Scars of the Heart by Joni Keever

Something rustled in the straw near the ladder. Carly strained to hear or see. Just as she was about to convince herself that her fear was taking over, the hay moved not four feet away.
    Carly pressed her back to the rough wooden wall and stared at the spot illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. For a moment, nothing happened. But then the straw parted, and a wiggly black nose emerged. Quivering whiskers were followed by dark, beady eyes and pale little ears. The creature had a sleek black coat and a long, naked tail. It rose to its back legs and stared at her.
    She clamped a hand tightly over her mouth and fought for air through her nose. They sat there, motionless, soundless, inspecting each other, until . . . the rat dropped to all fours and scurried toward her.
    Carly could not have swallowed the scream had she been hiding from an army of Tinys. It rose from her gut, like a volcanic eruption. Without taking her sight off the stunned rodent, she clambered at the wall to her back, pinning herself in place with terror.
    Her pint-size persecutor stopped. With a flip of his tail, he turned and fled across a rafter to safety.
    The scream subsided, and Carly sucked in great gulps of air. She stared after the rodent with relief, grateful her reaction had frightened it away.
    And then she remembered.

#
    Kade tried to focus his gaze on his surroundings. His eyelids drooped. His vision blurred. Slowly, deliberately, he grasped the whiskey bottle by the neck and tipped it toward his glass. The trickle that ran from the spout soon turned to droplets. Kade blinked heavily. He turned the bottle toward him and peered inside. Empty. Damn.
    “We’re closin’, sugar. Time for you to go upstairs.”
    Allowing his head to roll back, he looked up at the smeared image of Ruby. She stared down at him, then motioned around the room. He couldn’t say for sure, but they seemed to be all alone. No more bad piano music, no more Tiny twins, no more Tess and what’s-her-name.
    He rose to his feet on wobbly legs. His chair toppled behind him, and Ruby took one arm as he regained his balance. She talked amiably as she led him to the parlor doors, though Kade found it hard to concentrate on her words.
    “You can make it from here, sugar. Night-night.”
    Her deep chuckle rumbled as she turned and left him. His vision seemed clearer now. He started across the foyer toward the stairs.
    “Well, sir, turnin’ in for the evening?”
    He followed the sound of the voice to the registration desk. Clive stood smiling at him. A recent memory tugged at the corner of Kade’s mind. Carl. He’d sent a bath and meal up to her; the eastern lady with the aversion to dirt, the boy who wasn’t, the very reason for Kade’s current state of drunkenness.
    “Did everything go well earlier, with the bath?”
    “Oh, yes, sir. Well, indeed. Your little friend seemed pleased with the hot bath and his new attire. Ate every bite of that dinner, too. Thoughtful uncle you are.”
    Ignoring the probing tone in the man’s voice, Kade grasped the banister and placed one heavy boot on the bottom step.
    “Funny thing, though,” Clive continued from behind the counter. “When I went up to fetch the tub, he was gone. Never saw him come down the stairs. Reckon I could’ve missed him, but—”
    “Gone? What do you mean gone ?” Kade still gripped the wooden railing, but he turned to face the smaller man.
    “Just that. Gone. Not in neither room. Weren’t in the parlor with you. Nowhere else to go in town at night.” Clive shrugged and placed the registration book and brass bell under the counter.
    Kade climbed the stairs, mulling over the stranger’s statement. He checked his room first because that door was nearer to him. The interior was quiet, untouched. Passing through the adjoining door, he found a much different setting.
    A hurricane lamp burned brightly on the bedside table. The covers had not been disturbed. Carl’s old clothes lay across a chair. Kade crossed