by Mary Manners
“Maci Ferguson.”
“Help me here, Maci.” Hunter skimmed his fingers along Ali’s wrist and felt for a pulse…found one steady but edging toward a sprint. “Tell me everything you remember. From the very start.”
“Like I said, we were talking.” Maci leaned in, hiking up her long black skirt to free her legs. Hunter tore his gaze away from calves he was sure had spent plenty of time in a gym and focused on the patient. “The heat was getting to her, and she said she was feeling a little dizzy.”
Hunter gulped as he smoothed a hand across Ali’s forehead, down one cheek. Her skin was clammy but not overly hot. “What else?”
“Humming…she thought something was wrong with the sound system because she heard a high-pitched humming.” Maci shook her hair away from her face and cupped one ear with long, delicate fingers. “But there’s nothing like that. I don’t hear it, though. Do you?”
“No.” Hunter’s danger radar spiked as he performed triage, and his heart pounded with each new piece of information. He delved further. “You two are friends?”
“Best friends.”
“Has Ali had any problems with her blood pressure throughout the pregnancy?”
“None that I’m aware of. She saw the obstetrician a week ago, and has another appointment tomorrow.”
A week…Hunter knew from his training what kind of dangers could pop up in late pregnancy during the course of a week. This had all the signs of a classic case of preeclampsia. If that was indeed the case, the baby—and Ali—were in serious danger.
“Here comes the stretcher. We’ll get her to the hospital now.” Hunter turned from Ali as his co-worker, Jared, approached, though he continued his conversation with Maci. “Have you called her husband—Ryder?”
“How do you know they’re married?”
“It doesn’t take a genius.” Carefully, Hunter helped Jared stabilize Ali. “I used to live here.”
“You know Ali?”
“And Ryder, too.” Hunter and Jared carefully loaded Ali onto the stretcher. Hunter was thankful only a few stragglers remained from the enthusiastic concert crowd. Nothing stuck in his craw more than a mob of gawkers. He turned to Maci. “We all used to be friends.”
“Used to?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, Ryder’s—” Maci’s cell phone chimed and she checked caller ID. “This is him.” She answered in a flash. Hunter continued to work at the rear of the ambulance while she quickly relayed information. With Ali safely loaded and stabilized, they were ready to pull out. The quicker Ali got to the hospital, the better the chances for her and the baby.
“Wait. I’m coming with.” Maci grabbed her violin case and rushed to the rear of the ambulance as Ryder began to climb in. “I won’t leave her alone.”
“We don’t allow passengers in rescue vehicles.” Hunter eyed her performance attire. “Only patients.”
“You do today.” Maci marched past him, her chin tilted toward the sky and her blue eyes shimmering with tears. Hunter’s resolve turned to mashed potatoes when her lips began to tremble. “Like I said, she’s not going alone.”
“She won’t be alone.” He crossed his arms, struggling to maintain authority. “I’ll see she’s taken care of.”
“And so will I. Ryder’s coming from Chattanooga, and even speeding he’s going to be at least another hour. If Ali’s in labor she’ll need me there.” Maci’s teeth tugged at her trembling bottom lip. She clutched her violin case to her chest as the tears spilled over. “You look like a reasonable guy, Hunter. Give me a break and bend the rules a bit…just this time.”
The tears did him in. “Well, I guess it’s OK…just this once, though.” Ryder reminded himself it was Ali in the ambulance—not just a stranger from the street. He’d hurt her once, and he wouldn’t let that happen again. Maci was right—Ali would need a friend at her side if the doctors decided to take the baby—or worse. He sighed and nodded slightly toward the ambulance. “You ride shotgun. I’ll take up the rear.”
2
“How are you holding up?” Hunter slipped next to Maci outside the NICU nursery where little Rory lay in an isolette, recovering from his journey into the world. Through the viewing glass, Hunter saw the baby’s tiny body, twined with tubes, clench in a fit of rage over…
What…? Was he cold…hungry…hurting? How did one know what a baby needed when all he could do was squall? It was a frightening thought, and the high-pitched wail tore at Hunter’s heart.
“Poor little guy.” Maci placed a finger on the glass and leaned in, her perfume drifting to tickle Hunter’s nose.
A hint of citrus and lavender…or was that lilac? Hunter was no expert on flowery scents but he liked what wafted, none the less. A slow burn ignited in the base of his gut and whispered through his chest, warming him. How did she look so good—so neatly put-together—when he felt like something a Rottweiler had dragged in? He rubbed a hand across his chin, feeling a scratchy carpet of stubble as Maci continued.
“Rory’s worked so hard today that he’s simply tuckered out. I think he’s lonely, as well. Imagine, Hunter, being all warm and cozy, nestled in the warmth of your mom’s belly...”
Hunter imagined feeling warm and cozy, but it had nothing to do with his mom and everything to do with the woman beside him. Maci was the perfect blend of strength and fragility, captivating beyond words with her wave of cinnamon hair and long, delicate fingers that emphasized every word as she spoke. Her proximity tied his tongue and made it difficult to focus on what she said instead of the supple curve of her lips as she spoke. Groaning inwardly with the struggle, Hunter turned from her and paced toward the wall to gather his composure. What was going on? This longing that swept through him like the wind gust of an F-5 tornado was completely foreign and highly disturbing.
Maci’s heels clicked along the tile as she crossed over to him. Her voice drifted through the storm. “Then, imagine you’re ripped from the warmth and yanked into blaring lights, cacophonous noise, and the chill of a stark birthing suite. Add to that being whisked from your mom and then mercilessly poked with tubes and needles. It’s…almost inhumane. And poor Rory’s lungs…he needed a little more time. They’re not yet fully developed.”
“They sound pretty strong to me.” The high-pitched squalling continued, and Hunter told himself those wails were the reason for the skip in his pulse—that and sheer exhaustion. He and Maci had been together at the hospital going on a dozen hours, and he’d ingested at least half-a-dozen cups of coffee. He eased away from her, away from the subtle halo of her perfume, and rubbed the sleep-deprived glaze from his eyes. “He’s got the other babies going now. Sounds like a chorus of angry chipmunks.”
“It does.” Maci laughed and her eyes sparkled like smoky-blue sapphires beneath the muted lobby lights. “But, considering the recent events, it’s such a sweet sound—a miracle, really.”
Hunter digested the statement. Miracles happened every day. He’d witnessed them on occasion during the countless emergency rescues he’d manned over the past several years. But this one struck his heart like a walk-off grand slam. The beginning of a new life…the newborn son of his best friends.
Former best friends. Could they be again—was that miracle possible? They’d welcomed him back. The miracle of birth could heal any hurt, Hunter supposed, but could they all be best friends again? He still could hardly fathom that the past—and all the hurt that came with it—seemed to have been washed away by this single event.
“Imagine, Hunter, the other side of the coin—what might have happened if you hadn’t come strolling along behind the band shell when you did.” Maci’s voice hitched, and he sensed her emotions were as tangled as his. “If you failed to respond to my cries for help and weren’t there to take the situation in hand—”
“I’d never fail to respond to someone who needed my help.” He strode past her, slapping the thigh of his slacks with one hand while he gripped a Styrofoam cup in the other. He’d never
fail to respond, but that was no guarantee he’d be successful in aiding. Events of the past were solid proof of that.
The past is gone, he reminded himself as he lobbed the empty cup into a trashcan. You can’t change what happened. There’s only today…and the future.
“Besides”—he fought back the sour taste that rose like bile in his throat—“as an EMT and Director of Willow Lake’s Crisis Management Team, it’s my job—and my sworn duty—to help people.”
“Nonetheless, tonight you’re my hero.” Maci tossed back a wave of coppery curls that slipped across her face, skimming her porcelain skin. A dusting of freckles danced across the bridge of her nose. “I assume, from the way they were both gushing, that Ryder and Ali feel the same.”
He fought the urge to brush his knuckles across Maci’s cheek as he asked, “And, tomorrow?”
“Technically,” she glanced at her watch. “It is tomorrow, as well.” She winked, kicking his pulse into overdrive. “But, we’ll see…”
Hunter’s gaze drifted to the digital clock hanging on the opposite wall. Four AM had come and gone. Even with the emergency C-section the doctor had performed to save both Rory and Ali, whose blood pressure had spiked off the charts, he had no idea giving birth could take so long.
As if reading his mind, Maci closed in on him once again. She reached over his shoulder and tapped the nursery viewing glass. “He was worth everything—that little guy in there.”
“You think Ali feels the same—and Ryder?” The touch of her hand on his arm sent an explosion of heat up his spine. He raked a hand through his hair and wished for another cup of coffee. But the cafeteria was closed and a third dose of muddy brew from the vending machine was sure to burn a hole right through his gut. “Ryder almost lost her—almost lost both of them.”
“But he didn’t.” Maci waggled a finger. “So let it go, Hunter.”
“I suppose.”
Ryder had been shocked to see Hunter—Ali, as well, when she was finally conscious enough to notice him there in the room. But it wasn’t a bad kind of shocked, as Hunter imagined it would be. Instead, though they surely harbored a slew of questions, Ryder and Ali both seemed genuinely glad he was with them. Hunter longed to say a few things—more than a few—but the birthing suite was no place to hash through events of the past.
Maci fished through her purse, locating a pack of gum. She offered him a stick before unwrapping one for herself.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he said as he took the stick of gum.
He leaned in and gave in to the desire to brush a lock from Maci’s cheek. The texture was soft, silky—not at all what he expected from the abundance of curls. He was loath to let it go.
“Thank you.”
“And you’re awfully cheerful for someone who’s been up all night.”
“And, you’re awfully grumpy.” She slipped the gum into her mouth. “Isn’t your body trained for these odd hours, doing the rescue work you do?” The scent of spearmint drifted as she chewed.
“Sure. I’m just a bit out of sorts.” It was more than that—she’d awakened something in him that had been sleeping for nearly a decade. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt every nerve hum, every sense pique. He tossed the gum into his mouth and the sharp flavor spread to singe his sinuses. “I never expected…it’s been a long time.”
Maci glanced at the ceiling, and he knew she was thinking of Ali who was sleeping soundly in the birthing suite three stories up with Ryder curled like a pretzel in the pull-out chair at Ali’s bedside. The look of delight on Ryder’s face when he stepped into the hall to announce the birth of his firstborn son was enough to get Hunter wishing for something solid…something lasting.
But, unlike Ryder, Hunter knew he’d never have a child of his own. How could he ever be trusted with another life, after what had happened to Josh?
“Exactly how long has it been since you’ve seen Ryder and Ali…since you’ve spoken to them?” Maci’s voice drew him back.
“Years…until tonight.”
“But I thought you were best friends.”
“We were. It’s…complicated.” The explanation was painful, and he had no desire to reopen the wound while he felt so off-balance. He and Ryder had talked a bit over a cup of coffee in the cafeteria after Rory was whisked off to the NICU and while Maci sat with Ali. They’d begun to reconstruct the bridge Hunter was sure, until last night, remained irreparable. But there were still so many gaps to fill…so much that needed to be said.
Maci leaned in, her shoulder nudging his. “I didn’t see you at their wedding.”
“I was...” He was going to finish with working, but the lie wouldn’t come. The truth was, a year ago he hadn’t been ready to return to Willow Lake.
Maci dipped her head, speaking slowly. “I know about Josh. Ali speaks of him often. She told me—”
“Don’t.” Hunter strode to the vending machine and fed another dollar into the slot. His gut would just have to push through the sludge-induced pain. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’ll have to sometime.”
“Oh?” A cup dropped into the dispenser, followed by the trickle of muddy, dark liquid. The aroma of coffee filled the room. “What makes you such an expert?”
Maci simply offered a ghost of a grin. “Do you mind if we head outside to the courtyard while you drink that? I could use some fresh air.”
“Sure. That’s a great idea. Lead the way.”
She turned to grab her violin case as the babies continued their symphony of squalling. It was only steps and a quick trip through a revolving door that brought them into the moonlight melded with muted lighting from the parking lot across the way. Trees swayed in a gentle breeze, their leaves chattering against the stars.
Maci set the violin case on a low-bricked retaining wall and loosened the clasps. Hunter hoped there was no damage to the instrument; he knew how much she loved it, and wondered at the strength of her friendship with Ali that would make concern for such a valuable instrument so secondary.
She ran her hands in a caress over the polished wood and then let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. As though handling a newborn, she rested the violin back in the case. He wanted to speak, to confirm the violin wasn’t damaged, but somehow it seemed blasphemous to interrupt the beautiful reverence unfolding before him. He contemplated for a moment what it would be like to be the recipient of Maci’s tender affection.
She rosined her bow and retrieved the violin. Gently plucking at the strings, she tuned the instrument, and then attached a piece across the bridge that looked like one of the practice mutes his sister used to use. Tucking the wood beneath her chin, Maci fluidly ran the bow over strings. Soon a rich, sweet melody filled the NICU courtyard.
Hunter’s shoulders relaxed as the timbre, slow and soothing, washed over him. For a moment, he nearly forgot he was standing near the hospital lobby, the night inching toward dawn, while patients healed and neonatal nurses rushed by the foyer to tend to ailing babies.
He turned to watch Maci and was instantly transported to a concert hall. Her rich, fluid movements were the very definition of graceful. His tongue sat like a brick in his mouth as what he saw defied description.
Beautiful.
That’s all he could muster—one simple word. She was beautiful.
In that moment, he was transformed. He fell in love as her fingers, long and delicate, caressed the bow while it whispered across the strings. Her eyes slipped closed, and her body swayed in time to the gentle rhythm. Curls brushed the length of her back like a curtain of copper silk, and Hunter longed once again to smooth his fingers through the sleek shimmer.
When she finished, the courtyard fell silent except for the whirr of an air conditioning unit and the swish of the revolving entrance door. Hunter’s heart pounded against his ribs and he wondered why she couldn’t hear it.
“Maci.” Her name on his lips was perfect…the salve he’d been searching for. He closed the
distance between them as if in a dream. “I’ve never seen anything so…mesmerizing.”
She shrugged lightly, her eyes dancing. “I love to play.”
“I love to watch you play.” The adrenaline that surged through his veins made Hunter throw caution to the wind. He took the instrument from her and tugged her close. “It makes me want to do crazy things.”
A hint of blush reddened her cheeks, and she sighed as he grazed her jaw with a knuckle. “Such as?”
“Kiss you.” The words were a sigh on his lips. “Is that OK?”
Her nod was barely decipherable, but it was enough to make Hunter lean in and claim her lips once, twice.
“Hunter…” Maci’s sigh brought him back. “I don’t think we should…”
“I know.” It took every ounce of restraint to release her. Hunter wondered at the tsunami that rushed over him, leaving him disoriented and confused. The blend of pleasure and caution was so unfamiliar he didn’t know how to wrap his brain around it. So he handed her the violin and took a giant step back.
“I’m sorry.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt. Despite the generous rush of cool night air, the courtyard was suddenly stifling. “That was uncalled for. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t apologize.” Maci pressed an index finger to her lips. “It was…nice.”
“Nice?” He tried not to feel offended. But the kiss, to him, had been much more than nice. He crossed to a wrought iron bench flanked by knockout roses and settled into it, working to steady the tremor of his pulse and keep his voice even. “How did you know your music would calm so much?”
“It’s my job to know.”
“Well,” He shrugged. Her answer was cryptic, but he let it go. “I’d say your work here is done.”
