The Single Dad's Redemption (Aspen Creek Crossroads Book 3)

by Roxanne Rustand

  Like voices in a dream, he heard the sound of Keeley shouting. Felt her superhuman, adrenaline-charged efforts to bring them in to safety.

  Now he saw distant lights flashing through the darkness.

  And then somehow they hit the rocks along the shore and Kyle was lifted from his arms.

  Coughing, Connor staggered to higher ground and when his legs wobbled he dropped, his forehead on his upraised knees. Someone draped a blanket over his shoulders.

  Flashlights swung through the area as more people arrived and milled around. From the depths of his foggy awareness he heard an old man crying.

  Oh, God. Please, no. Had the boy drowned in his arms, even as they were trying to escape the river? Connor’s heart clenched on a wave of searing grief. Please, please. Let him be okay. Please...

  Chapter Twelve

  Keeley hurried into the emergency room at the tiny Aspen Creek hospital, her heart in her throat.

  Tom Benson, one of the regular ushers at church, sat behind the admittance desk and looked up. “Quite a night, eh?”

  Her pulse pounding, she brushed all pleasantries aside. “I’m here for Connor Rafferty. The EMTs brought him here but I couldn’t keep up with them on the highway. Is he okay?”

  Tom waved her toward the waiting room. “We wanted to put him on a gurney and take him into the ER, but he’s refusing to be seen. I hear he just wants to go home.”

  Her hand at her throat, she stared at him. “But is he okay?”

  Tom shrugged. “Ask him—he’s in the waiting room. He hasn’t been the most cooperative patient we’ve ever had, believe me. But he has a head injury, and if he wants to risk keeling over, that’s his right.”

  “Head injury?” Her heart in her throat, she spun around and headed for the waiting room around the corner, where she found a half dozen dazed people wrapped in blankets, looking shell-shocked.

  Connor sat by himself in the corner, his head leaning back against the wall. Weariness etched his face. A jagged cut from his temple to the corner of his jaw still seeped blood; his hands were covered with scrapes and several deeper cuts.

  His dark hair appeared matted on one side—probably even more blood.

  She hurried to his side and sank into the chair next to him. “I’d just gone to bed when I heard the sirens go off in town, and then I heard about the flash flood on the radio. I came as fast as I could. Are you all right?”

  He slid a glance at her, nodded faintly, then closed his eyes again.

  She glanced around the room and realized that others were in the same shape. Exhausted, with bruises and lacerations. “From the looks of everyone, this could have been a terrible tragedy.”

  A haggard man with gray hair appeared in the doorway, his arm wrapped tightly around the shoulders of a dazed, muddy boy of maybe nine or ten. They both walked into the room and headed straight for Connor. The man extended a hand.

  When Connor stood to accept his handshake the man turned it into a bear hug. Then he enveloped Keeley in a hug, as well.

  He stepped back with tears in his eyes. “I can never, ever, repay you for what you did tonight.”

  “Right place, right time,” Connor said. “I’m just glad I was there and that Keeley came to help.”

  “I didn’t stop praying from the moment Kyle raced off to get his puppy out of the creek.” The man’s voice broke and he shook his head slowly, his eyes closed at the painful memory. “When that flash flood hit and they disappeared, I figured I’d never see either of them alive again. You were the answer to my prayers.”

  Connor glanced at Keeley. “This is Bill Gordon. He and his grandsons were camping, too.” Connor turned back to the older man. “Will Kyle be all right?”

  Bill clapped Connor on the shoulder and sank wearily into the chair at Connor’s other side. His younger grandson stretched out on the floor. “The docs tell me he’ll be fine. He’s off at Radiology right now to check his left arm, and they’ll probably keep him overnight. And the puppy is fine. It’s staying at a vet clinic for a day or two. What about you?”

  “I was just waiting for a ride back to my campsite.” Connor’s laugh held a rueful note. “Usually I’d hike, but after tonight I feel a little lazy.”

  “Exhausted is more like it.” The man reared back in his chair and studied Connor. “The nurses didn’t even clean you up a little? Looks like you could use a few stitches.”

  “I used to rodeo and this is nothing, believe me. My tent and a good night’s sleep is all I need.”

  Bill frowned. “They didn’t tell you?”

  “About what?”

  “How bad it was. The flood rose clear up to the windows in my motor home, and the entire lower campground was swept clean. Anything you had out there is long gone into the St. Croix and probably halfway down the Mississippi by now.”

  Already pale and drawn, Connor sagged into his chair, and Keeley wanted to wrap an arm around him. But she’d seen him flinch during Bill’s grateful hug and now she wondered just how badly he’d been hurt.

  “I think we should have the docs look you over,” she murmured.

  He shook his head. “Not necessary.”

  “Because of the cost?” she asked quietly.

  When he didn’t answer, Bill leaned forward. “Ma’am, go tell the nurses this man hasn’t yet been seen. He saved my grandson’s life, and whatever it costs, I’ll foot the bill. And if he needs a place to stay, I’ll figure that out, too. I owe him more than I can ever repay.”

  * * *

  It was three in the morning before the doctors released Connor after an exam, X-rays, an MRI of his chest and head, and twelve sutures.

  Bill had long since talked to the billing department about Connor’s expenses and offered to pay for a hotel room, as well, then had taken his younger grandson home.

  Keeley studied Connor’s face as the nurses walked him out of the ER entrance to her SUV. Once they were on the road, she glanced at him again before returning her attention to the highway.

  “By tomorrow, you’re going to look like you were in a fight and lost,” she teased. “You’ll be moving around like someone old as Methuselah.”

  He leaned his head against the headrest. “Probably.”

  “I’m not taking you to a hotel, by the way. The discharge instructions say you should be under observation for twenty-four hours because of that concussion, so I’m taking you to Dad’s house and I’ll stay there, too.”

  He gave her a sidelong look then closed his eyes. “That’s not necessary. It’s just more bother for you.”

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Should I be worried? I’m not being fired, am I?”

  She laughed, relieved that he felt good enough to tease her back. “Fire a local hero? Not on your life. You’ll be front-page news in the next issue of the Aspen Herald.”

  He groaned. “Not what I want to hear.”

  “But this ought to put Millie and her gossipy friends in their place. They were reveling in their juicy news and now you’ve gone and saved a little boy and his puppy.” She glanced at him again when he didn’t respond. He looked so pale and drawn in the faint light of the dashboard that she wondered if he should have been kept in the hospital overnight. “Are you all right? Did the doc give you anything for pain?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything you can take? Should we go back? I can’t believe they didn’t give you something.”

  “Just local anesthetic during the sutures. Tylenol would be okay but I don’t need it.”

  “No need to be all macho with me,” she said. “If you want to tough it out, that’s your choice. But I can well imagine what you’ll feel like in the morning with all of those cuts, bruises and a cracked rib. Why didn’t they put some sort of compression bandage on
you? That’s what I got as a kid when I fell off the monkey bars.”

  He shot a dry look at her. “That’s old school. Now they fear suppressing your deep breathing and the risk of pneumonia. Anyway, this isn’t my first time. I think most of my ribs have been cracked at some time or other.”

  “Rodeo?”

  He nodded. “So it’s no big deal.”

  “I disagree. It still must hurt.” She pulled to a stop in front of Dad’s house and hurried around the SUV to open his door. “Ready?”

  He surveyed the darkened house. “This is going to wake your dad up in the middle of the night. Does he even know we’re coming?”

  “No,” she admitted. “It was too late to call.”

  “He’ll think we’re burglars. Is he armed, by any chance?”

  “No guns. And, anyway, he sleeps in a bedroom upstairs and takes his hearing aids out at night, so he’ll never know we’ve arrived, and the dog knows both of us, so he won’t bark... I hope. I’m putting you in a small guest room on the main floor.”

  Connor eased out of the vehicle, one arm gingerly wrapped around his ribs.

  “Right. This is no big deal,” she said dryly. “Do you want me to help you up to the house?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got this.” He slowly followed her up the long cement sidewalk to the porch, then white-knuckled the banister as he eased up the steps.

  Once she got him to the guest room, she flipped on the light by the queen-size bed and turned down the colorful patchwork quilt. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  In the hall bathroom she found a new toothbrush and an unopened travel-size toothpaste in one of the drawers and set them on the counter with a set of fresh towels.

  After a moment’s thought, she brought a cup of water and a bottle of Tylenol to place on the bedside table. “Here you go—in case you find it’s going to be a hard night. The bathroom is two doors down, and I set out fresh towels for you. I’ll be peeking in to check on you every two hours, just as the nurse said.”

  The soft light of the bedside lamp shadowed the lean planes and hollows of his face; his five o’clock shadow and unruly hair made her think of the swashbuckling pirates in some novels she’d recently read.

  Despite the weariness etched in his face, he was still more appealing than anyone she’d ever met, but today she’d seen more than just superficial good looks.

  He was her real-life hero.

  Something shifted in her heart, breaking away some of the protective walls she’d so carefully erected over the years.

  “Sleep well,” she whispered, reaching up to rest a gentle hand against his uninjured cheek. “If you need anything, just call my name. I’ll be down the hall.”

  She started to turn away but he caught her hand and gently pulled her back. Goose bumps raced up her arm at his touch.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered.

  When their gazes locked she felt transfixed—unable to look away from the depth of emotion she saw in his eyes. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Is...is there something else you need?”

  His mouth kicked up a little at one corner, deepening the dimple on that side, and she blushed a little at the possible double meaning of her words.

  “I just want to thank you, Keeley, for everything you’ve done.”

  She glanced around the bedroom then managed a small smile, trying to ignore the hint of farewell in his words. “This guest room was empty. I’m sure Dad won’t mind.”

  “I didn’t just mean the room.” He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand, sending warmth through her veins and straight to her heart. “When I was first released, I had no idea what to expect from people on the outside. You’ve given me back my self-respect, and the feeling that maybe I really do have a chance after all.”

  “I know you do. I have no doubt at all.” She gave him her most confident smile. “But now I’d better let you get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

  Minutes later she set her smartphone alarm for two hours and snuggled under an afghan on the sofa in the family room, but sleep eluded her. Instead, an endless loop of thoughts about Connor kept cycling in her head.

  He could have made a halfhearted rescue attempt and then given up to keep himself safe, but he’d totally risked his life for a stranger and had protected a puppy with his life, as well. What man would do that? Yet afterward, his only concerns had been about their welfare, and he’d firmly discounted his heroics to anyone who praised him.

  With each passing day she’d been drawn to him a little more. And who wouldn’t be?

  Despite his protestations about being ill-suited to working at the store, he was good with the customers and kept busy with fix-it projects when none were around. He hadn’t complained once—not about his rough living conditions at the campground, not about the more difficult shoppers who came into the store.

  But more than that, he’d been truly concerned about Bobby and he’d been patient and kind to her difficult father. Even crotchety old Bart liked him, and that dog didn’t like anyone but her dad.

  Still, as her lingering doubts about Connor faded away, one truth remained.

  No matter how kind or honest or charming he was...no matter how much her feelings might grow, there was no point in hoping for anything more.

  He’d drifted into her life unexpectedly and within weeks he’d be gone—off to find his son and reestablish his life. And to do that, he’d need to return to the world he knew best—ranching or the rodeo circuit, somewhere out West.

  A Wisconsin tourist town like Aspen Creek would have nothing to offer a man like him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Though he hadn’t wanted to admit it to the nurses or anyone else, Connor had known this morning was going to be a bear. His muscles ached and his head still throbbed, and he hadn’t even been sure where he was during the first foggy moments of awakening after a fitful night of sleep.

  Instead of a sleeping bag and thin foam mat on hard ground, this was a comfortable bed, with warm blankets. The rosy blush of dawn slipping through the edges of the curtains softly lit the antique furnishings and stained-glass lamps on the dresser and bedside table.

  He closed his eyes, savoring the comforts of a real home for the first time in years. Then he slowly sat up, despite the muscles screaming in protest, and reached for the damp jeans, socks and shirt he’d draped over a chair.

  Sometime during the early morning hours Keeley must have washed and dried them, for now they were clean and neatly folded on the dresser. Keeley and he had arrived here after three in morning, so had she got any sleep at all? Surprised and grateful, he pulled on his clothes, shoved his damp wallet in his pocket and stepped into the hallway.

  The house was quiet, with no breakfast aromas emanating from the kitchen, so everyone else was probably asleep.

  The possibility of making a much-needed cup of coffee drew him down the hall and through an archway into a formal living room he hadn’t seen when he’d been here for supper. It was filled with stiff, uncomfortable-looking, gilt-and-white furnishings, upholstered in the color of fresh cream.

  He paused and stared for a moment, imagining what he and his brothers would have done to a room like this during their mud-and-sticky-fingers childhood days. Was this how Keeley had been raised—in a grand place where she couldn’t sit on the furniture or play with childhood abandon? How had she turned out to be so easygoing? So normal?

  Through the next archway he could see a more familiar area—the family room, where Keeley’s dad watched television. The massive, dark-paneled room was lined with bookshelves and filled with heavy leather furniture. He continued on toward the kitchen, less comfortable about his mission with each step—feeling more like a prowler than a guest.

  If he suddenly met up with Paul North, he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t give t
he poor man a heart attack.

  Something rustled at the far end of the family room and he stilled.

  “I thought you would sleep later,” Keeley murmured. Setting aside an afghan, she rose from a pillowy, burgundy-leather sofa. “You sure tossed and turned a lot last night. Every time I checked on you, you were restless.”

  He laughed. “I guess I must sleep better outside.”

  “How are you this morning?”

  “Good—just in search of some coffee. Does your dad keep any on hand?”

  She led the way into a dazzling white kitchen with stainless-steel appliances, flipped on the lights and headed for the Keurig at the end of the granite counter. “Name your flavor and we probably have it.”

  “Anything with caffeine.” While the machine gurgled, he glanced around the kitchen. Just as it had been before, it was beautiful but stark, and lacking any sort of homey details such as the ones he remembered from every other home he’d ever seen. Not so much as a pot holder or a kitchen towel was in view.

  “This place is spotless,” he murmured. “I think you could do surgery on the counters.”

  “Almost. I try to cook for the two of us when I can, and make enough for leftovers he can reheat. Or he nukes those healthy frozen dinners. But no matter what, Dad wants this place tidy before he goes to bed.” She handed Connor a steaming mug. “This is French vanilla. If you don’t like it, I can make something else.”

  He took a sip of the rich, dark brew. “Perfect.”

  “I agree with you, though. This kitchen is awfully Spartan, but that’s what Dad likes, so that’s what he has.” She went to the refrigerator and opened the door wide. “What do you want for breakfast? I can make any kind of eggs you want, with bacon or sausage. And there’s whole wheat or sourdough for toast.”

  “Don’t go to any work for me. I figure I’d better get out and buy a tent, some clothes and supplies. I can grab some breakfast on the way.”

  “About those supplies... I’m guessing that it’s going to be a pretty hefty bill, if you’re replacing everything you lost. Right?”