The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  “Could there be someone who didn’t get reported?” he asked the radioman. Garrett held his breath.

  “Nope. The hospitals know who they admitted.”

  “Is it possible someone didn’t need admitting? I mean, if she wasn’t injured?”

  The volunteer on the radio shook his head. “They were all wet and banged up. Even if they were only treated in Emergency, the hospital logged a name.”

  Garrett’s heart plummeted. Did that mean Sherry was still on board? The first man had said a spunky mom, a hysterical one and the bus driver were the only adults left. Of course, he’d have no way of knowing Sherry wasn’t some kid’s mom. It’d be like her to stay if she thought she could help. Somehow Garrett knew she wasn’t the hysterical woman—and that left the “spunky” one. His heart swelled with pride, although he didn’t have a right. She was a treasure, and he’d been a fool.

  The owner of the four-wheel-drive vehicle touched Garrett’s shoulder. “My daughter, Phillip’s girl, and Henry’s son are on the list. We’re driving on up to St. Louis. Since Keith’s there, too, I imagine you’ll want to ride along.”

  Garrett was torn. Keith must be frightened and he could be hurt. Garrett had a burning need to go with the men and check his son’s fingers and toes as he had done at birth. But if Sherry was still stuck with the other kids, she might need him more. Keith, at least, was safe and in the hands of medical personnel.

  “A lady I care about hasn’t been accounted for. Would you find Keith there and tell him I’ll be along as soon as I can?”

  “I will. But what about transportation, Lock?”

  “I’ll catch a ride on one of the rescue rigs. Either that, or on the other bus. Looks as if they plan to wait out the rescue here.”

  “Well, good luck. You better believe I won’t be so quick to sign one of those permission slips the next time.”

  “You and me both.” Swamped by second thoughts, Garrett nevertheless jogged over to where two men were getting ready to launch one of the motorized rubber boats. “I think my lady is stranded on that bus. You have room for me?” Until he so possessively claimed Sherry, Garrett hadn’t realized it was precisely how he felt about her. His lady. Now, if he could just be granted the opportunity to tell her, maybe everything would be right with his world again. He would get the opportunity. He refused to think otherwise.

  The boatmen took one look at Garrett’s determined face and made room. “Lose the vest and tie, buddy,” said one. “Hope you’re not the queasy type. That ol’ bus is on mighty shaky ground. She could topple anytime.”

  “No,” said Garrett, as if by force of his will it would stay afloat.

  When they docked downstream, he saw that the situation was worse than he’d imagined. The bus, clinging to the shoal by who knew what, rocked and teetered in the gusty wind.

  “We’re trying to snag the front end with a grappling hook to hold the bus in place,” announced a very wet policeman, one of a small force on the riverbank. “The current’s too swift. Keeps tossing it back at us. We’re worried about sending boats in. Afraid the force of the river will smack them against the bus and push her off that shoal.”

  “You know who’s on board yet?” Garrett could see outlines through the foggy windows, but not clearly enough to make out anyone in particular.

  “Three women and about ten kids. Bus driver probably has a fractured leg. She refuses to bail out until all the kids are safe. One lady has a cool head. Sent the injured kids out with the first teams. The ones who’re left are in better shape. Sorta. The other adult is frantic. Her kid refused to jump earlier. She wouldn’t leave the little girl.”

  “Better shape, but scared witless.” Garrett heard sobbing even as faraway as they were. “Can I borrow that?” He pointed to a bullhorn another man was holding.

  “Sure.” The man handed it over.

  “Sherry! Sherilyn, it’s Garrett. If you’re on the bus, signal me, please.”

  Sherry’s breath bunched and her throat closed. The tears she’d held at bay up to now gathered behind her eyelids. Why was he here? Didn’t he know Keith had gotten out? She wanted to shout but was afraid to in case the noise dislodged the bus. Carefully she edged to the open window and waved at the group of rescue workers. Was it her imagination or had the water risen? Why couldn’t she remember if it’d come to the rim of the window before? She felt a jiggle and heard a sickening groan. The bus rocked wildly. Sherry stopped waving. She held her breath and waited for the bus to break loose and be at the mercy of the torrential river again. Luckily it held.

  From the minute he saw her wave, a cold purpose replaced Garrett’s fear. “Look, if you can’t shoot that grapple out to the bus, why not swim it out?”

  “Are you nuts?” A fireman shook his head. “The eddy’s too fierce. It’d suck a man down. Unless you’re a Navy Seal?” His voice filled with hope.

  “An experienced hiker is all.” Garrett paced the shore, feeling inept and frustrated by the rampaging water. He watched in silence as yet another attempt to launch the grappling hook fell short. It sank like a rock in the massive whirlpool. Retrieving it was no easy task. It kept catching on weeds.

  “Look, we can’t just stand here and watch them sink, too. How about if I lash a rope around my waist so you can pull me back? Once I reach the eddy, shoot the grapple. I’ll find it and hook it to the bus.”

  “Might work, but it’s pretty risky.” Two men consulted for a minute. “You’d have to stay clear, yet be close enough to reach the hook. Need to connect it to the front axle. Otherwise, tension from the winch will rip hunks out of the bus.”

  The rescue-team organizer shook his head. “It’s too chancy. That bus could go at any time and the weight’d crush anyone in the vicinity. I can’t be responsible for sending you or any other man on such a dangerous task.”

  “Then I’ll be responsible.” Garrett stripped off his watch, his jacket and his shirt. He snatched the bullhorn again. “Sherry, honey, I’m swimming out to attach the hook to the bus. If anything happens to me—” his voice faded, then grew stronger “—be there for Keith.” Dropping the horn, he looped a rope through his belt and took the plunge. The shock of the cold water almost did him in. He made it to the eddy by sheer force of will and discovered that another rescuer had followed.

  Sherry steepled her fingers over her mouth to keep from crying out. Blood thundered in her ears. What Garrett had said sounded like a declaration of love. But maybe she’d read too much into it. People said and did things under duress they wouldn’t ordinarily. “Erica...kids,” she whispered through her tears. “Let’s sing a happy song for those men out there.”

  And they did. They sang “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” The warbling voices reached Garrett’s ears. He focused every ounce of his energy, imagining Christmas with Sherilyn, Keith and Rags. He conjured up a crackling fire in the grate and saw Sherry and Keith smile as they opened gifts. His partner signaled for the grapple. It sailed through the air, landing five feet from Garrett. It took both men to lift it. Three times they tried to connect with the axle. Three times the bus shifted and groaned, and the current drove them away.

  “Won’t work,” shouted the second man.

  “One more try,” begged Garrett.

  A last-ditch effort. Despite their shivering, they hooked the grapple to a front fender. Weakly they signaled for those on shore to reel them in.

  That crew didn’t waste any time. While Garrett and the second man were hauled back, others launched two motorized rubber rafts. Their attempt to rescue the remaining kids as they had the others failed. The rafts were too unstable to hover long enough for Sherry and Erica to slide kids down a rope. After four tries, they only managed to transfer two girls into the arms of the frantic boatmen.

  Blood flow restored to his chilled limbs thanks to thermal blankets, Garrett paced the shor
e. “If Sherry slid kids down the rope to a man stationed in the water,” he said, “they might get wet, but that guy could pass them out to the boats. I’m game,” he added.

  “Yeah,” said his wet pal. “Alternate boats. Work a round-robin deal, bringing kids ashore two at a time before they get hypothermia.”

  “What about you?” demanded the team leader. “You’ll freeze.”

  “I’m all ears if you’ve got a better plan,” Garrett said, steely-voiced.

  A newcomer sloshed up. “I have two wetsuits in my four-by-four. If the swimmers wear them, they could stay in the river longer and with less danger.”

  “Nelson, what took you so long getting through the brush?” said the coordinator. “We only have one volunteer for this crazy scheme. Do we have two?”

  Several hands shot up. The chief tagged a young fireman.

  Garrett donned the clammy wetsuit and boarded the first of the small boats. About eight feet from the bus, he slid into the freezing water and let it carry him over to the bus. Pumped on adrenaline, he ignored the wind and rain. Rescue efforts went smoothly until his partner handed off the last child and they were left with the three adults—none of whom fit through the window they’d been using as an escape hatch. And the driver had a possible broken leg. The only way the adults could possibly get out would be if they opened the bus door. And the minute they did that, the bus would fill with water, upsetting its tenuous balance.

  Precious time ticked away while both boats made a trip to shore and back again. Garrett’s teeth clattered. He felt what little body heat he’d conserved slipping away. The first of the yellow rafts was a stone’s throw away when Garrett heard a giant rending, like the sound of a train squealing into a station. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the hook, which held by a single prong, had bent the fender out of shape.

  Garrett’s heart slammed in his chest. To get this close and then not rescue the woman he loved was unthinkable.

  “You ladies get out the door fast and swim toward us,” the other rescuer yelled.

  “Garrett.” Sherry’s white face appeared at the window. A window through which water now sloshed over and into the bus. “Mary Jones, our driver, is hurt, and Erica Hanover can’t swim.”

  Garrett heard fright nibbling away at Sherry’s courage. “Hang tough a little longer, babe,” he said through lips barely able to form the words. “The minute the door opens, shove Mary out. I’ll get her into the first boat. My pal will catch Erica. You shoot right behind her. Swim away from the bus as hard as you can and tread water. I’ll come back for you.” He waited for an answer, not positive he had the strength left to pull any of it off. “Sherry?”

  “Y-yes,” she answered. “I’m getting rid of my skirt and boots.” She didn’t tell him she thought she might have broken a rib when she’d heaved the last sturdy boy out the window. Garrett’s skin looked blue. He didn’t need extra stress.

  “Okay. Ladies, prepare for a shock. The river’s like the Arctic.” Even as he said it, the rain turned to sleet. “When we count to three, open the door.”

  As if they’d choreographed the scene a hundred times, Sherry followed his instructions. Mary first. Garrett got her in a fireman’s hold. His buddy picked up Erica and swam for the second rubber boat. All might have gone like clockwork if Garrett had been able to boost Mary Jones into the craft as planned. The woman, still fully clothed, simply weighed too much for his tired muscles.

  The men in the craft worked diligently to lift her. It proved impossible. In the end, they sped away holding her fast to the side. Garrett had heard Sherry hit the water seconds behind Erica but didn’t see where she’d gone while he struggled with the injured driver. As he frantically searched the water around a third craft, a flimsy motorboat he hadn’t seen before, a louder noise claimed his sluggish attention. A horrendous screech, a huge sucking sound followed by a loud pop. Garrett saw a fender, severed from the body of the bus, sail through the air over his head. He automatically ducked under the water.

  As though from a distance, he heard warning cries from the boat. In spite of the fact that his arms had grown heavy, he surfaced and spotted Sherry’s head bobbing in the water. He was so overjoyed to see her he ignored the hiss of the grappling hook that, when freed, snaked the length of the rope. He saw it strike Sherilyn’s shoulder.

  She and the hook sank without a sound.

  Garrett bellowed like a bull as the river sucked her down. A red splash of blood arced across Sherry’s white T-shirt moments before she slipped from his limited view. Fighting off the hands reaching to haul him into the small motorboat, Garrett lunged over to where he’d last seen Sherry. But he hadn’t allowed for the widening whirlpool now gobbling up the bus. Each breath he took burned like fire as he dove below the murky brown water.

  The men on the boat kept yelling at him to give up. “Come on!” they shouted. “It’s too late for the woman. Save yourself!”

  They all urged him to stop except for the man who’d helped Garrett rescue the kids. He stripped off a down jacket and dived in again. He forcefully boosted Garrett over the side into the aluminum craft and discovered that Garrett’s fingers were twisted into the fabric of the woman’s soggy T-shirt. A second rescuer went over the side to assist his teammate.

  Several pair of hands worked to pry Garrett’s fingers loose. “Let go,” growled a ragged voice. “Trust Johnson and Stroud to get your wife into the boat.”

  Wife! She wasn’t, Garrett’s fuzzy brain responded. But he loved her and he couldn’t let go. He clung even after the other two men rolled her in. They motored to shore as they had done with the bus driver.

  The boat struggled to land with its heavy load. Three more men hit the water to help. Finally, one hauled out a knife and cut Garrett loose from the woman he held in a viselike grip.

  Garrett grinned like a fool when at last they tumbled a sodden Sherry into his arms. His joy fled the minute he saw her face—ghostly white and still as death. In spite of first aid rendered on the spot, the jagged cut that ran from Sherry’s shoulder to midway down her spine continued to ooze blood.

  Medics loaded them into ambulances. They worked to staunch the flow of Sherry’s blood while trying to bring up her temperature. And Garrett’s.

  The sleet, pelting down now in fine white crystals, slicked the roadways and made the drive to the hospital interminable and treacherous.

  Garrett huddled under a thermal blanket, shivering in spite of the hot fluids the medics forced him to drink. He doubted he’d ever be warm again. Sherilyn hadn’t moved. It wasn’t fair. She’d saved the children. How could fate then turn and steal her away? How would he face Keith? What could he possibly say to a kid who, against his father’s expressed edict, had innocently talked her into coming on this death trip?

  The medic thrust another steaming cup of hot boullion into Garrett’s red hands. “Her vitals are weak. But she’s exhibiting a strong will to live. Talk to her. We aren’t sure an unconscious person can hear. Some researchers believe they can.”

  Garrett scooted closer. “I love you,” he said softly. “Keith loves you. Help me out here, lady. Don’t you dare let go.” He bent over and kissed her icy lips.

  The female medic who checked the electrodes connected to Sherry’s chest smiled at Garrett. “Keep saying what you’re saying. Her pulse is getting stronger.”

  So he kept up a litany of love-talk, at which he’d always been terrible. At long last the medical vehicle pulled beneath the portico of one of St. Louis’s finest hospitals. Then trauma teams whisked Sherry in one direction and him in another.

  By the time technicians had checked and released Garrett, who had no lingering ill effects, he’d wearied of asking questions about Sherry and getting no answers. He might be a hero, and the nursing staff all claimed he was, but one thing he wasn’t—official kin to Sherilyn Campbell. That cold
hard fact precluded his getting any information whatsoever. After he’d produced ID, a nurse led him to Keith. She claimed they were inundated with TV cameras and reporters and had to be careful who they let in to see the victims.

  Keith hugged his dad and asked tearfully, “Have you seen Sherry?”

  “She’s here. But they’ll only tell her family how she is, son.”

  “Then call Nolan or Sherry’s mom and dad. Are...are you mad ’cause I asked her when you said I shouldn’t?”

  “I’m not mad, Keith. Still, there’ll be consequences for disobeying.”

  “Okay. But, Dad, if she’s hurt bad it’s my fault.”

  “No. She came because she loves you, Keith. We’ll find out how she is.” Garrett picked up the phone and dialed Sherry’s folks. They couldn’t believe she’d been in the wreck that headlined local news. “We’re coming to St. Louis,” Nan said. “We’re leaving now.”

  “No one will tell me a thing,” he complained.

  “Tell them you’re her fiancé,” Nan suggested. “That worked for me when we were in college and Ben suffered a football injury.”

  Garrett coughed and sat down to steady his legs.

  “Well, for pity’s sake, Garrett, I know you love her. And last night in a dream, I saw her standing at the altar of our church in a wedding gown. It wasn’t coincidence that the groom looked a lot like you.”

  “That’d be a long shot, Nan. Right now I just want her well.”

  “Long shot? Nolan told Ben you and Sherry were both AWOL from campus today. He and Emily wondered if you two had eloped.”

  “A grapple struck her. I’m really worried,” he confessed in a thin voice.

  “Have faith, Garrett. We’ll be there in an hour and get you in to see her.”

  Word on Sherry’s condition came sooner and from a surprising source. Carla and Crawford popped into Keith’s room unannounced.