by JoAnn Durgin
“Name, please?” Brows arched, she waited.
“Eric Carlisle.”
She squealed, causing the young couple in front of them to take a break in the action and stare at them. “Seriously? Of course, I’ve heard of Eric Carlisle. That’s awesome!”
Mitch laughed, enjoying her enthusiasm. “Have to say, I didn’t expect such a positive reaction from anyone younger than sixty.” They’d reached the highest point of the Ferris wheel’s rotation. “Careful. Don’t get too excited and rock us too much.”
“My grandma talked about Eric Carlisle all the time. She watched. . .oh, what was it? Destination Venice. That was one of his films, right?”
“Wow. I guess you really are legit and not just trying to flatter me.”
“Your grandfather was very handsome. Virile. Strong. Oh, and he had the most fabulous speaking and singing voice.”
“Virile?” He chuckled. “Haven’t heard that word actually spoken in. . .well, ever.”
“My Grandma Thor said it once and I always remembered it.” She swatted his arm when he gave her a look. “What? Christian women can’t say virile? Grandma would say, ‘I’m a Christian, but I ain’t dead.’ I’ve probably watched Destination Venice ten times.” Sitting back in the seat, she shook her head. “Imagine that. You’re Eric Carlisle’s grandson. That explains why Doris Bicklebing said you looked so familiar.”
“Grandma Thor sounds pretty cool, too.”
“She was totally cool. I couldn’t pronounce my last name until I was about three, so Thor was easier. And it stuck. She passed away three years ago, but she’d be so excited to know I’ve met you. And that I know you well enough to be sitting next to you on a Ferris wheel.”
Leaning close, Cassie placed her hand on his jaw, moving his face right and then left.
“Like what you see?” Mitch said through clenched jaws.
“You really do look a lot like him.”
“You think so? I’m not sure if he had the freckles. And, sorry to say, I can’t hold a tune.”
She smiled. “If he had freckles, the makeup artists probably covered them with makeup. I’ll withhold judgment on your singing for Sunday morning if you go to the church service with me. Us,” she added.
“And the virile thing?”
That made her laugh. “I’ll reserve comment.”
“Fine. I’ll pretend my ego isn’t bruised.” Being silly, he raised his arm and flexed like he’d done on the plane with Amy. “Exhibit A.”
“Like I said, you’re my hero. I think that qualifies. But if forced, I’ll deny I ever admitted it.”
The smells—greasy foods and the cotton candy from the booth next to the Ferris wheel—invaded his senses. Good thing his stomach wasn’t queasy. A quick glance at Cassie confirmed she took it all in stride and wasn’t bothered. He couldn’t imagine any of the women he knew wanting to ride a Ferris wheel at a county fair. They’d be more concerned about getting dirty or infected by something on the seat.
Enough with the comparisons. In every way, Cassie could outrun, outlast, and outshine any of them. Like a beautiful ray of sunshine bursting through the dark rain clouds of the past few years. Now he was growing poetic?
As soon as the ride ended, Cassie hopped down from the seat and led the way to a shooting gallery. “You any good at this? What do you say to a little friendly competition?”
Mitch laughed. “Bring it on, Annie Oakley.”
He emerged victorious, but Cassie was a worthy opponent. The gamekeeper pointed to the prizes, mostly cheap overstuffed animals in garish, glow-in-the-dark colors. “Take your pick, buddy.”
“I’ll let the lady choose.” Cassie thanked him and selected a purple bear with pink stars around its eyes.
For the next hour, they talked quietly as they waited in lines and then rode several rides. They were chased away from one kiddie ride. “Get out of here. You’re too old!” the teenager manning the ride yelled, shaking his hand at them. After that, what else could they do but ride the tamer-than-a-turtle carousel? Mitch took photos of Cassie sitting atop a white horse. He handed her the phone and she snapped pictures of him riding a black stallion. Before the ride ended, he captured more spontaneous photos. Mitch had the feeling he’d be looking at those a lot when he went home.
On the bumper cars, Cassie relentlessly tore around the place with that purple bear sitting beside her. She’d named him Eddie. With his lifeless eyes and stitched-on grin, Eddie was beginning to get on his nerves.
“At least you don’t drive like that in real life,” he teased as they climbed out of the bumper cars. “That maniacal gleam in your eyes was scary. And don’t get me started on Eddie. That bear’s a little freaky.”
She laughed and hugged her bear. “Don’t insult Eddie. Come on. You know why he’s special, don’t you?”
“I can’t begin to imagine. If you’re hugging him like that, you could at least name him Mitch. Or Mitchell. Or Jacob or Ainsworth.” He lifted his shoulders. “Some other variation of your benefactor.”
“Benefactor? You’re jealous.” She planted a big smack on Eddie. “Ainsworth?”
“Family name on my dad’s side a few generations back.”
“Well, as Grandma Thor would say, it’s distinctive. Aristocratic even.”
“You’re silly.” Gorgeous and incredible, but silly. He’d needed a day like this—a day to be free and act like a kid again. More than he’d known. He couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone but Cassie. “Want to get something to drink and then head back to Sam and Lexa’s?”
“Sounds like a plan.” She fell into place beside him as they walked to a concession stand then found an empty bench and collapsed onto it. After taking a sip of her pink lemonade, Cassie pressed the sweaty paper cup against her cheek.
Mitch eyed her from behind the rim of his cup as he took a long drink of his Gatorade. “Thank you for today. I haven’t allowed myself a day like this in years.”
She frowned. “You don’t do fun things on the weekends?”
Taking another drink, he gathered his thoughts. “I play pick-up basketball with kids and work on projects for TeamWork whenever I can. I mean fun things like coming to a county fair, for instance. Something that makes me feel like a kid again. It’s been a long time. Too long.”
“I imagine you miss your friend even more on the weekends, don’t you? That’s when I tend to think more of Tagg.”
That question gave him pause. “You know about Brad?”
Her cheeks filled with color. “Only a little. Winnie mentioned it yesterday before you arrived. I’m sorry you lost a friend in such a senseless act of terrorism, Mitch.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I didn’t say anything during our walk last night because I didn’t feel it was my place.”
“You know what it’s like, though, don’t you?” After hearing about Tagg, he figured that Cassie—as much as anyone else—understood the deep-seated grief associated with such a sudden, tragic loss.
“Yes, but the difference is that we didn’t lose Tagg because of the evil in men. Not that it makes it any easier. It cut deep, all the same. But God’s grace gets me through it, step by step and day by day. I hope you’ve found it to be that way, too.”
Ah, Cassie. So much he could say, but he wouldn’t. Not now. He could only nod and reach for her hand again. She hesitated only a minute before giving it to him and smiled when he laced his fingers through hers. “Think you’ll be up to line dancing later, if that’s what the rest of the crew decides to do?”
“I’m kind of tired, but I can run home and grab a quick shower. Then I should be good to go.”
“Papaw! Somebody, help us. Please!” The anguished cries sounded like they came from a child.
Cassie put a hand on his arm, squeezing it. “Can you tell where that’s coming from?”
“Come with me.” Tossing his cup in a trash can, Mitch darted off the bench and dashed to the middle of the fairway. He turned in a circle, scanning the immediate area. When th
e calls for help were repeated, a nearby food vendor pointed toward the Ferris wheel. That’s all the direction he needed.
The instinctive need to help in a medical emergency took over, as it always did. No matter what happened in that Boston hospital during his residency, Mitch couldn’t walk away when someone needed help. If he could offer it, he’d be right there on the front lines.
Lord, here we go. Again.
Chapter 14
Cassie chased behind Mitch as he canvassed the fairgrounds and reached the area near the Ferris wheel in less than a minute. Her eyes widened. An older gentleman was lying prone on the ground with a young girl who looked to be no older than seven or eight huddled next to him, her head on his stomach, sobbing uncontrollably. “Papaw!” she screamed.
“Cassie, I need your help.” Mitch’s voice was firm and authoritative.
“Sure. Anything.”
“If you have a phone, call 9-1-1 or else ask one of the gawkers to call. It doesn’t look like there’s anyone else with them. See if you can get the little girl away from the man. Take her aside and try to calm her down as best you can. She won’t want to leave him, but I need to get in there and work on him until the police officer or the EMTs can get here and take over.”
Pushing his way through the ever-widening crowd, Mitch ran to the man, falling to his knees on the ground beside him. Cassie called to a woman standing nearby to phone for emergency service since she wanted to go to the child. Reaching the scene seconds after Mitch, she gasped.
What she’d thought might be a heart attack was something else entirely. The man’s right arm was bleeding profusely, a puddle of deep red blood on the ground beneath him. The blood came from a jagged, deep gash, his arm nearly severed midway between the shoulder and elbow. From what she could tell, his arm was still partially attached by the bone, but the muscles and tendons were exposed. A wave of nausea swept over her. You can do this.
Mitch had already started an assessment of the man’s condition, checking his pulse and vital signs. She prayed the man wouldn’t go into shock. She didn’t know much about emergency medical treatment, but Mitch certainly did.
Taking a deep breath, Cassie offered her hand to the little girl. “I’m Cassie. My friend’s going to take care of your grandpa until the EMTs can get here.”
Swinging blindly, the girl punched her on the upper arm. Then she pulled away, her eyes wide and fearful before she collapsed against her, her shoulders rocking with her sobs. “His arm almost got cut off!”
“Shh. Everything’s going to be okay, sweetie, but I need you to come with me now.” Cassie once again offered her hand. “We need to step back and let my friend help your Papaw.” Leading the child to one side of the crowd, Cassie kept one arm around her, staying close while still in view of her grandfather. What could have happened? Now wasn’t the time to ask questions. Those would come later, but for now, she needed to keep her as calm as possible.
A worker handed a cardboard box to Mitch. He positioned it beneath the man’s right arm, elevating it. In one swift movement, Mitch tugged his T-shirt over his head and ripped it down the middle. Placing the fabric near the gaping wound, he began to apply direct pressure.
“You were very brave to call for help. Can you tell me your grandfather’s name?”
“Donald Corman.”
“Do you have anyone else here at the fair with you? Somebody else in your family?”
With her face pressed against Cassie’s stomach, the girl moved her head back and forth.
“What’s your name?”
“Mercy.”
Cassie ran her hand over the top of the girl’s head, smoothing her dark curls. “Mercy’s your name?” Maybe if she kept her talking, it would help calm her. “I don’t think I’ve heard that name before. Is it short for something else?”
“Mercedes.” Although her voice was muffled, it was clear. She turned her head to watch what was happening even as she still clung to Cassie.
The man groaned, moving his head from side to side. Glancing about the crowd, Mitch’s gaze found Cassie as he continued to apply pressure to Donald’s wound. After she gave him a nod, Mitch leaned close and spoke to him. She imagined he wanted reassurance Mercy was nearby and that someone was with her. A police officer arrived, this one younger than the one on duty earlier. Crouching beside them, he talked quietly with Mitch.
In another few minutes, the sounds of an approaching siren could be heard. Cassie breathed a prayer of thanks as two EMTs ran to where Mitch still worked to apply pressure to Donald’s arm. After talking in low tones with Mitch for less than a minute, they transferred the wounded man to a stretcher.
Rising to his feet, shirtless and covered with Donald’s blood, Mitch gestured for her to follow them. A young guy standing nearby stripped off his own T-shirt and tossed it to Mitch. Catching it, Mitch called out his thanks.
“Let me talk with the EMTs for a minute,” Mitch told her as they reached the ambulance. They’d loaded Donald into the back and the doors stood open.
“Come with me, Cassie. Please. You promised.” Mercy held on tight to Cassie’s hand as if she’d never let go.
“Of course, sweetie. As long as they say it’s okay.” Judging by the size of the ambulance, there wasn’t a lot of room. She shot a look at Mitch, hoping he’d understand her underlying message and mouthed she has no one else here with her.
Mercy tugged on Cassie’s hand.
After talking in low tones with the EMTs, Mitch held out his hand to her. “It’s all set, but you need to ride in front, Cassie.” He gave her the name of the hospital and said it was a few minutes down the highway. “I have the cross streets and the basic directions, so here’s hoping I find—”
“You should stay with Donald,” she said. “I’ll come in my car.” She crouched down beside Mercy. “Honey, I promise I’m coming to the hospital. I’ll be in my car right behind you. This is my friend, Mitch, and he’ll stay with you for now, okay? You’ll be fine and they’re going to take good care of your grandpa.”
Mercy sniffled. Releasing Cassie’s hand, she nodded but said nothing.
“Time’s short. We need to go.” Putting his hands around Mercy’s waist, Mitch lifted her up into the back and climbed in behind her. “We’ll see you there.” His face blanched. “Promise me you’ll go find that on-duty officer. He should walk you back to the car.” Mitch’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
She nodded. “I will. See you soon.”
He closed the doors and the ambulance pulled away seconds later, sirens blaring.
She stared at her purple bear, forgotten on the ground. “Come on, Eddie,” she said, scooping him in her arms. “Time to go to the hospital.”
Chapter 15
Walking into the emergency waiting room, Cassie spied Mitch sitting with Mercy in one corner. Although it couldn’t be helped, she hated that his clothing was splattered with Donald’s blood. The T-shirt the young guy had tossed at him was about two sizes too small and strained across his chest. In spite of the drama and emotion in the situation, the corners of Cassie’s mouth twitched when she saw the T-shirt featured a heavy metal rock group from the 70s.
She sensed Mitch’s eyes on her when she asked one of the nurses at the station if they had scrubs he could wear, offering to pay for them. “My friend is with the patient’s granddaughter, and with all the blood on his clothes, I hate for her to see the constant reminder.”
The young nurse behind the counter gave her an understanding smile. “When the other nurse comes back—she’s checking a patient’s meds and should be back any minute—I’ll go get some clean scrubs and bring them to you. You don’t need to pay us for them. We’re happy to help.”
“Thanks so much.” When she turned away, Cassie saw that Mitch held Mercy’s hand and both their heads were bowed. Tears stung her eyes at the tender scene and she quietly took the chair on the other side of the little girl. As she’d done most of the way to the hospital, Cassie prayed—t
hat the surgeons would be able to save Donald’s arm and for Mercy and other family members who would be affected by what had happened.
When she finished her prayer, Cassie opened her eyes to find Mitch’s gaze resting on her. They both looked up as a nurse approached and handed him a package of new, aqua-colored scrubs. After thanking the woman, Mitch rose to his feet and stretched. He looked weary but managed a small smile. “This was your doing, I imagine? Thank you.” Excusing himself, he disappeared into the nearby restroom.
Cassie squeezed Mercy’s hand, thankful she seemed much calmer. Hopefully, she understood her grandfather would be fine in spite of the pain he’d suffered. “Do you want me to call your mom or dad? Maybe your grandmother?”
“Mr. Mitch already called my grandma,” the girl said. “And he talked to the police.”
“The police?” Cassie sighed. Of course, another second incident report would need to be filed. What a day. Maybe they should lay low the rest of the weekend.
Mitch emerged a few minutes later. Dressed in the scrubs, he seemed at ease and comfortable in them. Based on his immediate reaction to the medical emergency at the fair, Cassie suspected he’d had some kind of medical training. His manner had been too practiced. Another part of the mystery of this man. More and more, she was learning there was a whole lot more to Mitch than his teasing persona and surface casualness.
One of the nurses handed Mitch a plastic bag for his soiled clothes. When he walked toward where Cassie sat with Mercy, his familiar smile helped to ease the tension. “What do you think, ladies? Is it my color?”
Mitch would look good in anything, in any color. She suppressed her sigh.
“You look like you’re wearing your jammies, Mr. Mitch.” Giggling, Mercy eyed him up and down.
Digging his wallet out of the bag with his clothes, Mitch gave the little girl money for the vending machine. Then he dropped into the chair beside her and told Cassie in whispered tones that Mercy’s grandmother should arrive momentarily. He also confirmed he’d spoken to the police.
