A Heart to Call Home

by Amanda Torrey

  “Hey, Ava,” Ben interjected. “Where’s that friend of yours?”

  “Which friend are you referring to, Ben?” Ava smiled sweetly, but Rogan sensed there was an underlying taunt.

  “You know who I’m talking about.” Ben winked.

  “If you’re referring to Karly, she couldn’t be here. She’s on a date. With someone I hope will be a perfect match for her. He works at a museum.”

  Interesting. Rogan noted a slight tensing of Ben’s posture, but he quickly relaxed and took a long sip of his beer.

  “A museum? Sounds boring.”

  Ava’s eyes narrowed at Ben. “Karly loves arts and culture.”

  “Like I said. Boring.”

  Savvy rolled her eyes and turned back to Reed while Ben and Ava had a silent standoff. Rogan was a little surprised that Cole merely sat back, arms crossed over his chest, watching the exchange with amused merriment in his eyes.

  Rogan wasn’t one to enjoy gossip, but this was one untold story that was triggering his curiosity.

  “Great to meet you, Reed. You’re welcome to join us in the kiddie area if you get bored of dealing with these overgrown children.” Savvy smiled at her husband, who smacked her butt.

  Ava smiled widely, and Rogan could see why Cole had given up a prestigious job in Japan to spend his life with her in Healing Springs. “Yes, please come over! We can play barefoot Capture the Flag if it’d be easier for you.”

  “Thanks,” Reed said. “It’s wonderful of you to entertain the kids. I’ve never been to a function quite like this.”

  Savvy laughed. “We don’t do high-class around here. But it’s an excuse for me to fill my Solo cup with something other than juice, so I’m good. Ava is the saint of the group—she lives to play with the kids. The bigger the group, the better.”

  “Oh, you love it, too. Don’t try to fool us.” Ava looped her arm through Savvy’s.

  Savvy made a face. “Trust me, it’s all her. I’m only there to make sure my little demons don’t cause any trouble.”

  As if to prove her point, her group of kids came barreling through the group, tossing a ball between them. The muddy ball bounced off Reed’s chest, leaving a huge spot of dirt.

  “I’m so sorry. Come to my car, I have baby wipes. Those suckers get everything out.” Savvy reached into her pocket, retrieved napkins, and handed them to Reed.

  “It’s okay, I think I’m ready to call it a night, anyway. Nice to meet you all.” Reed stepped back, away from the group.

  “Sorry,” Savvy mouthed to Rogan.

  Rogan approached Reed with caution. He didn’t want her night to end on a bad note. He silently thanked the heavens that the ball hadn’t been thrown by one of his children. “You sure you want to leave? The party’s just getting started.”

  “Yes, I’m beat. Have to get an early start tomorrow so I can meet my projected deadlines.”

  “I see.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. I had a nice time.”

  He raised his eyebrow at her politeness.

  Her face turned quizzical.

  “Did I say something strange?”

  “Yeah, something about having a good time.”

  “I did!”

  Hmm, defensive.

  “Really? Your face tells me otherwise.”

  “Well my face is lying to you, then. My words are what you should believe.”

  Was it his imagination or was she leaning closer to him?

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He found himself needing to clear his throat, because desire had firmly lodged itself there.

  “Thanks.”

  Halfway to the car, as they moved away from the lit field and into the shadows of darkness, with only the moon to guide them, her heel got stuck in the dirt. She dislodged it, then grabbed his arm for balance.

  Her warm hand on his arm felt natural. As if it belonged. As if all thoughts of a physical relationship with his client were not inappropriate at all.

  She stumbled. He caught her.

  “I can usually hold my alcohol better than this.” Her lips turned up at the corners in a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “I guess it’s a good thing you escorted me back. I’d be completely covered in mud otherwise.”

  “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” His voice had grown deeper, huskier. Embarrassingly so.

  “You’re really tall,” she said.

  She clutched the arms that had steadied her, and continued to gaze up at him. His jaw twitched. He fought to keep from leaning down to kiss her glistening lips. Why did she have to keep licking them?

  “So are you.”

  “Freakishly tall, right?”

  “No.” Rogan squeezed her arm gently. “Elegantly tall.”

  “That’s a nice way to put a spin on it.” She finally pulled away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She straightened her shoulders and turned her thermostat back to cold. “I’m right over here.”

  She pointed to her car and rushed toward the door, stopping midway when her heel got stuck again.

  He’d never understand why women wore those things.

  “Oh no!”

  Rogan rushed to Reed’s side, holding her elbow as she removed her shoe and held it in front of her.

  “It broke.”

  Her face fell like a child whose puppy had run away.

  “It’s okay. I made you come here—I’ll buy you a new pair.”

  “They’re seven hundred dollar shoes.”

  Aghast, he grabbed the shoe from her hand, playing with the heel.

  “I’ll fix it for you.”

  She laughed, and he whipped his head up to see if some strange force had overtaken her body.

  Her face lit with glee. He had never seen anything more beautiful. His chest puffed up involuntarily, happy beyond reason that she had laughed. Because of him.

  “There’s nothing a little duct tape can’t fix.”

  “You are not putting duct tape on those shoes. They deserve a proper burial.” She reached out to grab her shoe, but he held it to the side.

  She hopped on one foot, needing to hold his arm for balance.

  “I’ll need that back. I may be turning into a country girl, but I’m not ready to walk barefoot in this mud.”

  “I’ll help you into your car. I’m taking this shoe. Not letting seven hundred dollars go to waste.”

  “It’s okay, really.” Her face turned wistful. She stared at the shoe, but she looked as though she were mourning something deep. “They represent my old life, anyway. There’s no room for them here.”

  He didn’t understand the significance of her statement, but he understood the subtext of loss he could hear in her voice.

  He tried desperately to think of something funny to say. Something to chase away that look. He wanted to hear her laughter again.

  The moment had passed. She started to pull away, but he insisted on holding her steady and leading her to the car.

  “Are you okay to drive?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s the fresh air making me giddy, not the alcohol.”

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  After a terse goodbye, Rogan retreated to the shadows where he watched her until her tail lights disappeared around a bend.

  Chapter Five

  Reed hadn’t slept a wink. As if preparing for a high-stakes board meeting, she went over and over her new life plan in her head, counting lifestyle choices instead of sheep.

  She had been approaching this whole thing wrong.

  She had to loosen up if she were to be anything like her mother.

  First mission—learn something new. Something recreational. She’d drive into town to see what sort of recreation classes they offered—maybe a Zumba or Spinning class. Her mother would have loved both of those. Maybe she’d try line dancing. They probably had that in this country town.

  After a quick shower and some carefully applied make-up to cover her dark under-eye shadows, Reed slipped out to the unattached garage
to start clearing it in preparation for the recycling people.

  When she heard Rogan’s SUV barreling into the driveway, she moved deeper into the garage. She wasn’t hiding… she was just, um, searching for treasures.

  Most of the stuff in the garage looked like it had been here since the 80s. Or earlier. Some of it probably held some value, but she didn’t have the time or inclination to attempt to sort trash from treasure.

  She smiled when she opened a box and found it filled to the brim with old roller skates. They were the old-fashioned four- wheeled kind—the type her mother had always kept hanging around. Reed and her sisters had learned to skate with roller blades, but Mom had always insisted that the best way to go was with four wheels.

  After lugging the box of skates to the recycle section of the garage, Reed pulled a canvas drop cloth off a small fleet of bicycles. When had she last ridden one of those beauties? Probably when she first moved to the big city and couldn’t afford a car or public transportation. She had learned to associate bikes with poverty more than recreation or exercise.

  She wouldn’t be needing any of those to remind her of her tough beginnings. She had a fancy little hybrid car with a hefty monthly payment to remind her of how far she had come.

  Then again, if this investment didn’t pay off, she might need one of those bikes again.

  Harboring negativity had never paid off, so Reed wheeled each and every bike over to the recycle pile, snagging her shin on one of the pedals.

  Reed bent to rub the scraped shin. She definitely didn’t miss bike riding.

  Moving a huge stack of bright orange construction cones to the “keep” section of the garage, she stopped short at the raging sound of a revving motor. Sounded like a drill or a chainsaw. She wasn’t familiar enough with tools to decipher it by sound, so she shrugged and got back to her task.

  After clearing a bunch of junk from a countertop which extended the entire width of the back of the garage, her heart started pounding when she pulled out an old skateboard.

  As a child, she had always wanted to ride one. Her neighbors—all boys—had them, but she had never found the courage to ask to try them out.

  Now was her chance.

  This was what she was meant to do.

  Driving through Healing Springs, Reed had noticed several people cruising through town on skateboards. Most of them had not been teenagers. If she wanted to fit in, maybe this was the place to start.

  The old CEO Reed would have scoffed at the idea of wasting time on a child’s activity.

  The new, tuned-into-her-feelings-and-harnessing-her-mom’s-free-spiritedness Reed was all for it.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Screw the risks.

  Her mom’s favorite adaptation on a popular saying.

  Without a second thought, Reed twisted her hair into a sloppy bun, securing it with the elastic band she had kept on her wrist. She carried the clunky board out to the paved part of the driveway, set it between her feet, and closed her eyes. She visualized herself gliding easily on the skateboard, the breeze tickling her face.

  Things always went better when she visualized the way she wanted them to go prior to beginning something.

  With one last deep breath, Reed placed one foot on the rickety board, then started paddling her other foot on the pavement.

  Easy!

  Elation tore through her. She couldn’t believe how wonderful something so simple could feel.

  The intensity of her pride almost equaled the pride she had experienced during each step up the corporate ladder.

  Somewhere along the line, though, the elation of career milestones had dulled.

  When she made CEO, she hadn’t even celebrated.

  But pushing herself down her driveway on a skateboard?

  Incredible.

  Ready to move to the next step, Reed gave herself a giant send-off, then, victory in sight, placed the second foot on the board.

  She soared for a moment, wanting to close her eyes, to live in the moment. Instead, she tumbled, head first, onto the pavement.

  ***

  “Reed. Reed! Are you okay?”

  Heart in his throat, Rogan leapt off the ladder, dropped the drill, and bolted to Reed.

  Blood gushed from a wound on the side of her head.

  She was awake, but dazed. She looked straight through him.

  “Can you see me?”

  She nodded, then sat upright, bringing her hand to her head.

  “Don’t try to get up.”

  “Is my board okay?”

  He faltered. Shouldn’t she worry more about her gushing head wound and less about the skateboard that had tried to kill her?

  “I’m calling for an ambulance.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

  As if to prove her wellbeing, she stood up. Too fast. She tried to walk, but looked as if she had imbibed a few too many shots of whiskey.

  “I think I fell.” She leaned against a giant oak tree, pressing her hand to her head with one hand and rubbing her hip with the other.

  “You could say that.” Rogan put his arm around her, prepared to lead her to the house. He had to get some ice on that thing before she grew an ostrich egg.

  “What are you doing? You smell nice.”

  Shit. She was brain damaged.

  “Is that cologne? I don’t recognize it.”

  “Come on, boss, let’s get you to a chair.”

  “Boss.” Giggles erupted and she swayed as they walked.

  Rogan tightened his grip on her, not wanting her to fall again. Clearly her head was badly hurt.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head. A ball of something warm and tingly grew in his chest.

  “I think I’m going to be—”

  Rogan leaned in to hear what she mumbled, but nearly let go of her when she began to vomit.

  The smell made him want to join her, but worry soon took over. This wasn’t good. She was probably in shock. Concussions were bad. He needed to get her to the hospital.

  When she finished, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his vehicle. He had to get her to the hospital.

  “Are we going somewhere? Ooh, I’ve never been in your car. I think I’m sitting on something.”

  From the driver’s seat, Rogan reached across the bench and felt around until he retrieved his daughter’s stuffed animal from beneath Reed.

  He cursed himself for feeling a twinge of excitement when his knuckles grazed Reed’s ass.

  He was a sick pig.

  “Come on, boss, we’re going on a field trip.”

  “I like field trips.” Her voice sounded dreamy, different. Before he could respond, her head flopped onto the window and she closed her eyes.

  “Don’t go to sleep.” He reached over and squeezed her knee. “Reed. Wake up. Dammit.”

  He gunned the engine and raced toward the hospital, grateful it was a short drive away. He should have called the EMTs. He should have let professionals handle this. He should have thought this through.

  “Reed. Wake the hell up.”

  “Ouch. You pinched my leg.”

  “Jesus. Don’t scare me like that.”

  “I’m not Jesus, silly. I’m Freedom.”

  She was delusional, that’s what she was.

  “You hit your head. We’re going to the hospital.”

  “I don’t need the hos—”

  He grabbed the sweatshirt that had been left on the seat beside him and shoved it onto her lap before her puking resumed.

  He lowered the window and prayed he wouldn’t lose the contents of his stomach before he could get her to the hospital safely.

  “Okay, boss. We’re here.”

  “Where?”

  “Never mind. You’ll see.”

  He lifted her from the passenger seat, careful to hold her head against his shoulder.

  Nurses rushed forward with a backboard when he reported the incident. They chastised h
im for moving her, said he should have called for an ambulance.

  Fear squeezed his gut. Could he have hurt her more?

  “You’ll have to wait out here, sir.” The sliding glass doors slammed in his face. He stood there until the receptionist at the ER window directed him to take a seat.

  He leaned forward in the chair, his hands clasped on his lap, leg bouncing up and down.

  He hadn’t realized that he still had vomit on his shoes until a little girl seated close to him complained to her mother about the smell.

  He continued to stare in the distance as they changed their seat.

  The third time he asked the receptionist for information, she told him, quite sternly, that he could leave and they would call him if she needed a ride.

  He paced the waiting room instead.

  What felt like hours later, the door slid open again and Reed was being pushed out in a wheelchair.

  He rushed to her side.

  “Everything okay? Can you walk?”

  “Yes, they said this is hospital protocol. I think it’s crazy when nothing happened to my feet.”

  “Mr. Peterson.” The young man pushing the wheelchair erroneously assumed that Rogan was Reed’s husband, and waited expectantly for a response.

  “Oh, good grief. He’s not Mr. Peterson. I’m single.”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” The man blushed at her chastisement. “Will he be watching over you today and tonight?”

  “No. Why would he? I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Reed snapped the papers out of the young man’s hands and stood up. She immediately gripped the side of the wheelchair, attempting to keep her balance. Rogan rushed to her side and put his arm around her to steady her.

  “I’ll be with her.”

  “Okay. She has the instructions for what to watch for. The scan didn’t show bleeding in her brain, but a concussion is a serious matter.”

  Reed tightened in his arms.

  “I’ll study the instructions. Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “Mrs. Peterson, I’ll need to push you out in this chair.”

  “It’s Ms. Peterson, or simply Reed, and I am ten feet from the door.”

  “Hospital policy—”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s all I keep hearing about. Fine. Push away.”