Love By Accident

by Michelle Beattie

  "So, who got your job? Anyone I know?"

  Before Ted could answer a deep voice spoke from behind her. "Yeah, me."

  Lauren's stomach jumped up her throat as she recognized the voice. Matt. Oh my God, it was Matt! Part of her was thrilled. Part of her wanted to fly into his arms and give him a hug, tell him how much she'd missed him. How glad she was to see him again.

  But the other part of her knew she'd forfeited the right four years ago. Still, what should she do? Her hands clutched each other helplessly. She didn't want to see him in a wheelchair. She didn't want to see the anger in his eyes. It was enough that she heard the tremor of it in his voice.

  How could he be Ted's replacement? It didn't make sense.

  Steeling herself, feeling Ted's questioning gaze on her, she turned in her chair.

  Her breath whooshed out of her lungs.

  Instead of looking into his eyes, she had to scale her gaze up his long legs to his face. And then it hit her. He was standing. She looked about but there were no crutches, no braces or wheelchair nearby. He looked perfectly fine. He could walk!

  Matt jammed his hands into his pockets. His stance conveyed casualness. His face told another story. His mouth was a tight line and his forehead creased with his frown. A muscle in his jaw flexed.

  "Lauren."

  Bitterness and anger coated her name, making her wish it didn't belong to her. That the loathing aimed her way wasn't hitting its mark.

  Suddenly, like a freight train skidding off its tracks, memories slammed into her. Present faded into past. She saw Matt crawl into the back seat. She remembered her argument with Gil, could hear his voice as though he were in the room right along with Matt.

  Lauren felt the blast of each memory and wouldn't have been surprised if her body was recoiling with each blow.

  She blinked, but the Matt before her kept shifting into the Matt who had crawled into the car, then the Matt who had lain broken in the hospital bed.

  Her throat closed in. Her breath wheezed in her chest with each inhale. Lauren grasped the table, but it wasn't going to save her from the past that wanted to swallow her.

  Her head swam as memories pelted her. God, if only she'd had some warning, she could have braced for the assault. But there'd been no warning. Which was why she had to get out. She needed air and time. Time to accept this new truth. Matt wasn't paralyzed; he was here. Oh God, he was here. She hadn't ruined two lives. Head and heart pounding, Lauren came to her feet, grabbed her coat and purse from the back of the chair.

  "I have to go," she managed.

  Matt took a step toward her, his mouth twisting in anger, but Ted stood, grabbed his arm. Their exchange was lost over the trill of the bells as Lauren yanked open the doors and fled outside.

  TWO

  Carm?

  Carm? Come on!

  Facebook was showing her sister was online, she just wasn't responding. No doubt she was enthralled in at least two other conversations at the same time, not to mention keeping one going on her phone as every time Lauren tried calling she heard Carmen's recorded greeting. Lauren hadn't been able to wait any longer.

  Lauren typed again. Her fingers flew over the keys as though to convey the pounding in her chest with each strike of the letters.

  Where the hell are you?

  Finally the little chat bubble icon next to her sister's on-line nickname--Coastalbabe--popped up to say that Carm was typing a response.

  Where's the fire?

  Can I call you? I need to talk but your cell's going straight to voice mail.

  Sorry, it's dead.

  Dead cell phone. Why was Lauren surprised? She'd call on Carm's land line except Carm didn't have one.

  Guess who's here? She typed instead.

  Keith Urban ;-)

  Lauren ground her teeth; now was not the time to joke about Carm's Keith Urban fixation.

  Matt!

  Matt who?

  Matt Skarpinsky!

  A long pause followed. Lauren tapped her foot on the floor. Had Carm fallen off her chair? Lauren wouldn't blame her if she did, since she'd nearly done so herself when she'd heard Matt's voice.

  Holy shit. Where?

  At work. And Carm? He was walking!

  I thought he was paralyzed!

  Yeah, Lauren thought, so had she. When the nurses had said he'd had spinal injury and was unresponsive, it's what she had assumed. It was one of the reasons she'd run.

  So what did he say? What did you say?

  I said I had to go and I left.

  Again, she thought with a shake of her head. She'd never been proud of her decision to leave Waterton, but at the time, it had seemed the only option. Even the little bit it had taken her to pack her stuff and get a few things in order, she'd nearly come undone. Everything she'd touched was full of memories. Everywhere she'd looked, she'd seen what had been. What she'd believed to be true. And was slapped with what was lost forever. It had been the same last night. She knew Matt wouldn't understand, or care about her feelings, though.

  And really, she couldn't blame him.

  So you don't know how long he's in town for? Coastalbabe asked.

  Ted's retiring. Matt got his job. Lauren answered.

  Oh. Shit.

  Lauren pressed her hands over her mouth. Oh shit was right. Outside the dark window she knew the Rockies were there, granite guards which had always brought her refuge, made her feel safe. Tonight, their presence didn't offer any comfort. Matt was back.

  Her days of hiding were over.

  ***

  Matt Skarpinsky dropped his towel on the white plastic deck chair that was pushed against the wall and dove cleanly into the deep end of the pool. The chilled water closed over his body and cooled him. He needed it because he was sure as hell pissed off. He came up for air and flipped onto his back, easing into a steady rhythm of long strokes, his arms arcing past his ears and cutting into the water. The white concrete ceiling, industrial lights and metal beams left nothing to distract him from his turbulent thoughts.

  Lauren McKinnon. He'd thought of her constantly over the last few years. Thought about her, missed her, cursed her, and generally driven himself fucking nuts. Why had she abandoned him? Why hadn't she at least left a note explaining? A note saying goodbye. Did she think of him at all? Did she even care? Had she ever? Christ.

  He rolled onto his side, enjoying the feel of his muscles warming up, loosening. He'd taken it all for granted as a kid, even as a young man. Running, walking, jumping. It had nearly all been stolen from him in a blinding moment he didn't remember.

  When he got too cocky, when he became too complacent with his health, he replayed the devastating words the doctors had spoken. Because he knew how easy it was to lose everything. The doctors had warned him from the beginning that his prognosis didn't look good.

  Matt had refused to believe it. Only the determination to prove them all wrong had kept him going. It had given him a focus, an outlet for his anger, his grief. There had been many times along his road to recovery when he'd stumbled on that belief and doubted he'd ever again swim laps in a pool. Luckily for him, those moments--once he'd yanked himself back from drowning in the pity pool--had only fuelled him harder until he'd proven every single doctor wrong.

  He moved onto his belly, eased into a breaststroke. His muscles were warm now, his breathing even as he bobbed in and out of the water. The pool was empty except for an old guy on the other side who was doing the doggy paddle. Good for him, for not wasting a moment of his life.

  Matt lived by that rule. Hell, he'd always figured he had his whole life ahead of him to do things. Why rush? It took eighteen long months of physical therapy and bone-deep pain to make him see just how wrong he'd been. Not only about the time he had to accomplish things either. He'd been wrong about Lauren, too.

  Reaching the edge, Matt slipped out of the pool, dripping water onto the rough deck surface. He opted against the steam room and whirlpool and rinsed off in the shower before changing bac
k into his jeans and sweatshirt. He stuffed his trunks and wet towel into his duffel bag, finger-combed his hair and put on his fleece-lined jean jacket.

  Outside, the chilly mountain air was filled with a damp earthy smell and the promise of winter. Matt inhaled deep, beeped open his black Corvette, and settled into the leather seat, his thoughts stubbornly stuck on Lauren.

  He thumped the steering wheel. Of all the scenarios he'd envisioned when he'd thought of their coming face to face after all this time, he hadn't imagined the one that had taken place. She'd taken one look at him, blanched, and high-tailed it out the door. No "hello", no, "hey, glad to see you're all right", "glad to see you can use your legs again. Sorry I didn't stick around to find out for myself". Nope, not even close. She'd ducked and run. Just like she had four years ago.

  And just like it had then, his heart had bled when she'd fled.

  But this time was different. Now he could walk, he wasn't confined to a bed, wasn't unconscious, wasn't helpless to do anything.

  No, by God, this time he was going to do something.

  ***

  Matt's new office wasn't fancy, but it was bigger than he'd expected. Twelve by twelve, a window to keep an eye on his staff, a four-drawer metal file cabinet and a coat rack. He walked to the desk, which took up a good chunk of the floor space, and eyed the wooden rolling chair that didn't look the least bit comfortable.

  "Well?" Ted asked from his side.

  "Beats the cubicles."

  "Wait until you add your snow shoes, skis, poles and rain gear. Then it'll be real cozy."

  "Cozy," Matt mumbled and took his chair, smoothing his hands over a desk surface desperately in need of a sanding and varnish.

  "How does it feel?"

  "Rough." Then, knowing what Ted meant, he added, "and right."

  "I saw your application, I don't have any doubt they hired the right guy. And since I'm rarely wrong..." He pointed to the bank of drawers on the left side of the desk. "I left you a file in there. A bear was found a couple of weeks ago, dead in some back country."

  "Natural causes?"

  "Hard to tell. Coyotes and birds had gotten to it, but it wasn't more than three years old."

  "If a hunter shot it, he'd take it for meat."

  "Yeah. Look, it was just the one, so it might be nothing, but I jotted down the information anyway. In case it turns out to be more."

  Matt looked at the drawer, blew out a breath. "I hope this is one of those times you're wrong."

  "Me too." Ted folded himself into one of the seats next to the door, then, without having to get up, pushed the door closed. Stretching his legs before him, Ted crossed his arms over his Parks jacket.

  "I didn't know you knew Lauren."

  Since Matt had excused himself as soon as Lauren had fled last night, he wasn't surprised Ted would have questions. Especially since he'd seen them talking and hugging through the café window. He'd had a moment watching when he'd wanted to race in and tell the old guy Lauren was too damn young for him, but then he'd remembered someone had told him Ted and his wife were moving to British Columbia.

  Even knowing that, however, Matt heard the edge in his voice when he replied, "We went to college together."

  "Ah, it didn't go well?"

  "No," Matt answered as a few scenes from college ran through his head, "it was great. We had the time of our lives."

  Ted frowned. "Look, I know it's not any of my business, and you don't know me from Adam, but Lauren's a good girl. Me and Joy, my wife, have really enjoyed getting to know her and we've come to think of her as another daughter. I don't like knowing she's upset, and after seeing you last night, she was visibly upset." He leaned forward. "She looked almost scared of you. I'd like to know why."

  Outside the office, a few of his staff cast inquiring glances at Matt's window. He couldn't say he blamed them, especially considering the serious looks on both his and Ted's faces.

  "The only reason Lauren is scared of me is because she knows she can't hide anymore."

  "If you--"

  "I'm entitled to answers!" Matt said coming to his feet as Ted did.

  Ted blinked, paused a moment. "Answers?"

  Now it was Matt's turn to hesitate. He shook his head, expelled a deep breath and sat back down. "She didn't tell you about the accident?"

  "Accident? What accident?"

  Matt waited for Ted to get comfortable again and then told him what he knew, or rather what he'd been told since he didn't remember anything until the time he regained consciousness.

  "I never saw her again. Not until last night."

  Ted gave a long, low whistle. "Did you know she was here when you applied for the transfer?"

  "Yeah," Matt said on a deep sigh, "I knew." He wasn't going to divulge how, because if Lauren ever found out...

  Ted shook his head. "I never expected this. I thought I'd have to try to take you on if you'd hurt her in any way." Ted chuckled. "But after seeing those arms and shoulders," he said, angling his chin toward Matt's short-sleeved sage green uniform shirt, "I'm damn glad I don't have to."

  Matt grinned. He was almost sorry he and Ted couldn't have worked together, since he seemed to be a stand-up guy. "That's okay," he said. "When I saw you hugging Lauren through the window last night I thought I'd have to do some grandstanding of my own, since she's way too young for you."

  Ted's laugh filled the room, but his eyes were beacons on Matt's. "So it's not all about friendship, is it?"

  Thinking back to his secret crush on Lauren all those years she'd been with Gil, to the long days he'd mourned the loss of her presence in his life after the accident. To the anger which boiled if he'd thought too long about how she'd abandoned him when he'd needed her most. To the way his heart had squeezed when she'd looked at him again after all these years.

  "No," he admitted. "It's not all about friendship."

  THREE

  Saturday morning dawned damp and foggy with the dewy mist hovering like an old granny. Lauren stood on the small porch of her two-bedroom house. The brown and orange-trimmed house needed to be rescued by an extreme makeover, but she could afford the mortgage and utilities, if not the flooring and new porch it desperately needed.

  Behind her and down a few streets the train chugged by. Though she couldn't see much of the Rockies, she felt them. She'd heard of some people feeling claustrophobic if they stayed in the mountains too long. Something about not being able to see for long distances. For Lauren, it had the opposite effect. Within their granite shadow she felt encircled by strength and longevity.

  Lauren pulled on her thin gloves, tugged the zipper of her jacket to her throat and grabbed her hazing stick. Jumping off the porch to avoid the rotting steps, she landed on the brown grass.

  The multi-colored ribbons attached to the blade of the hockey stick swished in the quiet morning. Hazing. She'd done it as a ranger countless times, waving the length of wood, letting the bright colors and the crinkling of ribbons and crepe paper scare off the wandering elk and deer that attracted throngs of tourists. It was a natural, chemical-free, low impact way of keeping both the animals and the people safe.

  It was part of her routine. If she caught the morning shift, she hazed in the evenings and vice-versa if she had an evening shift. On days off, like today, she preferred the morning, going up past the school.

  Technically, she wasn't supposed to do it, but Ted let her. The first time he'd caught her doing it, she'd panicked. She'd quickly explained how she'd seen some rangers do it. He wasn't thrilled about her doing it, but she'd lied and said she really only did it to protect herself on her walks. She never actually went out of her way to clear any animals from town.

  Thankfully he'd let it go, and because Ted let it slide so had his staff, for which Lauren was extremely grateful. It was hard to be back in the mountains and not yearn for her old job, but she'd vowed not to be a ranger again. It seemed a fitting punishment for what she'd done to Gil and Matt.

  Matt. She'd hardly slep
t last night thinking of him and what it meant to have him so close. To be able to see him again, see him walking again. Despite the anxiety of wondering about their impending confrontation, she was thrilled he could walk. Of course had she stuck around, she'd have known.

  "Too late for that," she muttered, as she crossed the quiet street.

  Lauren headed up the sidewalk toward the school. The playground was empty; the slides looked cold and lonely. The swings swayed with the barely-there breeze. The edges of the field blurred in the fog. She walked the perimeter anyway, in case there were any elk hiding and contemplating a morning jaunt through the school grounds.

  The trees were half bare now, with brown and orange leaves crunching underneath her feet. They'd been lucky to avoid snow so far, though the skiers were chomping at the bit to get on the slopes. For herself, she didn't mind the delay. Winters were long enough in Alberta.

  A familiar white truck with the green Parks logo rolled to her side and stopped. Matt came around the hood of his vehicle, not a hint of a limp in his stride. God, how was it even possible? How was it possible that he looked healthier, more alive now then he had before the accident?

  She wished he'd smile at her, tease her the way he used to. That, somehow, he'd forgive the unforgivable. But there was no humor in the blue gaze drilling into hers.

  He gestured to her stick. "Do you do this often?"

  "Why?"

  "Last I heard it wasn't your job anymore."

  Her hand tightened around the wood. "It's not hurting anything."

  Matt shook his head, unconvinced. "First, you're not armed if an elk decides to charge. Second, it's not your job, is it? And third, it's illegal."

  She tipped her chin up, shooting for cocky. No doubt if he knew just how much hazing meant to her he'd strip her of the pleasure, if only as punishment for what she'd put him through.

  "So charge me."

  His grin held no warmth. "Don't tempt me. And don't think you'll get off as easy as a three-hundred dollar fine this time."