Magnolia Sky

by Susan Crandall

  “Where’s Rufus?” Analise asked as she filled his water dish.

  Olivia said, “Let him out early. He was whining and fretting all over the place. Must have smelled something in the yard.”

  At the sound of food and water being dished out, Skippy hopped in from the living room. Cole picked him up and scratched his tummy. Becca’s comments about the fate of the animals without a shelter came back to him.

  “Mom, do you know anything about the animal shelter?”

  His mom poured her coffee into the big thermal cup she took out to the shop with her. “Not much. Just that they’re always on the hunt for funding. Rib Fest should help.”

  “I heard that the county is thinking about shutting it down,” Cole said.

  She made the same grunting sound that she always used when she didn’t believe he hadn’t eaten a dozen cookies before dinner. “County’s always making noise about that.” Then she started on her list of grievances against the county since Clint Braynard came into office. Once she got going on that, getting her to look at a specific problem was impossible. He knew he’d have to take another run at her later about the shelter.

  She was still grousing when Ana kissed her cheek and she, Cole and Luke went out to get in the nursery truck and head to town.

  The closer they got to the hospital, the more Cole’s guts churned. He sat between Analise and Luke, worried that each bump in the road was going to force a gastronomic explosion of some kind. He nearly told them to forget the hospital stop twice before they pulled into the parking lot. Ana put the truck in park and Luke got out so Cole could slide across the bench seat and exit.

  Cole hesitated for a moment. Analise said, “Would you like me to come in with you?”

  He was tempted to ask her to go in for him, but one glance at Luke shot that idea out of the air. Cole had to do what was right—which was going inside and seeing Travis.

  “No.” He slid out. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Luke gave a nod of approval as Cole left the parking lot. Strange as it seemed, that single look calmed his jumping insides. If Calvin had been in this situation, he would have walked in this hospital and looked Travis in the eye; Cole would, too. He had to keep foremost in his mind that Travis had chased him, Travis had been the one to swing out into the wrong lane. He wasn’t here to lay blame, but he wasn’t going to crawl in, either.

  The farther he got from Luke and the closer to Travis’s hospital bed, the more that newfound courage began to falter. But Cole pressed on, asking the desk for the room number and taking the elevator to the second floor.

  His tennis shoes squeaked against the newly mopped tile as he walked down the hall. The noise seemed abnormally loud, as if screaming to get everyone’s attention. A couple of times he looked over his shoulder, certain someone was standing behind him staring, only to find himself alone in the hall.

  Travis’s door was partially closed. He listened for a moment to see if a doctor or someone was in there with him, but didn’t hear anything. With his heart sending reverberations throughout his veins, he knocked lightly.

  A sound came from inside, not quite a “Come in,” more mumbled than that.

  Slowly he pushed open the door and slipped inside.

  The bottom fell out of his stomach. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

  He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but what he saw lying in that bed shook him to his bones. If it weren’t for the banner with a get-well wish surrounded by dozens of signatures from Grover High hanging on the wall, Cole would have been certain he was in the wrong room.

  There wasn’t any part of the body in the bed that was recognizable as Travis Benson. His face was bandaged, showing only blackened eyes and swollen lips. Both legs were casted and in traction and one of his arms was in a cast that held his bent arm out from his body. A white sheet draped him from his waist to his upper thigh. Another bandage encircled his chest and ribs. It was like a Looney Tunes cartoon setup of Sylvester the cat or Wile E. Coyote without the laughing.

  Travis’s eyes shifted in Cole’s direction, but his head remained stationary on the pillow. He made a sound, but Cole didn’t have a clue what he was trying to say.

  Cole forced himself to walk closer to the bed. He’d never felt so lucky, or so miserable, in his entire life. He had no idea what to say, so he just stood there, staring like an idiot.

  Travis started making lots of noise and jerking his head from side to side on the pillow.

  Cole had just figured out that he was saying, “Get out! Get out! Get out!” when someone grabbed his shoulder from behind.

  “What are you doing here? Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?” a woman who had to be Travis’s mother shouted.

  Cole took a single step backward. “I just wanted to see him—”

  “So you didn’t kill him last week and you’re trying to finish off the job?”

  “No!”

  “I want you out of here! Do not come back!” She gave him a shove in the direction of the door.

  By the time Cole hit the doorway, a nurse was headed in. “What’s—” She hurried to Travis. “Settle down, now. Let’s not undo all the healing you’ve done,” she said smoothly. “Just relax. You’re just fine.”

  Grayness edged Cole’s vision. He managed about four steps toward the elevator when he got so dizzy he had to lean against the wall. He didn’t know how long he’d stood there when the nurse came back out of the room and put a hand on his shoulder. She shoved a glass of water in his hand. “Here, drink this.”

  He started to walk again, and she pushed him gently but firmly against the wall. “Not until I’m sure you’re not going to take a nosedive.”

  Cole slumped against the wall and took a drink of the water. His hand was shaking so much, he nearly spilled it down his shirtfront.

  “Don’t put too much in what Mrs. Benson said,” the nurse said quietly. “This has been very stressful for the family. She’s not thinking clearly.”

  “I just wanted to see him. . . . I didn’t . . .”

  “Of course you didn’t mean to upset anyone. It’s not your fault.”

  But it is. I was supposed to be home. If I hadn’t gone out that night, none of this would have happened. Suddenly he could see it all so clearly, how stupid the entire mess had been. No girl, not even Darcy Thayler, was worth the price Travis Benson was paying in there.

  He drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

  “Feeling better?” the nurse asked.

  He nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Cole walked out of the hospital unsure if his knees were going to buckle with the next step. But he emerged into the sunlight on his feet. When he saw Analise and Luke standing by the truck talking, he wanted to run and throw himself in her arms and cry like he had when he was little. Instead he drew in a deep breath and walked slowly across the parking lot.

  The second Analise’s eyes fell on him, he knew he was in for a barrage of questions. “You’re white as a ghost,” she said, stepping forward.

  Oh, please, please, don’t make me tell you what happened in there.

  She hesitated.

  Luke said, “Ana and I were just going to run across the street to the drugstore and pick up some Band-Aids.” He held up a blistered palm. “You wanna walk with us, or wait here?”

  Ana’s gaze cut to Luke. She had that look in her eye, the one she’d learned from Mom that said you were in deep shit.

  Cole quickly said, “I’ll wait here.”

  “All right.” Luke started to walk toward the road.

  After a second, Analise huffed under her breath. “You want anything?”

  He shook his head as he opened the rear gate of the truck, then sat down on it.

  Ana gave Cole one last backward glance before she caught up with Luke at the curb and they crossed the street.

  Cole closed his eyes and raised his face to the morning sun. The brightness bleached out
all color from the insides of his eyelids. He welcomed the whitewashing of his vision. It kept him from seeing the accident over and over again, as he did each time he’d closed his eyes for the last week. If he could keep the images away, the sounds remained buried, too. He didn’t have to hear the squealing tires, the grinding of metal against metal, the sicken- ing thud of Travis’s car hitting his, the revving of the engine as his Jeep had taken flight. It had all happened in an instant, yet replayed in slow motion in his mind—giving the mistaken impression that something could be done to stop it.

  Why was it everything that tore your life apart happened in a split second? Something so catastrophic that it changed everything about you should have some warning, a buildup so you could get used to the idea that things would never be the same again. Then maybe you’d have time to brace yourself—maybe you could take one last look at life before.

  But it didn’t happen that way. Calvin was forever ripped from them the instant his helicopter hit the ground. The accident with Travis happened in the blink of an eye. If only a person could call back a single second—things would be so different.

  He heard Ana and Luke talking as they came back and he quickly swiped away the single tear that had escaped his control. He jumped down to the ground and faced them.

  Luke said, “Ready to go to work?”

  Cole gave Luke a brusque nod, but avoided looking into Ana’s eyes. “Ready.”

  Luke braced his hands on the tile, leaning under the shower spray. As the hot shower pelted his tired muscles, he focused fully on the undercurrent that had been bothering him all week. Last night, as he’d watched Analise at the community dinner, relaxed and surrounded by those familiar to her, he knew that he was getting far too emotionally attached to her.

  Last evening, she’d showed a strong contrast to the ever-increasing strain he’d sensed in her. Outwardly she continued to be friendly and jovial with him—almost too jovial, as if she were covering up the tension with lighthearted humor. It was when she thought he wasn’t looking that he saw her anxiety in the tenseness of her mouth, the set of her jaw. They had no future. Her family was too important to her; there was no way she could protect them and have a romantic relationship with him. She had been happy with her life before he came—he didn’t want to alter that and leave her longing for something different.

  And that road went both ways. Although his life before Grover had been drifting without an anchor, he knew he could not count on these people to save him. He really had to pull back—before he was so attached he’d never be able to let go.

  There was no way for him to erase from his mind the time he and Ana had shared in his bed. The sex had been great, but it was the closeness throughout the night that he cherished the most. It was all they would ever have—and God knows, he didn’t deserve that. He couldn’t shake the haunting fact that the only reason Analise had opened herself to him was because her husband was dead—and Luke had a direct hand in that death. There was something totally perverse in the entire situation—a Shakespearian tragedy in the making. It was up to him to prevent a catastrophic ending.

  He got out of the shower and noticed Skippy curled up in a ball behind the wicker hamper. He was really going to miss this place, these people.

  He left the bathroom wearing only his jeans, toweling his hair as he walked back toward his bedroom. His knee throbbed and the stabbing was increasing its persistence between his shoulder blades. It was going to rain.

  Analise stuck her head out of her room. “Almost ready?” she asked.

  He couldn’t repress the smile that the sight of her brought; he hid it behind the towel. “I think I’m going to pass tonight. It’s been a long week.” He wanted to go, wanted it more than he could say. But it’d be better if he started pulling himself back inch by inch.

  Her gaze immediately shot to his knee. “A lot of pain?”

  “Not really. I just thought I’d watch a little TV and turn in early—just in case it’s dry enough to work at the park tomorrow.”

  She snorted. “I’d hardly call our Saturday at the Boxcar a late-nighter.”

  “Just the same. I’m not going to be very good company tonight.”

  She hesitated a moment, then said, “Did you tell Liv?” She tilted her head slightly, looking so beautiful that he wrapped the towel around his hands to keep from reaching out and touching her.

  “I was hoping you’d take care of that for me.” He grinned sheepishly.

  “Oh, no.” She waggled an index finger in the air. “Liv doesn’t believe in not shooting the messenger.”

  He laughed. “In that case, maybe I’ll send a note attached to Skippy. I doubt she’d have the heart to do damage to something so cute and furry.”

  “I think Cole already tried that tactic once.”

  “And?”

  “Let’s just say Skippy was safe.”

  “Cole?”

  She tsked, and shook her head gravely. “Don’t think he fared as well.”

  Just then, Olivia came out of her room. She was wearing a purple nylon jogging suit and a pair of New Balance tennis shoes. She looked pointedly at Luke. “I think they have a NO SHIRT NO SHOES NO SERVICE rule at the Boxcar.” She winked. “Not that any of the ladies would mind in your particular case.”

  “Luke’s not going,” Analise said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye that made Luke want to turn her over his knee—another sure sign that he needed to keep his distance.

  “What do you mean, he’s not going?”

  “He said he’s going to watch TV.”

  “There isn’t even anything good on tonight.”

  “Maybe he’s just sick of being with us twenty-four/seven.”

  “Well, I certainly can’t see that,” Olivia said. “We’re perfectly pleasant people. Is it his knee? You’re working him too hard.”

  “I’m working him too hard? Who pressed him into staying?”

  “Well, he needs to take better care of himself. It hasn’t been that long—”

  “Ahem!” Luke cleared his throat loudly. “Again, ladies, I must remind you, I’m standing right here.”

  The second Olivia swung her narrowed gaze in his direction, he realized he was better off being invisible.

  She said, “So, why aren’t you going?”

  “Honestly, I’m just tired. I can’t keep up with you women, working all week and partying all night.”

  Olivia put her hand on her cheek. A look of regret came over her. “She has been working you too hard.”

  “Liv! Really, I insist he takes plenty of breaks. He hasn’t complained—”

  “Of course he hasn’t. He’s a gentleman.”

  “All right!” Luke threw his hands in the air in surrender and headed toward his bedroom. “I’ll get my shirt.”

  He’d start distancing himself tomorrow.

  When the dancing started, Luke made certain that he and Cole were at the pool table. He was chalking his cue when he saw Analise and Dave jitterbug past—he supposed it wasn’t actually a jitterbug, but a country equivalent that looked nearly as athletic. He looked quickly away.

  “Sure you want to play another game?” he asked Cole with raised brows.

  “Hey, I can’t let you walk out of here without me taking at least one game.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I used to think I was pretty good.”

  “Always play with someone better than you. Only way to improve. I used to play with your brother.”

  “He was better than you?”

  Luke grinned. He knew the envy in Cole’s voice was aimed at Calvin, not himself—and that’s the way he wanted it to remain. “He always kicked my ass.”

  “Hmm. Was there anything Calvin wasn’t good at?”

  The question caused Luke to miss the cue ball. He hit it high and to the right, causing his cue to skitter off and the ball to roll slowly to the left, missing any chance at a shot. He stood up and leaned his hip on the table. Truth or lie? Build up the man into a legend, or make Cole
see just how human Calvin was? Luke had a sneaking suspicion that part of Cole’s current problems stemmed from the fact that he thought he could never live up to his older brother.

  “He was good at lots of things—but not everything.” Like fidelity.

  Just as Luke feared, Cole asked, “Like what wasn’t he good at?”

  “Well . . .” He looked into the air, searching his memory for an appropriate example. “He was a lousy cook. Nearly poisoned us when it was his turn.”

  “Aw, that doesn’t count. No guy can cook.”

  “He couldn’t balance his checkbook. Always took the bank’s word.”

  “That’s no big deal.”

  Luke decided to inch nearer the truth. “Occasionally he broke a promise.”

  Cole looked serious as he considered that. Then he said, “But it was always for a good reason, right?”

  After a moment, Luke said, “No. Not always.”

  Cole didn’t respond, just lined up and took his shot. His game was improving.

  They completed the game without much conversation. Luke wondered if Cole was angry with him for saying what he did about Calvin. It was difficult to tell if it was that, or if he was just concentrating on the game—he did win.

  When they finished, Luke said, “I’m going to step outside for a minute, it’s hot in here.”

  “Okay.” Cole put their cues back in the rack, while Luke retrieved the balls from the pockets.

  When Luke looked at him again, Cole was looking toward the door. For a second, he appeared pleasantly surprised—then his face became unreadable.

  Luke followed his gaze. The girl from Rib Fest was walking in with a couple Luke assumed were her parents. He gave Cole a pat on the shoulder. “See you in a bit.” He wanted to stay as far away as possible from having to make up an excuse not to dance. He couldn’t take another bantering exchange between Liv and Ana that would result in his capitulation; he was not dancing. That would involve touching Analise, and he couldn’t do that and not have his feelings written all over his face. If he used his knee as an excuse, Olivia would start fussing all over again.