by Caro Carson
He looked a little amused, but he let go of the door to shake her hand. “Lieutenant Caden Sterling. I go by Lieutenant, Caden or Sterling. Take your pick. I saw your name on the roster. No first-aid training. Just the CPR?”
“I renewed my first-aid cert in June at—at my old job. In Houston. I’m here now.” Text me back, Jerry. “I mean, I’m here at Masterson now as a coach, not that I’m here at your class now, although I guess I’m that, too.”
Stop for a breath, already. She was still holding the fireman’s hand. Her cheeks were warm, as if the heat from his palm had transferred to hers and rushed upward to make her blush.
She let go. “Sorry. I’m distracted. I’m waiting on an important call. I hate to disrupt your class, but it’s critical that I take it. I’ll slip out quietly. I promise you, I’ve been certified in CPR so many times, I’ll be able to pass the test, even if I miss your instructions.”
He was listening to her as attentively as he’d been listening to Granny Dee, looking directly at her, as if she were saying something that mattered.
She tried to return that respect. “If you’ll let me take the test, that is. I understand if you don’t want to pass someone who didn’t participate in the entire class. I don’t really have a choice about the phone call, but if you’d rather me not take the class tonight, that’s your right.”
“You have to do what you have to do, Coach. Take the call. We’ll work it out.”
“Thank you. Really.” She dropped her gaze from his ocean-blue eyes as another wave of dizziness threatened to pull her under. She brushed past him to find the nearest chair in the classroom and dropped onto the hard plastic seat. At the next break, she was going to get some money out of her van and get something to eat out of the vending machine and choke it down, nausea be damned. She looked at her shaky phone screen. Nothing.
She managed to pay attention to the fireman’s CPR introduction for an entire minute before she peeked at her phone screen again. This time, Jerry had answered.
I’ll send you an address once I’m settled. Write me about your important thing. It will be the best way for me to focus on your problem. Today is my day to focus on the logistics of my journey.
Tana’s head swam.
Another text came in: As you already knew.
“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” The fireman asked the questions loudly, urgently.
Tana looked up, but he was speaking to the CPR dummy, the mannequin upon which they would all practice and then be tested. Students would have to try to rouse the dummy as if it were a person they’d found unconscious. The fireman was demonstrating the proper steps by shaking the mannequin’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he repeated.
No, I’m not.
But she was no mute mannequin, and she didn’t have time to play along with Jerry’s elaborate designs for how and when he could best focus on her problem. He’d best communicate with her now.
“When there’s no answer,” the fireman said, “call for help.”
Tana hit the call button next to Jerry’s name as she slipped out the door.
Chapter Two
There went Montana McKenna.
True to her word, she left silently, managing to close the door behind herself without so much as a snick.
With a name like Montana, Caden had been expecting not only a man, but one of the ubiquitous cowboys who lived and worked here in Central Texas. A man like himself, a man who felt most comfortable in jeans and cowboy boots when he wasn’t on the job.
Montana McKenna was not a man.
Caden Sterling could not be happier about that.
He’d heard people talking about hitting the Tipsy Musketeer after this class was over. He’d glanced over to see three of the women from the first-aid class, plus someone new, standing with her back to Caden. She was fairly tall and wore modest khaki shorts that revealed her legs—long legs, toned legs, legs for days. Just about the finest pair of legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Then she’d turned around.
One look at her face—brown-eyed, beautiful, serious—and he’d known he needed to get her name.
When she’d headed toward his classroom, he’d realized he already knew her name. She was the extra person on his CPR roster, the unknown Montana. He’d learned more interesting things, too, as she’d shaken his hand. A coach, she’d said. But which sport? She was tall, but not basketball tall. Maybe volleyball. Golf. Soccer, with those legs? He looked forward to finding out over a Guinness after class.
“What’s next?” Caden asked the class. “This is a total stranger lying in front of you, not responding. They can’t tell you what happened.”
The suggestions came quickly. “Should you look for a medic alert bracelet?”
“Check their wallet for their ID?”
“Check their phone and see if they put their own contact info in it?”
Caden was glad they were so actively participating, but it was his job to teach them the right priorities. “Does it matter what their name is?”
The beat of silence was broken by the only man wearing a suit and tie. He’d informed the class that he was a law professor, and so far, he’d been a know-it-all, lecturing the class whenever he could. “Proceeding without knowing their wishes could result in punitive legal action.”
Like now.
Caden corrected him. “This isn’t a patient in a nursing home or hospital bed where you’d expect his resuscitation wishes to be known. This is a stranger you found unconscious, here on campus. You are a bystander doing your best to help. Good Samaritan laws protect you from being sued.”
Those laws didn’t protect Caden. He was both a paramedic and firefighter. Legally, he had a duty to act—as if he’d ever need a legal reason to help somebody who was helpless—and to act with the skill expected of someone with his experience and credentials.
He turned back to the room at large. “You’ve tried to get a response from him, but you got nothing. You don’t know what happened. You don’t know who he is. But the most important thing that matters is whether or not he’s breathing. It’s the only thing that matters.”
“But what if they have diabetes or something?” Ruby asked. “Or they overdosed on a drug?”
“They need oxygen no matter what their blood sugar is. They need oxygen no matter what drugs are in their system. If they don’t have oxygen, they die, and it won’t matter what their medical history is.”
The class was silent. Somber. This was good. It meant they were listening to him, really listening, so if they were ever under the intense pressure of being faced with an unresponsive human being, they’d remember that oxygen was their primary goal.
Caden had his own personal goal, which was to motivate people to jump in and help, not to scare them, so he smiled. “Fortunately, as you look at this person, you are breathing. You’re going to be able to get this person the oxygen they need, because you are going to be an expert by the time you leave my class. So, step one, try to rouse the person. Step two, check to see if they’re breathing.”
Caden demonstrated how to do so, then how to give the first two lifesaving breaths. Then he stood back as each person practiced. The smell of alcohol wipes was strong in the air as the dummy’s mouth was wiped clean between students.
The classroom door remained closed as they moved on to chest compressions. Coach McKenna was missing this chance to practice, but she’d been so confident in her ability to pass the test that Caden doubted she needed it. Ruby, the friend who’d told her to invite him to the pub, stepped up to the dummy.
“Are you okay?” Ruby enjoyed her role, shaking the dummy. “Yo! Buddy! Are you okay?”
It hardly mattered whether or not her friends convinced Montana to ask Caden to go to the pub. The Tipsy Musketeer was a good hangout for the adults of Masterson. It never sold cheap beer by the bucket, and it was known f
or checking IDs, which meant it was one of the few places in this college town that was not overrun with students. Caden and his crew often met there for a little R & R when they were off the clock. He’d show up there tonight and strike up a conversation with her naturally enough. Better yet...
He leafed through the certificates, found Montana’s and slipped it to the bottom of the stack. She’d be the last to leave that way, and with his last professional obligation fulfilled, he’d beat her to it and ask her if she’d like to grab a bite at the Tipsy Musketeer.
She was distracted by a business call at the moment, but he had no doubt she’d be worth getting to know. She was well liked by a group of likable women. She had confidence—I’ll be able to pass the CPR test—an interesting career, a warm handshake—
And legs that went on for days.
Yeah, if things went the way Caden hoped they would, tonight would only be the first of many evenings spent with a woman named Montana.
* * *
Jerry wasn’t answering.
Tana refused to try him a third time. She resorted to texting once more. If I say it’s urgent, it’s urgent. Answer the phone.
She counted to ten, took a deep breath—and took a seat on the concrete bench near the door, because her legs felt like jelly. She dialed Jerry again.
He answered. “Tana, enough. This is getting to the point of being harassing. I can call you in a couple of hours, when I’m in the taxi on the way to the airport. I’ll have twenty minutes then.”
“This is important. I got a call from a doctor’s office just, I don’t know, just fifteen minutes ago.” But any further words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. This was it, ready or not—and she was not.
“You know I’ve set a strict schedule for myself. Wait a couple of hours. Precisely two. I’ll give you what advice I can on the way to the airport.”
“No.” The word exploded past the constriction in her throat, and with it, a certain fury came pouring out, as well. “You do not get to live your life all calm and oblivious for the next two hours while I’m freaking out.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, Jerry spoke again, and annoyance had turned to a sneer. “How much more dramatic is this going to get?”
Tana knew the exact facial expression that went with that tone, the way he rolled his eyes in impatience when he believed he was going to be imposed upon by somebody.
Ready or not...
“Jerry, I’m pregnant.”
At his silence, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the brick building.
“You’re certain?” Jerry finally asked. “Those grocery store tests can’t be infallible. People misread the results, or they do them wrong.”
“This was a blood test, done by a laboratory. I didn’t pee on a stick incorrectly.” Her words lacked any bite. She was slumping against an unfamiliar building in an unfamiliar town. She didn’t feel angry. She felt lonely.
She shouldn’t feel lonely. There were two of them involved in this, two reasonably intelligent adults who would work things out together. “I’m sure you’re overwhelmed at the moment. I’ve known for fifteen minutes longer than you have, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. What are we going to do?”
He hesitated briefly. “There’s nothing for me to do. This pregnancy will proceed with or without me.”
“But—but this is your child. The father cuts the umbilical cord in the delivery room and—and other things.” She thought of other people’s pregnancies, the things that coworkers, male and female, were usually excited about. “Things like hearing the heartbeat, right? You’ll be there for the sonogram. I guess we’ll need to decide if we want to learn the gender early or not. We’ll need to decide—”
“You’ll decide. You’re the one who is pregnant, not me. If you are pregnant.”
“If?” She was truly baffled, as if Jerry had turned into some kind of alien species who didn’t understand the way the world worked. “Do you think I would make up something like this?”
He sighed the sigh of a man who believed he shouldn’t have to explain himself. “You might, if you thought it would prevent me from going to Peru. It won’t work. I need this year to myself. It’s important.”
“You know what else is important? The woman who is pregnant with your baby. She’s important.” Tana supposed she sounded brave, but she was sitting on a concrete bench with her eyes closed.
“She’s also very self-sufficient.” Had Jerry always had this mocking undertone in his voice? “She’s healthy. She has a good job.”
“For this season only. What if I lose that job?”
What if I let down the forty-two kids I’m supposed to coach? Her team included two swimmers who were Olympic hopefuls. Her former Team USA coach had recommended her for this position because he thought she’d be able to mentor them through the pressure. Why he thought she could advise them, she didn’t know, given the way she’d caved under pressure ten years ago, but she wanted to prove his faith in her wasn’t misplaced.
“They can’t fire you for being pregnant.”
“They also don’t have to renew my contract at the end of the season if I don’t perform well as a coach. I can’t remember seeing a pregnant female coach at the NCAA finals. I don’t know if it’s doable or not.”
“You’re hardly a helpless damsel in distress, Tana. This is beneath you, to beg for reassurance about your abilities.”
“I don’t need reassurance.” But as soon as she said it, she knew that was exactly what she needed, yet Jerry sounded so remote. “We really should be talking in person. I could head your way now. I’ll be there in three hours—”
“I’ll already be through airport security. My flight leaves in four hours. I’ll be on it.”
“But—”
“Think, Tana. I can’t not go at this point. The research center is expecting me. The plane ticket is nonrefundable. It would be a waste of the research grant.”
Was he an alien or was he speaking logically? To be fair, he was being logical. She could be, too.
“All right, go. But that research assignment is for three months. You were going to freestyle your way around South America after that. You could come home instead. I’ll be four or five months along. We’ll have time to...time to... I don’t even know what. So much is going to change. So much has to be decided.”
“Look, Tana, assuming the paternity test works out the way you want it to, I won’t fight you if you take me to court for child support. It’s only money. If you want to take it from me, then go for it. But this is my time. My year. It’s priceless. It’s what I need. You can’t take this away from me. I won’t allow it.”
“Paternity test? You can’t think there’s a chance this baby isn’t yours.” The world swam behind her closed eyelids. She was going to throw up. “How could you say that to me?”
“Stop with the drama. You win. I’ll assume the baby is mine, although we’ve lived apart for six weeks, haven’t we?”
“But—I assumed we—Have you been sleeping with other people?”
“I’m willing to assume this was an accidental pregnancy, and this phone call was not intentionally timed so that you’d think I’d be required to make some dramatic gesture like rushing from the airport to your side.”
“I didn’t expect that.” She could hardly follow his logic. He really was an alien.
He laughed. He laughed at her. “You forced me to watch enough chick flicks this past year. I know what you expect.”
I expect to fail.
So far in her life, she’d failed her parents, failed the Olympic team, failed the whole damned USA. This was no different. Failing was what she did.
She thunked the back of her head against the building. With her eyes closed, her entire future came into focus.
The NCAA finals were
in March. She’d be unable to coach her team through them. Unable to prove her talent hadn’t been wasted. Unable to justify her coach’s faith in her. He’d taken a second chance on her by recommending her for this position, and she was destined to let him down again.
I’m sorry, Mom. Dad. I tried. I almost got it right this time. Almost.
She opened her eyes and was blinded by the setting sun. She blinked and lowered her gaze to the cars in the parking lot. Sunspots blotted her vision, but she could see everything now, all the things about Jerry that every person in her life, from her parents to her old coworkers to her new friend Ruby, had seen. Jerry would never alter his life for her in any way, for any reason. He’d never alter his life for anyone, not even his own child.
She was shocked. She was the only person in the world who was shocked.
Jerry continued outlining all the assumptions he was willing to make about her, but his voice was just a dull pounding in Tana’s ear. She stared at her well-used van. It wasn’t sexy or sporty, but its rows of extra seats held swimmers who needed rides to practices and meets, year after year, from city to city. There was a bucket in the back, full of the goggles and flip-flops that got left behind by some swimmers and used by others. So much history. There it was, parked neatly in the row with the other cars that also had faculty parking stickers on their windshields.
And here she was, part of the Masterson University faculty. For now, this was her life, and while the facade she’d built around Jerry had just collapsed, her life hadn’t. Not yet. But in nine months’ time...
She couldn’t think nine months into the future. She had a job to do, a job she wanted to do. That job required her to renew her CPR certification. Right now.
She stood. As Jerry continued his monologue about everything that mattered to him, she went inside and walked past the vending machines. She had her hand on the doorknob as Jerry hung up on her. She walked into the classroom and returned a handsome fireman’s smile.