Rescue Me (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  Lana scanned the room, allowing her gaze to land on every face as she spoke. “Some of you are angry—I get that. Jimmy meant something to everyone in this room. We can sit here all night and play the what-would-you-do game, but until you’ve walked a day in my shoes, you don’t get to judge me or the choices I’ve made.

  “I watched Jimmy’s casket while it was lowered into the ground”, she uttered softly, wiping the river of tears now cascading down her sodden cheeks. “I watched every hope—every dream—slowly fade away… For me, that was rock bottom. That was the moment when everything inside me broke into a million little pieces.

  “I’ll never be whole again. There will always be a missing piece. Always. But, Randall… Well, he’s the glue that put me back together… He rescued me…”

  Randall ran his hand through his dark hair. “You saved me?”

  “For the second time, yes—but who’s counting?” Jimmy remarked sarcastically. Leaning back in his chair he smirked, his hands coming to rest behind his head.

  Randall felt a smile spread across his lips too. Jimmy had always been a comedian of sorts. It was good to know his sense of humor was still intact. Good to know that after everything that’d happened over the last year, he wasn’t jaded. Much.

  After all, the man had thoroughly enjoyed ramming his fist into Randall’s eye.

  Jimmy’s easy expression suddenly turned serious, his brows drawing together. “You love her.”

  Not a question—a statement. Because Jimmy’s brilliant gaze could see through the bumps and bruises and broken bones, penetrating the layer of fibrous tissue surrounding Randall’s scarred heart.

  “Yes.”

  Jimmy sighed. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows against his lap. “Then tell her”, he advised. “She needs to hear it. She deserves to hear it… God knows she didn’t hear it from me as often as she should have.”

  “You make it sound so… simple.”

  “It is”, Jimmy conceded, rising to his feet. “Living beings tend to overcomplicate things. Doesn’t have to be that way, though. The secret to life really is simple. It all comes down to love: the love you give and the love others give you.” His silhouette flickered a few times, warning his time was almost up. “Promise me something?”

  Randall’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Anything.”

  “Take care of Lana and Connor. Be the husband and the father I wasn’t.”

  The backs of Randall’s eyes burned as moisture spilled over his lashes. “I… I will, man. I promise.”

  “Oh, and uh, you might wanna ask the nurse for an icepack.” Gesturing toward Randall’s eye, Jimmy’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “Guess I can still pack one hell of a punch.”

  The apparition faded then, just as quickly as it’d suddenly appeared. Muffled whispers echoed in Randall’s head, swirling into a crescendo of nearly perceptible chatter. His chest hurt, every breath bitter and strained. The voices became louder—one male, one female. Sharp pain traveled up his left leg, so intense his lids fluttered open.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Burns.”

  The beaming sun climbed the cloudless blue sky, its earnest rays warming the flesh on Lana’s bare arms. The atmosphere looked completely different today: calm, bright, tranquil. Small twigs and scattered leaves appeared to be the only evidence left behind by yesterday’s tropical storm. Chirping birds harmonized in the distance, filling the dead silence with whispers of life.

  The air was thick and muggy and still as she navigated through the small cemetery, her hazy memory guiding her apprehensive gait. The soles of her sandals pressed into the spongy earth as she stepped off the winding brick path, her eyes scanning the row of headstones until her gaze landed on the third slab of granite from the end.

  Clutching the small bouquet of blue perennials she’d clipped from the backyard, Lana willed her jittery legs to persevere, each step exponentially harder than the one before. Within moments she was close enough to read the engraved stone.

  James Phillips, Jr.

  September 1, 1982 – May 28, 2012

  Loving husband, father, and hero

  Falling to her knees six-feet above her husband’s remains, she gently set the flowers on the ground as the first wave of agony and sadness rippled through her. Somehow seeing Jimmy’s life reduced to three simple lines carved into sleek stone made the tears fall faster. Resting her head against the smooth granite, she ran her fingertips over the etched surface.

  One year. Three-hundred-sixty-five sunrises and sunsets.

  Jimmy had been gone one year…

  “God, I miss you”, she whispered, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. Lana drew in a shaky breath, forcing the air through her pursed lips as she exhaled.

  “Sorry it’s taken me so long to visit. I wanted to, but…I was afraid…. I guess I thought if I stayed away, I wouldn’t have to accept that you’re really gone. Crazy, huh…?

  “Connor’s getting big—grew nearly three inches in the span of a few months. He’s playing football this fall. I’m scared to death, but… I know you’ll keep him safe.” Her palm muffled a fleeing sob.

  Losing Jimmy hurt. But the thought of Connor growing up, never fully grasping the kind, loving man that created him, hurt far worse.

  Lana tilted her face skyward for a few beats, letting the sun shower her with warmth. “I have a confession to make”, she began again, returning her gaze to the etched granite. “I…I’ve been seeing someone. He’s a good man, Jimmy; I know this because you admired him, too. In fact, you cared about him so much you didn’t think twice before shoving him from the path of that falling limb.

  “I know the fact that it’s Randall is probably maddening. Sort of took me by surprise, too, if I’m being honest. But…” Lana clenched her eyes shut. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but what she was about to say somehow seemed easier that way. “I-I love him…”

  She paused for a stretch, waiting for lightening to leap from the clear blue sky, the earth to rattle and shake, or the ground beneath her to open up and swallow her whole. But all remained still and quiet.

  And she wasn’t quite sure what to think about that either. Because in order to move forward, she needed to make peace with her past.

  “Please don’t hate me, Jimmy”, she whispered. “Please don’t—”

  Lana opened her eyes and sat motionless, paralyzed, her blurry gaze focusing on the butterfly perched on the top of Jimmy’s headstone. Its brilliant blue wings fluttered a few times, almost as if it was trying to snag her attention. Completely transfixed on its vivid beauty, a lick of awareness whispered over her skin, and although the sultry air was thick and muggy, she shivered.

  The butterfly lodged on its perch while Lana wept, watching as grief, sorrow, and guilt spilled from her lashes. And when the small creature fluttered its wings a few minutes later to take flight, a mysterious wave of harmony and peace swaddled her body.

  She couldn’t explain it—lord knows, it didn’t make a lick of sense—but for the first time since that fateful day one year ago, Lana felt her equilibrium return.

  Jimmy was sending her a sign.

  It’s okay. It’s time to move on.

  It’s time to let me go…

  Chapter 33

  “We need to talk.”

  The tip of Mayor Cliffburg’s pen stilled as his eyes lifted toward the female voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought I was pretty clear about you lying low for a few days.”

  “I needed more details.”

  “Then you should’ve called”, he ground out, dropping his pen. “Anybody see you come in here?”

  Jenny gently nudged the door closed behind her. “Relax. The building is nearly empty this morning.”

  “Yes, but the Public Services Department is—”

  “The Public Services Department is buzzing with post-storm clean up coordination. Trust me”, she claimed, stepping further into the mayor’s office, “No one saw me.”

  Michael released an anxious brea
th, then placed his elbows against his desk, tenting his hands into a point under his chin. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s too risky.”

  “Then I’ll get right to the point. You promised me a job in exchange for my performance yesterday. I’m here to collect.”

  Michael chuckled under his breath.

  Dimwitted bitch.

  Guess this is what he got for involving the redheaded broad in his crafty scheme. Recruiting an amateur for a role as crucially important as this one had been wasn’t his usual M.O., but the opportunity had been too perfect to pass up. Tension had been mounting between Lana and Jenny for months: a clear-cut motive. That, coupled with the fact that there was no evidence linking he and Jenny together, made the woman an easy and obvious choice for the job.

  But the permanent stain on Lana’s “good girl image” didn’t mean a damn thing if suspicious minds stumbled upon a connection. And every minute Jenny spent in this office with him threatened to do just that. “Well, obviously I need some time to make good on my end of the deal. Everything has to appear convincing, Jenny. Timing is key.”

  “That bit of information might’ve been helpful last week when you first came to me with your ‘brilliant’ plan”, she emphasized with air quotes. “I already gave my two-weeks at Leo’s.”

  Was she mocking him? Mocking his superior intelligence?

  Placing his palms on the desk he rose from his leather chair, moving around the mahogany furniture until he stood directly in front of her. He could tell by the way her breath hitched, by the way her pupils dilated, that she was afraid of him.

  Good. She should be.

  He wasn’t a violent man, per se, but he knew people that were. Having friends in low places was like an insurance fund: you pay them in a predetermined manner (in this case, turning a blind eye to their criminal activity) and if a situation should arise, you simply made a claim.

  Tempting as it was to reach for the phone, it wasn’t necessary; he could handle this bitch in his sleep. “A little rash, don’t you think, Mrs. Carson?”

  Jenny swallowed hard, the sound practically echoing off the plaque-filled walls. “We had a deal. If you can’t uphold your end, then I’ll—”

  Cupping her chin with his hand, he squeezed. Hard. “You threatening me?”

  “No, I just—”

  “Because the humiliation Lana suffered yesterday is a drop in the bucket compared to what I’d do to you if you double-cross me. You got that?” He seethed, his face inches from hers. He loosened his grip when Jenny gave a weak nod, then shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Good. Now get the hell out of my office before someone sees you. I’ll be in touch.”

  Jenny didn’t need to be asked twice. She’d turned toward the door so fast she nearly made herself dizzy.

  Damn, and to think she’d voted for the guy four years ago…

  No doubt the man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which only served to reiterate that she’d done the right thing. The blazing mid-morning sun nearly blinded her as she exited city hall, her porcelain skin branded by the singeing rays. Sinking into the driver’s seat of her Civic, she drew in a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on the front of her denim skirt.

  The humiliation Lana suffered yesterday is a drop in the bucket compared to what I’d do to you if you double-cross me. You got that?

  Yeah. She got it, all right. Maneuvering out of her parking space Jenny set her sights on her next stop: Mainland Hospital.

  “Where is she?” Randall whispered hoarsely. His throat felt raw, like he’d swallowed a bucketful of rusted nails. That was only the tip of the iceberg, though. Because there didn’t seem to be a place on his body that didn’t ache. And although his strong frame appeared battered and broken, it was his heart that garnered the most pain.

  The nurse studied one of the monitors behind him and then scribbled the information in his chart. “You mean the cute brunette that’s been wearing a hole in the linoleum in front of the nurse’s station?”

  “That’d be the one.”

  Setting his chart on the edge of the bed, she snatched the stethoscope from her neck and carefully inserted the earpieces. She listened to his lungs for a stretch, instructing him to breathe deeply, then normal.

  Randall knew to keep quiet while she listened. As a paramedic, he couldn’t count the number of times he’d arrived at the scene of an emergency, the kind where every precious second counted, only to be mistaken for a damn counselor. Staring death in the eyeballs tended to do that to a person: make them spill their secrets, voice their regrets. He was trained to tune out the rising chaos, to concentrate solely on the patient’s needs. Didn’t make his job easier, though.

  Plucking the stethoscope from her ears, the nurse hung it around her neck and reached for his chart once more. “Your stomach may feel a little queasy for a bit; that’s normal after general anesthesia. I’m going to get you some crackers and juice. If you do well with that, I’ll let you pick something from the menu for dinner.”

  “And could you—”

  “Yes”, she interrupted, “I’ll send her in.”

  “Thanks”, he managed hoarsely.

  Fingers of sunbeams filtered through the mini-blinds, casting parallel patterns of light and shadows along the peach-swirled wallpaper.

  Peach…

  “What is it with you women: always referring to colors as food?” He’d asked. “Suddenly purple’s eggplant or grape, green’s lime or avocado, and orange can be anything from salmon to carrot to—”

  “Peach”, she’d interrupted.

  “Yeah, peach.”

  God, he had it bad. Peach …? Really…?

  His thoughts drifted to that night—the night he’d held Lana in his arms in the middle of the dance floor at The Saloon. His memory was sharp, vivid—like he was reliving the moment again: the way the blue lights settled on her satiny skin, the way she’d felt pressed against him, the wanton look in her eyes. In fact when he closed his lids, he could practically smell the subtle scent of vanilla that always seemed to linger on her soft body…

  “I think you might’ve outdone Olivia’s infamous Jet Ski joyride this time”, Kendall remarked as she stepped into the room. “At least she came back in one piece.”

  Randall’s eyes flew open, his gaze landing on the raven-haired exotic beauty. A stab of disappointment bit into his chest, vibrating his wounded soul.

  Crazy, really. It’d never occurred to him that the nurse had been referring to Kendall when she’d mentioned the cute brunette.

  My, how times have changed…

  He wasn’t necessarily disappointed by Kendall’s presence, per se. He’d just been expecting someone else.

  Wishful thinking, buddy. You walked out on Lana, remember?

  Yeah, unfortunately he did.

  Forcing a smile he didn’t quite feel, Randall gestured toward his body. “I am in one piece.”

  “Barely”, she whispered as she dropped into the chair at his bedside. “Damn it, Rand, of all the crazy, stupid things you’ve done over the years, this tops the list.”

  “Can’t disagree with you there.” Pressing his palms against the lumpy mattress he carefully sought a position that didn’t aggravate his tender ribs, wincing slightly as he stirred.

  “So how do you feel?”

  “Like I rolled my truck in the middle of a tropical storm”, he revealed wryly. Kendall didn’t seem to find his attempt at sarcasm very amusing, however. Crossing her arms, her amber eyes narrowed. “All right, all right—I feel like shit.”

  Satisfied with his honesty Kendall reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have no idea how worried we’ve been.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, ‘we’… There’s an entire waiting room”—she gestured with a tilt of her head—“ filled with people that love you, Rand.”

  But not Lana. He didn’t blame her for not being here; he hadn’t exactly given her a reason to believe that loving him mattered. Because sometimes actions
did speak louder than words, and walking out on her yesterday while she’d begged him not to spoke volumes.

  “I’ve known for a while, you know.”

  Jolted from the memory of yesterday, Randall regarded her with uncertainty. “Impossible.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase, then: I’ve had my suspicions for a while. It all started with the scuffle at the station with Tommy. And the following month my suspicion was confirmed when I saw the two of you dancing at The Saloon. The way you looked at her… It’s the same way Ty looks at me. That’s when I knew.”

  “Knew what, exactly?”

  Kendall smiled for the first time since she’d stepped into the room. “You love her.”

  God, did he ever. He loved her something fierce. Lana Phillips was his kryptonite, his biggest weakness. Everything about her—from her contagious smile, to her incredible body, to the way she picked at her polished nails, to her unyielding faith in him. A wounded man lost in a black hole of nothingness, Lana was his beacon in the dark, the mesmerizing light luring him to safety. She was his everything.

  “Yeah”, he admitted just above a whisper. Briefly pinching the bridge of his nose, his gaze settled on Kendall once again. “God, Ken, I really fucked up this time. She told me she loved me, and what did I do?—I turned my back on her, left her sitting on the floor, crying, begging me not to leave.” Sighing in frustration, he tilted his head back against the nearly flat pillow. “No wonder she’s not here; can’t say I blame her.”

  Kendall shook her head. “Rand—she was here all night. She left first thing this morning, said she had something she had to take care of. I called her the moment Dr. Conrad informed us you’d made it out of surgery.” Kendall’s dark brows drew together. “Come to think of it, she should’ve been here by now…”