Damage Is Too Severe. Blackthorne Refuses Interview. There was one about him being awarded by the City of Charleston for his bravery and a picture of the woman and infant he'd saved. Richard's ex-wife accepted the award for him, and her only comment was "My husband's recovery will be slow and hard. He wasn't thinking of the consequences when he came to Mrs. Argyle's assistance, and despite his injuries, he doesn't regret it."
Even on paper, Andrea Blackthorne's comment sounded bitter to Laura. She peered in the box, searching, and on the bottom she found the plaque. For his selfless act of bravery without regard to his own safety… City of Charleston awards its most favored son…
A hero. There were more awards and recognition listed in the clippings and not once had Richard appeared to accept them.
Who'd saved these? Because she didn't believe for a second Richard wanted to relive this. She suspected Dewey had and didn't know why she knew that. Andrea Blackthorne had left him after the accident and that told her she couldn't handle the man Richard had become when the bandages had been removed.
She sighed, thinking she might be wrong. Maybe their marriage was on the rocks before, and the accident had been what pushed them further apart. It ticked her off no end that Andrea had left such a mark on Richard that he hid in the shadows. Who's to know what would have become of him if his wife had accepted the results and stood by his side. The darn woman should have been proud of her husband's bravery, his selflessness. She put away the articles, returning her attention to locating a suitable picture or two for Kelly. She found one each of Andrea and Richard, and when Laura stared at his eyes in the picture, she saw Kelly. Does Kelly smile like him? she wondered. She'd only glimpsed the unmarked side of his face once, when he was chopping wood.
Suddenly, the feeling of being watched washed over her. "That's creepy, Richard. Stop doing it. One of these days you're going to scare me, and I'm going to have to hurt you. Where are you?" she snapped when she couldn't find him in the dark.
"Here." He waved, and she saw him near the suit of armor tucked in the corner. It was hard to tell which was man and which was metal.
"Shall I turn out the lights, start the smoke machine so you can hover on the edge of life some more?"
"I see your wit is rapier-sharp tonight."
"Well then, you're not as stupid as I thought."
"What the hell does that mean?"