He sensed rather than saw the mare toss her head, fighting Leo for control.
“If you don’t stop her, Leo, she’ll rupture the cord or the placenta.” They could lose either mare or foal to excessive bleeding or infection. “I’m a little busy on this end.”
Without stopping, the mare gave one last push. The foal’s legs slipped free. Gage’s arms filled with seventy pounds of slippery horseflesh still connected to fifteen hundred pounds of anxious mare. He couldn’t walk behind her like this much longer. And the foal needed oxygen.
“Leo. Stop her.”
The Devil bucked, missing her foal, but connecting with Gage’s ribs instead. He fell to his knees as a haze dropped over his vision. Distantly, he heard voices and footsteps. Bodies surrounded him. The foal was lifted from his arms. And then everything went dark.
* * *
EVERY TIME GAGE gasped for air, Shelby did, too.
“Shallow breaths,” the EMT reminded him.
Shelby grimaced. She’d heard the crack of hoof against bone. She’d heard the speculation back at the birthing stall while they waited for an ambulance.
Broken ribs. Collapsed lung. Internal bleeding.
Gage could die.
The ambulance rocked over a pothole. She gripped Gage’s hand tighter.
She’d wanted to live her life in a cocoon, but she’d let Lucky in. And then she’d let Gage in, foolishly assuming that because he’d given up mountain climbing and white-water rafting that she wouldn’t blink and he’d be gone.
His eyes were scrunched closed. His skin pale. His hand in hers inert.
Unbidden, the image of Nick’s face in the morgue rose in front of her. The room had been so cold she’d shivered, while the smell of antiseptic made her feel queasy, made worse when they showed her Nick’s body. His blond hair was in a tangle. She’d smoothed it. Bruises replaced the smile she was used to seeing on his face. She’d kissed his cool forehead and turned to bury her face in Gage’s warm chest.
Beneath the blanket on the gurney, Gage’s chest was battered and swollen. His eyes were closed. His face was hidden behind an oxygen mask.
She couldn’t stop hearing the crack when the mare had struck him. Couldn’t stop seeing his body thrown against the wall. Couldn’t stop the chant in her head.
Dead Gage. Dead Gage. Dead Gage.
Stupid, stupid nickname.
Her entire body fought the notion of losing him. Gage was here, with her, his chest rising and falling, if not deeply, at least regularly. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead.
But he could’ve been.
* * *
GAGE KNEW HE wasn’t dying by how slow his medical care was.
Concussion? Yes. His head pounded painfully, like a teenager with a new drum set. The hospital staff made sure he sat upright and instructed Shelby to keep him awake.
Ribs? Cracked, not broken. Shallow breaths and slow minimal moves were the way to go.
Collapsed lung? No. Internal bleeding? They were running tests and monitoring him for shock.
It was Shelby who looked to be in shock. The color had left her face. And when she spoke to the nursing staff there was a distant hollowness to her voice that did nothing to reassure him.
They’d transferred him from the emergency ward to a room with putty green walls and a picture of the windswept California coast. He preferred Secretariat.
Had Leo done this on purpose? Gage found that hard to believe. As hard to believe as Leo being unable to control the mare’s head.
“I’m okay,” he whispered hoarsely after several unsuccessful attempts to speak.
From her chair at his side, Shelby nodded tightly. “I called Grandpa so he wouldn’t worry. And I told Christine I’d be in late tomorrow. If I come in at all.”
Although she touched a lock of short hair on his forehead, he couldn’t stop the feeling that she was drifting away from him. Not the quick way that he’d lost Nick, but with the slow pace of the Harmony River, drifting around the bend and out of sight forever. Fear of losing her made him tense up, made him breathe too deeply.
He gasped and writhed as if he was dying. He just might be if the look on Shelby’s face was any indication.
“Don’t,” he said finally, when he could form words without his ribs cutting off air. “Don’t. Give up. On me.”
Her eyes widened. And she shook her head. “I’ll be right here.”
He knew she wouldn’t lie to him.
Still, he couldn’t help but think: For how long?
* * *
GAGE WAS RELEASED late the next morning. They took a taxi to the equine hospital to pick up his truck.
Shelby was thankful for the stick shift. Working the gears kept her mind off of other things.
As she drove them to Harmony Valley, Gage dozed in the passenger seat, occasionally breathing too deeply and awakening with a gasp of pain. Each time, he reached over to pat her hand and ask, “Are you okay?”
How could he ask her that and not realize what a stupid thing it was to step into a stall with a crazy hormonal horse?
Shelby wanted to scream. Instead, she nodded when he asked, and kept her eyes on the road.
When they arrived at her grandfather’s house, Shelby helped Gage into bed. She tugged off his boots, got him a glass of water and carefully propped him up with extra pillows.
Grandpa fussed. “It’s a fluke. Happens now and then. But your color’s good.” He pushed his glasses up his narrow nose. “When do you think we can reopen the clinic?”
Shelby herded Grandpa out of the bedroom with instructions to feed the kittens and check Fanny’s splint.
“I did that already,” Grandpa complained.
“Then do it again.” She closed Gage’s door in his face.
Gage had a soldier’s grin that told her he was in pain, but not dying. Not this time anyway.
She didn’t believe in anything anymore.
Shelby sat on the edge of his bed, took his hand in hers and closed her eyes against the tide of emotions that threatened her—fear, regret, heartache.
I will not cry.
“I’m okay,” Gage murmured, squeezing her fingers.
“You can train someone to go in there with you. Someone better than Leo. Train someone who cares about animals.” Train me!
It was a dumb idea. So dumb, she couldn’t even say it out loud, because she was afraid. Afraid he’d reject her offer almost as much as she was afraid he wouldn’t. Disgusted with her cowardice, she left him and walked out.
* * *
“WELL, LOOK WHAT the cat fought and dragged in,” Mae said when she opened the door.
Shelby wrapped her arms around Mae’s skin-and-bones frame, and began to sob. Mae let her. Mae really didn’t have much choice, since Shelby couldn’t seem to let go.
When the tears were spent, she and Mae went to the couch, moved skirts of satin and lace aside, and sat down. She handed Shelby a box of tissues.
“What on earth is wrong?” Somehow, one of Mae’s penciled-in eyebrows had rubbed off, probably on Shelby’s black T-shirt. Who could tell? Black hid stains.
After recounting what had happened to Gage, Shelby blurted, “Why do these guys need to test the limits? Why can’t loving me be enough?”
If she’d been expecting sympathy, she should have gone to her grandfather. “A man can’t define himself by who he loves,” Mae scoffed. “Men need a purpose in life outside the home. You said Gage was good with horses.”
“He’s been kicked twice in a month’s time. If I was his insurance company, I’d cancel his policy.”
“And how many times has he been kicked in his whole career?”
Shelby shrugged. She didn’t want to imagine his bruised flesh, his pained, belabored breathing.
“Never mind.” Mae held up a hand. “You want safe? Doesn’t exist. No one can promise you’ll be safe. There are cancers and drunk drivers and earthquakes. All kinds of things you can’t predict, not even here in Harmony Valley. Home of predictability.”
“It’s different than running to danger.”
“My third husband, Marvin, was the exact same. He ran to danger. But he was a fireman and he was trained. I worried about him until the day he retired, but that was his job and he loved it. How many of us have that? Or a man who’s happy and fulfilled and comes home to you every night? Perhaps a little battered, but in need of some kindness, some tenderness.
Shelby glanced at the pictures of Mae’s husbands on the mantle. Mae was talking about Marvin as if he was still alive. “So you divorced Marvin?”
“I... He...” Mae frowned. “It seems like he’s still here with me. But he’s not. And Oliver isn’t...” Mae blinked, staring at the room in confusion. “Who are you?”
A new fear raced through her veins. “I’m Shelby.”
Mae laughed awkwardly. “I remember you. You’re my...my...”
“Friend.” Shelby stood. “I’m going to call the doctor. Is his number by the phone?”
“If you’re my friend, you’ll realize I don’t want the doctor. I’m going to die here. At home, where I belong.”
“But—”
“No doctor.”
Shelby got out her cell phone. “Then I’m calling Sheriff Nate.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“YOU REALLY MUCKED things up with Shelby.” Doc dragged a kitchen chair into Gage’s bedroom.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Gage whispered, whispering being less likely to aggravate his rib cage.
“Since Nick died, Shelby’s been playing it safe.” Doc’s gruff voice filled the room, comforting in its familiarity. “It’ll take a lot to get past this.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
Gage stared at the picture of Secretariat leaning against the closet door. “She can’t get past who I am.”
“You don’t define yourself by what you do.” Doc gestured at him. “Young people and their dreams. Give me a break. Relationships are about give-and-take, compromise and being happy with a path taken with your spouse, regardless of whether or not it was the path you thought you’d take when you were a kid.”
“I’m not ancient. Shelby just started a job here.” He sucked in a shallow breath. “With the potential to make a difference. From the ground up. That doesn’t happen often.”
“Love doesn’t happen often,” Doc retorted. “Why is it Shelby has to be the one to compromise? She might be right. You don’t seem to have a good track record with horses.”
“You’d like to see me stay.” Gage gasped in pain. “That was your plan all along.”
“I have no plan, son. I want you two to be happy.” The gruffness turned into a grandfatherly tone. “Now, the way I see it, you can wish Shelby well and go to Kentucky. And the work there will be fulfilling—when you’re working—but those nights when you’re home? Those will be lonely. And Shelby will be out here throwing herself into her work, occasionally adopting another animal. Oh, she’ll tell herself she’s happy. She’ll visit Nick’s grave. But she won’t venture out, not out of this house and not out of her comfort zone.”
“It’s what she wants.”
“In the two years since Nick passed, you’re the only thing she talked about.”
Gage listed toward the wall. Pushing himself upright was agonizing. “Dead Gage.”
“You were top of mind. Then you came back and I watched her watch you.” Doc removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses with his flannel shirttail. “If you think Kentucky is more important than Shelby, by all means, leave tomorrow. I want her to have a full and happy life, but it’ll be a long time before she ventures out for any man.”
“Your hypothesis doesn’t include an important factor. Shelby isn’t sitting here nursing me to health. She left. That’s what she does. She runs and hides.”
Doc doled out a pain pill and handed him the water bottle from the nightstand. “Even a timid rabbit has to take a stand sometime, son. Put your faith in her. You won’t be disappointed.”
* * *
MAE POINTED AT the cocktail wedding dress hanging from the light fixture. “If you want to make me feel better, go try that on. The shoes, too.”
Shelby had called the sheriff and told him her concerns. He was in Cloverdale and couldn’t get back for another thirty minutes. “Mae, I—”
“Those are my terms, girlie.” She coughed for a full minute. “I’m so tired. Too tired to go to the hospital. What an undignified place. Everyone wants a look-see... I’m just not going.” Her smudged brows drew down. “Try on the dress or go.”
Shelby thought it best not to argue. She took the dress and the shoes, and ran down the hall to the bathroom. Mae’s house was the same floor plan as her grandfather’s, so she knew the way.
The wedding dress was a sheath. It was just her size.
Mae was right. The dress suited her. She slipped into the shoes.
She thought of Gage’s smile when she presented him with her bad cooking. Of the tender expression on his face after he kissed her. Of how right he felt in her arms.
I love him.
She loved his humor and his patience with her. She loved how he had a way with animals. She even loved how he was willing to risk his life to help them. When she was with him he made her feel smart and attractive and alive.
Not safe.
Could she be like Mae? Could she think of Gage as if he was a fireman or a policeman? Someone trained to handle a dangerous situation?
She didn’t want to be safe anymore. She wanted to live.
It meant leaving this job and moving to Kentucky. Since that’s where Gage was going to be.
Her hands were shaking as bad as Mae’s had been.
She opened the door and rushed into the living room. “Mae, you’re right. I love Gage and—”
Mae was silent, slumped in her chair.
“Mae?” Shelby reached for Mae’s wrist, trying to find her pulse. There was none. “Oh, Mae.”
She hurried back to the bathroom, retrieving her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans. She punched in Sheriff Nate’s number and told him what had happened. Shelby then returned to Mae’s side and held the woman’s hand. Mae hadn’t wanted to die alone. She’d also wanted to die with dignity. And she had. When Sheriff Nate arrived, he looked at Shelby, at her fancy dress and shoes, at the room full of fancy dresses and fancy shoes, but said nothing.
“She wanted you to have the rose-colored one.” Shelby pointed to the dress over a kitchen chair.
Nate swore.
Shelby stayed and waited for a medical person to pronounce Mae dead. She stayed until the mortuary arrived to take Mae away. She told them about the wedding dress. They told her Mae had come in a few days ago to make her funeral arrangements.
Shelby cried then, because Mae was one of the strongest women she’d ever known. And because she hadn’t listened to her sooner. Could she now?
* * *
“HOW’RE YOU FEELING?” Shelby stood in the doorway to Gage’s bedroom looking like a dream—a young bride, his young bride.
“Like you left.” Shallow wheeze. “And I couldn’t follow.”
There was something wrong with Shelby’s face. She looked like she’d been crying.
“I’ll go with you.”
Gage was confused, possibly due to the pain meds. “To the doctor?” He had a follow-up visit planned for next week.
She shook her head. “You were going to ask me to go with you to Kentucky, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” It couldn’t be that simple, but in the ri
sing joy, he couldn’t figure out what it was.
“I’ll go with you.” And then she was gone.
What did it mean? Did she want to move out there as friends? His heart couldn’t take that scenario. Was this her way of letting him know that she wanted their relationship to go to the next level? Was this a pain-killer induced hallucination?
Gage dragged himself out of bed with care, taking slow steps to Shelby’s room. He knocked gently on the door. No one answered, but he could hear noises in the room. Had she rescued another stray?
Gage opened the door.
Shelby lay curled up on the bed in that wedding dress, clutching her pillow. He went over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.
Her face sobered, and then she climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around him. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. Are you upset because of Kentucky?”
“Mae died. One minute she was talking to me.” She gulped a deep breath. “And the next, she was gone.”
Now the reason for her going with him made sense. Shelby didn’t want to lose anyone else. First Nick, then Lucky, then Mae. “You can’t save everyone.” But it would be nice if she could, just once.
“Maybe if I go to Kentucky, I can save you.” She tilted her head up so that she could see his face. “I could train to be your birthing assistant. Nothing could happen if we’re together. You want to be together, don’t you?”
More than anything. But not like this. She was clinging to a false hope, rather than accepting the reality. The notion that she could protect what and who she cared for, 24/7, starting with Gage, a dog, some kittens and a motherly goose was not going to do anyone any good. She’d offered to train to be his birthing assistant. No way was he letting her inside a stall with flighty mares.
“Tomorrow,” he said slowly. “We’ll talk.”
* * *
THE NEWS SPREAD LIKE wildfire through Harmony Valley. They’d lost another of their ranks.
Agnes was at Rose’s house for a potluck dinner when the call came in. She looked at her friends and said, “I know exactly what we’re naming our boutique. Mae’s Pretty Things.”
* * *
THE COCKTAIL WEDDING DRESS was the first thing Shelby saw the next morning, draped over one of her wardrobe boxes. Whatever the day brought, whatever the future brought, she’d be forever changed because of Mae. But the pain of another loss chilled her.
One Perfect Year Page 22
