by A. C. Arthur
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Groaning, Brandon reversed his course and headed in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, he parked behind Uncle Thad’s black Buick, got out and started up the walkway. Unlike the other houses on the block, this one had no steps leading to the door, which made it easier for him to maneuver his crutches or wheelchair. He rang the bell and, while waiting, scanned the meticulously groomed yard. Brandon remembered mowing it on many weekends growing up. The grass had turned brown in spots, but that was to be expected with the drought.
“Brandon, come on in.”
He turned at the sound of his uncle’s voice and stepped inside. “Hey, Unc. I see you still keep the yard looking good.”
Uncle Thad smiled. “You know I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He adjusted his crutches and led the way farther into the house. “Sorry you had to go out of your way. I know you probably have things to do so I won’t keep you.” The inside of the house was just as neat, with not a speck of dust to be found anywhere, despite his bachelorhood. He picked up a manila folder from the dining room table and handed it over.
“Thanks. Dad or I will fill you in when you get back.” Brandon retraced his steps to the front door.
“All right. See you Friday.”
He loped down the walk to his car, got in and backed out of the driveway. His stomach growled again. He had a steak marinating that he planned to grill and pair it with some potatoes and an ear of corn, but he was so hungry he didn’t think he’d last the time it took to prepare the meal. But he didn’t want to stop for fast food, either. The good thing was that Unc’s house wasn’t far from the freeway. He shifted his gaze from the road briefly to check the dash clock. Seven thirty. Hopefully, at this hour, he would have missed a good portion of the traffic. Brandon eased onto the highway and immediately saw that it was still a little heavy, but not too bad. His cell rang again. He sighed and connected.
“You were supposed to stop by my office and tell me what Dad wanted,” Siobhan said as soon Brandon answered. “I went to your office and your assistant said that you left before five. You never leave before five. What happened?”
He sighed, not really wanting to talk about it. “I just thought I’d leave a little early today, Vonnie, that’s all.”
“Mm-hmm, and you didn’t answer my question.”
Rather than risk his sister coming to his house tonight—and she definitely would to get answers—Brandon gave in. “He’s postponing his retirement.” He repeated what he’d told Khalil.
“That’s strange. Well, at least you’ll still get the position.”
“Yeah, but—” A truck cut across the highway and hit something in the road that flew through the windshield of a car in the next lane a few lengths ahead. The car swerved and crashed into the center divide. Brandon let out a curse, flipped on his hazard lights and eased to a stop in front of the car. “There’s an accident. I’ll call you back.”
Luckily, the shoulder was wide enough for the crashed car to be out of oncoming traffic. He jumped out, cell phone in hand and, being careful to stay closer to the shoulder, sprinted back to the passenger side of the car while dialing 911. He peered through the window and saw a woman inside. He gave the dispatcher the location and told him that the woman was conscious, but that a pipe of some sort was imbedded in her right shoulder. Brandon couldn’t tell whether it had gone in deep or if it was just the deployed airbag holding it in place. “Miss, are you okay?” he called through the slightly open window.
She moaned, tried to push the airbag out of her face with her left hand and rolled her head in his direction. Her eyes fluttered closed and opened again.
In the fading sunlight, Brandon could see bits of glass in her hair and blood on her cheek where she had been cut. “Can you unlock the doors?” For a moment he thought she had passed out, then he heard the click of the lock. He opened the door and, being careful of all the glass on the seat, leaned in. “Help is on the way. What’s your name?”
“Faith,” she whispered.
“Faith, I’m Brandon. Are you hurt anywhere else besides your shoulder?”
“I... I don’t know. Every...thing...hurts.” Her eyes closed again.
“Faith, I need you to stay with me.” He backed out and started to go around to the driver’s side.
She moaned again. “Please...please don’t leave.”
“I’m just coming around to your side.” He waited for a break in the traffic and hurried around to the driver’s side. Once there, he carefully opened the door and managed to give her some breathing room from the airbag. Brandon reached for her hand, his concern mounting. “Are you still with me?” She muttered something that sounded like yes. Brandon was momentarily distracted when another person approached.
“Is she okay, man? I called 911.”
“Thanks. She’s hanging in there.” It seemed like an eternity passed before he heard the sirens. Finally.
When the paramedics and police arrived, Brandon stepped back. A police officer called him over to give a statement and his gaze kept straying to where the medical team was getting her out of the car and onto a gurney. Faith cried out and it took everything in him not to rush over. He finished his account and stood by watching with the other two people who had eventually stopped.
“Is one of you named Brandon?” a paramedic called out.
Brandon strode over. “Yeah. Me.”
“She’s asking for you.”
He smiled down at her strapped down on the gurney. In the fading sunlight, he could see her face starting to swell where the airbag had hit her. “You’re in good hands now.”
“Thank you,” Faith said, her voice barely audible. “My stuff...my...”
He took it to mean she wanted her things from the car. “I’ll get them.” To the paramedic he asked, “What hospital are you taking her to?” After getting the information, he walked back and retrieved her purse, keys and a small bag from the backseat. Why was he thinking about going to the hospital? He’d done his civic duty. It would be easy to hand off her belongings to one of the officers and be on his way. But for some reason, he needed to make sure—for himself—that she was okay. Brandon slid behind the wheel of his car and, instead of going home, merged back onto the freeway and headed to the hospital.
Copyright © 2017 by Sheryl Lister
ISBN-13: 9781488013614
To Marry a Prince
Copyright © 2017 by Artist Arthur
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