That was what he was feeling, Duke realized, the absence of pain. Tracy was all right; he could let go now.
SAWYER WAITED until he’d had a chance to see Duke and Tracy personally before he searched out a pay phone to call Abbey. He knew she’d be waiting anxiously to hear from him.
“They arrived twenty minutes ago,” he said, and heard the relief in his voice.
“How’s Tracy?”
“They’re examining her now, but she looks great for having spent the night in a snowbank. The hospital probably won’t even need to admit her.”
Abbey’s own relief was audible. “And Duke?”
“Duke wasn’t as fortunate,” Sawyer replied. He leaned against the wall, able to relax now that he’d seen his friend. “Compound fracture of his arm, possible internal injuries—they haven’t told him that part.”
“How bad?”
“We don’t know yet.” Perhaps he should’ve waited until he had all the details, but he’d wanted to call with the good news—Duke and Tracy were alive. Half of Hard Luck had stopped in at the office during the day, asking about them. Word of the crash had spread throughout the community.
“Will he be all right?” Abbey asked next.
“He’s going in for surgery so the arm can be set. As for the other, it’s too soon to tell. But my guess is Duke’ll be just fine in a few weeks.”
“Thank heaven.”
“Yes,” Sawyer murmured.
“The others are with you?” Abbey asked.
“Yeah. They’re waiting for me in the cafeteria.”
As soon as he’d heard that the snowstorm had cleared over Fairbanks, Sawyer had headed for the airfield, planning to assemble a rescue team and go after the missing couple.
Before he’d made it to the plane, however, Ralph had come running over with the news that they’d been rescued. He, John, Ted and three of the others asked if they could accompany Sawyer to Fairbanks. Nearly his entire crew had wanted to be at the hospital when Duke arrived.
Duke had friends. Good friends.
“I’ll pass the word along,” Abbey promised, sounding close to tears.
“Abbey, is everything all right?”
“Yes…yes, of course. It’s just that I’m so relieved. Those two had me worried.”
“You!” She’d been cool and controlled with him. Knowing how the crash had affected Sawyer, she must have figured she needed to be strong. He’d married himself quite a woman, Sawyer thought. A woman whose compassion and generosity humbled him even now.
TRACY WALKED into Duke’s hospital room and felt the sudden urge to cry. She’d waited what seemed like hours for him to be brought out of recovery.
His head was bandaged, his arm was in a cast, and an IV bottle steadily dripped fluid into a needle imbedded in the back of his hand. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He was a mess.
The doctors had told her it would be a while before he woke, but she didn’t care. They’d been through too much together for her to desert him now.
She sat in the chair next to his bed, content to stay exactly where she was until he told her himself that he was all right. She didn’t trust anyone else.
“Tracy?”
Sawyer O’Halloran walked into the room.
She gave him a weak smile. “That was some airplane ride,” she teased.
He didn’t smile. “I’ll bet.”
“You don’t need to worry—I’m not going to sue.”
He blinked in surprise. Obviously the thought had never occurred to him. But it probably had to others. After all, they’d figure, she was an attorney.
“How are you feeling?”
She smiled faintly. “Like I was in a plane crash.” The cut on her head was held together with a butterfly bandage, and she’d suffered a slight concussion, but her injuries weren’t life-threatening. No frostbite, even.
She must look a sight, but she didn’t care. Nor was she willing to leave Duke’s side until she knew for herself that he was going to pull through.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, but thanks.”
“I’ve booked a hotel room for you over at the Moose Suites,” he said, and hesitated when she gave him an odd look. She couldn’t help it. The Moose Suites?
“The place isn’t as weird as it sounds. Clean rooms, reasonable rates. Ralph brought your suitcase there.” Sawyer handed her a key.
“Thank you.” Until he’d told her about the room, she hadn’t given a moment’s thought to where she’d stay. Once Duke woke up, she’d take a taxi to the hotel, shower and sleep for a week.
“I took the liberty of contacting your law firm.”
Her gaze shot to him and she blinked. “Oh, my, I forgot about work.” Neither her law practice nor her life outside this hospital room seemed quite real at the moment.
“I spoke with Mr. Nelson.”
“He’s the senior partner.” Tracy bit her lip. She’d pushed the entire matter of her career and her life in Seattle out of her mind. She tried to picture her work calendar and remembered that she had a brief due on Wednesday, a settlement hearing scheduled for Thursday and on Friday—Oh, dear, there was something important on Friday, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
“Mr. Nelson was sorry to hear about the accident. He sends his personal regards and asked me to tell you to take as long as you need.”
“Thank you, Sawyer.” For a woman as disciplined and organized as she was, it astonished Tracy that she could actually forget about her work commitments.
“He asked if you’ll give him a call when you’re up to it.”
“I…will.” But not anytime soon, she thought.
“Until then,” Sawyer continued, “you’re not to worry. Mr. Nelson has everything covered.”
She nodded, not knowing what to say. Her whole world was centered in this small hospital room with the man who’d saved her life.
This was no exaggeration, no survivor’s gratitude run amuck, but simple fact. Tracy had heard the men talking as they’d pulled Duke from the plane. They’d found the ruptured fuel line and said the pattern the plane made as it went down showed that Duke had purposely steered it so that his side of the aircraft received the greater impact.
Duke’s skillful handling of the plane had saved their lives. Again and again Tracy heard the investigators’ comments to that effect.
A nurse had told her she was lucky to be alive, and Tracy had quickly corrected her. Luck had nothing to do with it. She was alive because of Duke Porter, and she wasn’t going to forget it.
“Do you need me for anything else?” Sawyer asked.
“No…” She couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of her incoherent impressions.
“Don’t hesitate to phone if you or Duke need anything,” he said.
“I won’t.”
He handed her his business card, and for the first time Tracy realized she didn’t have her purse. Sawyer appeared to understand without her having to say a word.
“Your purse is with your suitcase in the hotel room. It’s locked away safe and sound.”
As she thanked him, Sawyer moved to the other side of the hospital bed and studied Duke. “He’s going to come out of all this just fine. Don’t you worry.”
Tracy nodded, closing her eyes as she mentally reviewed the list of his injuries. His arm wouldn’t heal overnight. It’d be months before he regained full use of it. The cut on his head, which had required twenty-five stitches to close, had been even meaner and deeper than she’d realized. The physician who’d sewn it shut had complimented her on the resourceful way she’d wrapped it.
As for his internal injuries, it was too soon to tell the extent of the damage. At best, his vital organs had been shaken up a bit. At worst…Well, at worst was something she didn’t want to even consider.
“I’m leaving now,” Sawyer told her.
She nodded.
“But I’ll be back. Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?”
“Thanks, but no.” The hospital had given her some warm broth, and she’d had tea and toast earlier. Food didn’t appeal to her and probably wouldn’t for some time.
“I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours.”
“Okay.”
Sawyer left the room.
Tracy pulled her chair as close to Duke’s bed as possible. Because of the IV, she couldn’t hold his hand, so she pressed her cheek against the side of the mattress and gently draped her fingers over his forearm.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she sensed that he was awake. Lifting her head, she noticed the way he ran his tongue over his lips, as if he was thirsty.
She stood and carefully poured ice water into a glass, adding a straw from a supply on the bedside table.
He rolled his head from side to side. “Tracy?”
“I’m here.” She was inordinately pleased that hers was the first name he called.
His eyes fluttered open, and her heart filled with gratitude. She bent close to him. He raised his hand to her face and caressed her cheek.
Tracy battled the urge to weep and kissed the inside of his palm. “Sleep. Everything’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. I…am, too.”
“Beautiful.” The word rasped from his lips.
“Yeah, right.” Tracy had no illusions about her looks. Especially now—she’d caught her reflection in the mirror.
She offered him the water and he sucked it greedily through the straw. The effort appeared to drain him, and he leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes.
Content, Tracy sat down at his side and brushed the tears from her face.
BEN EXAMINED the dinner plate Bethany had carried up to his apartment. He grinned broadly when he lifted the lid and saw the hamburger bun. “Now this is more like it,” he said, smiling up at her. He didn’t know how many more of those healthy meals of hers he could stomach.
“Now listen, Ben, you’ve got to watch what you eat.”
“I am, I am,” he muttered. Not that he could avoid it, with Bethany standing guard over him every evening. He peeled back the bun and his heart sank with disappointment.
“What’s this?” he demanded. He noticed that his raised voice didn’t intimidate her.
“It’s a veggie burger.”
“A what?”
“You heard me.”
He groaned. Bethany had set out to starve him to death, and she was succeeding. His own flesh and blood, no less.
“I’ve had more oat bran in the last three weeks than some horses,” he said disgustedly.
“Ben—”
“You’ve shoveled more yogurt down me than any man should have to endure. I’ve put up with it, too, because…because you mean well. But now I’m putting my foot down. Look at this,” he said, pointing at his dinner plate. “You’ve ruined a perfectly good hamburger bun with this veggie…thing.”
“Ben, you can’t eat the way you used to. The least you can do is give this a taste. It’s made with tofu and—”
“Tofu?” he cried, outraged. “Just what kind of man do you think I am? I hope to high heaven you didn’t let anyone around here know you’re feeding me tofu!”
“No—”
“I had bacon and eggs for breakfast.” He tossed that out, knowing she wasn’t going to like it.
“Who’s the executor of your estate?”
“Don’t get smart with your elders,” he barked.
“What about lunch?” She folded her arms and glared at him. “Something tells me you didn’t have the soup I set out.”
“I made myself a pizza.”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “I sincerely hope you’ve got your will made out. A pizza? Ben, really.”
“I couldn’t help it,” he mumbled, feeling more than a little guilty. “Man does not live by bran alone.” Although he had to admit he’d never been more regular—but he wasn’t about to tell Bethany that. She might add even more to his diet.
“Just try the veggie burger.”
Like he had much of a choice. Either he ate what she brought him or he waited until she left and made his way downstairs to rustle up some dinner. “All right,” he said, but he knew he wasn’t going to like it.
Bethany laughed unexpectedly. “I swear you’re worse than a little kid. You’d think I’d brought you liver and onions.”
“I like liver and onions.” Now she was talking. Liver fried up in lots of bacon grease, not overcooked, either. He liked it tender, heaped with plenty of grilled onions. The thought of it set his mouth watering.
Bethany sat down across from him. “Remember, Mrs. McMurphy’s coming for her interview tomorrow afternoon.”
Ben wasn’t likely to forget. The more he thought about letting a stranger into his kitchen, the more he was against the whole idea. He hadn’t minded when Mariah worked for him, since she mostly stayed out of his way and let him cook. It’d been a luxury to have someone wait tables and collect dirty dishes.
But another cook! A woman, to boot. Not in his kitchen. Not while he lived and breathed. Well, it wouldn’t take much to find fault with this cook Mitch and Bethany wanted him to meet.
“I talked with Mrs. McMurphy this afternoon,” Bethany said. “She’s excited to meet you.”
“I’ll just bet.”
“She did a lot of the baking at the Sourdough Café and said she’d be willing to do that here, in addition to the other cooking.”
“What’d she bake?” The way Ben figured, if he appeared interested and asked plenty of questions, Bethany might not realize he’d already made up his mind.
“Her specialty is strudel, although she said her cinnamon rolls were popular with the clientele.”
Cinnamon rolls happened to be one of Ben’s weaknesses. He’d never gotten the hang of baking them himself. He liked his rolls made with plenty of real butter and drizzled with icing. His gaze dropped to the veggie burger, and he decided he’d gladly give a year’s profits for a single bite of warm, butter-oozing cinnamon roll.
“All I want you to do is give Mrs. McMurphy a chance.”
“Of course I will.” Ben reached for the glass of milk and took a swallow, afraid she might read the insincerity in his eyes. The milk tasted terrible, and he spit it back into the glass.
“What’d you do to my milk?”
Bethany pinched her lips together. “I didn’t do anything to it.”
Ben held his glass up to the light. “It’s…blue.”
“It’s nonfat.”
If anything was going to kill him, it was his daughter’s attempt to manage his diet. “You can’t spring nonfat milk on a man,” he told her. “You should’ve warned me.”
She crossed her arms. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little?”
“No!” he insisted. “A veggie burger, skim milk, and a bran muffin for dessert. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were trying to kill me.”
“Ben!”
“All right, all right.” He sighed. “Thank you for bringing over my…dinner.” He used to eat more than this for his midnight snacks.
“Now, what about your meeting with Mrs. McMurphy?”
She wasn’t going to let up on this, Ben could tell. “I’ll be cordial and treat her real nice.” That was what Bethany wanted to hear, and he wasn’t telling a lie. He’d be cordial and polite when he showed her the door.
“Just to be on the safe side, I’ve asked Mrs. McMurphy to have dinner with Mitch and me following the interview,” Bethany told him. “You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
Ben scowled. “It all depends on what you’re cooking.” Another night of veggie burgers, and he was likely to fade away to nothing.
DUKE AWOKE in the dim light and spent several minutes updating his memory. All he’d done for the better part of two days was sleep. Every time he opened his eyes, he discovered Tracy at his side. He wasn’t disappointed this time, either. She’d curled up in the chair next to his bed and was sound asleep.
Someone had covered her with a thin blanket.
At some point she must have showered and changed clothes, because she wore a sweater he couldn’t remember seeing before. Having her here produced a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. They’d been through a lot together. More than some people endured in a lifetime.
One thing was certain. Tracy was about the bravest woman he’d ever known. It couldn’t have been easy for her, with him out of his mind with pain half the time.
He was proud of her, proud of the way she’d figured out how to work the radio and contact Fairbanks. The way she’d looked after him. She was cool and capable, the kind of woman who always found a solution, regardless of the problem. A woman who wouldn’t give up when times got tough.
She’d kissed him.
The memory had a dreamlike quality to it. When they’d heard the rescue chopper’s approach, she’d been so excited that she’d kissed him. It didn’t mean anything, Duke told himself. The kiss had been an expression of joy, of relief. Nothing more.
He’d tried over and over to remind himself of that, but it hadn’t worked. As brief as the kiss had been, as meaningless as he attempted to convince himself it was, he’d enjoyed it.
If he’d been able to, he would’ve wrapped her in his arms and kissed her properly. His breath quickened just thinking about it. He’d take it slow and easy, making it a kiss neither of them would soon forget. His heart began to pound wildly.
Duke forced himself to look away. This was Tracy Santiago he was fantasizing about. The woman he’d fought with time and time again. On closer examination, he understood that he’d always been attracted to her. Well, opposites were said to attract, he thought, and they’d proved it. He actually enjoyed their verbal battles, even looked forward to them. A few had gotten out of hand, but he was more to blame for that than she was.
What he didn’t like about Tracy, Duke realized, was that he felt out of control whenever he was with her. It occurred to him that he’d behaved around Tracy the way Christian had around Mariah. All the while he’d been complaining about his secretary, he’d been falling in love with her.
Midnight Sons Volume 3 Page 21
