by Doyle, Jen
Karen steeled herself. He didn’t seem to have any papers to serve, but she’d been waiting for this moment since that night in Inspiration. She made sure the expression on her face held no defensiveness whatsoever, though. No expression at all.
“I don’t know how we’re supposed to feel about any of this,” he said. “Maybe we should be angry. But all I feel every time I look at you is grateful.” When he looked up at her there were tears in his eyes.
Oh, no. She hadn’t been ready for this. Karen reached down for the box of tissues she kept for families in her bottom drawer. Damn it. She’d taken that box for Bruiser.
“They said she could’ve died. That she did die on the operating table. But you didn’t give up. And maybe something like that will happen again and maybe I won’t have her for that much longer. But every day I thank God that you’re the doctor who took care of her. And that you gave us even this much more time.”
Karen froze when he reached forward and took her hand. Turned it over to look at it.
She gave hugs to patients. She did whatever she could for them. She tried to be the human face they needed for the horrendous road ahead. But rarely did they reach out to her. Rarely did they care for her. She gripped Gabe’s hand tightly. It was almost as if she had no choice.
“I know what Gary said. That we should sue, whether we have grounds or not. But I can tell you right now we don’t want you walking around wondering. If anyone ever even suggests that possibility to us, they will learn mighty quick that we think about you as our angel.”
She reached down into the other drawer. No boxes there, either. Goddamn it. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t be having conversations like this.”
Releasing her hand and sitting back, Gabe shook his head. “I give so little of a Goddamn what we should or shouldn’t talk about. All I know is you gave her back to me. You kept her here. That’s all that matters.”
Then he had to take a moment to clear his throat a few times. Which, honestly, gave Karen time to do the same. She’d finally remembered there were some on the shelf behind her so she grabbed a handful of tissues just to be safe and then handed over the box. He laughed self-consciously. “That’s one good thing about her not being able to see,” he said. “She doesn’t know how much I cry.”
He was a big, burly guy. Tattoos up and down his arms. If you saw him on the street you would turn the other way abruptly, and Karen didn’t imagine he cried very often. At least not until recently.
Now it was Karen’s turn to lean forward and smile. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but I think she probably does. And she loves you all the more for it.” She dabbed at her eyes before sitting back. “Watching the two of you together is a wonderful thing. I hope you keep in touch.”
He hesitated for a few seconds and then said, “Well, that’s actually why I’m here.”
Karen froze for the second time. “It wasn’t just to tell me you’re not going to sue me?”
He shook his head. “They’re holding a fundraiser after the Christmas Pageant on Friday night. Deacon’s is hosting. Taylor’s doctor said she was doing well enough at rehab that she could go for a couple of hours.”
“Well that’s great,” Karen said. “I bet it will be an amazing night. I’m really glad she can be there for it.”
Then he was back to squeezing his hat. “Well that’s the thing. Taylor’s really glad, too. But she said she wanted you there.”
“What?” Karen hadn’t quite meant to say it so sharply, and yet...
Gabe didn’t seem to mind. “As soon as she heard what had happened at the meeting the other night, she turned to me and said, ‘They told me I wouldn’t be able to see ever again, but it turns out I can and everything right now is red.’”
Under any other circumstances, Karen would have smiled at hearing his attempt to emulate his petite wife’s high voice and southern accent. Under these circumstances, however... “I can’t. I really can’t.”
“She knew that’s what you’d say. That’s why she told me that unless you were there she wouldn’t be, either.” Gabe stood up and placed a flier on Karen’s desk. “That man had no right to use us against you. She wants to make sure the whole town knows how we feel.”
Chapter Nineteen
So, on the Friday before Christmas, Karen found herself in Deacon’s Bar and Grille, in full-out avoidance mode as she beelined it to the table Zach, Ryan, and Tim were holding. The whole Gary Hale thing had been bad enough, but having this after the Christmas Pageant meant everyone was fully in holiday cheer mode and Karen was afraid she might break out into a sweat.
“Oh, boy,” Ryan mumbled to her, distracted by the scenery enough that Karen had to nudge him over so she could take her chair. Because, yes, Inspiration did seem to have something in the water that made its men—and women, for that matter—exceptionally attractive. There also seemed to be an unusual number of pro athletes and other celebrities around, most of whom Ryan needed to identify for Karen since only one had been on Dancing with the Stars.
“Inspiration sure does their fundraisers up big,” he murmured once she’d sat down.
But although she could—and did—happily appreciate the male physical form, it wasn’t until Tuck stood up, all decked out in his uniform, damn him, that Karen’s entire body went on alert. She’d sworn to herself she’d remain completely impassive, but it did require her to dig her nails into Ryan’s skin in order not to outwardly react. He didn’t appreciate it very much, but she’d warned him and since it was his damn fault she’d been with Tuck in the first place, she only felt slightly guilty.
She missed Tuck. She missed everything about him. She missed his voice. She missed the way his chest felt under her hand. She missed the way he kissed her. But above all, she missed the way he held her, whether after setting her on fire in the middle of the night, or while he was stroking her hair and absorbing every one of her tears as she cried.
Which she was desperately trying not to do right now. Especially when Ryan squeezed back. “You okay?”
“Nope.” But that didn’t matter because she told Taylor she’d be here and she was.
There was a small raised platform in the corner—decked out in bells and lights, of course—and the second Tuck took the mic from its stand, the cheering began. The thunderous cheering. The place was packed. Since Tuck was who Tuck was, she was sure they were within the allowed capacity, but it sure felt like the place was bursting at the seams. They really were his people, and although she hoped he missed her at least a little bit as much as she missed him, she knew she’d made the right decision by letting him be.
When he held his hands up for silence, she was pretty impressed they listened right away, and he went immediately into it, saying, “Everyone here knows Gabe Bradshaw, Inspiration class of... Well, I won’t say it because it was my class year, too, and we don’t need you to know how old we are. But he’s one of ours.” A roar went up through the crowd. Tuck let it hang there for a few seconds, but it wasn’t too long before he held up his hands again.
“And we all know what happens even when one of ours decides to leave us and cross over into rival territory...” Which in itself got a round of boos, reminding Karen that Gabe and Taylor didn’t actually live in Inspiration. “But he’s still one of us and that means his wife is, too.” He held his hands up before the cheers could begin again although they were still rumbling through the crowd.
“Taylor Bradshaw got dealt a bad hand. Sometimes that’s just the way it works. But she’s been feeling a lot better lately, and she wanted to come out herself to say a few words. So we decided to forget tonight that she may have led the team that beat us in volleyball for three years running—which I believe may have been when she caught Gabe’s eye—and instead call her what we know her to be, which is a member of our family.” He ge
stured to the bar. “For those of you who don’t know her, Taylor Bradshaw.”
There probably wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room as Taylor, with her hand on Gabe’s arm, made her way to the stage. She might not be able to see it, but this crowd made sure she heard it, every one of them on their feet with the most amazing standing ovation Karen had ever seen. It was a moment Karen would never forget and worth any amount of discomfort of being here.
It felt like a really long time before people sat down, and Tuck leaned down to say something to Taylor before handing her the mic. “As you all know,” she said, “I can’t see too well these days. And that really does suck. But I do get to wear a lot of fancy sunglasses—” she pointed to the diamond-encrusted, 50s style ones she now wore “—and I thank you all for sending them to me. But that’s not what I came to say.”
She reached out for Gabe’s hand and clutched it. “I have to tell you, I really wish I could look at the world through rose-colored glasses again, but I can’t. And I’m grateful to every one of you here tonight because I’m not sure what my family would’ve done without you these last couple of months.”
Turning her head, she said off mic, “Tuck?”
Karen loved the way he stepped forward, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Right here,” she could see him say.
Taylor let go of Gabe’s hand just long enough to pat Tuck’s. Back into the mic, she said, “We’re hugely grateful to the Iowa Dream Foundation and to Chief John Tucker for everything they’ve done. There are very few people who can go through something like this and have the luxury of knowing the only thing they need to worry about is getting well. My kids thank you, my husband thanks you, and I thank you.” She squeezed Tuck’s hand again and then she took a deep breath, all of the emotion of it caught by the mic. Karen took out a small packet of tissues, just to be safe.
Much more subdued now, Taylor said, “But I can’t go another moment without saying thank you to the woman who not only saved my life, but who reminded me of the gifts I truly have in this world. Is Dr. Karen Carmichael here?”
It was Karen’s turn to take a deep breath. She had no idea how she was going to get through this.
“I said, is Dr. Karen Carmichael here?” Taylor asked again, reminding Karen that the woman had been a kindergarten teacher and did not suffer fools gladly.
Karen cleared her throat. “I’m, uh, here.”
Taylor turned toward Karen’s voice. “Good. Dr. C—maybe you could come on up to the stage?”
At Karen’s look, Ryan shrugged. But there was a smile on his face.
Then the crowd started chanting her name and she had no choice but to get up. If nothing else, they didn’t seem to have turned on her yet. For Taylor, she reminded herself. So Karen made her way to the stage, not quite ready for the standing ovation she now got as Taylor grabbed her hand.
Holding on tightly, Taylor took to the microphone again and made her point. Quite precisely. “In case you all didn’t know, they told me I would have died if not for Dr. C. And there’s only so many miracles that one woman can perform, so if it’s my life over my sight, then I’ll take it. She made me laugh when I thought it wouldn’t ever be possible again, and she held my hand while I cried. God sent me down an angel this Christmas and her name is Karen Carmichael. Anyone who has a problem with that can keep it to themselves.”
The room erupted into applause again as she wrapped Karen in a huge hug. Gabe’s arms came around them as well. Karen might even have shed a tear or two, and she didn’t even feel bad about it.
She felt loved. Adored.
She glanced over at Tuck to see him staring down at the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.
Empty.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Karen said into Taylor’s ear.
The other woman nodded curtly. “Oh, yes, I did.” She gave Karen a tight hug before handing the microphone back over to Tuck and turning toward Gabe in order to make her way off the stage.
“Uh...” Tuck cleared his throat. “Taylor, if you could hold on just a minute. And Karen, too.”
Karen paused. She would really rather not, but that didn’t seem to be an option, unfortunately.
Tuck turned back to the crowd, mic in hand. “You may have all heard I lost my temper a couple of weeks back. I’m not at all proud of it. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of dumb things lately.” He turned and looked at Karen, the apology clear in his eyes. “Some of which I am so very sorry about...” Then his smile turned wicked. “And some of which I should be, but I’m not.”
What was he doing?
What was he talking about? The day in her office? In the back of his truck, barely hidden by a cornfield? Or, hell, in the back of Bruiser.
But Karen was not going to allow her body to react. The only reason she felt overheated was because there were a lot of people here tonight. She was thinking about it so much, in fact, that she almost missed the next thing he said.
“But I guess that’s what happens to people when they’re falling in love.”
Entirely stunned by that declaration, Karen felt Taylor grab her hand again; was grateful Taylor seemed to sense Karen needed an arm wrapped around her as well. She tried to keep her mouth from dropping open, but she wasn’t entirely sure she managed.
“Case in point,” Tuck continued, “what you’re about to see here tonight. But before we get to that, I did want to officially say I’ve been put on a three-day suspension for things that I may or may not have done. Officer Baskins is in charge until Thursday.” He looked down at the floor for a few heavy seconds before raising his head again. “And as I’ve been thinking about everything that’s been going on over these last few weeks, I’ve realized that sometimes a readjustment of priorities is in order. I love you all, and I will continue to be here for as long and as much as I can.”
Then he turned to Karen again, looking straight into her eyes. “But I think maybe I didn’t make it clear to this woman how important she is to me. And that when I think about the life I want to look back on, she’s the only thing I see.”
The empty feeling began to slip away as a cheer rippled through the crowd. It was Tuck, yes, but also Taylor and Gabe. Fitz and Deke. Ryan and Zachary, too, of course. And maybe a little bit all of the other people here, the ones who were at this very moment on their feet and clapping and cheering. “Tuck...”
But he didn’t let go of the mic. Instead, he backed away from her. “But I made some big mistakes and I need to make up for them. Which means stepping a little outside of my comfort zone. Maybe a lot outside my comfort zone. So here goes.” He grimaced as he looked over at Taylor. “A few weeks back, Taylor mentioned there had been some speculation as to what I wore under my uniform.”
Now Karen’s jaw truly dropped. Oh God.
“He’s not serious,” Taylor murmured. “Please tell me he’s not serious.”
“I, um...” Oh God. He was loosening his right cuff. And then his left one. “I think he is.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
He just smiled as he handed her the microphone.
“What’s happening?” Taylor clutched at Karen’s arm. “There’s no way in hell you’re not talking me through this.”
The lights went off just then. And then a lone spotlight appeared, shining on Tuck, and someone turned the sound system on.
“Is that the song from Magic Mike?” Taylor snapped.
Karen hadn’t seen Magic Mike, but she certainly knew what it was about. “He, uh, he’s undoing his belt.” A whole new cheer rose up through the crowd, and it was primarily from the women in the place. “Slowly.”
It didn’t have the gun in it, or the handcuffs for that matter. And although he undid the buckle, he just left it hanging there, open. She found it to be almost unbearab
ly sexy and wanted desperately to reach out.
She jumped at the light smack to her arm.
“What’s he doing?”
Karen blinked, needing a moment to regain her bearings. “His shirt. Untucking it.” She wasn’t sure if the squeak came from Taylor or herself.
Then again, the entire crowd was cheering him on, the women laughingly screaming over the music and the men mostly just laughing. Other than the twinkle in his eye, Tuck didn’t seem to care. Instead he just grabbed the Santa hat someone threw from the air and pulled it on. For the first time in a very long time, Karen had absolutely no problem with Santa—except maybe for the fact that he was still fully clothed, although not for long apparently, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt.
“No. He’s. Not,” Taylor muttered as Karen explained.
“Yes,” Karen replied. “He is. One button at a time.”
A giggle erupted from her mouth, and that was before he palmed the Santa hat, tipped it forward so as to cover his eyes, and then back again in a very stripper-type move. She had gone to a bachelorette party or two, so she was at least aware of that much. He even turned his back to the crowd and gave a nice, slow roll of his hips. By the time he began to shrug his uniform top off, the crowd, which had been infinitely more than enthusiastic before, was in a downright frenzy—even though he still hadn’t removed his plain white T-shirt or so much as unbuttoned his pants—and Karen was now laughing so hard she was crying, Taylor next to her doing the same.
Tuck was...an awful dancer. The man did not appear to have a rhythmic bone in his body. Well, actually, he did have one, but Karen was going to keep that to herself, even—especially—as she described as much as she could to Taylor before Tuck slid his belt off, doubled it up, and wrapped it around her. She yelped as he pulled her to him. Her eyes widened when he reached down between them for the microphone.
“What are you doing?” Well, he’d certainly gotten over his discomfort about showing the world how he felt about her, hadn’t he? “Tuck.” Her hands went to his chest, although she wasn’t entirely sure if that was to stop him or to just get a feel or two in. She was a bit overwhelmed at the moment and, honestly, he could have stripped her and she might not have noticed. He grinned as he looked down at her, simultaneously taking the mic from where she was clutching it in her hand.
