“No. I’m not leaving you. I’m—”
He held her face between his hands. “Fran. We need to try. We need help.”
She looked up, then back at him. They had to try.
Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded.
He bent over, bracing his hands against the support so he’d have help straightening if he needed it. Fran crouched beside him, turning his face to her. Their bodies created a small pocket of quiet.
“You should know that I love you, Zach Corbett.”
He tried to say the words, but they wouldn’t come. He kissed her, their lips cold and wet, and he never wanted to stop.
And then she straightened, patted his back, and swung her leg up.
“Stand up!” he shouted.
He felt her wobbling, but she stood, steadying herself against the rough surface of the bridge.
He pressed his feet into the soggy ground, straightening his legs, slow, steady. If he jerked or slipped—but he wouldn’t. He would do what he needed to save Fran. Fran had to be safe. Had to.
In increments that took seconds but seemed to last lifetimes, he brought himself upright, feeling Fran’s shifting balance on his shoulders. She called out—words he couldn’t decipher, though she sounded excited. But her weight didn’t shift the way it would if she were reaching for the railing.
And then it not only shifted, but lifted off, so abruptly that he stumbled sideways. His foot went out from under him and he dropped to his knees, one in the water, one on the last patch of the island.
“Zach!”
It was a chorus of his name. He looked up, and saw faces looking down at him over the railing. A dozen voices calling his name. A rope came over the side, snaking down to him.
He pulled himself up, made a loop in the end and fit it under his arms. He tightened the knot, grabbed hold of the rope above him, and shouted “Ready!”
He felt the slow draw on the rope. His feet cleared the water, which now covered the ground they’d stood on. He dangled, cold water streaming from his shoes, then was slowly pulled upward.
As Zach neared the railing, he saw Fran’s face, pale, intense. He tried to grin at her, but he didn’t think his mouth cooperated.
Steve, straddling the railing, leaned over and grabbed his arm, hauling him up so other hands could secure him and bring him onto the cracked surface of the old bridge.
“Nell?”
“She’s fine,” Steve said. “She’s in a car with Annette and the heater’s going full blast.”
He nodded—at least he thought he did. Fran was beside him. He took her hand.
The buzz of voices and bustle of activity seemed to push away from him then. Like a radio turned low.
They made him sit down, but he kept hold of Fran’s hand, so she sat with him. Someone put a blanket around him; she tucked it tighter. She was cocooned in a blanket, too. Someone else gave him a cup with hot coffee. He scalded his tongue on the sugary substance, and didn’t care.
“Let me take a look at that head,” instructed a woman in a uniform.
“Bleeding?” he asked.
“Sure is,” she said cheerfully. “Along with a bunch of bark stuck to it.”
He winced once at the sting of the antiseptic she applied. “It’s okay,” he reassured Fran.
“You could use stitches,” the paramedic said. “But it’ll do for now.”
A small form came barreling toward him. Zach stood to meet her, still holding Fran’s hand, glad for Steve’s support.
“Okay, Steve?” He met his brother’s eyes. Knew his question was understood.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Nell wrapped her arms around Zach, burying her face against him so he had no chance of understanding what she said. But he heard his name a couple times, and what sounded like “Uncle.” He stroked her wet hair and patted her on the back. They were going to be okay.
Another figure hurried through the pockets of official and unofficial rescuers.
Water streamed her hair flat, formed dark stains on her designer suit.
“Nell! Zach! Oh, thank God, thank God!”
Lana Corbett hurled herself at him. He had to let go of Fran’s hand to hold on to his mother.
“They said Nell was in the river, they said it was rising… Thank you. For saving our girl.”
He took the blanket off his shoulders, turned it inside out and put it around Lana, his hands lingering.
And then Lana Corbett reached out and put her palm against her younger son’s cheek, and he was sure those were tears. She looked up, up to heavens still streaming rain. “Thank you for bringing all my family back safely.”
“Fran.” They were in the back of Steve’s SUV with fresh, dry blankets wrapped around them.
“Yes, Zach.”
“I won’t lose you again.”
“You didn’t lose me this time.”
She cupped her hand to the hard line of his jaw, grazing her thumb across his top lip.
His head came up, their eyes met. She tipped her head, her fingers so light against his jaw, and kissed him. After too brief a time, she lifted her head and looked at him again.
“We’re getting married.”
She grinned. “Is that an order?”
He wasn’t ready to grin yet. “Damn right it’s an order. We’re getting married.”
“Okay, but it has to be in Bliss House, or Miss Trudi will never forgive us.”
“I don’t care where. If you don’t want to leave here, Fran—”
“I want to go where there are plenty of universities and white picket fences and you. I hear Virginia’s the place for all that.”
This time, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him completely. Exploring angles and connections, lining his bottom lip, then meeting his tongue. His arms came around her.
“It’s not an easy life, Fran. There’s a lot of time spent away from the family. The ones staying at home carry the whole load, and we never know when we might be called or—”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“I know you can handle anything. I just want to let you know what it is you’ll have to be handling.”
“I can handle you, Zach Corbett, and that’s what matters.”
Oh, yeah, she most definitely could handle him.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-2489-6
BABY BLUES AND WEDDING BELLS
Copyright © 2005 by Patricia McLaughlin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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* Wedding Series
† A Place Called Home
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†† Something Old, Something New…
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