by Lisa Jackson
“Hello! Hello! This is an emergency!” Randi cried, as if she’d gotten through to police dispatch. “Someone’s trying to kill us. We’re on the interstate in northern Montana.” She yelled their approximate location and the highway number, then swore as the connection failed.
Thud!
Again they were battered from behind.
The front wheel hit a patch of ice and the truck began to spin, circling in what seemed like slow motion. Kurt struggled with the steering wheel, saw the guardrail and the black void beyond. Gritting his teeth, trying to keep the truck on the road, he felt the fender slam into the railing and heard the horrid groan of metal ripping. Over it all the baby cried and Randi screamed. “Come on, come on,” Kurt said between clenched teeth, willing the pickup to stay on the road, his shoulders aching. He couldn’t lose the woman he loved, nor her child. Not now. Not this way. Not again. “Oh my God, look out!” Randi cried, but it was too late.
The SUV hit the truck midspin, plowing into the passenger side with a sickening crash and the rending of steel. Kurt’s fingers clenched over the wheel, but the truck didn’t respond. The SUV’s bumper locked to the truck and together the two vehicles spun down the road, faster and faster. Trees and darkness flashed by in a blur.
Randi screamed.
The baby wailed.
Kurt swore. “Hold on!” The two melded vehicles slammed into the side of the mountain and ricocheted across the road with enough force to send the entangled trucks through the guardrail and into the black void beyond.
Somewhere there was a bell ringing…steady…never getting any louder…just a simple bleating. It was so irritating. Answer the phone, for God’s sake…answer it! Randi’s head ached, her body felt as if she’d been beaten from head to toe, there was an awful taste in her mouth and… She opened an eye and blinked. Everything was so white and blinding.
“Can you hear me? Randi?” Someone shined a light into her eyes and she recoiled. The voice was a woman’s. A voice she should recognize. Randi closed her eyes. Wanted to sleep again. She was in a bed with rails…a hospital bed…how did she get here? Vaguely she remembered the smell of burning rubber and fresh pine…there had been red and blue lights and her family…all standing around…and Kurt leaning over her, whispering he loved her, his face battered and bruised and bleeding… Or had it been a dream? Kurt…where the hell was Kurt? And the baby? Joshua. Oh God! Her eyes flew open and she tried to speak.
“Jo…Joshua?”
“The baby’s okay.”
Everything was blurry for a minute before she focused and saw Nicole standing in the room. Another doctor was examining her, but her eyes locked with those of her sister-in-law. Memories of the horrible night and the car wreck assailed her.
“Joshua is at home. With Juanita. As soon as you’re released you can be with him.”
She let out her breath, relieved that her child had survived.
“You’re lucky,” the doctor said, and Nicole was nodding behind him. Lucky? Lucky? There didn’t seem anything the least bit lucky about what happened.
“Kurt?” she managed to get out though her throat was raw, her words only a whisper.
“He’s all right.”
Thank God. Slowly turning her head, Randi looked around. The hospital room was stark. An IV dripped fluid into her wrist, a monitor showed her heartbeat and kept up the beeping she’d heard as she’d awoken. Flowers stood in vases on a windowsill.
“I…I want to see…my baby…and…and Striker.”
“You’ve been in the hospital two days, Randi,” Nicole said. “With a concussion and a broken wrist. J.R., er, Joshua, had a bad cold but didn’t suffer anything from the accident. Luckily there was an ambulance only fifteen minutes away from the site of the accident. Police dispatch had gotten your message, so they were able to get to you fairly quickly.”
“Where’s Kurt?”
Nicole cleared his throat. “Gone.”
Randi’s heart sank. He’d already left. The ache within her grew.
“He had some eye damage and a dislocated shoulder.”
“And he just left.”
Little lines gathered between Nicole’s eyebrows. “Yes. I know that he went to Seattle to see a specialist. An optic neurologist.”
Randi forced the words over her tongue. “How bad is his vision?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he blind?”
“I really don’t know, Randi.”
She felt as if her sister-in-law was holding back. “Kurt’s not coming back, is he?”
Nicole took her hand and twined strong fingers between Randi’s. “I’m not certain, but since you’re going to ask, if I were a betting woman, I’d have to say ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He and Thorne had words. Now, please, take your doctor’s advice and rest. You have a baby waiting for you at the Flying M and three half brothers who are anxious for you to come home.” Nicole squeezed Randi’s fingers and Randi closed her eyes. So they’d survived.
“What about Patsy?” she asked.
“In custody. As luck would have it, she got away unscathed.”
The doctor attending her cleared his throat. “You really do need to rest,” he said.
“Like hell.” She scrabbled for the button to raise her head. “I want to get out of here and see my baby and—” Excruciating pain splintered through her brain. She sank back on her pillow. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted. She had to get well. For Joshua.
And what about Kurt? Her heart ached at the thought that she might never see him again. Damn it, she couldn’t just let him walk away.
Or could she?
Three days later she was released from the hospital and reunited with her family. Joshua was healthy again, and it felt good to hold him in her arms, to smell his baby-clean scent. Juanita was in her element, fussing and clucking over Randi and the baby, generally bossing her brothers around and running the house.
Larry Todd seemed to have forgiven Randi for letting him go, though he insisted on a signed contract for his work, and even Bill Withers, after hearing of the accident, had agreed to allow Randi to write her column from Montana. “Just don’t let it get out,” he said over the phone. “People around here might get the idea that I’m a softie.”
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it if I were you,” Randi said before hanging up and deciding to tackle her oldest brother. She checked on the baby and found him sleeping in his crib, then, with her arm in a sling, made her way downstairs. The smells of chocolate and maple wafted from the kitchen where Juanita was baking.
Though Slade and Matt were nowhere to be found, she located Thorne at his desk in the den. He sat at his computer, a neglected cup of coffee at his side. No doubt he was working on some corporate buyout, a lawsuit, the ever-changing plans for his house, or concocting some new way to make his next million. Randi didn’t care what he was doing. He could damn well be interrupted.
“I heard you gave Striker a bad time.” She was on pain medication but was steady enough on her feet to loom above the desk in her bathrobe and slippers.
Thorne looked up at her and smiled. “You heard right.”
“Blamed him for what happened to me and Joshua.”
“I might have come down on him a little hard,” her brother admitted with uncharacteristic equanimity.
“You had no right, you know. He did his best.”
“And it wasn’t good enough. You were nearly killed. So was Joshua.”
“We survived. Because of Kurt.”
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I figured that out.”
“You did?”
“Yep.” He reached into his drawer and held out two pieces of a torn check. “Striker wouldn’t accept any payment. He felt bad about what happened.”
“And you made it worse.”
“Nah.” He leaned back in the desk chair until it squeaked and tented his hands as he looked up at her. “Well, okay, I did, but I changed my mind.”
&n
bsp; “What good does that do?”
“A lot,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re up to something.”
“Making amends.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“I don’t think so.” He glanced to the window and Randi heard it then, the rumble of an engine. “Looks like our brothers are back.”
“They’ve been away?”
“Mmm. Come on.” He climbed out of his desk chair and walked with her to the front door. She looked out the window and saw Matt and Slade climb out of a Jeep. But there was another man with them and in a pulse beat she recognized Kurt. Her heart nearly jumped from her chest and she threw open the door, nearly tripping on Harold as she raced across the porch.
“Wait!” Thorne cried, but she was already running along the path beaten in the snow, her slippers little protection, her robe billowing in the cold winter air.
“Kurt!” she yelled, and only then noticed the eye-patch. He turned and a smile split his square jaw. Without thinking, she flung herself into his arms. “God, I missed you,” she whispered and felt tears stream from her eyes. His face was bruised, his good eye slightly swollen. “Why did you leave?”
“I thought it was best.” His voice was husky. Raw. The arm around her strong and steady.
“Then you thought wrong.” She kissed him hard and felt his mouth mold to hers, his body flex against her.
When he finally lifted his head, he was smiling. “That’s what your brothers said.” He glanced up at Thorne who had followed Randi outside. He stiffened slightly.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Thorne said. “I made a mistake.”
“What? You’re actually apologizing?” Randi, still in Kurt’s arms, looked over her shoulder. “This,” she said to Kurt, “is a red-letter day. Thorne McCafferty never, and I mean, never, admits he’s wrong.”
“Amen,” Matt said.
“Right on,” Slade agreed.
Thorne’s jaw clenched. “Will you stay?” he asked Striker.
“I’ll see. Give me a second, will you.” He looked at all the brothers, who suddenly found reasons to retreat to the house. “It’s freezing out here and you’re hurt…” He touched her wrist. “So I’ll keep this simple. Randi McCafferty, will you marry me?”
“Wh-what?”
“I mean it. Ever since I met you…and that kid of yours, life hasn’t been the same.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said breathlessly.
“Do. Believe, Randi.”
Her heart squeezed. Fresh tears streamed from her eyes.
“Marry me.”
“Yes. Yes! Yes!” She threw her good arm around his neck and silently swore she’d never let go.
Epilogue
“I do,” Randi said as she stood beneath an arbor of roses. Kurt was with her, the preacher was saying the final words and Kelly was holding Joshua as Randi’s brothers stood next to Kurt and her sisters-in-law surrounded her. The backyard of the ranch was filled with guests and the summer sun cast golden rays across the acres of land.
It had been over a year since John Randall had passed on. The new stable was finished, if not painted, and Thorne and his family had moved into their house. Both Nicole and Kelly were nearly at term in the pregnancies.
“I give to you Mr. and Mrs. Kurt Striker…” The preacher’s final words echoed across the acres and somewhere from Big Meadow a horse let out a loud nicker.
Randi gazed up at her bridegroom and her heart swelled. He had healed from the accident, only a small scar near one eye reminding her that his peripheral vision had been compromised.
Both Patsy and Sam Donahue had been tried and convicted and were serving time. Sam had agreed to give up all parental rights and Kurt was working with an attorney to legally adopt Joshua.
They lived here at the ranch house and Randi was able to keep working, though Kurt thought she should give up her column entitled “Solo” and start writing for young marrieds.
“Toast!” Matt cried as she and Kurt walked toward the table where a sweating ice sculpture of two running horses was melting and pink champagne bubbled from a fountain.
“To the newlyweds,” Thorne said.
Randi smiled and fingered the locket at her throat. Once it had held a picture of her father and son. Now John Randall had been replaced by a small snapshot of her husband.
“To my wife,” Kurt said, and touched the rim of his glass to hers.
“And my husband.”
She swallowed a glass of champagne and greeted their guests. Never had she felt such joy. Never had she felt so complete. She held her son and danced on a makeshift floor as the band began to play and shadows began to crawl across the vast acres of the Flying M.
“I love you,” Kurt whispered to her and she laughed.
“You’d better! Forever!”
“That’s an awful long time.”
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” she teased.
“The best.” He kissed her and held her for a long minute, then they walked through the guests and she saw her brothers with their wives… Finally all of the McCafferty children were married. As John Randall McCafferty had wanted. More grandchildren were on the way.
She could almost hear her father saying to her, “Good goin’, Randi girl. About time you tied the knot.”
As she danced with her new husband, she could feel her father’s presence and she didn’t doubt for a second that had he been here, the old man would’ve been proud.
Another generation of McCaffertys was on its way.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8033-9
BEST-KEPT LIES
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Lisa Jackson
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*Mavericks
†Love Letters
‡Forever Family
§The McCaffertys
