by Lisa Carter
Dr. Roberts nodded. “I like the way you think, young man. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.” He extended his hand to Jackson. “I’ll come out and talk to Phoebe when she arrives. Oh, and make sure she introduces you to Melanie. I’m sure she’d love to meet the man who rescued her.”
“Thanks again,” Jackson said and took a seat to wait for Phoebe’s arrival.
When she burst through the hospital entrance minutes later, he saw her quickly race down the hall straight toward him. “How is she, Jackson?” She removed her raincoat and flung it over her arm.
Sara came down the hallway holding a cup of coffee in each hand. “Hi, Phoebe. I saw you pull into the parking lot. I’m happy you made it here safe.” She smiled. “I thought you and Jackson could use this.” She handed them each a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I’ll let Dr. Roberts know you’re here.” She pointed to a private room next to the waiting area. “You can have a seat in there.”
Jackson nodded and took a quick sip. Strong and black, it was just what he needed. “Thanks for the coffee, Sara.” He took hold of Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go sit down for a minute.”
A small circular oak table and four chairs filled the entire windowless room. The strong aroma of the cleaning agents in the hallway gave way to the smell of pink tea roses in a crystal vase decorating the middle of the table. The chair screeched when Jackson pulled it out for Phoebe.
“Melanie’s going to be fine.” He reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. “I don’t want you to worry.”
They prayed quietly until Dr. Roberts, clipboard in hand, joined them. He took a seat and smiled. “Hello, Phoebe. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you, too. How’s Melanie?”
“She’s as strong as they come. She regained consciousness shortly after Jackson brought her in. Her memory appears fine, so that’s a blessing. The X-rays are all clear, no broken bones. But the MRI showed she does have a slight concussion, so we’ll keep her overnight, but she’ll be ready to go home with you in the morning.”
Phoebe clapped her hands together. “Thank God! The poor girl has been through enough.” She released a heavy breath. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”
Jackson considered Phoebe’s statement. Melanie must have endured some type of hardship, but now was not the time to ask questions. He squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Let’s stay focused on the positive.”
Dr. Roberts left, and they stood under the flickering fluorescent lights in silence. Phoebe stepped forward. “One day you’re going to make another woman very happy, Mr. Daughtry. Now let’s go check on my niece. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet.”
Jackson nodded. As they walked down the hall toward Melanie’s room, his breath quickened. At the doorway, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Why was he so nervous? He felt like a teenage boy getting ready for his first date.
* * *
Melanie opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again to escape the searing pain. The fluorescent lights burned her vision. Who in the world invented fluorescent lighting, anyway? It was the worst.
Images flashed through her mind of a whitetail deer tearing across the road, her car headed toward a tree, and then everything went black.
She opened her eyes again to see a woman’s face peering through a curtain.
Hospital. She should have known. Hospitals always had annoying fluorescent lights.
“How’s our patient feeling?” asked a petite blonde woman carrying a frosted pitcher and a plastic cup. She approached the bedside and smiled.
Stiff.
Exactly how Melanie had felt after she completed her fifth marathon, one month before her life had changed forever. She squirmed in an attempt to sit up, but a pain shot down her neck, like needles jabbing into her skin. She nestled back under the sheet.
“I’m Sara, your nurse.” She filled the cup with water and pulled a red straw from her pocket. “Try to drink a little. You need to stay hydrated.”
Melanie took the cup and placed the straw to her parched lips. “Is my aunt Phoebe here?” She sipped the cool liquid and flinched when it touched the back of her throat. “I remember a deer running in front of my car. Is that why I’m here?” She pressed her palm to her forehead. Her head throbbed as though someone bashed a rubber hammer against it.
“Here, take this. It will help with the pain, but it will make you sleepy.”
Melanie reached for the tiny clear cup that held the medicine as the nurse walked toward the window and tilted the blinds. “I’ve always preferred natural light.” She flipped a switch, and the fluorescent beacon vanished.
The pressure in Melanie’s head and around her eyes eased. “Thank you so much. I love the natural light, too.” She took another sip of the water, ran her fingers down the side of the cup and glanced out the window. “It stopped raining.” She wiped her fingers, wet from the moisture, onto her gown. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Sara placed her fist under her chin. Her fingernails were painted bloodred. “From what I understand, Jackson—”
“Jackson? Who’s Jackson?”
Sara flashed a mischievous smile. “Why, he’s the most handsome paramedic in all of Sweet Gum Valley, honey. Every woman within a hundred-mile radius would love to lasso the charming Mr. Daughtry, myself included.” She smoothed the back of her hair and placed her right hand across her narrow hip. “He’s the person who rescued you.”
Details were a blur, with the exception of the blinding rain, the deer and a tree. “Rescued me?” There were many events over the last year that she’d love to forget, but this wasn’t one of them. “Please, tell me what happened.”
“You were in a car accident on Smith Farm Road. Jackson was in the car behind you. He saw the deer dart across the road. You swerved to miss it and hit a tree.” Sara reached down and brushed a strand of hair away from Melanie’s face. “By the look of those cuts on your cheek and forehead, God was watching over you.”
Melanie put her hand to her forehead. He’s forgotten about me.
The white walls of the tiny room closed in around her. Why had she left DC? She wanted to go home and back to the job that occupied her mind for more than seventy hours a week—sometimes more. Work erased the pain of the past year.
When Aunt Phoebe had called last week and begged her to come for a visit, Melanie had finally given in. Phoebe was Melanie’s only living relative. She hoped to convince Phoebe to move to DC and live with her. Aunt Phoebe was her father’s younger sister. Somewhere in her attic, probably stuck in a box and gathering dust, Melanie had a photo of them together as children. She released a heavy breath. “I want to see my aunt Phoebe. Is she here?”
“Yes, Phoebe’s here. She’s down the hall, talking with Jackson.”
Sara headed toward the door and turned. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Push the button if you need anything, sweetie.”
Melanie rested her head against the mountain of pillows, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. She wished she could disappear through a crack in the drywall and go back to her home in DC.
Moments later she heard footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside the door, and there was a gentle knock. “Can we come in?”
Melanie gave the sheet a slight tug to cover her flimsy blue hospital gown. “Yes.” The sight of Aunt Phoebe’s smiling face in the doorway brought tears to Melanie’s eyes. The last time they’d seen each other had been the funeral. Had it really been a year? Some days it felt like an eternity.
“Oh dear, thank God you’re okay.” Aunt Phoebe glided across the floor to her bedside and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what would have happened if Jackson hadn’t been there. Your car was towed to Wilbourn’s Autobody, so no need to fret about that. It will be repaired in a couple of days.”
<
br /> Her aunt turned toward the door, and Melanie’s eyes followed. Her breath caught in her throat. A gorgeous, tall man with dark, wavy hair and a muscular frame stood in the doorway.
Their eyes connected for an instant, and her heart fluttered when his cheeks flushed. “I suppose you’re the infamous Jackson.” When he smiled, she looked away, but not before she took notice of his hypnotic deep blue eyes. He was perfection—which was reason enough to avoid him.
“Come in, Jackson.” Aunt Phoebe beamed and extended her hand toward him. “I’d like to introduce you to my lovely niece.” She moved aside, and he sauntered toward Melanie’s bed with his thumbs through his belt loops. “Jackson Daughtry, this is my niece, Melanie Harper.”
Jackson jerked his thumbs loose and touched his hand to hers. She expected roughness. The silky smooth feel of his skin caught her off guard. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me to the hospital.” She looked up and curved her lips into a small smile. “I don’t remember exactly what happened, but Sara told me I was unconscious, and you pulled me from my car.” His touch was gentle. She shifted in the bed and pulled away her hand.
“It’s my job.” He smiled. “Anyone traveling behind you would have stopped and done the same.”
Aunt Phoebe laughed. “Now, Jackson, don’t be so modest. Jackson’s a paramedic, but he had the day off today. I think I know him well enough to say he never really goes off duty. Even as a child, he rescued anything he could.” She placed her index finger to her chin. “Do you remember Miss Pearson’s cat? Marcie... I think it was her name.”
Jackson smiled. “Yes, it was.”
“Well, she got stuck, and Jackson climbed all the way up a huge oak tree to save her.”
A hint of redness covered Jackson’s cheeks at her aunt’s praise.
“A cat, really? That’s commendable of you.” Melanie nodded.
A slight smile pulled on one side of his mouth. “It was when I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”
“Save cats?” Melanie blurted.
Judging by the raised eyebrow Aunt Phoebe threw in her direction, she obviously didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.
Jackson pushed his shoulders back. “Well, mostly people, but animals, too, if they need rescuing.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “I’ll never forget the feeling when I placed Marcie back into Miss Pearson’s wrinkled hands. She lived alone for thirty years after her husband died. Marcie was all she had.”
“Jackson has always had a good heart.” Aunt Phoebe grinned and patted his arm.
Barricaded.
That was what Melanie’s heart was now. She would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself from further anguish.
Aunt Phoebe took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You look tired, dear. Maybe we should leave so you can get some rest.”
Melanie squirmed, struggling to sit up. “First I need to talk to you about the reason I came to Sweet Gum.” She wouldn’t let the fact that she’d had an accident and was now in the hospital stop her from telling Aunt Phoebe the truth of her mission.
“You came to get some much-needed rest, child.” Aunt Phoebe slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves of her raincoat.
“Yes, it’s true, but the main reason is to bring you back to DC to live with me.” She blew out a breath. There, she’d said it.
“What?” Jackson shouted and looked around the room. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
Aunt Phoebe rubbed the top of Melanie’s head. “Dear, you’re talking crazy. I would never leave Sweet Gum.”
Melanie noticed Jackson listening intently. He even shook his head a couple of times.
“Now, you get some rest. Dr. Roberts said you can go home in the morning.” Aunt Phoebe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll prepare a big dinner, just like it’s Sunday.”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me. Besides, I’m not a big eater.”
“Nonsense. You need more meat on your bones.” She squeezed Melanie’s arm. “I don’t know how you keep warm. I’ll make you some crispy fried chicken. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” She turned to him. “You save your appetite, too. I’ll prepare a meal for the hero...and bring your sweet little girl since school’s out again tomorrow for that teacher workday.”
Jackson nodded. “Sounds great. Rebecca loves your fried chicken.” He looked in Melanie’s direction. “Rebecca’s my five-year-old daughter.”
Aunt Phoebe waved goodbye, and Jackson followed her. The door closed, and they were gone.
The IV drip hummed. Melanie covered her face with a pillow. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t come here to mingle with the locals. She just wanted to bring her aunt home. Jackson and his daughter weren’t family. Why did her aunt act as though they were related? Melanie took a sip of her water and rolled onto her side.
She wasn’t ready to be around children, not yet. Maybe never. She’d tried keeping a journal, like the doctor had suggested, but the pain felt even more real when she’d put her thoughts down on paper. What did her doctor know, anyway? He hadn’t lost his children—she’d seen the photo of him and his wife with three smiling boys on the corner of his mahogany desk. She yanked the sheet over her head, wishing she could stay hidden forever, but whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she’d be having dinner with Jackson and his daughter.
* * *
As Jackson headed to the Whitesides’ house, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca. While he drove along their half-mile gravel driveway, his thoughts drifted to Melanie. How dare she suggest moving Phoebe to DC? She’d never even visited and knew nothing about her aunt’s life and how happy she was living in the valley. It was obvious Melanie was a woman with a heavy heart, but that didn’t give her a right to uproot Phoebe.
He pulled in front of the Whitesides’ house and honked the horn. Within seconds, Rebecca flew out the door. He smiled and watched the love of his life, his vivacious daughter, sprint toward his truck. She ran as though she was trying to reach the finish line and he was the prize. For a second, his joy turned to sadness as he wondered how many more years she would think of him as her hero. He pushed the thought away and jumped from the truck with open arms.
“Daddy, can I have a puppy? Please, can I?” Rebecca pleaded and took a giant leap into his arms.
“What? Who wants to sell my baby a puppy?” Jackson decided he’d play around a little with his daughter. He placed her back on the ground.
Rebecca frowned. “I’m not a baby.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be six in a few months.”
“So tell me, what kind of dog is this?” The buzz around town was that Larry Whiteside was breeding a litter of Labrador retrievers.
With eyes wide and as blue as the ocean, Rebecca began to captivate him—as she always did. He’d have been the first to admit he was a softy when it came to his daughter and the things she asked for. “Mr. Whiteside said Sally is going to have her pups soon, and she’s big and yellow. He told me I had to ask you first,” Rebecca answered.
Jackson scratched his chin. “Let me think about it for a bit. Hmm...well, since our closest neighbors are ten miles down the road and they’re seventy-five years old, you just might need a little friend.”
Rebecca jumped up and down and then proceeded to twirl. She loved to twirl. “Yes! I’ll take care of her. I promise. I’ve already picked out a name. I want to call her Samantha.”
Jackson’s heart melted. He could never say no to his little girl. “We have a couple of days before the pups are born, and they will have to stay with their mama for a while.” He cupped her chin. “I do have one question for you, sweetie. What happens if all of Sally’s puppies are boys? What will you name him?”
“Daddy, come on. I’d call him Sam—duh.”
He lau
ghed and gave her a big bear hug. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
Larry and Wilma Whiteside, along with their daughter Mary, Rebecca’s best friend, stood on their porch as he and his daughter walked to the front door to thank them for having Rebecca over. “Anytime Mary wants to come over for the night, she’s always welcome.” Jackson smiled as he reached to shake Larry’s hand.
As they walked back to the truck, Rebecca looked up. “Can she come tonight since tomorrow’s Friday and we don’t have school?” He lifted Rebecca in and buckled her seat belt.
“I think you two had enough time together for now. Besides, we have plans tomorrow.”
She bounced up and down in her seat. “What are we doing?”
He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. “Miss Phoebe has invited us over for an early dinner. Her niece is visiting.”
“Is she the lady you rescued?” Rebecca asked and kicked her feet against the back of his seat.
“Where did you hear I rescued someone?”
“I heard Mrs. Whiteside telling Mr. Whiteside you saved a lady today.”
“Yes, she was Miss Phoebe’s niece. She’s from Washington, DC.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know where DC is, don’t you?”
“Ah...duh, of course—it’s our nation’s capital.” She flashed a lopsided grin in the reflection. Jackson stifled his laugh. He wasn’t keen on her using “duh,” but sometimes it was too darn cute.
“Is she pretty?” The kicking subsided. “What’s her name?”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Her name is Miss Melanie.” Her face flashed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” He swallowed hard. Too pretty. What had he been thinking when he agreed to dinner?
Copyright © 2017 by Jill Weatherholt
ISBN-13: 9781488018213
The Deputy’s Perfect Match
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Carter
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