Pain. In his head. His shoulder, his chest, his throat. He tried to make a sound, but nothing came out. Tried to move, but the weight held him captive. Too tired. He slipped into the fog, away from the pain.
Then he felt it.
Something soft, like spun silk, on his hand. An angel’s voice, whispering softly. He wanted to listen, just a little while. But the fog closed in, and there was nothing again.
He was having a wonderful dream. Jade was there. He couldn’t see her. It was dark. But he could smell her spicy scent. Feel her stroking his face. Hear her whispering.
The fog pulled at him. He didn’t want to leave the dream. Even though pain intruded. He wanted to see her. Why was it so dark? Why did everything hurt? He could tolerate the pain if he could just see her.
“Daniel, come back,” she whispered.
He tried so hard. But then he was sinking again. Back into the fog.
The pain was back. Stronger. His head hurt. What was wrong with him?
A hand clutched his, cool and firm.
“He moved! Allen, he moved!”
Daniel struggled to pry open his eyes. They seemed superglued together.
“Daniel,” Dad said. “Wake up.”
“Push the button.”
“Daniel. Come on, son.”
Daniel’s eyes fluttered open. He squinted against the bright lights. His head throbbed. His parents leaned over, clutching his arm, his hand.
Metal rails. Beeping. Sterile sheets.
Someone rushed into the room.
“He’s awake,” Mom told the nurse.
More people came. Uniforms. Why was he in the hospital? He thought back. Thanksgiving. Grandma’s table. Snow. Nothing else.
“What happened?” His voice was rusty.
“You had an accident.” Mom’s eyes were liquid blue. “You’re in the hospital. But you’re going to be okay now.”
How long, he wanted to ask. What happened? Where was his angel? But his mouth wouldn’t move, his limbs grew heavy, and he was drifting away again.
Jade stirred in her waiting room seat. Nurses rushed down the hall. A doctor turned into Daniel’s room. Her heart skipped a beat, then went right to double time.
She bolted to her feet. “What’s going on?”
Ryan and Mom stirred in their seats, but Jade was already past them. More staff scurried toward the room.
His parents were ushered into the hall. His mom’s hand covered her mouth. Her eyes shone with tears. Mr. Dawson pulled her into his arms.
Oh, God, no. Please. I’ll do anything. Anything.
Mr. Dawson’s eyes caught Jade’s. She begged him silently not to tell her what she couldn’t hear.
“He’s awake,” Mr. Dawson said.
“What?” Her feet froze in place. “Awake?”
Mr. Dawson smiled. “Awake.”
They wouldn’t let her in.
To be fair, they wouldn’t let anyone in. They’d been running tests for what seemed like hours, and Jade couldn’t sit still. Her wobbly legs ate up the short hallway. The rush of adrenaline had faded, leaving her shaky and exhausted.
But none of that mattered because Daniel was awake. He’d been alert and asking questions, they said. All good signs. She’d spent most of her pacing time thanking God for the good news.
Half of Chapel Springs seemed to be stuffed into the waiting room. Ryan had called the family, and everyone was here except PJ, who’d stayed with the twins. Jade was going to have to go home soon. Her breasts were engorged, but she needed to see Daniel.
Mr. Dawson was speaking with a doctor outside his door, and a moment later he and his wife were ushered into Daniel’s room. Jade had never been so jealous of anyone in her life.
She waited as long as she could, but as the day wore on, she had to slip out and feed the twins. PJ had held off on Mia’s bottle, and she was getting fussy.
She was slipping into her apartment when her mom called with good news. The CT and MRI looked good. Daniel’s cognitive function was normal. Mom and Dad were getting ready to see him. Jade itched to be there with them, but first, her babies needed her care.
After she fed each of them, she placed kisses on their sweet foreheads, a feeling of gratitude sweeping over her, making her eyes water. She had her girls, and Daniel was going to be okay. Her world was turning right side up again.
Thank You, God. Thank You so much. It wouldn’t always be this way. Sometimes things turned topsy-turvy. Sometimes everything changed for the worse in an instant. But this time it hadn’t, and she was so thankful her heart felt full to overflowing.
She had so much she wanted to tell Daniel. Maybe he wouldn’t even care now. Maybe he’d decided her world was too messy for him. Maybe he was done risking his heart for a broken girl. It had been over four weeks since they’d spoken. A lot had happened. Maybe she’d lost him for good.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
BY THE TIME JADE RETURNED TO THE HOSPITAL, THE WAITING room had cleared out. Daniel was sleeping, with strict orders to be left undisturbed. His parents left to get some rest after Jade promised them she would stay.
Hours went by.
Outside the window, twilight draped over the world like a gauzy blanket. Flurries fell and streetlights flickered on. She looked down the hall to Daniel’s closed door, impatience pecking her on the shoulder.
So many others had been in to see him, but she’d missed the window of opportunity. Had he wondered where she was? Did he think she didn’t care? That she’d just carried on while his life had hung in the balance?
She had to see him. Just for a few minutes. She wouldn’t disturb him. He needed rest, but she had to know he was okay. Had to see him with her own eyes.
She waited until the nurse at the station stepped away and sneaked down the hall, her heart bursting through her chest. She turned the knob and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind her.
The room was dim, the last of the day’s light seeping through the window. Get-well cards covered every flat surface. Monitors beeped. The blessed sound of Daniel’s breathing punctuated the silence.
She made her way to the semireclined bed. The bruising on his face had shifted toward yellow. The swelling was down, the abrasions healing. Someone had shaved his face. He looked more like her beautiful Daniel. His dark lashes fanned his cheeks. A tuft of hair had fallen over his forehead.
She reached out and brushed it back, loving the feel of it in her fingers. She watched his broad chest rise and fall, so grateful for this fundamental thing.
Unable to stop herself, she laid her hand on his, careful not to disturb him. His skin was warm, his familiar fingers thick and rough. Alive.
They would strum the guitar again. They would steeple under his chin. They would curl around a snowball, dribble a ball, tap out a text.
Would they palm her cheek? Thread through her hair? Catch a tear on her cheek?
She let go of his hand, sank into the chair, and leaned forward, resting her forehead on the cool rail. Stupid. She’d been so foolish to give him up. So afraid to love. She was still afraid. But nearly losing him had taught her something she would never forget. As afraid as she was of loving and losing, she was even more afraid of losing the chance to love him.
Maybe she’d already lost the chance.
The rhythm of the beeping changed. Jade raised her head. Blue eyes stared back. Her own heart skipped a beat. She looked into his eyes, unbelieving as he blinked twice.
Her hand tightened on the rail. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He wet his lips, his motions slow and deliberate. “Thought I was dreaming.” His voice sounded like sandpaper over gravel.
She grabbed his water jug, held the straw to his lips.
She watched as he drank, soaking him in. Watched him reach for the straw, watched his Adam’s apple bob with each swallow. The simplest movements, all so wonderful, so miraculous.
His head fell back against the pillow. “Thanks.”
She set the jug
on the table and regarded him again. Did he realize how bad it had been? How scared she’d been of losing him? How scared they’d all been?
“You had us worried there for a while, Mr. Mayor.”
“I heard.”
She didn’t want to talk about his brush with death. He was alive, his mesmerizing gaze fixed on her. “The waiting room was a zoo. The entire fire department was here, half the church. Heck, half the town. I think they all sent flowers. Your grandma’s keeping them at her place.”
“I’ll open a nursery when they let me out of here.”
She gave a wry grin. “You couldn’t keep a weed alive.”
He smiled. “You know me too well.”
She did, didn’t she? Knew him and loved him. Loved everything about him. The way he was quiet and introspective, almost introverted. Yet could hold his own in interviews and captivate an audience with an off-the-cuff speech.
She cleared her throat. “Are you cold? You want another blanket?”
He shook his head, wincing at the motion.
“Do you need more meds?”
He shifted. “Maybe you could push that button.”
“This one?”
He nodded, and she dosed him with painkillers. “Help is on the way.” She hated that he was in pain. She shouldn’t have come in and disturbed him when he was resting peacefully.
“Where are my parents?”
“Getting some rest. They’ve hardly left your side.”
He gave a slow blink. He was sleepy. He needed rest more than he needed to hear what she had to say.
“I’ll leave you alone so you can get some sleep.” She stood, squeezing his hand.
He tightened his hold, surprisingly strong. “Why are you here, Jade?”
She stopped, meeting his gaze. Did he want the simple answer or the complex one? Her thoughts teetered and settled somewhere in the middle. “Where else would I be?”
“Home with the girls.” His eyes bore into hers, steady and true. Questioning.
Complex it is, then.
She stepped close to the bed, her heart in her throat, her hand suddenly trembling. Her fingers itched to twist her rings, but he’d captured her hand, and she wasn’t willing to give up his touch.
“You want to talk about this now?”
“If it’ll keep you in my room.”
That was good, right? He wanted her here. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he’d give her another chance. The thought—love, marriage, a lifetime—dangled in front of her, endlessly enticing, just out of reach.
Or maybe he was only lonely for company, no matter who.
He squeezed her hand. “What’s going on behind those green eyes?”
“So much.”
“Tell me.”
It was time to be brave. Time to put words to her feelings. Where to start? Thoughts tumbled around. The last four weeks, the last few days. Unending days. An emotional roller coaster. Just thinking of all the hills and valleys made her head spin.
There was only one place she could start. The place that mattered. The place that had changed everything.
She closed the gap between them, her eyes not leaving him, her heart in her throat. “I love you, Daniel.”
His eyes flickered with surprise. Something else. It slowly faded away as his eyes narrowed. He held her gaze for a long moment, then his eyes went as flat as pool water. He looked away.
Her stomach dropped to the sterile floor, taking hope with it. She had to do something. Say something. Quick.
“I—when you told me—when I found out you loved me, I—” She swallowed hard. “It scared me. Losing Aaron did something to me . . .”
“I know.”
But he didn’t. He didn’t know. “Having you love me scared me to death. I don’t know if I can explain it or make you understand how scary love is for me. After I lost Aaron, I just—” She shook her head. “I lived in fear of losing someone I loved again. Of loving like that again.”
“I get it, Jade.”
“You don’t.”
He turned his head on the pillow, looking at her. She read the anguish in his eyes, and it gave her the courage to rush on.
“You don’t get it. It wasn’t just you loving me that scared me. It was me loving you.”
Something shifted in his eyes. Did he understand now? That she didn’t just love him. She loved him.
“Then you had this accident, and I thought I was going to lose you, just like I lost Aaron. And all I could think about was . . . I never even told you I love you.”
Something flared in his eyes. Confusion. Questions. Hope. “You love me.”
She’d always loved him. He knew that. There was a difference now, a big one.
She came closer until her thighs pressed against the bed. A dozen birds flapped inside her chest, beating to escape. Her palms dampened, her face flushed.
She spoke past the ache in her throat. “I’m in love with you, Daniel. I don’t know when it happened, but I realized it that night you came over, the night I gave your ring back. It scared me to death.” She blinked away the tears in her eyes. “And I—I thought giving you up would be easier than—”
“You’re in love with me.”
“I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I was hurting too, and missing you so much. But I didn’t realize until I almost lost you for good that loving you is worth the risk. That I had to tell you. And I was so afraid I’d never have the chance.
“But I’m trying to walk by faith now, no matter how scary it is.” A tear fell. She caught her trembling lip between her teeth. “God brought me you, and I gave you up. And I’m still so afraid. Heck, I’m scared to death right now that you’re going to tell me it’s too late. That you don’t love me anymore and that I—”
He reached up, placed his finger over her lips. “Shhh.”
His face blurred. She blinked and her vision cleared. His thumb followed the curve of her lower lip before falling back to the bed as if weighted.
“Not too late,” he whispered. His eyes, liquid blue, held hers.
Her heart did a slow roll. “It’s not?”
His gaze was steadfast. “I love you, Jade. I have for a long time, and I’m sure not going to stop now.”
She let that soak in. Let the love in his eyes soak in good and deep. All the way to the roots. He still loved her. He was giving her another chance. She could do this. She could find the courage to love him, one day at a time. With a man like Daniel loving her, she’d be crazy not to.
Because she loved him so much. Because she dreamed of a lifetime with him, but would settle for however long she got and trust God with the rest.
“I have a head injury.”
His strange words pulled her from her thoughts. That last shot of morphine must’ve kicked in. “What?”
“A moment like this . . . it kind of calls for a romantic kiss, you know? I’m weighted to this bed, and my girl won’t lean over and make it happen.”
She gave a watery laugh. His girl. She liked the sound of that. Liked it a lot. So much that she leaned over and touched her lips to his.
He took over from there, brushing her lips softly. He found the strength to brush her hair back, weaving his fingers into it. Everything around them disappeared, dwindled down to the two of them.
Jade set her palm gently on his clean-shaven face, loving the feel of his lips on hers, tasting, coaxing. She’d missed this so much. Missed him. She’d never get enough, if they had ten lifetimes together.
When they were both breathless, she set her forehead against his.
His eyes fell shut. “Listen.” The rapid beeping of the heart monitor betrayed his reaction to the kiss. “See what you do to me?”
She took his hand and brought it to her own thumping heart. “Me too.”
He sighed softly, his warm breath tickling her lips.
He opened his eyes. “The nurses are going to run in here thinking I’m having a coronary.”
“You’d better settle down, t
hen. ’Cause I kind of sneaked in here.”
He smiled. “That’s my girl.” He gave a slow blink, then another, his eyes sticking for a second longer.
She kissed his forehead and straightened. “I should let you rest.”
His eyes fluttered shut and stayed. “Go home, get some sleep,” he mumbled.
“When your parents get back,” she said, but he was already drifting away.
He didn’t stir when she brushed the hair from his forehead. She’d leave in a minute. She just wanted to look at him awhile. Let it sink in that he was hers and she was his. That she’d found love despite her efforts to avoid it. That she’d found a man who was worth the risk. That he loved her, had waited for her. Not for weeks or months but for years.
She let her eyes roam over his beautiful, familiar face. His long lashes, his stately nose, his lips, slackening now in sleep. He was breathing easily, sleeping deeply. She looked at the door, considering, then settled into the chair instead. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not for a long time.
EPILOGUE
“MMMMM, THIS CAKE IS SO GOOD,” JADE SAID.
Beside her on the sofa, Madison cradled Mia on her lap. “Well, you nixed the four-course meal. She had no choice but to pour her heart into the cake.”
PJ had spent her Christmas break designing and creating an amazing two-tiered white almond wedding cake.
A flash went off as Mom took another photo. The McKinley home swarmed with family and close friends. White Christmas lights and flickering candlelight warmed the home. The mantel was decked out with stockings and a sprawling garland. An eight-foot spruce crowded the alcove by the staircase.
The Christmas Eve wedding had been perfect. A simple candlelit service at church. Romantic, quiet, and unforgettable. She’d never forget the look in Daniel’s eyes as he recited his vows. So full of love and conviction. She tucked the memory away in her heart to revisit later. Since they’d arrived at the farmhouse, Daniel had caught her under the mistletoe twice. The first kiss, just a brush. The second, a lingering kiss that had made her eager for the night ahead.
Dancing with Fireflies Page 26
