by Jodi Thomas
He made an effort to free himself from the gurney, but the EMT had to help him. A few minutes later, Tyler walked into the emergency room. A nurse showed him to a room, and within an hour the doctor released him. He had a mild concussion, a bad bruise on his left hip, and a knot on his forehead the size of a golf ball from the flashlight.
When he walked to the desk to wait for Calvin to come pick him up, Tyler asked about the woman. She’d been admitted. Besides bruises, she was dehydrated and running a fever.
Tyler stepped outside when Calvin pulled up in the old station wagon they always used to pick up bodies from the hospital. Much less obvious than a hearse. Tyler thought of climbing in the back and lying down. The way his head hurt, he was at least half dead. Plus, he felt like somehow all the injuries, his and hers, had been his fault tonight. She probably didn’t have any money and was just looking for a quiet place to sleep. He should have waited until afternoon to check the back gate. If she had been still there, then they could have talked.
Calvin drove home so slowly that Tyler could have walked beside the car.
The third time Tyler assured Calvin that he was all right, the older man dialed Beth, the funeral home receptionist and bookkeeper. “He’s hurt,” Calvin whispered, as if Tyler couldn’t hear, “but he’s going to be all right. Call the others. I’m inbound now.”
Tyler wasn’t surprised they were all waiting for him when he got home. Calvin and Dave, who did work on the cemetery grounds, tried to help him inside. Beth and Stella, the night host, asked him questions all the way up the front steps.
He finally turned to the four of them and smiled. “I’m all right. I swear. I don’t need help getting upstairs or someone to stay with me.” He smiled at Stella McNabb, who looked like she might cry. “I could use some cocoa, though, and maybe a few of your cookies.”
The women hurried off, happy to have something to do.
Calvin and Dave walked him up the stairs anyway, wanting to know details of the accident.
By the time Tyler had finished, the women were there with cocoa and cookies. As they each said good night and offered to come in a moment’s notice if he needed anything, Tyler added four more people in the world that he mattered to.
Chapter 13
LATE AFTERNOON ON SUNDAY
THE HOSPITAL IN MEMPHIS LOOKED HUGE AS REAGAN paid the cabdriver and walked inside. She’d tossed a few changes of clothes and a toothbrush in her bag along with her computer. Over the months she’d learned that when she entered a hospital, she never knew how long it would be until she walked out.
The nurse at the desk pointed her toward the ICU but didn’t seem overly friendly. Maybe it was because Reagan looked more like a homeless person than a visitor. She’d grabbed her work coat by mistake and on the plane noticed it had a rip along the pocket and stains on both sleeves.
She’d checked on Uncle Jeremiah, then left the farm before daylight. Foster explained over and over how he’d never leave Jeremiah’s side while she was gone. If the old man took one step downhill in his recovery, they’d call her right away. Cindy drove her to Amarillo to catch a plane, telling her everything she could do to help Noah.
From Amarillo she’d gone to Dallas and waited two hours for a flight to Memphis. All in all she figured it had taken her almost as long to fly as it would have taken her to drive. She’d called Noah’s phone twice, but there’d been no answer.
Once Reagan found the ICU, she made a corner of the waiting room home and watched the wall clock for the fifteen minutes of visitation every two hours. Noah was asleep the first time she saw him. The nurse warned her not to wake him. Besides bruised and broken, he looked thinner and older than he’d been last summer.
Reagan stared at the man and remembered the boy. He’d been almost seventeen when he’d walked up to her in the school courtyard at lunch. He was all legs and hat and full of bull. He’d told her that first day they met that he would be a hunk someday.
She smiled, brushed her hand along the cast on his arm, and thought how he’d been right. His long muscles had hardened into a powerful body, and the jaw, now bruised and covered in whiskers, was clenched tight, fighting the pain. If he’d been an actor on the screen he would have broken hearts, because he looked like the perfect image of a real western cowboy come to life.
Reagan didn’t try to stop the tears as she started remembering all the times he’d been hurt and how every time he fought back. But now it might not be as easy. Broken bones and bruises would heal, but tubes running to him told her there was more wrong this time. Internal injuries, maybe, or a back that might never be strong again.
“If you called me to come to watch you die,” she whispered, “I swear I’ll never forgive you.”
He didn’t move, but the beeps and rhythm of the machine frightened her. She took his hand. A man’s hand, strong and scarred. “I’ve come to take you home, Noah. I don’t think I can make it without you for a friend right now.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt his fingers tighten.
Before she could say more, the nurse told her it was time to go.
Reagan smiled and whispered, “See you soon.”
The first night she slept in the waiting room. The second day he was out having tests run during every visiting time. As far as she could tell, no one had tried to see him except her, and no one had called to ask the volunteer at the main desk about his condition. His family didn’t know, and the cowboys he’d been traveling with had moved on to the next rodeo. Knowing Noah, he’d probably told them he was fine and family was on their way.
She was asleep, her second night in the waiting room, when a nurse came out and said he was awake. “I’ll sneak you in, but only for a few minutes. It’ll make him feel better just knowing you’re here.”
Reagan scrambled. She didn’t even bother putting on her shoes; she just followed the nurse.
Noah’s eyes were open—at least one of them; the other was swollen closed, and varying shades of purple striped the lid like a bad makeup job.
“Hi, Rea. Nice to see you.” He gripped her hand tightly, saying far more with his touch than with his words.
She smiled. “It’s good to see you too.”
“The nurse told me some scrappy girl was out in the waiting room. Been giving them hell for two days wanting to know what’s happening.” He groaned when she laughed. “I knew it had to be you.”
Rea looked down at her once-clean shirt. She’d spilled her drink on it yesterday, but hardly noticed the stain until now. “I was planning to clean up in the morning before I saw you.”
“You look great just the way you are. Thanks for coming. I probably shouldn’t have called, but I didn’t want to go through this alone.”
“I don’t look great. You can’t see well, or maybe this time you really did take one too many blows to the head.”
He squeezed her fingers.
“I haven’t been much help either. Since I’m not kin, the doctors won’t talk to me. In fact, I’ve pestered one so much, he runs when he sees me coming.”
“You’ve been more help than you know just being there.” He suddenly looked very tired. “One of the nurses said they’ll be moving me to a room tomorrow. I’m just sleeping here for tonight since they’re not full. Why don’t you go find a real place to sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure. I promise I won’t die on you.”
Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks, but he didn’t see them.
The nurse moved beside him. “He’ll rest now.” She smiled at Reagan. “You’d best get some sleep too, honey, or you’ll be checking into this place.”
Reagan didn’t want to leave, but she needed a bath and a change of clothes. She grabbed her bag and walked to the main entrance. A guard on the night desk agreed to call her a cab.
Walking out into the cold night to wait, she thought about how much she hated hospitals. She felt like a miner who’d been trapped in b
ad air for days. If they brought canaries into hospital hallways, the birds would be dead within minutes. Everything in the place smelled of cleaning fluid, even the popcorn she’d had hours ago for supper.
When the cab pulled up, Reagan realized she hadn’t stayed in a hotel since she’d been about ten and a caseworker had to take her to a group home a few hundred miles away. They’d been caught in a storm and pulled off at a Hilton. The caseworker complained she’d never get her money back, but for Reagan it was like walking into a palace.
“Where to, miss?” the cabdriver said in a tired, bland voice.
“The nearest Hilton.” Reagan leaned back in the seat, hoping it wasn’t twenty miles away.
As it turned out, it was almost within sight of the hospital. She tipped the guy ten dollars and walked into the lobby.
The clerk didn’t look much older than her. “How may I help you?” Her smile was wide, but not friendly.
“I need a room for the night.”
“Smoking or nonsmoking?”
“Non.”
“King or queen?”
“Queen.” Reagan guessed she was talking about the bed size.
“We’re out of queen, but we have a king.”
“All right, king.” Reagan was beginning to think this was some kind of surprise game show.
“Fill this out, please, and I’ll need to see a driver’s license and a credit card.”
Reagan pulled out her driver’s license and the credit card she used for ordering on the Internet.
The clerk wrote down her room number on a folded envelope and passed it to her along with a card.
When Reagan raised an eyebrow, the girl whispered, “Your key.”
Reagan took the card and decided she could figure it out. She took a step, looking around the lobby, then backstepped to face the girl again. “Is there a place to get a meal?”
“Room service is open until eleven. They mostly have sandwiches this late. You can charge it to your room.”
“Good. Send up a meal of soup, sandwich, and milk.”
“What kind?”
“Any kind. Whatever the cook has handy.”
Reagan picked up her card key and walked away. In the elevator, she read how to unlock her door, then broke into a smile when she stepped inside. The room looked like it belonged in a fancy decorating magazine. Within minutes, she’d stripped and stepped into the shower.
After she’d washed her hair and slipped on a white robe, she walked out into the room and found a tray of food waiting for her. As she ate, Reagan decided her one luxury from now on in life would be that every time she traveled, she’d stay in fancy hotels. Since this was only her second hotel in twenty years, the rule wasn’t likely to bankrupt her.
She slept until eight. Her first thought was of Noah when she woke. She called the hospital and was told he’d be undergoing more testing most of the morning. Reagan got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.
She bought a wool jacket from the gift shop and took a cab back to the hospital, wanting to be waiting in his room when he got finished.
When they rolled him into his private room, he was asleep. Reagan waited more than an hour before he finally opened his eyes.
“You look better,” he said.
“You still look terrible.” She laughed. “But then, they didn’t have much but bones and muscle to work with. I’ve never seen you looking so thin.”
“I know. They’ve been running tests all morning and not letting me eat. I keep telling them every part of my body hurts and they keep saying, ‘Isn’t that wonderful.’ Problem is, when I tell them how bad my back hurts the docs say they can’t find the reason.”
“You’ve got feeling in your legs?”
“Yeah. The bull did some damage, but he didn’t break my back. I guess I’m lucky. They want to keep an eye on me for two or three more days, and then they said I can go home. I’ll have a few months of therapy, and then if everything goes well I’ll be back in the saddle by summer. I’ve still got a ways to go to fill my card.”
Reagan didn’t want to hear it. She was thankful he would recover, but the idea that he planned to go back to trying to kill himself almost broke her heart. Rodeo cowboys paid more than a hundred dollars for a pro card, then made a point for every dollar they won in prize money. A thousand dollars got the pro standing. Then it was big rides at big rodeos for big money.
A nurse came in and asked her if she would leave for a few minutes.
Reagan didn’t even want to know why. She almost ran from the room. If he didn’t have so many breaks and bruises already, she would have tried to kick some sense into him. All he could think about was rodeo even after it almost killed him.
Standing by the window, she phoned home. Uncle Jeremiah was giving Foster all kinds of hell, which the retired medic claimed was grand. He’d had the old man up walking twice since dawn, and with luck he’d be out of the wheelchair within a month.
One load lifted off her shoulders. Maybe she’d have time to talk some sense into Noah while he was recovering. She wanted her best friend back before the thrill and the danger claimed him.
After walking the halls for a while, she wandered into the coffee shop and sat thinking. Having Noah for a friend was like knowing an addict who wouldn’t quit no matter how bad the fall. She thought of calling that TV show that did interventions. Maybe if all of Noah’s friends and family got together and promised never to speak to him again if he didn’t stop the riding, he’d quit before he died in the mud.
No, she realized. His family loved the rodeo. They’d never go along with her plan. His father was a national champion. His friends were all the buddies he traveled with from town to town. They loved the thrills. They’d only look at her as if she were crazy for trying to make him stop.
She took a cab, went back to the Hilton, and booked another room for the night. Reagan knew she had to calm down before she talked to Noah again, otherwise they’d just fight.
NOAH WATCHED THE NURSE CHANGE HIS BANDAGES. HE knew Reagan wouldn’t be back for a while. They were one step away from an argument. He wished he could find the moment in his memory when things stopped being perfect between them. They’d been so close once he swore he could read her thoughts. He didn’t know all the reasons why she didn’t want to be touched, but he told himself he’d wait. He’d go slow.
But he hadn’t waited. He’d decided all she wanted was to be friends. They’d never talked of love; neither was ready for that kind of commitment. She was focused on her farm and taking care of her uncle. He’d hit the road at eighteen. For a while it was like some kind of crazy party. The rush of the rides, the drinking to calm down, the girls knocking on his door when he won.
The nurse asked him if he needed a pain pill and he said yes, knowing a pill wouldn’t end the hurt inside him. He and Rea could never be more than friends. He tried to make himself believe that he could accept it.
Only, how would he get her out of his thoughts? When he imagined making love, it was Reagan in his arms and no other. She was one petite little girl of a woman who didn’t have a single sexy thing about her, but she was the only woman he’d ever longed for. He’d spent a few hundred hours figuring out just what he’d do with every part of her body. Thoughts she’d probably kill him for thinking.
He didn’t deserve her.
Closing his eyes, he knew it had been a mistake to call her. She was like a mirror of what he could be, held up to show him how little he’d made of himself.
Only he’d break his other arm and both legs before he’d tell her to go.
Chapter 14
TUESDAY
FEBRUARY 23
BLUE MOON DINER
TYLER WRIGHT SLID INTO THE BOOTH ACROSS FROM HANK Matheson at the Blue Moon Diner. Even though Hank had finally married and built Alex, his bride, a house on his ranch that overlooked both their properties, he still dropped by the main ranch house every Tuesday and Thursday morning to pick up his niece. He took her to breakfast
and then school.
Saralynn was in grade school now and managed quite well with her leg braces and crutches, but she still loved it when her uncle carried her.
The diner was packed with locals and a few tables of truckers who’d discovered the place.
“How are you this morning?” Tyler addressed Saralynn first.
“It would be better if it was Saturday. Mom’s taking me to Oklahoma City then.” Saralynn made a face. “I wish it was Saturday.” She waved her hand and looked disappointed when the world didn’t change.
“Sorry, Princess.” Tyler smiled. “Give it time. Saturday will come. No use wishing your life away.”
She put her chin on her palms and sighed before turning back to the menu.
Tyler nodded in Hank’s direction. “How about you? Staying out of trouble, I hope.” He smiled at Hank. “Wouldn’t do to have your own wife arrest you.”
Hank Matheson grinned. “It might be interesting to see her try.”
Saralynn, unaware there was a conversation going on, spoke up. “I forgot to say I’m fine today, Sir Knight.” She might be all grown up at eight years old, but she still called Tyler the name she’d given him when she was four.
“That’s good to hear, Princess.” Tyler handed her a set of art pencils he’d picked up at the hobby store the last time he’d been in Dallas. “I thought you might need a few more drawing pencils.”
She laughed. “Thanks.” Flipping her paper placemat over, she set to work.
Tyler leaned close. “Want to tell me what you’re planning to draw? They say you gifted folks see the picture in your head even when you look at a blank canvas.”
She didn’t look up as she worked. “It’s a cave lit only by diamonds. A place where only fairies live.”
Hank folded up his newspaper, ordered, then turned his attention back to his friend. “I blame you for her wild imagination. You’ve always played along with her dreams. I swear, her make-believe world is so real sometimes I wonder if I’m not part of the fantasy world just living in her mind.”
