Rescue Me (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  Lord knows he’d done his share of stupid things over the last year. And although getting involved with his best friend’s widow topped the list, he didn’t regret one minute of it. Lana made him feel things he’d never felt, made him want things he’d never wanted before.

  Sure, there’d been a time when he’d wanted Kendall, too, but that’d been different. Back then he hadn’t been able to see past the physicality of their relationship—which explained why they would’ve never worked. He could see that, now.

  But with Lana it was different. Don’t get him wrong—the physical part of their relationship was wild, hot.

  Recklessly addicting.

  He loved to watch her midnight eyes glaze over, feel her soft body writhing beneath his as she surrendered to sweet ecstasy, hear her choppy breaths and pleasure-filled whimpers as he drove her closer to the pinnacle of release.

  But it was more than that.

  Because for the first time in all his thirty years, Randall wanted the whole package. A beautiful wife, a white picket fence, and two-point-five kids…

  Which was crazy-stupid considering who he was. Who she was. But damn if he didn’t want it anyway. He allowed his mind to wander for a stretch, fantasizing about what his life might look like if the reverie were real. He visualized coming home from a long shift at the firehouse to the smell of a delicious home-cooked meal, kissing Lana’s lips before roughhousing with Connor in the backyard. He pictured tucking the little guy into bed around nine o’clock—so he could spend the remainder of his evening taking his new wife to bed.

  Completely absorbed by the blissful images flashing in his mind, Randall had unknowingly increased his speed. And when a particularly powerful gust of wind T-boned the driver’s side of his pick-up, he suddenly snapped to attention. Startled from his musing trance, he overcorrected, yanking the wheel hard-left. The moment his back end swung to the right he knew he’d fucked up.

  Randall quickly jerked the wheel to the right in an attempt to regain control, but it was no use; with so much water coating the slickened asphalt his tires had nothing to cling on to. The truck bed veered further to the right until the length of the two-ton pick-up became perpendicular to the road. Unable to sustain forward motion in its current position, the truck lurched and rolled.

  The sound of crushing metal filled his ears as he tumbled down the deserted two-lane highway. No longer able to control the vehicle, he held on for dear life, gripping the wheel with every ounce of strength he could conjure while his body thrashed about inside the cab. The violent turbulence seemed to last an eternity, but likely only spanned five seconds. And when the ruthless churning eased and the first wave of pain rippled through his limp body, a specter of light crept into his vision, taking the shape of a man he hadn’t laid eyes on since Memorial Day of last year.

  Jimmy’s brown eyes bored into his.

  And then…

  Darkness.

  The windows rattled as a steady stream of harsh, tropical air clashed against the glass pane, adding to the orchestra of sounds already entertaining Lana as she lay on the couch in her dim living room alone. The power had gone out roughly forty-five minutes ago when the eye of the storm had washed ashore, forcing her to fetch the hurricane survival kit she kept in the pantry in utter darkness. And after stubbing her little toe on a kitchen chair, she’d lit the oil lamp, snatched a small metal flashlight, and returned to the couch.

  Lana had seen a lot of tropical systems in her twenty-seven years having lived on the Gulf Coast her whole life. Didn’t matter how many, though; hunkering down in the dark while Mother Nature disfigured the earth was still terrifying. Night storms were always the worst. And this time was no different.

  She was completely alone, now. Her mother had phoned earlier informing Lana that she was keeping Connor for the night. They both agreed it was probably in his best interest, although that didn’t mean she had to like it. Lying on the couch, she watched light and shadows dance across the ceiling, fluttering in time with the flickering flame. Her eyes burned from the friction of her tears, her lids gritty like coarse sandpaper. Her life was beginning to look an awful lot like a bad Jerry Springer episode: the ones where the audience practically chanted for the two-timin’ hussy’s blood.

  Her tender heart ached, a myriad of emotions all fighting for dominance.

  Betrayal, sorrow, guilt and despair.

  Embarrassment and humiliation.

  Worry.

  Love.

  She was in love with Randall Burns. She hadn’t planned it—God knows she’d spent many nights denying her attraction to him in the beginning, but the magnetism and allure had been too powerful.

  None of that mattered much now, though. Thanks to Jenny’s ill-timed outburst, the entire town had condemned Lana before her feet had left the stage. Well, maybe not the entire town—Olivia had left a very kind message on her machine earlier. Seems Lana still had one ally…

  Inhaling a shaky breath, Lana rose from the couch and reached for the small frame that housed a picture of Jimmy and Randall, taken two summers ago at the annual Oyster Festival. Behind the thin sheet of glass lay the two men that’d stolen her heart. They were as different as night and day—probably why they’d made such good friends.

  And she loved them both.

  She’d always cherish the years she’d spent with Jimmy. Always. He’d given her eleven amazing years and a son she adored beyond words. And she’d love him till her last breath for that.

  But it was time to move on, time to stop living in the past and forge a future for herself and her son. More than anything she wanted it to be with Randall. He was trying to do the honorable thing, she knew, but Lana didn’t need his noble gestures—she just needed his love.

  Returning the small metal frame to the mantel, she shuffled to the window, shoving the drapes aside to watch the storm’s fury. She expected to see high winds and pounding rain—maybe even a bit of debris—but what she hadn’t counted on was Chief Handler and Grant Womack.

  Snatching her hand from the curtain, Lana quickly moved to the door, tugging it open as the two men bounded up the porch steps. Her gaze darted between the two forms before her, one tall and broad, one short and round.

  Both wearing wet clothes and stone-like expressions.

  “Sorry to drop in like this”, Chief Handler began. “But we couldn’t reach you by phone.”

  “I…I turned it off earlier.”

  Chief nodded firmly once, then shifted his weight, removing his hat. Lana stared in disbelief, feeling as though she was reliving that fateful night one year ago.

  “It’s Randall, Lana… There’s… there’s been an accident.”

  Chapter 31

  A fist hurdled toward Randall at lightning speed, striking his face with an almost supernatural-like power. A shockwave of pain exploded behind his right eye as his head snapped back from the brutal blow. Instinctively, he palmed the tender skin, feeling it swell beneath his bloody fingertips. His body felt heavy, weak. Pressing the heel of his hand against his throbbing eye he waited for his vision to clear.

  Only he wasn’t quite prepared to find his dead best friend kneeling in front of him.

  “Long time no see, Brother”, Jimmy seethed. “What’s it been, one year?”

  Randall stared skeptically for a stretch. “Yeah”, he finally managed.

  “Well, I would ask what you’ve been up to these days, but then, I already know…” Standing, Jimmy snatched him up by his shirt and slammed him against the side of his mangled truck. “I just want to know why… Of all the women, why did it have to be her?”

  Randall stared into the eyes of a man he’d grown up with, two brown eyes raw with misery and strain. “You think I haven’t asked myself that same question every night?” Relaxing the grip on Randall’s shirt, Jimmy turned away, running his hands through his dark blond hair. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway—it’s over.”

  Jimmy turned, resting his hands low on his hips, his expression a mixtur
e of rage, disbelief, and… appreciation?

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, I’m talking to you, right? If I’m seeing dead people, that must mean I’m…”

  “Dead?” Jimmy finished, smiling.

  Lana paced the hall outside Randall’s hospital room, waiting for the nurse to give her the green light to rush in. Details were still a bit fuzzy, but it seemed as though he’d skipped town after leaving her earlier this afternoon. His mangled Ford had been found by a county sheriff deputy on a routine patrol just before seven ‘o clock. It’d taken some time for the Franklin County Fire Department to respond—even longer to pry Randall’s battered and unconscious body from the wreckage.

  According to Chief Handler Randall had been wedged in the cab of his truck pretty good, and had likely lingered in that state for several hours before the deputy stumbled upon the crushed pick-up. She cringed every time she thought about him lying helplessly and injured on the side of the road, while blasting wind and unrelenting rain besieged his limp, crippled body.

  Dr. Conrad hadn’t given them much to go on; only that Randall had been slipping in and out of consciousness upon his arrival.

  “Here”, Olivia offered, shoving a small Styrofoam cup at her. “It’s gonna be a long night, sugar. Might as well start loadin’ up on the caffeine.” Lana took the cup and swallowed a sip. “Any news yet?”

  Shaking her head, she lowered the cup of sludge the cafeteria tried to pass off as coffee. “The nurse is in with him now. She told me I can pop in to see him for a few minutes after she has him settled.”

  “He awake now?”

  “No, still fading in and out, last I heard.”

  Olivia nodded, leaning her shoulder against the wall. “What about you? How’re you holdin’ up?”

  “I’m… I’m”—Lana quickly wiped a fleeing tear with her free hand and flashed a weak smile—“managing. Or, at least, trying to… Thank you for being here—it means a lot to—”

  “Okay”, Kendall interrupted as she and Ty stepped from the elevator. “I brought my entire collection of nail polish with me—not nearly as extensive as yours, I might add—but I’m sure we can still find a shade you’ll like.”

  “Nail polish?” Lana asked, puzzled.

  “That’s right”, Olivia added, nudging a damp lock of brown hair from Lana’s face. “Instead of wearin’ a hole in the floor in front of this room, you’re gonna sit down while we paint your nails.”

  “Paint my nails?” Her response sounded more like a statement than a question, like she was testing the words in her mouth.

  “So you can pick off the polish, of course”, Kendall explained.

  This time Lana wasn’t able to stifle the sob that’d worked its way up the back of her throat. She slapped her free hand over her mouth, but the sound escaped anyway. In the blink of an eye, her two friends rushed forward, wrapping their arms around her as though they were lending her their strength.

  Maybe her luck was finally turning around.

  Just Maybe…

  “Relax”, Jimmy uttered. “You’re not dead—just unconscious.”

  The tense muscles in Randall’s shoulders eased a bit.

  He wasn’t dead…

  There’d been a time not so long ago he’d have been disappointed at the news. The guilt over his best friend’s death had ruled his worthless life in such a way that he’d come to terms with his own demise. But now… now he had something—someone—to live for. “Where is she?”

  Jimmy sighed, then jerked his head toward the door. “She’s in the waiting room.”

  “In the waiting room?” he asked, confused.

  “Look around, Brother. You’re at the hospital.”

  His eyes scanned the room. Peach pastel wallpaper, beeping machines, and the unmistakable smell of antiseptic. Yep, he was definitely at Mainland Hospital. “I don’t understand… How’d I get here?”

  “By ambulance, of course.” Jimmy sat down next to Randall, leaning his elbows against his lap as he leaned forward. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time. So I’m gonna do the talkin’ and you’re gonna listen.” He waited for Randall to nod before he continued. “I want to hate you, want to make you feel the pain I felt when I saw you makin’ moves on Lana… But I can’t.

  “I love that woman more than you’ll ever know. And I had to watch her mourn me—crumble, day after day after day—for months, last year. If I hadn’t already been dead, it would’ve killed me again—”

  “Jimmy, I—”

  Jimmy held his palm in front of him, stopping Randall mid-sentence. “Let me finish. I’m not gonna lie, Randall; seeing you and Lana together… Well, no man should have to witness something like that. But”, he sighed, “you make her happy. You walk into the room and her entire aura just lights up… That’s… that’s why I had to do it.”

  Randall’s brows drew together in confusion again. “Had to do what?”

  “I had to save you.”

  “Mrs. Phillips”, the elderly nurse called out as she stepped into the waiting room.

  Lana quickly jumped to her feet. “Yes?”

  “You can see him, now, but only for a few minutes.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Lana glanced at Olivia and Kendall before following the nurse into the abandoned hallway. It was almost eleven, now. The bulk of the tropical storm had already passed, leaving intermittent squalls of heavy rain in its wake.

  Slowly, guys from the department had trickled in to show their support for one of their own. The expressions on their faces revealed they were none too happy about the idea of Lana and Randall. But it meant a lot to her that they were still here. The Butler Island Fire Department were a dysfunctional bunch, yes, but they still stuck together. She loved that about these guys. In time, she hoped they would come to understand the choices she and Randall had made.

  “Go on in, honey. I’ll swing back by to getcha in about five minutes.”

  “Thanks”, she uttered feebly. With a fortifying breath, she turned the knob and pressed the heavy door open.

  Nothing could’ve prepared Lana for that first glimpse, though. Her body froze mid-step. Her breath hitched.

  His left leg was splinted, wrapped with myriad layers of gauze and Ace Bandages. On his arms were legions of cuts and scrapes, likely from shattered glass. Her eyes slowly traveled up the length of his body until she came upon the nasty, swollen bruise that’d formed around his right eye.

  Shuffling forward, she covered her mouth to muffle her sobs, collapsing into the chair at his bedside. Her eyes skittered to the monitors. She didn’t know what half the information meant, but the jagged line steadily moving across one of them, coupled with a repetitive beep, assured her he was very much alive. Reaching for his hand she brought it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to one of the small cuts along the back of it.

  Could have lost him…

  The suddenness of that possibility rushed over her as she stared at his motionless body, the expanding ache pressing in on her lungs.

  She could have lost him.

  Lana interlocked their fingers, giving his hand a light squeeze. She needed to feel his warmth, needed the constant reminder that he was alive. Through a steady stream of tears she studied the even movement of his chest as he breathed.

  Life was precious. Life was often unpredictable. Losing Jimmy had taught her that. The dirty looks and malicious whispers weren’t going to deter her. She wanted a life—a future—with Randall.

  But first, she had to say goodbye to a piece of her past.

  “All right, time’s up, Mrs. Phillips.”

  Lana head snapped toward the nurse, then back to Randall. “I love you”, she uttered softly. Brushing her lips over the back of his hand one last time, she gently placed it back on the bed, then stood, following the nurse into the abandoned hallway.

  “When can I see him again?” She inquired as the nurse led her to the waiting area.

  “Probably not until after his surgery tomorrow—”
>
  “Surgery?”

  “Just his ankle, honey. A few screws and he’ll be as good as new.”

  Lana halted. “What about the rest of his injuries?”

  The kind, elderly nurse stopped just outside the door that led to the waiting room. Hugging a stack of charts against her chest, she turned, eyeing Lana for a stretch before answering. “You know, I’m not really supposed to be discussing any of this with you. But… He’s gonna be just fine. Aside from the ankle, he has a few broken ribs, lacerations from the shattered glass, and one heck of a nasty bruise on his hand-some face. Rollover crashes don’t always have happy endings, you know. So I’d say he was pretty darn lucky. Must’ve had an angel watching over him.”

  Lana smiled as a lone tear slid down her cheek. “Yeah, I think he did.”

  Chapter 32

  Vigorous whispers faded to uncomfortable silence as Lana reentered the small, packed waiting room. More than a dozen pairs of eyes settled on her, the weight of their gazes stimulating her fight or flight mechanism.

  Stay. Hold your ground.

  Fight.

  “How is he?” Grant probed. “He awake yet?”

  “No, but the nurse says he’s gonna be fine.” Lana explained the depth of his injuries, including the surgery required to realign the displaced bones in his ankle. The room fell quiet again, tense air swirling, suffocating.

  Stay. Hold your ground.

  Fight.

  It was time to address the elephant in the room, time for everyone to know where her head and heart were at. Sucking air into her starved lungs, Lana forced the words over her dry throat.

  “I love him—Randall. I know you all probably think it’s crazy, sudden, wrong… But I do.”

  Tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear with quivering hands, she continued. “I’ve learned a lot about life over the last year. I’ve learned that careful plans and good intentions can sometimes spell disaster. I’ve learned that life is meant to be valued and treasured. And I’ve learned that every bad outcome garners a silver lining… Randall is my silver lining”, she reiterated, placing her palm over her heart.