Edie Perez, the night nurse, met him. “Sheriff?”
“She collapsed. Not breathing well. Where is the doc?”
“With another patient. I’ll get her. Take her into two.”
She pushed the release button to let him carry Leia back to the treatment area. She raced to tell the doctor.
He’d been here plenty of times in an official capacity, and once with Carlee when she’d broken her arm skiing, but never had he felt so helpless and disoriented. Leia felt slight against him, her vitality lost to unconsciousness. He wanted to howl at all the people she had around her and find out how in the hell they could let her get so sick.
He laid Leia on the table, unfastened her coat, and reached for the oxygen.
Edie bustled into the room and took over the job, then loosened Leia’s clothing. Doc Jude was only seconds behind her.
“What have we got, Sheriff?” She took one look at the patient on the table and groaned. “Again?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice not to shake. He stopped to clear his throat. “She collapsed on my doorstep about fifteen minutes ago. Running a fever, not breathing too well.”
“Any vitals?”
He shook his head. “No time. No equipment.”
Edie had already started vitals, while the Doc checked her over. “Where’s she been? Not here in town. Everybody’s talking about how she’s been gone.”
“As near as I can tell, she’s been all over the country, Europe, Afghanistan.” Zach kept his hand laced with Leia’s, the warmth returning to her hand reassured him.
Doc listened to the vitals Edie gave her, then checked over her throat, mouth, and ears while Edie removed Leia’s shoes and socks and loosened the rest of her clothes.
Finally, Doc took out her stethoscope and listened to Leia’s chest. “Run a full blood panel and some X-rays,” she said to Edie when she’d finished.
“Doc?” Zach tried to still the pounding in his blood, but his body was having none of it. He was about to jump out of his skin.
He squeezed Leia’s hand, hoping she could sense him there. All his walls were blasted apart, all the reasons for staying away from her seemed trivial and unfounded. She had to be okay.
“She’s worse than last time. She has pneumonia and she’s probably got the flu.”
He couldn’t help it. He rubbed Leia’s hair back from her face, stroking her heated forehead like he did Carlee’s when was sick.
“Get an IV started, Edie. We’ll keep her on the oxygen, and get some antibiotics going.”
Edie left the room to arrange for the tests and get an IV tray.
“We’re going to have to admit her, Zach.” Doc looked up from the chart she was scribbling on.
He nodded, already having figured that out. “Doc, don’t tell anyone she’s here.”
“You ever heard of medical privacy? HIPAA is my middle name,” she answered.
“You know what the press will do if they find out she’s here. She won’t get a minutes peace and neither will anyone else just like last time.” Right now, Zach would rip them to shreds if any of those blood suckers showed up in his town.
Doc watched him for a minute in silence, long enough for him to feel guilty for pushing her. “Now, Zach. When have I ever broken my word to you?”
Zach cupped Leia’s face, reluctant to turn away. He finally gazed at the curiosity and compassion in the doctor’s eyes. “Never, Doc. You’ve never broken your word to me. Sorry, she needs protecting right now.”
“Well, you’re just the man for that job, aren’t you?”
He grimaced. Before he could apologize, Doc left the room.
An orderly came in with Edie and they took Leia to get her X-rays. Edie was adamant about Zach staying behind. “Why don’t you go home, Sheriff? We’ll call you.”
“No. I’ll be right here when you bring her back. I’m not leaving her.”
Edie started to argue with him, then got a good look at his expression—which he was sure was formidable—and shrugged. “Your time. We’re going to admit her into a room.”
“Don’t use her real name.”
Edie stopped mid-stride. “I won’t, I promise.”
He paced the corridor. He took out his cell phone and called home. Carlee answered on the first ring.
“Is she okay?”
“Pneumonia. Maybe the flu.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“I hope so, but I don’t know yet, sweetheart. She’s going to have to be admitted to the hospital. She’s pretty sick, kiddo. I’ll know more in awhile. Go to bed, baby. I’m going to stay here with her. Let me talk to Wyatt.”
“I love you, Dad. Tell Leia I love her when she wakes up.”
“I will, hon. I love you, too.”
His brother got on the phone.
He cut to the chase. “Can you stay the night?”
“Yeah, no problem. I got this covered. Take care of Leia.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.”
Zach hung up and forced himself to find one spot where he could lean against the wall and watch for Leia. As soon as they got her settled, he intended to plant himself by her side at least until she woke up. She was one very sick woman and he did not want her waking up alone in a strange place with people who didn’t care. That would add insult to his already raw emotions and scare her to death. The idea of her being scared without him to protect her he couldn’t stand.
Leia surfaced slowly, feeling achy and weighed down. Opening her eyes was an effort—like when you dream and need to wake up but can’t. Something was strapped to her face and her chest felt like the air had been knocked out of her by the NFL’s best lineman.
She ached. God, she ached.
The sheets were scratchy against her skin—a totally irrelevant thought, but her eyes snapped open as that piece of information processed.
It took her a minute to focus. Disoriented, she turned left and then right, seeing nothing but white and tubes.
Hospital.
Fear seized her, crawling across her skin like fire to dry tinder.
Her mother. Hospitals. Death. Slow. Painful.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. How had she gotten here? Where was here? She had no memory, nothing coming to mind except how crappy she’d felt on the plane.
She lifted her hands to feel her face, tearing at the oxygen tube in her nose, hissing as the IV pulled from the movement. Even that movement exhausted her.
“Help me!” But her voice came out a croak that even she couldn’t hear.
She shivered against the fever, feeling hot and cold simultaneously.
The room was bathed in shadows and utterly empty. Night? Day?
Alone.
She tried to take a breath. It burned, tore at her throat. Thrashing in earnest, she tried to kick off the sheet, to sit up. She wasn’t going to die here.
Tears came in earnest now. Sobs mingled with wheezing. Frustration mounted. She couldn’t get the sheet loose.
Strong hands gripped her arms. “Leia baby, stop.”
Warm fingers clasped hers. His husky voice washed over her, stopping her. She groaned, falling back.
Zach.
“You’re not alone. I’m here,” he crooned. She couldn’t focus on him, couldn’t wipe her tears to see him, could only feel, could only silently beg for comfort, beg for the pain to go away.
He lifted her with gentle hands, shifting the sheet and reinserting the oxygen tube.
She cried out again, the hard plastic an irritant against her nose.
“Shh. Shh. You need it, honey. You can’t take it off.” He rubbed her arms, the touch more comforting than anything she’d felt in a long time. A layer of fear melted away.
“I hurt,” she tried to whisper.
Either he heard her or guessed what she said. “Pneumonia. Doc’s got antibiotics going, but you have to rest. You can’t move around like this.”
She gripped his hands, wanting, needing so much more, wantin
g to fold into him and never let go.
He read her mind. He settled on the edge of the bed and eased her up against his chest, against the beating of his heart and kissed the top of her head.
“Don’t want to die,” she wheezed out, clutching the hand across her belly.
He stiffened, and loosened his hold for a minute to pull back and look at her. Fierce blue eyes reprimanded her. “You aren’t going to die.” The stark emotion in his eyes settled the last of her panic.
“Feels like it,” she mouthed.
He sagged, pulling her close again. “I know, baby, but tough it out. Don’t quit on me.”
She’d worn herself out with all the moving around. Zach reached for the call button and rang the nurse. She stayed still, struggling to get a breath, clutching him like a teddy bear in a baby’s arms, so desperately glad he was holding her.
“You have to relax, Leia. You’re making it harder for your lungs. You’re all tensed up.”
“Don’t leave me, Zach.” Again she mouthed the words against his shirt, the black flannel comforting against her face. She only had a bare whisper voice.
“I haven’t left, Leia. I’ve been here. I’m sorry I went to get coffee. You weren’t alone five minutes. I’ve been waiting all night to see your pretty eyes.”
The nurse bustled into the room. Leia heard someone, but closed her eyes and nestled against Zach.
Seeing Zach again, talking with him, maybe coaxing him to kiss her again—all those things had been on her list, but not this. She didn’t want Zach here because he felt obligated to take care of her.
But she couldn’t force herself to whisper the words that would send him away. She needed him, needed somebody to give a damn, somebody who didn’t draw a paycheck from her, or expect an autograph, or want to steal her shoes just because she wore them.
Zach would help her. He wouldn’t let her down.
Before the nurse could do more than take her temperature, she fell back to sleep—the only way to cope with being so ill.
Leia’s cell phone kept chirping.
For the last two hours, it chirped every half hour. He ignored it for awhile because he didn’t want to move off Leia’s bed. Holding her while she slept allowed him to make sure she was breathing, and he wanted her warmth against him. He was tired, and truth be told worried. People died from pneumonia.
The phone chirped again, irritating his last nerve. The nurse had been in three times and scolded him about sitting on the bed with Leia in his arms and making a fuss about how he could use the cot next to the bed.
“She’ll sleep better if you lay her down,” she said the first two times she’d been in the room.
He’d glared and she’d gone away, probably not wanting to deal with the big, bad sheriff. Or at least he hoped so. Truth was Leia was sleeping fine in his arms, much less restless than she’d been during the night.
The cell chirped again.
He studied their position, the IV and oxygen lines, and moved slightly so he could ease Leia down on the mattress. She whimpered in the back of her throat, a pathetic sound that made him want to just screw answering the damn intrusive piece of plastic.
He stroked her hair, murmuring nonsense to her, and she settled. He slid off the bed and went to the closet, fishing in her jacket for her cell phone. He pulled up the missed calls and found a dozen from someone named Banning. Who was that?
Before he answered and started giving out information, he wanted to know who he was talking to. He slipped his cell phone off his belt and checked the time. Seven in the morning, but at least it wasn’t earlier. He dialed his daughter and waited for her to answer.
“Dad,” she answered groggily. “Leia okay?”
“Yeah, honey. Do you know who someone that’s calling Leia named Banning?” He couldn’t believe he was having to resort to asking his twelve-year-old daughter.
“Yeah, Dad. It’s her chief of security. Nice man.”
“You’ve met him? When?”
“Right after Leia moved into the house. He came and did a kick-ass security system for her. Or at least that’s what she said.” Carlee yawned. “Can I come see her?”
“Maybe later this afternoon. I’ll call you. Thanks kiddo.”
“Okay.” She hung up on a sigh.
Zach hit the redial on Leia’s phone and waited for the man to answer on the other end.
“Why did you not call me?” The man was furious. “I told you when I let you leave the plane to call me when you got there.”
Zach cleared his throat. “Zach Murphy here.”
Silence.
“Is Leia all right?”
For some reason, Zach was irrationally angry at all the people around her and unreasonably protective. Until he knew more from Leia about this Banning, he wasn’t saying anything that could end up in the tabloids or get used against her.
“She’s sick. Laryngitis,” he said, lowering his voice when Leia shifted in bed.
“Let me talk to her.” The command in his voice told Zach a lot about Banning and he settled a bit.
“A. She’s asleep. B. She has laryngitis and can’t talk. C. I’ll tell her you called. Good enough?” He wanted to ask why the hell the man hadn’t delivered her home last night, but he didn’t. He couldn’t be that presumptuous even if everything in him was screaming for him to be.
“You sure she’s okay?” Suspicion coated Banning’s question.
Zach looked over at Leia’s flushed face. “Yeah, I’m taking good care of her.”
He exchanged phone numbers with the man and hung up. Lying down on the cot after checking Leia again, he refused to contemplate the inherent possessiveness of that phrase.
Four days later she still felt like she’d been rolled down a cliff in a go cart. The only difference was she’d finally conquered the panic and had replaced it with irritability. She glanced out the window and watched the snow fall, big intricate flakes that had mounted to another eighteen inches and forced Zach to go back to work and pitch in with his deputies to handle the community.
“It’s your turn, Leia.”
She glanced at Carlee’s move on the Monopoly board. “Want me to roll for you?”
“Sure,” she croaked, disconcerted by the harsh whisper. She missed Zach. She felt connected, safe, cherished when he sat in the chair. Not that she didn’t appreciate Carlee. She did. She understood Zach’s responsibilities and Carlee volunteered to stay with her, too. What more could she ask for? To love them, to belong to them, to have them love her.
Carlee jiggled the dice and gave them a toss, rolling doubles. “Why is it I roll doubles for you?”
Considering that Carlee had a stack of money in front of her rivaling the bank down the street and Leia was almost bankrupt, doubles were really not a good thing.
She eyed the board as Carlee counted off the squares and desperately tried to quit feeling sorry for herself.
“Pacific with one hotel.” The girl really tried to contain her glee, but her eyes shown like the star on a Christmas tree.
“I concede,” she whispered, leaning back and closing her eyes, swamped in loneliness and desperate to be one place she couldn’t be right now—Zach’s arms.
Carlee gave in gracefully. “Don’t worry. I beat everybody. Except for Uncle Wyatt.” She cracked an eye and contemplated the consternation and utter frustration on the young girl’s face from that fact.
Wyatt had stayed with Leia last night. They’d played Monopoly to pass the time until Zach returned. He cheated. At least she was pretty sure he did, but Carlee wasn’t going to learn that fact from her. It would be far more beneficial for her to figure out how he was doing it on her own.
Carlee picked up the pieces, sorted the money, and meticulously put the game back in its box. When she’d first brought the game, she’d proudly shown Leia every piece of the Deluxe Collector’s edition—given to her by her mother for her birthday last year. Game cleaned up, she wandered to the window and watched the snow fall. “Mo
m is supposed to come in two weeks. Will the snow stop her?”
Leia shrugged and mouthed an answer at her. “Ask Dad.”
She screwed up her mouth in a mixture of exasperation and sadness. “He’ll just say what he always says. Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t.”
Her imitation was so Zach sounding, Leia smiled.
“Dad said he was going to sneak in some of Aunt Fiona’s chicken noodle soup for dinner. That is so good. I’m starving.”
Leia pointed at the Christmas cookies Zach had brought. “Have one. Hold you over.”
Carlee frowned at her attempt at spoken language, picked up a reindeer and bit off the reindeer’s antlers to express her displeasure.
Fiona had to have decorated them too. Frankly, she couldn’t see Zach having the patience to use three different colored frostings and sprinkles for the harness and reins.
Carlee fed her a tiny bite, but her appetite had yet to return and the sugar wasn’t as enticing as she hoped it would be. Would she ever be off the oxygen tube and get the all clear to go home?
Her cell phone chirped. Carlee grimaced and slid off the bed to check it. “Dad said not to answer it, but…” She looked at the display. “Banning.”
“Answer it,” she mouthed, levering herself into a better sitting position.
Carlee answered and identified herself. She listened for a minute. “She’s not supposed to talk.”
She listened again, then held the phone to her chest. “He says you can just listen to him.”
Leia rolled her eyes and put out her hand for the phone. She could croak enough to make herself understood.
She took the phone from Carlee, not letting her see how her hand was shaking from tiredness. “Hello,” she rasped.
“Where exactly are you and what is going on?” The man drew an audible breath of air. “Wait. Don’t talk.”
“Good.” She swallowed. “I. Can’t.” Those few words made her cough and she took a sip of water.
Carlee leaned in to take the phone and she shooed her away. Carlee glared at her and took another cookie, biting off the snowman’s head.
“Talk.” It came out less like a command than she’d hoped.
Pumpkins, Cowboys & Guitars Page 57
