Reclaiming Nick

by Susan May Warren

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “George, you should know that I haven’t even tried to have a relationship with someone since . . . well, since Maggy. And I blew that one good, as you know.”

  Piper fisted her hands into his shirt. “I’m not so good at this either. In fact . . . I don’t do relationships.”

  He cupped her face with his hand. “Like I said, we have time.”

  She turned back to the view, entwining her hands into his. “I’ll bet you missed this.”

  “Yeah, I did. I should have returned sooner. Regret is a powerful thing. It begets itself and changes a person, not always for good.”

  She leaned her head back against his chest.

  “I kept thinking I had to prove something before I came back. I wasn’t sure that I deserved the Noble name, the Noble legacy.”

  “Is that why you became a cop?”

  He didn’t remember telling her that, but perhaps he had. He’d told her a lot of things. “I wasn’t very good at that either, however.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Nick hated this part about himself. But now could be the time to finally let go. “I was a cop in a little town in northern Montana. My second year there, a girl came to town. Her name was Jenny Butler. She worked as a rodeo instructor at the nearby school. She was . . . let’s just say that the way she filled out her jeans caught the eye of every cowhand north of Miles City. And she had a sweet smile.”

  “Sounds like you and she hit it off.” Piper’s tone didn’t change, but he felt a subtle shift in her demeanor. She let go of his hands, slid hers into her pockets. But she didn’t move away.

  “We were friends, but I was worried about her more than anything. I guess I saw Stefanie in her, and in a way I felt responsible for her well-being . . . particularly since I knew the reputations of most of the cowboys in the area. I didn’t want anything to happen. . . .” His voice felt tight, and he looked off into the distance, seeing again Jenny’s broken body lying at the bottom of the quarry.

  Piper turned in his arms, a frown on her pretty face.

  He looked at her, unable to tear his eyes away from the kind gesture. He forced his voice from his chest. “She was murdered. The thing was, I had asked her out a couple times, and people around town thought we were an item. One night when I was on shift, she went to a local bar, and the bartender said he saw her leave with a guy named Jimmy McPhee. His friends said that she told him she had a flat tire. We found her car about a quarter mile away, but we found her body at the bottom of a quarry in the opposite direction, along with tire tracks that matched McPhee’s truck. He claimed he went out into the parking lot with her, and someone attacked him, but we found him sleeping off a hangover in the bed of his truck not far from the quarry. A jury convicted him of murder.”

  “So he was guilty.” Her voice sounded cold, even angry.

  “I don’t know now. At the time it was all I had, and I might have pushed too hard.” He blew out a breath, looking over her head. “McPhee was recently set free. A drifter convicted in Wyoming for a stretch of serial murders confessed to Jenny’s murder.”

  “What do you think? Who was the real murderer?”

  Nick’s voice fell. “Me.”

  She blinked, and in the moonlight, he thought he actually saw her pale.

  He had to wrestle his next words out. “For a long time I blamed myself. I believed the prosecution when they argued that McPhee wanted revenge for the times I’d arrested him on DUI, that he’d wanted to scare her—and thereby me—and things got out of hand. The defense clung to his story of being ambushed.”

  “So he could have been trying to be a hero.” Her eyes glistened, as if feeling Nick’s anguish.

  Her response felt nearly overpowering, and for a second he didn’t know what to say. He stepped away from her, took off his hat, tapped it against his leg. “Either way, I felt to blame.”

  Piper touched his arm. “You weren’t to blame, Nick. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was a small town, and I was a cop. I should have spotted a killer. I should have been there to protect her.”

  A tear trickled down Piper’s cheek. He watched it and reached out to wipe it from her chin. It was quite possible he was falling hard for this woman who knew how to listen, how to care. She covered his hand with hers.

  “At the least, I owe McPhee an apology.” Nick put his hat back on and flashed her a smile, desperate to control the emotions running maverick through him. “I just hope he can start over.”

  Piper stared at Nick a long time before she gave him a small smile. “Me too.”

  The sound of a truck, then the slamming of a door jerked his attention from her.

  “Nick?” Stefanie came into view, flashing a light before her as she ran up the path.

  “What is it?” He hurried toward the light, heard Piper right behind him.

  “It’s Cole. He collapsed at the rodeo.” Stefanie looked frantic, tears chapping her cheeks. “They’re flying him to Sheridan right now.”

  Nick felt Piper’s hand in his and squeezed. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Stefanie shook her head. “Maggy called. She says she needs you, Nick.”

  CHAPTER 17

  OF COURSE MAGGY needed Nick.

  Piper tried to not let those words or Nick’s reaction sting as she watched him sprint down the hill toward the truck. Thankfully, he waited for Piper to climb into the cab before he started the truck and floored it across the prairie. She belted herself in and braced her hands on the dashboard, knowing a request to slow down probably wouldn’t do any good.

  Because Maggy needed him.

  Piper swallowed the pain in her throat, hating herself for believing him, for shutting off her tape recorder, and for wanting him to love her, not Maggy.

  Like it or not, she was beginning to love him. She wanted to bang her head against the dashboard—although the way Nick was driving, it would probably happen anyway—and jostle her common sense out of hiding. Nick didn’t love her. He loved Maggy. Always had, probably always would. Hadn’t Piper seen them together at the rodeo?

  Stupid woman! Carter would strangle her with her apron strings. And to think she’d spent the last few weeks trying to learn how to cook! She hated cooking. Hated chopping vegetables, having to follow directions. But she’d hated the idea of Stefanie and Nick losing this ranch even more. No, she’d just been duped into hating it. Well, wasn’t that what she wanted? For Nick to suffer loss, like Jimmy had?

  “Piper, you okay?”

  She took in Nick, the way he gripped the steering wheel, muscling the truck over the ruts and onto the dirt road. “Fine,” she snapped.

  “You look white as a sheet.”

  “I’m fine . . . just don’t kill us.”

  He shot her a frown, and she felt like a jerk. And scolded herself for that. He was the jerk here, the way he got inside her heart with his charming, deceptive cowboy ways. Like mother, like daughter, apparently.

  “I won’t kill us; I promise.” He sounded hurt.

  “Sorry. I’m just worried about Cole.” She looked out the window, trying to decide if that was a lie.

  Nick said nothing the entire way to the Silver Buckle. He parked in a cloud of dust, followed seconds later by Dutch and Stefanie.

  “Take the plane!” Stefanie hollered as she sprang out of her truck and ran up the porch steps and into the house.

  Piper stood there, caught in the drama of watching Nick race across the courtyard and fling open the doors of a wide barn.

  Sure enough, tied inside sat a white-and-red airplane. Someone could have pushed her over with a coneflower. “Does Nick have his pilot’s license?” she asked nobody.

  Stefanie banged out of the house, holding a briefcase. “C’mon, Piper. I know he’ll want you to go with him.”

  He will? Piper’s legs moved toward the garage even as her good sense told her to hop in her Jeep Liberty and head north by northwest.

  Nick and Dutch were p
ushing the plane out of the hangar, then pulling it toward the driveway. Nick opened the door and climbed inside as Stefanie handed him the briefcase.

  “Piper, get in.”

  Get in? “What is happening here? Someone please tell me that Nick knows how to fly this thing—Get in?”

  Stefanie was walking around the plane, checking for something. Like gas or wheels or wings, maybe? Shouldn’t a plane be at an airstrip?

  “Where is he planning on taking off?”

  “From the driveway,” Stefanie said without looking up. She opened the door, speaking to Nick. “Maggy’s at the hospital—Lolly called and said she’d meet you at the strip.” Stefanie held the door open, looking in anticipation at Piper. “Well, c’mon.”

  Piper put her hands to her head. “I . . . are you sure . . . I . . .”

  Emotion flashed across Stefanie’s face. Worry? No, more than that. Piper saw in Stefanie’s expression hope that Piper meant something to Nick. That he might need her. And because of that, Stefanie might need her too.

  For a sweeping moment, Piper felt like part of the family.

  As if to confirm her thoughts, Stefanie let the door close and ran toward her. She took Piper’s hands, pierced her with her dark eyes. “Please, Piper. I’ll be right behind you in the truck. Nick is a great pilot. Or at least he was.”

  That was comforting.

  Stefanie smiled through the tears gleaming on her cheeks. “I know you care about Nick. And he might need you.”

  Piper swallowed hard and made herself nod. Made herself let go of Stefanie and climb into the plane. Made herself strap in, hang on, and keep her eyes open as Nick fired up the propeller and floored the two-seater down the patch of dirt driveway before soaring into the sky.

  As the propeller buzzed and her ears clogged, Piper thought she heard another shattering of the walls that kept her safe and pain free. The walls around her heart that, before she’d come to the Silver Buckle, she hadn’t even known existed.

  Maggy had never felt so brittle. For the last hour, she’d stood with her head pressed to the cool pane of the window, trying to calm the shaking that emanated from inside. At least here in the waiting room, she didn’t have to watch Cole die.

  She’d lingered far too long outside the hanging curtain walls of the ER, watching as Doctor Lowe, who had met them in the emergency room, started intravenous lines, dripping fluids into her pale, weak husband. Everything inside her had wanted to scream, to let go and fall apart right there.

  CJ had stayed in the waiting room with Big John Kincaid, who’d flown them both to Sheridan after Maggy had found Cole slumped in the bed of their pickup. Her sweet husband had hung on long enough to see CJ’s performance—that much she knew from his mumbled words and the way he’d taken CJ’s hand.

  Please, God. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t raise CJ alone. She wrapped her arms around herself, repulsed by the smells of antiseptic that clung to her, the memory of the respirator, the beeping of the EKG monitor still boring into her mind. Cole’s chest had barely moved, and if it weren’t for the faintest flickering of his eyes when she watched Doctor Lowe close the curtain as he came out to talk to her, she’d think Cole might be already gone.

  Even now, she felt as if she might be choking. She covered her mouth with her hand, fighting back the sobs. She wouldn’t cry in front of CJ.

  Maggy still felt Lowe’s firm grip on her arm as he’d led her from Cole’s curtained room, past other closed curtains, and out into the hall. Her heart had turned more leaden with each step.

  The prognosis felt fresh and raw, her own desperation painful as she ran it over in her mind. “You said we had weeks, even months.”

  Lowe had worn a stony expression. “I said you could have weeks. But Cole’s condition has obviously plummeted.” He shook his head. “I checked the transplant list on the way over here. Even if we bump him up because of his condition, he’s in bad enough shape that there’s . . . well, he might not get a donor.”

  Maggy had closed her eyes and reached out to brace her arm on the wall, her knees feeling as if they’d give out at any moment.

  “I have to ask again—how about testing CJ?”

  Maggy stared at him, horrified. “CJ? I don’t understand. CJ . . . is alive. What do you mean?”

  Doctor Lowe frowned, pursed his lips, sighed. “I see. Cole didn’t tell you.”

  What hadn’t Cole told her? A thread of anger entwined her fraying emotions. “Tell me what?”

  “That a liver donor can be a live donor. The liver is the one organ that grows back.”

  “A live donor?” Her breath gusted fast and hard from her chest. “A live donor?”

  “Yes, which is why I suggested that CJ get tested. It’s not always sure that a family member is a match, but at this point it’s worth a try. CJ is young, but he might be strong enough.”

  Maggy’s mind had reeled. She pressed her hand to her forehead, finding it cool and clammy. “Uh . . . no . . . no, that won’t work. But I have an idea . . . okay . . .” She took a deep breath, feeling herself shake as the truth formed, took shape. “I can do this.”

  Doctor Lowe had touched her arm. “Are you okay, Maggy?”

  She’d closed her eyes. No, she wasn’t okay. After Cole realized what she was about to do, he’d probably never forgive her.

  But he’d be alive to never forgive her. When she nodded, a fierceness had come over her, taken possession of her body, her tone. “You keep him alive, Doc, and I’ll deliver a donor.” She’d rushed past him to the front desk and called Nick Noble.

  Now, with her thoughts churning over what she was about to do, she thumped her head against the glass of the window. Nick, where are you? She’d called nearly two hours ago, and Stefanie had promised to send him. But what if Stefanie knew? What if she’d already told Nick everything? What if he’d said no?

  She glanced at CJ, her heart breaking. How could he? Especially after today? “You got some boy there, Mags. Cole should be so proud of his son.” If that wasn’t Nick’s way of forgiving Cole, what was?

  Maggy stilled, a gasp tunneling through her. Was it possible that Cole had been right—that Nick didn’t know? That he’d left without . . .

  She put her palm to her chest. If he didn’t know . . . well, then he couldn’t find out. Ever.

  If Nick discovered that CJ was his son after all these years, would he risk his life to save the man who had replaced him?

  Even as she thought it, she caught sight of Nick running up to the emergency-room entrance and flinging open the door. He strode into the waiting room. When he saw her, the look he gave her left her feeling as if she’d been broadsided by a bull, her emotions completely scattered.

  And he didn’t stop at hello. He crossed the room and hauled her into his arms, tight and hard and desperate. “Maggy, are you hurt? What’s wrong with Cole?”

  She closed her eyes, hating the fact that she needed—oh, so much—this man she’d long ago loved and who had deeply hurt her to come to her rescue.

  Nick loosened his hold on Maggy and stepped back, realizing that he’d probably scared her. But he wasn’t going to act like he didn’t care—for her or CJ or even Cole. He’d been fending off his emotions since taking off in the plane, and during the entire hour-long flight to Sheridan he had only barely managed to keep his focus on the instrument panel.

  If Piper hadn’t been sitting beside him, he might have flipped out and landed on the side of a mountain. He wasn’t sure why Stefanie insisted she accompany him, but as usual his sister had excellent instincts. Thinking about Piper sitting beside him, trusting him—as if he didn’t notice the way she gripped the straps—made him slow down and breathe.

  He spotted Piper and Lolly coming through the door, even as he focused on Maggy. She looked like she might pass out. “What’s going on? Where’s Cole?”

  Maggy touched his hand lightly, and he felt her tremble. “I’ll take you to him, Nick. But I need to talk to you.” Her voice seemed small, e
ven breakable, not Maggy at all.

  He caught Piper watching him, worry on her beautiful face. For a second, he wished he could explain to her exactly how he felt—how Maggy would always be a part of the fabric of his past, but now he knew she belonged to Cole. And how he hoped that Piper might someday belong to him.

  Instead, he let Maggy lead him toward the emergency exam rooms. Every time he’d been in a hospital, he’d felt nauseous and light-headed. It didn’t help his stomach when she opened Cole’s curtain and he saw him lying there, chalky and barely breathing, wires and tubes hooked up to him, oxygen hissing through the mask that covered his face. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Maggy touched Cole’s leg, anguish on her face. Her braids hung in a disheveled mess, and in the fluorescent lights she looked ashen.

  He took her by the shoulders and lowered her onto a nearby chair, crouched before her. “What is it?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “You’re really scaring me, Mags.” He couldn’t look at Cole.

  “Nick . . . Cole’s dying.”

  Words sucked out of him, his mouth dry.

  Her eyes filled, and she didn’t bother to wipe away her tears. “He’s got liver failure.”

  “What?” He gasped, as if he’d been hit, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around her words. He stood, backing away from her, suddenly aware of the sound of Cole’s breathing machine, the beep of the monitors. The roaring in his head. “Cole hasn’t had a drink in his life.”

  “It’s not cirrhosis. They don’t know why. They’ve done dozens of tests, but they don’t know what’s causing it. All we know is that if he doesn’t get a new liver he’ll die. Soon.”

  Maggy faced him, and only her steady, almost clinical voice made Nick hear her. How could she be so calm? “I don’t understand. How long have you known?”

  “Only a short while. And CJ doesn’t know at all. Cole’s been having symptoms for a couple years now. Weakness, brittle bones, bleeding, depression, jaundice.”

  “You should have told me.”

  The look on her face made him want to crawl into a hole. He cringed, loathing himself. “I should have been here,” he amended. He crouched before her again, feeling very, very close to erupting, wanting desperately to hit something. “Maggy, I am so, so sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for hurting you. I feel sick about it. Please forgive me.”