Today, as she hauled bucket after bucket of water to the barn, the muscles in her arms burned, and she’d swear her thighs were about to give out under the weight she carried, over and over, back and forth. Typically, she could have used the quad with the small trailer attached, but the quad had broken down months ago. She’d bought it second hand from a local farmer the year before, and the thing had been held together with duct tape and twine ever since.
She could hear Ambrose carrying on something awful from the house as she hurried back to the well with the empty buckets. He had to be terrified by the sounds of the storm pounding the ocean and whipping the rain and trees around them into an awful racket. Rain was pouring down in buckets, and with the wind gusting and picking up speed, shutting the baby donkey in her bedroom had been her only option. It was getting too dangerous out there for him. Even the horses had been spooking and freaking out until she moved them into the barn. Each time she lugged a bucket of water, filling the buckets in their stalls and the large extra wooden one just inside the barn, the horses snorted and neighed, and she could feel how tightly they were wound. She stayed out of their stalls and prayed this storm would veer away, changing course as so many others had done year after year.
She dropped the buckets and headed back down the path, jogging and stumbling through the puddles and mud, trying to figure out how she’d haul those heavy bales of hay all this way by hand. Then she tripped and fell. “Oh my God!” She groaned from the pain shooting up her back, straining her shoulders as she pushed her way up on her knees. Candy was used to hard work, but this was beyond anything she’d done in a long time. She didn’t know how she’d continue, but she knew that if she didn’t hurry, they’d be in real trouble. She heard a smack and bang, the sound of the horses whinnying and screaming, and she glanced back at the adobe barn and realized the wind was shooting through the open windows. She hurried back as the palomino started to carry on, making a horrible, terrified sound, kicking and banging at the walls.
Candy raced around the outside to where one of the shutters had been torn off and was dangling by a hinge. She needed to get a hammer and nails quickly, so she started running down the path, soaked by the rain that was pouring down, and could hear her panicked donkey in the house. Something crashed and shattered inside, but she couldn’t stop and worry about what it was, and she couldn’t take him out just yet. For now, he’d be safe, but not her stuff, her things. She sighed. Every crash meant she was losing a piece from the Johnson Brothers Friendly Village china set. She’d fallen in love with the pattern and scraped together every dime she had to buy the outrageously expensive pieces, and not once had she ever used them. But it was just stuff; it could be replaced. Even though every shatter of something breaking inside made her fear it was one of the few precious pieces, there was no contest between stuff, things, and her animals. Items could be replaced, but her animals were living and breathing creatures whom she loved deeply.
She gasped for breath as she slid the bar off the shed where the hay was stored. She wanted to take a minute and rest before she fell down, as she’d been at this for hours, running on pure adrenaline, soaked from sweat and rain. She remembered the hammer and nails she needed to secure the shutters on the barn to keep out the wind so she could calm her horses down. They were on the porch with her tools, just inside the door. She held her side as she raced to the small squared-in porch. She grabbed the hammer, shoved a handful of nails into her front pocket, and then lifted her rain coat and pulled it on over her wet shirt. She stepped off the porch and into a puddle, her wet socks sloshing inside her hiking boots as she ran back to the shed.
Candy knew she wouldn’t be able to make too many trips with the hay. As she lifted off the board that secured the door and dumped it on the ground, she stumbled under the weight. She was so tired; her arms ached, she was shivering from being so wet, and the wind was showing no mercy. Her legs trembled as she staggered inside and spotted the old wheelbarrow leaning against the wooden wall, which had so many cracks that the wind was whistling through it. “Stupid Candy, you could have used this for the buckets.” She wanted to kick herself in the ass; she could have made more trips, saved her energy, if she’d taken the wheelbarrow the first time. She cursed and grabbed it, setting it beside her so she could load in the bales of hay. She figured she could get two on top and balance another on the handle, and maybe that would be enough for a couple of days. That was all she needed to get through, she thought, until the gusts of this hurricane blew past, and then she could come back and get some more.
There were only two bales left on the ground, but she’d need to stand on one to reach the top bale from the next stacked row. Her pitchfork, where the hell was her pitchfork? She couldn’t remember where she’d left it, and she needed it to hook into the top bales and pull them down. Dammit, she’d have to stack another bale on top of the one just to reach the string. She lifted the heavy bale, set it on top, and climbed up, stretching to reach that top bale. She was on her tiptoes, and almost had the twine at the tip of her finger. She stretched a little more and finally slipped her finger under the tight twine and yanked toward her again and again, and it started tumbling forward along with another bale. She tried to hold back the second bale, but it was too heavy, and she felt herself going backward, off balance. She hit the ground, landing on her side, two bales slamming into her chest. Her breath whooshed out from the force of the blow. It took a second, a minute, of stunned silence as she lay with her leg twisted until she wondered what had happened.
She blinked in the dim light as she listened to a braying in the distance, the rattle of shutters banging, the whistle of the wind and rain pounding the old roof. Candy shoved at the bale, but her arms gave out, now nothing more than limp noodles. She had not an ounce of strength, and she couldn’t stop the flood of tears and the sob that racked her body as she lay there, helpless, and fell apart.
Chapter 6
Neil leaned into the four-door covered Jeep as Ana fastened her seatbelt and Carlos started the vehicle, their suitcases piled in back. “Go now. Don’t wait for me.”
“Sir, we’ll follow you to Miss Candy’s....”
Neil cut off Carlos because the rain was pummelling them and the wind was so strong he could feel it beating against the slicker he’d pulled on while helping load up the Jeep. “No, you’re not waiting. I want you out of here now. I’m right behind you. I’ll stop at Candy’s and pick her up. We won’t be far behind you. Now go.” He slapped the roof of the Jeep and slammed the door. Neil had already loaded up his SUV with an overnight bag and some supplies, food, and water, which Ana had put together for all of them. “Just in case” was what she had said, but then, by the looks of things, with the red alert having gone out a while ago and the storm uninterested in veering past them, it had been a really good idea. Neil just hoped the damage wouldn’t be too bad and the roads out wouldn’t be too jammed with traffic.
Neil followed the taillights of the Jeep down the long, winding driveway to the narrow road. Wipers scraped the windshield, barely keeping the rain off. Branches, leaves, and other blowing debris smacked the car. It was becoming really hard to see. “Come on, Carlos. Easy does it.” Neil had to keep a tight grip on the steering wheel, so he really hoped Carlos could get himself and Ana out quickly and stay on the road.
Ahead, Carlos turned left, which would lead to the highway. Neil turned right and headed down the narrow rutted road that led to Candy’s. He’d stop, and, God forbid, if the woman was still there, he’d toss her in the passenger seat and drive. “Yeah, right, studly. As if she’s going to allow you to set your hooks in her.” He’d beg if he had to, but he was getting ahead of himself. Candy had probably already left, of course. It would be insane to stay out there all alone. There had to be some sort of common sense in that stubborn, gorgeous head. “Oh, great.” Neil snorted as he realized, pulling in beside her small adobe and spotting her old truck parked right beside it, that the damn stubborn, pigheaded woman was sti
ll there.
“Work the charm, Neil.” He stepped out into the blowing wind, shutters smacking, an awful braying coming from inside the house, and yelled, “Candy!”
There was nothing.
Chapter 7
She heard a vehicle, its tires splashing through the puddles, then a car door shutting. She lay on her side with a bale on her legs and another on her chest, the hay tickling her nose. She pushed and shoved harder, rolling further onto her side to slide out from under them. Something sharp and painful poked into her outer thigh, her hip, and she yelled. Then she heard Neil shout out her name. He could be loud when he wanted to be, and Candy, for the first time ever, wanted to weep from the sound of his voice. It was so welcome and soothing. This was the “knight in shining armor” feeling that everyone talked about, that books were written about, but she had never understood what it was until now.
She crawled on her knees, dragging her one leg against the sharp pinch from each jolting movement, into the rain, the wind, and over the muddy ground, her hands sliding through the mucky puddles. “Neil!” she called out. Her voice squeaked from the throbbing in her leg.
She tried to look around but had to squint. The rain pelting down and the wind gusting made it impossible to see anything clearly. She spotted a fancy black SUV, one of the Friessen vehicles, one she’d seen Neil drive many times, but she didn’t see him now. She didn’t know where he was. “Neil, I’m here! Please help me!” she cried again. She tried to stand, but something pinched her left leg right below her hip bone, and it hurt like hell. It was better to keep it bent beneath her and drag it along, and then the throbbing wouldn’t be so bad.
“Candy!”
She heard him yell again and squinted to where she could see him coming out of her house. He was on the front step, looking around for her. She raised her hand up as she balanced on her knee, her left side shaky. Every time she moved, it hurt like a burning fire shooting shards of glass into her leg. Instead of getting better, it was worse. “Neil!” she cried out again. This time, she knew he saw her, because he was running toward her.
“What did you do? Why are you still here?” he yelled. He was on the ground, kneeling in front of her in the mud, in the puddles, the rain running off his dark shell jacket.
She couldn’t help herself as she started crying again, clinging to the arm he slid around her. Neil made it so easy then, as he pulled her against his chest, his arms holding her, and, for a moment, she felt safe.
He slid his hand around the back of her head, into her wet, tangled hair. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” He slid his hand under her arm to help her up. “Did you hurt yourself? Candy, talk to me.” His face was so close to hers, leaning in toward her. She could smell his minty breath, and she welcomed the warmth.
She held on to the sleeve of his jacket. “I was trying to get the hay to my horses. I lost my balance, and two bales fell, knocked me over, and landed on me. My leg, my thigh, it hurts here at the joint, where my hip is.” She stuttered as she slid her hand down to her hip, and Neil’s hand instantly covered hers.
“Okay, I’m going to lift you, get you out of the rain, so I can take a look.” He slid his arm around her waist to help her up.
“Oh, crap, Neil, that hurts,” she cried as she kept her hand on her leg, just below her hip, and realized then as she felt the bumps in her pocket, and the sharp poke from the nails, what was causing the pain.
“I know, honey.” He had her in his arms and carried her into the shed she’d crawled from minutes ago. He kicked a bale of hay and set her on it, laying her on her side. “Show me again where it hurts.” He was kneeling in front of her.
“Right here. I had nails in my pocket and a hammer, too. I think it might be a nail.”
“The hammer’s here on the ground.” Neil shoved her hand away from her leg. “You’re bleeding right below your hip, Candy. I have to take your pants down to get a better look.”
She nodded. “I can’t straighten it out. It hurts too much.”
“I’m going to do this slowly, but I have to put my hands on you, okay?” He held them up for a moment as if he needed her permission, and she saw his hesitation, as if he thought she might freak out and scream if he touched her. But then, she’d given him plenty of reason, even though the truth was that her body craved his touch.
He pulled back his hood on his dark slicker, and he had such confidence in his eyes, just a spark of which she would have killed for. He was here, Neil was here for her, and because of that, she couldn’t find her voice. It was lodged deep somewhere between her shame, her worry, and her desire for him.
“Candy.” He touched her arm, leaned over her.
“Okay, just do it.” She choked it out.
Neil untied the drawstring and pulled down the zipper. He slipped his hand inside her pants and started to pull them down, and she felt the sharp shooting pain as if a hot poker were ramming into her leg. She grabbed his wrist.
“Candy, you’ve got a nail in your leg, right below your pelvis. Jesus, Candy, what were you doing?” Neil snapped, and she could feel how tense he was as he glanced over his shoulder at the rain and branches blowing. The storm had picked up.
“Neil, pull it out, please. It’s one of the nails from my pocket. I need to nail down the shutters on the barn where I put the horses. I have to hurry. I was trying get the hay to them. Please help me. It’s the only way I can get them to stop freaking out and keep some of the storm out.” She squeezed his wrist harder as he slid it inside her pants and along her hip.
“This is going to hurt, honey. I’d rather get you to help, a hospital, a clinic, find a doctor somewhere.”
“No!” she yelled, then pounded her fist into his chest, but he grabbed it and held both her hands before she could swing again. He watched her, but his expression was filled with fury and stubbornness, something so solid that she knew he was thinking of scooping her up and tossing her into his vehicle. There was something else there, too, and she hoped she wasn’t wrong, because right now she needed him.
“Please, Neil, my horses. My baby donkey is in the house. I can’t leave them. Just take out the nail and go. I’m not going to any hospital. I have to get the hay to my horses. They were freaking out from the wind when I left. I need to nail the old shutters closed. They were hanging, and...I have to protect my—my horses.” She was shaking and couldn’t stop the stutter. She was just so cold, or maybe it was from shock. She didn’t know for sure anymore. She was tired, too.
Neil’s expression became hard and unreadable. He glanced away and shook his head. When he looked back at her, his lips were a fine white line. “Dammit, Candy, you are the most stubborn, pigheaded woman, and if you think I’m going to just leave you here, you don’t know me very well.” Neil slid his hand over her hip, inside her pants, and she could feel when the cloth pulled at the nail. “This could be really deep, Candy, and I don’t know what you’ve nicked. Could be an artery or a vein. This is stupid and dangerous.”
He yanked hard, and Candy screamed. She didn’t know how he had done it, but he had her pants down to her knees and was pressing his hand over the puncture, holding it so it didn’t hurt as much.
“It’s bleeding quite a bit, Candy. I need to wrap it.”
She didn’t have a chance to say a word as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the wind-driven rain, fighting against it as he staggered with her to the house.
Candy could hear Ambrose braying and banging something in her bedroom, and Neil set her on the old sofa. “I’ll be right back.”
She watched him as he moved away from her toward her tiny, boxlike bathroom. Neil was tall, and this house seemed to crowd him.
“Candy, do you have any antibiotic cream, anything for cuts? And why the hell is there a donkey in the house?”
“There’s some alcohol and iodine, I think, in the cabinet under the sink.” She giggled, but it wasn’t rational at all. “I couldn’t leave Ambrose outside. It’s safer in here.”
She could hear Neil rummaging, and he reappeared a few seconds later with towels and two plastic bottles, one of alcohol, the other iodine, but she realized that one was probably empty.
“You named your donkey Ambrose?”
He set the towels beside her and she felt herself warm as she realized she was in only her thin panties, that were wet and sheer, and he could see everything. Neil pulled up a stool and sat down scooting a towel under her leg and slid it up to where blood dribbled from where the nail had been. A bad spot right below her hip bone at the joint to her leg. And she stared at the ugly puncture the burning ache started building, and it hurt like hell. And she worried for a minute of bacteria and whatever else was on that nail, and the oozing puncture.
“This is going to hurt.” Neil said as he unscrewed the white bottle.
Candy toed off her wet boot, more for something to do, as she turned her head away and pressed the back of her wrist over her eyes. “Please just do it fast.” She felt sick, anticipating, waiting. She could feel every movement Neil made. His arm brushed her bare thigh, and she was so aware of her indecency that it was absolutely embarrassingly awkward, having her pants down around her knees.
He pressed his arm across her chest to give her something to hold on to as he poured, and the burning, ripping sting hit fast and hard as the cold, clear alcohol sizzled over the wound. She tried to stifle her scream as he pressed a towel against it and fresh blood dribbled out.
The Unexpected Storm Page 3