Lightning Strikes

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “She won’t.” Noah wished he could be that sure. Maybe she was having serious second thoughts about marrying Hal, thoughts that were much more than premarital jitters. But like he’d told her, he could understand, and unlike their mother, he wouldn’t pass judgment.

  “See that she doesn’t.”

  “How ’bout Hal’s mother? She’s not here.”

  “That’s her problem,” Melissa said in her haughtiest tone. “Just because she’s without manners doesn’t mean my daughter has to be.”

  Noah curbed his temper. “God, Mother, you’re a piece of work.”

  Before she could make a suitable comeback, Noah got up and made his way back up the aisle, conscious of the stares and the smiles thrown his way. He forced himself to be civil.

  The makeshift foyer was still deserted. He mouthed an expletive.

  That curse, however, was drowned out by another loud clap of thunder, while rain, mingled with hail, sounded like gunshots assaulting the building. Suddenly, the lights outside the candlelit hall went dark.

  Another curse left his mouth just as Patsy rounded the corner. For a moment, she stood still, illuminated against the darkness by candlelight, while her eyes scanned the premises with the intensity of radar. Once they landed on him, she dashed toward him, grabbed him around the neck and jerked his head down to her mouth.

  “Hey, what—”

  “Just listen,” she said tersely.

  Moments later, Noah lifted his head and sucked in a harsh breath. Finally, he responded in a low, dead tone, “Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

  Leaving Patsy chewing on her bottom lip and wringing her hands, Noah strode back down the aisle and stopped briefly to speak to his mother, who, with the palm of her hand, smothered a cry.

  He then moved to the front of the chapel.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please, may I have your attention.”

  While waiting for the chatter to cease, he cut his eyes to his mother, who looked like she’d been kicked in the teeth. She had been, and for once he actually felt sorry for her.

  Then, realizing every eye in the room was on him, he cleared his throat and spoke in a clear, steady tone. “I’m sorry, but there’s not going to be a wedding. The bride’s disappeared!”

  Chapter Two

  She was going to get run over.

  That was a fact. The only question was who was going to hit her.

  But then, what did she expect when she was standing in the middle of the highway? Cold rain slapped Randi’s face so hard it actually stung like tiny switches. Her top teeth were digging into her lower lip so hard it was bleeding, which kept her from speaking. That wasn’t a problem, however, as she had no one to speak to.

  She was alone.

  Another sob expanded the knot in her throat at the exact moment she saw the headlights of an oncoming vehicle slicing through the darkness of the rain. Thank God! Someone was brave enough to be out in this godawful weather. But, she cautioned herself between shivers, excited was the last thing she should feel. Only crazies would be on the road on a night like this.

  Still, she was thankful another human was in sight, even though a childhood warning jumped to the forefront of her mind: don’t get into a car with strangers. In today’s climate, that warning carried even more weight. But she was not a child, and she had no choice.

  Desperation drove her. And fear. And the cold. She couldn’t remember ever being chilled down to the bone the way she was now. The rain, suddenly turning more violent, more than stung. It pierced her skin like sharp icicles.

  Without further thought, Randi lifted the front of her long dress and ran toward the vehicle. Despite the fact that it was an eighteen-wheeler, she stepped in front of its headlights and waved one hand frantically over her head.

  At first she didn’t think the truck was going to stop. Later, she realized the driver had to swerve to keep from hitting her. Then, a few yards beyond her, the driver slammed on the brakes, but he didn’t stop. His tires spun for the longest time on a highway that was slicker than polished glass.

  Once the truck screeched to a halt, Randi, with her dress still hiked, dashed to the door, trying to ignore the fear that hammered inside her. Again, what if whoever was behind that wheel was a rapist? Or worse?

  For a second she paused, then, throwing caution to the horrible weather, she reached for the door handle. At the same time, a man leaned over and thrust it open.

  “Get in before you drown!”

  Though it was difficult in the cumbersome wedding dress, Randi scrambled inside the warm cab. She didn’t know how long she sat there, unable to do anything but shake. Her chest felt as though it was going to burst, and her breath came in short, gasping spurts. Finally, she leaned her head back against the seat and fought off a round of dizziness.

  “Sumbitch, lady, you ain’t gonna pass out on me, are you?”

  Randi heard the driver’s hoarse voice, edged with an accent she identified as Southern. She also felt his eyes on her, yet she was powerless to respond.

  Somehow, though, she had to get a grip. She couldn’t indulge herself any longer. Time was critical. However, she owed him an explanation, and he probably wouldn’t budge until she gave him one. But she had to get the hell out of Grand Springs.

  Now.

  “Lady, you mind tellin’ me what the hell’s going on?”

  “Please, can you just drive?” Randi pleaded through teeth that were banging against one another. She didn’t know whether fear or the bone-numbing cold was the main culprit. But it didn’t matter. Again, all that was important was moving on down the road. How could she make this cowboy understand that?

  With the thought uppermost in her mind, she whipped her head around and stared at him. A mean flash of lightning chose that moment to rip across the sky, allowing her to see his features. He was a burly man in his fifties, a cowboy with a hat, jeans and boots. And a wad of tobacco lodged between his lower lip and gums.

  Yuck.

  Randi twisted her head back around, but not before she saw him reach for the coffee can beside him on the seat and spit into it. A stream of brown juice hit the can with a pinging sound.

  Double yuck.

  Her stomach rebelled, and for a minute she thought she would be sick. Breathe deeply, Randi told herself, thinking she should be grateful that someone had come along and, without running over her, picked her up.

  While she might not chew tobacco, she wouldn’t win any beauty contest, not by a long shot. Even without a mirror, she’d bet her last dollar she resembled someone out of a horror movie. Her hair was hanging in strings around her cheeks. Her face was devoid of makeup, the combined tears and rain having washed it off. And her once-lovely white gown was splattered with mud, making it a candidate for the garbage.

  And her shoes—well, they were soggy boats that would barely stay on.

  Still, she was safe. Or was she?

  “Please, will you just drive, mister.” Her voice continued down its shaky path, although the warmth in the truck had made a dent into her bones, easing the pain there.

  “Hell, I was thinking of pulling over until this mess stopped.”

  “You can’t do that!” Panic underlined her every word.

  Apparently he picked up on that. His tone softened when he said, “Even an old dumb Texas cowboy knows trouble when he sees it. And you’re in trouble, right?”

  She would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. Her, in trouble? Of course she was in trouble, she wanted to shout. Even this Texas road warrior couldn’t be in the habit of picking up strange, bedraggled women dressed in mud-soaked wedding gowns.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked, giving her a quick, sharp look before cutting his eyes back on the road.

  “No! Yes! I mean, I just want you to drive.”

  “By the way, my name’s Alton Evers.”

  She nodded.

  “What’s yours.”

  “Er, Randi.”

  “Okay, Randi, any p
lace in particular you wanna go?”

  Again she shook her head. “I’ll go wherever you’re going.”

  Alton shoved his hat back and scratched his forehead. “Damn, ain’t that something? Ain’t never had a woman tell me that, especially one who was dressed in a wedding gown.” He chuckled. “Well me, I’m heading to Phoenix.”

  Randi’s stomach did another somersault. If she’d had any other alternative, she would’ve bounded out of that truck. But she didn’t. She had to stay put and pray that he would shift gears and drive on.

  She waited with bated breath, almost tasting his curiosity. Once they were on their way, she would tell him her story. Now all she could do was plead with him through frightened eyes not to ask any question—just drive. Suddenly, she cringed as another flash of lightning and bolt of thunder jarred the truck.

  “Dammit, if my rear didn’t tell me better, I’d say I was back in good ole Texas. You know, we have these kinda storms every spring. They’re worse than this, if you can believe that. Why, lightning’s been known to singe the hair right off a man’s arms, honest to Pete.”

  “Please, would you just drive.”

  Alton acted as if he wanted to argue with her, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted into drive and pulled back onto the highway.

  “I’m here to tell you,” he said into the silence, leaning over the steering wheel, “we’re gonna be moving slower than molasses running uphill. I ain’t about to wreck my semi or myself for nothin’ or nobody.”

  “I understand,” Randi said in a strangled voice. “I just appreciate you picking me up.”

  “Ain’t no problem. Glad for the company, especially on a night like tonight.”

  Only she didn’t think she’d be good company, Randi thought, wanting to tell him that, but deciding against it. He’d figure that out soon enough.

  It was all she could do to keep her fractured mind and body together, yet she felt a sense of relief that at least they were finally putting distance between herself and Grand Springs.

  Her blood curdled when she thought of what she had done. Not only had she run out on her wedding and Hal, her husband-to-be, but she had run out on her family, as well.

  Hal would be livid, no question about that. Her brother, Noah, bless his soul, would be worried out of his mind. And her mother, Melissa, would be both livid and worried. At this juncture, Randi refused to dwell on their feelings. Anyway, to do so would be wasting good energy, energy that she had to conserve since she had no idea what the future held.

  Another shiver ran through her.

  “You still cold, miss?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered before focusing his attention back onto the treacherous road.

  It was bad enough that she’d decided at the last minute she couldn’t go through with the wedding, but…

  “You feel like talkin’?”

  His rough voice ripped into her thoughts. Her throat constricted again. “Not really.”

  “What did your old man do, knock you around?”

  “Excuse me?” Randi asked, his question jolting her.

  “Did he punch you or what?”

  “No…no.”

  “So why’d you cut out on him?”

  She gave him her full attention. “Look, I appreciate you helping me, and when I can, I’ll compensate you for it, but—”

  “You don’t want me askin’ no questions?”

  “That’s right,” she said in a small voice.

  “No problem.”

  If only things were that simple for her. If only she hadn’t overheard that conversation. But she had. She caught her breath and held it, not wanting to think about what had happened next.

  Who were those men she’d heard talking? After realizing she’d heard them, they had chased her. She paused, pulling air into her dry lungs. And both had had guns!

  Dear Lord, what had she stumbled into?

  If the blackout hadn’t occurred when it did, would they have found her and killed her?

  Yes.

  From the menacing looks on their faces, she was sure she would’ve been dead. But for now, she decided, glancing again at the driver, she was safe.

  Thanks to this tobacco-chewing Texas gentleman, she was putting distance between herself and the man she didn’t want to marry and the evil men who for some reason wanted to end her life.

  Chapter Three

  Amanda Jennings stepped back from the gurney while smiling down into the patient’s face, a young man who had been brought into the ER after having received a nasty clunk on the head. He had been working overtime at a local factory. He’d more than likely been so tired he’d been careless.

  She could identify with the former, but not the latter. In her job, she couldn’t afford to be careless. People’s lives were in her hands, a responsibility she had never taken lightly or shirked.

  “Feeling any better, Mr. Epps?” Amanda asked.

  He gave her a lame smile. “Much better, Doc. Thanks.”

  “You’re more than welcome. Try and get some rest, okay? Your CT scan showed a slight concussion, so we’re going to keep a close eye on you.” Amanda switched her gaze to her friend Karen Sloane, a resident in internal medicine who was pulling an extra shift in the ER. “Doctor, let me know if there’s any change in Mr. Epps. I’ll be in my office.”

  Karen nodded, then turned to the patient, her gray eyes twinkling. “You’re stuck with me now.”

  “Do you hear me complaining? Hell, I’m surrounded by two good-looking women.”

  “Uh-oh,” Amanda said, “he’s for sure on the mend.”

  Light laughter followed her departure out of trauma room one and into the hall of Vanderbilt Memorial, where she was working overtime, pulling a double shift.

  Considering the stormy weather, the ER, where she was permanently employed, was unusually quiet. Give it time, she told herself with a downward curve of her full lips. This kind of weather was a perfect breeding ground for wrecks and various other accidents, and it was Friday night, which, regardless of the circumstances, was always busy.

  Amanda made it to her office on the first floor, where admitting and the emergency room were both located. Once in her tiny cubbyhole, barely large enough for a desk, filing cabinet and cot, she released a sigh and pushed a thick lock of blond hair behind her ear.

  God, she was tired, yet she didn’t want to go home. Besides, she was needed. Due to the horrendous weather that had begun earlier in the day, only a skeleton crew was on hand. Flooding and mud slides had made many of the roads impassable. The police and other city officials had advised people to stay indoors.

  So far, so good, Amanda reminded herself again, though she wasn’t about to become smug. “Calm before the storm” jumped to the forefront of her mind just as a clap of thunder suddenly rocked the building. Amanda flinched, then frowned. As predicted, her complacency hadn’t lasted long. In all the years she’d lived in Grand Springs, which was the majority of her life, this was the worst weather this town of sixty thousand had ever experienced.

  If the rain didn’t quit soon, she envisioned the small tourist town washing down the mountainside and disappearing. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen, or at least she prayed it wouldn’t. Tourism was a major source of income, since the small city lay within easy reach of the best ski slopes, lakes and hiking trails Colorado had to offer.

  However, she would be glad when the storm had passed and things settled back to normal. Everyone’s nerves seemed to be on edge, hers included.

  But her agitation didn’t stem from the weather alone. She wished… No. She wouldn’t do that to herself. She refused to let her thoughts wander down the forbidden path that she had declared off-limits. She wasn’t going to indulge herself now, not when she was happier with herself and her work than she’d been in months. She loved being a doctor, and she loved Grand Springs.

  “Anyone home?”

  The unexpected interruption into her thoughts br
ought her head around. The director of the emergency room, Carl Stanley, had opened the door and was standing on the threshold, smiling.

  “Inside or out?” she asked, returning his smile.

  He got her message because he laughed. “Don’t feel bad. My brain’s been on hiatus, too.”

  She couldn’t ask for a smarter or nicer boss, although he certainly didn’t resemble a doctor. He was big and burly with bushy hair and beard. In fact, he often looked downright sloppy, as though he needed a good scrubbing. She suspected that was because of his grungy fingertips and teeth yellowed from years of smoking. Yet nothing could overshadow his sharp mind and talented hands.

  “Come on in,” Amanda said, “although I was about to head for the lounge and grab a quick cup of coffee.”

  Dr. Stanley opened the door wider, than stepped aside with the sweep of his arm. “Let’s go. I could use a cup myself.”

  Once they were in the large room, replete with a refrigerator and microwave plus a metal table and chairs, and an uncomfortable-looking cot, they didn’t speak until they each had a cup of strong coffee in hand and were seated at the table.

  “By the way, thanks for doubling.”

  “No problem,” Amanda answered.

  “I wish all my staff were as eager and accommodating as you.”

  “For the most part, they are.”

  Carl was quiet for a moment, rubbing his beard. “How would you like to be my assistant?”

  Amanda gasped and her eyes widened. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. Vanderbilt’s on the verge of getting a huge grant that will make that possible, both professionally and monetarily.”

  “Well, I’m flattered, of course.”

  “But—”

  Amanda flushed, but she didn’t shift her gaze when she said, “You’ve heard, haven’t you?”

  “That you want to leave ER and go into private practice—into sports medicine, to be exact. You’re right, I’ve heard. And I’m not happy.”

  “So this is your way of keeping me chained to Vanderbilt?”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No, actually, it’s very flattering and I’m honored.”