by Keli Gwyn
As Caleb manned the pump in the kitchen, the truck rattled out of the drive once more. Joshua might be prickly and defensive, but he was a young man who could be counted upon in an emergency. What would he have done today without the Hualgas? Balancing a stack of towels in one hand and the bucket of water in the other, he limped down the hall.
She took the towels and bucket and pushed him into the chair beside the bed. “Here.” He found himself clutching the newspaper. Did she expect him to read it?
Rolling her eyes, she folded it in half. “Fan.” She moved the air over Meghan’s face, and then dipped a cloth in water to moisten her skin. “Water, then fan.”
Natalie raised her head from the pillow, but Mrs. Hualga pressed her small, brown hand against Natalie’s shoulder.
“Lie still.” She bustled out and returned with a drinking glass. Ice clinked, water poured. “Drink.”
Caleb dipped the edge of a towel in the bucket of water at his feet and trickled it over Meghan’s arm. Mrs. Hualga took a section of the newspaper and began fanning Natalie.
After an eternity, a groan escaped Meghan’s cracked lips, and she stirred. “My head.”
“Shhh.” He clasped her fingers and gently pressed them into the mattress. “You have to be still.”
Her lashes fluttered, and confused, pained green eyes appeared. “Caleb?” She blinked, squinting. “Where am I?”
“You’re at my house. Your car broke down in the desert.”
She stiffened. “Natalie?”
“Easy. She’s right beside you. Joshua’s gone for the doctor.”
Mrs. Hualga nudged his elbow. “Make her drink.” She held out a glass of water. “All of it. Then more, but slow.”
He pressed the glass to Meghan’s lips, letting sips of water trickle inside her mouth. Slowly, aware of her headache, he eased wet strands of hair off her cheek and temple. On the far side of the bed, Mrs. Hualga tucked a towel-wrapped bundle of ice behind Natalie’s neck. She quickly fashioned two more bundles and slipped them under Natalie’s arms.
“Here, like that.” Thrusting a bundle at Caleb, she pointed to Meghan’s neck and arms. “Keep fanning.”
The color subsided from Natalie’s face and returned to Meghan’s over the next half-hour. Pulses slowed, breathing became more regular, and the knots in Caleb’s muscles began to relax. Perhaps they were out of danger.
Meghan didn’t mention Lars again. In fact, she said nothing, just lay on the bed, drinking when told and not opening her eyes.
Footsteps clomped on the front porch, and Doc Bates came into the bedroom. “What have you girls been doing to yourselves?” He adjusted his glasses and set his medical bag on the edge of the bed. Opening the bag, he rummaged, making glass clink. Gripping his thermometer, he rounded the footboard and went to Natalie, his brow wrinkled. “Open.”
Resentment jabbed his ribs that the doc would automatically go first to Natalie.
“Doc, it’s Meghan who was passed out. Don’t you think you should check her first?”
Meghan clasped his hand. “Don’t. I’m all right.”
He leaned close to her ear. “But you were worse off than Natalie was. Your temperature threatened to blow the end of the thermometer right off.”
“But then you helped me.” Her voice still sounded too weak and slow for his liking. Meghan was a firebrand, a crusader, and righter of wrongs. She was full of life and movement and color. To see her so still and unresponsive had jarred him more than he’d realized. Her fingers entwined with his as her eyes closed.
Doc read the thermometer, shook it down, and stuck it back in Natalie’s mouth. “Joshua should be here soon. I came in my own car, and I believe he was going to stop at the hotel. Caleb, step outside so I can do a thorough examination of both these young ladies.” Doc took his stethoscope from his bag. He looped it around his neck and lifted Natalie’s wrist to check her pulse. “I think, thanks to the good nursing they received from Mrs. Hualga, that they’re both going to be just fine.”
Caleb leaned against the hallway wall, as drained as a leaky bucket.
Joshua joined him there. “I stopped by the hotel on the way out of town. That French chef fellow sent a block of ice, and Mr. Stock said not to rush back. Make sure the ladies are going to be fine first.”
“What did Mrs. Gregory say?”
“I didn’t see her, thankfully.”
“Probably just as well. What did you do with the ice?”
“Stuck it in the icebox.”
“Great. Let’s bust it up and make some more cold packs in case Doc needs them. And I could use a cold drink. How about you?” He clapped Joshua on the shoulder and followed him to the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, Doc and Mrs. Hualga joined them. “Ah, iced tea, just what I need.” Doc rubbed his hands together.
Caleb poured. “What’s the verdict?”
“They’ll be back to their old selves in no time. For now, they need rest, fluids, and no more gallivanting around the desert in the middle of a summer afternoon. What on earth were they doing out there?”
“It’s that ridiculous quilt.” Caleb rubbed his fingers down his glass. “They were looking for donations for a signature quilt Meghan’s making to raise funds for the war effort.”
Doc pursed his lips. “A worthy cause, though I’d think they’d be more sensible about their timing. Not even a Gila monster would stir in this heat.”
“It might be a worthy cause, but if they’d have died out there in the desert—” He broke off. Now that they were out of danger, the enormity of their folly smote him. Someone needed to explain to them, to Meghan in particular, how stupid they’d been.
Meghan dozed and woke, dozed and woke over the next couple of hours. Doc checked on her, as did Mrs. Hualga, dousing her skin with water, forcing her to drink, taking her temperature. Natalie lay beside her, sleeping peacefully. If only Meghan could drift into a deep slumber and forget the pounding in her head. She ran all the metaphors for headache she could think of through her mind, but none seemed adequate to describe the pain in her skull. At last, some strength returned, and she forced herself to sit up and reach for her dress draped on the foot of the bed.
“You should lie still.” Natalie rolled over and sat up slowly.
“So should you.” Fumbling with the buttons, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “My head is killing me, and lying there thinking about it isn’t helping.” Nor was thinking about how little she’d accomplished in the way of procuring donations and signatures for her quilt. The one thousand-dollar goal seemed further away than ever.
“We should be thankful God sent Caleb McBride to rescue us. You could’ve died out there.”
“We both could’ve.” Meghan didn’t know how she felt about Caleb’s rescue. Part of her got all warm and swimmy thinking of him bearing her away on his horse—if Natalie’s recounting could be believed—like some gallant, brave knight of old. Another part of her cringed and skittered about. After what she’d witnessed in town with him refusing to stand up for himself, to give an accounting of why he hadn’t enlisted, she couldn’t help but be disgusted. How could a man be so brave and yet cowardly at the same time?
A tap sounded on the door, and Natalie finished buttoning up her blouse before opening it. Caleb stood in the doorway, his weight shifted on one leg as it often was. Meghan’s stomach muscles tightened, and she looked away.
“Are you sure you two should be up?” He stepped inside, his boots rasping unevenly on the floor.
Natalie balled up the sheets they’d been wrapped in and gathered soggy towels. “I’m fine, but I think Meghan should stay in bed.”
“We should get back to town. Mrs. Gregory will be having a fit already. And Mr. Stock must be wondering where his car is.”
Caleb took the bedclothes from Natalie and dumped them into a basket beside the dresser. “Don’t worry about these. I’ll tend to them. There’s iced tea in the kitchen. Do you want me to bring you some?”
“No, I’d like to go out and say thank you to the doctor and to that young man who came to get me out on the road. What is his name?”
“Joshua. Joshua Hualga.”
Natalie disappeared, and Meghan became acutely aware that she and Caleb were alone in his bedroom. She bent and picked up her shoe, her head throbbing and a bit of dizziness swirling at her temples.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about rushing back to town. Joshua told Mr. Stock where you were when he fetched Doc out here. As for the car, Joshua and I will drive out there and refill the radiator once the sun goes down, and we’ll see that it gets back to the hotel.”
She nodded, her insides swooping. “Natalie tells me you came to my rescue again. Thank you. That’s twice you’ve saved my life.”
Shrugging, he leaned against the dresser. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Thanks to you and Joshua’s mother.” Weakness flowed through her arms, and her shoe weighed a ton. She forced herself to tug it on and planted her foot on the floor to work her toes all the way inside.
“It was a close-run thing. You were babbling and passing out. You scared about ten years off my life.”
She’d scared herself. “I’m sorry. The car overheated, and I guess we did, too.”
He rubbed his palm against the back of his neck. “What were you doing out there in the first place? You could’ve been killed.”
“I know. Good thing you came along. We were near to roasting.” She tried to keep her tone light, to push away the fear of nearly dying. “It’s hot enough to bake a lizard.”
His brows slanted downward, and his mouth hardened. “This is no joking matter. As much trouble as you are always in, you need a full-time keeper.”
Jamming her foot into her other shoe, she straightened. “I do not.” She pressed her fingertips to her temple, regretting her loud tone.
“Yes, you do. You’re always leaping before you look, expecting others to pull you out of your troubles and save your neck. When are you going to grow up and realize the world is a dangerous place?”
“I’ve said I’m sorry. What more do you want?”
He crossed the room and grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her up and giving her a shake that, while not rough, awakened a new wave of agony in her head. “I want you to promise me you’ll never be so foolish again. I want you to stop taking risks. You’re so busy tilting at windmills and charging fortifications, you don’t stop to think of the danger you put yourself in. And this time it wasn’t just you. You could’ve killed Natalie, too, and what for? For a blanket? Because you want to get in good with the Red Cross and Mrs. Gregory and make a big name for yourself by raising a thousand dollars, you’re willing to put yourself and your friend in jeopardy.”
Stung by his harsh tone, she spit back. “How dare you speak to me about taking risks? At least I’m not afraid. You won’t enlist. You won’t even speak up for yourself when someone calls you a coward. You just stand there and take it.”
Anger sparked in his eyes, and something else, pain, a deep hurt that had her regretting her harsh words even as they flew from her lips. That is, until he spoke again, wounding her, accusing her.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You rarely do. Instead of getting the facts, you jump to conclusions and leap into the fray. My reasons for not enlisting are my own. I’m entitled to my secrets, just as you are yours. You’ve kept things from me.”
“What secrets have I kept from you?” Surely he wasn’t talking about Natalie’s marriage. He couldn’t know about that, and why would he care if he did?
“What about Lars?” He curled his lip.
Meghan blinked. “What about him?”
“You said you loved him.”
“Of course I love him.” She bunched her forehead. “Are you sure you aren’t the one who had too much sun?” When had she talked to Caleb about Lars? As a rule she didn’t say much about him, but she didn’t exactly make a secret of having a brother “over there.”
“And I bet he’s a soldier.”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “He is. He enlisted right away. While I long for him to come home, and I’m afraid for his safety, I’m so proud of him, of his courage, I could burst. He’s the reason I’m raising the money for the ambulance. And I don’t care what it costs me. If he can be brave and sacrifice, so can I. He’s a real man who knows his obligation to his country and those he loves. He’d never shirk his duty. He’s no coward.”
“Like me, you mean. Why don’t you come out and say it? A man like me would never be worthy of a girl like you.” A look of tortured anguish twisted Caleb’s face, so near her own. His fingers tightened on her arms, and as if he couldn’t help himself, his lips came down and claimed hers, hard and insistent, as if his frustration had finally outpaced his normal, tight control.
She forgot about her headache. She forgot about being angry. She forgot about everything. The kiss started out fierce and angry, but in a split-second it changed to something else altogether. His lips were wonderfully warm, his skin raspy as his whiskers brushed against her cheek. He smelled of sunshine and horses and hot desert air. Her hands crept up his shirtfront and edged around his neck. His hands spanned her waist as if to steady himself, and then found their way around her, bringing her tight up against him.
This is wrong. This can’t be happening. Stop it! Like a scream, the thoughts echoed in her head.
Balling her fists, she shoved against him, breaking the kiss.
Immediately he pulled away, letting go of her waist and stepping back. His chest heaved, and his eyes glowed hot.
Her own breath came in gasps, and hot shame swirled in her ears and up her cheeks. What kind of woman was she to allow a man who insulted her one moment to kiss her senseless the next? “How dare you? You want me to say right out what I think? All right, I will. Caleb McBride, you disgust me. You avoid going to war when every able-bodied man in the country is answering the call. You hide out here on this barren spit of land training horses to go into battle. Horses that will show more courage in one day of wartime service than you will your whole life. And you take money from the same government you are afraid to fight for. It’s despicable. You, sir, are a coward, and I wish I had a whole fistful of white feathers, because you would deserve them all.” Her hand rose and smacked his cheekbone. “Don’t ever come near me again.”
Cupping his offended cheek he stepped back another pace, stumbling and knocking his shoulder against the doorjamb. His face had gone white under his tan, and a bleak, cold remoteness had replaced the heat in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t. A person can only take so much sanctimonious claptrap, and I get enough from Mrs. Gregory and the rest of this two-bit town. When you get back to Needles, be sure to congratulate your head waitress. She’ll be so proud to know you’ve turned out just like her.”
He left her, and she sagged back onto the bed, holding her face in her hands. Her head threatened to split in two. And why shouldn’t it? Her heart was already shattered.
Caleb avoided the kitchen and headed to the back porch. What had he been thinking? His cheek stung from the impact of her hand, and his pride stung from the acidic accusations she’d hurled at him. In spite of all his warnings to himself, he’d allowed himself to spin dreams about Meghan Thorson, about how she would be different from every other woman he’d ever met. About how she might be the one to heal those broken places in his heart and love him in spite of his faults and flaws, his infirmities and insecurities. About how together they could be the family he’d always longed for. And he’d allowed those dreams to override his common sense to the point that he’d actually kissed her. Not just a peck either.
His chest still lurched in breaths of hot summer air, and weakness raced along his limbs. For an instant, for a suspended moment in time, everything had been perfect. Anger had fallen away. They’d stopped being adversaries and melded together in a giving and taking that had started a firestorm of longing rag
ing in his heart and opened realms of possibilities he’d only dreamed of before.
But it had all come crashing down, as it always did when he dared to risk his heart.
She hated him. She thought him a coward. She was so enamored of soldiers and the Red Cross and her cause, she would never see him as anything but a yellow dog.
Not to mention this Lars fellow, whom she admitted outright that she loved. Lars the brave soldier who had enlisted the moment the call went out. Who was probably at this very moment covering himself with glory on a European battlefield.
He leaned against the weathered siding and smashed his heel backward into the gray boards. Pain shot up his leg, but he didn’t care, bashing his foot into the wall again and again. He gripped handfuls of hair, gulping in breaths and striving for some semblance of control.
Why? Why, God? Why did You destine me to be a cripple? Why can’t I be whole so I can prove I’m no coward? Why can’t I be a real man and win the love of a woman? Why won’t You let me be worthy?
Sinking to the porch floor, he rested his crossed arms on his good knee and let his useless foot sprawl on the boards, pressing his forehead into his wrists. He never should’ve kissed her, and yet, he hadn’t been able to resist the need to claim her, if only for a moment. And though he might regret a lot of things in his life, he knew he’d never regret giving in to that overwhelming impulse. It changed everything, and yet it changed nothing.
She loathed him. And who could blame her? He loathed himself.
Chapter 12
Miss Thorson, nicely done with table seven. The customers were demanding, but you’ve managed to satisfy them all very well.” Mrs. Gregory stopped beside Meghan clutching her ever-present clipboard. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally settled into your job.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gregory.” Meghan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. From the moment she’d arrived in Needles, she’d longed for any kind word of approval from the head waitress. Now that she’d gotten it, it seemed a hollow victory indeed.