by Julie Miller
“Just visiting. Helping out a friend. I’m Nate Kellison.”
“Deacon Tate.” Deacon shook his hand without hesitation. Nate had even used the proper pronunciation for Brahma—rhymed with tamer. Right away the old cowboy had recognized and respected Nate’s expertise.
Jolene was a little slower to come around.
“You know about cattle?” she asked, grabbing the scissors to trim away the remnants of Deacon’s sleeve.
“I know about a lot of things.”
Like surfing and Tinseltown and overcrowded highways. Right?
“You’ve been on a ranch before?”
“Yeah.”
Water splashed her cheek as he knelt down beside her. His tiny grunt gave the only indication of the strain the position must be putting on his knee. He took the scissors from her hand and tossed the soiled, bloody cloth into the bed of the truck, hurrying along her work. There was more to that yeah than Jolene could fathom right now. More to Nate Kellison than she’d given him credit for—more than she’d wanted to give him credit for.
“Isn’t it about time for you to get into the truck?” he asked.
“Huh?” She stopped staring at his stern profile and pulled a sling from the kit.
Nate took the sling from her and urged her to move. “You’ve done a fine job so far. But the rain’s picking up.”
Fortunately she was still graceful enough to stand up on her own. “It’ll go faster if we work together, won’t it?”
With a reluctant nod, Nate turned his attention to the broken arm. Though she lacked the shoulders to form as effective a barrier as he had, Jolene situated herself behind him and blocked the rain as much as possible.
“This is just a temporary splint on your arm,” Nate told Deacon. “We’ll hold off until we can get some X rays before wrapping you up in something more permanent.”
The sure efficiency of Nate’s strong hands was an amazing thing to watch, Jolene conceded. He had Deacon cinched up and her imagination thinking about back-rubs and foot massages in no time.
“Anything else hurt, sir?” Nate asked.
Deacon set his hat in place and shook his head, rising to his feet. “It’s Deacon, son. I gotta get back and check on Buck, make sure he’s in one piece. Oughta check on Miz Browning and the boys, too.”
“That’s where we’re headed. Give you a lift?”
“Looks like you’re full-up already.”
Cindy knocked on the window before rolling it down. “I can sit on Wes’s lap,” she offered.
“Who’s the Ken and Barbie?” Deacon asked.
“We’re collecting strays,” Jolene explained, backing out of Nate’s way as he repacked the med-kit. “C’mon. We’ll find room. We need to get a move on, though. Lily’s in labor.”
“Well, hell’s bells, girl, why didn’t you say so? I suppose, since you’re comin’ to us, there’s no way to get her to the hospital.”
“Hurricane Damon turned south and is heading right for us. I’m afraid the town already has more evacuees than it can handle, especially without Doc Holland around.” She nodded toward Nate. “So Dad sent the cavalry to help out.”
“Then what are we sittin’ around yappin’ about it for?” Fired up with a new purpose, Deacon followed Nate to the bed of the truck and climbed in while the tailgate was down. “That doggone bull can find his own way home through the storm, if he’s a mind to. Let’s go.”
Jolene slipped in behind the wheel and restarted the engine.
Across the barrier of blankets and newlyweds separating them, Nate got in and didn’t say a word about the number of stray puppies she was collecting today.
And the rain poured down.
A CRY OF BONE-DEEP PAIN echoed throughout the two-story house, momentarily drowning out the rhythmic drumbeat of the rain slapping against the windows now that the wind had picked up. Lily Browning’s sob ripped right to the heart of Nate’s soul.
Nate splashed cold water on his face and tried to feel anything but halfway useless and way too late.
The twenty-minute trip from Turning Point had taken over two hours. Now, two more hours since their arrival, Lily Browning had dilated to ten centimeters and was burning with the need to push. Cindy Mathis had turned out to be a primo baby-sitter for Lily’s three sons, while her new husband, Wes, had willingly gone outside to supply the muscle Deacon needed to secure the barn and nail plywood scraps over the first floor windows of the two-story ranch house.
Jolene had been a rock of support for her friend, holding Lily’s hand and breathing with her to help her endure the pain, explaining in succinct detail every step Nate had taken to monitor the baby’s progress and prep Lily for delivery.
But something was wrong.
Something was very wrong, and there was no doctor or ambulance to call. There was only Nate. But instead of taking charge and sticking to the rescue routine that had been instilled in him from day one of his paramedic training, Nate felt paralyzed, the image of a dead baby on the side of a California highway frozen in his mind. His ears heard nothing but the sound of an injured mother’s distressed cries as she screamed her child’s name. His body had numbed to everything but the gut-sick feeling of knowing he hadn’t been quick enough, skilled enough, gifted enough to save that baby’s life.
Knowing he was no good to Lily or her baby until he could get his head screwed on right, Nate had excused himself and gone into the bathroom for a few minutes, leaving Lily in Jolene’s surprisingly capable hands. He’d headed downstairs instead of using the bath off Lily’s bedroom because he needed the time. Time and distance and space to catch a deep breath and suppress all those debilitating images again.
He rubbed his hand across his cheeks and jaw now, studying his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He barely recognized the man staring back at him.
The eyes were the same, maybe a little bleary after flying the red-eye and surviving his busy morning. The features were the same, if a tad on the scruffy side, since his last shave had been yesterday morning.
But the light was gone. The spark of confidence he’d once worn like his silver championship belt buckle had dulled beneath the weight of responsibility and guilt and regret.
He couldn’t get it right anymore. He couldn’t save lives. He’d always be a step behind, a minute too late.
He hadn’t stopped Jolene from nearly wrecking her truck. He’d barely managed to get her to eat anything other than the cheese and crackers from her purse. And he knew the only way he’d get her to take a break and get some rest herself would be to physically carry her out of Lily’s room and stand watch over her.
But judging by the itchy need that tickled his palms just thinking about the possibility, Nate had a pretty good idea that touching Jolene Kannon-Angel again would be a bad idea if he wanted to maintain a professional distance. Something about her stubborn ways fired him up. Something about those blue eyes and soft skin stirred an ache in his body. Something about her ultrafeminine shape and dazzling smile wakened him to possibilities he’d never imagined before.
But a man who was a step behind and a minute late, snared in the mistakes of his past, had no business imagining anything beyond getting his job done right.
Shutting off the water, Nate blinked and looked a little harder at his reflection. “You can do this,” he lectured himself. He’d delivered babies before, survived plenty of disasters—natural and man-made. “You have to do this.”
With a deep breath, he pushed aside fears and aches and wants and needs, and planted himself firmly in the moment at hand. Nate opened the door and headed for the stairs, leaving his emotions behind.
Lightning flashed, momentarily flooding the entry-way with brilliant white light, before disappearing again into the haze of the storm-shrouded afternoon. Thunder boomed a second later, rattling the windows and masking Lily’s sob from the floor above.
“Jolene, this isn’t right. She’s coming. I can feel…ohhhh!”
“Shh.” Jolene us
ed soft, soothing words, gentling Lily in the same tone she’d used with her own baby after nearly wrecking the truck. That same tone gentled Nate’s raw nerves and helped the tortured images in his brain recede a little.
He hit the first step, ready to work.
“Oh, my God.” He lifted his head, instantly attuned to the hushed desperation in Jolene’s voice. “That’s a foot.”
A foot? Lily’s baby should be crowning by now.
Breech.
No wonder Lily was in such pain. No wonder the delivery was taking so long. If they’d had the right equipment, the proper facilities, he would have seen the problem before now.
Hell. He was more than a few steps behind on this one.
“Nate!” Jolene was shouting now. “I need you! Nate!”
Nate was already moving, damning his weak knee as he took the stairs two at a time. It wasn’t just the panic in her voice that urged him to run. It wasn’t the fear of losing another child under his care that drove him to Jolene’s side.
She’d called him Nate.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SHE’S READY TO DELIVER, but the baby’s turned around.”
Jolene met Nate at the door, searched his face for the control and confidence he had in such ample supply. She allowed herself one moment of relief, knowing he was there.
The tiny foot she’d glimpsed in the birth canal had frightened her. She’d been scared for Lily, for the baby’s safety. And for one irrational instant, she’d been scared for her own unborn child. She’d never before delivered a baby in breech position. Screw her independence, her need to succeed on her own terms. How could she guarantee their safety? How could she guarantee the health and safety of little Joaquin if she couldn’t even manage this?
Irrational.
Overwhelmed.
She’d cried out for help and Nate Kellison had answered the call. He paused in the doorway, grasped her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.
Sweet relief.
Reporting Lily’s stats, she fell into step behind him as he dashed in. His limp was more pronounced. His knee seemed to be bothering him more and more as the day dragged on, but the urgent purpose in his stride refused to concede to any pain. “Lily?”
“Oh, God.” Lily’s plea was a ragged, desperate cry. “I need to push!”
“Can you hold off for just a minute longer?” Nate asked, pulling a clean pair of latex gloves from the med-kit and adjusting Lily’s position on the bed.
“I’ll try.”
“The baby dropped, but he didn’t turn.” Jolene took hold of Lily’s hand and let her friend squeeze as tightly as she needed to. “Easy, Lily. I’m right here with you. Nate’s going to help us. Right?”
Flecks of doubt darkened Nate’s eyes, but they disappeared before Jolene could question him.
“You bet.” Nate sounded confident, focused.
Jolene nodded, absorbing his determination. His brand of serious looked mighty reassuring for a change. The practiced efficiency with which he donned a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, and palpated Lily’s rigid abdomen didn’t hurt, either. His brown eyes flicked up to hers and Jolene latched on to the strength she saw there.
“See if you can distract her a bit and help her relax,” Nate instructed her. “I’ll have to time this around her contractions.”
Obeying without protest, Jolene took a deep breath and tapped into her own strength. Nate sat on the stool they’d moved to the end of the bed earlier and went to work. Jolene dipped a washcloth into the bowl of cool water on the bedside table and wrung out the excess. Then she pressed the cloth to Lily’s lips and urged her to suck the moisture. She talked about the first thing that popped to mind, then kept talking, holding her friend’s hand, massaging gentle circles against her back and shoulders to distract her while Nate reached in to help the baby.
“Rocky’s turned out to be a real pain in the neck, hasn’t he,” Jolene said.
Lily closed her eyes and nodded. “That bull’s both a blessing and a curse. Won more prizes, sired dozens of the hardiest stock in all of Texas…” Her breath caught.
“Easy, Lily,” Nate urged, rubbing one hand against her belly. “Don’t push yet.”
“But I’m burning—”
“We’re going to get this guy lined up and then he’ll be out in no time.”
“Guy?” Lily’s eyes, damp with sweat and tears, popped open. “Is it another boy? I wanted—”
“Shh,” Jolene cooed, squeezing Lily’s hand and insisting her friend focus on her instead of the pain or any regrets about adding a fourth son to her rambunctious posse. “What makes Rocky such a curse?” Jolene grinned, demanding Lily’s attention. “Besides giving your ranch hands a workout.”
Lily grasped at the topic. “Rocky’s worth thousands of dollars to us. Did Deacon get him back? Oh Lord, if I lose him to this storm, Gabe’s gonna kill me.”
“Gabe’s only going to be worried about you and the baby.” Of that, Jolene was certain. Gabe and Lily Browning had been an old married couple the moment they got engaged. Devoted to each other in the way Jolene had wished her own parents had been in love, the way she wished she and Joaquin had been able to be. “If Rocky’s as smart and ornery as Deacon says he is, that bull will be just fine.”
“But a hurricane?” Lily’s breathing had quickened and gone shallow. She was desperate to push again. “Even that—” she winced “—damn bull…can’t survive on his own in those kinds of wind. He needs…shelter. We’ll lose—”
“We’ll find him,” Jolene promised, tuning in to Lily’s desperation and wanting to ease it in whatever way she could. “We’ll take care of Rocky. You just worry about your little—”
“Got it. Push now, Mrs. Browning.” Nate’s stiff order interrupted them. “Push if you can.”
“God, yes.”
Lily scrambled up onto her elbows. Jolene propped the pillows behind her and supported her back. “You can do it, Lily. Take a deep breath.” She held hers along with her friend. “Push.”
In just a few minutes, the thunder outside was drowned out by the wail of a newborn baby. Plenty healthy from the sound of things.
“Oh, God. Thank you, God,” Lily breathed. “How is he? Is he okay?”
Tears pricked Jolene’s eyes and she whispered a prayer of thanks herself. She tried to peek around Lily’s raised knees, but knew her first priority was to help their patient lie down as comfortably as possible.
Nate tied off the cord, suctioned the tiny airways and wrapped the infant in the clean towels Jolene had gathered. When he rose, the bundle looked tiny, yet infinitely secure, cradled in his sturdy arms. Jolene blinked, sending a tear down her cheek.
She knew the feeling.
“Here you go, Mrs. B.” Nate circled the bed and laid the bundle of baby on Lily’s chest. “You wouldn’t be looking for a little girl, would you?”
“What? A girl?” Lily panted a moment in shock. Then a sudden energy suffused her, lighting up her expression. She quickly unwrapped the baby, verified the truth for herself, then swaddled her tiny daughter tight. She kissed the baby’s head over and over. “My little girl. At last. Amber Renee Browning. My sweet little girl.”
Lily snatched Nate’s wrist and tugged him down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, thank you.”
Was that a blush turning the tips of his ears pink? Jolene wondered.
Nate pulled away. “You did all the work, ma’am. You did a fine job.”
Lily beamed, though whether it was in response to the compliment or the sheer joy of finally getting the daughter she’d wanted for so long, Jolene couldn’t tell.
“Is she healthy?” Lily asked.
Nate nodded. “As far as I can tell. All the fingers and toes are there. She’s pink and plump and has plenty to say.”
“Oh, yes,” Lily cooed to her newborn. “Mommy loves you, too. Daddy’s going to spoil you rotten. And you have three big brothers you’ll have to keep in line.”
As mother
and daughter got acquainted, Nate and Jolene faded out of the picture for a moment. Breathing easier herself, Jolene hugged her tummy and the baby inside. They were okay. Everyone was okay. And they had California here to thank for it.
Without thinking, she reached for Nate’s hand, and laced her fingers through his. “Thank you.”
If the touch had startled him, he never let on. He turned to study her, tightening his grip around hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world for two strangers who barely knew each other and who’d butted heads more often than not to come together to share this miraculous moment.
He really did have beautiful eyes. Eyes that saw more than they should, perhaps. Jolene was so caught up in the warmth there that she didn’t see him lift his hand to her face. But she felt his gentle touch against her skin and savored the tender stroke of his finger along her cheek. He wiped away the trail of her tear and another fell to replace it.
Nate frowned. “You okay?”
“Hormones run amok,” she laughed, knowing something much more profound had just happened here. The protective distance separating them had vanished, and she still wanted to be closer to him. She soaked in his caring. She longed to offer her own. That’s when she noticed the moisture glistening in his dark lashes. “You?”
Nate swallowed hard and Jolene’s gaze darted to his Adam’s apple bobbing along the column of his throat. She waited expectantly, hurting at the anguish he obviously felt.
She reached up, her fingertips drifting across the tight set of his mouth. His lips parted beneath her touch, and his warm breath brushed past her fingers in a subtle, heated caress that stirred something more than compassion inside her. But he released her, denying her an answer, rejecting her comfort, acknowledging his emotions by covering them up. Keeping them in check. Again.
“I need to finish up,” he announced, returning to the end of the bed and pulling on a new pair of gloves so he could secure the afterbirth and do some suturing. “See to the baby’s stats, will you? And one of us needs to call in a sit rep.”