“Mind your own damn business, Knight.”
“And seems you need to mind your manners, Harper.”
Like a storm surge, the insanity swallowed them: R.J. getting in the men’s faces, Lloyd snapping at R.J., Olivia herself railing at him and April, past tears, her throat raw, and April smirking shamelessly behind R.J. Nate raced down the steep trail into camp, his flashlight dancing wildly over the standoff.
Cornered, R.J. turned on Olivia, fisted hands rising.
She froze in that teetering eternity of shock—he meant to hit her.
“Back off, R.J. Now!” Dave’s voice slammed out, his body a sudden solid wall between R.J. and Olivia.
A gentle hand tugged her out of harm’s way. Her icy paralysis broke. She gulped a breath and found Mark at her side.
R.J. faltered, his bristling stance deflating, and glanced uneasily from Dave, who looked downright dangerous, to Lloyd, whose expression revealed concrete existed behind his easy smile, to every man standing against him, somberly disgusted. R.J. slunk away two more steps toward April. April’s smile faded.
A peculiar calm had settled around them, intensifying the night’s insect noises, the lake shushing against the beach, and her heartbeat drumming in her ears. With Dave and Lloyd standing silent frowning guard beside her, Olivia had watched in dazed disbelief as her husband threw his bags and April’s in the rental boat, and left with April.
Stranding Olivia.
Her throat knotted. He’d chosen April! He’d taken that—that empty-headed bimbo with him!
The slick glass spurted from her hand to spill and shatter across the white porch floor.
“Olivia?”
She flinched and turned at her father’s voice, unable to hide the streaming tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m divorcing R.J.,” she blurted just as Mama stepped outside, and she cringed as the dreaded shock, dismay, and disappointment filled their faces.
So much for being the perfect daughter.
Chapter Two
Damn, it was good to be in the air. Dave loved the rush of wind, the anticipation of the jump and the fire. He loved this job. Being grounded while his hand finished healing had him going nuts.
Below the blue October sky, green ridges and valleys of the Plumas National Forest flowed past, the rugged beauty masking its tinder-dry state. The tower of smoke marking the lightning strike fire should soon be in view. Winds remained a concern, but so far all reports were go.
Another rough jounce of the jumpplane from the moderate chop and turbulence jarred them, sharp enough to knock the dozing Bridger into Dave’s arms. Rough rides were business as usual, but, so far, nobody had to taste their lunch again.
Dave laughed and shoved Bridger into place as the plane bucked and shuddered. “Aw, coulda asked if you wanted a dance.”
Bridger flushed and socked Dave’s shoulder.
“Rock and roll, baby.” Martinez grinned.
Laughter burst from the whole crew, adrenaline junkies all, and they settled back into the usual chatter and napping. A great bunch to work with, from the veteran Martinez to the kid Bridger on his second season.
“Meant to ask you, Speed, enjoy your R and R?” Martinez bellowed in Dave’s ear, louder than necessary above the engine noise and other conversations. “Hand’s good, I see.”
Dave waggled his right hand. Martinez had been on loan-out to Alaska, and they hadn’t had much chance to catch up. “Good as new.”
“Nice scar.”
“Yep. I owe that surgeon a salmon. Hell, two.” He was damned lucky to be back on the jump list this season. Hell, at all. Seconds, millimeters either way, and he might have had to trade in his nickname of Speed for Lefty.
“Do anything fun while we pounded the lines?”
“Camped at Mohave, fished, caught up on my beauty sleep. Stood up as best man for Nate and Kay who got hitched in Vegas.”
Oh, and don’t forget you got drunk, got hot and heavy in a hotel hallway with a married woman, and made her cry.
His gut churned at the replay of Olivia’s shocked brown eyes overflowing with tears. His fault. He forced a chuckle. “More good news, I’ll be an honorary uncle around Thanksgiving. Lloyd and JoAnn announced they’re expecting their first kid.”
“Hey, that’s great. So when are you going to take your pick of the pretty ladies schooling around you, settle down, and raise a rugrat of your own?” Martinez winked.
Dave considered those pretty ladies for a moment and not a single face or name came to mind. The last one had been Marcy? Lacey?
Hell. Didn’t matter. They’d never meant more than a mutual good time in passing.
Only one face preoccupied him these days, and he wished she’d get out of his head. She was married. End of story. Even if she were single, the uptight, elegant Olivia Harper was totally out of his league and definitely not his type. Nevertheless, his brain had latched onto her like an addict needing a fix. Two months and counting, and he couldn’t shake the fit of her slim body against his or that kiss. He couldn’t shake the shame.
And he still hadn’t apologized.
He grinned over his knotted stomach. “Me settle down? The day after you do, Martinez. So not for a long, long time. Too many mountains to climb and fish in the rivers.”
Too many fires to fight.
Besides, the job could play hell with relationships. Been there, flunked that years ago with his ex-girlfriend Tess. Some guys, like Smitty, made the wife and family thing work. But making it work also took a special woman to handle the separation and worry time.
“Hell, yeah. Too many ladies to love to pick just one.” Martinez crooned a painful imitation of the Nelson and Iglesias duet “To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before.”
Smitty chuckled, rolling his eyes at Martinez, and made a trigger-pulling motion at Dave. “Famous last words, Speed. I said the same thing the day I met my Jilly.”
Dave laughed, but while their joking conversation rambled on, his brain unhelpfully dredged up old memories of Tess and stirred that rusty pain into the stew of his mistakes, past and current.
A couple weeks ago, he’d caved and searched social networks, telling himself he was just investigating a way to apologize online. However, she hadn’t posted anywhere since July and sending a friend request to say sorry felt…tacky. He hoped to hell she hadn’t taken Harper back, but that bastard had more than enough money to smooth over anything.
His fists tightened. No man had the right to screw around on his wife or raise a hand to her. Ever.
He flattened his hands against his thighs. Enough. Their marital issues were none of his business. Time to stop worrying about Olivia. He’d never meet her again. Time to chalk up the mistake to a lesson learned and move on.
Definitely past time to get his mind off women and on the more practical and immediate challenges of wind and fire. Not long now before they’d run through their checks and their spotter would start his search for the jumpspot.
Dave flexed his hand. Easy enough to get hurt when you were focused. Focusing on the job again was all he needed. Vacations were easy, brimming with friends and activities, but downtime between fires always left too much time to think about shit. Thank God for running. He’d thrashed two pairs of running shoes and logged more miles than he wanted to remember since leaving Vegas to keep from climbing the walls while he waited on the okay to return to the jump list.
This winter, when he wasn’t helping Nate and Kay on the remodeling, maybe he’d take the trailer to—
A jolting heave of the plane, and the bottom dropped away as he was launched airborne in the cabin. Pain slammed his head. Stars blinded him.
Falling. Sick tumbling through darkness.
Pain.
Gagging, Dave shoved at the weight crushing him in agony, struggling for a fix on the stuttering, blurred chaos.
“…give me a hand, Bridger! Don’t move, Speed. Shit! Stay with me, Speed!” Smitty yelled by Dave’s ear, leaning over him, nose b
usted and bloody, hands clamped on Dave’s head pinning him in place.
Rattling, canted plane, engines straining for altitude, orders, groans, and curses snapping from the shaken tangle of men and equipment.
Dave’s heart jammed into a rapid shocky race. Trapped in a muddled primal need to escape, he fought Smitty, but Smitty tightened his grip, his blue eyes resolute. Ripping cracking shots of treetops versus metal. No, no, no. This sick rush was all oh, shit.
“…lake!”
“Hold on—”
****
“Won’t you change your mind and join us?” Olivia’s mother adjusted the silvery silk shawl around her shoulders.
No, no, and no. Olivia nudged her parents toward the front door. She glanced at the clock and took a deep breath. Okay, thirty-five hours without touching a cigarette, but if they didn’t stop hovering and leave…
“Really, Mama, Daddy, I’m fine. Go and enjoy your luncheon.”
“You need to call R.J., honey. Breaking a marriage—”
She wilted under Daddy’s somber, sorrowful gaze. “I’m not the one breaking my marriage. He did, over and over.”
“Honey, perhaps counseling. You should consider other options than divorce.”
Why couldn’t they get angry at R.J.? Why did they think some shred of hope remained? “Talking won’t change him. There’s nothing to discuss.”
She studied her parents, a beautiful, loving couple, so in sync for fifty years. No, naturally, Mama and Daddy would choose hope.
Because you hid everything from them. If waking up and realizing you made a huge mistake took you five years, acceptance is going to take them longer than two months.
Her father’s sad visage grew stern. “Olivia—”
Mama caught Daddy’s arm, interrupting his brewing lecture. “If we don’t leave now, Paul, dear, we’ll be late.” She cast a worried look at Olivia.
Olivia handed Daddy his hat, wavering under the newest load of guilt. “Please…I don’t want to argue. Go enjoy your day.” Please, go. You don’t need to hover every moment. I’m not joining you at the luncheon. I’m not reconciling with R.J., and I’m not returning to nursing.
However, rather than railing at them with the words choking her, she stood calmly under her parents’ soft kisses goodbye. “I’ll see you tonight. Have fun.”
Shutting the door between them, she sagged, forehead against the polished wood. Peaceful silence closed around her, broken only by the clock’s dragging tick echoing through the foyer. The urge to collapse in an exhausted puddle on the foyer rug was greater than the siren lure of Daddy’s cigarettes in the parlor. She pushed herself away from the door and from the temptation and trudged upstairs.
The jitters of withdrawal might have been a welcome change from this endless, numb exhaustion.
Bypassing her bed, she pushed open her balcony doors and drew a deep breath of heavy autumn air into her tight chest. She clenched the white painted railing and stared toward the eastern horizon where the unseen ocean lay. Truthfully, she hadn’t finished a whole cigarette at any point in the last two months, but this was the next stage in taking baby steps to reclaim control of her life. One day at a time. Quitting was Item Two on her To Do list.
Item One she’d also accomplished yesterday.
“Why aren’t you home yet, Olivia?”
“I’m not coming back, R.J.”
“Get on a plane and get home.”
“No.”
“I don’t have time for these tantrums, Olivia. Listen to your parents and me. Fire that damned hick lawyer and come home.”
“No.”
She’d quit smoking and told R.J. no on the same day. Poor timing, but she’d stick to both decisions.
Her cell phone rang. If it was R.J., she wasn’t answering. She’d learned through acquaintances R.J. had been playing the wounded lover at the country club, boasting how generous he’d been, how she needed this time to find herself, and how if you love something, set it free. R.J. could hold his breath and wait forever because she was never going back.
Kay’s name filled the screen. Need swelled, and she picked the phone off the bureau. Kay was easy to talk to, and she needed a friend today.
Olivia gulped a steadying breath, and forced cheer into her greeting. “Hi, Kay!” She faced Kay’s watercolor painting resting against the mirror, taking comfort in those good memories.
“Livie…” Kay’s tear-strangled voice slammed Olivia’s heart into her throat. “Livie, oh, Livie, we just got a call—” Kay broke into a distraught sob.
“I’m here. Just breathe.” Olivia’s mind rammed into the disconnected calm she’d once striven for at the hospital. What? Kay had said we, so not Nate. Her stomach rolled. Oh, no, please, not JoAnn and the baby. She scrambled to pinpoint what week JoAnn had reached…Thirty-two…three?
“His plane.” Kay gasped raggedly, and Nate’s tense, muffled voice in the background filled the wrenching pause. “Dave’s plane went down. Nate’s his emergency…contact. We’re heading to the hospital in Reno. It’s bad. Really—bad. Pray, okay? We’ll call when we can. When we know what—I have to go. Bye.”
Dave. His plane. Dave’s plane. Down. It’s bad…
Livia stared at the phone in her hand.
No.
It’s bad…She’d been in the ER early in her career when a private jet had crashed. The traumatic injury possibilities choked her.
Images from July fluttered through her mind. Dave’s arrogant barefoot skiing. His genial coaching of Mark. His sitting in the fire-lit shadows singing and playing his guitar. His dark, sexy voice. His joking with Nate. His sarcasm and moody scowls and full-hearted laughter. His mind-bending kisses and touches.
The possibility someone as tough and vital as Dave Knight could be gone—
Icy shakes racked her. Her stomach heaved. She bolted for the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before collapsing to her knees and vomiting. Wrong, so wrong.
Dave had been living his life fully and she’d been…drifting and hiding. If she died, what would she have to show for her life? Failure, abandonment, cowardice…
Curled on the chilly tile floor, she sobbed for them both.
When she finally picked herself off the floor, she washed her face and stared at the gaunt, shadow-eyed stranger in the mirror. No wonder her parents hovered. What had she done?
Ringing snapped her from her daze. The answering machine picked up.
R.J.’s voice snapped through the speaker, thin and tinny. “Damn it, Olivia, stop playing games, and answer the phone.”
She shuddered and gripped the sink, holding herself there through his impatient pause.
“Your not answering better mean you’re on the way home. I need you to take care of the dinner party Friday, and the caterer keeps calling, and, damn it, I don’t have time for this crap. You know how important this dinner is. Stop being a child and get yourself home.” He hung up.
Get yourself home.
Home. That certainly wasn’t with R.J. up in New York or even the Fort Lauderdale house. As much as she loved her parents, Savannah was no longer home either.
Face it. You have only one place you can go. Time to take a risk.
Packing was simple, but she took extra care to protect Kay’s painting in her suitcase. After calling for a taxi and writing a note for Mama and Daddy, she set her bags at the door and took one last walk around the quiet home of her childhood. A beautiful place, a peaceful shelter in which to hide from life. Now, she needed to leave. Her bolting like this would upset them, but she had to follow through.
Pines, businesses, traffic, and the bright early autumn day slid by her cab. She had lovely day to fly.
His plane had crashed, and she was heading to the airport. She laughed queasily. In the rearview mirror, the driver raised a brow.
Buying the ticket at the counter proved far easier than she’d worried. When asked her destination, the anxious pain in her stomach deepened. What would everyone think if she b
ought a ticket to Reno?
However, she didn’t say Reno, because she was still married and she did the right thing. Always did the right thing. Well, she wasn’t entirely sure this was right, but she was choosing for herself rather than meekly obeying.
She frowned at her trembling hands and tightened them on the coffee she’d bought for the wait. What if she wasn’t welcome—
Stop, you’re being foolish again.
More important, would Nate and Kay get from their home on the Oregon coast to Reno and Dave in time? Olivia’s heart ached for them. Losing Dave would just kill Nate and Lloyd. Please…
Exhaustion dragged at her, tempting her to shut her eyes. Maybe she could nap on the plane. Maybe. She turned off her phone, deliberately hiding from the day’s inevitable fallout.
Abruptly, the time arrived for her flight. She dutifully boarded the plane crowded with drab-suited businessmen and bright-clad tourists.
His plane went down. She was too tired to fear flying.
Her cheery and talkative seat companion was undeterred by her monosyllabic answers while they awaited takeoff.
It’s bad…The nurse side of her kept picking over the widely variable spectrum of bad. Did they crash at takeoff or in the wilderness? How long before help reached him? How long the race to the hospital and what level trauma center? Surely, Reno had the care he’d need. Did she need to pray for healing or for a merciful release from suffering into death?
Was he already gone?
She choked against the rise of bile, coffee, and tears. Please, God, just please…
Once they were airborne, Mr. Cheerful quieted into reading his magazine. Olivia shut her eyes, but interruptions, too many swirling thoughts, and having to change planes in Atlanta left her unable to nap before the descent into West Palm Beach.
A weary daze enveloped her as she deplaned and found her way to baggage claim. Maybe she should skip the taxi, maybe take a rental car and get a hotel room until tomorrow. However, the exit door opened by the taxi stand. She let that coincidence decide.
Minutes and miles ticked away on the long taxi ride north. Twilight faded into dark. How had doing the right thing become so unclear? Be a good daughter. Be a good student. Be a good nurse. Be a good wife. So much effort only to be left with empty arms and an empty life.
Love Burns Page 3