“Wild night.” Drowsiness made her voice husky.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, laced it heavily with cream, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and sank down beside her. He scooted the chair a little more closely to hers. “You look wonderful.”
She grinned and then covered her mouth as she yawned. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t even taken time to comb my hair after running in out of the rain..what…six hours ago?”
He felt emboldened by the night’s excitement. “I’ll rephrase. You look wonderful to me.”
She blinked up at him as a faint blush touched her cheeks. “Why, thank you. I heard you and Beau helped deliver a baby tonight.”
“And I heard you saved Norville’s life tonight.”
Her grin faded. “That was scary.” She rubbed her eyes. “Horrifying.”
“It’s been a frightening night.”
She nodded and picked up her coffee cup, sipped, grimaced.
He slid his toward her and got up for another cup. “You can’t imagine how relieved I was to see you arrive whole and well.”
“Same here.” She took several small sips of the coffee. “After seeing the damage and nearly losing Norville, I was…just…really scared.”
“Brooke and Beau gave me a scare when they didn’t arrive immediately after the sirens began.”
She nodded and held the cup in her hands as if to warm them. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“When you have children…your own, I mean…it almost feels as if you’re doubly vulnerable. You have so much more to lose.”
“Triple that.” He knew exactly what she meant. What touched him was that she understood so well. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He felt her watching him as he poured another cup of cream with coffee. At this rate he’d have to nuke it, but the cream would stifle the hunger pangs until he had time to whip something up, and he didn’t want to waste time preparing food when he could be spending it with Lauren.
“I’m amazed we don’t have more patients,” she said when he sat back down beside her. “It’s almost empty out there.”
He remembered she hadn’t driven here. “Why don’t you take my car home tonight? The kids can pick me up in the morning and we can get your truck tomorrow.”
“Well….” She grimaced. “Not sure it’s drivable and not sure I could get it out of the parking lot. You heard about the uprooted trees?”
“Yours was one of them?”
She nodded. “Not the worst hit but right now it’s stuck.”
He broke protocol and kissed her forehead. “Finish that coffee so you’ll be awake enough to drive. You know where I keep my keys in my office. The kids can pick me up in the morning. Have you heard about any damage on your side of town?”
“We took the worst of it on this side. My neighborhood apparently wasn’t touched.”
“Brooke called as soon as she got home to tell me our house didn’t even have a limb down.” He had to suppress a desire to pull this beautiful, warm, exciting woman into his arms and kiss her more completely. Here they were talking about the logistics of the tornado damage when he wanted to tell her how vital she was to his happiness and how losing her to the storm tonight would not only have destroyed him, but his kids.
Instead, he drank his cream with coffee and luxuriated in her nearness for a few precious moments. They could talk about everything else later.
***
Archer found his wife slumped in a chair in the main hospital waiting room at one-fifteen. They had traded off during the hectic night helping with incoming patients and shuttling shuttling people from church to their homes in Archer’s car. He was amazed the car didn’t have a flat tire or two considering the debris. Her car was trapped but not damaged. Quite a few others were still in the lot, some slightly damaged and others crushed under the oak tree.
He sat down beside her. “Need a ride home?”
She straightened, stretching her arms in a wide lazy arc. She brought them around his neck with a sleepy smile. “Food first? I’m starved.”
He buried his fingers in her thick tousled hair. “Jessica Lane Pierce, how many times have I told you I love you?”
“Dozens.” Her jeweled hazel eyes held traces of characteristic humor.
“Only dozens? I’m going to remedy that.”
She giggled. “How are you—?”
“Until tonight I never realized how I’ve come to depend on you, how much a part of each other we are.” He brushed several stray waves of light brown hair from her cheek. “Sometimes when we’re together I almost feel as if I can see the world through your eyes. I know what you’re going to say next, what you’ll do.”
“I hope I still manage to surprise you some of the time.”
“You often surprise me,” he agreed, “but still there’s the feeling of being connected in a way I never dreamed possible.” He took her hand and pulled her from her chair. They strolled down the silent hallway to the equally silent cafeteria. At this time of night only the vending machines offered sustenance of any kind. He was just glad the power had been restored so they could utilize them.
He purchased two sandwiches and two cans of juice, then led the way past the empty food bar to a booth at the far end of the cafeteria.
“Tonight,” he said, sliding into the booth, “up on the patient floor with the tornado screaming through the building, I prayed harder than I’ve ever prayed in my life. I couldn’t help wondering if I would see you alive again—or if you would see me alive. All I could think about was you. I was desperate for you to be safe, desperate to tell you one more time how much you mean to me.”
She was silent for a moment and then said softly, “That helps.”
He stared out the window at the lights of Dogwood Springs. They had not been without power for long. The city lights revealed broken limbs, fallen trees, flooded streets that were already clearing. They’d had trouble finding a passable street between the hospital and the church but things would soon be back to normal. This hillside town didn’t hold water very—
He frowned as Jessica’s words seeped through his preoccupied mind at last. He looked at her. “Helps what?”
She squeezed his hand, released it, and leaned closer to the window. “My resentment over the time we spend apart.” Her voice was soft with apology.
Resentment? “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been out far too much lately. We haven’t discussed it in a while and I just took for granted that you were getting accustomed to—”
“I’ve tried not to nag you,” she said. “I kept thinking it would get better.” She continued looking out the window, studying the view through the filter of night, as if afraid to face him. “We’ve only been married a few months and everyone keeps reminding me that it takes time to learn how to be an effective pastor’s wife.”
“Effective pastor’s wife?” Archer couldn’t deflect the sharpness from his voice in time and he saw Jessica slump. “Sorry, Jess, but that’s a line of ridiculous... wait a minute, you were with the Netzes at the church tonight.”
“That’s right.” The dry sarcasm said it all.
Archer resisted the angry frustration that billowed around him. If the Netzes meddled in his marriage—
“She has a point,” Jessica said.
“Helen this time, is it? Oh, she always has a point, and it’s right on the tip of her tongue, sharp enough to slice a human—”
Jessica gasped and then chuckled. “Shh! Someone’ll hear you.”
“There’s no one around to hear except you and I want you to hear me.”
She placed her hands over Archer’s. “I thought Helen was best friends with your mother.”
“My mother is the kind of person who befriends the friendless.”
Jessica watched his mouth as if waiting for him to say more.
“Helen always had a sharp tongue and a critical spirit.”
“Always?”
“As long as I can remember. Helen and John lost two children years ago and I don’t think they ever really recovered.”
Jessica’s shoulders drew forward. “I didn’t know.”
“They had a son who died of cancer at the age of twelve. Their daughter was killed in an automobile accident a couple years later. Because of that I give Helen the benefit of the doubt but I still find myself avoiding her when I’m in a bad mood.”
“You? In a bad mood? I’ve never seen it. Thanks for telling me. I wish I’d known sooner. What a horrible loss.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Well, because of Helen’s interference Lauren has volunteered me to be the hostess of a late spring—possibly early summer—fling.”
“Lauren? We both agreed we wouldn’t allow the church to overwhelm you with more responsibility. I can’t believe she would—”
“It would be a musical held at the church. My part would be the singing. The other ladies would do the rest. She finagled that to keep me from being forced to play hostess in our home to hundreds of women the way your mother did every year.”
“I’m going to have to put a stop to Helen’s mischief. Our church wasn’t nearly as large then as it is now when Mom hosted those events and they wore her out.
“Lauren pointed out that the church has grown since then.”
“I’m sorry that conversation came up.”
“Lauren stood up for me like a champion in that basement kitchen. I’m seeing her in a whole new light.”
He grinned at his wife. “So you’re not jealous anymore?”
Jessica slapped his arm playfully. “Anyway, as for responsibilities, I’m on one committee—for the sake of appearances only—and they haven’t even had a meeting since I joined. I sing in choir when I’m home on Sunday. I helped out when they had that food drive. If taking on more responsibility would get you home more often, I’d be willing.”
Archer sighed. He knew he spent more time than he should visiting sick members at home, visiting people in the hospital, and following up on their recuperation, helping with the youth, counseling sessions with—
“I’m right and you know it,” Jessica said.
“No, you’re only partially right. You don’t need to shoulder my load.”
“Do you want us to just keep passing each other at the front door?”
“No.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
“Something I’ve put off far too long because I’m a coward who hates conflict.”
“It offends me that there would even be conflict, Archer. Everyone should be able to see how much you do. Besides, you’re not a coward, you’re a peacemaker, and stop fishing for compliments. Would it kill everyone for you to let your own needs take precedence for once?”
“I’ll have a little talk with the deacons and see if I can get some help—maybe a day off a week to start with and maybe a full-time youth minister.”
“You already have a designated day off,” Jessica said. “It’s called Friday in case you’d forgotten. You never take it.”
He opened her sandwich package and held it out to her. “Things are going to change.” He would see to it. He had a better relationship with the deacons now; maybe they would finally listen to him the way they’d listened to Dad when he was pastor. Dad had always been adamant about carving out time to be with his family during the week.
That didn’t seem like too monumental a request.
“Can we talk about something besides work?” he asked.
“Okay but maybe you and I could work on the musical together. It’s one way I could spend more time with my husband.”
It was wonderful to have a wife who wanted to spend more time with him.
Two late refugees from the storm entered the cafeteria and conferred with each other about the selections in the vending machines.
Jessica folded the wrapper back over her food. “Why don’t we take the food home with us? I could use some time with you right now.” She gave him a warm smile. “Alone.”
***
After a sandwich, Grant stretched out atop the covers on the call-room bed and closed his eyes. If he could take a nap he knew he’d feel better...
For some reason, however, he couldn’t settle down. Every buzzing telephone at the front desk and every passing car outside sent his eyelids back to full alert. And every time he opened his eyes he thought about Norville.
It wouldn’t hurt to go upstairs, pay a visit, and make sure Norville was resting comfortably.
Grant told Muriel where he would be and took the stairs to the second floor where two maintenance men were replacing the window at the far end of the hallway. They nodded to him as he passed.
In the OR recovery room a nurse hovered at Norville’s bedside charting vitals. Grant nodded to her.
She held the chart up for him to see. Everything looked good. Before long they would be transferring the patient to a regular room. He smiled at her, studied Norville’s relaxed face for another moment, and turned to leave, giving Norville’s right leg a gentle parting squeeze.
Norville moaned in his sleep.
Grant turned back, frowning.
The nurse looked up. “Is something wrong, Dr. Sheldon?”
“Has he been moaning like that since the surgery?”
“I haven’t heard a peep out of him until just now.”
Grant palpated the outer calf. Again Norville moaned.
The leg felt as hard as stone. Grant pulled back the covers.
“Dr. Sheldon? What are—?”
“We overlooked an injury.” Grant gestured to Norville’s leg, which was swollen very tight and mottled blue-purple—one giant bruise. Grant pushed the toes downward This elicited a more emphatic moan. A quick check revealed that the pedal pulse and capillary refill were within normal range. Thank goodness.
While Grant put in a call to the orthopedic surgeon, he prayed that Norville wouldn’t lose the use of his right leg.
***
At one-thirty Saturday morning, Lauren walked her friend out to the employee parking lot. “Thanks for helping out tonight, Gina. You’ll be a great nurse if you ever decide to leave respiratory therapy.”
“Like that’ll happen.” Gina unlocked her car door and opened it. “Speaking of which, you’d make a great nurse practitioner. They make better money than nurses.”
“They also have more responsibility. No thanks.”
Gina waved a hand in front of Lauren’s face. “Hello? Anybody home? If you can slice into a guy’s throat in the wake of a tornado you can handle anything that comes your way.”
“Not willingly. Someone else was guiding my hands. I’ve had enough of that kind of pressure to last me a while.”
Gina shrugged and got into her car. “Did you ever get a chance to talk to Grant?”
“Long enough to establish that both our houses are still standing.” The rest would remain private. She’d endured the rumor mill too many times. This time she wouldn’t help it along.
Gina gave a helpless shake of her head. “Lauren McCaffrey, for someone who’s practically engaged you’re far too independent.”
“I’m not practically—”
“And you’re not very receptive. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—and the way you look at him.”
Lauren shrugged and held up the keys to Grant’s car. “He’s giving me a ride home tonight. Is that good enough for you?”
Gina sighed. “At least the hunk is practical.”
Lauren chuckled at Gina’s obsession about romance. This time things were going to be different. “Go home and give Levi and Cody hugs for me.”
As Gina’s taillights disappeared into the darkness, Lauren discovered she was suddenly wide awake. For some reason she wasn’t ready to go home alone. Not tonight of all nights. She stepped back into the hospital and caught the sound of familiar voices from a nearby room.
“Just because we’re buds now doesn’t mean I’m going to apolo
gize for beating you up last year.” It was Brooke. What was she doing back at the hospital? She and Beau had gone home.
“Anybody needs to apologize, it’d be me” came a gruff unfamiliar male voice.
“That’s a good start,” Brooke said.
“Brooke, be nice,” came Beau’s quiet voice. He sounded so much like Grant.
Lauren stepped to the open doorway of a small conference room and discovered that the other person was Kent Eckard. At eighteen, Kent had the physique of one of those all-star wrestling actors. In the past year he had used that muscle to pick fights while getting involved with the drug underworld.
As incongruous as it seemed, Brooke, Beau, and their friend Evan Webster had gone out of their way to be friendly to Kent in the past two months—incongruous, because Kent had inadvertently accompanied a crazed drug kingpin to the school, where Brooke, Beau, and Evan had been held at gunpoint until the police arrived.
“Kent was just getting ready to tell us how he avoided prison at Christmastime,” Brooke informed Lauren. “Have a seat, this should be good.”
“Brooke,” Beau said, “he might not want to talk about it.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Kent said. “I’m getting used to your sister’s mouth.”
Brooke gave her brother a cheesy grin. “In other words, I’m right.”
“I been talking to your preacher about helping out in his drug awareness classes on Tuesday nights,” Kent said. “You know, telling kids not to do what I did. That meth really got to my mind, you know?”
“Well, duh,” Brooke said.
“Brooke.”
“Shut up, Beau. So Kent, why didn’t they lock you up?”
“They decided I hadn’t done nothing worth sticking me in prison. I was just with the wrong person at the wrong time.”
“So what were you doing with him at the school that night?” Brooke asked.
“He wanted to make some meth but he didn’t have the supplies because all his friends had been busted in that drug raid the week before. He knew I still had a key to the chemistry lab at school, so he made me go with him to get him in.”
“He made you go?” Brooke poked one of Kent’s muscles. “How’d he do that?”
“He had this gun, you know? It was huge.”
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