by K. N. Casper
Ethan climbed behind the wheel of the three-quarter-ton pickup with Boyd sitting shotgun beside him. Kayla crawled into the backseat of the crew cab.
Switching on the radio, Ethan flipped through stations trying to find traffic news. They learned that there had been a sixteen-vehicle pileup involving a tank truck carrying hazardous chemicals. A large area around the cloverleaf intersection had already been evacuated and all traffic was being diverted. At least seven people had been killed and as many as thirty injured. The cause of the mishap was under investigation but was believed to be the result of a speeder cutting off the 18-wheeler. Casualties were being flown by helicopter to several hospitals in the San Antonio area.
Since Homestead was thirty miles outside the sprawling South Texas city, Ethan had more road options than if they were closer in, but those additional choices also added extra miles.
“I’ll have to take a very long way around,” he told his passengers. “Let’s hope other drivers aren’t using the same secondary roads.”
“How long will it take us?” Kayla remembered making the trip in less than forty-five minutes. The medical complex, she knew, was on the outskirts of the city.
“An hour and a half minimum, assuming there are no holdups along the way.”
She groaned. It sounded like forever.
Ethan flipped on his high beams. “Any idea what caused this attack?” he asked a minute later.
“I think I may know,” Boyd said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I DON’T HAVE ASTHMA,” Boyd explained to Ethan, “but my eyes have been itching like crazy lately. I asked the pharmacist when I was picking up my arthritis prescription the other day if he had any idea what could be causing it. I knew it wasn’t the medication, since I’ve been taking it for years.”
Kayla wished he’d get to the point.
“He said it might be pecan tassels.”
“Pecan tassels?” she asked, clearly bewildered.
“Pecan trees are in bloom right now,” Ethan explained. “Their blossoms are green tassels. You probably haven’t noticed them, but some people are highly allergic.”
He turned to Boyd. “I reckon you don’t have pecan trees in Oregon.”
“Nope, and I’ve never had this kind of allergic reaction before, either. I noticed when I was taking the kids home the other day that their school is surrounded by pecan trees.”
“That could explain why she was having such a hard time at school,” Kayla said. “But what about at home? We have a couple of pecan trees on our place, and she doesn’t seem to have a problem there.”
“Except today. Ours only started tasseling yesterday,” her father said.
Ethan nodded. “Probably a different variety. Later blooming.” He turned onto a farm-to-market road that wasn’t as wide as the ones they’d been traveling but was in good condition. It was also practically empty. Ethan pressed on the accelerator and leveled off ten miles above the speed limit. “I sure hope my deer whistle works,” he mumbled.
“And I hope that security system we installed works as advertised,” Boyd added.
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the medical center. It felt like midnight. The parking lot was packed, so Ethan dropped Kayla and her father off at the emergency entrance. Ten minutes later he entered the massive, brightly lit building. They were nowhere in sight. After a quick inquiry at the desk, however, he rode the elevator to the third floor.
He found Kayla and her father pacing a small alcove just beyond the nurses’ station. “What’s the news?” he asked.
“We’re waiting for the doctor now,” Boyd said.
“Why won’t they tell me anything?” Kayla cried.
Her semblance of calm was gone. She twisted her hands and bit her lips, on the verge of tears. Ethan instinctively wrapped his arms around her. She accepted the embrace hungrily, then backed off, as if she didn’t want to be comforted.
A woman in a white coat marched down the corridor, slowing only when she got within a few yards of them. She introduced herself as Dr. Louise Hernandez. “Let’s sit down.” She motioned them to the chairs against the wall.
Small and delicate, the physician pulled up one of the molded plastic chairs and sat directly in front of Kayla. She took her hand.
“Your daughter has been stabilized,” she said. “Getting her here so quickly undoubtedly saved her life, but we had to intubate her. She’s being treated now with respiratory medication as well as epinephrine and cordicosteroids to reduce the swelling in her airways and lungs.”
“But she’s going to be all right,” Kayla half stated, half asked.
“She’s in intensive care and being monitored very closely. I’m concerned that she may be developing pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia!” Kayla gasped. “But—”
“We’re doing everything we can to prevent that, but it could be several hours before we know for sure.”
“She will recover,” Boyd insisted.
“We’re doing everything we can.”
In other words, we don’t know.
Kayla covered her face with her hands and let out a ragged sob. Sitting beside her, Ethan put an arm around her, pressing her head to his shoulder.
“Shh. She’ll come through,” he said soothingly, and prayed he was right. “She’s tough.”
Kayla finally lifted her head, revealing raw, bloodshot eyes. “Can I see her?”
The doctor nodded. “I must warn you. She has a tube down her throat and there are machines monitoring her. I don’t want you to be shocked by what you see. Just remember we’re doing everything possible, and in spite of appearances, her chances are very good.”
“I just want to be with her,” Kayla said.
“Of course. She’s sleeping now, partly from the medication we’ve given her but also from exhaustion. She might still be able to hear you, though, so speak quietly to her, let her know you’re there and give her plenty of encouragement. That’s often the best medicine.”
Only one person at a time was allowed in the room. Ethan and Boyd stood outside and watched through a large window as Kayla took her daughter’s right hand and talked to her. They didn’t need to hear her to know Kayla was being upbeat. To see Kayla’s face was to know that beneath each syllable her heart was breaking.
So was Ethan’s.
“You saved her life,” Boyd said.
Ethan didn’t respond.
“Kayla told me about your relationship with Gallagher, yet you called him for help.”
“Wouldn’t you have?” Ethan asked.
“For my granddaughter? I’d call on the devil himself. But she’s not your kin.”
“Little girls don’t deserve to have bad things happen to them,” he muttered.
He loved Kayla, too, as he’d never loved any other woman. He’d given up having children of his own, but for the first time in his life he was seriously regretting his vow never to marry.
“Thank you,” Boyd said, his voice choked.
Ethan found himself embraced by the older man. Self-consciously they broke apart a minute later and continued to watch the scene inside intensive care.
Ten minutes passed. The doctor went in and tapped Kayla on the arm and invited her to step out. Kayla hesitated, but didn’t resist as she was led from the room.
“Doctor,” Ethan asked, when they were all together in the hallway again, “can you tell me what happened to Ski, the P.A. who came with Megan in the helicopter?”
“She went back on the chopper. I heard it was Senator Gallagher’s, that he flew them down here. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Ethan confirmed with a nod.
“Well, he saved Megan’s life.”
“We’ll always be grateful to him,” Ethan said.
* * *
EVEN IN HER DISTRAUGHT state, the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Kayla. Ethan had turned to the person he despised most for help, and now that person would be credited with saving Megan’s life. Not that
she wasn’t indebted to Gallagher. The state senator certainly deserved praise for acting quickly and unconditionally, but to Kayla the real credit would always belong to Ethan.
Perhaps she was being cynical, but it seemed to her Gallagher had had little choice in the matter. Rejecting such a plea would have been suicide for a politician. Ethan, on the other hand, had had to look beyond himself, beyond his hatred for the man. Then he’d had to swallow his pride and ask for help. That couldn’t have been easy, but he’d done it without hesitation.
The hours dragged by.
Kayla was allowed to visit Megan for a few minutes every hour, as was Boyd. Kayla wondered what the visits were costing her father, who managed to put on a positive face, but his eyes told a different story.
Kayla didn’t remember her mother, who’d been killed in a car crash when Kayla was two. She had no recollection of her six-year-old brother who’d been in the same accident, either. Jimmy had lingered on for several days before finally succumbing, as well. She learned later that her dad had sat by his hospital bed the entire time, never leaving, always hopeful that the boy would recover. This vigil must be torture for him, stirring up old memories.
He’d been a good dad to her. There had been times when she wished he’d been more affectionate, but she’d never doubted that he loved her. She told him that she loved him from time to time, but she didn’t gush. That kind of emotionalism would have embarrassed him. For him, saying it seemed to be enough, so she respected the boundaries he set.
The ICU nurse let Ethan in to see Megan once, too, and again Kayla wondered what seeing an eight-year-old in a hospital bed was doing to him.
He’d gone to Megan’s bedside smiling and chatty about Birdsong, about the pageant she was going to star in, about how her friend Heather was waiting for her so she could start loping. He’d come out smiling, confident, he asserted, that Megan was going to be just fine.
She loved him all the more for his bravery.
She sat down beside him in the waiting area, rested her head against his shoulder and woke up an hour later with a stiff neck. As he had that day on the Broken Spoke, he gently massaged the tight muscles with his strong hands. It felt so right as she turned into the pressure of his masterful fingers and warm caress.
At 6:00 a.m. Megan rallied, and the doctor removed the tube from her throat.
“The steroids and antibiotics did the trick,” Dr. Hernandez said, as if she’d known all along that everything was going to be all right. “We’ll continue to monitor her for a few more hours, but I think it’s safe to say the crisis has passed.”
They went in to see the patient. “We can release you in a few hours, young lady,” the doctor said.
“Does that mean I can go home?” Megan asked, her voice raspy. “I don’t like being here.”
Kayla smiled. “Yes, honey, we’ll be going home soon.”
“I’ll give you a prescription for steroids that she can continue to take orally,” the physician told Kayla. “If you notice any deterioration in her condition, contact the Homestead clinic at once. Kristin will be back from her training course on Monday.”
“How long will she have to take the steroids?” Kayla asked, concerned about their long-term effect on her daughter.
“A few weeks is all. We want to make sure she doesn’t have a relapse. If your suspicion is correct, that pecan pollen is the problem, that ought to be enough. By then the blooming season will be over. Don’t assume, though, that that’s the culprit or the sole cause. It could be a combination of things that don’t pose serious problems in themselves. I know you do it anyway, but try to see what’s different that could have triggered this crisis.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
At noon Megan was discharged from the hospital. The four of them climbed into Ethan’s truck for the drive home, a journey that took less than half as long as the night before. The highway had been cleared. In fact, there was no indication at the junction of the two major highways that anything had even happened.
* * *
MEGAN SNOOZED ON the ride back to Homestead, and so did the rest of Ethan’s passengers. As he moved along with the flow of traffic, his thoughts kept returning to Kayla’s proposal—that they get married to adopt Heather and Brad. A marriage of convenience.
He’d rejected her. But that was before Megan had come close to death, and he’d been reminded once more how sacred life was.
Now he was having second thoughts, not just as a way of rescuing the two foster children, but for more selfish reasons. He felt as close to Kayla and Megan as he’d ever felt to anyone. He also recognized he didn’t want a false relationship, a mere business arrangement. He’d been honest when he told her he couldn’t play house and then just walk away, as if they were props in a game. What he hadn’t been as candid about was that he couldn’t endure a facade of intimacy without going mad.
Now he knew that wouldn’t be necessary. He’d never felt for any woman what he felt for Kayla, but she’d asked for a marriage of convenience. Did that mean she wasn’t interested in a true marriage with him, a permanent partnership?
Would she be willing to marry a man who couldn’t give her more children? It didn’t seem fair to her, yet, he decided, maybe he ought to give her the chance to tell him.
He considered making a proposal of his own, but in a pickup with her father and daughter present didn’t seem like the appropriate place or time.
“I’m hungry,” Megan announced from the backseat as he turned onto Bluebonnet Street.
He laughed. “I guess that means you’re better.” Kayla and her father both stretched.
“Ethan, if you’ll drop me at the clinic, I’ll pick up my car,” Kayla said. “I can also thank Ski and Max for everything they did. I think there’s still time for me to have Megan’s prescription filled at the drugstore.” Dr. Hernandez had given her enough medication to get them through the weekend.
“Okay, but here’s another suggestion. I’ll drop you and Megan off while Grandpa and I go to the DQ and pick up a sack of burgers.”
“Good idea,” Boyd said. “My treat.”
“Can I have a cheeseburger with French fries?” Megan pleaded.
“And onion rings?” Kayla chimed in.
“Seems like everybody’s hungry.” Ethan caught Kayla’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Meet you at the house?”
She nodded. “In about half an hour.”
He dropped them off in front of the clinic, waved goodbye and pulled away, missing them already but also feeling strangely happy. Early Saturday afternoon, the Dairy Queen was crowded. Kayla and Megan were already home by the time he and Boyd rolled up the driveway.
Megan was definitely her old self, chattering on the phone while her mother distributed napkins and paper plates.
“Can I ride Birdsong today?” Megan asked after her first greedy bite of food. “I missed my lessons on Wednesday and Friday.”
“Not today, honey. Let’s make sure you’re completely well before we expose you to horses.”
Megan didn’t seem surprised by the answer, though she gave Ethan a pleading look that begged him to run interference for her. When he didn’t, she shrugged and took another bite of her cheeseburger.
After they finished, Kayla retrieved the brown plastic pill bottle from the kitchen counter and fought with the childproof cap.
“Dr. Hernandez said for you to take your pills right after eating.” She held out a tablet in the palm of her hand. “You can take this with the rest of your milk.”
Megan frowned. “Is it yucky?”
“It’s just a regular white pill, honey. I bet you won’t even taste it.”
Turning up her nose, Megan placed it on her tongue and drank her milk. She was making a gagging sound that no one believed was real when they heard a vehicle pull up in front of the house.
While Kayla tried to convince Megan she needed to go to her room with one of her favorite books and take a nap, Ethan cleared the table of greasy pap
er plates and napkins, and Boyd answered the doorbell.
A man’s deep voice drew Ethan to the living room, where Kayla and Megan joined him a few seconds later. Sheriff Montgomery tipped his hat to Kayla.
“Glad to see you’re back, young lady,” he said to Megan. “Heard you got to ride in Senator Gallagher’s helicopter last night.”
“It was cool,” she said. “He was real nice, too. He told me I could go flying with him again if I want to.”
That was news to Kayla. Megan hadn’t mentioned a thing about the flight. Kayla had assumed it was because she didn’t remember it or hadn’t paid any attention.
“What brings you out here, Sheriff?” she asked. “Have you found whoever poisoned my vineyard?”
“Afraid not, but we’re still working on it. I was wondering if you folks might have seen Brad Estes or know where he could be.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s disappeared, gone missing.”
Megan’s eyes grew wide and she moved to her mother and hugged her waist.
“When did this happen?” Ethan asked.
“Leona Rayborn called my office this morning around nine, said she’d just checked the boy’s room but he wasn’t there, and the other kids didn’t know where he was. She searched the house and called the neighbors but nobody’s seen him.”
“Why would he run away?” Kayla asked. Had he found out the Rayborns would be leaving Homestead?
“Seems the boy got a call yesterday from his daddy—”
“I thought his father was in prison.”
“Got released last week,” Wade said. “Called the boy, told him he and the kid’s mom had gotten together again and that they were coming to take him home.”
“Oh, no,” Kayla exclaimed, for the moment forgetting her daughter was clinging on to her. “Is it true?”
“We’re checking now.”
“How did he know where Brad was?” Ethan asked.
“Best we can figure, he called Child Protective Services, told whoever answered he was the boy’s father and had just returned from a military assignment overseas and had lost the boy’s current address.”