Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found)

by Henrick, Ruthie

  “This car’s almost out of warranty. I want to find a new one for you, something safe.” He jiggled and tugged, scowling into the dark recess. “The old girl needs a tune-up for now, though. I’ll trade vehicles with you one day this week, have Steve in the shop take a look at it.”

  Now he wanted to talk. And about the car, no less. Go figure. She paused on her way back into the house. “Are you hungry?”

  Ben slammed the hood back in place. “Not yet. Keep dinner easy. I’ve got a stop to make first, then I’ll get Trey.”

  Jake scowled into the darkened interior of his car. He needed a life. No, not just a life, a different life. Of the upgraded, new-and-improved variety.

  For fifteen years now he’d been hanging out, waiting. Surviving obscurely in the periphery of his own existence.

  Well, fuck that.

  Okay, so maybe he had women when he wanted them. Hell, he never claimed to be a saint. But they were merely diversions. An easy way to kill a few days, a few weeks at best. No relationships, no commitments, those were words to live by.

  But his life needed purpose. Next week was his birthday, and nothing made a person question their presence in this world like a birthday. Starting now, he was making changes. Moving on. He may be satisfied with his professional life—most days even proud—but his personal life was in the shitter.

  The company he ran with Ben—a company they built with hope and sweat—thrived. And at the end of the day Ben went home to Allie and Trey. But at the end of his day who did he have at home? Nobody, not even a dog.

  He was no longer a young man. The man in the mirror nowadays wore gray peppered in his temples and reading glasses tucked in his shirt pocket. He was now a middle-aged male—and lonely. It was past time to find someone to share his life with. What the hell was he waiting for anyway?

  He sighed loudly. Didn’t want to think too deeply about that.

  “Sure hope that frown’s not for me, sugar.”

  Jake jerked back to the present. Slipped his fingers around her hand and pressed it against her bare thigh. “Of course not. Guess I zoned out.”

  A sheaf of wheat blonde fell forward as Michelle stretched to turn down Brad Paisley, and the country superstar’s tune lowered to a hum. “I surely have been looking forward to slipping away with you.” Turned to face him, melted chocolate-colored eyes danced with excitement. “The bright lights, the action; I haven’t been to Vegas in years.” An Atlanta transplant, Michelle’s voice dripped honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms. Her smile was seductive and inviting, even if he suspected it was practiced, yet Jake was glad they’d made a plan for the weekend. Michelle was intelligent and witty. And her long, long legs were incredibly sexy. He wished he cared.

  He was first introduced to Michelle Lauder nearly two months ago. A senior engineer with Lauder and Martin, her firm provided consulting work on Rancho Encantado, T-Squared’s latest housing development. This weekend was his chance to get away from Phoenix. Away from the reminder that every year for fifteen years they had a special anniversary trip and he had nothing.

  It was a five hour drive from Phoenix to Las Vegas. The glow of city lights appeared in the distance, bouncing off the low-lying clouds in the night sky, Jake settled into the seat of his luxury sedan. The CD changed in the player. George Strait.

  “More country, Jake? Let’s try something different.” Michelle removed the CD, replaced it with Bach.

  Bach? Where the hell did she find that?

  Thankfully, his torture was short-lived as he pulled up to the hotel—a glamorous marble and white light property that was charging him enough to feed a third world country for an entire year. He handed his keys to the valet and rounded the hood even as an energetic bellman loaded their suitcases onto a wheeled cart. The polished floor of the luxurious lobby reflected the glistening light from the glow of an opulent crystal chandelier as he steered an unimpressed Michelle to the reception desk and gave the attendant his name.

  Trailing the bellman through the open door of their room Jake’s eyes followed Michelle in the muted light of a crystal lamp as she investigated the opulent room, trailing one manicured finger over the silk duvet covering the king sized bed then stepping closer to the closed door of the balcony. He let the bellman out with a tip and nearly tripped over their luggage, lined up like soldiers in the suite.

  He had one small bag. He raised his eyebrows at Michelle’s two large suitcases. “What could you possibly need in so many bags, Michelle? It’s Friday night. We’re only staying until Sunday.”

  She turned away from the view of the strip, lifted a negligent shoulder. “Just the essentials, sugar. A little of this, a little of that.”

  He started to argue, but the words backed up in his throat. This was not a battle he’d win. Might as well check out the view instead.

  With a dismissive toss Michelle’s designer handbag landed on a nearby chair. Following him onto the terrace, she wordlessly slipped her arms around his waist. She had his shirt untucked, his belt unbuckled before he stopped her, took her hand and led her back inside. This was the start of his new life—he was damned if we wasn’t going to enjoy it.

  Allie waved goodbye as Ben backed down the driveway. Collected more laundry and slid chef salads into the refrigerator to chill. With a second load of wet clothes tumbling in the dryer, she glanced at the clock on the way through the kitchen. What kept Ben? He was probably hashing out the upcoming Rotary project with Maddie’s husband, Michael. As good friends, they’d worked on committees together for years.

  With hair still wet from her shower, Allie switched on lamps as she wandered the house. It was fully dark outside now so she flipped on the front porch light before heading back to her room. Her cell phone rang in the kitchen. She ran barefoot to grab it from her purse.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom. I thought you guys were coming to get me.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Dad left right after I talked to you; he should be there any minute.” Why wasn’t he there yet? “I’ll see where he is and call you back.”

  Inexplicably, her heart raced. Her palms became moist and an uncomfortable foreboding settled in her midsection. She paced the kitchen floor as Ben’s cell phone repeatedly went to voicemail.

  She tried Jake. She could count on him to reassure her.

  “Jake Taylor.”

  “Hi, it’s Allie.”

  “Hey there, back already?”

  “Um, yes.” She paused a moment to take a breath, leveled out her voice. “Have you spoken to Ben?”

  “Nah, I told him not to bug me this weekend. I was out of town, too. Just pulling into my garage. Is everything all right?”

  She blew out another quiet, steadying breath. “Probably. But he left to pick up Trey hours ago and hasn’t shown up yet. He’s not answering his phone.”

  “I’m sure everything’s fine.” Jake’s voice was calm, comforting. She focused on that. “Keep trying, he’ll answer.”

  “Sure, you’re right.” This was silly. Ben and Trey would come crashing in the door any minute. But the knot in her stomach was growing. “Sorry to bother you.”

  She tried Ben’s cell again.

  Ben slowed, rounded the corner behind a cherry red compact, joined the scattering of vehicles already cruising down Grand. Tension radiated through his shoulders, and down his spine, but the deed was done. He’d met his demon head on. Guilt snaked through his veins, so familiar anything else would be abnormal.

  He was liberated, free. And the loss gutted him. A hot flash of shame flared and he beat back the flame until it was no more than embers, stuffed into a corner of his mind. He wouldn’t allow them to die, though. They would glow and flicker again from time to time. And he would drag them out, allow them to rekindle.

  After so many years he was granted a reprieve—which was more than he deserved. His lips thinned as he pressed them together. The admission was ruthless, yet true. Activating his turn signal, he veered into the left lane. His si
gh rose from the depths of his soul. A fresh slap of remorse carried with it tears that burned the back of his throat and stung his eyes.

  He slowed his pickup as he neared a red light, scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d been gone longer than he expected. Would Trey wonder where he was? Would Allie worry? Starting today he was theirs and theirs alone—no more business trips.

  He needed his wife, to hear her voice, to say her name. He dug in his shirt pocket for his phone. She would hear the change in his voice, the contentment so different than his frustrated words of the day before. He allowed a fleeting tilt of his lips. Allie deserved to be happy.

  “Oh, Allie.” He breathed her name aloud. She didn’t deserve his deceit. Yet deceive her he had. For years he lived in dread of the shadowy secret that dwelled between them. He’d tried to share it with her—so many times he tried—but in the end he shrank from tainting her with his… predicament.

  He let his eyes sweep the seat beside him. The bouquet of sunflowers and bottle of wine were for her. He had apologies to make. The naked yearning on her face as she watched the baby in the restaurant yesterday was tortuous to him. He’d discounted her feelings for too many years. Because he was a selfish, self-centered, ass. Completely in love with his wife, certainly. But still an ass.

  Did she even realize she did that—ogle the babies like they’re the last chocolate in the box? Probably not. She was right all along, there was no reason they couldn’t—shouldn’t—have another child. He could only shake his head. Shit, she was always right.

  A baby after all this time? His heart landed in his lap. Nerves? Excitement? Fear? Yeah, he was full of all that. This was scary stuff. He’d put her off for so long. But starting tonight, if she was still game—if she still wanted a baby—he was in.

  He flipped his phone open with a thumb and spared a quick glance at the street around him. The only traffic was an older guy in a safe-looking foreign sedan slowing in the lane beside him. Allie needed a new car. She might like something like that, cruising around town with an infant buckled in the back.

  The light changed from red to green as he approached. He pressed his foot to the gas, glanced down to dial.

  At the unrelenting blare of a horn, his eyes winged up. Oh, shit. He yanked the wheel, launched forward against his restraint and held on as his truck spun across the intersection in a dizzying loop. There was no time for thought as he pitched back and forth, assaulted by the squeal of tires, the smell of rubber burning against asphalt, the deafening crunch of metal and a garish shower of broken glass.

  Allie! No time to think of her, yet she was with him. In the noise, which surrounded him. In the blood, which covered him. In the pain, which sliced through him. And then finally—when all was silent—in the darkness, which enveloped him.

  Driving for five hours left his legs cramped and his head fuzzy, but these laps in the pool were both clearing the cobwebs and stretching him out. Jake flip-turned at the wall and glided toward the steps with long strokes. Enough was enough. He had an ice cold longneck and a lounge chair calling his name.

  The ringing of his cell phone cut into the night. From habit, he checked the display. “Hey girl, did you give him hell?”

  No response. But he could hear her. Her breathing was choppy in his hear. “Allie, are you there? Everything okay?”

  “No. No, I don’t think so.” Her words were choked out. “I just had a call from the police. Ben was in an accident.”

  “An accident?” Surprise had him jutting forward in his chaise.

  “Someone hit him. On… on his way to get Trey.” They said it’s bad, Jake.” Her voice broke and ended in a whisper. “I have to go to the hospital.”

  Hospital?! He sprang to his feet. “Wait for me! Do you hear me, Allie?” He yelled over the thundering of his heart. “Don’t drive! I’m on my way to pick you up!”

  He raced through his house, into his bedroom, stripping his shorts along the way. Oh shit, what happened? Did she say if Trey was in the car, too? His heart hammered. No. No, on the way to get Trey.” His breath left is body in a rush.

  The Wranglers on the floor were dirty. They’d do. He ripped a clean shirt from the closet, shoved his foot into an ancient Red Wing. Where the hell was his other boot? And why did they never land in the same place? He found it, grabbed his keys and was out the door.

  The drive from his house to theirs normally took twelve minutes. Tonight he blew through traffic and made it in eight. He set his jaw. He wouldn’t be any help if he was panicked.

  She waited on her front porch, pacing with her hands in knots as he tore up the driveway and squealed to a stop. The yellow glow of the porch light reflected off the wetness streaking down her face. She raced to his crew cab and clambered in.

  “Which hospital?” He spared her a quick glance as he roared back down the drive.

  “Desert Memorial.” When she coughed the rasp in her throat cleared. “Do you know where it is?”

  “That’s where you took Trey when he broke his arm, remember?” He reached for her hand, squeezed it. How could his voice possibly sound so calm over the violent drumming of his heart?

  He roared into a coveted parking spot near the building, shoved the truck into park and tumbled out. Grabbing her hand, he bolted toward the emergency room entrance. An ambulance was backing into a bay on the left side of the wing, its red lights cartwheeling, its siren no longer screaming. A squad car waited in a reserved space nearby. The wide glass doors screeched open automatically as they approached.

  Please let Ben be alright. It had been so long since he prayed. Was anybody listening?

  He drew Allie to the reception desk, staffed by a woman in a blue smock. This is Allie Tate. She was told her husband was in an automobile accident.” Anxiety emanated, resonated in his voice. Smiling was not an option.

  With a tired nod she turned to her computer and typed. He paced alongside Allie and waited for information to spit out.

  “Here it is.” The woman jabbed a finger at the monitor. “He was brought in a few minutes ago. Treatment Room 15. She pointed to her right. “He’ll be down that hall and on the left.” She handed them each a pass which they clipped to their clothes, then sprinted down the corridor. On their way to Ben.

  The antiseptic smell, the sterile white walls, the jangle of a gurney as it was muscled down the hallway were all a blur as they raced toward Treatment Room 15. Their feet clattered on the sparkling linoleum tiles, making an obscene amount of noise. Allie came up short as they approached the cubicle. Jake skidded to a halt beside her.

  The doorway was blocked. Medical staff surrounded the bed. She slipped through the crowd and abruptly forgot to breathe. With a sheet to his waist he lay bare-chested, beaten and broken, torn and bloody. Her knees went to jelly. “Oh, Ben.”

  There was a hypnotic drip-drip of fluids being fed into his IV, an eerie slow whoosh of air being forced into his lungs. Doctors and nurses dashed around the room. Jake backed her away from the curtained entry and led her to an orange plastic chair in the hallway. They would wait to speak to a doctor. They would wait for Ben.

  Jake sat beside her in the hallway, his voice low as he murmured into his phone. The glare of harsh fluorescent lighting filtered down from panels hidden in the ceiling.

  “Trey’s all right. Maddie said it was fine if he stayed another night. I only told her that Ben was in an accident and we were with him.”

  She reached for his hand and threaded their fingers together. “Thank you. I’ll call them again later. After we know more.”

  Equipment beeped all around them and visitors shuffled past. A young boy cried in his father’s arms, his arm wrapped in a bloody dish towel. Doctors and nurses darted efficiently from one room to the next. Medicinal smells collided with antibacterial cleaners.

  Allie sprang from her chair and peeked in Ben’s room yet again. Still asleep. Marilyn—the nurse’s name badge wore a smiley-face sticker—fussed around the bed.

  Jake would retur
n any minute with coffee “I promise not to bother.” She offered Marilyn a smile and hovered in the opening to the room. The nurse simply smiled and went about her business.

  “How’s he doing?” Jake came up behind her, offering two small plastic cups of creamer and a paper cup with a plastic lid. “Here you go. It’s not too bad.” Eyebrows drawn and eyes clouded, he stood beside her in Ben’s doorway, sipping from his cup.

  Poor Jake, he was so worried about Ben. But she didn’t know how to make it better. She sipped, leaned against him and let the tension drain from her shoulders.

  He held his paper cup in one hand. His other hand was cool when she reached for it to check his watch. Midnight—three hours since they arrived. People zipped in and out of Ben’s cubicle regularly, doctors and nurses and lab personnel. And once orderlies in matching scrubs wheeled Ben out, not returning for forty five minutes. He was getting plenty of attention. But they were ignored.

  Jake jerked awake when Marilyn left Ben’s cubicle and drew to a stop beside him. She glanced at her watch, her quiet smile tempering his pounding heart.

  “It’s late, almost two a.m., but he’s finally conscious.”

  At his nudge Allie’s eyes flew open, but he was already standing. “Humpty Dumpty’s awake.”

  The assessment Ben’s physician gave them when he finally stopped by was brief yet overwhelming. He tossed out terms like contusions, abrasions and lacerations, so the white gauze dressings covered Ben’s head, arms and chest were expected. But apparently there were indications of internal bleeding and swelling in his brain to be dealt with as well, probably requiring surgery. He was given a head CT hours ago.

  Jake’s throat burned. “We’re here, buddy.” From the far side of the bed, he placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder. His eyes were glassy with pain. He grimaced when he tried to turn his head. “The doctor will come in and talk to you and Allie in a minute, explain what’s going on.”