by Cheryl Wyatt
“I know, just…thanks.”
Joel reached across Manny to tap Nolan Briggs on the shoulder. “You’re in charge in my absence. Find the pack he kicked off. Bring it to me at Refuge Memorial.”
Nolan nodded. Joel peered past Nolan’s shoulder. “Brock, sit the rucksack search out and get that swollen ankle X-rayed when you guys come to the hospital.”
Brockton Drake nodded from the opening, then limped aside while Vince Reardon, Ben Dillinger and Chance Garrison pressed in. Vince grasped Manny’s hand, bringing it tight to his chest before relinquishing it slowly as Joel and the paramedic pulled Manny on in. Nolan swallowed when his gaze skittered across Manny’s legs as they slid past.
Manny didn’t miss the wince on Chance’s face, either. He hadn’t learned to control his facial reactions like the rest. From their expressions, he must have a compound fracture or two.
Manny wished he didn’t have any medical knowledge to compound his fear. He focused on his team, looking in at him through the side hatch.
Maybe not such a good idea.
Faces didn’t strain or squirm like that unless things were critical. His team could hide how bad things were, but the other skydivers approaching in waves behind them couldn’t.
“What happened to Brockton’s ankle?” Manny asked Joel.
“Hard landing.” Joel grinned. “Though not as hard as yours.”
“My fault. He probably got distracted watching me bite the dust.”
“Actually, he held his cool pretty good. He hurt his ankle because his legs took off running after you in midair before his feet ever hit the ground. Once he landed, he was the first one to you, sprained ankle and all. He didn’t even take time to click off his parachute, just dragged it behind him as he sprinted to where you’d crash landed.”
The image Joel’s vivid words created caused Manny to chuckle. “Ouch.”
Maybe laughing wasn’t such a good idea, either.
The hatch closed. Five noses and ten hands pressed against the outside of the glass, peering in at him.
Looking as if they feared they’d never see him again.
Manny lifted his hand, pressing his palm to the inside of the glass. Each teammate pressed their hand to his a moment before letting the next guy have a turn. Each mouthed something, most of which Manny couldn’t make out because the threat of tears over feeling thoroughly loved and cared for clouded his vision.
The helicopter lifted. Dust swirled. Hands fell and faces faded away. Images entered the oblique.
Sounds muted. Wind from spinning rotor blades ceased to roar through his ears. Sleep overtook him again. He figured someone stuck a sedative in his IV. Joel? Joel remained right beside him.
He would. Manny felt his prayers, his presence.
How could he even think for a blink that he’d be left alone or abandoned? Risking their lives together day in and day out had formed a brotherly bond stronger than Kevlar. He hadn’t realized how deep it ran until today.
Thank You. I’ll never take them for granted. Ever.
His pain eased. So did the anxiety. If he died today, he’d leave loved and he’d be okay. For all that, he was beyond glad.
Still—
My times are in Your hands, but I’d sure like the chance to live out my recovered faith. I’d also still love to be a PJ if You’d care to swing that in my favor.
Manny didn’t want to ponder all the things that could snatch the dream away, paralysis being one. He fought despair. He’d lived in its murk before, right after his toddler son drowned and his marriage imploded over it. He didn’t want to ever go back there. He’d rather die than never skydive with his team on rescue missions again.
Please don’t take that from me. But if You do, help me be faithful to You, even if my worst nightmare slaughters my dream.
A warm hand on his shoulder soothed and calmed him. Joel? Was he still here? What was that flowery smell? Did Heaven have hairspray and roses? Manny forced heavy lids open a pinch.
A thick head of stylish black hair bowed beside him. Full, red lips moved silently as though in prayer. If those features hadn’t given her away, the creamy caramel skin, courtesy of her Latin heritage, would have. His eyes saw, but his mind couldn’t compute. He stared unblinking at the last person he ever expected to be here at his side.
Celia Munez?
He’d recognize those ebony curls and characteristic cherubic cheeks anywhere, he’d stared at them enough.
Confusion spun his thoughts around. How did Joel’s wife’s best friend and co-teacher get in the helicopter with him?
Furthermore, why?
Especially after the way he’d treated her at Joel and Amber’s wedding reception? Celia and Manny’s parting words to one another had been guard-dog vicious.
“Ello,” he rasped. His throat felt like he’d swallowed razor wire.
Impossibly long lashes fluttered. Luminous almond eyes flickered open to stare at him. Startled first, then her face took on a look next that he could only interpret as expect no mercy.
Something like an anvil weighted his chest at the negative transformation.
“I knew Joel wouldn’t let me ride with these pretty flight nurses sans chaperone,” Manny slurred, attempting to break the ice with humor. The flight nurses had all been guys, except one who had to be his mother’s age.
Her eyebrows squished together. “You’re not only out of the helicopter, you’re out of your mind. You’re in the hospital. You had a great crash and a bad nap. Your nurse says it looks like you shattered your hip and your tailbone pretty good.”
“I’m surprised you’re here.” Manny swallowed. He longed for some water but doubted they’d even clear him for an ice chip.
A smirk bracketed her mouth. “Yeah, well, someone has to keep you in line. I made Joel and Amber and the rest of the parachute pack go eat. They’ll be back soon.”
By her rigid stance, not soon enough.
“What are you doing here?”
She folded arms tightly across her chest. “They asked me to come pray for you, so I did.”
In other words, if she had a choice, she wouldn’t be here.
I’m sorry.
The words tickled his tongue to tell her but she turned to stand by the window, putting her back to him. She sniffed and flipped hair over her shoulder.
He could take a far-from-subtle hint. She wasn’t up for chatting. Fine. He had better things to do than stare at her stiff back. Manny faced the wall opposite of where she stood. He counted how many ugly orange flowers coated the wallpaper and lost track of how much time passed.
Anything to delay being first to speak into the silence stilting the room.
Not one word, not even a huff came out of her. When Joel and Amber returned, Celia left without a parting glance at him.
The metal side rail creaked as Joel leaned on it. “What’s up with the scowl, Péna? You two have another altercation?”
Manny cast a sour look at the door Celia blew through as though one more second in the room with him would inflict her with the plague. “She ignored me the entire time.”
But that wasn’t exactly true. She’d been praying with her hand on his shoulder when he’d awakened. He was sure of it.
She’d acted startled, embarrassed even. Snatched her hand away as though his skin had erupted in boils. Then she’d clammed up and closed herself off.
But she hadn’t been fast enough. He’d glimpsed all he needed to. Beneath that tough, street-smart exterior lived a human with feelings. Feelings he wanted to know. What kept that tempest brewing in her dark and alluring eyes?
Call him crazy, but Manny wanted to know her, everything about her. First he had to find a crack in her mortar, then figure out his mode of attack.
He may as well begin with prayer, because it would require the big guns to break that impenetrable shell and to convince her that, by God’s continued grace, he was not the same man who’d blatantly and tactlessly disrespected her at the Montgomery wed
ding.
“She’ll eventually cool off and warm up to you,” Joel said. “I asked her to put you on the prayer list at church and be in charge of updating it.”
If Manny could snicker painlessly, he would.
“She may put a notation of praise in the bulletin.”
Joel gave his head a firm shake. “No. Celia’s got a temper but she’d never celebrate an accident of this magnitude.” An unmistakable smirk saddled Joel’s mouth. “Even if he did proposition her at her best friend’s Christian wedding.”
Embarrassment assaulted Manny but he felt too sleepy from medications to defend himself. Joel knew Manny’s remorse or he wouldn’t tease. Manny had already apologized to Joel and Amber that he and others had drunk heavily before their worship-oriented wedding. The Montgomery couple had shown only grace toward the team in the aftermath. Manny was the only one as far as he knew who’d acted shamefully toward attending ladies, though. He only remembered waking up with a guilty conscience, a sore lip, a nasty hangover and severely wounded pride.
A horrible thought struck him. What if Celia didn’t forgive him? How would that adversely affect her faith? “I don’t know, Joel. She still seems pretty mad.”
Joel’s expression deadpanned. “Maybe. But a young widow like Celia would never take even microscopic pleasure in another person nearly losing their life.” Joel grinned. “Even if she did order you to drop dead at the punch fountain. Pun fully intended.”
Chapter Two
“Serves him right.” Celia Munez planted freshly manicured hands on her hips, careful not to disturb her damp red nail polish.
“Celia!” Amber Montgomery’s face jutted out and her mouth popped open.
Guilt sucker-punched Celia. She flapped her arms and put resolve in her voice. “Well, fine! Okay. I’m glad he didn’t die. Otherwise, his dented rear bumper would be on fire right now in the devil’s place. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good pine tree.” Not that she meant any of the last part, but it amused her to watch Amber’s eyes bug out.
In addition, she had to put up a front of irritation and indifference toward Manny because she didn’t need anyone knowing she’d been stricken with feeling something totally opposite.
Or how her heart had tugged for intense, emotional moments watching him writhe in the hospital bed this morning. Seeing his body bruised and scraped from head to toe had rattled her then and still haunted her now.
The last person she’d seen in that sort of shape had been her husband in his casket. That day’s images branded her memory. She could still hear gut-wrenching sobs from a younger Javier as he’d clawed and clutched at his father’s police uniform.
Wake up. Please, Dad. Mom and I are so sad. Please, please wake up, get up and come back home with us.
Her son had grieved with open abandon for his father, begging words everyone else in the room only had courage to scream from their minds. Despite soulful pleading, Joseph had lain there cold and still. Four hours after the close of the graveside service, they’d had to literally drag a sobbing Javier away from his father for the last time.
Celia closed her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out images. A blue-silk pillow cradling the head of her soul mate. Funeral home walls obliterated by an onslaught of ornate flower arrangements. The cold of his hand. The unseeing eyes. No warmth. No response. All she’d wanted to do was to throw herself over that expensive box and wail for him like her son.
She shivered at the memories.
They’d assaulted her earlier at Manny’s bedside, and they took her mind hostage now.
Please let Manny be okay. Don’t make his team go through losing one of their own.
Prayers had bubbled out of her for Manny at the hospital, too. She couldn’t help touching his skin, reassuring herself the warmth of life still resided in him despite how bad he appeared.
Wake up. She’d whispered Javier’s words to Manny and begged God to make it so.
Then he had.
Embarrassment had caused her to act feisty toward him. Regret for harsh words seemed the story of her life. As hard as she wished to take it back, life didn’t provide do-overs.
“Actually, Celia—” Amber started then stopped when Celia jerked back to attention.
“Joel mentioned Manny gave his life to God a few weeks ago.” Amber pulled Psych the cat into her lap, and studied Celia.
Too carefully.
It alerted Celia that Amber may be on to her. Amber didn’t keep secrets from her, and she shouldn’t keep them from Amber. Guilt waylaid Celia. Still, she wasn’t ready to reveal what she couldn’t even explain to herself yet.
Better to keep up the front while she could until she managed to figure out these confusing emotions.
“Ha.” The music to the oldies song, “That’ll Be the Day,” played in Celia’s head. She wrestled the temptation to hum it out loud to elicit a reaction from Amber. She hated her immediate tendency to doubt another person’s faith. It wasn’t for her to judge whether Manny was for real or not. Then why did she?
She knew why.
Her hypocrite father, the deacon who’d lived one way at church and another at home. She’d lost count of her mother’s bruises to prove it. Celia shook her head to rid herself of pity. She’d tried and tried to help her mother get away.
Amber dropped her arms. “You don’t believe Manny?”
That’s not why Celia shook her head, but now that Amber mentioned it, Manny’s brazen actions at the reception zipped into sharp focus.
Fat chance he’d changed his tune all that much in so little time. Character took years to build, even with God at the helm. Right? Look how many years she’d been asking Him to help her control her tongue. Yet Celia’s verbal assaults had only gotten marginally better over the years.
This so-called conversion could be a ploy.
She’d seen Manny’s type before. And heard. And smelt. And felt. In the violent words, angry fists and abusive face of her father who reeked like a brewery gone bad. Except on Sunday when he smiled and smelled sickly sweet of Heaven’s Glory cologne. A yearly gift from the congregation who adored him and had no idea the man he was at home.
How Celia abhorred that smell.
“Celia?” Amber set the cat down, brushing fur off her pants.
Celia lifted her chin. “How should I know his motives? Besides that, why should I care?” Or give him the benefit of the doubt? “This doesn’t concern me whatsoever.” Never mind that his half-sedated grin upon waking had thrown her pulse for a roller-coaster loop.
“We invited him to stay with us while he’s recovering from surgery.” Amber tickled Psych under his collar with her toe. “Refuge has one of the top rehabilitation centers in the nation. Manny is considering the doctor’s suggestion that he recover here. They’re looking at six months due to the reconstructive surgery his injuries require.”
Six months? Would the nightmare of Manny never end?
Celia’s arms flailed around again. “Whatever. I can’t stand that guy and he can’t stand me. It’s a mutual dislike.”
But she could hardly steer clear of Amber’s home due to the fact they were deep in the throes of several large projects, including care packages for soldiers overseas and community programs. Amber’s house was where all the supplies were mailed and stored. Celia would just have to find a way to steer clear of him. That, or perfect the art of ignoring.
“At least pray for him.” Amber sighed. “He should be out of surgery by now, but Joel hasn’t called. I’m concerned. I can’t get any of the guys on their cells, and the nurse couldn’t give an update over the phone. I’d like to ride back to the hospital to check on him but it’s almost time for school to get out.” Amber’s voice cracked. She eyed her phone, then the wall clock.
Celia chewed her lip. “You should be there for Joel in case things aren’t going well.”
Amber ran a hand through her hair. “But I need to get Bradley off the bus.”
Pings of remorse hit Celia. She should o
ffer to go with Amber back to the hospital. Right now, she was still too embarrassed by what Manny had said to her brazenly in front of a room full of their friends. Not only that, he’d flirted with her all night before making it vocally clear how he’d like his evening to end. Guys like that she needed to steer clear of. She refused to be a cheap conquest in that PJ’s bullet belt.
Not to mention shame had draped her like negligee-sheer curtains, giving away her secret attraction toward Manny. Drawn from the first day she’d met him year before last at the school, clad in camouflage. He’d stood behind Amber as Joel parachuted to the lawn to honor ill Bradley’s wish. Celia flushed at the memory of the interested glances Manny’d tossed her way. Like two people playing ball on a tennis court, he’d tossed some doozies to her, then watched to see if she’d throw the flirt ball back.
She hadn’t.
Hoo-boy, how she’d wanted to.
But she hadn’t. He wasn’t the kind of guy to get involved with. He radiated danger in every way. To her faith. To her wild past. To her heart. To her promise to herself never to fall for guys packing heat again.
She needed a man with a desk job. One who brandished a protractor or a calculator or even a ruler. Not powerful guns and wicked-looking knives strapped to their person. Yeah. Bring on the geeky guys.
How boring.
She hadn’t been prepared for how bad she’d feel facing Manny for the first time after the reception. Nor how seeing the battered scar on his lip would remind her how she’d lost control and acted hideously by striking him.
Just like her dad. The one person she’d sworn never to be like. To top it off, Javier had sauntered into the reception hall that moment, witnessing her slap Manny. Javier had been as angry as Manny. They’d both stalked out opposite doors. For the first time, Javier stayed gone all night.
Recalling the violated look and red splotch on Manny’s face at the hospital this morning had spurred remorse and she’d rested her guilty hand on his arm. Celia’s thoughts had zipped back to the present when Manny decided at that precise moment to awaken.
She’d never felt so uncomfortable in the presence of another human being as she did while Amber and Joel grabbed a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria, leaving her alone with Manny. And her errant thoughts.
