He watched Brody rub his knuckles against his jaw, hesitating. “Ian says you lost your wife two years ago?”
“Yeah. Seems like just yesterday. She was twenty-seven. Ian was four.”
“Helluva thing, man. I’m sorry.”
“I am, too.”
“What’s her name?”
“Gina,” Drew said, in a husky tone, appreciating the fact that Brody hadn’t used past tense.
Brody nodded, lips pursed. “So, have you met many people since you’ve been back?”
“Not many. Been…pretty focused on getting Ian settled, opening the gym.”
“Figured as much.” Brody worked a business card out of his shirt pocket and tucked it in the side pouch of Drew’s backpack. “Give me a call sometime when you’re feeling better. If you want to. I can introduce Ian to some friends around town.”
“He’d like that. Thanks.”
“You should join me and some of the other guys for a beer in town sometime. I know my wife would love to watch Ian for an evening. She loves kids.”
Drew had to marvel for a moment at the sheer unexpectedness of the offer. It was exactly the kind of small-town warmth he remembered. “I’ll do that.”
Ian bounded back up, his little hands stuffed full with orange flowers. “Mr. Brody? Here.” He thrust over a fistful of blossoms, then peered tentatively at his dad. “Do you like them, Daddy?”
“Love them. You did great, pal. Those are the best flowers in the whole field.”
Ian beamed.
“We gotta roll,” the gray-haired paramedic said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the parking lot. “Chopper’s in the air, and we have cops blocking off the lot to land her. You gonna…”
“Yeah,” Brody said, angling his head toward the ascending path.
“Okay, then. See you back there.”
Drew watched his son. The prospect of a helicopter ride seemed to have worked wonders on Ian’s perspective of the hellish day. Ian stooped and unzipped his Batman backpack, extracting the handmade card and holding it with reverence against his chest. Blinking up at Brody, he said, “Be sure the angels know it’s for my mommy, okay? Gina Kimball.” He studied his card for a moment. “I messed up this part right here, but Daddy says it’s still good.”
“It’s great, buddy. And cross my heart,” Brody said, drawing an X over his chest with one finger before gently taking the card. He waved it at Ian. “The angels will know exactly who this card is for.”
“’Kay.”
They started off in separate directions, then Ian stopped short. “Mr. Brody! Wait?”
Brody spun around, then trotted back. “Did I forget something, Ian?”
“Nuh-uh, but do you know a 9-1-1 lady named Lexy?”
Brody grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do. She talks to us and the police officers and firefighters on the radio and sends us out to help people like you and your dad. She’s a good friend of mine, too.”
Wide-eyed, Ian nodded. “She knows how to save lives, right?” he asked, his tone reverent.
“That she does.”
“Will you tell her I said hi?”
“Of course. Run along with your dad and the others, buddy. Get that helicopter ride.” He glanced at the precious card. “I’ll take good care of this for your mom. Don’t you worry.”
Ian flung himself around Brody’s legs for a quick hug, then trotted back down the path toward Drew, who reached out and took his hand.
More relaxed, Drew settled into the gurney for the ride. The other three paramedics bounced him up the trail toward the parking lot. Unintelligible radio chatter, the clomp of the paramedics’ boots, and a rhythmic whup, whup, whup of the helicopter rotor overhead cut through the mountain silence. Ian seemed at peace knowing his card would be delivered, and Drew thanked God that a kind voice over the phone had cared enough to help his child through what had to have been a terrifying stretch of minutes alone on the mountain. Fresh guilt stabbed at him.
Strange. In Virginia, he’d never thought of the people behind 9-1-1 as…well, real people. But this Lexy was a neighbor, a Gulcher. Someone he’d probably run into at the grocery store.
He didn’t know the woman. But he owed her.
Big-time.
He closed his eyes and made a mental note to thank her in a day or so for being there for Ian when he couldn’t.
For the first time since he’d moved his son away from the home he and Gina had created for their family, Drew felt a sense of rightness about his decision, a tentative thread of belonging, and the fierce desire to rebuild his and Ian’s broken lives into something whole again.
Lexy traversed the expanse of polished floor tiles between the bank of elevators and the circular nurses’ station. Yvette had been one of the first nurses hired when High Country Medical Center opened after the prom-night tragedy. Lexy could always gauge how busy the day had been by the number of ink pens Yvette had stuck into the ponytail knot on the back of her head.
Three. Hectic day.
Lexy’d have to pull out the kid gloves.
“Hey, Yvette!”
The nurse tucked her chin and peered over her reading glasses. “Well, hello there, Lex. Hang on a sec. Let me type this last note in before I lose my train of thought.”
As she listened to the rhythmic clickity-clacking of the keyboard, Lexy glanced at her wristwatch.
Eight-twenty. Darn.
Visiting hours were long over.
She’d planned on being here earlier, but wound up stuck in a meeting about the Troublesome Gulch Hero Award with the mayor, the chiefs and a couple of council members. But she knew Ian and his dad were on this floor somewhere, beyond the iron gates of the nurses’ station. If only she could get past the gatekeeper. Brody had texted her earlier to say the doctor had admitted Drew for a night of observation.
She knew it was late, but she wanted to meet the strong little guy from the call, to tell him face-to-face what a great job he’d done. She also asked if she could be the one to surprise him with the news that the city would be honoring him as a hero. It wasn’t something that could wait; they wanted to hold the ceremony in a week’s time. But she had to convince Yvette to bend the rules.
Which is exactly why Lexy swung by the diner on her way to the hospital. She glanced down at the bakery box on her lap—the ammo—then back toward the rule-loving nurse in front of her. The blue of the computer screen reflected in the lenses of Yvette’s readers as she finished the report.
The older woman hit a couple keys with a flourish, then pulled the glasses off her nose and set them on the counter.
“All done?” Lexy asked.
“All done.” She smiled, swiveling her office chair to face Lexy. “So. What brings you to the hospital this evening, young lady? I can probably guess, but—”
“What do you mean? I just wanted to see my very favorite nurse in the world. I’ve missed you. That’s all.” Lexy flashed her winningest smile. She knew how rapidly the Troublesome Gulch grapevine worked. Surely the whole town knew about the harrowing 9-1-1 call by now.
“Mmm-hmm.” Yvette glanced up at the clock and crossed her arms, but Lexy caught the subtle twitch of her lips. “Why does it sound like somebody has an ulterior motive?” she asked.
Lexy sagged. “Come on, Yvette. I’ll only be ten minutes and I’ll keep my voice down.”
“No can do. The patients need their rest.”
“Eight minutes,” Lexy implored. “And I’ll refill his water while I’m in there and fluff his pillows.”
“Already done. Try again.”
Lexy held up a bakery box. “Specially ordered peach pie from the Pinecone. Still warm. Eight little minutes.”
“It’s warm? You fight dirty.” Yvette took the box, lifted the lid and inhaled. She narrowed her eyes at Lexy as she mulled it over.
“Please?”
“Fine. Five minutes. Room nine. And I’ll deny it if you tell anyone I let you break visiting hours.”
<
br /> “You’re the best, Vettie,” Lexy said. “Enjoy!”
Yvette sighed, reaching into a drawer for a plastic fork. “I swear, the things I’ll do for pie.”
Lexy wheeled around and headed down the hall. She didn’t want to give the woman a chance to change her mind.
The light was low inside the quiet room, but the door stood partially open. She heard the zany zing-bop! sounds of the TV playing a cartoon, volume low, and chose not to knock. Instead, she eased the door open wider and entered silently.
A candy-striped curtain drawn halfway blocked her view of the top of the bed, but she could see the snow-white hospital blanket in two peaks near the bottom where it rested over Drew Kimball’s feet. The bright cartoon colors kaleidoscoped against the walls of the dim room.
Lexy maneuvered to the foot of the bed, heartbeat steady but fast, anxious to put faces to the voices on the most tense 9-1-1 call she’d handled in a long time.
There they lay, between the metal sidebars of the hospital bed. A big man, curiously innocent-looking in slumber. And, wow, gorgeous. Suntanned, strong jaw, dark blond hair accented with gold from the sun. And a little boy with similar coloring curled around him, like a koala nestled against the trunk of a tree.
The image snapped her back to her own life, her omnipresent feeling of discontent, and she realized, with a jolt, what was missing. Not a hobby. Not the ability to walk again. She didn’t need that to be happy.
She needed…this. The pure love tableau in front of her. She wanted to be the tree trunk to someone’s koala. She wanted the kind of unconditional love a child gave. Why had she never realized—
Lexy stifled a sigh. What good did it do, aching to hear the word Mommy? She’d had but one boyfriend, and that had been a high school thing. No boyfriend since, much less a husband, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted romance at this point. But, looking at Drew and Ian Kimball, she did feel the unexpected allure of parenthood, out there beyond her grasp.
Ding, ding, went the tones, alerting staff to an emergency announcement. The voice from the hallway speaker crackled through the room’s silence. “Dr. Carmody to the Emergency Department, stat. Dr. Carmody, to the Emergency Department, stat.”
Drew stirred. Lexy froze.
She desperately wanted not to get caught staring at two sleeping strangers. She rounded toward the door, but heard a familiar little voice.
“Are you another doctor?”
Busted. She turned back, an embarrassed smile on her face. Ian was sitting up in the bed, rubbing his fist into one eye, peering at her with the other. “No, I’m not a doctor.” She laid a finger over her lips. “I just wanted to see how your dad is doing, Ian. I’m—”
“Lexy!” Ian exclaimed, his bright eyes widening.
She winced, having forgotten that young kids talked at a high decibel level. “Well, yes, I—”
“I knew it! It’s your voice!”
Drew stirred, cleared his throat and woke up. “What’s all the racket, pal—” and then he saw her. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was—”
“Daddy!” Ian cried out, pointing her way. “It’s Lexy!”
“Miss Lexy,” he reminded her.
“It’s Miss Lexy. She talked and I knew it was her. She came to see us!”
Drew’s eyes met hers, and Lexy’s tummy contracted. “I’m so sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Kimball. I came by to meet Ian, but I didn’t mean for you to wake up.” Yvette was going to kill her. “Go on back to sleep. I’ll just—”
“No, please. Stay. Ian’s been dying to meet you.” Drew propped himself on one elbow and fumbled around for the control to raise the upper part of the bed.
Lexy saw it dangling from its cord through the side rails. “Here, let me get that. It fell.”
As she moved forward and retrieved the dangling bed-control, Ian scrambled to his knees. “Hey,” he said, with the innocent curiosity of a child. “How come you’re in that chair, Miss Lexy?”
Chapter Four
Drew blinked when he heard his son’s question, and only then noticed Lexy was in a wheelchair. Granted, he’d been pretty much lost in her jungle-green eyes, but still. How could he have missed the chair?
More importantly, how could Ian have asked that unbelievably inappropriate question? His stomach plunged with dismay. “Ian. Son, it’s rude to ask personal questions when you’ve just met some—” He watched in frozen horror as Ian, clearly tuning him out at the moment, scrambled over the rails and hurtled himself toward Lexy. He scaled the side of Lexy’s chair and jabbed his way up onto her lap like a little tree monkey with zero forethought about his actions.
Drew cringed inwardly. “Ian! Be careful.” His face flamed as he looked into Lexy’s almost catlike, tilted eyes. He flipped his hands, sheepish. At a loss for how to make this better. “I’m so…sorry he came at you like a wild animal. I’ve been trying to break him of that habit, and you can see how well it’s going.”
To his surprise, Lexy smiled at him, carefree and warm. Instead of handing him the controller, she raised the head of his bed until he sat nearly upright, then lowered the side rail between them. “Is that better?” she asked.
“Uh…yes. Thanks.”
She passed him the remote.
He quickly shut off the TV and raked his palm through his hair. “Listen, are you—” gulp “—okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m fine. That’s one benefit of paralysis, at least in my case,” she said, in an easy tone. “All those bony little knees and elbows don’t hurt.”
Paralysis.
Drew didn’t quite know what to say to that.
I’m sorry?
What happened?
It was none of his business, and it didn’t matter anyway. He just hadn’t pictured Ian’s superhero, Lexy, in a wheelchair, he supposed. Then again, he hadn’t pictured her at all.
“What’s praliss?” Ian asked, gazing reverently into Lexy’s eyes. He reached up and twirled some of her dark hair around his finger as if doing so were the most natural thing in the world.
“For Pete’s sake, Ian—”
“It’s okay. Really. Kids are curious, and I don’t mind answering questions.” She looked down and chuckled when Ian lifted her locket and examined it, rubbing his fingers along the oval edge. “Frankly, I wish more adults had the courage to just ask me about it instead of tiptoeing around the fact.”
“I can understand that,” Drew said. He hoped she didn’t think he was tiptoeing.
“What is it, Lexy? Praliss.”
“Miss Lexy,” Drew reminded him of how he’d been taught to politely address an adult.
“What is it, Miss Lexy?” Ian asked.
She settled her arm around Ian, and Drew watched him snuggle his head into Lexy’s neck the way he used to with Gina. His heart jolted, and he gripped the blanket covering him in his fists.
“Paralysis,” she pronounced carefully, “is when you can’t move certain parts of your body anymore, honey.”
That got his attention. He pulled away to gaze at her. “But you’re movin’. I saw you.”
“Yes, well. For me, it’s my legs. I can move them a little, but not like you or your dad can.”
“Why not?”
“I was in a bad car accident a long time ago, when I was a teenager. I injured my spine.”
Ian blinked at her, blasé. “So now you can’t walk no more? Ever?”
Drew wanted to sink into a hole. He pushed himself into a fully upright position on the bed, then snapped his fingers once to get Ian’s attention. “Ian Andrew Kimball,” he said, in a low, firm tone, “It’s impolite to ask so many nosy questions. Apologize to Miss Lexy.”
Ian’s happy expression dimmed. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay, Ian. But you’re a good boy for doing what your daddy told you.” Her gaze lifted to Drew’s face.
She winked, and fireworks exploded inside Drew’s body.
“No, I can’t walk much anymore. I stand for short bits
of time with help, and when I’m feeling really strong, I can move around with two crutches. But it’s much easier to use my chair.”
“Oh. Does that make you sad?”
Lexy seemed to consider that, as nothing more than a legitimate question from a curious child. “Maybe a little at first, but not anymore. My chair’s a tool. I do all the same things I’ve always done, just a little bit differently. That’s all. I used to run, but now I do triathlons using my wheelchair and a special bike. I played on the volleyball team in high school, and I still play, but now it’s with other people who use chairs.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “I ski. I dance. I swim almost every day. I even drive my own car. All kinds of fun things.”
“That’s cool. Can you hike?”
She flicked a quizzical look at Drew. “Hike?”
Drew twisted his mouth to the side. “We hike every weekend. It’s our family hobby.”
A fleeting shadow moved through Lexy’s expression. Or maybe he just imagined it. Either way, her tone was light when she said, “Ah, I see. Well, there are a few hiking trails in Troublesome Gulch that accommodate my chair.”
“But not on the regular trails? Not even with those crutches?”
“Ian!” Drew frowned. His face was on fire.
Lexy gave him a look, as if to say, it’s okay. A beat passed. “Not all of them, no.”
“Oh. We love hiking,” Ian said, sounding deflated.
“Well, that’s good,” she said easily. “Hiking is fun.” With one arm around Ian’s slight shoulders, Lexy held out her hand to Drew. “We’re doing this all backward, I’m afraid. I’ve been so caught up with your son here—”
“As if you had a choice,” Drew said, ruefully.
“True.” Lexy laughed. “But we haven’t formally introduced ourselves. Lexy Cabrera,” she said. “Obviously, you’re Drew Kimball, of 9-1-1 fame.”
“Unfortunate fame, that. But, yes. Yours truly.” He slid his palm against her small but surprisingly strong hand.
Lexy’s Little Matchmaker Page 4
