She’d handed him to the firefighter and was attempting to follow when Callum caught her elbow in his hand.
“Take them to the hospital, just in case?”
She nodded. “It’s protocol.”
He gritted his teeth. Either he was in a lot of pain—undoubtedly—or he was getting ready to say something painful. She waited, anticipating the blow.
“Stay with them?” he asked. “Please?”
She closed her eyes as the tears she’d swallowed back earlier burned her eyes. She wouldn’t cry in front of him.
She opened her eyes, extra wide so the tears wouldn’t fall. “Okay.”
#
Callum blinked hard and struggled to focus on the image before him in the dim fluorescent light.
Those weren’t his boots.
His head hurt. He was woozy and nauseated, and his left leg pulsed with pain. What had happened?
Something hummed in his ears. The slender tan boots with pink stitching knocked to one side, and he got his eyes to working and trailed the boot shaft up a shapely denim-covered calf which seemed to be attached to an attractive set of slender hips, which belonged to…
Iris Tatum slumbered in the chair next to his bedside, one leg propped on his mattress, her cheek pillowed on her elbow on the chair’s arm. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her lashes made shadows against her cheeks.
He knew something wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be here, at his side, but for one moment he let himself believe, let himself remember what it was like to have her love…
Antiseptic smells burned his nostrils as emotion welled in his chest, filling up all the cracks that a lifetime of neglect and abandonment had left inside him.
His missing memories came back to him in a rush. The accident. His truck.
The boys.
“Iris.” The word stuck in his throat. He tried to clear his throat.
There was a pitcher and cup on a rolling table nearby, but it was too far too reach. He felt like a two thousand pound bull sat on his chest. His limbs were heavy, immovable. Several machines droned nearby, and it was full dark around the edges of the curtain at the window.
She stirred. Hummed a little bit, deep in her throat, and the noise hit him down deep in his belly.
He frowned, knowing he shouldn’t be feeling anything for her, not even attraction. He’d never thought to see her again, thought she’d be long gone and good riddance to Redbud Trails.
It had been both of their dreams to get as far away as they could.
She sat up with a start, rubbing one hand over her face. When she straightened, he saw a red crease across her cheek and a messy, hot feeling expanded in his chest. He’d dreamed of seeing her like this, every morning, as his wife.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She turned her back to him, rubbing both hands over her face again. Hiding from him?
He hadn’t expected her to stay, not this long. But instead of thank you, what emerged from his mouth was, “Where are my boys?” His voice was loaded with gravel, and she stood up to fetch the water without him asking.
Water sluiced from the pitcher into the cup, and he swallowed reflexively.
“They’re fine,” she said, pressing the cup into his hand. “They’re sleeping in a room down the hall.”
Just the slide of her fingers against his palm sent goosebumps cascading up his arm and down his back. He frowned, focusing on getting the cup to his mouth without spilling the water all over his chest. His sluggish brain conjured an image of her snuggled up with the three boys, and he blinked—hard—to clear it. Even after he’d slugged the water, a metallic taste remained.
He glanced at the clock. “It’s the middle of the night. What are you still doing here?”
After he’d weathered the forty-five minute ride in the back of an ambulance to the next biggest town that had a hospital, there had been a flurry of x-rays and an examination before they’d taken him into surgery, late in the afternoon. The orthopedic surgeon wasn’t local, and it was today or wait a week. He’d opted for today.
After surgery, he’d woken once earlier in the recovery room, but this room appeared to be a private affair. They must’ve moved him.
She couldn’t know how much hope—pointless hope—her presence gave him. He tried to steel himself against it.
“You asked me to stay with the boys…the doctor said he would release them, since there’s nothing wrong with them, but he couldn’t release them to you because you’re in here, and no one could find contact information for your wife…”
She flushed, glancing at a shelf on the wall where someone had folded his clothes. Beside them sat his cell phone. It didn’t take much of an imagination to guess that either she or someone else had flipped through his contacts on the device. Maybe even looked at the pictures, looking for evidence of someone who didn’t exist. Strangers, these doctors, nurses, firefighters…
He scowled as he imagined the town that had rejected him so completely talking about him again. And his sons. Sam, the only friend he’d kept in touch with over the years, had said it would be different now, but Callum couldn’t believe, not yet. “Grapevine must be going nuts,” he muttered, unable to stop the tinge of bitterness in his voice.
Her nose wrinkled, an expression he remembering poignantly, one that meant she thought he was being unreasonable.
“I’m not married.” He said it simply, made it a statement in hopes that she wouldn’t press for details, not now.
“Oh.”
Back before he’d left, he’d always been able to read her. Not this time. She had ahold of both elbows, her arms crossed over her middle like she was cold, and kept her eyes on the wall, not on him. He didn’t want to hurt her—never had, even though it had been inevitable—but hated that he couldn’t tell if his revelation had any effect on her.
“Well, I can…I guess I can stay with the boys until the morning. Do you have someone who can come take them?”
He shifted in the bed, the movement jarring his leg. He winced, and she looked worriedly toward the door.
There was no one else.
“I’ll talk to the doctor in the morning. If I can get a ride out to my place, we can all go home together.” It wasn’t ideal, but then, what about his life was? Except for the boys, he’d had to fight tooth and nail for everything.
Her brows had folded together in an expression of skepticism. “They won’t release you tomorrow—not when you’ve just had surgery.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but then she frowned too, and took a step away from the bed. Like maybe she was remembering that it wasn’t her business, that they weren’t even friends, no matter what she’d said to his sons in the truck.
He shrugged, forcing his face into a casual expression, like this was just another day. “They’ll have to.”
#
By mid-morning the next day, Callum had had his IV removed and been weaned off narcotics, and he felt every ache and pain from the crash.
He’d been banged up plenty riding bulls on the circuit. Dislocated his shoulder twice, sprained his wrist, his knee. But he’d never hurt like this, from his head to his toes.
But he asked for the doctor anyway, determined to take the boys home with him. Iris had done enough, watching them overnight.
And what was she still doing in town anyway? They’d both talked about leaving Redbud Trails back in high school. She’d had plans to go to New York City, had connections through her work with the ballet company in Oklahoma City.
Surely she hadn’t…waited on him?
He hated the thought that she might have given up her dreams to stay here.
He forced himself to shake off those thoughts and focus on the boys. They needed him, and he could fight through any pain for that. Plus, he didn’t think he could survive another night in the hospital, with nurses walking in at all hours. How was a body supposed to get any rest?
Voices in the hallway preceded Buck, his
business partner, followed immediately by the doctor. The doctor looked about Callum’s twenty-five, but surely he must be older to have gone through med school. Buck could’ve been his father and was a local here in Redbud Trails.
“I can’t release you,” the doctor said even though Callum was sitting up with his legs slung off the side of the bed. “And you need to keep that leg elevated.”
“You’ll have to—”
The doctor shook his head. “The way your bone broke through the skin, we need to watch for signs of infection—”
“But—”
“Whoa now,” Buck said, laying a hand on Callum’s shoulder. “What’s the rush?”
“I’ve gotta get the boys home.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a figure appeared in the doorway, drawing his gaze up. Make that four figures. Iris was holding Levi and Tyler’s hands clasped in hers, while Brandt clung to the back of her shirt.
“Here’s Daddy,” she said softly. There were shadows behind and under her eyes, as if she were haunted by their encounter yesterday. She wasn’t the only one.
He took in the boys, their tousled hair and sleepy eyes. Tyler had his thumb in his mouth, a sign of his distress that Callum hadn’t been able to train out of him yet.
The boys, usually rowdy, hesitated in the doorway. They were more shaken up than he’d expected.
“C’mere, guys. I’m all right.”
Iris gave them a little push, and they ran to him. Tyler threw himself at Callum and hugged his good leg. Iris snagged the back of Brandt’s shirt before he did the same to Cal’s injured leg, lifting him onto the bed instead. He got a whiff of her sweet perfume, something flowery, over the hospital’s antiseptic smell.
Callum shot her a grateful look as she backed away, but her eyes shuttered, and his gut clenched.
The doctor shifted, consulting the chart. “I can’t release you until forty-eight to seventy-two hours have passed since you came out of surgery.”
“Up, Daddy!” Tyler reached up for Cal.
“Just a second, son.” He settled Brandt beside him, making sure he wasn’t going to tip over the edge, then reached down for Levi.
A moment later, he pulled Tyler up, stifling a groan as he settled Tyler on his lap. Just that movement sent fire down his spine and rang his clock.
He hated to admit it, but the doctor was right. Callum didn’t know if he could get out of this bed, much less care for his boys. But he had to. They needed him.
“I’m sorry that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s too much of a risk.” The doctor shook his head and slipped out of the room, past Iris who looked like she wanted to duck out the door as well.
Buck stepped closer and ruffled Brandt’s hair. “You’ve had a rough couple of days, haven’t you?”
Brandt squealed and shook his head to dislodge Buck’s hand.
He turned his gaze on Callum. Other than Joe, Buck had been more a father and friend than anyone else in Callum’s life. “You’ve got to rest up, son.”
Just the casual use of the nickname brought a hot lump to Callum’s throat. He cleared his throat to rid himself of it.
“I’ve got commitments, and I plan to honor them.” The agreement Buck had drawn up favored Callum, gave him five years to learn the company and buy out the older man, who was ready to retire. This injury was a setback he didn’t need.
“You’re not going to be driving a truck or a combine with that leg crushed up.”
But Cal knew that meant the older man would have to take his place with the harvest crew until his leg healed. He ground his back teeth, wanting to argue but knowing Buck was right.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good. Rest up a couple of weeks, then you can join the crew and finish out the harvest.”
It would be a relief to have the extra time to find a nanny. He’d been out of luck since his arrival back in Redbud Trails.
He rubbed one hand over his face. “Thanks, Buck.”
In his inattention, Brandt had begun pushing buttons and raising the head of the bed. The motion jarred Callum but he ignored the pain rolling throughout him, gritting his teeth.
A sharp knock on the doorframe diverted his attention from the boys.
Iris moved aside, though she remained in the room, and a woman who looked slightly frazzled and definitely harried stepped into the room.
“I’m Amanda Elliot. I’m from social services. I assume you are Callum Stewart?”
Everything inside him stilled, and then a bolt of terror shocked him.
He shot a horrified glance at Iris. “You called social services?” He knew she must hate him after his desertion, but he hadn’t expected this.
She flinched as if he’d struck her.
“She did not.” The social worker’s voice cracked like a whip. She looked young, fresh out of college maybe. Just what he needed—some over-zealous do-gooder to cause him problems.
“Our office received a call from Mr. and Mrs. Jamison, who had some very specific concerns about the boys’ care when they heard of your accident.”
Rachel’s parents.
His gut clenched with fear and hot emotion. He would just bet they had concerns. How had they even known about the accident? Were they in town? The thought filled him with terror.
“Daddy, you’re holding too tight!” Brandt squirmed against him, and Callum loosened his grasp.
“The Jamisons are the boys’ maternal grandparents, as I understand it?”
No doubt Maude had spilled all kinds of ugly details about him—but had she told the social worker the most important things?
He was acutely aware of Iris’s presence near the door. And he resented it. But maybe she was there to keep an eye on the boys? Make sure they were okay. And would they be, now that the Jamisons were involved?
He cleared his throat and pitched his voice low, hoping the boys were too busy fiddling with the remote, cranking up the volume to the TV, to pay attention. “Did they mention that there’s a restraining order against them? Or that they attempted to abduct my sons?”
He swallowed against the hot knot of fear that lodged in his throat, remembering those frenzied hours when he’d been powerless, when he hadn’t known where his boys were or what had happened to them.
A brief flare of surprise lit the woman’s eyes as she flipped through the stack of papers she held.
He didn’t dare look at Iris. Would their past overshadow the compassion she’d given so freely to the boys over the last twenty-four hours? Back when they’d been close, her compassion had been one of the things that had brought them together, one of the things he’d valued most about her.
He didn’t want her pity. He firmed his jaw and hiked his chin. “If they’re petitioning for temporary custody, you have to deny them. I don’t have the paperwork on me…” He didn’t have anything after the crash, and he couldn’t begin to guess which box in their trailer had the papers filed in it. “But you can call the Midland County courthouse down in Texas, and they’ll pull a copy of the restraining order.”
“I’ll do that,” the social worker murmured. He’d flustered her, that was for sure. “But we still have an issue with the boys—who’s going to care for them while you’re incapacitated?”
He gritted his teeth. He would kill Rachel’s parents if he ever got his hands on them.
“I’m getting out of here today—”
“I spoke to the doctor in the hall, and he told me he can’t release you for another couple of days. If there’s no family who can take the boys, we’ll have to put them in a temporary foster placement—”
“No!”
His adamant refusal scared the boys. Tyler popped his thumb back in his mouth while Brandt’s lower lip trembled. Levi just stared, wide-eyed.
And then Iris was there, scooping Brandt into her arms. Callum pulled Tyler into his lap and stroked Levi’s head. “I’m not mad at you guys. I’m sorry I got loud.”
This wasn’t his finest hour, he k
new that. He hated that Iris and the social worker were witnessing it. He was in pain, sleep-deprived, and worried about his boys. He’d seen his share of foster homes in Redbud Trails, and there was no way he was letting his boys see the inside of one of them. No way.
He looked down on the wide-eyed boy looking back at him with such trust. And he swallowed his pride. He would do anything to keep them out of the foster system. Anything.
Iris touched his wrist. He looked at her, but she was facing off with the social worker. “Callum and the boys will stay with me and Jilly until Cal recovers. Our ranch house is plenty big enough for everyone.”
He breathed in deeply through his nose. Why would she offer that? She’d already stayed with his boys all night. It only took thirty minutes to learn how much trouble they were.
And she knew he wasn’t married. Wouldn’t tongues wag in town if a bachelor stayed on with two single women? Did she really want that kind of trouble on top of everything else?
He had no clue what she was thinking. The truth was, he was a little afraid to be so close to her again. Whatever the reason, she was still in Redbud Trails, and she had a life, and he wasn’t a part of it.
But looking down into the faces of his boys, he knew he wouldn’t refuse. He would do whatever it took to keep them out of foster care. To protect them.
Even if he had to face off with the demons of his past. He would do it. For the boys.
#
“You did what?”
Jilly’s disbelieving tone echoed Iris’s own emotions, still spiraling after the powwow with Callum. What had she been thinking?
The afternoon sunlight was waning, shining through the big double barn doors that Iris had thrown open when she’d come out here to muck stalls. Just outside the doors, the three rambunctious boys played a game of chase among the long field grasses.
Jilly picked up a pitchfork, moving toward the bale of sweet-smelling hay that Iris had broken open in the aisle.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Iris asked as she pitched a fork-full of dirty hay into a strategically placed wheelbarrow.
The Art Of Falling Page 13
