Helen brought their food, and without conscious thought of what she was doing, Gloria picked up the hamburger and began to eat. It was half consumed before she realized how hungry she was. She glanced at Jack, fully expecting to find him watching her with a taunting gleam in his eyes, but he was concentrating on his food. She glanced at the hands that held the sandwich. His fingers were long and slim and tipped with blunt, clean nails. A thin gold watch was nestled in the fine black hair on his wrist.
Jack looked up and met her gaze. “What are you thinking while those amber eyes are boring holes through me?” His voice was soft, without the slightest hint of sarcasm.
“What are you thinking?” she replied, unwilling to answer his question.
“I'm thinking you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.” His voice was lower than before and his eyes had darkened to a clear jade.
“Thank you.” She was flustered at this unexpected turn in the conversation, but absurdly pleased by his compliment.
They didn't speak again until they had finished their meal, then Jack said, “Ready?”
Gloria nodded. He went to the register and waited for Helen to finish pouring coffee for the cowboys. One of them spoke to him.
“How're ya doin', Jack?”
“Pretty good, Roy. You got them mangy old steer of yours ready for shipping?”
“Just about.”
The man cast admiring glances at Gloria, who was now standing beside the door. His look invited an introduction; Jack ignored it and turned his attention to digging bills out of his jeans pocket. The cowboy had a dark, weathered face, light-brown hair, and a long, slim body. His eyes were frankly admiring as they toured Gloria's trim figure. When she met his gaze, he smiled, and his face lit up with charm. He nodded to her and narrowed his eyes in a way that said he would like to know her, but she turned away.
Gloria climbed into the dusty pickup and wondered idly if comfortable cars were banned in this part of the country. Almost everyone drove either a pickup truck or some other type of four-wheel-drive equipment. After five years of riding in Lincolns and Cadillacs, it had taken her a while to get used to her small compact car, which was a luxury compared to this jolting truck.
They were headed down the highway toward the motel before Jack spoke.
“Roy considers himself God's gift to the ladies. You'd be smart to not encourage him.” He spoke softly, but his words were accompanied by a cool look.
“Is he married?”
“No. But he's on his fourth or fifth ‘live-in,’ as far as I know.”
“Does he own a big ranch?” Sensing his irritation, some little devil in Gloria prodded her to ask the question.
Jack's head swiveled around and he eyed her unsmilingly. “His pa owns the ranch. Roy'll have to share it with a raft of brothers and sisters. That is, if there's anything left to inherit.”
“Does he live on the ranch?”
“In a trailer house. He needs his privacy.” There wasn't a trace of humor in his voice.
“Does his family approve of his ‘live-ins’?”
“I don't know, I haven't asked them. Why all the questions? Are you thinking of making a play for Roy?”
The bitterness in his voice caused her to look at him sharply. His brows were drawn together in a deep frown of disapproval; suddenly the fun had gone out of the game. Without answering his question she turned to stare out the window.
There were a million questions floating around in her mind. Who was Jack Evans? What had happened to cause him to drop out of the mainstream and live this unconventional lifestyle? Why was he so hostile all of a sudden? Why wasn't she feeling elated because she had, at last, managed to get under his thick skin and irritate him? Was he angry because the cowboy had flirted with her? Did he think she was so shallow that she'd be flattered by the man's rakish attention?
The highway from the rest area to the motel seemed infinitely shorter than it had the day she'd ridden over it with Jack on the motorcycle. Still, it was full of hills and curves, and Gloria was relieved when she could see the familiar orange doors of the motel.
The truck rattled over the metal bridge that covered the drainage ditch and proceeded through the empty parking area. Dusk had settled, and Gloria vaguely wondered why Aunt Ethel hadn't turned on the office lights. Jack braked to a stop just short of the yawning doors of the shed where Ethel parked the truck. Gloria got out without a word or a backward glance. The back door of the motel slammed shut, and Peter ran to meet her.
“Mom! Mom! I c-couldn't f-find you!” Ragged, desperate sobs accompanied his frantic words. Tears streaked his face. He grabbed her around the legs and held on.
“Oh, honey! Didn't Aunt Ethel tell you I went to Lewistown to take the U-Haul back?” She dropped her purse, knelt down beside him, and hugged him to her. “There, there, don't cry. I should have told you I was going.”
“I was s-scared,” he stammered.
“There was nothing to be scared about. You knew I'd be back. Aunt Ethel was with you.”
“Aunt Ethel is sleepin'. I made noise, but she didn't wake up. People called on the radio and she didn't wake up.”
“Aunt Ethel is…sleeping? At five o'clock?”
Gloria blanched, remembering that her aunt never napped, and a cold hand of fear began to squeeze the breath out of her.
“Oh, my God!” She loosened herself from Peter's clinging arms and ran to the door. “Aunt Ethel! Aunt Ethel!”
The kitchen was dark and she fumbled with the light switch. She went quickly through the swinging doors to the living area, switched on another light, then stopped short, the back of her hand going to her mouth.
Her aunt lay on the couch with an arm hanging down, palm out. Her mouth was open and twisted to the side. Gloria leaned over her. She was so pale and still. Fear shattered her heart. No! No! Oh, dear God! Don't let her be…dead! Her mind raced, imagining the worst.
“Jack!” Her scream was like a lost wail. In blind panic she ran to the back door. “Jack!” She sucked air into her lungs in jerky gasps. “Come quick! Aunt Ethel—”
Jack shot past her with Peter clinging to his neck. When he reached the couch he set Peter on his feet, and the distraught child flung himself against his mother's legs, sobbing helplessly. Gloria fell on her knees and gathered him to her.
“Hush, darling, hush. Please hush,” she begged.
Jack searched Ethel's wrist for a pulse and lifted her eyelid. Then he got to his feet.
“She's alive,” Jack murmured gently, and a feeling of relief and gratitude flooded Gloria's numbed senses. “I think she's had a stroke.”
“We've got to get her to the hospital. I'll call an ambulance.”
“It'll take an hour for an ambulance to get here and back.” Jack put a reassuring hand on Gloria's shoulder. “Gary's car is in the shed. I'll get the master key from the office and unlock his room—the car keys are bound to be there. Lock up the front and leave a note on the table for him; he and Dwight should be here soon. Then gather up a bunch of blankets and a couple of pillows.” He was gone before Gloria could get to her feet.
“Aunt Ethel is sick, Peter. You're going to have to help us get her to the hospital. Go put on your jacket and bring the pillow from my bed.” The child stood there sniffling. “You're a big boy, and…Jack and I need you. Hurry now.” Her words seemed to calm him, and he ran toward their room.
Gloria scribbled a brief note to Gary, put it on the kitchen table, and went to her aunt's bedroom. She took several blankets from the closet shelf. She thanked God Jack was with her; her mind was so fettered with fear that she was only half aware of what she was doing. Peter returned, and with trembling hands she helped him into his jacket.
“Take the pillow to the back door and wait for Jack, honey. Oh, I'm so glad I have you to help me.”
“I love Aunt Ethel.”
“I love her, too, honey,” Gloria said, zipping up his jacket and hugging him briefly.
“Will she get
a shot?” he asked gravely.
“I don't know, love. We'll have to wait and see.”
Jack parked the big sedan just a few steps from the back door. Gloria spread pillows on the backseat, and Jack carried Ethel out to the car. He gently laid her down on the seat and covered her with blankets. Gloria climbed in and sat beside her aunt. Jack lifted Peter into the front and fastened the seat belt around him.
“You sit up here with me, hotshot, and hold Aunt Ethel's pocketbook. There may be things in there the hospital will want to know.” He put the car in gear and drove out onto the highway.
Less than five miles down the road they met Gary headed for the motel. Jack pressed on the horn, blinked the car lights, and sped on past. Gloria glanced out the rear window to see the brake lights come on the big eighteenwheeler, then go off as Gary speeded up again. She wondered what he thought at seeing his own car go racing toward town.
Gloria teetered on the edge of the seat, holding her aunt's hand. She had no idea of how she would have reacted to this emergency if she had been there alone. She wanted to talk, wanted to tell Jack how grateful she was that he was with her, but she remained silent, and the big car ate up the miles.
They reached the railroad tracks at the edge of town and Jack slowed the car to ease over them, then turned onto a wide, tree-lined side street; at the end of it was a large gray building. At one side was a circular drive that passed under an enclosure with a large bold sign that said EMERGENCY ONLY. Jack drove the car in, stopped, and pressed on the horn before he got out. A white-coated orderly met him at the door and, after a few words from Jack, turned back to call for a stretcher.
Although she felt nervous and sick, Gloria managed to walk calmly down the corridor to the admittance desk and answer the questions they asked about her aunt. She was terribly glad Jack had thought to bring Aunt Ethel's purse; from it she extracted her insurance card, social security card, and driver's license. She fidgeted while the woman took what seemed like an eternity to note down the information. Her fear grew with each passing second. When the woman was finally done she hurried back to the room where Jack and Peter waited—wanting, needing, the security of Jack's calm presence.
She stood in the doorway and watched Jack cuddle Peter in his arms. The child was asleep, and Jack was shifting him so his head lay comfortably in the crook of his arm.
“He didn't have any dinner,” Gloria said absently.
“I got him a sandwich from the vending machine, but he was asleep before he could eat the whole thing. Did you get Ethel checked in?”
“Yes. Has the doctor said anything?”
“He said they had put her on life support systems, and that another doctor had been called in. Sit down, Gloria. We can't do anything but wait.”
She sat down with a deep sigh, and when he reached for her hand she curled her fingers tightly around his and gripped hard. The warmth and closeness were comforting. She suddenly longed to cuddle against him, as Peter was doing, and absorb his strength.
Time flew past as they sat on the couch, hands clasped, Gloria's shoulder against his.
“Jack,” she whispered softly, unaware of the intimacy of her tone. “I don't know what I'll do if anything happens to Aunt Ethel. She means a lot to me.”
“You'll just have to do the best you can, Glory. We all have an inner strength we don't even know we possess; that's how we endure times of terrible grief.”
“I'm glad you're with me.” She looked up at him, her eyes flooding with tears.
“I'm glad I am too. Are you hungry? I ate what was left of Peter's sandwich, but I can get another one from the dispenser. And there's coffee too.”
“I don't know if I could eat or not, but I could use the coffee. But don't you think you should call Gary?”
“I thought I'd wait until I had something definite to tell him. I'll lay Peter on the other couch and get some coffee.”
After Jack had left the waiting room, Gloria reached for a magazine and began flipping through the pages, hardly reading a word. She was filled with apprehension, her heart fluttering and her fingers trembling as she turned the pages, her ears attuned to the sound of footsteps. The waiting seemed to be more agonizing without Jack; it was easier when he was there to share it with her. She threw the magazine down onto the table and went to the door. At the end of the long hall a white-coated orderly was pushing a cart. She was surprised at the lack of activity, then remembered the time of day and the fact that this was a small hospital, unlike the busy hospitals in Cincinnati where she had occasionally taken children from the center where she worked.
She was very glad when Jack's big frame filled the doorway. His eyes searched her eyes, asking the question: “Any news?”
She shook her head despairingly. “No one has come at all.”
He looked down at her tired, pale face, her darkcircled eyes dulled with fatigue. He had never longed to hold, or kiss, or comfort a woman so badly. She was so small, and looked so forlorn sitting there. He desperately wanted to see her eyes bright with laughter, her chin tilted proudly, her cheeks dimpling merrily.
Jack felt suspended as he stood looking down at her. He was unable to understand or accept the overpowering protective feeling that swept over him. A corner of his heart that had never been filled was suddenly overflowing. Almost in a daze he held out the foam cup.
Gloria accepted the coffee with a bleak smile of thanks.
“It seems like we've been waiting forever,” she said in a choked, tired voice.
“It hasn't been an hour, Glory. We'll know something soon.”
They sat close together on the couch, and when Jack felt a shiver run through her slight body, he took off his jacket and draped it about her shoulders.
His arm stayed about her to hug her to his side.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS PAST midnight. Jack wrapped his jacket around the sleeping child and carried him out to the car. Gloria walked beside him. The air was crisp and cool, the moon clear and bright. He placed the child on the backseat and covered him with the blankets. And then he turned to Gloria and put his jacket about her shoulders.
“No. You'll need it.”
“Get in. I'll get the heater going.”
He opened the door and she slid under the wheel to the other side. She watched him in the flashing lights of a passing car; his face was turned toward her as he inserted the key to start the motor. It was incredible that in just a few hours' time her feelings for him had changed so drastically.
“Move over close to me and we'll keep each other warm until the heater gets going.” His voice came softly out of the darkness over the purr of the engine.
“You can have your jacket.” She was suddenly flustered and at a loss for words. Her gaze was drawn to the shadowed outline of his face and his eyes gleaming at her through the darkness.
“C'mon. Move over.” His hand was on her knee. “Closer,” he commanded softly after she had moved a few inches toward him. “You're shivering.” She moved again, and he adjusted his own position until her shoulder was tucked behind his and her hip, leg, and thigh fit snugly along his muscular length. “That's better. You'll be warm soon.” He shifted the gears and put the car into motion. “We'll be home before you know it, and I'll make us a cup of hot chocolate.”
After they had driven a few blocks, the lights of the town were left behind. Gloria looked straight ahead at the road; she thought about her aunt's condition and willed herself to not panic. Jack placed his hand in her lap; without hesitation she pressed her palm against his, and his fingers entwined with hers.
“I like holding your hand, Glory.”
“Thank you for being with me tonight.” It was pleasant, comforting, to be with him. She was weary in mind and weary in body, and hovered against his masculine strength in a dreamlike state. She felt…sheltered, cherished. His hand was like a lifeline in a storm.
He briefly released her hand to adjust the heater, then blindly sought it again. She clasped it and la
ced her fingers through his.
“You do realize that Ethel may never be completely well again even if she does come through this crisis?”
“Yes, I know that,” she answered in a small voice. “Oh, Jack, she'll never speak again.”
“The doctor said there was the possibility of that. It's not a certainty. She had a massive stroke, and they'll not be sure of the damage for several days. She knew that you were there and that she wasn't alone. I'm sure that meant a lot to her.”
“I'll try to keep the motel going until she can decide what she wants to do with it,” she whispered huskily.
Jack was quiet. The car sped along the highway with only the sound of the motor filling the moonlit silence of the night. He needed time to sort out his emotions, untangle his confused thoughts, and decide what he really wanted out of life. The feelings he had for this woman scared the hell out of him. It was a shock to him to realize that he'd never felt so complete as he had sitting beside her at the hospital, his arm holding her close, sharing her anxiety as they waited for the doctor. All he'd wanted to do, then, was to be with her, comfort her, take care of her. Now he wanted to kiss her with her arms about his neck. He wanted to hold her hips in his hands and feel her breasts against his naked chest, have her to want him. Dammit, Evans, don't think about it! She doesn't feel that way about you.
“You can't run the motel by yourself,” he said, struggling to get his mind back to reality.
“I'll have to.”
“I'm not sure it's a good idea for you and Peter to be out there alone. Gary's gone five nights a week, and there's all kinds of riffraff traveling the highway.”
“I know. I've met some of them. Remember?” She glanced at him and saw the frown creasing his brow. “But if Aunt Ethel could handle them, I can.”
“Ethel is not young and beautiful.”
“Should I thank you for a compliment?”
He searched her features for a trace of sarcasm and found none. Rather, she was trying to suppress a grin. He glanced at the road ahead, then back to her soft mouth and glowing eyes. A lovely, leaping flame of desire flickered through him.
Wishmakers Page 24
