by Tori Scott
Lean On Me
By
Tori Scott
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Copyright 2003 Pamela Payne
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Acknowledgements
This book is dedicated to the men and women who leave homes and families to defend their country and champion freedom across the globe. You have our everlasting gratitude and we pray for your safety.
And to my own loved ones, thank you for being the wonderful kids and husband that you are. You are my inspiration.
LEAN ON ME
CHAPTER ONE
"Hurry, Mommy. I wanna ride before it gets dark!" Melanie stomped her small foot and stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.
“Calm down, honey. It won't be dark for a while yet. You have plenty of time." Sandy Morrow brushed her daughter’s blonde curls back from her forehead and relished the feel of the soft strands against her palm. God, she loved her little girl. A tomboy with a pixie face, Mel was a constant whirlwind of activity who tackled every task with a single-minded determination Sandy wished she could tap into for herself. She was also stubborn and hard-headed on occasion, and Sandy knew she let her get away with it too often.
Melanie looked forward every evening to getting on her tricycle, a "berfday" gift from her Uncle Ryan, and setting off on new adventures, usually with her best friend, Jenny, in tow. But Jenny was on vacation this week, so Melanie had been at loose ends and more demanding of Sandy’s time and attention than usual.
While her four-year-old chatterbox kept up the running demands to go outside, Sandy changed from her navy-blue pinstriped jumpsuit into a pair of well-worn denim cutoffs and a bright red tank top with a big yellow smiley-face on the front. She took her long hair down from its French twist and immediately felt her headache ease. She left her feet bare because she hated wearing shoes unless it was absolutely necessary.
In the kitchen, she filled a glass with sweet iced tea while Melanie tugged on her shirt as she hopped impatiently from one foot to the other. Sandy sighed and left the kitchen, crossed the short hall that led to the foyer, and opened the front door. As soon as she stepped outside, her daughter dashed out behind her, slamming the door in her impatience. Sandy winced and rubbed her forehead.
Melanie ran for her tricycle as Sandy settled into the swing on the wide front porch. "No farther than Jenny's house, then right back, understand?" Melanie waved without turning around and continued down the sidewalk.
A door slammed next door and a booming male voice yelled, "Jason, get in here right now!"
Oh, Lord, please. Not again. Since they'd moved in two weeks ago, the Thurmans had fought constantly. Screaming and yelling seemed to be their only method of communication, with slamming doors and rattling windows added for emphasis. Not once had Sandy heard them use a normal tone of voice.
All she wanted when she got home from work was a tall, cold glass of tea, the peaceful rocking of the old front porch swing, and time with her daughter. A few minutes to relax wasn't too much to ask, was it? Why couldn't the Thurmans have chosen somewhere else to live? Their constant fights made her stomach churn.
The Thurmans didn't belong in her quiet, family neighborhood. The streets were laid out so that most of them were dead-end, making traffic slow and sparse. It was a safe haven for the kids, a place to ride their bikes and skateboards, or to play soccer in the street. Now they had a teenager--an angry teenager with a drivers license--to watch out for.
Finally, after another door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows, the noise abated next door and Sandy breathed deeply as her taut muscles began to relax. She let one bare foot drop to the floor, pushing the swing in a soothing rhythm. Her eyes drifted closed. Just for a minute.
The front screen slammed next door, the loud snap jolting her upright. She glanced over to see Hunter Thurman, hands fisted in his front pockets, jaw tightly clenched. He didn't seem to notice anything around him as he glared at his porch floor.
When she'd first met him, Sandy was instantly attracted. It should be a sin for a man to look that good. He was tall and powerfully built, with thick black hair and chiseled features. He carried himself with the grace of an athlete and the perfect posture of a soldier. He'd greeted her with a wonderful little-boy smile, full of mischief, that crinkled his eyes and made her breath catch. Just shaking his hand had made her heart race.
Today he was wearing soft, form-fitting jeans and a green chambray shirt. She'd bet the jewel tone of the shirt brought out the depth of color in his hazel eyes. Eyes that made her think of moonlight and kisses, soft sheets and tangled limbs. Things she, as a single mother with responsibilities, shouldn't be thinking about. Melanie demanded most of her time and attention. Her job as a childcare director consumed the rest.
Hunter did have one major drawback--a sixteen-year-old son. Jason was rude, obnoxious, and rebellious. And so angry.
At that moment, Hunter looked up and caught her staring. Her heart tripped double time when his mouth tilted up on the right in a wry smile. Embarrassed at being caught, she nodded, then looked away.
That is one pretty lady. Hunter admired the long legs stretched across the porch swing. He'd tried to think of an excuse to get to know his neighbor better, but so far hadn't come up with anything more original than borrowing a cup of sugar. Since he'd discarded that idea and gone to the store instead, he'd done nothing more than wave at her a time or two when they crossed paths. Except for the day he'd moved in. She'd appeared on his doorstep bearing a gift of chocolate-chip cookies. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had fresh, homemade cookies, still warm from the oven. Even Jason had stopped his arguing long enough to eat a few.
Hunter had thought about her a lot since that first day, late at night when Jason finally settled down to sleep and the house was quiet. He longed for someone to talk to, someone to share his problems with. But until Jason was grown and on his own, he didn't see any way it could happen.
For now, he and Jason had a problem to resolve, and it wasn't going to fix itself.
When Hunter squared his shoulders and went back inside, Sandy shifted her attention back to Melanie and watched as she raced down the tree-lined street to Jenny's driveway, then back again, as fast as her short little legs could pedal. When she reached the driveway, she waved, the tricycle wavering slightly as she tried to steer one-handed.
"Be careful, Melanie."
"Okay, Mommy,"
Sandy let her eyes drift closed again after checking to see that Melanie was still on the sidewalk, racing back again from Jenny's house. The sweet scent of roses drifted from well-maintained yards, lulling her into daydreams of being a stay-at-home mom. She'd love to spend her days exactly like this.
Sandy's eyes jerked open and her feet hit the floor at the sudden explosion of noise from the house next door.
"Where do you get off telling me what to do? You're a jackass, and I don't give a damn if you call yourself my father! You gave up any right to boss me around when you left me with Mom so you could go play soldier!" Jason screamed from the porch only forty feet away.
"Like it or not, I am your father and you'll do what I tell you. You will take those damned rings out of your nose and eyebrows and get your hair cut, right now."
"Yeah, and what if I don't? What're you gonna do, beat me? Lock me in my room? You can't to
uch me, and you know it. I'll have the cops out here so fast you won't know what happened."
Sandy looked across the yard and saw Hunter standing with his fists clenched and his face contorted in fury. If looks could kill...well, suffice it to say his son's days would be numbered.
There was such a contrast between those two, it was hard to believe they were related. Where Hunter was graceful, Jason was awkward, not having quite grown into his gangly body. Hunter had a deep golden tan, even before the start of summer. Jason's skin was pasty white from too many months indoors, and his face was splotched with acne. Hunter wore his hair short, almost military in style. Jason's was long and somewhat stringy, reaching almost to his shoulders.
She shook her head and looked away, feeling like an intruder even though she was on her own property. Their fight was none of her business. But it was so hard to listen to. After the way she’d fought her father at every turn, it was hard to witness someone else’s family struggles.
When the door to the Thurman's Tahoe slammed and the engine turned over with a roar, Sandy jumped to her feet and looked for Melanie. Oh God, there she was, barreling down the sidewalk toward home, head lowered as she concentrated on her pedals. Sandy screamed as the truck lurched backward down the driveway.
***
She’d never forget the sounds. The squeal of tires, the thud of impact, the harsh clang of her daughter’s tricycle as it landed in the street. Melanie's scream of terror, the haunting silence that followed. Her next-door neighbor's booted feet flying down the driveway, curses blistering the air. Her own scream, and the quieter footfalls of her bare feet on the grass. The teenaged driver alternately crying, praying, and swearing.
Those snippets of time would be imbedded in Sandy’s memory forever.
Hunter reached Melanie first. He checked her pulse, his big hand dwarfing Mel’s tiny arm. When he glanced over his shoulder and saw Sandy, he tried to smile reassuringly, but his brow was etched with worry. "Her pulse is weak, but it's there. Her breathing's shallow." The words, spoken quietly, gave her hope. Her daughter was still alive. He had just begun to check her pupils when Sandy yanked him back.
"Get out of my way!" She grabbed his shirt and pulled as she dropped to her knees beside her daughter. "Melanie, can you hear me? Baby, Mommy's here. You're going to be okay. You...you have to be." A sob echoed in the silence, but it was her own. There was no response from Mel.
This was her worst nightmare. As hard as she’d tried to keep her daughter safe, she'd failed. Why hadn't she made her wear a helmet? Why hadn't she taken Melanie to the park to ride, away from traffic? Why had she let her brother Ryan give her daughter the damned tricycle in the first place?
Sandy checked carefully for signs of bleeding and broken bones. Melanie’s leg was obviously broken, twisted at an odd angle. As a child care director, Sandy received basic first aid training every year, but at this moment she wished she knew more about emergency care. Melanie was breathing, her heart was beating, but she was so still and quiet.
How could she live without her baby girl? No, quit thinking like that. She'll be okay. God wouldn’t let her baby die.
"Jason, call 911. Then get me a couple of blankets. Now!" For once Jason did as he was told without argument. Hunter turned back to Sandy. Other than the tears flowing down her cheeks and onto her daughter's pink and white striped T-shirt, she was efficient and extremely gentle as she checked her daughter over. Once again, he knelt beside her, ignoring the neighbors who were beginning to fill the street.
"I am so sorry. I had no idea he had my car keys. I would never let him have them when he was so angry..." He faltered at the anguish in her eyes.
"Please, just leave us alone. You’ve done quite enough already." Her voice caught, tears choking her words to a pleading whisper.
Knowing there was nothing else he could do for the moment, Hunter retreated and watched as she stroked her daughter's face.
Sirens wailed in the distance as Jason ran out of the house with the blankets in his arms and tears dripping off his chin. He handed them to Hunter, then knelt on the other side of Sandy. His voice quavered as he said, "She's going to be all right, isn't she? I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't see her."
Sandy didn’t seem to hear his words or notice the distraught boy beside her. Her attention was completely focused on her daughter. As angry as Hunter was with his son for his irresponsible act, he also felt sorry for him. He carefully covered the little girl with a blanket, then laid a hand on Jason's arm to stem the flow of words. "Son, leave her alone. She can’t deal with you right now."
Jason nodded glumly and moved back, sinking to the curb with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking with his sobs. Hunter dropped to the grass beside him, torn between wanting to shake him senseless and wanting to cuddle him as he had when he was little.
The arrival of the ambulance, followed by the police, pushed Hunter and Jason further into the background as the paramedics began their initial assessment and Sandy listened carefully to everything they said--to her, to each other, and to the hospital over the radio. "Ma'am?" one of the paramedics turned to Sandy. "Has she been conscious at all since the accident?"
“No," Sandy told her. "Not at all."
"Did she stop breathing at any point, even for a minute?"
When Sandy hesitated, Hunter spoke up. "I was the first one to get to her, and I checked for a pulse and then to see if she was breathing. She was."
"Okay, thanks." After more communication from the hospital, the paramedics began an IV, then secured Melanie to a backboard. They carefully lifted her into the ambulance and strapped her in, then invited Sandy to ride along to the hospital with them.
The officers tried to detain her with questions, but she waved them off and climbed into the back of the ambulance. The doors slammed, leaving Hunter and Jason to face the consequences.
***
Thirty minutes later, Hunter pushed through the glass doors of the emergency room, Jason on his heels. Antiseptic and floor cleaner, mixed with the coppery scent of blood, assaulted his senses as he strode to the admitting desk. A harried woman looked up from her computer and asked, "Can I help you?"
"My name's Hunter Thurman. I want to find out about Melanie Morrow's condition. She was brought in a few minutes ago." He glanced around the waiting room, looking for Sandy.
She typed the information into the computer. "The doctor's with her now. Are you her father?"
"No, a neighbor. How is she?" He needed to know. Right now.
"Well, since you're not family I really can't tell you much."
Hunter felt like his head was going to explode. He was used to instant obedience, instant access to whatever information he needed. Dealing with people rather than computers wasn’t one of his better skills. He took a deep breath to calm down. "Look, my son is the one who hit her." Hunter motioned toward Jason, who stood halfway across the room looking lost and miserable. He knew he sounded callous but didn’t take the time to make amends. "We need to know if she's going to be all right."
"I'm sorry.” She gave Jason a sympathetic look. “Let me go see what I can find out." As she disappeared down the hall, the outside doors swooshed open and two uniformed officers strolled in. One of them spotted Hunter and lifted a hand in greeting.
"How ya' doin' Hunter?" he asked as they shook hands. "I'm sorry about what happened. I got some of the info from the officers who took the call. How's the little girl?"
"We're trying to find out. I appreciate you coming down here, Bob. This is going to be hard enough, but I'm glad to have a friend on the police force right now."
Hunter turned around to look for his son. "Jason, come here," he called out, motioning for him to join them. "You remember Bob Watson, don't you son?"
Jason nodded and said, "Hi, Officer Watson."
Bob turned to Jason. "Boy, you and I just don't seem destined to meet under pleasant circumstances, do we? I was real sorry about your Mom. I
know you miss her."
Hunter stood back while his friend talked to Jason and noted his son's pallor and hang-dog look. At least he wasn't sulking or copping an attitude, like he usually did.
Bob turned back to Hunter and gestured to his partner. "This is Jerry Wilkins. You want to go get a cup of coffee and fill me in on the details?"
"Sure. Just as soon as I get some info on Melanie’s condition, we can go to the cafeteria."
The woman reappeared and sat behind the desk before she spoke to Hunter. "Sir, Mrs. Morrow said to tell you it looks like Melanie will survive. She has a broken leg, multiple contusions and abrasions, and a severe concussion. She still hasn’t regained consciousness, but the doctor thinks that’s temporary and related to the concussion."
Jason kept his eyes glued to the receptionist’s face as she spoke, and looked more and more miserable as she listed the injuries Melanie had suffered. Hunter placed a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed.
"Thank you very much for your help, ma’am. We'll be in the cafeteria if anyone needs us."
***
Sandy sat in a corner of the examining room, afraid to move or make any sound in case the doctor made her leave. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't stand to see her baby hurt. When Melanie whimpered and cried, sounding just like she had as an infant, it sent chills up her spine.
Melanie hadn't fully regained consciousness. The doctor was dealing with the broken leg and, judging from the frown on his face as he studied the x-rays, didn't like what he saw
The sights and smells and sounds of the emergency room were all too familiar, and they made her sick to her stomach. She fought the nausea, not wanting to leave the room for any reason. She forced herself to concentrate on the details to take her mind off her stomach.
