Gentle hands changed her bandages, and soft voices hovered above her, but Linx’s mind was full of cotton, not fully understanding. The pain ebbed and flowed, growing stronger at times and then receding like the tide.

She was alive, but no one told her what had happened to Minx. Had she been arrested? Or had she escaped? What if she’d been burned to death? The nurses mentioned someone else who hadn’t been as lucky.

Could Minx be dead?

The next time Grady visited, Linx asked him about Minx.

“She’s actually outside waiting for you,” Grady replied. “Shall I ask her to come in?”

“But, why isn’t she in jail?”

“I’ll let her tell you herself,” Grady said.

Linx closed her eyes and waited for Grady’s footsteps to depart. Why should she see Mean Minx before she saw her father and her brothers and sisters? Maybe the sheriff had a special deal with her to let her apologize before locking her up for good.

Moments later, the door opened and someone approached her bed. Linx tried to turn her head to the side to get a better look, but her head was held suspended and all she could see was the white pillow. She was braced in some sort of face down support foam to keep pressure off her burned back.

“Nurse?” she asked. “Can you help me turn my head so I can see?”

“Of course,” the nurse answered. “We’re trying to keep as much pressure off of your backside as possible.”

The nurse adjusted the pillow and turned her head to the side as a gowned figure sat down on the chair next to her. She wore a face mask, but her eyes were sharp and sultry at the same time.

“Your father called me, and I came as soon as I could,” she said, her voice soft and airy—not at all the rough and gravelly voice of the woman on the phone.

“Wait, why aren’t you in jail for kidnapping? How did you get Jessie into the trailer? Why am I talking to you? You tried to kill her and the puppy.”

Her mother spread her gloved hand. “I guess Grady didn’t tell you. It wasn’t me you spoke to on the phone. I was traveling through Nevada when I got the news.”

“Wasn’t you?” Linx’s voice was hoarse and strained. She tried to lift herself, but pain screamed through her bandages. “You told me that story about the Black Widow and the Firestarter. You said I had an evil heart like yours. You—”

“You told all of this to your friend, Salem,” Minx explained. “When Todd found her in the van, she was still talking on the phone, gloating about how she was going to get you arrested for kidnapping Jessie and setting fire to the trailer. She wanted to ruin yours and Grady’s lives because she believed you two ruined hers.”

“Salem Pryde? But she’d dead, isn’t she?”

“Apparently not,” her mother patted her bandaged hand. “Although she’s burned badly. Once she realized she was surrounded, she doused gasoline all over her van and lit it up. Of course, your brother had no idea Jessie and the puppy weren’t being held hostage, so they rushed in and rescued her. It turns out Jessie’s old dog was tied up to a tree outside the van, and they were able to save her.”

“Why did she do it? She had everything going for her. Paul, does he know?”

“Todd says she wanted to speak to Grady. It turns out she was pregnant, but lost the baby.”

“Whose baby?” Linx tried to lift her head, and all her skin chafed with pain.

“It no longer matters,” Minx said. “She doesn’t know, and this kind of stuff only comes between you if you let it.”

“Like it did for you and Dad?” Linx had so many questions. “Salem says I’m a fake Colson. Where would she have gotten that information? Is Dad my father?”

“Salem spoke to other people, pretending to be me. She told everyone I was a chain smoker, and since I’d been away so long, they believed her. Perhaps she spoke to your father and he talked about it …” Minx trailed off.

“Really?” Warning prickles stabbed the back of Linx’s burned skin. “You must be lying. Dad would know your voice anywhere.”

“How dare you call me a liar?” Her mother’s voice lowered from the saccharine sweetness she’d exhibited earlier. “I had an alibi. You can’t pin this on me.”

“Salem, or you, claim I’m not a Colson,” Linx persisted. “So tell me, who is my father?”

“Your father is Joe Colson,” Minx said. “Salem was stirring the pot.”

“And you know this how?” Linx jerked her face and narrowed her eyes, despite the pain, staring straight into her mother’s eyes—the ones that mirrored hers.

“Why are you so distrustful?” Minx stood. “I came to see you because Joe asked me to. Now, don’t get any ideas that we’ll ever be mother-daughter.”

“Do you hate me because of my real father?”

“I don’t hate you.” She bent over so close, Linx thought she’d kiss her through the face mask. Instead, she whispered, “I left because I would only have abused you.”

“Then I forgive you, and we can start over.”

“No. I am old, and I can’t change. I’ll leave a sculpture for you next Christmas.” She kissed the air between them. “Goodbye.”

* * *

“How’s she doing?” Mark and Jean Patterson asked Grady when he entered the hospital cafeteria for breakfast.

“Much better.” Grady picked up a plate of sausage and eggs from the grill. “She’s in a lot of pain, but able to stay awake for longer periods. Her mother came by to see her.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jean asked, wringing her hands. “I can’t believe Salem impersonated Linx’s mother.”

“That’s what happens these days when people rely on text messaging,” the pastor said. “You never know who you’re talking to.”

“But the voice must have been different, although Salem was good at impersonating people.” Jean put a small dish of Jello on her tray, topping it with fresh blueberries. “I should have been suspicious when she did the Easter skit and played the part of so many of Jesus’s disciples, each with a different voice.”

“Was Salem the fairy godmother Jessie spoke about?” Grady’s eyebrows shot up and a chill slithered up his spine.

“The police have a child psychologist working with Jessie to figure it out, but as far as we know, Salem was a sweet member of our congregation and she did a lot of babysitting,” the pastor said. “All the children and parents loved her and no one can believe she did this.”

“What if Linx’s mother framed her?” Jean collected two cartons of chocolate milk, putting one on the pastor’s tray.

Grady scratched his head. “She has an alibi. The police checked it out. The person Linx was speaking to on the phone was Salem.”

“True,” Jean agreed. “I guess we have to be more careful who we allow to work in the church nursery.”

“I’m putting together a new policy,” Pastor Mark said. “New members cannot work in the nursery and we must have two adults present at any given time. One must be a member for more than five years.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Jean said.

They paid for their meals and found a small round table.

“We’d like to speak to you and Linx together, if possible,” Pastor Mark said after saying grace.

“Yes, we are ever so grateful for the two of you saving Jessie’s life,” Jean added.

“Linx did all of it,” Grady said. “Both of us would give our lives for her.”

“We know you would,” Pastor Mark said. He shook salt and pepper over his eggs and dug in, avoiding Grady’s gaze.

“Yes,” Jean replied, but she looked worried.

They ate in awkward silence, as Grady wondered how he should proceed. On the one hand, Becca had assured him that a judge would hear the case once he had a positive paternity test, but the grace period for the adoption had expired long ago.

It wasn’t fair, and even though he’d forgiven Linx, it still burned that he’d essentially had no say on who would raise his daughter.

That moment when he thought he’d lost both Linx and Jessie was seared in his soul. He’d never experienced such raw fear, such paralyzing terror, and then the utter blessedness of sweet relief when he found Jessie and the puppy alive and unharmed under Linx’s protective body.

She’d taken the brunt, protected them with her back on fire, and she’d kept the fire shelter over them tightly, despite the pain raging over her every nerve.

Linx had fought to keep Jessie alive. She’d done the heavy lifting, and now Grady had to do his part—take the pain in his heart to let Jessie thrive emotionally.

Grady swallowed the tasteless toast and cleared his throat. He caught the pastor’s gaze and said, “I know you’re worried that I’m going to fight Jessie’s adoption. I never had a say in it, and it wasn’t fair what Linx did to me.”

Both Mark and Jean froze, eyes wide and fearful.

“I know how you feel,” Grady continued, “because at that moment when I thought Jessie had been burned to death, my entire heart and soul caved in.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Jean’s voice squeaked. “We all love her and want what’s best for her.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” Grady said. “And I have to follow my heart on this. In my family, we have a motto, ‘heart comes first.’ Even though logically, I should fight for my right as Jessie’s father, I know in my heart it would hurt her. It would hurt all of us.”

“What are you telling us?” Mark asked.

“I’m not going to pursue custody. I love Jessie and all I want is for her to heal after this ordeal. I want her to be loved and cherished, not fought over like a piece of meat.” Grady dropped his gaze to the table.

If heart really came first, why did doing the right thing slice his heart into tiny pieces?