The screen door squeaked open and slammed shut and Tristan suddenly capitulated. He shrugged, tugged a lock of Emily’s hair and opened the passenger door to the rental. “I’ll ride with you, then,” he announced.
“What a nut,” Emily grumbled as she went around to the driver’s side of her rental. Then she noticed what she hadn’t before, because Tristan had been acting so impossible. Jefferson stood several feet away, his legs braced and his weight obviously leaning on the cane. The sunlight struck him full in the face and his eyes were narrowed as he watched Emily.
Her throat went dry. He looked so…alone. Even standing mere feet away from his passel of brothers. She moistened her lips. His name was a whisper on her lips.
“Yo, Jeff!” Daniel called as he climbed into the rear seat of Matthew’s Blazer. “Load it up, man.”
Jefferson’s head slowly swiveled to the other vehicle. Emily could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, and he finally moved over to the truck, climbing into the front passenger seat. His door slammed shut and Emily lowered herself into the rental.
Tristan’s knees were practically buckled up beneath his chin. “You just gonna sit here, or are we going to follow Matt to the hospital?”
She started the engine and placed her hands on the sun-heated steering wheel, flexing her fingers. “I don’t know if I can handle this,” she muttered.
“Seeing Squire in the hospital?” Tristan reached around under the seat and managed to scoot it back a few more precious inches. “You’ll manage just fine.” He reached over and flipped on the air-conditioning.
“I don’t mean just Squire,” Emily admitted as she followed the Blazer away from the ranch.
“You’ll manage Jefferson, too, sweet pea.”
She choked on a miserable laugh. “That’ll be a first.”
Chapter Five
The visitation policy in the Intensive Care Unit would allow only two family members in at a time. Emily was shaking so badly that she thought she might he sick, and she was glad when Matthew and Sawyer went first. She, Jefferson, Daniel and Tristan remained in the waiting room located around the corner from ICU. The room was nearly full of people, and they had to split up in order to find a seat.
It took Daniel all of two minutes before he rose again, obviously restless. He murmured something to Jefferson and strode out of the room. Minutes later, she saw him outside through the windows that overlooked a small grassy area behind the hospital.
He stood with his back to the building, his dark gold hair ruffling in the faint breeze. He lit a cigarette, then moved abruptly and strode out of sight.
Emily looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. She smoothed the cuff of her off-white linen shorts. A teenager turned on the television situated in the corner of the room. The phone rang. The two people sitting to her left con tinued discussing an article they’d read in that morning’s newspaper.
She looked up, her gaze colliding with Jefferson’s. His expression inscrutable, he didn’t bother hiding the fact that he’d been studying her. She wished that she’d worn something with sleeves. The sleeveless vest that matched her shorts was cool and comfortable. But it also revealed the fading yellow outline of the bruises he’d left on her arms. A movement in the doorway caught his attention, and he looked away briefly. Long enough for her to see that muscle in his jaw. Still ticking.
Matthew and Sawyer returned. Emily looked closely at them, her stomach clenching anew at their expressions. She rose nervously, and Sawyer closed his palm over her shoulder.
“Daniel went in a minute ago,” Sawyer told them. Tristan rose instantly and headed to ICU. Sawyer squeezed her shoulder once more, then left, saying he needed some coffee.
A middle-aged couple departed, emptying the two seats next to Jefferson. Matthew nudged her toward them, taking the seat in the middle between her and Jefferson.
“What’s he like this morning?” Jefferson asked.
“The nurse said he had a good night,” Matthew answered. “And his color’s quite a bit better.”
Jefferson twirled his came between his palms. “Still unconscious?”
Matthew nodded. His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and he leaned his head back against the wall behind the chairs.
Emily twisted the narrow leather strap of her small purse into a knot. “How did it happen? I mean, has Squire been having heart problems all along? He never said anything. Did he?”
“Not a word.” Matthew stretched his legs out before him and crossed his ankles. He clasped his hands together across his flat stomach and looked down at his thumbs. “But we all know Squire. He never gives anything away. Turns out he’s been seeing a cardiologist here in Casper for the past couple years. Anyway, he’d ridden Carbon out to do some fishing.”
Jefferson’s head lifted at the horse’s name. He himself had bought the ornery young colt many years ago. Back when he’d still been in Squire’s good graces. Before he’d made the mistake of sharing his conflicting feelings toward Emily with Squire.
“Near as we can tell,” Matthew continued, “he found some downed fence. Stock was probably straying.” He pressed his thumbs together. “Instead of riding back and sending someone else out to round ’em up and fix the fence, he stayed and did it himself.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Carbon came back alone. When we found Squire, he was unconscious. Lying next to the fence he’d repaired. The wire cutters were still in his hand.” He shook his head. “Damned stubborn old man.”
Suddenly his legs jackknifed and he stood. “I need some fresh air.”
Emily glanced across the empty seat at Jefferson. His chin was propped on his fist, his thumb moving across his tight lips. His bad leg was stretched out straight, the tip of his boot rhythmically ticking an inch or so back and forth. His attention was focused ahead.
She wished he’d say something. Anything. And called herself a coward for not being able to say anything herself. Tears threatened again and she blinked rapidly. Crying was not going to do anybody a bit of good. She pulled a tissue from her purse and surreptitiously wiped her eyes and nose.
Jefferson’s arm reached across the empty space between them and he took her hand in his, threading her fingers through his own. She shot him a startled glance. His attention was still focused forward. But his palm was warm and dry against hers.
For now, it was enough.
Before long, Daniel returned. “Tristan went to talk to the cardiologist himself,” he told them. “You guys can go in now.”
Jefferson let go of her hand, and Emily tried not to feel bereft. She drew in a steadying breath and rose. She placed the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Without waiting for Jefferson, Emily walked over to the swinging doors leading into ICU. She paused, then straightened her shoulders and pushed through the doors. She hadn’t been raised like a Clay for nothing. She knew Jefferson was right behind her but didn’t let herself focus on that. If she did, she knew she’d fall apart.
The nurses’ station was situated in the center of the unit, with the beds radiating out like spokes of a wheel. Glass walls separated the beds from each other, but only heavy white curtains separated the beds from the nursing station. Squire was in the very first “room.” She saw him as soon as she cleared the double doors, and stopped short.
Jefferson nearly bumped into her, and he closed his hand over the back of her neck.
Emily swallowed and moved out from his touch, entering Squire’s cubicle. Tubes snaked out of his nose and his arms, and machines surrounded his bed. If it weren’t for all that, she’d have suspected that he was merely sleeping. His thick silvered hair sprang back from his chiseled forehead, and he was slightly pale beneath his permanently tanned skin. A stark white bandage covered most of his bare chest and a pale blue sheet covered him to his waist.
“Do you think he knows we’re here?”
Jefferson nodded and moved around to the opposite side of the bed. He was leaning hard on the cane.
Now that she’d s
een Squire, Emily didn’t feel quite so terrified. Her instincts told her that everything would be all right. Hoping that those instincts weren’t leading her astray, she sank into the chair situated next to the bed and gently touched Squire’s hand.
She leaned over to kiss his weathered cheek. “Squire, it’s Emily. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to get us home for a visit, you know.” She looked up at Jefferson. His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed as he looked down at his father. She positively ached with his buried pain. Squire wasn’t the only Clay man who found it hard to “give anything away” as Matthew had put it earlier.
All too quickly, their allotted five minutes were up, yet Jefferson hadn’t said a word to his father. Emily felt like crying. Or hitting him. Either one would have made her feel better. She squelched both urges and pressed a gentle kiss to Squire’s cool cheek, promising him that she’d return soon to see him.
The rest of the men were back in the waiting room. Emily took one look at Tristan, and the tears started squeezing out of her eyes again. He enclosed her in his gentle bear hug, and she only cried harder. As much as she loved Tristan, it was Jefferson’s arms she wanted around her. But he was standing over by the window, his expression brooding as he watched the rest of them.
“Why don’t we head across the street to that restaurant and grab some lunch. Then you all could go on back to the ranch,” Sawyer suggested, his eyes playing over his brothers and Emily. “I can stick around here, and somebody can come and get me tonight when visiting hours end.”
Daniel needed no second urging. He was nodding and heading outside almost before Sawyer finished speaking. Matthew was obviously torn, wanting to stay. Needing to go. He had work to take care of.
“Emily?” Tristan nudged her for her opinion.
She swiped her cheeks and nodded tiredly.
Sawyer caught Jefferson’s glance, who shrugged. “Okay then.”
They all trooped out and headed for the restaurant. It took several minutes for them to set up a table to accommodate all six of them. Despite Emily’s best efforts, she ended up seated next to Jefferson. That’s what she got for stopping first at the rest room to freshen her face.
Tristan sat directly across the table from Jefferson, and he smiled blandly. She could have kicked him, knowing that he was responsible for the seating arrangement.
The young waitress took one look at the men sitting around the table and brightened. Emily had to bite back a chuckle when, after returning with their orders of iced tea all around, the girl, “I’ll be your server—call me Candy,” had freshened her pale lipstick and loosened the top few buttons of her fitted pink uniform.
She opened the laminated menu and automatically glanced over the selections, even though she wasn’t sure her stomach really wanted food. She closed the menu and laid it on the table alongside her tea.
“Decided already?” Daniel’s menu was lying on the table also and he nudged the container of artificial sweetener toward her. “Let me guess. French dip. Right?”
She took a little packet and ripped it open, pouring it into her tea. “Call me consistent.”
“Consistent!” Tristan chuckled. “She’s ordered that for lunch or supper in damn near every restaurant we’ve ever been in since she was ten years old.”
“So?” Emily wasn’t fazed in the least. “I can’t help it if I know what I like.”
She felt Jefferson shift beside her. When she glanced at him, he was leaning over to retrieve his napkin from the floor.
“Well,” she pulled her attention back from the way his navy blue shirt stretched taut across his long back, “you’d better decide yourself what you want mighty quick. Before Candy, there, comes back to get the order.”
Daniel sipped his tea and looked across the room to where the waitress was taking an order from a young family. “Whatcha want to bet she’s gonna have another button undone when she comes back?” He set his glass down and leaned slightly forward. “She’ll lean over your shoulder again, Tris, and give you a real view.”
Matthew shook his head. Sawyer looked bored. Tristan laughed. Jefferson shifted again, and his knee brushed against hers.
When Candy returned, Daniel won the bet.
That day set the pattern for the ones that followed. They’d all go to the hospital in the same two vehicles. They had lunch at the same restaurant each day. Then they’d all return to the ranch, with one of the brothers staying behind. The second day, Daniel volunteered to stay. On the third, Matthew. And so it went. For the next several days.
Five days passed since she’d first seen Squire in the hospital before she found herself back in Squire’s cubicle with Jefferson. Somehow, between the two of them avoiding each other, they’d managed to not say three words to each other since that first day at the hospital. She’d been sure not to sit next to him at the restaurant. Only, she’d found it nearly as heartbreaking to watch him over lunch as it had been to sit beside him.
She’d nearly fallen off her waiting room chair when Jefferson said he’d accompany her to ICU that morning.
Tristan shot her a brows-raised look, but nobody else seemed to think anything of Jefferson’s quiet comment.
So that’s how she came to be sitting once again in Squire’s room, with Jefferson holding up the wall on the opposite side of the bed. It no longer surprised her that he didn’t seem inclined to say anything.
But she was determined not to brood over Jefferson. At least not in Squire’s ICU cubicle. “Squire, we really want you to wake up,” she said in a clear voice, after kissing him hello. “Matt needs to know about an invoice he got for some equipment it looks like you ordered. And I’m sure I saw Daniel trying to sneak a smoke earlier. You know how hard it was for him to quit last year.” She pushed out her lip and glanced toward Jefferson. He wasn’t looking at the man in the bed. He was staring at Emily, his eyes dark and unreadable.
She swallowed and moistened her lips. “I’m going to run out of leave time from work next week and I expect you to be up by then,” she continued. “Joe Greene’s got a crew in now. Combining should be done this week.”
She picked up his cool hand and smoothed her thumb over the back. “There’s a pretty nurse just a few feet away,” she wheedled. “If you’d just wake up, I’ll bet you’d have her swept off her feet in no time at all with just one look from those blue eyes of yours.”
She slid a glance over her shoulder at the two nurses manning the desk just a few feet away. One was very definitely a man. The other nurse’s gray hair was so tightly curled next to her head that it almost looked like wool, and she looked about two days away from retirement. “She’s got long auburn hair, Squire.”
She ignored Jefferson’s raised eyebrows. “And beautiful green eyes,” she added for good measure. “But you should wake up and see for yourself.”
She fell silent for a few moments. Jefferson still said not a word. “Bird’s looking real good,” she said. “You were right about his temperament when we picked him out at that auction. But I’m still glad we didn’t have him gelded. His bloodline would be good to breed. You’re gonna have to get well quick, though, or by the time I get back, he won’t be fit to ride for a month of Sundays.”
She fell silent as the male nurse entered the room. He smiled cheerfully and after looking at the machines, made a few notations on the chart at the foot of Squire’s bed, then left again.
Emily lifted Squire’s hand and held it to her cheek. She closed her eyes. “Jefferson’s here too, Squire,” she finally said. “He’s right here on the other side of your bed. Actually, he looks almost worse than you do.” She opened her eyes, defiantly ignoring the glint that had appeared in Jefferson’s. “He’s added a couple of new scars to his ugly mug. Maybe if you’d wake up, he’ll tell you what he’s been doing the past few years.”
Jefferson snorted. “Not likely.”
“Ah, he speaks,” Emily quipped. Squire’s fingers flexed against hers, as if in agreement. Startled, s
he looked at the man in the bed. “Squire?”
“What is it?”
“He moved his hand, Jefferson.” She leaned closer to Squire. “Squire, can you hear me? Squeeze my fingers again. Oh, please Squire, just squeeze my fingers again.”
She nearly shot out of the chair when she felt the faint pressure against her fingers. She leaned forward and kissed Squire’s cheek again. “I’m going to get the nurse,” she said and gently laid Squire’s hand back on the mattress.
Jefferson readjusted his grip on the cane. He could see Emily talking urgently to the older nurse. “Come on, old man,” he said softly. “I didn’t come all the way here to keep watching you lie in that bed like a sack of feed.”
Emily stuck her head back in. “Has he moved again? Oh, for God’s sake, Jefferson, sit down and hold his hand!” She went back to the nurse’s station.
“I guess she told me, didn’t she.” Jefferson couldn’t help the slight grin on his face as he did as she’d ordered. Well, he sat down, at least. He didn’t hold his father’s hand. He knew it wouldn’t be what Squire wanted.
“She can be pretty bossy, you know. Emily. Must be the Clay influence.” He looked for a long time at his father, then propped his elbows on the edge of the bed. “I know you can hear me, Squire. Maybe hearing me talk to you will be annoying enough that you’ll get your old carcass up and out of this place.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, his eyes skipping over the monitors. God, he hated hospitals. Hated the antiseptic smell. The quiet noises. “I know I heard every damned word they whispered around me when I was in the hospital a while back.” It was amazing how easily the words came when Squire was helpless to respond. “Blasted medical people,” he continued. “Talking about you like you’re dead, when all along you know exactly what’s going on. Even if the old bod doesn’t let you get it across to them.”
Emily stepped up behind him, her clean scent enveloping him. She laid her hand across his shoulder as she leaned forward. “Squire, your doctor’s going to be here soon. Promise me that you’ll prove to him that I didn’t imagine you squeezing my hand.”
Stay... Page 9
