by JoAnn Ross
Claire knew that the picnic Maddy Chaffee had packed for them was undoubtedly exquisite. But between the wine that had mellowed out nerves made edgy by concern about her son and her first northwest storm building outside, and the shared kisses which grew slower, longer, and deeper, the world faded away and there was only Dillon.
After taking the dishes and basket into the kitchen, he returned, and apparently no longer content with her lips alone, he pushed aside the cowl neckline of her sweater and pressed his open mouth against her throat, where her pulse thudded hot and fast.
As she reeled from the touch of his tongue against her skin, a storm began to swirl inside her.
“Dillon.” Even the sound of this man’s name tasted lush and lovely on her tongue. “I need…” Everything. “More.”
“More,” he agreed, drawing her down to the quilt and undressing her with the exquisite care of a man unwrapping a precious Christmas gift.
Dillon Slater made love as she imagined he’d play basketball—with a practiced skill that made every movement seem inordinately graceful.
Her skin flowed like water beneath his stroking hands. Beneath his mouth her senses tangled, brilliant layers, one atop the other, just as she layered stripes of color onto molten glass.
Through her swirling senses she heard him murmur her name. Over and over, like a promise. Or a prayer.
As he gave, she opened. Heart, mind, and body.
And as the wind wailed and rattled the windows and an icy rain hammered on the roof, inside they held each other tight.
And together, heart against heart, warm bodies entangled, they loved.
57
Even as Sax was going insane on the inside, he managed, for Trey’s sake, to remain outwardly calm as he retrieved Kara’s suitcase from the bedroom.
“You’re about to be a big brother,” he told his adopted son. Since Trey’s teachers had scheduled an in-service day, Sax had left Bon Temps to Cody, his manager, and stayed home.
“The weather looks awful bad,” Trey said. “What if we have a tsunami?”
“It’d have to be a really big one to reach up here to this cliff,” Sax said as he took their parkas down from the hooks in the mudroom.
“But it could go into the bay.”
There’d been a time, when Sax had first met the boy, that he’d been obsessed with watching disasters on the Discovery Channel. The counselor the widowed Kara had taken him to had said that was a normal response to his having lost his father to violence.
As far as Sax knew, those fears hadn’t returned since he and Kara had gotten together and formed their family.
“Not going to happen,” he said. “This is just a typical winter storm.” Which was mostly true, though the weather radio was also predicting the possibility of an ice storm. Which Sax so didn’t need.
They’d managed to make it about a hundred yards when a Douglas fir came crashing down in front of them.
When Trey yelled, understandably, Sax began second-guessing his decision to bring him to the hospital.
“No problem.” He flashed his son his most reassuring grin. The same one he’d use to assure Afghans that he’d come to their country to be their friend, and hey, don’t pay any attention to that huge gun he was carrying.
The wind practically blew the door off the Camaro as he climbed out to retrieve the chainsaw he’d stuck in the trunk in anticipation of this possibility.
With the wind ripping at him like knives, he managed to cut the tree, which fortunately wasn’t one of the huge ones lining the road, into hunks, which he rolled out of the way.
“Okay,” he said with false bravado as he continued on. “No problem.”
“That was great, Dad,” Trey said. But as Sax glanced over at him, he saw that his small face was pinched with worry.
Join the club, kid.
The rest of the drive from the cliff-side home to the bridge thankfully was uneventful.
“No sweat,” Sax told Trey. “We’ve almost got this nailed.”
Then he turned the last tight corner and came face-to-face with the Shelter Bay drawbridge, which was coated, from pillars to soaring top wires, with ice.
58
The birthing rooms had been designed to calm fears and ease anxiety. Each room had two chairs and a love seat, the walls were painted in soft sea glass colors, and murals of local Shelter Bay landscapes had been painted on the wall opposite each bed.
Phoebe’s wall depicted the Shelter Bay lighthouse, while Kara’s was of the bay in summer, where boats with brightly colored sails skimmed across pure blue water while a pod of pelicans flew overhead.
“He’s going to make it,” Maddy assured Kara.
“I don’t know how,” Kara said through clenched teeth as another contraction rolled over her.
The contractions had begun in earnest right after she’d arrived at the hospital. Concerned about cord prolapse, her doctor had immediately ordered her confined to bed.
She couldn’t believe her timing. Oh, having her baby come two weeks early wasn’t that surprising, and if that was the only change in plans, she would have been grateful because it saved her sitting around at home for two weeks waiting to go into labor.
But to have that ice storm blow in from the sea, right beneath the weather radar, was really bad luck. She’d been forced to have Trey alone while Jared had been deployed, and it wasn’t fair that she’d be alone this time, too.
Sax was less than twenty minutes away as the crow flies. Unfortunately, he was not a crow. And, as the highway signs always warned, bridges ice up first.
Although her friends were a wonderful support team, and she loved them, they weren’t her husband.
“He’ll get here,” said Charity, repeating what Maddy and Sedona kept assuring her. “He was a SEAL. There’s nothing those guys can’t do.”
“Except fly,” Kara said as another wave rolled over her.
59
“What are we going to do now?” Trey asked.
“Got it covered,” Sax assured him. “I’m calling in the cavalry. Your uncle Cole has chains on his SUV. He’ll come and get us.”
Which was a great idea.
Until Cole called back in from the other side of the bridge a few minutes later.
“It’s not happening, bro,” his older brother said. “It’s too steep and as icy as a skating rink. I couldn’t get halfway up it without sliding back down.”
“Fuck,” Sax said, momentarily forgetting Trey in his frustration.
“Fuck,” the eight-year-old repeated.
Sax dragged his hand down his face. “Don’t tell your mom I said that in front of you.”
“I won’t. But sometimes it’s the only word that works.”
Sax couldn’t argue with that.
“She’s not going to have that baby without us being there,” he said.
“You’ll think of something, Dad.”
His son’s confidence was encouraging. Their freaking nightmare of a situation was not.
He could handle this. He was a SEAL. And SEALs never, ever quit.
The only easy day was yesterday.
Too bad this day had to be so fucking lousy.
He sat there, staring at the bridge, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as the wailing wind battered the Camaro and the sound of trees falling echoed through the forest. And he vowed that as soon as Kara had their baby, he was driving to a dealership and getting a real family car. Maybe not a minivan. But definitely an SUV like the one Cole had traded his fire-engine red dually diesel pickup for when he’d married Kelli.
“I have an idea.” He pulled out his cell phone. He didn’t have many bars, but he hoped he had enough of a signal to call Bon Temps.
“Hey, Cody,” he said when his manager picked up. “Am I glad you’re still there. Listen, I need some help, man. Like yesterday.”
60
“I’m worried,” Claire said the morning after Dillon’s picnic. Matt was due back this morning, just as the storm had stalled
overhead, bringing rare snow and ice to the coast.
“They’re not predicting the storm to be as bad inland,” he assured her as she paced the floor.
“They didn’t predict this one,” she pointed out. “At least it wasn’t supposed to be nearly as bad as it’s turning out to be.”
“He’ll be okay.” He came up behind her and smoothed his large palms over her shoulders, easing out the boulder-sized knots in her muscles. “The buses all have chains in case of emergencies, and those ski-charter bus drivers are used to driving in bad weather, because it’s a little hard to ski on a mountain that doesn’t have any snow.”
“Maybe it’s mother’s intuition,” she said, staring out the rain-streaked window, as if she could will the bus to pull up in front of the house. She reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing so hard her nails bit into his skin. “But I’m feeling really, really bad about this, Dillon.”
She’d no sooner said those words when her cell phone trilled.
When she viewed Highway Patrol on the caller ID, Claire’s blood turned as icy as the streets outside the window.
61
“Someone call for a coach?” Sax asked as he entered the room with Trey by his side.
“You’re late,” Kara said. The uncensored love Sax saw shining in her eyes belied her stern tone.
“I know. We had some stuff to deal with.”
“A tree fell down across the road and Dad cut it up with a chainsaw,” Kara’s son said, recounting what Sax had already told her during one of his many calls before he’d lost both landline and cell service. “But then we couldn’t get across the bridge.”
“We heard no one was,” Maddy said.
“Even Uncle Cole couldn’t,” Trey said. He was jumping up and down, still pumped with excitement from the ride into town from the coast. “But then Dad got the coolest idea.”
“Which would be?” Kara asked. “To beam yourselves here?”
“Nah. That’s make-believe. We rode here in a tank!”
“A tank?” In contrast to her son’s, which were as wide as saucers, Kara’s eyes narrowed.
“Cody’s in the National Guard,” Sax explained. “I knew they were off doing winter training exercises at Mount Hood last weekend, so when I still had a cell signal, I called and asked whether they still had the cleats for the Abrams. Turns out they did.”
He flashed his bad-boy cocky grin so she wouldn’t realize how frantic he’d been. Even Trey, who’d been with him, hadn’t realized that every atom in his body had been screeching like a Patriot missile while he’d been trying to figure out a way to make it to the hospital in time.
“We SEALs thrive on adversity,” he said, quoting part of the oath he’d taken after surviving Hell Week so many years ago. There were times it felt like another lifetime. Which, he thought, as a wave of appreciation and love for his adopted son and wife rolled over him, it actually was.
“I never had a single doubt,” Sedona said. “Come on, Trey,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s go down and see what kind of treats they’ve got in the cafeteria.”
“Whatever they have won’t be as good as your cupcakes,” he said.
She smiled and ruffled his hair. “What is? But since the roads are an ice rink out there, we’ll just have to suffer with what we can scrounge up here.”
“I’m feeling hungry, too,” Maddy said.
“Me, too,” Charity agreed. She looked up at Sax. “We’re leaving her in your hands now. Take care of her.”
“I fully intend to.” His voice was husky with emotion.
“So.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, took a hand in both of his, and looked straight into her eyes. “How are you doing? Really?”
“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted. “Better than fine now that you’re here. Did you really come in a tank?”
“Yeah.” She tensed as a contraction swept over her.
“Slow and deep.” Sax reminded her about her breathing as he began massaging her abdomen, which had hardened with the contraction. “It’s a long story.” His fingers stroked upward and outward toward her hip bones, which he hoped would soothe the pressure and ease the pain.
“I’m obviously not going anywhere for a while,” she said through clenched teeth, “so tell.”
Sax had been to the classes. Watched the damn films, which, although he’d never admit it, even to her, had made him come as close to passing out as he had during Navy SEAL BUD/S drown proofing, where he was required to do a series of exercises in the pool while his hands and feet were bound.
He’d even reread the book three times in the past two days, preparing for this as diligently as he had for Hell Week and every mission he’d been on.
But nothing had prepared him for the sight of the woman he loved more than life in such obvious pain.
Reminding himself that his mission was to ease Kara’s discomfort, not add to it by having her worry about his own, he forced himself to remain calm as he filled her in on his and Trey’s adventure, leaving out the panicky parts and the F-words.
“This is going to be a walk in the park,” he promised.
“You’re as big a liar as the nurse-practitioner who taught the damn class.” The contraction passed. She lay back against the pillows.
Her face was glistening with fresh sweat, her hair limp. But she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Sax had ever seen.
They made a great team, although she was doing all the work, while he was left to time her contractions, massage her abdomen, stroke her arms and legs to keep her circulation going, wipe her face with cool cloths, coax her on her breathing, feed her chips of ice, help her stay calm (not easy when every nerve in his body was more on edge than it had ever been, even while fighting the Taliban in the Kush), and, most important, the instructor had said, cheer her on as her friends and Trey took turns visiting.
“You’re doing great, chère,” he said, breathing in rhythm with her quick pants as she grew closer to delivery.
She was drenched in sweat.
The blue scrub shirt they’d put Sax in was soaked as well. More sweat dripped off his forehead onto their linked hands. With all their attention directed toward the mirror that allowed them to watch the birth, neither noticed.
“It’s got hair,” Sax said, enthralled by the sight.
“Of course my child has hair,” Kara said indignantly.
“I thought babies were all born bald. Like Uncle Fester.”
“Dammit, don’t make me laugh,” Kara complained on a sputtered laugh.
But the laugh seemed to ease the pain that had her panting again.
“My baby’s beautiful,” she insisted as the baby slid from her womb.
“She’s also a girl,” Dr. Parrish announced.
“Oh, my God.” Tears welled up in Kara’s eyes. “A little girl.”
“A daughter.” The thought was stunning. His own eyes stinging, Sax wiped the tears from her wet face. He’d never loved any woman as much as he loved this one. He’d thought he couldn’t love her more.
Until today.
“I am,” he said, as he lowered his lips to hers, “the freaking luckiest guy on the planet.”
62
Dillon was right about the storm not being as bad as they drove away from the coast. The caller had informed Claire that the bus carrying the skiers home from the resort had hit a patch of black ice on the twisting, winding road over the coastal mountains and rolled over.
Desperate for details, all she could learn was that ambulances from several surrounding small towns were taking the children to a community hospital nearly sixty minutes away. At the moment, the caller from the highway patrol could give her no other details as to what condition Matt was in.
“He’s going to be all right,” Dillon assured her as he pulled into the hospital parking lot.
“Of course he is,” she agreed fervently, even as her nerves were screaming. “He’s got a game the day after tomorrow. And he’s never miss
ed a basketball game in his life.”
Basketball. He’d never been on skis before. What if he had injuries that could keep him from ever achieving the next step in his dream?
“He’ll make it,” Dillon said firmly after she’d shared that fear with him. “And on the offhand chance he did sustain some sort of basketball-ending injury, he’s young, with his entire life ahead of him. We’ll help him handle it, Claire.” He took hold of her hand and squeezed. “Together.”
The other parents began streaming into the hospital. All were frantic, adding to the chaos of the scene, overwhelming the small hospital staff.
Dillon immediately took charge, obtaining information, calming everyone down, and working with the doctors and nurses, two of whom turned out to be Army vets.
Watching him, she witnessed the deep core of inner strength and leadership qualities that had allowed him to lead a team of fellow soldiers on one of the most deadly and certainly nerve-racking missions in the military.
She also realized that his wealth of confidence, which she had on occasion mistakenly taken for chauvinism, was what must have kept him and his teammates alive in war zones, where he definitely wouldn’t have been playing games.
“Mr. and Mrs. Templeton?” a nurse asked as he found them in the waiting room.
“This is Ms. Templeton,” Dillon said, standing up. “I’m Dillon Slater, Matt’s coach.”
“Well, I’m sure he’d like to see you both. He’s in examining cubicle four. I’ll take you there.”
“How is he?” Claire asked, her heart in her throat.
“He has some bruises and contusions but nothing that’ll stop you from taking him home.” He handed them a clipboard with the paperwork. “Just fill out these forms and give them to the clerk at the front desk.”
He led them through what seemed to be a maze of hallways, then stopped at a curtain. “He’s all yours. And, I’m sure, ready to go home.”
