by Rebecca York
Still she worried about Matthew.
She went to bed early and woke long before she had to leave for the airport, caught between excitement and trepidation. Though the trip covered a short distance, it seemed to take forever until she was in her rental car in Los Angeles. As she drove to Garrison Care, her tension mounted.
In the parking lot, she tried to calm the pounding of her heart.
Taking a deep breath, she gave the two-story building a critical look. It was in the mission style popular in California, with nicely landscaped grounds.
Inside, she continued her appraisal. The facility was spotless, and the staff looked efficient. Probably the best she could hope for, under the circumstances.
Her pulse was pounding as she walked to the front desk and said she was Isabella Flores, an old friend of Matthew Houseman who wanted to visit him.
The woman checked her computer, then looked up with a concerned expression on her face. “You haven’t been here before. You know he’s in our coma ward?”
“Yes.”
“I should prepare you. He probably won’t know you.”
“I’m a nurse. I know what to expect, but thanks for warning me,” she managed to say, wondering if she was really prepared.
“Room 202.”
“Thank you.”
She took the elevator to the second floor, walked past the nursing station and into a room with a bed, monitors, and the kind of equipment designed to sustain a patient who wasn’t able to function on his own.
She had looked everywhere except directly at the man in the bed. Finally, with a mixture of hope and dread, she allowed herself to focus on him.
Her breath caught when she saw him. It was Matthew Houseman, looking like the man she had seen at the ranch. Only now he was lying in a bed under a light blanket.
His face was still and pale, his eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell without assistance. At least he was breathing on his own. And he looked like someone had been taking good care of him. He’d been shaved recently, and his hair was trimmed.
Her heart was thumping inside her chest as she walked quietly toward him. “Matthew, it’s Isabella. I’ve come to wake you up,” she said, her words bold but her voice trembling.
When he didn’t answer, she laid her hand against his cheek, stroking her finger against the stubble of his beard the way she had at the ranch. She wanted to climb onto the bed with him and hug him to her, but she was afraid to do that. Instead she leaned over him, pressing close, praying she could connect with him as they had yesterday.
“Matthew, you were at El Cayado. You were going to chase me away, until you found out who I was. You protected me there,” she murmured.
He’d grown so responsive at the ranch. Here, he said nothing, and she wondered if he had any idea someone was there talking to him.
“Matthew, please. Come back to me. I love you,” she said, the last part coming out as a sob. “And I know you love me. You didn’t say it, but I know it’s true.”
She was so focused on Matthew that she didn’t realize they were no longer alone.
A harsh voice interrupted her from the doorway. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Isabella turned to see a plump nurse in her sixties with a round face and salt and pepper hair. Her name tag said “Gloria Romano.”
“I came to see Matthew.”
“On a sudden impulse? You’ve never been here before.”
“I didn’t even know Matthew was here until yesterday.”
Who are you?”
“Isabella Flores.”
The nurse gasped.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You know my name?”
The nurse’s gaze flicked from Isabella to Matthew and back again.
“He hasn’t spoken in five years. I mean, he hadn’t spoken—until he said your name.”
“My name?”
“Yes. Isabella.”
Isabella reached down and clasped Matthew’s hand, hope springing up inside her again. Maybe this wasn’t so foolish after all. “You called to me. Oh, Matthew.”
If she expected a response, she got none.
“What happened after that?” she asked. “After he spoke my name?”
“Nothing. I mean, he said that you needed help. But that was all. We called Dr. Berman. He couldn’t find any neurological changes.”
“And you were the only one who heard Matthew speak?”
The woman looked defiant. “I didn’t make it up.”
“I wasn’t saying that.” She studied Gloria Romano, sure that the woman cared about this patient.
“What are you to him?” Gloria demanded.
Isabella had come here with some vague plan of waking Matthew up. Or maybe she thought he’d open his eyes and leap out of bed as soon as he saw her. It was clear that wasn’t going to happen, but how much should she say now?
Would this woman think she was crazy—like Frank Decorah?
She continued to study the nurse, trying to decide. Finally she said, “Eight years ago, my father and I were political refugees from San Marcos.”
“San Marcos? It was just in the news. Wasn’t the strong man who ran the country assassinated?”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re deciding what lie to tell me.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because of the look in your eyes.”
“No. I’m trying to decide if you’ll believe the truth.”
Gloria rested her hands on her hips. “Try me.”
Isabella dragged in a breath and let it out. Trying to condense a complicated story, she said, “My father was a reporter back in our country. He got tired of publishing news stories that were lies and wrote a series of articles telling the truth about General Lopez. But of course he couldn’t put them in the paper. Instead, he had them privately printed.
“Lopez found out and tried to have him killed. They did kill my brother, and my mother ran away from the family. My father and I escaped to the U.S., but General Lopez still sent assassins after us here. Papa hired Decorah Security to protect us, and Matthew was one of the agents who guarded us at my father’s ranch outside of Sedona, Arizona.”
Gloria was taking it all in. “That’s why you’re here now? Because you knew him a long time ago?”
“Partly. I thought he was dead. Then thugs from San Marcos came after us a few days ago. I escaped from them in Phoenix and hid out at the ranch and . . .” She stopped and gulped. “And Matthew came to me. He said he was there to protect me. I thought he was a ghost,” she murmured. “Until Frank Decorah told me he was here.”
“Frank Decorah. He visits every few months.”
“He does? I didn’t know that.”
“Yes. He must care a lot about Matthew. He pays his bills here.” She fixed Isabella with a penetrating look. “You expect me to believe your story?”
“Maybe not. But it’s true.”
“And what do you think is going to happen now?”
“I thought I could come here and wake him up. That he’d know me when I spoke to him, touched him. The way he did at the ranch yesterday.”
“Yesterday! He was here yesterday. Like he always is.”
“His mind was at the ranch.”
Gloria snorted. “That’s pretty hard to believe.”
“I know.”
“Well, here he only knows me,” Gloria said. “I’ve taken care of him since he arrived. He’s special to me.”
“Yes,” Isabella breathed. “I can see that, and I know you want to help him.”
“How?”
As she’d been talking to Gloria, she’d been trying to figure out what had happened to Matthew. And as she spoke now, the truth of the words grew in her mind.
“I think his spirit and his body are separated. I was hoping that my coming here might wake him up. But now I see it’s not that simple.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “I think that the two parts of him can only be fused back toge
ther at the ranch,” she answered, the truth of her words coming to her as she spoke them.
“That’s crazy. Dragging him to a ranch outside of Sedona will kill him.”
“What’s his life worth now?”
Gloria didn’t answer in words, but her eyes told Isabella what she thought. Matthew was doomed to lie silently in this bed until he died.
“I don’t want to kill him. I want to cure him,” Isabella whispered.
“You can’t take him away from here,” Gloria argued.
“I think it’s the only way to bring him back to himself. You said he was talking about me. He said that I needed help. Now he needs help, and I can give it to him.”
“I’m going to call the doctor.”
“Don’t. Please.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking. No lying.”
Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. She hadn’t planned this out, but the answers came to her. “I want to take him by ambulance to the ranch. To the red rocks where there’s a vortex. Have you heard of them? They’re places of power in the desert near Sedona. Places where prayers are more effective and the vibrations of the earth . . .” She turned her hand palm up. “Places the Native Americans knew were rich with psychic energy. I think I can bring him back to himself if I take him there.”
Gloria scoffed. “Now I’m sure you have a couple of screws loose.” But her eyes told Isabella that she was listening.
“It’s not just the vortex. It’s me. He responded to me.” She kept her gaze on the woman. “At first he was barely there. I could see right through him like a phantom, and that’s what I thought he was. But the more we talked and touched, the more solid and real he became. I knew I was bringing him back to himself. Then thugs came to kill me.
“He helped me escape from them. When it was over, he disappeared, and Frank Decorah told me he was at Garrison Care. I thought if I came here, Matt would wake up. But he didn’t respond to me here.”
She rushed on, “I’m a nurse. I work at Phoenix General Hospital, if you want to check up on me.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll bring him to the ranch.”
“What are you saying exactly? Take him out of here without permission?”
Isabella swallowed. “I don’t think we’re going to get permission. We’re not his next of kin.”
“Who is?”
“He told me he had a sister. I don’t even know where to find her. And she’d probably think I was crazy.”
“Like I did.”
“Yes.”
Gloria kept her gaze steady. “If I help you get him out of here, we could be murdering him.”
“He won’t die. He’ll be able to live a normal life.”
“I wish I could be as sure of that as you.”
Isabella held her breath. Gloria could refuse. Worse, she could call the police and have Isabella thrown out of here. Or maybe even arrested.
Instead, she gave a little nod. “If you’re crazy, I guess I am, too.”
They stared at each other, unlikely allies.
“Are you on duty tonight?” Isabella asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll do it after midnight, when it’s quiet. You’ll stay on duty and pretend that he’s still in his bed.”
Gloria looked torn. “I don’t want to stay at Garrison. I want to go with you.”
Isabella saw the disappointment on the nurse’s face. “I know. But Matthew and I will come back as soon as we can.”
An eternity passed before the other woman whispered, “All right.”
“I’m not familiar with the L.A. area. What ambulance service should I use?”
Gloria gave her the name of a company.
After that, everything went very quickly. Isabella had some preparations to make, and then she came back to Garrison Care, using the back door that Gloria had left unlocked.
Together they dressed Matthew in sweatpants, a loose shirt that buttoned down the front, socks, and tennis shoes before rolling him onto a gurney, then wheeling him through the darkened hall to the elevator and to the ambulance entrance. The ambulance was at the service bay, and the driver waited while they transferred Matthew to the vehicle.
She could see that he was wondering why they were taking an unconscious patient out of the facility in the middle of the night, but the large tip she’d given him kept him from saying anything.
“Are you sure you can manage?” Gloria asked as she looked at Matthew lying still as death in the back of the vehicle.
“I have to.”
Gloria reached out and laid a hand on Matthew’s arm. “Sweetie, the next time I see you, I expect you to give me a hug.”
“He will,” Isabella answered.
The ride to Sedona was as uneventful as Isabella could have hoped for. She monitored Matthew’s vital signs every twenty minutes and was satisfied that she wasn’t doing him any harm.
Most of the time, she talked to him, telling him what she had done and what she was going to do.
“Gloria helped me get you out of the hospital. I’m taking you to El Cayado. I know there’s a reason your spirit came there, and when we get your body there, too, we can unite the parts of you.”
It was a strange, one-way conversation.
At first she told herself that he wasn’t going to respond until she could wake him up. But as the hours dragged by, she began to worry. He hadn’t known her in the hospital. And then there was the detail that she didn’t want to think about: He’d stopped talking to her before she left the ranch. He’d said he wanted her to go back to her life. She would—with him. If she could convince him it was the right thing to do.
A bolt of fear shot through her. Was she really doing the right thing, or had she completely gotten this whole scenario wrong? Would she kill him instead of cure him?
No. She had to believe in what she was doing.
As they rode on through the night, she tried to quiet her doubts by praying.
And at least, there were no problems on the road. They made good time and arrived at the ranch around eight in the morning.
From there, Isabella had the driver take her as close to the vortex as he could manage.
She had just gotten out of the vehicle when a loud, whooping sound from above made her look up.
A helicopter was flying straight toward the ranch. Had Gloria changed her mind and called the police?
As she pressed her fist against her mouth and watched, the aircraft landed, kicking up red dust.
The minute it was on the ground, a man jumped out, wavering for a moment on his feet before rushing toward her. It was Frank Decorah. His eyes were blazing, and he had a gun in his hand, pointed at her.
“Hands in the air.”
CHAPTER NINE
Isabella stopped in her tracks.
“I said, hands in the air.”
She raised her hands. “What are you doing here?” she managed to ask.
“Following a hunch. I thought you might try to do something stupid. Matthew’s missing from Garrison Care. You’ve got him in that ambulance. Am I right?”
She answered with a little nod.
“He’s still alive?”
“Of course he’s still alive.”
“Matthew is a good man. I’m not going to let you kill him. He’s going back to Garrison Care, if it’s not too late. And you’re going to jail for kidnapping. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be murder. I’ve brought a doctor to ride back to L.A. with him.”
Isabella gasped. “You can’t take him back. I’m not going to kill him. I want to heal him.”
His expression hardened. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t heal him. He’s been unresponsive for five years. I get a report on him every month.”
“He’s unresponsive because his body and his soul are separated.”
“Oh right. You told that story to the nurse who helped you spring him from Garrison. What happened to your theory that his ghost was out
here at the ranch with you?”
“That was before you told me he was in a coma. But I talked to him here.” They’d done more than talk, but she was pretty sure telling the head of Decorah Security the details would only lower his opinion of her.
“Come on. We’ve leaving.”
She stiffened her legs. “Maybe you think I didn’t talk to Matthew, but it’s true. He told me that if I needed your help, I should remind you of something called Powder Keg.”
Decorah sucked in a sharp breath. “How do you know about Powder Keg?”
“I don’t. I only know Matthew said to mention it to you if I needed help. What is it?”
His gaze had turned inward. “I wouldn’t have believed that you talked to him,” he murmured. “But Powder Keg is the name of the operation where he was injured. I curse myself every day for letting my agents fall into the militia leader’s trap. Two men were killed. Matthew might as well have been.”
She kept her gaze fixed on Decorah. “And you feel responsible.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t bring the other men back, but you can make a difference for Matthew.”
“Go on.”
At least he was letting her argue her case. She swallowed hard and continued, “Eight years ago, when Matthew was guarding me, the two of us were in love with each other, even though neither of us was free to admit it. I think that drew him back to the ranch. Then I came here to hide out, and he attacked me. I mean, he was using the wind to slam me against the stable.
“When he realized it was me, he stopped, and he said my name. He kept coming back to me over the next day and a half, responding to me. The closer we got, the more real he seemed to me—and to himself. He remembered things like the raid. He thought he had been killed. We both thought that until you told me he’d been wounded.” She gave him a pleading look. “I think I can . . . help him come back all the way.”
“Or you were so off balance that you wished he was there and dreamed the whole thing.”
“Then how do I know about Powder Keg?”
He shook his head. “That’s the part I can’t figure out. The name of the operation was classified.”
“And I know it because he told it to me. To use with you. Please. Let me try to save him.”