Yesterday's Roses

by Heather Cullman

  Stunned, Hallie sank to her knees. Over and over again she cried Jake’s name. Then she too fell silent. It was finished.

  Raw pain rushed over her. Her Jake was gone, buried beneath a ton of charred debris. Never again would she hear the warm timbre of his voice as he called her his sweet Mission Lady; never again would she see the dimple crease his taut cheek as he smiled down at her with gentle humor, and, most wrenching of all, never again would she know the security she had known lying wrapped in the safe cocoon of his arms, comforted by the reassuring strength of his heart beating against hers.

  Never again would she know a love such as she had known with Jake Parrish.

  Dear Lord! Help me! Hallie doubled over clutching at her belly. I hurt so bad! Her agony was unbearable, her sorrow paralyzing.

  She felt herself being pulled into Davinia’s embrace and through the red mist of her pain, she heard the woman speak. Slowly Hallie raised her head to stare into her friend’s face. She, too, was crying.

  Wordlessly they clung together, sharing their grief. One woman mourning the loss of a cherished friend, and the other, the death of the man who was her heart’s blood.

  With a sob, Hallie closed her eyes and buried her face against Davinia’s shoulder. In the despair-filled darkness of her mind rose the ghost of Jake as he’d looked when she had left his bed.

  He had been so beautiful, lying there in the dim morning light. Like a peaceful child, he’d slept, lying on his side with his face cradled against one fisted hand. Even if she lived to be a hundred, Hallie would never forget the way his long lashes had curled in dark crescents against his cheeks and how his lips had been twisted into a smile, as if he were dreaming a particularly naughty dream.

  Sometime during the night he’d thrown off the blankets and now was lying there in all his naked splendor. Possessed by an overwhelming ache to touch him, she’d let her fingertips gently explore the muscular planes of his torso. She loved the way he’d groaned in his sleep and become aroused by her caress.

  And at that moment, she’d wanted nothing more than to stimulate him until he was awakened by the urgency of his need. She’d longed to take him deep inside her and ride him until they met on the wild crest of their mutual pleasure.

  But she’d been too much of a coward to follow her heart’s desire, too embarrassed by the memory of her own unbridled wantonness to face her lover in the morning light. So she had simply kissed his cheek good-bye, savoring the feel of his stubbly beard against the passion-ravished flesh of her lips.

  Hallie let out a strangled cry. What she hadn’t known was that she’d been saying good-bye forever.

  “Hush now, dear,” whispered Davinia, soothingly patting her friend’s shoulders. “We don’t know for sure that they didn’t get him out. He might be all right.”

  Hiccupping violently, Hallie raised her head and gazed into Davinia’s face. The woman’s expression was woefully unconvincing.

  “Ma’am?”

  Both woman spun their heads around with whiplash speed. It was the burly fireman who had carried Hallie away from the fire.

  “Jake? Is he …” Hallie choked before she could finish her question, frightened of his reply.

  “He’s alive. But, well—” The man looked down at the helmet in his hands and fidgeted nervously at the emblem.

  “Where is he?” Hallie sprang to her feet, fear gripping her heart. It was obvious by the way the fireman refused to look at her that something was terribly wrong. “Take me to him.”

  Nodding, the man took her arm and escorted her around the wreckage of the Mission House.

  As they entered the back yard, Hallie saw a handful of firemen standing around a figure on a blanket. Even from a distance, she recognized the long, elegant lines of Jake’s body. Crying his name, she picked up her skirts and ran to him. The brief seconds it took to reach him seemed like forever.

  “Jake, darling,” Hallie whispered as she knelt by his side. Even without examining him, she could see that he was badly injured. His breathing was little more than a fast, shallow wheezing, and as he exhaled, he choked on the thick black mucus that was bubbling from his nose and mouth. His face was too covered with soot and the blood from the gash on his forehead to tell how badly he’d been burned, but Hallie could see that his eyes were swollen shut. He appeared to be unconscious.

  Using a soft corner of her petticoat, she gently wiped the suffocating secretions from his nostrils and lips. She was glad he couldn’t see her, for she was unable to stop the tears from coursing down her cheeks.

  Fighting the panic welling up inside her, Hallie laid her fingertips against Jake’s neck and felt his pulse. It was racing at an alarming speed. Not a good sign. She’d treated only one other patient in this condition before, a child who had been trapped in a factory fire. It had been when she was a student back in Philadelphia.

  Respiratory burns, her instructor had told her. Usually fatal. And in that case, they had been. Hallie could only pray that Jake would be luckier.

  “Chief Killian, ma’am. At your service,” offered a middle-aged man who came forward and knelt next to Hallie. “He took in an awful lot of smoke. He was unconscious by the time we got him out, but we were able to get to him before the fire touched him. His burns shouldn’t be too severe.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” It was Hallie’s burly rescuer. “Anything for Mr. Parrish.”

  There was a murmur of assent through the quickly gathering crowd. It appeared that Jake was very popular among the group.

  “We need to get him home where he can be properly tended,” she replied with more confidence than she felt. “He also needs to be propped up. It might help to ease his breathing a bit.”

  Nodding gravely, Chief Killian barked orders to his men. One man went to get a stretcher, the other to secure a wagon. Everyone seemed eager to help.

  Two of the firemen carefully raised Jake’s head and shoulders onto Hallie’s lap so she could keep his airways swabbed clear. As she sat holding the unconscious Jake, alternately whispering unheard words of love into his ear and wiping away the mucus, Hallie braced herself for the biggest battle of her life.

  Her opponent would be death, and the prize they both coveted was Jake’s life.

  Suffocating … dark … cold. Jake struggled to see through the roiling black mist. It was everywhere. Endless shadows surrounded him, closing in, smothering him. He tried to breathe, to fill his oxygen-deprived lungs, but he couldn’t. There was no air. Just fog. Murderously thick, wet fog that slithered deep into his airways. Blocking them … choking him. Making his lungs ache and his throat burn.

  He would die if he didn’t escape. Desperately he searched for a beacon, for some feeble light to guide him out of the oppressive gloom. To take him where the air flowed free; to someplace warm.

  Warm? A sob escaped his lips as pictures, vivid and terrifying, flashed through his mind. Awful memories of heat, smoke … and Hallie. Fire. He remembered fire. Hallie … sweet Hallie. Safe? Yes. But he’d been trapped … it’d been hot. Scorching. Hurt.

  Then why was he so damn cold? Why was he shivering so uncontrollably, convulsing with the chill?

  Strange. It was as cold as the grave.

  Grave? Panic, more visceral and hideous than anything he’d ever experienced before, paralyzed him. He opened his mouth to scream. Nothing. Silence.

  As silent as death.

  Had they thought he was dead? Had they buried him alive? Or was this death: a great void with no heaven or hell? Eternal darkness?

  Jake tried to scream again. This time he heard a low, hoarse cry. His cry. He wasn’t dead.

  They’d buried him alive.

  Frantically, he struck out, desperate to beat against the confining coffin lid. Had to get out. To the air … the light. Escape.

  But his fists simply flailed in empty, airless space.


  Where the hell was he?

  Terrified, he flung his arms out to his sides, searching for something solid. Something familiar. Anything.

  Still nothing.

  Disorientation made him violent. Ignoring the way every move made his body scream with pain and left him breathless to the point of suffocation, Jake thrashed about wildly. He had to get out … before he died.

  There was something wrapped around his naked body.

  Tangled … in something cold … damp. His shroud?

  He let out a horrified sob and clawed at the fabric. It twisted around his hips. Repulsed, he tried to hurl himself as far from the foul thing as possible.

  Then he felt a steely grip clamp around his shoulders, restraining him. He arched his back, trying to escape.

  “Jake! It’s all right, darling.”

  Darling? Had he heard Hallie’s voice? Or had it all been a cruel trick of his imagination?

  “H-Hallie?” he whispered, frantically groping in the dark, looking for her. Please, God, let her be there.

  “Hush, darling. I’m here.”

  Jake felt something cool and rough against his cheek. Hallie. Yes. He’d know the feel of that calloused palm anywhere. Relief took the fight out of him, and he let his body fall limp.

  Everything would be all right now. Hallie was here.

  With a sigh, Seth released his hold on Jake’s shoulders. Christ! he thought as he watched Hallie peel the urine-soaked sheets from his friend’s hips. Even during that terrible crisis period after he’d been wounded, Jake had never lost control like that. It frightened Seth more than he cared to admit.

  Feeling as if he would go crazy if he didn’t do something to help his friend, he asked, “Is there something I can do?”

  “Light,” Jake rasped in reply. For though he could feel Hallie touching him, he wanted to see her face.

  Hallie exchanged a worried look with Seth. What could she tell Jake? That his eyes were swollen shut from the heat and smoke and that she couldn’t promise that his vision would be restored even after the swelling was gone? She had cleaned his eyes the best she could, but his eyelids were so badly swollen that she couldn’t open them enough to determine if there was damage. Only time would tell.

  “Light … n-now.” His voice came out in a soft gurgle. Then he choked as something thick and wet clogged his throat. Painfully, he surrendered to a paroxysm of coughing.

  Hallie carefully eased Jake’s head into her lap, where she held him until his hacking stopped. He sounded as if his chest was being ripped apart, and by the tears seeping from the corners of his eyes, she could tell that it felt as bad as it sounded. As Hallie swabbed the dark mucus from his nose and mouth, she was horrified to see that it was tinged with blood.

  “Light.”

  Swallowing hard, she tried to inject a note of encouragement into her voice. “Your eyes are swollen shut … from the heat and smoke. You’ll be fine in a few days.” She prayed that she was right.

  Jake lay silently absorbing the meaning of her words—and the false note of cheerfulness in her tone. Had he heard her breath catch as well?

  Strange. When you’re blind, every subtle shading of the voice reveals the truth behind the words. He felt his guts twist with dread.

  Blind. Was that why Hallie had sounded so distressed? Was she groping for a gentle way to tell him the truth? A sob escaped Jake’s lips. The very thought of living the rest of his life in such helplessness was devastating.

  “Your eyes will be fine. I promise.” And if God couldn’t forgive her that lie, then so be it. Hallie could read the fear in every tense line of Jake’s body, and there was nothing she wouldn’t say or do to reassure him.

  “Will you trust me, darling?” she whispered, gently stroking his heaving chest.

  He nodded once and calmed beneath her touch.

  “Good. You also inhaled a lot of heat and smoke, and your air passages are swollen. That’s why it’s so hard to breathe.” She paused while he succumbed to another fit of coughing.

  “Your lungs are badly irritated from the smoke, and they’re full of secretions. I know it hurts, but you need to try to cough up all the mucus. Can you do that for me?”

  “Try.”

  “Good.” She could only hope he had the strength to do it.

  In the long hours since they’d arrived at the house, Hallie had had a chance to fully examine Jake. His body was as badly bruised as if he had been severely beaten, and the forearm he’d used to clear the glass from the window frame was deeply gashed.

  Gently she touched his bandaged left arm. Thanks to Seth Tyler, she had been able to stitch his worst wounds properly.

  Hallie smiled gratefully at Seth, who was kneeling next to Jake recounting a naughty story involving a prostitute and a donkey. When this was all over, she intended to find out exactly where the man had found a medical kit to replace her burned one. After all, it was Christmas night.

  “Hallie?”

  “I’m here, darling,” she crooned, seeing Jake groping the air around him, searching for her. Tenderly, she took his hand in hers and cupped his cheek with her other palm. Like a kitten to its mother’s belly, he nuzzled against her.

  At least Chief Killian had been right about the burns, she thought, staring at his beloved features. Jake’s face was in no worse condition than if he had received a very bad sunburn. It probably hurt, but barring infection, there should be no scars.

  She watched as Jake tried to smile at the punch line of Seth’s story. Dear God! How she loved him! He was such a strong, brave man. It broke her heart to see him so vulnerable.

  Hallie felt tears prick her eyelids. If only she could help him, make him better. But, of course, there wasn’t much she could do. Except pray.

  And put dry sheets on the bed. Which she did with Seth’s assistance. When the bed was made and Jake comfortably propped against a mound of pillows with a cooling compress on his eyes, she set about bathing him.

  As she gently washed his male parts, Hallie was amazed at how at ease she felt handling him so intimately. Strange to think that even as recently as two days ago, she thought of touching him down there as an embarrassing ordeal. Now it seemed perfectly natural. Jake obviously agreed, for after tensing briefly at the feel of the wet cloth, he relaxed and lay still beneath her ministrations.

  “Like it … touch … there,” Jake wheezed. And she did. Not that he was any more capable of getting an erection at the moment than he was of flying to the moon. Still, he liked the fact that she cared enough to tend to him so personally. Especially when she could have just as easily summoned Celine to do it. The intimacy of her actions made him feel secure in her love.

  He heard her chuckle as she swaddled what felt like a thick cloth between his legs and secured one end over his manhood.

  “You’re a rogue, Jake Parrish,” she teased, giving her handiwork a final pat. As she pulled the warm covers up over his nakedness, she added, “I don’t doubt that you’ll revert to your old ways soon enough and accuse me of poking at you.”

  “Never—” but Jake was overcome by an agonizing attack of coughing before he was able to finish his sentence. God, it hurt! He was sure he’d die if he didn’t catch his breath.

  Then he felt Hallie slip her hand in his, and he clung to it with the desperation of a drowning man. Her touch gave him strength; it comforted him.

  “I love you,” he heard her murmur, and he felt her press a kiss to his forehead. When his coughing finally ceased, Jake lay limp and trembling, fighting for his breath.

  Hallie was terrified. He sounded worse, much worse.

  The rattling in his chest scared her, and he was getting weaker.

  Struggling to keep the panic out of her voice, she whispered, “Try and sleep now. It’s past midnight. You need to rest.”

  “Stay?” he gasped. The effo
rt almost choked him.

  Hallie squeezed the hand in hers. “Forever,” she vowed.

  If only she could promise him a lifetime first.

  Chapter 21

  By the following morning, it became apparent that Jake’s injuries were as bad as Hallie had originally feared. His condition had deteriorated during the night, and by noon his fever had begun to rise at an alarming rate.

  Every breath he drew sent him into paroxysms of coughing, doubling him over to clutch painfully at his midsection, gasping for the air he was unable to inhale. And like those of a stallion brutally run to ground, his nostrils and lips became flecked with a dark, bloody foam.

  “Try to breathe slowly, darling,” Hallie coaxed, as Jake began to thrash wildly about on the bed, making frantic choking sounds. Tenderly, she stroked his chest and, to her relief, he eventually calmed beneath her hand.

  He was so helpless in his blindness, so terrified of being left alone. All through the night, he had clung desperately to her hand, growing panicked if she broke contact even for a moment.

  Never in her brief medical career had Hallie felt such frustration as she did now, watching the man she loved struggle for his life.

  Insidiously the fever snaked into Jake’s brain, coiling around his consciousness and squeezing out his last vestiges of lucidity. With the delirium came violence.

  Baring his teeth in a growl, he struck out at the shadowy assailants lurking in the corners of his febrile mind, cursing in a manner colorful enough to bring a blush even to the worldly Seth Tyler’s cheeks.

  At one point, as he engaged in a frenzied battle with the demons of his twilight state, Jake threw himself off the bed and reopened the cut on his forehead. It took

  six burly male servants to restrain him while Hallie tended to the wound. It was then that Seth and Hallie reluctantly agreed that the only way to keep Jake from doing himself further harm was to tie him to the bed.