The Texas Rebel [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rebecca Joyce

  It was an honor to sing the national anthem at the championship game.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what the night was going to be like. Standing in the middle of this large field before thousands of screaming sport fanatics, camera lights flickering like fireflies in an open field as they all stand for the nation’s anthem. The American flag raised high behind her, surrounded by military service members. The crowd calms as silence descends. Her voice begins belting out “The Star-Spangled Banner” as fighter jets flew overhead. Oh yeah, talk about an experience of a lifetime!

  “Okay, Ms. Mitchell, there isn’t going to be a stage. We are going to put you about the fifty-yard line, in the middle of the field. You will be flanked by the Iberville Parish Children’s Choir. They beat out competing schools for the honor and will be lending their voices as the military carry the colors. Now, when you finish, there will be a flyby by the United States Air Force, and that can get really loud, because of the afterburners. So we suggest you keep in your earpiece. After that, you’re done. Security members will escort you off the field, and then you’re done,” a man with a clipboard informed.

  “Who’s doing the half-time show?” Bucky asked as he surveyed the field.

  “We are still working on that. With the championship being moved back to the States at the last minute, we are having trouble finding an artist at the last minute. But I am sure someone will volunteer. They always do,” the man offered.

  “Hum, seems that with only days away, whoever it is would need the practice. You better hurry. From a manager’s perspective, no artist likes performing on a whim. They can tend to be divas, if you catch my drift.”

  The man laughed and nodded in understanding.

  Sarah walked around the field, taking in all that surrounded her. This was going to be her first big gig welcoming her back into the public’s eye. Nothing like saying “I’m back,” with over forty thousand screaming football fans, on live television before the world. It was mind-numbing.

  “Yo, gorgeous, what do you think?” Bucky shouted.

  Turing in a slow circle, she found Bucky off to the side of the field and shouted, “It’s amazing!”

  “Well, good. Now that you have seen the venue, we have set up a simple photo shoot out at the marina followed by a small luncheon. If you would follow me, we have a car waiting,” the man offered.

  * * * *

  The dock was crowded with reporters, security personnel, and local police officers. Looking out the window as they drove through the throngs of people, Sarah wondered just how in the hell they all fit down in this small section of New Orleans.

  The marina on Lake Pontchartrain, located in the southeastern part of Louisiana, was not what you would call a true lake, but more like a brackish estuary. Home to the brown pelicans and bald eagles, the lake is now under reconstruction to conserve its natural and wildlife inhabitants, a society that Sarah had always given to. After hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, the lake and her hometown all but disappeared, but with the efforts of the community and organizations like the National Wildlife Society, Lake Pontchartrain was once again flourishing.

  As the car rolled to a stop, she lowered the window a tad as a gust of salty lake air blew, as if it was welcoming her home. God, she loved this town.

  Her door was opened and she was helped out into the warm sun. Greeted by an event staffer, she was ushered toward the larger schooner ship that was docked near the end of the pier. Turning to Bucky, she whispered, “I thought this was on the marina, not a boat?”

  “Don’t worry, sugar. You will be just fine. From my understanding, the boat is staying docked. We are not going out into the water. You’ll be just fine.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say before some freak accident happens and the boat sinks.”

  “There ya go. Be positive!” Bucky laughed as he held her hand up the gangplank.

  * * * *

  The Armstrong brothers were all waiting impatiently downstairs in the lobby of the Bon Temps Hotel for their brother and his new wife. As usual, Mitchell was taking his bloody time. Whenever that boy had anything important to do, he dragged his feet, and this was another one of those times. They had all gathered there to take him and Bridget to lunch and to make sure he called their mother and informed her of the unexpected news.

  It was common knowledge that Sarah Abigail Armstrong didn’t rightly care for Bridget Pearson. She thought the young lady was too headstrong, too independent for her own good. It was nothing personal, just her simple observation. No matter what their mother thought now, they all just wanted to be present when the newlyweds stood before their mother.

  “What is taking him so long?” Marcus asked, pacing back and forth.

  “He is just avoiding the inevitable.” Matthew laughed.

  “He better hurry up. Mikie called Rachael last night and told her the news. I bet you fifty bucks Rach has already informed Mom,” Mason advised.

  “I’ll take that bet,” Michael said, slyly looking at his brother.

  “Never mind,” Mason whispered.

  Mark was sitting on the sofa nursing a scotch next to his father, when that funny feeling started plaguing him once again. He tried to shake it off, but when the hairs stood up on the back of his head, he looked up, scanning the room only to find nothing.

  Everyone’s heads turned as the bickering newlyweds stepped out of the elevator, arguing like cats and dogs. They all rolled their eyes as they approached.

  “Would you shut the hell up?” Mitchell shouted at her.

  “Look, you bastard, this is your entire fault!” she yelled back.

  “My fault! I’m not the one who stuck her tongue down my throat!”

  “No, you’re just the one who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants!”

  “Well, darlin’, you didn’t seem to mind too much last night!”

  “Will you two shut. The. Fuck. Up!” Mark shouted over them, halting their grossly overstated display of foreplay. “If he’s such an ass, Bridget, you shouldn’t have married him.”

  “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t think of anything else to do,” she yelled at Mark furiously.

  “So you married the one man who makes your skin crawl, and they say I’m impulsive.” He grinned, taking another drink.

  “Why you—” she began, but Mitchell stopped her. “Let it go,” he whispered.

  “I’m outta here,” Mark said, getting up.

  “Son, you’ve been drinking. Maybe you oughta stay here,” MH cautioned.

  “I didn’t ask for your permission, nor do I need it. So leave me the fuck alone,” Mark whispered vehemently.

  Leaving his family to deal with the newlyweds, he walked outside for some fresh air. He couldn’t take any more of their bickering. It grated his nerves that after years of bitching back and forth, Mitchell had snagged the one woman he wanted, and now she was justly his, till death did them part. The only consolation was that Bridget would neuter his ass or kill him. Either way, Mark considered it a win-win situation.

  He had to get his mind off her!

  Everywhere he looked, he saw Sarah.

  Women who passed by with the same hair, the same smile, smell, and allure drew his attention to the one woman he was trying to forget.

  He was fucked!

  There was no way he was going to be able to play in the championship game with his head filled with her sweet little body. She surrounded him, engulfing him within her serenity, and it was driving him crazy. What was it about this woman that she ingrained herself into his soul, and for the life of him he couldn’t shake her? He needed to get some clarity, a final resolution of the fact that he had walked away.

  It was his decision. She was better off without him. He knew he would only bring heartache and drama into her quiet world. She didn’t need the added stress of his lifestyle. He knew in his head he had made the right decision, but he just wished he could get his heart to accept.

  It was heartbreaking. The pain
of walking away was so much harder than he ever imagined. She was the light of his life, and to keep her burning bright, he loved her enough to walk away.

  “Fucking coward,” he muttered, making his way down the busy streets of New Orleans. “You’re a fucking pussy. You never deserved her.”

  As he turned the corner, that funny feeling he had been trying to shake all morning turned into the worst case of déjà vu he had ever experienced in his life. The churning, dizzying sensation doubled him over. His head was spinning as he fought against the nausea of black, murky water as it quickly surrounded him. He felt as if someone had knocked him hard over the head and he was falling into the icy cold depths of water. Every muscle in his body grew taut as he tried to fight his way free.

  This wasn’t right.

  Grabbing his stomach, he managed to make it back to the lobby before the feeling of breathlessness kicked him in his gut, sending him gasping for air, falling to his knees as an illusion of her walked in the distance. “Sarah,” he uttered. His vision blurred, and the room spun all around him. He looked up to see his brothers all running for him, then everything went black.

  “As far as we can tell, Dave, is that a party boat filled with college students was out in the open waters of Lake Pontchartrain, when it collided with a schooner ship which was catering to the staff and entertainment for the upcoming championship game. All I know for sure is that several people have been taken by ambulance to nearby hotels. I have also learned that one of the injured is the recording artist, Sarah Mitchell. She was on board attending the party for her upcoming appearance, as she was scheduled to sing the national anthem. This is Meghan Vickers with Channel Six news.”

  Mark was lying on the couch when he heard their whispered voices of warning and concern.

  “Do we know which hospital yet?” Matthew asked.

  “No,” said Mason.

  “What’s Mitch doing?” Michael questioned.

  “He’s calling in some favors,” Bridget replied. “He has a lot of contacts down here.”

  “I swear, that boy knows everyone everywhere,” Michael said, shaking his head.

  “How long do you think he’ll be out?” MH asked Matthew.

  “No clue. I am just worried about when he wakes up,” Matthew offered.

  “Don’t worry about that. Just tend to him,” His father replied, looking worried.

  “It’s like he knew it was happening. What a freak,” Mason said, shaking his head at his sleeping brother.

  They all turned when they heard Mark moan.

  * * * *

  The moment Mark opened his eyes and looked at their faces, he knew something horrible had happened, and his gut told him to whom. He watched as Bridget softly touched Matthew’s arm. Matthew turned to look at him while Bridget whispered in his ear. Before he could even sit up, Matthew was restraining him.

  “What happened?” Mark shouted.

  “Just calm down,” Matthew shouted back. “We don’t know.”

  Mark exerted all of his strength and broke loose of Matthew’s hold. It took all of his brothers to hold him down. He was fighting them hard until Bridget walked over and shouted at him. “Would you stop acting like a fool. I can’t hear!” she said, putting the phone back to her ear. They all listened attentively as she spoke to softly into the phone.

  When she hung up, she turned to find Mark standing right in front of her. He grabbed her arms. “Where is she?”

  Mitchell walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist, slowly moving her away from his brother. He wasn’t taking any chances with what Mark was feeling right now. He just looked directly into his eyes and told him to let go of her. Mark complied and took a step back.

  “All they know is that she fell overboard. She was taken by ambulance to a hospital. But they are keeping a lid on which one because of who she is. I am doing everything I can to get that information.”

  Mark’s head was spinning, He felt like throwing up. He staggered back, and Mason caught him and led him back to the couch. “I feel sick.”

  Matthew stifled a laugh. “Well, you do look a little green. Want some ginger ale?”

  “Why is the room swaying?” he managed to say before he ran to the trash can and threw up.

  “Damn! Mark. What the hell! You’re not on some damn boat. You’re on land, for Christ’s sake!” Mitchell said, holding back his own urge to get sick.

  “I need to find her,” Mark said, looking back up.

  “I know. We will,” Mitchell said, holding his own stomach as he, too, felt sick.

  “They’re doing it again, Mikie. Make them stop,” Matthew said, whining.

  Mark and Mitchell looked at each other and both just smiled.

  “I found her! She is at Oschner’s Medical Center,” Bridget said, grabbing her purse as she followed the brothers out of the hotel.

  * * * *

  They reached the hospital just as another ambulance passed them. On the drive, they pulled over three different times to let the ambulances pass. Bridget was constantly on her phone trying to get updates, but nothing since the hotel.

  Quickly finding a parking spot, they all ran into the emergency room to find it in total chaos. Mark grabbed a passing nurse and demanded to know where Sarah was. “Trauma room two,” the nurse replied as she yanked her arm away, hurrying into another room.

  Mark pushed open the door and entered into a nightmare.

  Lying motionless on a gurney laid Sarah, soaking wet and pale as a ghost. He watched as nurses and doctors began hooking her up to several machines, shouting orders at each other. Her long, beautiful hair was muddy and dull. Her vibrant, luscious pink lips were now gray. Her wet clothes clung to her small form. Moving toward her, he didn’t see Matthew push past him, as he immediately began CPR.

  “How long was she under?” a doctor asked the medic as he charged up the defibrillator.

  “I don’t know. She was already on the dock when we got to her. We had to revive her en route.”

  Matthew looked at Mark. “How long?” he asked, just knowing his brother would know the answer.

  “Maybe a couple of minutes,” he answered stoically.

  “Who the hell are you?” the lead doctor asked Matthew as he continued CPR.

  “Dr. Matthew Armstrong. I am a surgical trauma doctor with Doctors Without Borders. Thought you guys might need the help.” He smiled.

  “Keep doing what you’re doing,” the doctor ordered.

  Standing by, he watched his brother and the medics work on her unresponsive body for close to ten minutes. They worked vigorously, hooking her up to machines and inserting IVs. He watched as they bandaged up her bleeding arms and covered her with warming blankets as Matthew and the other doctor continued their efforts.

  Mark had to look away every time they tried shocking her, but she wasn’t responding. He watched in horror as they worked tirelessly to bring her back.

  With slumped shoulders, Mark watched as the doctor let out a long breath, looked at the clock high on the wall, and said, “She’s gone. I’m sorry. Time of death—”

  “No!” Mark screamed as he ran over to her and picked her up in his arms. Her limp, lifeless body hung motionless in his arms.

  She was so cold.

  Her soft, pearl-like skin was gray and ashen. “Come on, baby, don’t do this,” he said, pleading, just knowing she could hear him.

  “Mark, we tried everything. I am so sorry,” Mattie said, touching his shoulder. Mark jerked away from him and shouted, “She’s not dead!”

  Laying her back down, he started CPR once again. He was refusing to give up. He had enough fight left in him for the both of them.

  He would fight for her.

  He wasn’t going to let her give up, not ever again.

  * * * *

  The doctor, nurses, and medics moved back, allowing Mark his time as they all stood and watched as a madman tried to save the woman he loved. Bridget cried as Mitchell held her. Michael had to look
away, as it was too much for him. Mason and Marcus stood by their father, helpless, for they could do nothing.

  The pain shooting through Mark’s body was indescribable. All he knew was that he was hurting everywhere, and he refused to believe she was gone. Never in his life had he ever suffered anything so heartbreaking, and he would be damned if he allowed this to happen now. Mark knew Sarah had a strong spirit. Her love of life surpassed anything he had ever seen. He knew she would never give up. She didn’t have it in her to quit.

  “Oh God, baby, please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. I was so wrong. I don’t want to be left alone. I’ll do better, I promise. Please, baby, come back to me,” he said as tears streamed down his face. He had to tell her before it was too late. “I’m home, baby. I won’t leave you ever again. I promise I will stay. Please wake up. Show me those beautiful eyes. Come on, Sarah,” he said as he breathed into her mouth once again, shoving hot air into her lungs. Pushing on her chest, he tried to get her heart to start beating. “Come on, baby, you can do this. We can do this together. Just breathe,” he said once again as he breathed for her.

  Still nothing.

  “I swear to God, baby. I will make it all better. Come on, Sarah. Come back to me,” he pleaded with her, begging her to wake.

  With tears running down his face, Matthew touched his shoulder and whispered. “She’s gone, love. Let her go.”

  “No!” Mark screamed.

  The soulful cries within him floored everyone around him. Looking up, Mark saw that his family were all crying and stoically holding on to each other. He watched as Mason and his father stepped forward, reaching for him. Grabbing him and pulling him into their arms, Mark let loose every feeling he had ever had and succumbed to grief.