Some Kind of Wonderful

by Debbie Macomber

  Since the night Sam had told him about the things he’d said to Judy, McFarland had sought a means of apologizing while salvaging his pride. He could give her a token gift, perhaps. Something that would convey his message without costing him emotionally. Watching her now, a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he admitted that he’d gladly fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. He was a selfish bastard, and Beauty—his Beauty—deserved so much better.

  —

  Judy wiped the tears from her cheeks, angry with herself for being so melancholy. From the first, she’d known it would be difficult to love John. She’d thought she had accepted that. In the long days since their ride together, she’d come to understand the cost that love demanded. But she had her pride, too—in some ways it was as great as John’s—and she would die before she’d let him know that he held her heart in the palm of his hand.

  A flash of ebony caught her attention, and she turned and spotted John on the ridge above her. He pulled on the reins and she realized with a start that he was planning to meet her. It was one thing to know he’d found her, and another to let him see her tears.

  Frantic to escape, she mounted Princess and slapped the reins hard. The mare shot across the beach, kicking up a flurry of sand. Judy decided her best chance of escape was the jungle, and she went in that direction. Risking a look behind her, she was astonished to see that John had already arrived at the beach.

  “Hurry, Princess,” she cried as the horse charged ahead.

  Judy didn’t see what darted across the beach, but Princess reared, her front legs kicking in terror. Unable to stop herself, Judy slipped sideways in the saddle. She made a desperate effort to regain her balance, but it was too difficult to stay on the bucking horse. A sense of unreality filled her. She hadn’t been thrown by a horse since she was a child. She refused to believe it, but the ground that rushed up to meet her was certainly real. With a cry of panic, she put out her arms to break the fall. Then the impact of her body against the beach brutally drove the air from her lungs.

  McFarland saw Princess buck and watched helplessly as Judy teetered, frantically trying to regain her seat. He saw her fall and knew she’d landed hard. Swear words scorched the morning mist, and his heart thundered with alarm. The thoughts that flashed through his mind were completely illogical. He’d sell his business interests around the world if she was unhurt. If that didn’t satisfy the powers that be, he offered his life, his soul—anything—as long as Judy wasn’t hurt.

  He pulled Midnight to an abrupt halt, vaulted from the stallion’s back, and ran across the sand, more frightened than he could remember ever being.

  Falling to his knees at Judy’s side, he gently rolled her over. The steady, even pulsing at the side of her neck made him go weak with relief. He yanked off his jacket and placed it under her head. Then, not knowing what else to do, he held her limp hand in his own, rubbing the inside of her wrist.

  Judy’s eyes fluttered open to see John leaning over her, looking sickly pale. “Princess?” she whispered, and tried to sit up.

  It took McFarland a moment to realize she was worried about the mare. He was astonished; Judy could have been maimed or, worse, killed, and she seemed to care nothing for her own well-being.

  “Is she hurt?”

  McFarland shook his head and responded in a husky voice. “She’s fine. She’s already on her way back to the stable. What about you? How do you feel?”

  Her smile was little more than a slight trembling of her lips. It was too soon to tell. She felt like she might throw up and the world spun crazily. “I’m all right,” she said weakly.

  “You’re sure?” His eyes burned into hers.

  “The only thing bruised is my pride.” With some difficulty she stood, then stumbled and swayed toward him. Her ribs hurt badly, but she successfully hid the pain.

  McFarland caught her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her against him, grateful for the excuse to bring her into his embrace. He brushed her disheveled hair away from her face, and Judy noted that he was shaking as much as she was.

  “I’m fine, John. Something must have spooked Princess. I think it was a rabbit.” She tilted her head back and saw the torment in his expression as he relived the moment of her fall.

  Their eyes met. Neither moved; neither breathed. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. Judy could find no way to describe the turbulent sensations that jolted her. It was as though she realized she could’ve been killed and forever denied the feel of John’s arms around her. Judy wanted to cherish this moment forever and forget the pain.

  They remained locked in each other’s arms long after the kiss had ended. Timeless seconds passed, each more precious than the one before.

  “You have to see a doctor,” he said at last.

  “John, I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  She smiled, unable to tell him his kisses contributed to her trembling as much as the pain.

  His low whistle brought Midnight to their side. “You’ll ride with me.”

  “But—”

  One look cut off any argument. McFarland climbed into Midnight’s saddle first.

  Judy stared at the stallion and felt her knees go weak. The last thing she wanted to do right now was get back on a horse. Although she strove to reassure John that she was unhurt, she felt as though someone had taken a baseball bat to her ribs. It hurt to breathe and she ached everywhere. Nothing seemed broken, but something wasn’t right, either. “What if he won’t let me?” she asked shakily.

  John dismissed the idea with a curious smile. “You said yourself that Midnight is your friend.”

  She nodded, staring at the hand he offered her. She took it, and his strong fingers closed over hers as he prepared to lift her onto the stallion’s back. However, the simple act of raising her arm caused her to gasp with pain.

  Hurriedly, she drew it back to her side, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead against John’s leg. The next thing she knew, she was on her knees in the sand, clutching her side.

  “You idiot!” he shouted, dismounting. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to his. “Why do you always yell at me?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Beauty, I’m sorry.”

  She held her arm protectively across her ribs. “Only my father calls me that.”

  “It’s true, you know,” he said, kneeling beside her, holding her with such tenderness that she couldn’t identify the greater pain—loving John or the ache in her ribs.

  “I’m not beautiful.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re the most beautiful woman I know. Now don’t argue with me anymore.”

  She gave him a weak smile.

  The trip back to the house was torture and seemed to take hours. She pleaded with him to leave her there and send someone back for her. The injury wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t stand to be alone for half an hour. John adamantly refused and, in the end, she did ride Midnight, cradled in John’s arms.

  She rode facing him, her head against his chest, her arms around his middle. Their progress was slow, and by the time they arrived she was hazy with pain and incredibly sleepy.

  Sam and several others rushed out to greet them.

  “Send for a doctor,” John shouted urgently. That meant flying one in, which would take time, but there was no alternative.

  With some effort, Judy lifted her head. “I thought you weren’t going to yell anymore.”

  “I said that?” He pretended to be surprised.

  She frowned and drew in a slow, painful breath. “Maybe you didn’t.”

  He buried his fingers in her hair. “If it’ll make the hurt go away,” he whispered, “I promise never to raise my voice again.”

  The ache in her side immediately lessened.

  He issued other orders, but in a subdued voice that moved her deeply, not because she found his shouting objectionable but because he cared enough to
try to please her. After the last four days of the bitter war that had raged between them, this sweet attention was bliss.

  John helped her off Midnight and carried her into the house. She protested when he started up the stairs to her room, but it didn’t stop him.

  “I’m too heavy,” she cried.

  “Now look who’s yelling.”

  “John, please, you’re the one who’ll need a doctor if you insist on hauling me up these stairs.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.” But it was useless to protest. Besides, he was already halfway up the stairs.

  When he reached the hallway outside her suite, he nudged her door open, crossed the room, and placed her carefully on the bed. Judy immediately recognized that lying down wasn’t the thing to do and, kicking out her feet, she struggled to a sitting position.

  “What’s wrong?” McFarland saw the flash of pain in her eyes and felt it as strongly as if the agony were his own.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Nothing. Just go away, please. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  To her surprise he did leave her, but two maids were in her room within seconds. They were followed by the security guard who’d met her the day of her arrival.

  Judy grinned. “So we meet again.”

  “I have some medical training,” he explained. “Mr. McFarland asked that I check you over before the doctor gets here.”

  Judy nodded and slumped onto the end of her bed.

  —

  McFarland was pacing in the hallway outside her room when Wilson returned. “Well?” he asked anxiously.

  “My guess is that she’s cracked a couple of ribs.”

  “She’s in considerable pain, isn’t she?” Although Judy had tried to hide it from him, McFarland could tell that she wanted to scream, and once again he felt her agony.

  “She’s pretending it doesn’t hurt, but I know better,” Wilson said wryly.

  “Give her something for the pain,” McFarland demanded gruffly.

  The other man looked uncertain. “I don’t know if I should, Mr. McFarland. The doctor might want to—”

  “It could be hours before he shows up. Give her something and do it now. That’s an order.”

  Wilson nodded, swallowing any argument. “Right away.”

  He returned a few minutes later with two capsules, instructing Judy to take both. Within minutes she drifted into a troubled sleep. She lay tightly curled up, taking shallow breaths, trying to minimize the pain.

  When she woke, she discovered John sitting at her bedside, staring at his hands, his face bleak.

  “John?”

  He straightened and turned toward her. “Yes, Beauty?”

  “The island needs…something. A medical facility. What if one of the children gets hurt? Then…what? There’s nowhere…” She felt so sluggish, so miserable. The pills hadn’t taken away the pain; only her mind was numb.

  “The doctor will be here soon,” he assured her.

  She nodded and moistened her lips with her tongue. “I’m thirsty.”

  “Here.” He lifted her head and held a glass of cool water to her lips. She managed to take several sips. When she’d finished, he kissed her forehead.

  “John?” Her voice was a slurred whisper. She struggled to keep her eyes open but gave up the effort.

  The catch in her voice stabbed at his heart. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a nuisance.”

  The words burned him like a red-hot iron. “You were never a nuisance.”

  “But you said—”

  He gripped her hand in his own and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I was wrong.” McFarland couldn’t remember ever admitting that to anyone.

  He stayed at her bedside until the medical team arrived. Then he lingered outside her room until the physician had completed his examination, which seemed to take hours. McFarland paced the area in front of her room for so long that he grew dizzy.

  His thoughts mingled with one another until they dashed through his mind in a muddled sequence. Judy running away from him, Judy falling, Judy in pain. It was all his fault.

  When the physician finally did appear, McFarland found himself studying the other man, fearing what he might learn. “Will she be all right?” His eyes pleaded with the white-haired man for assurance.

  “I believe so. We brought along a portable X-ray machine. She’s cracked two ribs and has a slight concussion.”

  “Any internal damage?” That was McFarland’s greatest fear.

  “Not that we can detect.”

  He jerked his fingers through his hair. “Should she be hospitalized?”

  The physician shook his head. “I don’t see how that would do any good. What she needs now more than anything is rest. For the time being, she isn’t going to feel like getting out of bed. However, that’s for the best. Let her sleep.”

  “How long?”

  “A couple of days. After that, she should gradually increase her activity.”

  “What about the pain? I don’t want her to suffer.” He couldn’t bear to see her face twisted in agony.

  “I’ve left some medication with my nurse, Ms. Reinholt. Ms. Lovin is sleeping comfortably now.”

  McFarland let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. “Good. Thank you, Doctor.” He offered the physician his hand and had Wilson escort the medical team to the waiting helicopter. Except for the nurse, who’d be staying as long as necessary.

  McFarland checked on Judy one last time before going to his office. He was stalled in the foyer by several of the staff members. They raised questioning eyes to him, their concern evident.

  “How is Judy—Ms. Lovin—sir?” the chef asked as he bravely stepped forward.

  Only hours earlier, McFarland would’ve bitten off the man’s head for daring to approach him on a subject that was none of his business. Now he patiently explained the extent of Judy’s injuries and answered a legion of questions.

  From there McFarland went to his offices. Avery stood when he entered the room.

  Before his business manager could ask, he rattled off his now-rehearsed report. “Cracked ribs, bruises, and a mild concussion. She’ll be confined to her bed for a few days and good as new in a couple of months. Or so the doctor says.”

  Avery nodded. “How about you?”

  “Me?”

  “It doesn’t appear to me that you’re going to recover in a couple of months,” he said boldly.

  McFarland glared at his business manager before walking into his office and soundly closing the door. Avery was right; McFarland doubted he’d ever be the same. He’d been shaken to the very core of his existence. He buried his face in his hands and sat, unmoving, for what felt like hours.

  —

  Somehow he made it through the day, dictating memos, making decisions, charting the course of numerous companies, but for all the emotion he put into it, he could’ve been playing Monopoly. Nothing seemed real; nothing seemed right.

  The mere thought of food nauseated him. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. And when night came, he discovered that he couldn’t sleep, either. He’d tried to stay away, to let her rest, and realized it was impossible.

  The nurse in the stiff white uniform answered his knock at Judy’s door.

  “She’s sleeping.”

  McFarland nodded, feeling foolish. “Go ahead and take a break. I’ll stay with her.”

  The woman looked grateful and left soon afterward.

  McFarland was thankful to spend the time alone with Judy. Her face was relaxed and revealed no signs of pain, which eased the guilt that had burdened him from the moment he’d watched her fall helplessly to the ground.

  He couldn’t tolerate the thought of her in pain. He wasn’t squeamish, never had been, but Judy’s accident had terrified him. He’d gone weak. With others, McFarland often battled feelings of rage; with Judy he could only blame himself. He felt sick with guilt.

  “John.�
�� His name was a faint whisper.

  “I’m here.” Anxiously, he brought the chair closer to her bedside.

  The clock on the nightstand said it was near midnight. Or was it noon? Judy didn’t know anymore. Everything was so unclear. “Have you been here all this time?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “The nurse needed a break.”

  “The nurse?”

  “Yes. The doctor felt you needed round-the-clock attention for a little while.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She tried to laugh and sucked in a breath, her ribs protesting.

  “Shh, you’re supposed to keep quiet.”

  She ignored that and pushed herself up on one elbow. “Help me sit up, would you?”

  “No.”

  “John, please, I need to talk to you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I’m on my deathbed, remember? Humor me.”

  He grudgingly helped her into a sitting position. Next he fluffed up her pillow and tucked the sheets securely around her waist.

  A smile lit up her eyes, and for the life of him, McFarland couldn’t tear his gaze away. “There,” he said proudly, brushing his palms against each other as though he’d accomplished some impressive feat.

  “What’s that?” Judy pointed at a small crate on the floor next to the dresser.

  “A gift.”

  “From whom?”

  “Me.”

  Although it required some effort, she managed a smile. “Well, for heaven’s sake, bring it to me.”

  He took it from the crate after breaking off the strips of wood. It was cradled in a thick blanket. “I meant to have it wrapped, but…”

  “Oh John, it doesn’t matter. As it is, I don’t really know why you’d want to buy me anything.”

  The room went quiet as McFarland reclaimed his chair. “Go ahead and open it.”

  The object was heavy and awkward in her lap. With infinite care, Judy unrolled the blanket, her excitement growing. As the bronze figure was gradually revealed, she raised her eyes to his. “John? Oh John, could this be what I think it is?”