by Lyn Stone
After several futile attempts to wake Ford, she gave up. The one bright note in all that had happened was that he felt noticeably cooler. Maybe her homemade concoction was helping a little, but he wasn’t out of danger. Far from it.
She started to call Mr. Knoblett, but noticed the battery light blinking. How long did she have? If she switched off the power, would it come back on when she was ready to make the call? No time to doodle around. She would simply call Information, ask for the number of the FBI in Memphis.
Then the word below one of the tiny buttons jumped right out at her. Redial! Of course! The call Ford had made to Michael Duvek was the last one made. Relief swept through her as she quickly punched the button and held the phone to her ear.
“C‘mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she chanted.
“That you, Devereaux?” the gruff voice demanded.
“Oh, thank God! Mr. Duvek?” Mary asked tentatively.
A silence fell. For a moment, Mary feared the phone’s battery had died.
“Who is this?” the voice asked.
“Mary Shaw. Mr. Duvek, Ford—Agent Devereaux—has been seriously injured. He’s running a high fever and we need for you to send medical help immediately. I’m afraid tetanus or something has set in.”
“Just calm down, ma‘am. Where are y’all, exactly?” he asked. “Ford wasn’t real specific when he called.”
“Send a helicopter to Knoblett’s store,” she instructed, giving him precise directions a child could follow, hurrying in the event the battery died before she could finish.
“So you’re at this store now?” he asked.
“No, no! That’s just the closest place you can land. We’re in the woods about six miles north of there, in my grandfather’s hunting cabin. You’ll have to come in on foot. Please bring a doctor or medic. I am so worried about him!”
“Of course you are. You relax now, ma’am. Just stay right where you are and we’ll come and get you.”
“All right. Thank you, Mr. Duvek. Ford trusts you, you know.”
“Does he, now? Well, that’s nice to know. I just wish he’d told me where you were before now.”
“A few minutes ago, he instructed me to call and tell you. Then he passed out again and I can’t seem to wake him up. Will you please hurry?”
He chuckled. Mary thought it a strange reaction to her desperation. A sense of unease bore down on her, adding weight to what she already felt.
“You can bet on it,” he said softly. “I’ll be there just as soon as I possibly can.”
Mary pushed the off button and sank back on the edge of the mattress where Ford slept. Thank God. Soon it would be over and Ford would be in a hospital getting antibiotics. And Michael Duvek would find her a safe place to stay, far away from Nashville..
But even visions of a hot shower and a nutritious meal couldn’t dispel the niggling fear that something was dreadfully wrong. Something other than Ford’s condition.
Should she wake Ford and try to get him into his clothes? He wore nothing except a pair of navy-blue briefs. She hadn’t had the strength to keep dressing and undressing him when she’d had to cool his body by bathing him so often.
Maybe he would wake again before Agent Duvek and the medic came. How long did it take to fly from Memphis?
She spent a while trying to calculate that, but finally gave it up. The speed of a helicopter wasn’t the only thing she would have to consider. Agent Duvek needed to make arrangements for the rescue, then fly here and land at Mr. Knoblett’s. After that, the rescuers would have to make it through the woods. She knew very well how difficult and time-consuming that could be.
Instead of just sitting around, she decided to wake Ford and try to get him to drink more of the willow-bark tea. It certainly hadn’t hurt him, even if it hadn’t helped much. She poured more hot water over the bark in the cup and covered it to steep.
When Mary raised his head, Ford opened his eyes. “Wh-what is it?” he asked.
“Tea,” she replied, and smiled down at him. “I know it’s not very good, but I think it helped reduce your fever. How do you feel?”
“Like somebody tied me to a truck bumper and drove forty miles.” He managed a swallow and made a face. “Cure-or-kill stuff.” His voice sounded gravelly and his breath came in short huffs, but she couldn’t tell if his lungs were affected or if it was simply caused by the pain. “Weak,” he added. “What day is it?”
“Friday,” Mary said, setting the cup aside and urging him to lie back again.
“Duvek!” He felt around for the phone. “I need to call him.”
“You did,” Mary assured him. “You called on Wednesday, just as you told him you would. And I just talked to him a few minutes ago.”
“Thought I dreamed that. I told you to?”
“He’s coming. Should be here in a few hours, maybe a little longer. Remember they have to make it overland those six miles or so.” Mary patted his good shoulder gently. “Why don’t you just rest until they come for us. You seem better.”
“Coffee,” Ford ordered. “I need to be coherent, and my brain feels like a damn helium balloon.”
“No coffee!” She wasn’t sure if he should have caffeine.
He didn’t waste strength arguing. Instead, he tried to get up, probably intent on fixing it himself.
“All right, then! You win. Lie down and I’ll get it.” She left him there and went to find the jar of instant brew. Before she reached the fireplace and the pot of hot water, she heard his steady breathing and knew he slept again.
Men They could be at death’s door—which was exactly where she’d thought he was an hour ago—and the testosterone just kept on pumping like the Energizer bunny. They couldn’t admit when they were down, especially not in front of other men.
She looked at him, happy to see that some of his color had returned. His recent exertion probably deserved more credit for that than any real improvement in his condition. Ford remained very ill, and Mary feared he might lose the arm.
“If only you weren’t such a wild man,” she whispered softly. “I’d really love to keep you.”
A smile pulled at her lips as she remembered Ford standing right here in the altogether, wearing nothing but her bra wrapped around his arm. Laughing at himself and at her.
The memory heated her body clear through. Maybe she should have made love with him again. One more time, before they said goodbye. Life certainly would prove dull without him around, she admitted to herself.
Mary felt as though she had lived an entire lifetime since she’d met him. Had it been only a week? A week today, she reflected. Just about this time in the afternoon, he had hauled her right out of her classroom and onto this dangerous roller-coaster ride. Now it was winding down and she would get off, head still spinning, heart thumping ninety miles an hour, an experience to recall and shiver over even after she grew old and gray.
She would never forget the man who had sheltered her, the one who had kept her alive to recall it. And she would also remember how much she had grown to love him in the seven days they’d spent together.
Mary heaved a huge sigh of regret for the farewells as yet unsaid, and curled herself next to him on the mattress. She missed him already.
Chapter 14
Ford knew Mary was gone before he opened his eyes. Westy’s snore provided the only sound in the cabin. Mary had gone out without the dog. Little idiot.
No, he wouldn’t even think any insults in her direction. That girl—woman, rather—had saved his life.
Even if he hadn’t done so by choice, Ford felt guilty that he had left her to fend for herself—and him—for several days now. He cursed the bizarre accident that had landed him here, wrapped in a damned sleeping bag and as weak as a baby.
And there she was, slipping around on the ice outside, doing God knew what. Something that needed doing to keep their bodies and souls together, he’d bet on that
She was no idiot. Neither was she the dainty little cupcake he’d tho
ught she was at first. Mary had more courage and more initiative than anyone he knew. He doubted even Molly would have been able to cope with all Mary had faced these past few days. Nan would have freaked out from the word go.
He loved Mary. There was just no getting around it. Maybe he would get up the nerve to approach her again about that when all the dust had settled on this case. Until then, he would be her friend, as she wanted him to. He hadn’t much choice in the matter the way things stood right now. But later...
He was still weak, but at least he felt a lot better today. Not well, by a long shot, but able to take some of the load off her shoulders.
“Mary!” he called, hoping she had just stepped out for a minute.
His voice came out raspy and weak from disuse. He pushed himself to a sitting position, cleared his throat and shouted, putting more force behind it.
The old body still ached all over, and his arm felt as if someone had run a fiery spike through the muscle there. But his head seemed clear enough. He found he could sit up without getting too dizzy.
Much to his relief, the door opened and Mary rushed in, several pieces of firewood balanced on one arm. Even bundled up as she was, she looked good enough to eat, her nose and cheeks rosy from the cold, and her eyes bright with energy.
“Hi!” she said, smiling with delight “You look much better today! I really have missed that scowl.”
He huffed. “I’d have a spanking to go with it if I could turn you over my knee. What the hell are you doing, running around outside without Westy? What good is a damned guard dog if you leave him snoozing by the fire?”
Her laughter warmed the room as she strode to the fireplace and dumped the wood beside it. “Trust me, he’s better at snoozing than guarding.” Westy gave a halfhearted bark at the disturbance and then resettled his head on his paws.
“That’s the laziest hound I’ve ever seen,” he remarked. “Good-for-nothing rascal. I think Knoblett left him here just so he wouldn’t have to feed him.”
She patted the old dog’s head and scratched under his ears. Westy smiled. “But he’s so sweet. Good company, too.”
Great lot of help that would be in a scrape, Ford thought, but he didn’t bother to argue about it. “It’s getting dark,” he observed, nodding toward the window.
“And warmer!” she commented, slapping her hands together to clean off the residue of bark. “Above freezing now, for certain. The ice melted today wherever the sun struck it, and the rest should be gone tomorrow. Agent Duvek’s people should have been here by now, don’t you think?” She glanced worriedly at the door.
Ford remembered then. Mary had called Duvek to come and get them. “What time is it now, and what time did you call?” he asked.
She tossed him his watch. “Nearly five and getting dark. I called around one o’clock.”
“They might wait until morning. The woods are treacherous going at night.”
“Tell me about it,” she said wryly. “Surely they’ll come as soon as they can. I emphasized how ill you were to Agent Duvek and he promised he would hurry.”
Ford rolled his eyes and blew out a breath between his teeth. “Oh, great. Just the thing I’d want my boss to hear. Put out of commission by a damned tree limb. After this, I’ll be lucky if he lets me sit at a desk and answer phones.”
With major effort, he pushed himself to his feet. Mary jumped up and quickly covered his shoulders with the abandoned sleeping bag. “You want to catch your death? Where do you think you’re going?”
“Bathroom,” he said, grinning. “Want to come supervise?”
“Will you be all right?” she asked fretfully, ignoring his joking offer. “I could help you to the door like I did before.”
Ford shook his head. “No problem.” Mary must be genuinely concerned or she would have thought of some ready comeback. He liked that she worried about him, whether he warranted it or not. He liked it better, however, when she didn’t frown that way, when she talked back to him and gave as good as she got.
His bare feet nearly froze to the floor as he trudged through the bedroom. God, how great it would be to have hot water right now. He supposed he should be thankful he didn’t have to brave snow and ice in this condition to get to an outhouse.
He entered the tiny closet of a room, not intending to spend any more time in the chilly little place than he had to. The only thing operational was the john. He wished there was a working sink or shower so he could wash. He hated to greet the boss looking like Swamp Thing, even if he did feel like it.
He hurried back to the fire and collapsed on the mattress. Bless her heart, Mary had spread out his things on the hearth. She had found his comb and toothbrush, and had poured steaming water in a shallow dishpan so he could wash. One of his T-shirts lay folded beside it for use as a towel.
She and Westy had gone outside for a walk, he supposed.
In a matter of minutes, Ford had cleaned himself up as best he could. The beard felt scuzzy and looked worse, but he could live with it. Had done that for weeks on end, once upon a time. In spite of everything, he felt better than he had in several days.
Mary returned without the dog. “Westy’s exploring,” she explained, plopping down beside him so that her hip rested next to his. She bundled the downy sleeping bag around him and tucked it against his neck. At her touch, the old energy level shot up with a vengeance, despite his recent exertion.
Firelight flickered on her face, turning the ivory of her skin to gold. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“I really thought you might die,” she said softly. “And I wasn’t sure what I should do.”
This closeness of hers definitely wasn’t a good idea if she wanted things to stay platonic. He smiled up at her. “If you only knew how I feel right now...”
“Aw, looking for sympathy?” she asked, grinning and shaking her head. “Too late. I’ve already cured you with my evil willow-bark brew.”
“A nasty potion it was, too,” he said, making a face. “Gagged on the stuff, but I guess it must have helped. Proud of yourself, are you?”
She raised one eyebrow and pursed her lips, tossing her hair and preening comically. “You see before you a true witch of the woodlands. A healer. A priestess of Mother Earth. Am I handy, or what?”
“Oh, smugness becomes her!” Ford said with a chuckle and a leer. He reached out and drew his fingers along her cheek, twining a loose strand of her hair around one finger, pulling her closer. “You are a little witch, all right. Your spell is working like a charm.”
Mary drew away, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and shifted the subject. “Well, I’m glad your boss is bringing medical help. The fever’s lessened, but I’ll be honest with you—that arm is still a mess.”
Her description certainly understated what it felt like, Ford thought. He had shaken the kinks out of the rest of his body once he’d gotten up a while ago, but the arm throbbed like the very devil.
He shifted, trying to get comfortable, covering the resulting stab of pain with an unrelated question. “Did Duvek say anything about Blevins or Perry?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. I’m sure he’ll fill you in when he gets here.”
“Where’s the phone? I’ll call him now. The office will patch me through to his cellular.”
“Can’t,” Mary said. “Battery’s dead.”
“Completely?”
“It was blinking red and cutting out when I was speaking to Duvek. Why don’t you just wait?”
“Might as well,” Ford agreed. He could hardly hold his eyes open anyway, and there was nothing he could do about the situation with Blevins and Perry, whatever it was.
“Go on back to sleep now,” Mary suggested, soothing him with her words, crooning just as she would to a baby. “You need your rest.”
“You’ve got the softest voice,” he muttered through a lazy smile. “‘Song of the South.’ What a lullaby.” Instead of lulling him into a restful sleep, however, the timbre of her words led him direct
ly into a half-sleep sweetened by memory-enhanced fantasies.
Mary felt a pang of tenderness. She brushed a hand over his cheek, feeling the roughness of several days’ growth of beard. She knew she shouldn’t touch him when she didn’t have to, but she just couldn’t help it.
He could be so sweet at times. Most times, really. Underneath all that teasing and blustering, beat the heart of an old-fashioned gentleman. He just couldn’t hide it, no matter how hard he tried.
What would he be like under normal conditions, when he wasn’t fighting to keep them alive? Would he be a candy-and-roses kind of man? No, not Ford. His gifts would arrive at unexpected times, silly remembrances meant to make her laugh, or sentimental things to make her cry.
Even in circumstances like this, Ford showed a sort of gallantry. He considered her comfort and safety first, naturally, without making a big to-do of it or expecting thanks. And yet, he didn’t seem threatened when she asserted herself. He admired her when she did. She could see it m his eyes.
Mary wished she could meet the woman who had taught Ford his manners. She pictured a self-assured Amazon—who wouldn’t let much get by her, but had an abundance of love for her rambunctious offspring.
That was probably why Ford had no trouble at all showing affection. He touched, he hugged and praised—gestures that were not always sexual, though he certainly excelled at those when he wanted to. His openness and ready humor drew her to him even more powerfully than did his good looks and sensuality. She would probably love him even if he were ugly.
Love him? Did she really? Or was she merely infatuated with Ford because her life depended on him and his ability to get her through this trying time?
Mary put another log on the fire, then lay down beside him to enjoy his warmth and nearness. This might be the last time they would have together.
He had asked to see her when they returned “to the world,” as he called civilization, but Mary knew he didn’t really mean it. It was like those people who met in singles bars, had a one-night stand and said, “See you around.” She and Ford had come all too close to establishing something deeper than a quick fling, and they both knew it. But once they left here, she doubted she would ever see or hear from him again.