by Camille Eide
His weight should fall on her as soon as the truck moved.
I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. God, help him, please. He loves You. If You’re really there, do something. “Okay, push on three. One—two—three!” Sue readied herself to support his weight.
As the truck rolled back, the metal shop door screeched.
Joe slumped forward toward the hood.
Trembling, Sue supported his left side, while Bertie held him on the right.
Linda climbed down from the truck and went to Bertie’s side. “Careful. He may have internal injuries.”
Several of the girls sobbed.
“Linda, take the kids inside. Bertie?”
Sue was about to ease him down on the ground, but Joe pulled away from the women, braced both arms on the hood, and straightened himself.
“Joe?” Sue said, barely able to breathe. “Just take it easy. Where are you hurt?”
He sucked in some air, then stood free of the truck and looked around as if getting his bearings. Wobbling slightly, he turned and stared at the dented shop door. “Aluminum.”
“What?”
“Oh no, Sue. I think he has a concussion.” Bertie squinted up at him. “Try counting backward from a hundred.”
Sue laid a hand on his arm. “Joe, tell me where you’re hurt.”
He glanced around the shop, still looking dazed. “What happened?”
“You just got pulverized,” Bertie said. “But between the two of you, I think your pickup got the worst of it, big guy.”
Afraid of what she’d find, Sue reached over and gently felt his ribs, then his back. Nothing swollen, punctured, or bleeding. That she could see. “Hold still.” She lifted his T-shirt, exposing a solid, muscular stomach.
No blood or bruising—not yet, anyway. But he could have serious internal injuries.
Trembling, she pressed fingers into his belly. “Does this hurt?”
Joe smiled weakly. “Bertie, she’s just looking for an excuse to get her hands on me.” His chuckle turned into a sharp, pained cough.
“You could be critically hurt, Joe. You could’ve—”
Died.
The panic that had sent her running to the shop surged again like a firehouse siren. “Where are those paramedics?”
“I’m okay.” Joe worked up a crooked grin. “Tell Chaz it’ll take something a lot bigger than a pickup to take me down.”
Fear and anger swirled and raced through her like a hot whirlwind, giving her the shakes. “That is not funny. I thought you were dead!”
Joe’s face instantly sobered. “You did?”
“You were smashed by a truck, Joe. You don’t think that could be just a little bit deadly?”
“I don’t know, let’s see.” He pounded a fist on his chest a couple times and gave her a dimpled grin. “Guess not. Seriously, Sue, I’m okay. I think it just knocked the wind out of me.”
But the more Joe tried to make light of the incident and reassure her he wasn’t hurt, the more her panic rose, like a thunderstorm gathering strength. A storm of frightening emotions she couldn’t contain.
Something huge and bad was about to hit.
She spun and dashed out the door. A blast of cold air hit and she tore up the trail as fast as she could, desperate to put distance between her and the shop, to outrun the coming meltdown. She headed for the chapel and slipped inside just as the dam burst.
Conjoining waves of relief and fear pulled sobs out of her.
What was wrong with her? Was she totally losing it? She covered her face with her hands and tried to stop crying, but the waves kept coming.
A voice from outside cut through her sobs.
Shaking and gulping air, she stumbled to the far end of the room and ducked into a corner. Stop it. NOW.
The door opened and someone entered the chapel.
She pressed herself deep into the corner and clapped both hands over her mouth to keep the sounds from ratting her out, her breath coming in erratic bursts. Trying in vain to be quiet, she listened for the intruder.
* * *
Joe had followed Sue up the trail, still slightly dazed. The way she’d fled set off a warning bell. He’d seen her angry, but this was odd. When he slipped inside the chapel, muffled sounds carried from the far end of the room.
The sounds of someone crying.
Following the sound he moved toward the front.
Sue quivered in the corner.
He stopped a few feet from her, less dazed but now more confused than ever. She was clearly upset and trying to hide it. Upset with him?
No, she never bothered to hide her irritation with him before.
What then? “Sue?”
A gasp, then a hiccup.
He took a step closer but hesitated. Knowing Sue, she’d probably come out of her corner swinging.
Sue moved, now visible in a small shaft of light. Her cheeks and lashes glistened, her lips trembled.
He stepped closer and kept his voice low. “Don’t worry, Sue, I’ll fix the—”
Something he couldn’t identify mingled in the depths of her eyes. Definitely not anger. The rapid rise and fall of her chest and the way she looked at him nearly dropped him.
He swallowed hard to unlock his throat. “What’s wrong?”
In one move, she reached for him and buried her face in his chest, knotting his shirt in her fists.
Stunned, he folded her into his arms.
And she let him.
His chest tightened. Oh man …
“You scared me half to death, Joe.”
Her whisper sent a strange surge of hope through him. “Shh, it’s okay.” His heart pounded. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine now.”
She didn’t answer, just hid herself against him. She smelled sweet and clean, like breeze-dried cotton.
He held her tighter and murmured soothing sounds, cursing his hammering heart. She had to feel that.
Sue lifted her face and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. Her trembling lips remained parted, an easy distance from his.
Ohhh maaan …
A loose curl clung to her wet cheek.
With an unsteady hand, he reached up and gently stroked it away.
Her eyes drifted closed at his touch.
Lord, have mercy …
Heart thumping like concert speakers, he captured her mouth with his. Her lips, small but full and so soft, yielded to his, melting him instantly. He marveled at the tenderness and sweetness of her touch, the nearness of her. His hand slipped into her hair and caressed it.
A tiny sound escaped her.
It sent a ripple through him that threatened to tackle him at the knees. He cupped her face and kept kissing her, needing her warmth, needing that spark of caring he had seen in her eyes. He ached to know the tenderness he saw there, to feel it, drink it in. His mind lost everything but how amazing it felt to hold her.
At the sound of approaching sirens, her lips murmured against his. “Joe,” she whispered.
Her warm breath beside his mouth sent a pleasant tingle across his skin. Eyes closed, he touched his forehead to hers, trying to calm his raging heart and his powerful need to hold her and kiss her until she couldn’t see straight.
A small shove to his chest forced him off balance.
He opened his eyes, tried to focus in the semi-dark.
Sue tugged against his embrace, her eyes flashing fiery sparks.
“Sue? What—?”
She untangled herself from his arms and jabbed his pec with a finger. “Don’t do that again.” Sidestepping him, she scurried away like a trapped creature that had burst free.
His pulse still raged. “Don’t do what? Nearly get killed or kiss you?”
At the door, she turned. “Both!”
Chapter Twenty-One
He’s dying! God, if You’re there, please help him!
Sue woke with a gasp and tried to focus on the dim corridor. She’d dozed off in the hall chair. Faint rays of dawn peeked beneath a
bedroom door. She closed her eyes. The vivid nightmare of Joe being crushed to death by the truck lingered, reviving a haunting sense of dread. In her dream, she’d asked God to help Joe.
Only that part wasn’t a dream. She had asked God to help him.
When the medics who had responded to the 911 call looked Joe over, he’d checked out fine. Completely unharmed. What were the chances a person could come through a crazy ordeal like that without a scratch?
There was a simple explanation. There had to be.
And while we’re explaining things … There was the other incident. In the chapel. His arms surrounding her. The feeling of absolute safety. His tender, need-filled kisses.
Please tell me that was just part of the dream.
But like a homing beacon on a starry night, she couldn’t ignore the truth. That was no dream. Kissing Joe in the chapel had felt more real than anything had in a long time.
No. It was probably the combination of everything—from Joe being pinned by the truck to her panicked meltdown to Joe finding her and holding her like that, kissing her like that …
And not being afraid, and losing herself for a crazy moment, not wanting it to end …
The danger was over. So was the kiss. She needed to make absolutely sure there would be no more opportunities for that to happen again.
She woke the five upstairs girls, then headed downstairs and woke Daisy and Sonja, Ringo trailing her all the way. Once Daisy was dressed and ready to go, Sue went to the kitchen and started breakfast. But last night’s events had jangled her nerves and left her stomach in knots.
Had she witnessed an answer to prayer? Or a freak chance of really good luck?
And what about the chapel?
No. She was not thinking about that.
But you kissed him.
Right after your little psycho meltdown.
KISSED him.
Sue slammed the milk on the sideboard, sloshing some out of the pitcher and onto the floor.
Ringo lapped at the milk.
You’ve made a mess, Sooz. How’re you going to clean this up?
With a groan, Sue gathered cereal boxes and set them beside the milk.
Cori, Tatiana, and Brandi stumbled into the dining hall and started setting out bowls and tableware while the other girls arrived. The boys filed in together and took their places at the table. Hair combed, shoes tied. Not bad. Joe also smelled clean and was looking mighty—
Don’t look.
Avoiding his gaze, Sue did a head count.
Eleven. One boy missing. Chaz.
She went to the study, preparing her usual speech about taking a break from schoolwork and coming in to eat breakfast.
He wasn’t there.
She returned to the dining hall. “Where’s Chaz?”
Joe gave her a puzzled look. “Probably getting a jump on his schoolwork.”
“No, he’s not there. Did you see him leave the dorm?”
“Yeah. About half an hour ago.” He headed for the door. “I’ll check the dorm again.”
Sue did a quick search of the main house, then went out back.
Joe met her coming from the boys’ dorm. “He’s not there either.”
She nodded and avoided the raw question burning in his eyes. Whatever Joe wanted to discuss, she was not ready to deal with it. She hurried around the building to the front yard and then went inside the shop, averting her gaze from the crumpled shop door.
Just as she turned to leave, Chaz’s head popped up from behind Joe’s truck.
“Chaz? What are you doing?”
Pushing his glasses higher on his nose, he came out, clipboard in hand.
While Sue sent Joe a text saying she’d found the boy, Chaz circled the truck, tapping a pencil on the end of the clipboard in a rapid rhythm.
“Chaz?”
Muttering to himself, he stopped to scratch notes on his sheet.
She waited until the boy stopped his rounds and then laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”
“I had it all figured out.” Frowning, he pulled away from her touch and inspected the metal ramps that were knocked askew near the truck’s front tires. Jotted more notes.
Joe came in, closing the side door with a soft click.
“Maybe later you and Mister Joe can work all that out. Why don’t you come on inside and eat?”
Chaz hummed loudly and off-key. He circled the truck again, ignoring both adults.
“Chaz, Mister Joe can—”
The boy closed his eyes and kept humming.
Ah. Deflecting trauma.
“Chaz, listen. Mister Joe is okay. He’s not hurt, he’s right here. See?”
Chaz shook his head. “First, I need to figure out what went wrong. It must be in the truck’s variables. I didn’t have them all listed. The ramps failed …”
Sue turned to Joe.
He nodded. “Hey, Chaz. Let’s go over all your notes together after breakfast, okay?”
The boy shook his head and paced alongside the truck, breathing short bursts from flared nostrils. He shoved his glasses higher on his nose. “Can’t stay here,” he muttered. “I’m gonna get sent away again.”
“No, buddy. It’s okay. See?” Joe held up both arms. “No harm done. Accidents happen. You don’t need to go anywhere.”
Chaz stopped at the front of the truck and stared at the spot where Joe had been pinned.
Sue shuddered. The horror of seeing him in that spot was still too fresh for her as well.
“The door is an aluminum alloy.” Chaz lowered his clipboard to his side. He brought it up again and wrote as he spoke. “The metal is extremely pliable. Combined with J-man’s weight and overall mass, the majority of the impact was absorbed by the soft metal, thus lessening the probability of damage or injury.” He didn’t turn around, but kept staring at the mangled door.
Poor kid. Sue’s heart twisted.
Joe stepped closer to the boy. “Hey, it’s okay, man. God was looking out for me. He does that. He watches over us. Even when we make mistakes.”
Chaz didn’t move.
“And in case you’re wondering, I’m not mad. We’re cool, okay?”
The boy shot a glance over his shoulder at Joe, then focused on his clipboard and nodded. He turned and darted out of the shop.
Sue allowed her gaze to drift to the door.
“Don’t worry,” Joe said quietly. “I can fix that.”
Fix it? She could barely keep from cringing in horror at the memory of him trapped there, and all he cared about was fixing the stupid door? She wanted to close her eyes like Chaz and shut it out. All of it. The horror, the overwhelming relief that he was okay, the incredible sensation of kissing him, of being held for a fleeting moment like someone cherished.
But shutting her eyes and pretending it hadn’t happened wouldn’t make it go away.
“Joe, what happened last night in the chapel …”
His gaze brushed a stroke across her mouth before rising to meet her eyes.
The sound of a car motor and crunching gravel caught her attention. She went outside and Joe followed.
Layne emerged from her sedan, platinum blonde hair dazzling in the sun, dressed in her usual pencil skirt and tailored jacket.
Sue resisted the urge to look down at the baggy sweatshirt she was wearing and greeted Layne with a smile.
“Hey, Sue, look at you. I can’t even tell you injured that knee.” Layne smiled and then turned that gorgeous smile on Joe.
A little claw latched onto Sue’s heart and twisted.
“You must be Joe. I’m Layne Stevenson.” She offered her hand and he shook it. “My brother Dan talks very highly of you.”
Joe shook his head. “Dan’s a great guy. He’s the best driller and the most dependable guy I’ve ever worked with. How’s he doing?”
As Layne filled him in on her brother’s latest business venture, she touched her hair a lot.
Did she always do that when she talked to people?
Sue tried to remember.
“I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your other friend. David, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” A clouded look crossed over his face. “Dave’s in a better place now.”
Layne’s gaze traveled up to Joe’s hair. “After what you guys did for him, Dan decided he liked the shaved head look and kept it. Did you ever decide who won the bet?”
With a chuckle, Joe just shook his head, a flush creeping into his face.
“What bet?” Sue asked. This she had to hear.
Layne turned to Sue. “The way I heard it, when their friend was losing his hair to chemo, Joe bet he’d make a better looking bald guy than Dave and shaved his head for the duration of the treatment.”
“You did that, Joe?”
Joe shrugged. “Something like that.”
Layne examined Joe’s features as if judging for herself who could win a contest of good looks. “But then Dan caught on that Joe’s real plan was to make sure their friend didn’t go through his hair loss alone, so Dan shaved his head too. That was really awesome of you guys to do that.”
“Just guys goofing around.” Joe shrugged again, the color in his face deepening.
As he struggled with Layne’s praise in his quiet humility, Sue’s heart sank. How typical of Joe to do something like that for a friend. And how rotten of her to make the assumptions she had when she first met him. Like the paranoid assumption she’d made on top of Table Rock. Shame ignited her cheeks. Why were rash assumptions, panicked reactions, and irrational behaviors becoming frequent occurrences?
And why did they all seem to involve Joe Paterson?
Joe locked her gaze with that same deep, questioning look she’d seen earlier.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than a full-throttle ride on a long stretch of road. As far and as fast as that bike would go.
“Sue?”
Sue blinked at Layne. Apparently Layne was waiting for an answer.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“Why don’t we go into your office?”
The women left Joe and went inside. Layne took a seat on the other side of Sue’s desk. “So. Let’s brainstorm some income ideas.”
Sue sighed. “I’ve exhausted every idea I could think of. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you just worked your tail off to raise past due funds, but what you need are big guns for the long haul. A couple of big donors.”
