by Norah Wilson
Downed trees! Dammit, they couldn’t afford any more delays. What a nightmare.
“Here,” Jace said.
She turned to see he’d taken off his coat and was offering it to her.
“Good thinking.” She took it from him and snugged it around Kayla’s torso, on top of the Mylar blanket. She quickly removed her own jacket and tucked it up under the back of the prone girl’s thighs. “How you doing, Kayla?”
“I’m kinda sleepy.”
“I know,” Ember said. “But I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”
“Okay.” The small voice sounded like it came from very far away.
“Kayla?” her mother struggled to sit up.
Ember looked up at Jace, intending to signal him to tend to the mother, but he’d already moved around to Margot’s side. She saw him kneel—that had to hurt his ankle—then heard him quietly reassuring the anxious woman. Ember returned her full focus to Kayla.
She pulled the girl’s wrist out from under the blanket to check her pulse. It was weak and rapid, and the skin on the back of her hand was a mottled blue. Her respirations were growing shallower and faster too.
Where was that freakin’ ambulance? The patient was in shock. She needed oxygen and IV liquids.
Kayla shivered. “I’m cold.”
“The ambulance is just a minute away. They’re going to have warm blankets. It’ll be just like you’re floating on a warm cloud.”
“Mmm, that sounds nice.”
Ember looked over at Jace, who looked back at her with such faith in his eyes. Did he have any idea how close this girl was to death? All the blankets in the world wouldn’t help her if her perfusion to key organs fell below—
“Listen!’ Constable Mason came skidding around the back of the car. “Hear that?”
He was right! She could hear the ululating wail of an ambulance’s siren in the distance, drawing nearer.
Weak with relief, she sank to the ground beside Kayla. Cold water saturated her already damp jeans, and the rain pelted her back. A hard shiver rattled her, but she didn’t care. The ambulance was coming.
Thank God.
Chapter 16
JACE COULDN’T remember the last time he felt so emotionally wiped, and his ankle was starting to throb painfully. Then again, it had probably been throbbing for awhile and he was just now feeling it. Like a hard blow in the boxing ring, you didn’t necessarily feel the pain until the bell had rung. It had been a hell of a day.
It was half past six by the time the Gnome Sweet Home came into view. By some miracle, there was still power in the area. For now at least. The storm had abated for a while around midday, but only to catch its breath. The wind had renewed its ferocity as the second ambulance had been loading its passenger. He hoped for both the Hunter ladies’ sakes that they had safe journeys.
When they’d finally rolled into the motel, Mrs. Dufour was standing at the window. She waved to them as they drove past the small office/kitchen. She then turned off the single light over the door as though she’d been waiting for them to get back safely before she abandoned that post. As if she’d been worried about her only and unofficial, pay-in-cash guests.
But as long as the day had been for Jace, it had been longer still for Ember.
He’d never seen her like that. She’d taken charge of the scene, assessing the patients calmly, comforting them, directing the police officers. Dr. Ember Standish had been in total command of the situation. Or so it seemed. He’d had no idea how dire young Kayla’s situation was until the EMTs arrived and Ember briefed them. They’d had the young woman on a gurney in no time, neck stabilized with a hard collar and what looked like sandbags, oxygen mask strapped to her pale face. A moment later, they’d transferred her to the shelter of the ambulance, heaping more warm blankets onto her. While one EMT checked her vitals, another started an IV.
The first EMT had taken his stethoscope off and declared that Ember had almost certainly saved the young woman’s life by elevating her feet.
She’d shrugged off the praise, saying the cops’ actions in making them lie down and covering them with the first aid blankets was just as critical. But Jace had no doubt the EMT was right.
He’d half expected Ember to stay with the patient for the ambulance ride, but as they prepared to go, she closed the doors and gave the side of the vehicle a rap with her knuckles. The ambulance pulled away, lights flashing and sirens wailing.
She must have seen the question in his eyes. “I’m a GP, Jace. A family physician. I did do a rotation in the ER during my residency, but those paramedics have undoubtedly seen a lot more trauma than I have.”
“You seem to have done all right here.”
“I hope so.”
With that, she’d turned her attention back to the mother. When the second ambulance arrived, Jace watched her brief them. Margot Hunter’s evacuation was efficient, but not as urgent as her daughter’s. One of the EMTs took the time to quiz the police about the accident, how the victims got from the wreck to the shoulder of the road, etc. Finally, they’d switched on their sirens and driven off.
Now, Ember opened room thirteen’s door and hit the light switch. A dim lamp in the corner and another beside the bed leapt to sixty-watt life.
“At last.” Jace moved over to the bed, propped his crutches against the wall, dropped his plastic convenience store bag on the coverlet, and sat down.
Ember approached the bed too, dropping her knapsack on the floor beside it, along with her own convenience store bag.
They’d stopped at a gas station on their way back for drinks and snacks to get them through the evening. Amongst the touristy merchandise, Jace had spied some men’s T-shirts and shorts—the former made of soft white cotton emblazoned with the New Brunswick flag and the latter made from a flannel printed with the provincial tartan. He’d picked up one of each for Ember. While he had dry, reasonably clean clothes at the motel, all of her stuff was damp from being pressed into service as blankets.
“You need to get into dry clothes, then get your ankle elevated,” Ember said. She fetched his knapsack from the chair in the corner and dropped it by his feet. “Unless you want to grab a shower first?”
“You go first. But take this with you.” He snagged his convenience store bag, pulled out the T-shirt and shorts, and held them out to her. “You’ll need something to put on while your other stuff dries.”
“What? You mean to say there’s no fluffy terrycloth bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door?”
“Bathrobe? Angel, there’s hardly any paint hanging on the back of that door.”
Grinning, she took the clothes from him, but as she looked down at them, she sobered. “Thanks for this. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.”
“You had plenty on your mind, including getting us back here in one piece.” That latter part killed him. He’d have done anything to be able to take over the task of driving and let her rest, but if a guy was going to try using the wrong foot on the pedals for the first time, it probably shouldn’t be in an unfamiliar car during a torrential downpour. “Next time, I’ll try to sprain my left ankle. Now get yourself into that shower before you freeze.”
“Next time?”
He paused. “It’s just an expression, Ember.”
When she disappeared into the bathroom, he limped over to check the thermostat. He’d cranked it earlier, and the room was much warmer than it had been when they set out to have their supper at Cupid’s Point, but he nudged it up a few more degrees. Best to warm it up real well in case they lost power in the night.
When he turned back to the bed, he noticed the coverlet showed wet outlines from his ass and legs. Time to do something about that. His ankle shrieked in protest, but he managed to trade his sodden clothes for dry ones—gray sweat pants and a black Picaroons T-shirt. If he was going to be sleeping in his clothes, he was going to be comfortable. He dug some ibuprofen out of his bag, located a bottle of water from the convenience store purchases
, and tossed the pills back. Then he sat down in the dry chair in the corner.
The pain was enough to make him grimace. As little as he’d contributed out there at the accident scene, he knew he’d overdone it. He also knew the throbbing would settle down when the painkillers kicked in, and when he elevated his foot. No point doing that, though, until he’d had his shower.
He leaned back in the chair and let his eyelids drift shut. Not to sleep. Just to rest his eyes. And to clear his mind. He needed to not think about anything for a while. Not Bridget Northrup. Not the transaction with the Standish farm. And not Ember herself.
He definitely should not be thinking about how badly he wanted to just hold her, kiss her.
Or how much she was going to hate him.
“So what do you think?”
He startled at her voice, and opened his eyes. He hadn’t heard the shower shut off, or the bathroom door. He must have nodded off.
Shaking the fog of sleep away, he stared up at her. She stood there barefoot on the worn carpet, her red hair tumbling in a damp mess around her shoulders. The crew-necked T-shirt no longer sported a crew neck. She’d somehow managed to cut it off, turning it into a scoop-necked proposition that showed her delicate collar bones. The bottom hem of the T-shirt cut across her thighs, revealing just a few inches of the tartan shorts.
New Brunswick’s colors had never looked so good.
“I don’t think that T-shirt looked like that when it went in there,” he drawled.
“Oh, right.” Her hand went to her chest, splaying to cover the bared skin, rosy from the shower. “I can’t stand a tight crew neck. It makes me feel like I’m choking. So I took my manicure scissors to it.”
He blinked. He knew that about her. Or he used to. She’d done that to the T-shirt he’d bought for her at that Tragically Hip concert they’d attended in Moncton during senior year. How had he forgotten that?
“Jace, I didn’t do it to try to sex it up. I just—”
“I know,” he said. “And I promise to be the perfect gentleman. I’ll even sleep here in this chair.” He resettled himself, showing her how easy it would be to get comfy in the thing. The chair groaned in protest.
“That chair?” she said, eyebrows soaring.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Because you need to elevate your ankle.”
He shrugged. “I’ll prop it up on the other chair.”
She shook her head. “Not happening. You take the bed. I’ll take the chair.”
There was no way in hell Jace was going to let her do that. “Also not happening. Ember, you just had a long, stressful drive, not to mention the stressful life-saving bit, and—”
The lights flickered warningly, interrupting the debate.
“Damn. I’d better hurry if I want that shower, huh?”
“Agreed.” Ember reached for his crutches and handed them to him as he stood.
As he crutched his way to the bathroom, she dug out her iPhone, plugged in some headphones, and lay down on the bed—on top of the covers. Clearly, sleeping arrangements weren’t settled yet.
In the bathroom, he peeled off his dry clothing. He sat on the edge of the tub while he unwrapped his ankle. Turning it sideways, he examined it. The bruising seemed to be a little deeper in color, but the swelling wasn’t too awful, especially considering the last few hours’ activity. It could be worse.
Reaching for his jeans, he dug out his cell phone. With Ember wearing headphones, now was as good a time as any to try to raise his brother. He hit the auto-dial button and waited.
Terry picked up on the fourth ring. Or rather a giggling female picked up for him and handed the phone over.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Jace.”
“’Lo, little bro.” Terry’s words were a little slurred. “Just enjoying Thanksgiving weekend here in tropical paradise.” As though to punctuate that statement, Jace heard the pop of a champagne cork, much to the obvious delight of Terry’s laughing companion.
“So I hear.”
“What’s up?” Terry asked. “Thought you were heading out to the old camp for another solo holiday pilgrimage sort of...thing.”
“I’m actually off to see a friend of yours tomorrow.”
“Oh? Who’s that?”
“Bridget Northrup.”
Silence.
“Remember her?” Jace prompted.
“Northrup,” Terry said, as though trying the name on his tongue for familiarity. “Bridgit Northrup...”
Jace clenched his jaw as Terry pretended to search his memory. “Yeah. I’m quite sure you two were an item back when I was in high school.”
“That far back?” Terry snorted. “Christ, man, no wonder I’m having trouble dredging her up. That’s ancient history.”
“Depends on how you’re measuring that time,” Jace said.
“Wait a sec—I think I do remember her. Skinny little thing. Loved to dance. She liked frogs or bats or something?”
“Spiders. She had a tattoo of one on her shoulder.”
“Right.” Jace heard the tink-tink of ice in a glass. From champagne to hard stuff. Terry only used ice when he poured himself a scotch. “What did you want to see her about?”
“I’m going to ask her what happened that night.”
“What night? You’ll need to be a little more specific. If it’s the Bridget I’m thinking of, then she and I had a few memorable nights. I remember this one time we drove down to Fredericton to party with some friends of hers. She was so—”
“You know damn well which night I’m talking about. My nineteenth birthday. The night I got so mysteriously hammered. The night my older brother—”
“Stepbrother,” Terry said, his voice acquiring a hard edge. “If we’re digging up ancient history, let’s at least be historically accurate.”
It was meant as a slap. One that Jace had first felt when they were kids, after his mother had married Wayne Picard. Even before Jace had officially taken on the Picard name, Wayne had treated him like a son. Equal to Terry—in expectations, discipline, privileges. And at least by all observations—affection. Terry had resented him for it, especially when they were younger. As hard as Wayne had tried to treat Jace like an integral part of the family, Terry strove always to make him feel like an intruder. Even though they were both adults now, Terry still played the bastard card when he wanted to be a real prick.
“Okay, then, let’s talk about the night my older stepbrother took me out for a couple drinks for my nineteenth birthday.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember that night, all right.” Terry laughed heartily. “You got hammered. Absolutely shit-faced. I tried to tell you to slow down—”
“Bullshit.”
“—but you just wouldn’t listen.”
“I could never remember that night.”
“Well, that’s what happens when a pussy who can’t handle his liquor drinks too much.” There was that nasty edge again.
“Why couldn’t I ever remember that night, Terry?”
“Simple. You got blackout-drunk.”
“That was the night I lost Ember.”
“Is that what this is about? Man, you never had her. Not if it was that easy for me to get into her pants.”
Every fiber in Jace’s body tightened. If he could crawl through his cell phone, he’d throw his brother through the wall of whatever fancy resort he was currently occupying. Make him pay for that remark.
And for a few other things.
“Look, Jace, she wasn’t even that good. Too smart for her own good, for anybody’s good. Really, nothing special in the sack. She wasn’t worth it back then, and you better not be thinking she’s worth it now. Not now, of all times. Don’t be an idiot.”
The land.
Jace could almost see the light bulb going off above Terry’s head as he connected the dots, Bridget-to-Ember. That’s what he was worried over. Just that fucking Standish land closing on Tuesday.
Jace’s hand tightened on the pho
ne. “You are a complete bastard, you know that?”
“Hey, I’m not the bastard here,” Terry said. “I’m the real deal. The real Picard. Talk to Bridget all you want; lament over that nothing-special piece of ass. It changes nothing. As of Tuesday, WRP Holdings will own the Standish land. With the Brooks property on one side and the Dickinson lot on the other, we’ll finally have that nice stretch of land we need. The political wheels have been greased. They’ll do their little environmental impact study, and we’ll get the green light.”
“Doesn’t it bother you, what you’re planning?”
“You’re the one who brokered the deal, bro.”
“You put me in charge of acquisitions, bro.”
“Hey, don’t pretend you’ve grown a conscience, Jace. You jumped all over it when Titus Standish put out that feeler. You know as well as I do what this’ll mean for WRP’s bottom line.”
“No matter that it wasn’t what the old man wanted for the company?”
“Hey, I’m the old man now.”
Unbelievable. He said it like he was declaring himself the freakin’ godfather. “Got it all figured out, do you, Terry.”
“Damn right I do. And you should be thanking me for letting you handle the deal. A gift on a silver platter, if I ever saw one. You get to dish out some payback to that red-haired witch you had such a hard on for. Soon Harkness will be rid of those Standishs. Scattered to the winds, and you’ll never have to see that little whore again.”
It took every ounce of his self-control not to crush his phone in his hand. To stop himself from grabbing the keys to the rental, driving to the closest airport and going after that piece of shit brother of his in his tropical hideaway. But for now, all he could do was deliver a message. “If you ever call her that again, I’ll knock those pretty white teeth of yours down your throat.”
Silence.
Seconds later, Terry chuckled, darkly. “I’d be careful who I threatened, if I were you.”
“Yeah, well, if I were you, I’d be careful of a whole lot of things.”
“What’s that supposed to—”
Jace hung up on him, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t a violent man. He worked his aggression out in the gym. Saved it for the punching bag. But he’d gladly have kicked Terry’s ass if he were here.