A Love Redeemed

by Lisa Jordan

  Shelby Lake Memorial came into view.

  Finally.

  He parked quickly, jumped out of his vehicle and raced to the emergency department’s automatic doors, the wind whipping though his unzipped jacket.

  The dark blue vinyl chairs in the waiting room were full. The wall-mounted TV blared some ridiculous talk show that nobody seemed to be watching.

  Tucker darted around a teenage girl feeding a dollar into the vending machine and headed for the triage desk. Christy, one of the emergency department’s nurses, looked up from her monitor. “Hey, Tucker. Your son’s in bed three.” She pressed the button to open the doors to the exam area.

  “Thanks.” He hurried through the door and located exam room three. He slid open the glass door covered by a blue privacy curtain and found Landon dressed in street clothes lying on the bed, his eyes dark and sunken in his pale face with a nebulizer mask strapped over his nose.

  He glanced at Willow, whose eyes were red and blotchy, then hurried to Landon’s side, smoothing back his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

  Landon pulled the mask away. “I ate a chicken nugget that made me sick.”

  Tucker looked over at Willow. “A chicken nugget? I thought he ingested a mushroom.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Mom and Dad took us to lunch before they were going to head home. The kids ordered chicken nuggets, and there must have been a leftover breaded mushroom in the fryer, or else one got mixed up in the nuggets somehow. Landon ate half and then said his throat was itchy and bees were in his mouth. I administered his EpiPen and Mom called 911.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Tucker.”

  “Hey, it’s not your fault. Your quick thinking saved his life.” He gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Has he been given Benadryl or steroids yet?”

  “Yes, they gave him doses of both and Albuterol to stabilize his breathing. The doctor will be back in a few minutes.”

  Landon pulled his mask away again. “Daddy, I’m scared.”

  “Hey, buddy. I’m right here. Don’t you worry—the doctors are good. They’ll fix you up in no time.”

  “I don’t want a shot.”

  The desperation in his voice nearly unhinged the emotions had Tucker grappled with while driving through town. Tears warmed his eyes, but he blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. His son needed him to be strong.

  “I can’t promise they won’t, Lando, my man. The doctors will do what they think is best, but I will be right beside you the whole time, okay?”

  His son nodded, but fear rounded his eyes.

  Still holding Landon’s hand, Tucker sat on the edge of his son’s bed and scanned the vital signs monitor showing Landon’s heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation and respiration. He rubbed a thumb and finger over gritty eyes.

  The door slid open, and a doctor with dark curly hair wearing scrubs and a white medical jacket entered the room. He extended a hand to Tucker. “I’m Dr. Weller. As you can see, we’ve administered medicine to open Landon’s airways. We’ve given him Benadryl and started him on a course of steroids. Normally, we’d observe him for three to four hours, but after talking with Landon’s pediatrician and getting a family history from your sister-in-law, I think it would be best to keep him overnight to ensure his body reacts positively to the treatments.”

  Tucker nodded, trying to process the doctor’s words.

  Christy, one of the nurses, came into the room and assessed Landon’s vitals, then turned to Tucker. “They have a room ready for him upstairs. We’ll take him up as soon as he’s done with this treatment.”

  The numbers on the monitor screen climbed rapidly as Landon shook his head and tried to pull off the mask, tears leaking down the sides of his face. “No, Daddy. I don’t wanna stay. I wanna go home.”

  Tucker cradled his son’s body and pulled him into his lap. Not caring about protocol, he sat on the bed, untangled Landon’s monitor wires and held his son against his chest. “Calm down, buddy. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you all night long.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course.”

  Feeling his son relax in his arms, Tucker leaned back against the pillow and held him until he fell asleep.

  When the orderlies arrived to transport him upstairs, Landon had stirred when Tucker had to release his hold on his son.

  Several hours later, after Landon had fallen asleep in the middle of a cartoon, Tucker slipped out of his son’s room, leaving the door open.

  He stood in front of the window by Landon’s room, close enough to sprint back inside if his son awoke.

  The snow had stopped, but the storm inside him continued to batter his spirit, leaving him weary and broken.

  “Tucker.”

  He turned to find his dad walking toward him. For a moment, Tucker wished he could be the five-year-old once again and run into his father’s arms, knowing his dad would make everything better.

  Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dad. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to be with you. So you’re not facing the night by yourself.”

  Tucker’s throat thickened as his vision blurred. He scrubbed a hand over his face, struggling for control over his emotions.

  He had to think, to figure out how to get through this. To keep his cool and stay strong.

  Instead, he wrapped his arms over his chest. “Dad, tell me what to do, how to fix it, how to make the hurt stop. I’m so afraid I’m going to lose him. Like I lost Rayne. Then how will I survive?”

  “No matter what you’re facing, you’re not doing it alone.” His voice gruff and thready, Dad opened his arms.

  Without a word, Tucker walked into his father’s embrace, buried his face in his dad’s shoulder and wept.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isabella would do just about anything right now to get away. To escape the early snow to a tropical island where she could lie in a hammock under a shady tree while a breeze off the ocean cooled her sun-warmed cheeks. And her biggest decision would be which book to read or dinner to order, what color of flip-flops to wear as she walked along the beach.

  But with the temperatures dropping and the late-autumn winds shaking the last clinging leaves from their branches, she was far from a tropical getaway.

  She just wanted to clear her head and figure out how to move forward with her tangled life. To forget about her mother’s rejection, the guy who’d managed to steal Isabella’s heart, the twins who’d burrowed so deeply inside her that she couldn’t imagine not being a part of their lives, her father who wanted to sell the diner.

  As if she could forget any of them.

  And this was why she fought to guard herself and avoid romantic entanglements, because giving away her heart only led to pain.

  Her eyes gritty from lack of sleep and tears pressing for release, she finished cleaning the kitchen at the diner and headed upside to start packing.

  Thankfully, Jeanne hadn’t found another roommate yet, and since Isabella had paid rent until the end of the month, she’d decided to return to their apartment for the time being until she could figure out what she was going to do with her life.

  She’d come back to help Dad move once he decided where he was going, but until then, she needed some distance.

  Flipping on the light to her bedroom, she reached for her laptop on her desk. Might as well check for job listings and see what was available.

  Her eyes strayed to the framed photo of her and Tucker holding their first-place ribbons in the air after winning the junior cook-off.

  Back when life was easy, breezy and carefree.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Somehow, she needed to pick up the shards of her shattered heart and piece them back together.

  Cradlin
g her laptop against her chest, Isabella slid onto her bed and pressed her back against the headboard. She kicked off her shoes and dug her toes under the knitted afghan at the end of her bed.

  “You look like you’re fifteen all over again.”

  Isabella looked up to find her dad standing in the doorway with one shoulder pressed against the doorjamb. “Mind if I come in?”

  She waved him in and set her closed laptop on her nightstand.

  “How are you doing?”

  She shrugged. “Fine. Figured I’d see what jobs were available, then I’ll start packing.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve been so surly since you came home from the hospital. I feel like I’ve been a major inconvenience since I’ve been here, but don’t worry, I’m leaving in the morning and moving back in with Jeanne. I’ll be out of your way so you can do whatever you want with the diner. I’ll take as much of my stuff as will fit in my car and make arrangements to have the rest donated.”

  “If you’re moving back in with Jeanne, does that mean you took Justin up on his job offer?”

  “No way. Justin’s a jerk, and I never want to work anywhere near him again. He said I was a greasy spoon girl and that’s all I’ll ever be. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know. I’m not even sure I really care. And after his snide comments at the competition, it’s apparent he never believed in my abilities. I’m moving back in with Jeanne because I need a place to sleep while I figure out what to do next.”

  “Oh man. Bells, I messed up. Big-time.” Dad scraped a hand over his face then moved closer to sit on the corner of her bed. “I have a confession—I lied about wanting to sell the diner.”

  She stared at him, struggling with wanting to hug him and wanting to wring his neck. “Why would you do that?”

  “I overheard your conversation with Justin and didn’t want the diner to stand in the way of your career.”

  “What is it with you men jumping to conclusions and deciding what you feel is best for me? I’m a grown woman who can make her own choices, you know?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I do know. But being your old dad, I just want what’s best for you.”

  “Even if it means pushing me away? Like Mom?”

  “I’m nothing like her and you know it.”

  “Sorry, cheap shot.”

  Red crawled up his neck. “I’m sorry—that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

  “So, what’s going on?”

  Dad pushed off the bed and walked to her window. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I saw your mother.”

  Isabella blinked and shook her head as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water in her face. “What? What do you mean you saw my mother? At the competition? Did you talk to her?”

  He shook his head. “No, this was several months ago—at the beginning of her tour to promote her new cookbook. I drove to Pittsburgh, bought her book, stood in line for two hours to have her sign it, rehearsing my words over and over, only to have her not recognize me. Even when I asked her to sign the book to my daughter, Isabella. Not one flinch, no comment about her daughter being named the same. Nothing.”

  Isabella moved off the bed and walked over to him, pressing a hand to his back. “Oh Dad...”

  He shoved his hands in his front pockets and shrugged. “I just didn’t care about much. I wasn’t feeling well. Went to the doctor and learned about the diabetes, but I didn’t even care about watching my diet or anything. Started picking fights with George. Business was sliding. I needed new equipment, so I got a loan, but then I didn’t care about paying it back. And now it may be too late.”

  “No, it’s not. We aren’t giving up.”

  “Bells, you’ve always been an encourager, quick to see the good in people and wanting the best for me. But let’s face it—my irresponsibility has caused this. Maybe it would be best to sell the diner. People are complaining about the changes anyway.”

  Changes she’d forced on him.

  “So what? We can’t please everyone, Dad. Focus on doing what’s good and right for the diner. George was a grumpy old man who didn’t respect you. Get someone younger in here who has a passion for cooking and wants to learn from one of the best. If we have to close down again to retrain a whole new staff, then so be it.”

  He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No, Bells. I can’t. I’m too tired to do this alone.”

  “Who said you were doing it alone? I’m by your side—the same place I’ve been since you bought this diner.”

  “I thought you were moving back in with Jeanne.”

  “Only because I felt like you were pushing me away.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I couldn’t get out of my own way. You came in so ready to revive a failing diner, and I felt like you didn’t need me, so I tucked tail and stayed away. Then Tucker approached me about working with his family on the community garden. I should’ve been more appreciative. Instead I pushed you all away. Can you forgive me?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Of course. But Dad, I will always need you. You have the expertise and know customers like Bernie who wants a spoonful of chicken broth over his eggs, but you need to evolve instead of being stuck in a time warp. And you need some healthy options to balance the greasy spoon fare.”

  He reached for her chin. “And you need to be yourself—you’re a fantastic cook, especially with your homemade comfort foods that people were raving about when the diner reopened. Chef Scott was correct—you know how to take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. But Joe’s All-Star Diner is not a fine-dining establishment.”

  “Well, maybe I can do a little of both worlds.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She explained about catering Jake and Tori’s wedding and the requests that came from that event. “I love doing those events, and I need a licensed kitchen, so what if we partner? I will help out with the diner when needed and work on expanding my catering business. And you will stop keeping me in the dark about stuff.”

  He wrapped his strong, muscular arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Now that’s a partnership I think I can work with. How about we create a business plan and then talk to the bank together? Even though the past few months have been a bit patchy, I’m sure they’ll give you a start-up loan, especially if I cosign for you.”

  “Dad, you’ve done so much for me already. Let’s get the diner squared away, and then we can focus on expanding. Oh, and if that man wasn’t interested in buying the diner, then who was he?”

  “Leonard’s my new accountant. Realizing I can’t do it all, I decided to give up jobs that I detest, like accounting and payroll.”

  She shook her head. “You deceived me.”

  “And I’m sorry. Let me ask—how does Tucker fit into your plans?”

  “Tucker? He’s just a friend. There’s no future for us.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I’ve seen the way he’s looked at you, and honestly, that man has more than friendship on his mind.”

  As much as Isabella wanted to lean into her father’s words and let them take hold, it was much safer to believe she and Tucker were destined for nothing more than friendship. That way, maybe she could work at putting her heart back together, piece by piece.

  * * *

  What had he done?

  Tucker sat in an uncomfortable chair next to Landon’s bed while his son slept, fatigued from the allergic reaction that nearly wrecked his small body. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he cradled his head in his hands.

  Still dressed in his paramedic uniform from yesterday and a day’s worth of shadow scruffing his jaw, Tucker longed for a hot shower and his own bed.

  The last forty-eight hours have filled him a raw weariness he couldn’t seem to shake. Last night, he’d tried to doze next to Landon’s bed, but every sound and movement had him shooting to his feet for fear of losing
his son.

  And if that wasn’t stressful enough, he couldn’t get Bella out of his thoughts.

  The last thing he wanted was to keep her from pursuing her career.

  But apparently he wasn’t enough.

  Landon’s day nurse came into the room, her soles quiet against the gleaming tile. She checked Landon’s oxygen stats and the rest of his vitals and made notations on the laptop she carried. She smiled at Tucker. “If you want to grab some coffee or something, I can sit with him for a bit, so if he wakes up, he won’t be alone and scared.”

  Nodding, Tucker scrubbed a hand over his face and stood. He needed coffee. Something to revive his brain cells that continued to scatter his thoughts.

  Then maybe he could swing by the gift shop and buy a T-shirt and a razor to help him feel a little more human.

  He rode the elevator to the first floor. The doors opened to reveal his family standing on the other side waiting to get on—Dad, Claudia, Jake, Tori and even Evan and Micah. And Olivia.

  “Daddy!” Livie barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his legs.

  He stepped off the elevator and scooped her up and crushed her to him, her presence filling in some of the cracks and crevices in his chest. “What are you doing here? Did you drive?”

  “Daddy, you’re so silly. Papa drove us.” Livie shimmied out of his arms and raced over to grab Micah’s left hand. “Look, Uncle Micah’s here, too.”

  “I see that.” His chest swelled as he connected gazes with each of his brothers. Jake, dressed in his faded jeans and an untucked flannel shirt standing at parade rest. Evan, face still tanned in mid-November with sun-highlighted short hair, wore a long-sleeved T-shirt advertising a kayaking company and olive-green cargo shorts with a pair of leather flip-flops. Micah, his full beard nearly concealing the red, puckered skin on the right side of his face, had long, shaggy hair and wore a faded sweatshirt with the right sleeve hanging empty at his side, jeans with holes in the knees and worn, unlaced combat boots.