“Concussion protocol?”
“Tell him, Tilda.” Emily set Tilda on the mattress next to him.
She counted off on her stubby little fingers. “Stay in bed. Take it easy. No excursion.”
Exertion, Em mouthed.
He sat up a little higher and put his arm around Tilda’s shoulders
“Mommy said you needed us,” she told him seriously.
“I’ve needed you for a long time now, sweet thing.”
She smiled and hugged his neck.
“Caref—” Em began, but he held up a hand before she finished.
“It’s good, all good.” Tilda felt so tiny, so fragile in his arms. His heart filled with pure love. He couldn’t lose this little girl. The full force of that possibility had hit him like never before in those terrifying moments she’d spent in the water. The magnitude of it, the devastation. It just couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t survive it, and neither would Emily.
Tilda finished hugging him and sat back down beside him, simultaneously taking a brownie from the tray he hadn’t even looked at yet.
“Tilda, those are for your dad.”
“Daddies always share, Mom.” Leaning back on her pillow, she took a bite and chewed. Chocolate lined her lips. He felt himself tearing up.
Emily was looking at him, he realized, and he blinked his eyes dry and tried to distract himself by checking out the tray’s contents. The platter of cookies and brownies didn’t even tempt him, but the coffee, that looked like heaven. He reached for the mug and took a big sip of its dark, bitter goodness. “Oh, that’s fantastic. Thank you.”
Only then did he dare look Em’s way. She wasn’t fooled. Her eyes were searching, probing, maybe understanding what he was feeling. That must be what she’d been feeling in those moments when she’d arrived to see her baby being carried soaking wet from a raging river.
A tap on the door drew his gaze. Vidalia stood there, leaning in. “You all doing okay? Need anything?”
Emily looked her way and nodded. Then glanced pointedly at Tilda, lying curled up beside him.
“I sure could use some help downstairs,” Vidalia said, translating the message perfectly. “You wouldn’t want to give me a hand, would you Matilda?”
“Can I?” she asked.
“You sure can. I’ll bring you back up here to your dad in a few minutes, okay?” Vidalia held out her arms.
Tilda looked at her mom. Emily nodded, and then Joey got a peck on the cheek. “See you later, elevator!” She slid off the bed and shot out the door. Vidalia pulled it closed as she ran off after her.
“Think Vidalia can keep up?” he asked.
Emily had been looking at the closed door, but she turned to face him then. Before she could say anything, he said, “Sophie check her over?”
“Yeah. She’s fine. No harm done. Not even a bruise.”
“Thank God.”
“Thank you.” She moved closer to the bed. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. I was near hysterics, seeing her like that. I didn’t know or care what I was saying. It was wrong and I’m sorry, and I know it wasn’t your fault, and I am so damn grateful to you for saving her life…” She stopped talking, but he didn’t think it was by choice. More like her words got choked off.
“I’m sorry I let that happen.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Joey. I couldn’t have done any better if I’d been the one in the wagon with her. And you went into the water after her. And you haven’t gone into the water since you nearly drowned in the coy pond.”
“I couldn’t think of anything but getting to her.”
She lowered her head. “You’re a true father. You really are.”
He couldn’t talk. Couldn’t respond. His voice just left him, along with all his breath. He didn’t think a higher compliment existed.
Then she looked up. “Now, tell me what’s wrong. I can see there’s something.”
He pressed his lips, patted the side of the bed. “Sit down. Have a brownie with me. Drink some of my coffee.”
“There’s a whole pot downstairs.” But she sat down, took a chocolate chip cookie and a big sip of his coffee, then grimaced because it was black and bitter.
“You ever wonder what would have happened if you’d just told me?” he asked.
“It haunts me. I’ve been wondering that ever since I found out you didn’t really know. I’ve wondered it about a million times. I wake up at night wondering about it.”
He nodded slow. “I’d have asked you to marry me. That would’ve been my first instinct. Dad told us three our whole lives, from age eleven or so, when we thought he was being gross, ‘you make a girl pregnant, you marry her.’ I grew up with that drilled into my brain.”
She nodded. “I was so in love, I’d have said yes.”
“I’d have taken care of her while you finished school,” he said.
“But then your dad would’ve got sick and you’d have had to leave.”
“I’d have brought you with me.”
“I couldn’t have left. Not and had my career, my business.”
“We’d have found a way.” He took the tray off his lap and set it on the night stand.
She breathed slowly, deeply. “We were so young. Do you think we could’ve made it work? You and me? Together?”
“I don’t know. You’re right, we were younger. I was stupider. I really don’t know.”
“Maybe we’d have screwed it up,” she said. “Maybe it was too soon for us.”
“Maybe it’s not too soon anymore.” He slid his hands around hers, fisted there in her lap. “Maybe this could be a new start for us. Maybe this is the right time.”
She lifted her head, met his eyes and stared into them. “I still feel everything I did before,” she whispered. “Only…there’s so much more depth to be explored. It’s like looking into deep, dark water, getting ready to dive in. You just don’t know what you’re gonna find.”
“Respectfully, hon, you’re a whole lot darker and deeper than I am.” He opened his arms, palms up. “What you see is what you get. I don’t know how to not wear everything on my sleeve. I don’t know how to hide my feelings. My water is crystal clear. No hidden rocks or seaweed waiting to tangle you up on the bottom. I promise.”
She took a breath. “I’m full of jagged-edged rocks and probably even a few sharks.” Then her eyes plumbed his, and she said, “You’d be crazy to jump in.”
“I already jumped. I’m in the water. So…contain your sharks, woman.” He leaned forward, cupped her head, pulled her closer and kissed her long and slow and deep. His heart beat faster and he wrapped his arms more completely around her, pulling her closer.
“No strenuous activity for seventy-two hours,” she whispered against his mouth. “And absolutely no excursion.”
He smiled, but didn’t move his lips away from hers. He kissed her again, and again. Until she slid lower on the bed, out of his arms, out of his reach. Sighing, he lay back again and took a brownie from the bedside stand. “You restored my appetite.”
“Tell me what you and Doc Sophie were talking about when Tilda and I got there,” she said. “I could see it wasn’t good. And if those tears in your eyes when you were holding her earlier were from the same cause, then….”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, but then he decided he had to.
“Sophie has most of the test results back,” he said, and he could see her bracing. “So far, no one’s a match.”
Her spine went stiffer. He could see her steeling herself, trying to be strong. “Most of the results? Who’s still out?”
“Mine, Dad’s, and Jason’s.
She lowered her head. “Selene didn’t match then?”
“No.”
“That means your father won’t either. She was his donor, you said.”
He nodded.
“So we’re down to two chances,” she said.
He shook his head. “Plus twenty-six,” he said. “Vidalia’s family in Texas i
s getting tested. A bunch of them are coming up for Christmas.”
She frowned. “Because of Tilda?”
He shrugged. “She’s the newest member of their family. And she’s in trouble. Their family motto is ‘when one Brand is in trouble, every Brand is in trouble.’ And to them, she’s a Brand.”
She stared into his eyes. “She’s a McIntyre.”
“That’s true. And that means she’ll be fine. One McIntyre already beat this thing. A precedent’s been set.”
“Blood relatives are her best chance, Joey.”
“But not her only chance,” he said. “You hang in there. She’s not sick yet.”
She nodded, slid higher up on the bed, snuggled into the circle of his arm. It felt good holding her there, right up until he started looking around the room and seeing it through her eyes.
“I was going to gut the whole second story, turn it into a giant bachelor pad.”
“I can imagine.”
He nodded. “But now I’ve decided to leave it as is.”
“You gonna keep living in a glorified hotel room?”
He shook his head. “I’m gonna build a house.” He nodded toward the rear-facing window. “Out that way. There’s twenty acres. Plenty of room. I’ll make a fenced-in back yard and get a big slobbery dog.”
She smiled, staring out the window, envisioning it, he thought. “That’s nice.”
“It will be.” He rolled onto his side, so he could stare down into her eyes. “Move in here,” he said. “We have an empty room.”
“You want to move Tilda from a beautiful Inn with no other guests and a backyard playground to a room above a bar?”
“It’s not that kind of a bar.”
“It’s still a bar. No playground. No privacy. No room.” She made a face. “I think you see my dilemma here.”
“I do.”
She heaved a sigh and said, “Besides, I don’t want to move too fast, Joe. I don’t want to get her hopes up only to have things not work out.”
He could see plainly in her eyes that she wasn’t just talking about Tilda there. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. So…you wanna go into Tucker Lake with me tomorrow? We’ll do some Christmas shopping, maybe go out to lunch, make a day of it.”
“I don’t know, Joey. That sounds a lot like an excursion.”
He grinned and kissed her again.
Emily slid to her feet when they heard footsteps in the hall. She smoothed her clothes and faced the door as it opened. Tilda walked in, clutching Vidalia’s hand. “Well now, it’s all worked out! Isn’t it?”
“Shoooore is,” Tilda sang.
“What’s all worked out?” Joey asked. He reached out and clasped Emily’s hand, gave it a warning squeeze. Vidalia’s eyes had that certain sparkle in them that they got sometimes.
“The Texans are comin’,” Vidalia explained.
“The Texans are comin’, the Texans are comin’!” Tilda danced around the room. “We have more aunties and uncles and cousins, Mommy! Lots of them, and they’re all comin’ for Christmas!”
“That’s right," Vidalia said. “Joey, we’re going to need every room in the Long Branch and at Ida Mae’s, and every spare bedroom the rest of us can vacate. Dax is already packing up. He’s gonna bunk in with Jason, since he’s a bachelor, out at that falling-down smithy shop of his. And the three of you are going to stay in the old hunting cabin, up near the falls.”
“The three of us?” Emily parroted.
“What old hunting cabin?” Joey asked. “I never heard of any old hunting cabin.”
“Belonged to my first husband,” Vidalia said. “Been on the market for years. Betty Lou’s been keeping it up for us. You’ve met Betty Lou, Emily.”
“I treated her dog.”
“She’s our town realtor. Great lady. Anyway, that cabin is perfectly usable, just so far off the beaten path it doesn’t appeal to most buyers. Well, Betty Lou’s getting it ready for you tonight. And the girls and I will do our thing, you know.”
Emily sent Joey a look that plainly asked what their thing was.
“It’s the perfect spot,” Tilda said dramatically. “We’ll have our own tree!”
“It’s only for the next few days. Oh, and it’s a really cozy place. You’ll love it!”
“And Grammy V’s gonna tell Santa, so he can find us.” Tilda put a hand beside her mouth and stage whispered, “She knows him.”
“We’ll move you in tomorrow,” Vidalia said, then sent an apologetic look at Emily. “I know this is a terrible inconvenience, dear. And of course you can say no if you want to, I just…” she shrugged. “I don’t know, call me old fashioned, but I just feel Tilda will be so much happier in a real home with her own tree and decorations for Christmas. Don’t you?”
“I…” she looked at Joey, then at Tilda.
“Please, Mommy?”
Vidalia watched her with raised eyebrows, then said, “Emily?” and inclined her head toward the hallway.
She wanted a private word, so Emily ducked out into the hallway, and Vidalia closed the door. Joey wondered what was being said out there. Emily hadn’t had a mother figure, ever, that he knew of. And Vidalia tended to want to be everyone’s. Even poor pathetic, heartbroken Dax down the hall.
The door opened, and Emily came back in alone. She met his eyes. He said, “Well?”
She sighed. “Well, we’re moving into a hunting cabin tomorrow.”
“Yay!” Tilda was smiling ear to ear. “Just like a real family!”
#
Emily and Tilda packed up all their stuff—and it was a lot of stuff—and hauled their bags down the stairs to the van, one by one. Ida Mae was wringing her hands and looking worried the whole time. She stood on the front porch, gingham dress, white apron, silver gray hair like a cap made of curls. She was the epitome of a small-town innkeeper.
“I’m real sorry you’re being put out like this,” she said, following them outside, but remaining on the porch as they loaded the van. “I just don’t understand why Vidalia would ask it of you. Those Texas Brands could just as easily bunk in the hunting cabin themselves.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Emily said. “But then I had a private talk with her. The truth is, she’s worried about Joey. That was a pretty serious blow to the head he took. She wants to make sure someone’s close by to keep an eye on him.”
“Joey?” Ida Mae’s worried look vanished. One eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Joey’s staying at the cabin with you?”
“That’s the plan.”
The older woman’s face broke into a delighted smile, all hint of worry gone. “That’s nice. I mean, it’ll be nice for Tilda.” And then she sent a quick glance at Tilda and a hint of her former worry returned to her eyes. “She’s doing all right?”
Joey had been right when he’d said that everyone in town knew about Tilda’s condition, her prognosis and the search for donors. And before too long, they’d probably all know about Emily’s new living arrangements, as well. Nobody in Big Falls seemed too concerned about privacy. And yet it wasn’t a busybody kind of a place. It was more…it was more like they just all cared. A lot.
“I’ll miss you, young lady,” Ida Mae said. “You’d better come by for tea and cookies in the sun room every now and then.”
Tilda smiled brightly. “I promise!” Then she ran back up the porch steps and gave Ida Mae a big hug. Em thought Ida Mae got a little misty before Tilda raced back to the van, jumped in, and got into her car seat without any help at all.
Emily walked up the porch steps and Ida Mae hugged her, too. “Joey’s a good man,” she said to Emily.
“I know that, Ida Mae.”
Then she sniffled and said, “You should bring her to church soon, so everyone who’s been praying for her has the chance to meet her.”
She blinked. “They’ve been praying for her?”
“Ever since you got here. Vidalia’s prayer group has met at the church every night this week to peti
tion our Lord on behalf of that little angel.” She shrugged. “We do that from time to time when we need big help.”
Emily blinked, her eyes getting hot. “Does it work?”
“You’d be surprised how often it does. You keep your chin up, Emily. You’ve gotta have faith.”
She didn’t have. She hadn’t had faith in much of anything since Tilda’s diagnosis. But coming here…her faith in Joey had been restored, her faith in his father was beginning to heal. Her faith in family, in friends…that was coming together too. She was even beginning to find a level of acceptance for what her father had done, if not quite forgiveness. She was closer. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Thank you. For bringing Tilda here to us. And for helping Betty Lou with her dog. She’s part of the prayer group too, you know. Oh, and Rollo is feeling much better today, thanks to you.”
“I’m glad I had antibiotics on hand for him. Tell her Rollo needs to stay away from road kill from now on.”
She went back to the van, got in and pulled away. Ida Mae waved until they were out of sight, and Emily sighed. She was starting to love this town. These people. She was starting to feel as if this might be the right place to raise her little girl, if she was lucky enough to have that chance.
Following Vidalia’s directions, Emily turned off Main Street and drove up, up, up, over winding dirt roads without any road signs, that twisted through the hilliest part of the state. She couldn’t stop imagining Vidalia and her friends, women like Ida Mae and Betty Lou, mature women, wise women, the matriarchs of Big Falls, led by their pastor, gathering at that beautiful country church to pray for Tilda. It was a wonderful image, and it felt warm in her chest.
It wasn’t hard to spot the cabin. There were two mini-vans and two pickup trucks, one of them Joey’s, parked wherever there was room. They’d left her a spot in the driveway, which she appreciated.
It was a log cabin, one story, with big windows. The logs had aged to a dark, rich brown, and the stuff in between the logs was bleached white, creating a contrasting look that was somehow beautiful. A big cobblestone chimney rose up on one side. Add a little snow and put a wreath on the door, and it could be a Currier and Ives Christmas Card.
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