~~~~~~~~~
Kendall
"That girl is jus' too giddy for her own good." I laugh as Rhea passes by Dana and me, heading into the garage. The large pan of chef salad I am preparing for Chad's coming home party is done, so wrapping it with plastic wrap, I hand it off to Dana, seeing her wide smile.
"I'm just glad those two boneheads finally woke up and confessed their love for each other." She laughs, shoving the aluminum pans into the already overstuffed fridge. We are going to have plenty of food for the party. I am just glad Chad is coming home safe and sound. I don't even want to think about how Rhea would be if he wasn't.
Rhea, my best friend since diapers, has been head over heels for Chad since I can remember. She has endured years upon years of my teasing about it, her face turning red or throwing caustic insults back at me to defend herself. To tell you the truth, I have always known they would end up together.
There is just something about them; when they're together, you can just feel it. They can be a football field apart and you can sense the love, the affection they share. It sounds cheesy and cliché, but I truly believe Chad and Rhea are made for each other.
She says the same about Harlan and I, and I've been crossing my fingers lately that she is right. Scooting around the island, I peer out the screen door, hearing my man's deep voice carry from the field behind, yelling at his younger brothers. I am so madly in love with that man, that at times I feel crazy. It's so weird how I never really noticed his affection toward me until the bonfire back in January. I had been too concerned with quintessential bad boy, Jarrod Rawlings, to notice anyone else, and I've paid the price in lost time with Harlan.
He is so good to me and to his family that I can't imagine my life without him now. He's been so willing to help Rhea with whatever, whenever, that I'm afraid he might overload if we ever have a baby. The thought of it makes me giggle to myself as I watch him shove his sixteen year old brother, Johnny, out of the way to stretch the tarp tight over a pole to secure it himself, swearing loudly. That is my farmer boy for you.
"What are you giggling about, Kendall Marie Byrd?” Dana's sweet little voice breaks my daydream, and I snap back to prep mode, grabbing the closest food item and figuring out what to do with it. She gives me a sly smile and a wink, tossing another pan my way so that I can fill it and mix the macaroni salad. We work in comfortable silence, except for the light country music coming from the television in the next room; Dana humming along to it every now and then.
Glancing up at the clock on the stove, I see that it's almost quarter to three, noting that we have to kick it into high gear if we are going to have all this stuff ready. We have a large cooler lined with ice that we are stacking the pans to use first. Shoving the fourth pan of pasta salad down in and slamming the lid, I let out a loud sigh.
"Almost done, Kendall girl," Dana cheers, shaking the empty can of baked beans around like a pom-pom before tossing it in the makeshift recycling bin beside me.
"Should I check on Rhea?” I muse, cracking open a can of Coke and taking a long drink. Prep work is hard work; I am almost sweating.
"Nah, she should be almost done. If she needs anything, she’ll yell." I nod in reply, wiping off the counters around me. "Hon, do you know the names that Rhea has picked out? She won't tell me."
Dana has a pout on her lips as I peer over my shoulder at her, and I laugh lightly. She is so excited about having a grandbaby that she might as well have it tattooed across her forehead.
"I do," I say, and she squeals, "but, I promised Rhea not to tell anyone ‘till Chad picks one. She wants him to have the final say as to what their son is named." I think it is sweet. It also shows that typical Southern woman side of Rhea: bowing to a man to make a decision about his eldest son. She doesn’t really give a shit about that, she just wants Chad to feel as if he had a bigger part of the whole pregnancy, having the final say with the name.
Her choices are sweet and tear jerking as well. Number one is Charles Randolph Payne. Charles was Chad’s father, who passed away when he was younger, and, of course, Randolph for Rhea's older brother, Randy. Number two is Chadwick Rex Payne. Chadwick of course for Chad and Rex was the name that Randy always used to say he would name his son when he had one. It is a shame that he never would, because he would've been an awesome dad, just like he was an awesome brother to Rhea, and me for that matter.
Dana gives me a smile that she tries to make look like a pout, and I giggle at her. I know she'll love either one, so I make a zipping motion with my fingers to my lips and she laughs. Our comfortable quiet is interrupted as the guys burst in the sliding door, sweaty and yelling at each other.
"Why y'all gotta be so loud?” Dana chides, hitting Brad in the shoulder with a plastic spoon she had been mixing pasta salad with, and he winces dramatically, rubbing the spot.
"It's warm as hell out there when you're the one doin' all the work," Harlan huffs, sitting next to me and wrapping me in a sweat soaked hug, which I quickly break, getting him to nip at my ear. His brothers all issue their own gripes, throwing empty water bottles at him as I duck out of the way. The Dow boys are always ragging on each other about one thing or another, and it makes everyone laugh at them as they start to break off into pairs, wrestling.
"Where's our little momma?” Garth asks through a mouth full of apple, leaning his back on the island next to Brad. His green eyes meet mine as I nod my head toward the mud room door, trying to pry Harlan's two youngest brothers apart before they break something. "Well, it's almost three, I'll go get her so ..."
"Ray..." we all hear the voice echo from the garage, and it makes us freeze. As I look up at Harlan and then Garth, they both have confused looks on their faces. Then three quick shots, BANG, BANG, BANG, bring us from our spots, and I'm on Harlan's heels as we burst into the garage.
What the hell, is all I can think as I barely catch sight of Garth and Harlan chasing after someone, and then I see my best friend lying on the concrete. Bleeding. Moaning. I'm over by her and kneeling before I even feel my legs move.
"Ray, Ray can you hear me?” I scream, the fright making its way into my heart.
She's bleeding from the shoulder and chest, with a steady stream flowing from her right thigh. Oh my God, she's bleeding! She's been shot! "No, no, no..." I whimper, the tears flowing freely from my eyes. My hands shake as I hover them over her, my mind not quite working. It's then that I notice Brad is on her right side, frantically applying pressure to her leg and yelling at me.
"Ken, snap out of it! Rhea needs our help," he says to me and I can hear the shakiness of his voice as he looks up at me from my best friend’s bleeding body. "Dana, tell them to send the Medi-Vac from Waverly, her femoral artery has been severed," he yells and I hear Dana's shaky voice behind me. I've watched enough CSI, Law & Order, and House to know that this isn't good.
I'm guessing Dana is on the phone with 911, but I'm too absorbed with the scene before me. It's so surreal. Am I fucking dreaming? This can’t be real; no, it isn’t. I’ll wake up and feel like a dumbass.
"Rhea," I lean down and whisper in her ear as her blue-gray eyes dart around, little moans coming from her lips, "stay with us. Hang in there, momma; help's on the way." I wipe my hand over her forehead and brush back the hair. I take the torn t-shirt from one of Harlan's brothers and apply pressure to her shoulder, the blood almost immediately seeping through to hit my hands.
I shoo Harlan's thirteen year old brother, Jimmy, away. His face is the picture of my emotions: pale, wide eyed, and frightened. Fuck, am I frightened. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing as Rhea groans beneath me.
"Th-th-the baby…” she gets out between a heart shattering moan and whimper.
My eyes go from her stomach to Brad. He's tied a tourniquet around her leg, and as his hazel eyes meet mine, my heart drops. The hazel is rimmed in red, the tears running down his stubble filled face and dripping from his chin. Rhea's left hand shoots up and grabs his forearm.
"Save my
baby!” she cries, and I try to choke down the sob that fills my chest.
"Hold on, momma," he says, "both of you are gonna be jus' fine. You gotta calm down and just focus on breathin'." Her breathing is heavy and hitching, a wheezing coming from deep inside. I press harder on the chest and shoulder wounds, secretly wanting them to disappear. Wanting them to just go away, and to rewind time.
I want to go back an hour from now and keep Rhea from coming out here. I want to hug her tight to me and not let her go. Fuck, I want to tell her I’ll come help her and let the fully capable Dana finish with the food. Maybe then I wouldn’t be kneeling here, my hands covered in my best friend’s blood.
I can hear the sirens approaching as Brad keeps talking to Rhea, and I finally lift my head from my fallen best friend to take in the chaos around me. Harlan and Garth have someone pinned down in the driveway. Harlan is swinging away at the person as the Sheriffs’ cars screech to a stop at the end of the drive, the deputies hopping out and pulling Harlan off.
Duke Orr. That no-good bastard. That redneck, piece of shit, drunk, fucking asshole.
The bile in my stomach lurches into my throat, and I almost lose it. He shot her?
Watching as they pull him to the front of the cop car, throwing him down on his chest and pulling his hands behind his back, I let out a frustrated scream, drowning out Duke's yells of "I'm sorry," or "I love you, Rhea."
"Jesus!” Brad's curse brings my attention back, and I follow his eyes.
Rhea's water has broken. The liquid is soaking into her shorts and seeping onto the concrete. We need that helicopter. Where the hell are they?
"No, Rhea, you gotta stay awake," he yells, his hand on her forehead as his other still applies pressure to her thigh. He shakes her, a frustrated sound coming from deep within his chest pulling at my heart. “Rhea! Stay with me, momma!”
"Brad, what's going on?” I cry, pressing down on Rhea's shoulder wound as I peer down at her face.
It is pale. Her eyes are closed. Looking at her chest, I don’t see it rising and falling, and I can’t stop the sobs from flowing out.
"No, no, no," I scream in my head, a frustrated grunt growing between my teeth as more tears stream down. This can't be happening. She is meant to be happy. Chad is coming home. Chad!
"Someone's gotta call Chad!” I scream, looking around for Dana. She is standing at the back door, her eyes on the back yard. She’s shaking; I can see her hands gripped into her shirt as her entire body trembles.
"The helicopter!” she cries, pointing out, and my heart lifts. Rhea has to be okay now, the paramedics are here. She is going to be fine, right?
The next few minutes fly by, in a total blur, leaving my head spinning. Men come in the garage with a backboard and medical bags, pushing me out of the way as Brad gives them the run down. Rhea is strapped down and wheeled from the garage before I know it and I watch them put her in the chopper and lift off, Brad along with them.
How could a happy day turn bad in less than ten minutes? Turning back toward the driveway, still in shock, I see the reason why. Words leave me as I watch the guys all arguing and shuffling around with the reason why my best friend is clinging to life, hundreds of miles up in the air, fighting the cops to be free.
Duke Orr is being pushed into the back of one of the Sheriffs’ cars, blood covering most of his face. My heart is racing and my limbs are shaking as my legs carry me to the car.
Rage pours through my fists as I pound them on the car window, screaming undecipherable words at the top of my lungs. Harlan's arms wrap around my waist, yanking me from my ranting as the Sheriffs try to calm me down. I feel like a wild beast, thrashing at the open air around me as I scream and cry. Then I see the blood, covering my arms and hands.
My best friend's blood. My beautiful, full of life, beaming mother to be, best friend. The girl who I can go to with any problem or gripe. The girl who likes her iced tea a little bitter and her frosting to be thick on her cake. My best friend.
"Why?” I scream, turning into Harlan's chest and letting the situation hit me. Rhea has been shot. Shot by Duke. Pushing back against Harlan's chest, I look up at the emotional tornado that is his face. "We need to go. We need to get to the hospital."
"Go in and get your phone," he says, releasing me to Dana, and we make our way to the front door. She is still trembling, the same as I am, and we both grip each other tighter. Grabbing Rhea's baby ready bags from the front closet, my phone, and locking the door, it’s like I’m in zombie mode. Dana and I emerge just as Garth whips Brad's Jeep to the front steps; the blue light on the dash flashing away.
"Get in," Garth adds tersely. Dana and I slide into the back seat as I dial Chad's cell. Dana's tears are ripping at my heart as the ringing continues, ending in Chad's voicemail, and I hang up. He can't hear this via message. We're speeding through town, and as I look around us, I see that we're flanked by Sheriff's cars, their lights and sirens running.
With shaky hands, I reach over to Dana and wrap my fingers around hers. I don’t know what to say to make her stop crying. Hell, I couldn’t say it without crying myself if I did know the words.
"He's not answering," I say, the tears still flowing down. It feels as if a piece of me is missing. Rhea is a piece of me.
She is my best friend, but she is also the sister that I never had for real. We have been through so much together. She can't leave me like this. She can't leave all of us like this. NO! There is no way she is going to die; she wouldn't give up this easy.
"Call Rosa," Dana's voice is a shaky whimper and I quickly do what she says. I can't even start to fathom what she's feeling right now. She loves Rhea like a daughter. She's taken care of her for the last couple of years when her own mother was too emotionally wrecked. Rhea is pregnant with her grandson, and her son will be crushed if this doesn't turn out okay.
As the phone dials up Rosa's number, I look to the passenger’s seat and tap Harlan on his shoulder. "What hospital?" I ask, gripping my boyfriend’s hand as he reaches back. His knuckles are bloodied and split, and his eyes are rimmed in red as he wipes tears from his cheek.
"Southampton Memorial." He tries to smile, but it ends in a few more tears slipping down his cheek as I lean back into my seat, breaking our hands apart, and I miss his touch immediately.
At this speed, we’ll make it there in another fifteen minutes, but it is normally a forty-five minute trip. Rhea's doctor wanted her to deliver there, and it is the closest major hospital.
"She's gonna be fine, she has to be. You'll get to the hospital, and she'll be there smiling at you and calling you stupid for worrying so much. She'll deliver her baby boy and Chad will name him, and we'll all come home and be happy," I keep telling myself, muttering silently in my head like a crazy person.
As Rosa's phone still rings, I send out a whispered prayer, gripping Dana's hand and bowing my head. "Please Lord, I know I haven't done this nearly as often as I should, but please, please, listen to me. Don't take Rhea from us. Don't take her, or her baby, from the ones she loves and the ones who love her. Please watch over her and guide the Doctor's hands in making sure she survives. Please Lord, I'll do anything. Just please, don't let my friend die. If she does, she'll take a piece of me with her, and I don't know if I can survive that. Please Lord."
Dana squeezes my hand and whispers her own 'Amen' as Rosa's voice comes on the line, the cheeriness filling me with dread and making my eyes spill over again. Taking a deep breath in, I prepare to pass on the earth shattering news.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rosa
"Hey Kendall, how are ya, Hun?" I grin into my cell, standing at the front of Chad's truck, waiting for Reno and him to emerge from the Administrative building in front of me. The team is being de-briefed, and Reno is getting his discharge orders. I can't wait to see my husband, and as our daughter wiggles in my arms, a wide smile goes across my lips.
"Rosa, where are you?" Kendall's voice is tight when it's normally light and bubbly. The hairs on
the back of my neck prickle. There is something wrong, I know it.
"On base, waiting for Chad and Reno, why? Is something wrong?" Has Rhea gone into labor? No, she'd call me herself. Is she hurt? Fear starts to trickle down my spine, and I grip Marisol a little tighter to my chest.
"You need to get them and get to Southampton Memorial, now,” she says and I can hear her sniffle. She is crying. Kendall hardly ever cries. I open and shut my mouth, trying to form words when she speaks up again, this time ending in a sob. "Rhea's been shot."
"What!?" I must have heard her wrong. Did she just say that Rhea has been shot? No way. Who would shoot Rhea? She's an angel. "This isn't funny, Kendall, if you’re…”
"I'm not fuckin' joking, Rosa," she screams at me, and I freeze, my fingers tightening around my cell. "Get Chad and get to Southampton. We'll be here waiting." She hangs up. I hold the phone to my ear, in shocked silence, the dial tone ringing through my mind. This can’t be happening.
My palms are sweaty as I stare at the screen of my phone, my mouth agape, not believing. Rhea, the girl who has stood by my side at every breathing class and doctor’s appointment, has been shot? Rhea, the woman who I have watched blossom into a very excited expecting mom, has been shot? "No, no, no," I say to myself, looking to the front of the building where Chad and Reno will be exiting at any minute.
How am I going to tell him? My chest starts to heave in and out as I quickly make it to the front door, swinging it open while clutching my daughter to my chest. I feel numb. I walk up to the closest person, an officer of some sort but I don't bother to look at his name.
"You need to get Chief Petty Officer Payne for me," I say with a squeaky voice, looking into the man's eyes trying to get my fear and urgency across. I’m trying to hold back the tears, but they are right there, fighting to spring free and streak down my cheek. I need to try and stay strong for Rhea.
Coming Home: Book 2 The Wakefield Romance Series Page 15
