by Jeannie Watt
“Did she look friendly?”
Jess gave him a look of male sympathy. “She looked...stressed. Probably worried about flooding.”
Flooding, his ass. She’d been stressed about the possibility of having to deal with him.
When he got home, he found several half-filled sandbags near the garage. The pile of sand in Joe’s driveway was gone and Dylan had to admit he was impressed that they’d managed to fill that many bags.
“Joe has more sand coming tomorrow,” Mike said over coffee the next morning, which had arrived way too early. Dylan was due back on shift in an hour, and he planned to get as much caffeine into him as possible before he got into his truck.
“The creek is coming up higher than I thought it would,” Dylan admitted.
“The last time it was this high I was in high school and this development was a cow pasture...an underwater cow pasture.”
“You were right,” Dylan said. He let out a long breath. “Can’t wait to see what kind of craziness the floods bring out in our fellow man today.”
But it turned out to be a fairly quiet day. He spent most of the day setting up hazard signs, assisting motorists that had to make detours and generally cruising the county. He was back at the station when his cell phone rang. Mike’s number showed on the screen and he expected to be reminded to pick something up from the store when an unfamiliar voice said, “Dylan? Is that you?”
“Who’s this?”
“J-Joe. Joe B-Bradford,” the guy stuttered. “It’s Mike. We have an ambulance coming.”
“Ambulance?”
“Mike collapsed. Marion called the ambulance—wait. It just turned the corner.”
“Is he conscious?” Dylan demanded as he pushed out the doors into the parking lot, his heart knocking against his ribs. “Joe! Answer me.”
“I don’t... I’m not sure. We were filling bags and he just keeled over. His eyes are closed...” Joe’s voice became muffled as he called out, “Marion, wave so they see you.”
Dylan jerked the truck door open. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Call me back when they transport.”
Joe called Dylan back within a matter of minutes to tell him they were transporting. Dylan swung the SUV in a U and headed across town, arriving at the hospital just as his grandfather was being wheeled in through the emergency room doors. He’d seen his share of death and disaster, but Mike—he couldn’t lose Mike. Not after he’d just moved home to spend more time with him.
A teary-eyed Marion Bradford came in through the double doors, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as if she was cold.
“Are you all right?” Dylan asked, taking care to keep his tone patient even though he felt anything but patient.
“Yes. Fine. Mike was helping Joe fill sandbags and he collapsed.”
“I know.” Dylan shot a look toward the emergency room doors, then back at Marion. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Where’s Joe?”
“He went to talk to some Admissions people.”
“I got this,” he said. “You guys can go home. I really appreciate you helping him like this. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Please do that,” Marion said as Joe came down the hall from Admissions. She stepped close to her husband who put an arm around her.
“Sorry this happened,” Joe said. The man was pale. Shaken. “He insisted on helping.”
“I know how he is,” Dylan said. And if he survived this, he knew how he’d be in the future. A hell of a lot more careful.
If he survived this.
Dylan wasn’t yet ready to face a world without his grandfather. He pushed through the door to the emergency area of the hospital and approached the desk, a grim look on his face.
* * *
THE PAST TWO weeks had not been easy for Jolie. Her mother had called twice and Jolie had been able to convince her that she was feeling better. That she was coming to terms with her issues, when really she had a feeling she was simply shoving them down deep again. If she wasn’t, then she should have been able to call Dylan. Tell him she wanted to talk, to maybe see him again. She did want that, badly, but she wasn’t making that call, which told her she was still too damned afraid to deal with losing him.
On the day of the Superior Rodeo, which she was traveling to alone, Jolie rose to a driving rain storm. She’d hooked up the trailer the night before and Jenabelle had had the good sense to hang out in the barn so she was relatively dry, but Jolie had a bad feeling about the rivulets of water running down the driveway.
She checked the weather and Gallatin was out of the storm path, which was swinging just south. She would not run Jenabelle in a slick arena and risk pulled tendons, but once she got the weather all-clear, she loaded her horse, put her lunch and her purse in the truck and headed down the road, windshield wipers doing their best to clear the sheets of water off the windshield.
Within an hour she’d driven out of the storm, but she could see it behind her, low, blue-gray clouds obliterating the horizon.
Jolie headed back early shortly after her run, loading up Jenabelle and hitting the road without waiting to hear how she placed. The Evans River was rising and there was talk of closing the road. The last thing she wanted was to be stranded, especially when she had hungry mouths waiting at home to be fed.
As she neared the Eagle Valley she simply hoped she’d make it home. Water lapped over the highway, closing one lane, but thankfully the state crews hadn’t yet gotten there to shut the road. Half an hour later she rolled into her driveway and got out into a light rain. The storm was finally moving on and she hoped, truly hoped, that they’d seen the last of the rain for a while.
She unloaded Jenabelle and led her into the barn. Most of her horses were oblivious to the weather, but Jenabelle had always sought shelter during rain, so she was Jolie’s barn princess. And even though it wasn’t raining hard at the moment, she had a feeling there could be another deluge at any time.
After feeding and graining the mare and running fresh water for her, Jolie drew her hood up over her head and headed across the graveled drive.
Gus poked his head out of the dog house, then bounded across the sloppy yard to meet her. Jolie rubbed his damp head as she walked up the stairs, feeling ridiculously tired. The phone started ringing in the house and she hurried her steps. Only her mother called the landline and she didn’t want Anne to worry. She’d made a mistake calling and tripping the mother-concern sensor, but at least she’d gotten some information to deal with.
She left the door open as she came inside, leaving wet tracks as she crossed the room. She picked up the phone, managed a breathy hello while the connection was still there, then nearly dropped the receiver when Dylan said her name.
“It’s Mike,” he said. “He’s in the hospital having emergency surgery.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JOLIE CLUTCHED THE phone as the nasty feeling of déjà vu swept over her. “Why?”
“Heart attack. He’d been helping the neighbors sandbag and had chest pains.”
“I’ll be right there.” Jolie was already pulling keys out of her pocket.
“I don’t think you can get there. The Evans River is across the road.”
Then why are you calling me?
“I’ll get there.”
“Jolie... I called because you’re a big part of Mike’s life. Not so that you can risk your life getting to the hospital.”
“I’ll take the trestle road.” And then she hung up. Moments later she’d unhitched her trailer and was in her truck.
She traveled across Dani and Gabe’s place and followed the old county road almost fifteen miles to the trestle bridge that crossed high above the river. Even so, the water was roiling down below and Jolie half wondered if the ranch was going to be under water by the time she got back.
At the moment she didn’t care. She needed to get to Dylan and Mike. Before anything horrible happened.
I’m losing someone else...
Jolie shoved the thought out of her head and focused on driving. She had to get there. She had to at least have the chance to say goodbye, something she hadn’t been able to do with her father.
As she left the county road and turned onto the almost-deserted highway leading into Eagle Valley she forced herself to relax her jaw before she cracked a couple of teeth. Finally she swung into the hospital parking lot and dashed across the ankle-deep puddles to the entrance.
Dylan was there, just inside the doors, his expression grim. He made no move to touch her and Jolie returned the favor even though she wanted to wrap her arms around him, assure him that she was there for him for as long as he needed her. “I was afraid you were going to get yourself into trouble.”
“Me? Never.” But the words sounded brittle and stressed.
“Mike’s in the ICU.”
Jolie knew the way to the waiting room, which hadn’t changed much since she’d been there almost twenty years ago. Jolie stood awkwardly for a moment then sat on the edge of a paisley-cushioned sofa while Dylan sat opposite. His handsome face was pale beneath the growth of dark stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.
At that moment she would have given almost anything to prevent him from going through this again, because she knew all too well what this felt like. Her dad may have died two decades ago, but being here in this room, smelling those long-forgotten smells... She wrapped her arms around herself.
Finally, when she couldn’t take the silence anymore, she said, “I’ve been here before.”
“I know,” Dylan said quietly.
“It kind of ended my world and I hope that doesn’t happen to you.”
“Me, too. At least not like this.”
She understood his meaning. Everyone died. Loved ones had to deal, as Dylan had dealt with the lingering death of his father. But people shouldn’t be ripped away from you when you least expected it.
And the next thing she knew she was moving, crossing the room and holding Dylan tight. She wasn’t certain if she was comforting him or herself or both. She needed a connection. She needed to be connected to someone strong and steady and...there. Slowly, Dylan’s arms closed around her and his hands moved over her back, up and down in a comforting motion as he held her against him. She pressed her check against his chest, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for Mike.
She didn’t how long they stood like that, but she couldn’t pull herself away. Finally she took a breath that made her body shake and he loosened his hold, pulling back so that he could look down into her face.
“No matter what happens,” he said, “we have each other.”
She opened her mouth but realized she had no idea what she was about to say so she closed it and mutely nodded. They did have each other. Here. Now. And she wasn’t going to turn away from that comfort.
She cleared her throat and said, “I’ve really grown fond of Mike.”
Dylan smiled a little, took her hand and led her to a chair. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”
Great. That didn’t make her want to cry or anything. Feeling her throat close, Jolie looked away as Dylan took the seat next to her. He laced his fingers through hers and set it on his hard thigh. And they sat. And sat.
Dylan’s hold on her hand loosened but he didn’t let go. Not even when he leaned his head back against the wall and fell sound asleep. He’d just come off a series of emergency shifts. She knew that from the call he’d made to Dispatch to fill them in on where he was and why. Two deputies stopped by to see him briefly, and shortly after they left, he fell asleep again.
Jolie stared at the wall, telling herself that she could do this. She could handle losing Mike.
No you can’t.
She swallowed as tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away even as they ran down her neck and soaked into the edge of her shirt.
She closed her eyes but the silent tears continued.
“Jolie.” Dylan’s voice startled her.
“Sorry,” she said, sitting straighter and wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hand. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“Why are you sorry?” He caught her hand in his, then reached to the side table and handed her tissues.
“All right, I’m not sorry,” she admitted, “but... I think I’m losing it. Finally.”
“Finally?”
She pulled in a shaky breath and focused on the opposite wall. “I talked to my mom about my dad’s death.”
It took Dylan a long moment to say, “Yeah?” Almost as if he was afraid that if he spoke, she’d clam up.
She felt like clamming up, but she’d started and now she’d finish. He deserved to know why she was the way she was.
She nodded because her throat felt thick. She cleared it and said, “I didn’t cry, I guess.” She gave a small careless shrug. “Mom was afraid I hadn’t grieved.”
“Have you ever cried about it?”
She didn’t look at him as she said, “People grieve in different ways.”
“Agreed.”
She pressed her lips together harder and stared down at the floor, feeling a little sick. “I think I was crying about it now. About him and Mike and...you.”
“Me?”
“Don’t ask me to analyze, but, yes. You.”
“Come here.” He took her hand and pulled her onto his lap, then he tucked her head so that it lay against his shoulder. He held her there.
Jolie didn’t protest, because she realized that maybe he needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held. She was so damned tired of being abandoned.
* * *
DYLAN’S LEGS WERE going numb, but he didn’t care. He shifted Jolie’s weight slightly then pulled her back against him. He was glad she was there. People weren’t meant to go through hard times alone and that was exactly what Jolie had done since the death of her father. And he was beginning to believe that she understood that now.
Finally.
They’d both lost a parent. But the difference between them, something he’d never appreciated, was that he had grieved. Hell, he’d grieved before he’d lost his father and after. It had sucked, but once it had been over, he’d moved forward.
“Sorry for the delay.” The doctor all but burst into the room, startling Jolie, who jumped. Dylan stood, looking ready to face the worst.
“Double bypass. He’s resting comfortably, but he has a long road ahead of him.”
Dylan felt the most amazing rush of gratitude as he stood staring at the guy who’d just saved his grandfather’s life.
“He’ll be all right?” Jolie asked cautiously.
“I think so, yes.” He gestured at the sofa and Dylan and Jolie slowly sat as he took a seat on the chair opposite and discussed the surgery, emphasizing that it had been a close call, but that he fully expected Mike to pull through.
“You should go home,” he said after answering all of Dylan’s questions. “Get some sleep.” When Dylan opened his mouth to speak, the doctor held up a hand. “If you want to stay, fine, but it won’t help anyone. Be back here at nine and there’s a good chance you’ll be able to see him.” The doctor nodded at Jolie. “Take him home. We’ll call if there’s any change at all. Your grandfather doesn’t need you sleeping in a chair to prove that you love him.”
“All right.” Dylan took Jolie’s hand and they walked to the nurses’ station where he asked to be called if there was any change in his grandfather’s condition.
It wasn’t until the nurse said, “You bet, Dylan,” that he realized he knew her. Three shifts and an emergency bypass had done a job on him. He patted the counter, feeling better about g
oing home for a few hours.
“He made it,” Jolie said in a quiet voice as they walked to where their vehicles were parked side by side.
“Thankfully.”
Jolie stopped at her truck. He wanted nothing more than to ask her to come home with him, but one look at her face told him not to push matters, no matter how much he wanted to simply hold her.
“I expected the worst.”
“The worst doesn’t always happen,” he said.
“Apparently.” She looked away for a moment then when she met his eyes he once again saw the shimmer of tears. “I have to go home and feed. Check the water level.”
“That’s all right. I’ll pass out as soon as I get home—unless my house is underwater.” He waited until Jolie got into her truck and started the engine to start his own. He wanted her with him, but it wasn’t time yet. She was still dealing, still figuring out how to grieve and how to take a chance.
He loved her, so he was going to give her the room she needed to figure it out.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MIKE HADN’T DIED.
Despite her certainty that he would, despite reliving the nightmare scenario she’d suffered through with her dad...Mike hadn’t died.
Jolie was still working over the fact that the worst hadn’t happened when she drove across the Staley property on her way back to the ranch. People you love could be snatched away in an instant, so therefore you had to be careful who you loved. How much you loved. That had been her mindset since she was ten years old.
Except the bad thing had only happened once to her. She loved her family, close friends, and hadn’t lost them. In a way, she’d been blessed to have so many people to love.
And if Mike had died...would it have been easier to handle his passing had she never grown close to him?
Yes.
Would her life have been as rich?
No.