“Ethan?” She cupped her hands to her face. “Molly! Cole!”
She listened and then crossed the old pony corral and let herself out into the ten acres of timber, watching for any sign of movement.
Worry began to grip her heart in a tight vise. Ethan had been a soldier for thirteen years. How could he get lost in a ten-acre wooded pasture? How could they all be missing?
She called out to them again. This time she heard Molly’s faint response and she hurried in that direction, thankful she’d thought to stuff her cell phone in a jacket pocket in case she had to call for help.
Over the next rise she gasped in relief. Molly and Cole were trudging toward her, struggling to make it through the deep snow. They both looked exhausted.
She enveloped both of them in a group hug. “I was so worried about you two. Where have you been—and where is Ethan?”
Molly’s lower lip trembled. “We don’t know. We were hunting for a tree and suddenly he was gone. We called and called and tried to find him, but then it was getting dark and we had to try to get h-home. What if something got him—like a bear?” She cast a fearful look over her shoulder. “What if it’s still out there and it’s coming af-after us?”
Hannah brushed a kiss against her forehead. “There definitely are bears in Wisconsin, but I haven’t ever seen one on my property, and there haven’t been any reported in this area for years.”
She called Ethan’s name several times. “You know what? I’m going to get you two up to the house and then I’ll come back out and try to find him. Okay?”
Panicked, Cole gripped her arm. “No—I don’t want you to. Please don’t leave us there!”
“Don’t worry, sweetie. It’ll be fine.” She gave him another hug then moved a few steps away and yelled Ethan’s name again.
A shadow stumbled through the trees, too indistinct to make out for sure, but she held her breath, praying it was him. If it wasn’t, how could she ever find him in the dark?
He drew closer and she blew out a breath in relief. “Thank goodness, Ethan. We were so worried! Where have you been?”
“I...don’t know.” His words were strangely slow and measured, as if he had to think about each one. He was limping badly.
In the dim light his face was oddly dark on one side. But it wasn’t until she’d hurried to his side that she realized what it was. Blood, still dripping from a gash hidden somewhere in his hair.
“Come on, kids, we’re going for a ride.” She hooked her arm under his and walked him slowly into the house to grab her purse, then pulled her car keys from her pocket and loaded everyone into her car. “ER, here we come.”
* * *
Ethan leaned against the headrest, his eyes closed.
He’d heard Hannah call the ER on the drive into town. He’d started to protest and then had lost his train of thought.
But now they were suddenly at the hospital and she’d pulled up under the overhang at the ER entrance. A nurse pushing a wheelchair barreled out of the automatic glass doors and she was bearing down on his side of the car.
His fuzzy thoughts began to clear as his alarm grew.
“Wait—I don’t need to be here,” he protested as the nurse wrenched open his door and reached for his seat belt buckle.
Hannah rounded the front of her vehicle and took his arm. “Maybe not, but do me a favor and let Ann take you inside. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit—you might need a couple of sutures.”
Sutures. He could handle that. He awkwardly transferred into the wheelchair, wincing at the stab of pain in his knee as he pivoted.
Hannah bent into his field of vision and took his good hand in hers. “Ethan, I need to take the kids over to Keeley’s house, but I’ll be right back. Ann is a great nurse and Sophie’s husband, Dr. McLaren, is here, so they’ll start checking you out, okay?”
She straightened, turned away from him and lowered her voice. “He was disoriented when I found him, and seemed unusually drowsy on the way here. He’s a soldier on medical leave...with a history of TBI. Recently discharged from Walter Reed.”
Ethan looked back at the Subaru, where Molly’s pale, frightened face was pressed against the back window. His thoughts snapped into crystal-clear focus.
He started to get out of the wheelchair. “I just need to get back to my cabin. A little sleep and I’ll be fine.”
“Not the best idea, sir. Not with a head injury.” The nurse pressed him gently back down and wheeled him through the glass doors into the blinding light of the ER, and on to an exam room where a man was already waiting.
“I’m Dr. McLaren,” he said crisply. “I hear you’ve had an adventure tonight.”
“I took my niece and nephew out into Hannah’s timber to look for a Christmas tree. I slipped in the snow and fell. Nothing more than that.”
“Did you ever agree on one?” The doc’s mouth quirked into a brief smile. “My family never does. I finally learned it involves a lot less mileage to check out the Christmas tree lots instead of tramping through Hannah’s woods with a saw.”
Ethan laughed at that, which made his head start to pound. “I’m sure coming here was just a waste of your time.”
“We still want to have a look. Ann is going to take your history and get that laceration cleaned up so we can take a better look. In the meantime, I need to check on another patient here in the ER, but I’ll be back shortly.”
The nurse returned with a laptop computer on a rolling stand, helped him up on a gurney and cleaned up his face with deft, gentle fingers. She applied a dressing and then began peppering him with questions about his medical history and medications, her fingers flying over the keys with every answer.
Next she began a lengthy assessment of his orientation, motor response and balance, an all-too familiar litany of procedures that he’d been through more times than he could count.
“Well, sir,” she concluded with a warm smile, “the doctor is busy with something right now, but he should be with you shortly. Hannah’s friend lives close by, so I’m sure she will be back soon.”
After pointing out the call light and handing him a TV remote—not a good sign regarding how long he might have to wait—she disappeared.
Hannah appeared at the side of his gurney. “You’ve been asleep,” she murmured. “How are you feeling? A little dizzy?”
Asleep? He glanced up at the large clock on the wall, though now he wasn’t sure about the time he’d arrived. With Hannah hovering over him like a worried hen, he wasn’t going to ask.
Footsteps entered the room and now Dr. McLaren was on the other side of the gurney flipping through several pages on a clipboard. “So, tell me your name.”
He rolled his eyes, though he knew it would be faster to just go along. “Ethan Williams. It’s December second, and I’m here because of a minor thump on the head. And...I’m fine.”
“I see that you’re on no meds. No chronic diseases. Blood pressure, temp and pulse are fine. You’ve been through quite a bit, though.” McLaren studied Ethan’s prosthetic hand. “Amazing what they can do these days. How are you doing with this?”
“Well enough. Though my niece Molly might beg to differ. She asked me to re-braid her hair after I brought her and Cole to Hannah’s after school. I couldn’t do it without the tactile sense for managing something so fine and slippery.”
“You could in time—it’s just another new skill to work on.” He looked down at the clipboard. “So...about your head. You said you didn’t lose consciousness after your fall—at least that you were aware of. Right?”
Ethan nodded.
“Good. Your Glasgow score was 15 when you first arrived, and also ten minutes ago. Since 15 is normal and 3 is dead, you’re at the best end of the spectrum there.” McLaren studied him over the top rim of his glasses. “While you’ve been
waiting here, have you had any bouts of confusion? Disorientation? Nausea?”
Ethan shook his head.
“You were a little foggy when you arrived—you didn’t respond to several questions and appeared to be hypersensitive to the lights. That’s not surprising with a mild concussion. But as far as tests go, an X-ray wouldn’t be of benefit with minor head trauma.”
“So I’m done here?”
“At this point, your assessment results don’t indicate a need for a CT scan, either. But given your history of a blast-related TBI, I want to keep you overnight for observation. I also need to do a little suturing, and then we can move you into one of the hospital rooms just down the hall.”
After the doctor left the room, Hannah stepped back to his side. “I’m so sorry. I feel responsible for this. If I hadn’t mentioned finding a Christmas tree, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“If I’d been more careful, it wouldn’t have happened,” he retorted. “I’m just sorry the kids didn’t find their tree.”
“No matter. What really matters is that you’re all right.” She smiled down at him but her eyes were filled with concern. “I need to pick up Molly and Cole, then I want to slip into the back of the church for the last part of the Advent service if we can. Afterward I’ll need to get them home for bed, but the staff here knows they can call me at any time.”
She put his cell phone on his bedside table. “And here is your cell, if you need to reach me.”
Staring at the stark, white walls of the exam room, he realized that as soon as she left, he was going to miss her. A lot.
“I’ll be back in the morning as soon as I drop the kids off at school,” she continued. “Don’t give the staff any trouble, okay? If the docs decide you do need a CT or something, don’t give them any grief. Both Dr. McLaren and Dr. Talbot are excellent physicians and they know what they’re doing.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
Her eyes sparkled with sudden humor. “I’m sure you will be. I’ll hear about it if you’re any trouble.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Hesitated, then gave him another kiss that brushed his mouth and lingered, sending a dizzying rush of warmth straight to his heart.
Then she was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
What in the world had she been thinking? Hannah tightened her grip on the steering wheel, thankful for the darkness that hid the deep blush burning its way up her cheeks from the kids sitting in the backseat.
She’d kissed him. Despite knowing full well that he was a heartbreaker. The kind of guy who didn’t stay around. And it hadn’t been just the light, good-luck kiss of an acquaintance, either.
She’d done it at the hospital, where any passer-by might have seen her, taken note, and then happily shared the observation at the coffee shop tomorrow morning, which would then set the rumor mill on fire.
That, she could handle with an offhand dismissal and a shrug. Eventually.
But far worse, she’d crossed an invisible boundary between Ethan and herself. One that had placed any romantic feelings between them squarely in the past.
And in doing so she’d stirred up the old emotions that she’d been denying since the day he arrived.
He wasn’t just a threat to the secure, permanent home she longed to provide for the children. He was also a threat to her heart.
But he was here because of the children. Not her. And in a few weeks he would be gone. She’d best not forget that.
Hannah drove up the snowy side streets toward the Aspen Creek Community Church perched on a hill overlooking the town. High snowbanks left by the snowplows at the street intersections made each one an adventure, when she could only ease forward and hope no one else was coming.
“I never seen snow like this at home,” Cole said from the backseat. “When can we go sledding?”
“Tomorrow,” Hannah promised as she pulled into a parking spot at the far end of the church parking lot. “But only if we have time after choosing our Christmas tree.”
“We’ll be fast. I promise. Maybe we can go find one tonight and then go sliding right after school?”
Hannah chuckled. “It’s already dark out. Too late. But we’ll make sure you have plenty of time tomorrow.”
She led the kids across the parking lot to the steps leading up to the church, struck as always by the simple beauty of its tall, old-fashioned white spire reaching toward the sky.
The welcoming light from within shone through the stained glass of the dozen tall, arched windows that marched down each side of the building. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked. “I always feel as if I’ve just come home.”
Even with the strains of “Joy to the World” floating from within, Molly lagged behind, the grim set of her mouth more suited to the gallows than a lovely old church.
Inside, Hannah collected a bulletin from an usher and led the way to a back pew. They’d arrived too late for the brief Advent sermon and most of the service, except for a soloist and one more hymn, but the dimmed lights and the candles glowing at the front of the church still filled her with a familiar sense of peace.
She glanced at Molly’s stony expression and closed her eyes. Please, Lord, help me reach this child. Her burdens are so heavy right now. I can’t even imagine her sense of grief and loss, and I only want to do what’s right for her and her brother. Please.
Pastor Mark stepped out in front of the altar. “Welcome to our visitors and members. We hope you’ll join us downstairs after every service for refreshments and the chance to get to know each other better. Blessings and peace to you all, now and always.”
He moved back to his seat behind the pulpit and a haunting a cappella, crystalline voice rose from the choir balcony. “Mary, did you know, that your baby boy...”
A complete hush fell over the congregation. Not so much as a paper bulletin rustled.
Except for the smallest, muffled sob next to Hannah. Molly, her face crumpled with raw grief, tears streaming down her face.
Tears filled Hannah’s eyes as she pulled the child into her arms and held her close, rocking her as she would a baby as Molly’s tears fell and her shoulders shook with her silent sobs.
Cole edged closer, his heartbroken gaze pinned on his sister. Hannah shifted and slid an arm around his narrow shoulders, too.
“This was Momma’s favorite song,” he whispered sadly. “She always sang it to us at Christmas. Then she kissed us and said we were her babies, and she loved us more than the whole world. Only she can’t do it anymore.”
His words felt like a blow to Hannah’s heart. “A mother loves her babies forever and ever, honey,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head. “When you hear that song, think of her singing to you from heaven.”
The soloist finished and the pastor led the congregation in prayer. Then the organist started a prelude to “O Holy Night” and everyone stood for the final hymn.
Molly’s tears faded to hiccups and she started to pull away, but Hannah gave her an extra squeeze before letting her go. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Molly rubbed at her face with her hands and looked away.
“I know this has been hard—terribly hard,” Hannah whispered. “But I promise you that things will get better. It just takes a lot of time.”
Molly didn’t answer.
“We can just go home or we could slip into the bathroom downstairs right now and let you wash your face. Then we could stay a little while,” Hannah coaxed, hoping her plan wasn’t a big mistake. “There’ll be all sorts of Christmas cookies and treats down there, with cocoa and punch. Would you mind—for just a few minutes? It might be fun.”
Somber now, Cole nodded.
Molly heaved a deep, resigned sigh.
With another verse of the hymn left, Hannah slipped out of th
e pew, led them downstairs and waited while Molly went into the bathroom to wash away her tears.
The congregation was pouring down the stairs when Molly came out and moved to Hannah’s side. “Let’s get in line, so you can pick out some cookies, okay?”
Molly shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
At Cole’s pleading look, Hannah tipped her head toward one of the tables. “Cole wants something. If you want to wait right there, we’ll join you in a minute.”
A vaguely familiar girl looked at Molly from across the room then turned to grab the arm of a younger girl standing next to her and they both came over. “I’m Faith. Remember, from the carriage ride? This is my cousin Joanie.”
The younger girl’s cheeks reddened.
“She’s kinda shy,” Faith added diffidently. “She’s in sixth grade, like you, but she’s been home sick from school this week so you haven’t seen her yet.”
“I’m better now,” Joanie said with a tentative smile. “Faith says we might be in the same classes.”
Another cluster of people came down the stairs and got in line for refreshments, including a tall, remarkably good-looking boy standing with his parents. Lawyers in town, Molly remembered after a moment’s thought.
The boy surveyed the room with a bored expression until his gaze landed on Molly. He brightened and strolled across the floor to her side.
Faith and Joanie stared in awe, their eyes shifting between Molly and the newcomer.
“Hey, Molly,” he said. “I didn’t know you belong to our church.”
“Hey, Trevor.” Molly shuffled her feet, a faint pink blush blooming in her cheeks. “My aunt does. So I guess my brother and I will, too.”
“Cool. So, are you joining the youth group?”
“I...um...I don’t know.” Molly gave Hannah a swift, questioning look.
“You can if you want to.” Hannah smiled. “I keep reading in the church bulletin about all the things they do, so I’m sure it would be a lot of fun.”
“We do good stuff, too. Like helping at the nursing home or reading to little kids.”
An Aspen Creek Christmas Page 14
