by Stacey Weeks
“Jenna, I wanted to tell you—”
“William, there is something you need to—”
They chuckled. Nervously.
“You first,” he said.
“I found your bible at the church.”
His heart stuttered.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I read a bit.” She peeked at him shyly.
Mind? It’s what he had been praying for. “Jenna—” The shrill of his phone cut the air. “Sorry, just a sec.” He pulled it out. “Can you find the source? How much damage? OK. Turn off the water. We’ll be right there.” He disconnected and met Jenna’s questioning gaze.
“What’s going on?” Her concerned eyes darted between the road and him.
“That was Pastor Matthew. There is a leak somewhere in the church. The sanctuary is flooded.”
Fifteen minutes later, William splashed his way to the section of wall Jenna had described on their race back to the church. The fresh mud on the soft drywall sagged. “It’s over here,” he called to Matthew.
Matthew sloshed his way over. “How do you know? The guys and I have spent the last thirty minutes looking for the leak and you walk in and know with just a glance?”
William looked past Matthew at Jenna, who had confessed that she had instructed Austin to drywall over the exposed pipes. “Let’s just say I have a hunch.” William pulled back his sledgehammer and busted through in one careful squishy hit. Talk about overkill. He probably could have removed the wet section like a banana peel.
It was going to take hours—maybe days—to fix the damage. So much for finishing on time. He pushed the thought aside.
This was the section he told the drywall guys to wait on until the plumbing was fixed. He didn’t think he had to tell Jenna. She had no business overstepping her bounds. He dropped his hammer to the floor and pulled off the remaining drywall and exposed the unrepaired plumbing.
Oh, Jenna. What have you done?
“Should I turn the water back on?” Matthew shouted over the noisy hum of shop vacs and volunteers on bucket patrol.
“No, not yet.” William studied the pipes. Should he take the whole section apart? He shifted his weight back onto his heels. Yeah, he’d have to take the whole section apart.
“Hey Jenna? Can you hand me that hacksaw.”
She jumped into action, overeager to help. She swung the hacksaw out toward him the same time William turned and leaned toward her. The hacksaw connected with his face with all the subtly of a two-by-four.
“Omph!”
Pain. More pain than he had ever felt slammed into his face. And that included the time his brother cracked him in the forehead with a Louisville slugger.
Explosions erupted and the floor rushed up.
“William!” Jenna’s dim voice faded behind the fireworks blasting through his skull.
A freight train roared.
A hand rolled him over onto his back sloshing water down the length of his body.
“William? Can you hear me?”
He peeled open his throbbing eyes but couldn’t see through his sticky hands cradling his face. How did he end up on the floor?
“William!”
He groaned, somewhat realizing that the sticky wetness was not water, but blood.
“Matthew, call an ambulance!” Jenna’s voice broke though the haze.
“I don’t need a first responder,” William grunted, sloshing as he pulled himself up. The spinning room knocked him back down again with a splash. “I am a first responder.”
A lot of good that was doing him.
“No time to be a hero, William. You might have a busted nose, or worse.” Matthew handed him a cloth to stop the flow of blood.
“I’m sorry,” Jenna cried. She covered his hand with hers and applied gentle pressure to his wound.
A busted nose…or worse? He couldn’t imagine worse. Well, maybe he could. At least the sheath had been on the hacksaw to cover the blade.
Jenna’s hand trembled, and his crew gathered as if he were some prize heifer up for auction. He wasn’t sure which bothered him more.
“You guys have nothing better to do but stare?” He gave his best stink eye, with one eye because the other wouldn’t open anymore.
“Yeah.” They scattered. But not fast enough to hide their scoffing and chuckles. Great. Nothing like losing the confidence of the people over an idiotic work accident.
Blood seeped through the towel and the world tilted a bit more.
“I’m sorry, William. I really am,” Jenna kneeled in front of him, evidently unconcerned about the water seeping through her designer jeans.
William groaned as he shifted into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall.
A long moment passed where she simply looked at him.
His gaze flicked to her mouth and lingered.
She leaned in. Tentatively.
His foggy brain understood what her eyes asked. He nodded slightly, ignoring the pain that rolled through him with the action. Everything faded. Her breath caught and she paused for a half second. She pushed his wet hair off his forehead with both hands then gently tugged his hand holding the towel down from his face. Her eyes raked over his injuries. She searched his expression.
Her minty breath spread across his face. His heart thundered in his ears, but for a whole different reason than before. He couldn’t stand it any longer.
He closed the space between them, but at the last second, she tilted her face downward and he bypassed her lips and pressed his warm mouth against her forehead. Then, she sank down beside him and tucked herself close. He brushed another feathery kiss against her temple and slipped his arm around her shoulder. He held her like that, quietly, for what felt like eternity.
Matthew cleared his throat.
He swiped at the dripping water from his face with the blood soaked towel. “I’ll be OK. Help me up, will you?” He held out a hand and Matthew hoisted him up. The world spun some more and blackness slammed in.
~*~
“Ohhhh,” William groaned. He opened his eyes. Make that eye. One still wasn’t cooperating.
Trevor and Peter hovered over him. What were the first responders doing here? And when had he lain back down?
He tried to sit up and Trevor offered his hand. “Slow down, cowboy. Let’s take a closer look at that wound.”
Trevor’s know-it-all grin irritated him more than their fussing over him.
“I’m fine,” William snapped and he attempted to stand, to shake it off like a man.
“No, you’re not.” Trevor blocked his attempt. “You got knocked pretty hard. Hard enough that according to Matt and Jenna, the last time you tried to stand you blacked out.”
William shot Matt a traitorous look.
“Now be a good patient and let me finish checking you over.”
He eyed Peter with his one good eye, begging for sympathy. “Come on, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t need an ambulance, so you only have to deal with us.” Peter winked. “And we won’t tell anyone that Jenna here took you out.” Peter’s attempt to keep a straight face produced a smirk.
“I’m OK,” William insisted. If feeling like road kill could be called OK. “And smashing my head on the floor is likely what knocked me out, not Jenna’s fist.”
Peter chuckled as Trevor summarized his injuries. “You’ve got a cut on your cheekbone—”
Which was swelling into his line of vision.
“—and we’re gonna need to butterfly it, so sit still. You won’t need a stitch. I don’t think you broke anything—”
“But you’re gonna look purdy!” Peter cut in, finally letting out his guffaws.
“That’s right, get it out of your system now. Any chance you can give me some pain pills?”
Peter handed him two with a bottled water, and William downed them without comment.
“I’m taking you to the ER.” Jenna dared the first responders to deny her the right with a look.
Will
iam shoved himself up and he eagerly sought her face. Had he really tried to kiss her or was that some unconscious dream? Was she upset? He didn’t need the emergency room, but she looked like she needed to take him. He tried to stand and he swallowed the queasiness that hurdled up his throat at the motion. “Fine, let’s go.”
Jenna slipped her arm around him and helped him to her car. He briefly shut his eyes, and the next thing he knew they had arrived, Jenna ushered him through registration with the triage nurse, and nervously hovered over him in the waiting room.
“William…” She fiddled with her purse strap. The empty space between them vibrated with energy.
She thought their almost kiss had been a mistake. That’s why she turned her face away. She already had regrets.
“Jenna?” A woman carrying a clipboard strode through the doors, glanced their way, and did a double take.
“Yes?” Jenna stood up and turned toward the nurse.
“Do you remember me from the blood donor clinic?”
“Yes, how are you doing? If I remember right, you were heading out that night on a blind date. Was he great?”
William’s head swam. Jenna donated blood?
“It was great.” The nurse blushed. “I’m seeing him again this week.”
“That’s nice.”
“Listen, I have a letter for you from the blood donor clinic that I was just going to drop in the mail. But this news is better to get in person. Can you come with me for a moment, please?” The nurse glanced William’s way. “Wow. What happened to you?”
Oh yeah. His face. Now that the painkillers had kicked in, it didn’t feel half as bad, but if her reaction was any indication, it still looked horrific.
“Ah, plumbing accident.”
“I have time,” Jenna interrupted. She turned to William. “Will you be OK for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Jenna followed the nurse a few steps away. Was she eager for distance between them again? Had he crossed the line?
William didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but when Jenna’s body went rigid and her face drained of color, he covered the space between them in two strides. He caught her elbow and the nurse’s last words. Jenna’s blood had tested positive for HTLV, Human T-Lymphotropic Virus, a possible precursor to Leukemia.
The room spun. He dropped Jenna’s elbow and grasped for a chair back, for anything to support his weight.
Not again, God. No!
12
Jenna tapped her fingers against her thigh. Leukemia. She might have leukemia. Might develop leukemia, she corrected herself. She forced her white knuckled-grip on the steering wheel to loosen.
Her heart twisted. William sat stone-faced in the front passenger seat not saying anything. Not a word about her diagnosis. Not a word about the plumbing accident. Not a word about their almost kiss. Nothing.
“The nurse gave me a website and said it had lots of information. She said not jump to any conclusions without reading up on what all this meant. I also need to call some doctor next week.”
William nodded. His jaw set in a grim line. He had retreated into some sort of uncrackable protective shell.
A lot of good that did her.
The headlights from the oncoming traffic lit his shadowy profile in random intervals. The commute from Bayview to the city hospital usually only took twenty minutes. Tonight, it stretched on for hours. At least that’s how it felt.
She flexed her fingers. They ached at the way they had curled around the steering wheel again. Why didn’t William say something? Anything?
She prattled on, filling the silence. “The blood donor clinic that you organized screens all donations for certain things. This is one of them.”
In the silence, feelings of abandonment suddenly swept in with crushing despair as she remembered what he did—or more specifically didn’t do—after the nurse made her announcement. His retreat and silence clarified a lot of things between them.
Nothing should develop between them. That kiss, or almost kiss, was a lapse in judgment. It was a guilt driven moment she needed to forget.
She peeked at him again. He tipped his head forward and started to pinch the bridge of his nose, then stopped himself. Like it was still too painful to touch. That was her fault, too. Her stomach heaved. Everything had become such a mess. An unredeemable mess.
She inhaled. Hard. Hard enough that William finally turned and looked at her. It felt like the first time he had seen her since the nurse’s announcement.
“You OK?” He gingerly shifted in his seat in order to see her better.
The bare trees whipped by as they zipped down the road. She couldn’t answer. The image of him stepping away from her at the hospital paralyzed her voice.
“Jenna?” William tried again.
She steeled herself against his rough timbre. “I’m fine.”
She angled her head away from him, not wanting him to see how much his withdrawal had hurt her. Damp heat rose behind her eyes and she blinked. She was so stupid. He clearly didn’t care about her. If he did, he would have offered more than disbelief at the nurse’s words.
Her skin burned where his lips had touched her forehead, as if he had branded her for his own. She couldn’t love him. She wouldn’t love the wrong man again. She needed to leave, wanted to tell him that she needed to leave but every time she looked at his battered face, the words stuck in her throat behind a boulder of guilt. She couldn’t leave before the project was done. Especially since her mistake had caused a big delay and she’d nearly disfigured him.
When it became clear she wasn’t interested in conversation, William turned back and faced the front. His lips moved like he was praying. But for what? The supernatural ability to forgive her? For God to rewind time and allow a redo?
“Hey, look at that!” Jenna slowed down and pointed at the church as they passed. The parking lot overflowed with vehicles. Every light in the building shone despite the late hour.
“Turn around,” William ordered, then he softened his tone. “Please.”
Jenna signalled and made a three point turn then slowly pulled into the lot. “Do you know what’s happening?”
“No idea.” His curt tone revealed his exhaustion.
They got out of the car. They’d only stop for a minute. Just long enough for her to see how much damage her impulsive instructions had caused.
Another set of headlights crossed the front of the building, and a van from the television station pulled in next to them. Great. Here to film their epic failure for all creation to enjoy. She stuffed her sarcasm inside and squared her shoulders. She pulled up her chin and sneaked a glance at her silent partner.
William raised an eyebrow, then flinched. That probably hurt, too.
Dead tired. Sore. Emotionally drained. The idea of poking around at the church and smiling for the camera held no appeal. But it was enter, or meet the camera crew who now gathered their equipment from the back of their van near the church’s front steps.
“William, before we go in I have something to say.” She held out her arm and blocked him. Judging by how quickly the cameraman was gathering his things, she only had about thirty more seconds before it was recorded for a television audience. She cleared her throat and swallowed fear. This was her fault. She knew it. He knew it. Professionally and personally she needed to right the wrong no matter how disappointed she was that he withdrew over her recent diagnosis.
“Yes?” William’s guarded smile twisted the knife in her gut. He must be as tired as her.
She rested her hand on his arm. “I promise that I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”
“There is nothing you can do to fix the church.” His eyes carried none of the anger she anticipated and deserved.
“I mean it,” she insisted. “Anything.” Except admit her deepening feelings or risk her heart. “Maybe things will work out. Maybe it’s not as bad as you remember…” She floundered for something concrete to say, but had nothing. “I me
ant what I said, William. I’ll do what I can to help.” Their hands touched for a second and the current that zipped between them could have powered the whole city.
William smiled. The first real smile she had seen on his face since the accident. “I know you meant it, Jenna. But we can’t fix this on time. It’s too late. There was too much damage.”
Her heart sank. Too late. For what? The church? Them?
William pushed open the door, leaving her no choice but to follow him inside. The room hummed with shop vacs and chatter. Countless volunteers put the final touches on cleaning up the space. Standing in the middle of the organized chaos was William’s dad.
She followed William as he rushed up the stairs. “What’s going on?”
She spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. A smile stretched across her face. “It’s done. It’s all done.”
“Dad. When? How?” William stuttered.
“I heard the 911 call on the radio and came right away. Once Pastor Matt filled me in, I knew you’d need my help. I even called the TV station to have them come and film. You know, the whole small town angle, everyone pitching in to help. Could be great.”
Jenna would’ve laughed at the look of disbelief on William’s face if it wasn’t for the nearby cameras setting up on the far side of the room.
Carmen dropped a hand on William’s shoulder. “We’re family, son. This is what a family does.”
William dragged a hand through his hair. “But you never said anything.”
“Family doesn’t need to say anything. We’re here for you. All of us. How are you feeling?”
Jenna stepped forward, barely containing the hope that surged through her chest. The floor was dry, even the scratch she’d dug into the wood had been buffed smooth. “How can we ever thank you?”
Carmen gathered Jenna into his arms for a quick hug. “Just being here is thanks enough. You’re one special lady, and I pray my lug-head of a son here knows it.”
Red crept up William neck. A wide smile, the most hopeful smile Jenna had seen in a week, took over his features.