She held Eleanor’s gaze, sucking in a huge breath of air. She felt lightheaded, as though her mind did not have enough room for all of the thoughts that had suddenly taken flight and were swirling around each other.
A spark of interest filled her and she twisted her head to stare at the undulating water in the pool. The crystal-clear water, so clean and pure. So enticing. Giving weightlessness to someone so mired in dark thoughts. Allowing the freedom to work tired muscles in a way that washes the sweat away. She had always loved swimming more than any other exercise, preferring it over the weights in the gymnasium or running on a track.
Sucking in another deep breath of chlorinated air, she wondered if she had it in her. The ability to teach someone else. Not coaching them to Olympic greatness, but to something better. A chance to work their scarred bodies in a way that gave them freedom.
She turned back to Eleanor, seeing the hopefulness in her dark eyes and—
“Eleanor!” A voice from the doorway grabbed their attention. “We’ve called 9-1-1-. One of the men fainted or something!”
Eleanor grabbed her hand and they hustled to the side door, leading to a patio overlooking the grounds. They saw a small crowd gathering and Rafe kneeling on the ground next to a man.
As they approached, Rafe looked up and said, “He just collapsed. I can’t revive him.”
They watched as Rafe continued basic first aid and her heartbeat pounded in fear. She was so relieved when she finally heard an approaching siren. The ambulance drove from the parking lot onto the grounds, getting as close as they could while Eleanor signaled them over.
Stunned as Jaxon leaped from the ambulance, she stood in shocked silence, watching as he and another man and woman immediately went into action. She remembered he referred to them as Bob and Mary when he was talking about the accident day.
Rafe was giving the man’s name to Bob as Mary inserted an IV needle into his arm. Jaxon took his vital statistics, calling in information to a hospital. Eleanor moved the observers back to give them plenty of room.
Suddenly, calling out codes she did not understand, she watched in horror as Jaxon turned and ripped open the man’s shirt. He had an automated external defibrillator in his hand and as Bob placed the pads on the man’s chest, Jaxon hooked up the AED.
As it began working, she wanted to close her eyes to the frightening scene in front of her but was unable to take her gaze off Jaxon. Calm. Sure. Confident. A life saver.
A sudden rush of love for him hit her and she locked her knees to keep from falling to the ground. He had not noticed her, and she said nothing, not wanting to be a distraction, but her desire was to rush to him, throw herself in his arms, beg his forgiveness, and declare her love was overwhelming.
Holding tight to those emotions, she forced her body to stay in place, letting him continue his work instead.
The man appeared to be reviving and the trio loaded him onto the gurney and rolled him to the ambulance. As Mary hopped inside and Bob moved to the driver’s door, Jaxon took a second to shake Rafe’s hand and speak to him. His eyes swept back, probably to send assurances to Eleanor, when they landed on her instead. Eyes wide, his mouth opened, but nothing came out.
A smile was the only thing she could offer him at the moment and she watched, raptly, as her unspoken emotion hit him. His lips curved as the back doors were closed and he jogged to the passenger side. The ambulance, siren blaring, took off through the parking lot.
Eleanor walked to Rafe and the couple held each other tightly. Not wanting to disturb their moment, she turned and moved back through the door. Standing at the side of the pool, she stared at the water, so familiar to her. ‘You’re a little mermaid’, Nonnie had always said. Maybe I am…maybe that’s what I was always meant to be.
Morgan walked into her father’s house after knocking on the door first. “Dad? Are you home?” She knew her mother was at her weekly book club meeting and had wanted a chance to talk to him alone.
She moved toward the kitchen and observed him sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, staring at the back yard through a large, sliding glass door. His hand rested on the handle of his coffee cup, his empty lunch plate pushed to the side.
“Dad,” she called again, surprised when his gaze did not leave the window. “Are you all right?” She slid into the chair angled toward him and rested her left arm on the table, her eyes roaming over his expressionless face before moving to the view outside. The pool was in the center of the yard with a few chairs set under a pergola at one end.
“Your mother used to like to sit and watch you swim,” he said, his voice strangely unanimated.
Not knowing what to say, she remained quiet.
He shook his head slowly and said, “She always warned me about being too hard on you.” His voice broke as he continued. “From the first moment you were in the water as a baby, you loved it. I would carry you around in my arms and you would kick and splash. You were fearless, swimming underwater at an early age, loving the water more than playing with your toys.”
“I did love the water, Dad. I still do.”
“I did too. I never made it to the world championship level but, on a national level, I would at least get on the platform sometimes. Mostly, I was just a great swimmer, but not an exceptional one.”
Though he was telling her something she had heard numerous times in her life, she still remained silent.
“I just thought that if you had consistent training and coaching, from your earliest years, it would make the difference. And I was right. You were poised to take it all…maybe Gold.”
“Dad,” she said softly, and he turned his eyes from the pool in the back yard to her face. She held his gaze, noting the lines around his eyes were deeper, the creases in his forehead more pronounced. “You were a good coach. There were times I wished you were more of a dad than a coach, but,” she shrugged, “my life was a good one.” She thought of Jaxon and Jayden. She thought of Miss Ethel and all her boys. She thought of Jaxon’s world starting hard and knew she had never known such difficulty.
Swallowing hard, she said, “But my life is different now. Our lives are different now. Our world changed, and we have to change with it.”
“I hate that for you,” he said, his voice even more broken as his eyes grew watery. “I feel like I failed you. I made you ready for the Olympics but forgot to make you ready for whatever life threw at you.”
She leaned forward, her hand reaching for his arm. She felt the strong, corded muscles in his forearm, lightly covered with reddish hair. His strength mixed with the vulnerability shining in his face as he peered back at her. “Dad, you did not fail me. You coached me to be strong and that strength has made my recuperation go faster. You coached me to set goals and I’m finding new ones, from just living on my own with this temporary disability to what a new career might be. Dad, I’m still a winner no matter what life throws at me.”
A sob erupted from deep in his chest as he moved to gather her in his arms. The sight and sound of her father’s grief hit her, causing her tears to flow as his arms encircled her. Warmth moved through her veins as she felt her father’s humanness for the first time.
“What’s going on?” her mother’s voice sounded from the kitchen door, worry streaking her face.
Letting her father go, Morgan smiled through teary eyes and said, “We’re good, Mom. Just having a moment.”
Wiping his eyes as well, her father cleared his throat and agreed, “Nothing to worry about. As Morgan said, we were just having a father-daughter moment.”
Her mother stepped into the room, her face a mask of surprise, and said, “Well, I’m glad. Quite honestly, you two scared me to death!”
Standing, she hugged her mother, whispering, “We’re fine,” before turning to both parents and saying, “I’ve been thinking of a new career possibility, but I’d rather finalize some things before I tell you about it. Cocking her head to the side, she added, “It might be something I can use some hel
p with Dad, but I’ll let you know.”
“Well, I’m at loose ends now, so if you need me, I’m here,” he replied, earning a huge smile from her.
29
With his hand raised, pounding on the door, Jaxon called, “Mrs. Weber? It’s the Richmond Emergency Services. We need to know if you’re okay. Can you come to the door?”
Standing in the narrow hallway of the old apartment building, he glanced behind him as Mary talked to the neighbor.
“I ain’t seen her in two days. She was feeling poorly a couple of days ago and I told her she outta go see a doctor. But, then, I had to work two long shifts and realized this morning I hadn’t heard her coming or going.”
Bob moved in next to him and asked, “We need to get in?”
“Yeah. I’m going to see if I can pick the lock without breaking her door.”
Mrs. Weber was part of the RES residential check-in program for shut-ins. Within a moment, he had the door lock picked, not surprised at how easy it was. Knowing she would have prescription drugs in her home, he was glad she had not been plagued with robberies. Opening the door, it caught on the chain lock.
“Damn,” he cursed under his breath. “Mrs. Weber? Can you come to the door?”
With no response, he stood back as Todd, one of the firemen who had also arrived on the scene, came forward with the chain cutters. With a powerful snip, the links fell to the side and he was able to push the door open.
He stalked inside and immediately knew the news would not be good. Jogging into the bedroom, he saw Mrs. Weber on the bed, her covers still tucked up under her chin as though she were sleeping. Carefully touching her neck, he felt no pulse.
Bob and Todd headed back down the stairs to get the gurney as Mary moved in to stand next to him.
As he stood, staring at the elderly woman, her thin, white hair brushed back from her face and her wire-rimmed glasses on the nightstand, his heart clenched. Blinking, he tried to keep the image of Miss Ethel from his mind, but his breath was ragged as he drew it into his lungs.
Mary said nothing, but placed her hand on his shoulder, and he heard the audible swallowing coming from her and knew she was affected as well.
“It’s never easy,” Mary finally said. “At least it looks as though she died in her sleep.”
He nodded, hearing Bob entering the apartment again. Blowing out a shuddering breath, he agreed. “She just reminds me of…well, someone I’m not ready to lose yet. Hell, I’ll never be able to lose them.”
Bob and Todd entered the bedroom, and, with dignity, they easily lifted her onto the stretcher. She weighed so little, it was not difficult to take her out to the ambulance. The drive to the hospital was quiet, no one in the mood to talk. At the hospital, they transferred Mrs. Weber to the ER so that a medical doctor would declare her deceased.
He could hardly wait for his shift to be over. As soon as he climbed onto his motorcycle, he roared down the street, his mind filled with only wanting to see one person. Arriving at the house, he jogged up the steps and through the front door.
“Miss Ethel?” he called out, his heart pounding at the similarity of his call now to the call of Mrs. Weber’s name. “Miss Ethel?”
Not receiving an answer, he rushed to the kitchen, but did not see her there. About to go upstairs, a movement through the window caught his eye. Seeing her bent over, pruning her roses in the flower garden, his breath left his body in a rush and he clenched the counter to hold himself upright.
Filling his lungs with difficulty, he steadied his heartbeat before stepping through the back door onto the stone patio. Not wanting to scare her, he called out gently, “Miss Ethel?”
She turned, her face creasing into a wide smile as she stood up straight, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, Jaxon, how lovely to see you!”
His heart light, he moved straight to her, enveloping her in his embrace. Her thin frame was swallowed in his arms and he held tight. Her hands patted his back and he finally loosened his hug. She leaned back and stared intently into his eyes.
“What a greeting, sweet boy.” She continued to assess him carefully before asking, “How was your day?”
Inhaling deeply, he let it out slowly and admitted, “Rough. We lost someone and I just…I just…well, I…”
“You wanted to assure yourself that I was still here,” she finished for him, her gaze resting kindly on him.
“Yeah,” he breathed. He watched as she turned and picked up her clippers, gathering the basket of cut roses. “Your flowers are beautiful as always,” he noted, looking at the bushes loaded with blooms.
“I thought I would take some to Morgan’s grandmother. She’s taken up watercolor floral paintings and asked for some of my roses.”
The mention of Morgan brought another sigh from him. It had been a couple of days since he had seen her, and his heart missed her as though it had been much longer.
She straightened and, with her head tilted to the side, asked, “How are things with Morgan?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her in a couple of days. She said she needed time to be by herself and figure out what she needed to do.”
Nodding, Miss Ethel began walking toward the house, and quoted, “F. Scott Fitzgerald said, ‘The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.’” She placed her hand on his arm. “Morgan has had to watch her world fall apart. To put it back together again takes time and courage.”
He nodded, saying nothing, escorting her back into the house. She set the basket of flowers onto the counter and untied her garden apron. Slipping her hand onto his arm, they walked to the front door, where he found himself engulfed in her embrace.
Smiling up at him, she said, “Thank you for checking on me. You boys are always so good to me.”
He kissed the top of her head and waved as he walked toward his motorcycle, remembering for the millionth time, how lucky he was that Miss Ethel had been his soft place to land.
Staring at his beer, Jaxon wondered why he thought it would be a good idea to come to Grimm’s on a Friday night. The bar was crowded, both at the tables and on the small dance floor next to the jukebox. He glanced around, but the mass of people made it difficult to see.
Zander and Rosalie, having gotten Miss Ethel to babysit for the night, joined him at the table but, for once, watching the two of them interact with each other only exemplified his loneliness.
Jayden walked in, settling down next to him. He looked over but did not say anything and he knew his twin could read his mood. Hell, a stranger could read my mood right now, he realized.
His chair jiggled slightly as someone at the table behind him moved their chair. Not looking around, he took another swig of his beer. Thinking it was time to call it an early night, he stood.
“Hey,” a sultry voice called out from his left and he looked down as a petite, well-built blonde sidled up next to him. “You wanna dance?”
Not able to summon up a flirty smile, he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m—”
“Married.”
Jerking at the comment coming from his right, his gaze landed on Morgan, standing next to him, a wide smile on her lips. Tall, long-limbed, extremely toned body showcased in tight jeans, boots, and a blue knit top that had little flounces over the shoulders, she was wearing the same outfit that she wore the first night he met her at Grimm’s. Her russet hair, hanging over her shoulders, glistened in the lights of the bar. Her blue eyes were holding him captive. She bit her lip before bursting into laughter.
“Sweetheart, sorry I’m late,” she said, moving straight to him.
Getting close, without touching her, he locked eyes with her and smiled widely. “Honey…you’re here,” he grinned, as she threw her right arm around his neck and moved in for a hug.
Wrapping her in his arms, careful of her left arm, he was reminded of how her luscious body lined up perfectly with his. She planted her lips on his and he angle
d his head for maximum contact.
“Sorry, jeez. Wear a ring,” he heard the blonde say, but continued to focus only on Morgan’s lips. She tasted of lemon drops.
Hearing a cross between a sigh and a moan, he plundered her mouth as all other thoughts fled his mind.
Her tongue tangled with his and he felt the electricity straight to his cock. The bar noise fell away, leaving only the two of them in the universe. Nothing existed but the feel of her soft lips against his, her body in his arms, and the taste of sweet lemons on her tongue.
After a long, wet kiss, she finally mumbled against his lips, “Ih sheh gah?”
Brow lowering, he tried to clear the lust-fog before looking into her eyes, “Huh?”
Giggling, she sucked in her kiss-swollen lips as an adorable blush covered her face. “Is she gone?” she enunciated, her voice as soft as a whisper.
Shifting his gaze from side to side, he nodded, but kept his arms wrapped tightly. “Yeah.”
“Um…you want to let me go now?” she asked, her arms still clutching his shoulders.
“Not particularly,” he replied, a grin curving his lips.
“Good. Let’s dance,” she laughed.
Smiling at her recreation of their first kiss, his brow lowered as he said, “What about your arm? The dance floor is crowded.”
She leaned forward, lifting on her toes to call out over the music, “Then you want to get out of here?”
Surprised at her suggestion, he asked, “Whatcha got in mind?”
She licked her lips and, using the same words from their first meeting, asked, “How about a little diversion?”
His grin matched hers as he said, “You lead, I’ll follow, Morgan. Wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do, I’ll be right here with you.”
Jaxon: Heroes at Heart Page 21