“Dave!” Heart in her throat, she bolted to his side and fell on her knees. “Please, tell me you’re okay.”
He grabbed her close, knocking the oxygen off his face. “I’m fine.” His voice broke on a cough. “Jake?”
The EMT refixed the oxygen in place.
“He’s gone.”
Dave crushed her to him, coughing. “Ah, damn, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“You could have been killed!” Why ever had he gone back in? For things? She could have lost him! She clutched his hand, shattering into uncontrollable shakes.
He stroked her head. “Hey, hey, I’m okay. Couple more minutes here with the O2 and I’ll be right as rain. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
Please, God, make that true.
Despite Dave’s cocky boast, between the smoke inhalation and nasty cuts from embedded glass, he grudgingly conceded to the hospital. She’d follow as soon as possible.
That was slower than she liked. New rounds of questions and information made her head spin as she clung to her shaky composure. She finally cried enough. She needed to be with Dave. She’d told everyone all she knew. She could do nothing more here. She’d manage everything, somehow, later.
They let her go. She ran to the pool and grabbed her bag and Dave’s phone, wallet, and cane.
Except emergency vehicles blocked her car and Dave’s truck, and while Uncle Jake’s car was in the garage, she’d never learned to drive a stick shift. Her chest knotted. She should have gone in the ambulance with Dave. Why hadn’t she learned to drive a stick—
Calm, stay calm. Dave is fine. He is in good hands. You just need a taxi.
She sank onto Uncle Jake’s front step. Her arms ached from the futile compressions, and her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone.
Her phone rang, driving her heart back into her throat.
Royce. She sucked in a breath and answered. “Hello.”
“Olivia, what’s going on? Are you okay? I saw the fire trucks and smoke.”
A long shudder rolled through her. “Oh, Royce. The bar—a fire—we lost Uncle Jake.”
“Aw, hell, I’m sorry. What can I do to help? I can be right there.”
“Yes, please, oh, thank you. Dave went to the hospital to get checked out, and I said I’d meet him there, but my car is blocked—”
“I’m on my way.”
Bare minutes later, Royce pulled into the driveway and charged from his car to wrap her in a hug.
Fighting the leaden weight of shock, she let herself sag against him for just a moment. She had too much to do to fall apart now.
Royce driving freed her to make the call to Daddy. Telling him Uncle Jake had passed was the hardest task ever, but she spoke steadily.
Daddy’s murmur to Mama, and a pause followed by his wrenching sigh broke her heart. When he spoke again, he was his calm, steady self. “Mama and I will be there as soon as we can. I’ll take care of everything.”
Subsequent calls to Bettie, Teo, and everyone were just as difficult.
The wait at the hospital before she could get to Dave was nerve-wracking, and she was glad of Royce’s calm company.
Royce patted her shoulder and took a seat. “I’ll wait here for you. Holler if you need me.”
Dave’s hoarse “Damn it!” flooded her with relief.
She found him grouchily receiving stitches. He was still on oxygen to wash out the carbon monoxide, but his color was much improved and a quick scan of his vitals on the monitor reassured her he was stable. He held out his hand. She slipped her hand in his.
His blood pressure cuff cycled on, and he winced, reflexively squeezing his hand on hers as the cuff inflated. “Shit! Hate that thing.”
“You are a terrible patient.” A bandage and gauze on his left wrist marked where they’d done a radial artery stick for an arterial blood gas sampling to find the carboxy hemoglobin levels.
“Yeah, but now that you’re here, I’ll behave.” He kissed her hand.
The young resident stitching him winked.
Sorrow flooded Dave’s face. “How are you doing?”
“Royce drove me. He’s waiting for us. I—I called Daddy.” Her breath hitched, and she fought for calm against the grief.
He squeezed her hand. “Sorry, honey.”
“They’re coming. Daddy didn’t say exactly when, but since he doesn’t like to drive at night anymore, I think we’ll see them tomorrow, by noon perhaps.”
After testy negotiations with the doctor, Dave settled for several hours’ observation. If his saturation levels remained good, and vital signs and physical examination findings remained normal, there would be no reason to keep him overnight.
“I’ve breathed more smoke on an easy day at the job and spent more than enough time in a hospital already last year, damn it,” he grumbled.
Livie laughed at his stubborn bravado, but her throat tightened and her mind spun. She could have lost him. So much lost, so much to do…Where to begin? Oh, Uncle Jake…She swallowed hard. If she started thinking…no, just…no. She had to stay strong and carry on.
Royce joined them, and his company helped as day crawled into evening. Dave’s saturation levels remained good and, finally, he gained his release. He faced the obligatory wheelchair out to Royce’s waiting car with more grumbling.
She slipped into the back seat with Dave, and he wrapped his hand around hers. She desperately wanted to crawl into her bed and forget this day ever happened, but her bed and home were a charred, drenched ruin.
However, once they arrived home, they found the police and fire department still there, finishing up their tasks. Dave and Royce kept at her side through another bout of answering and asking questions. The building had been secured, but the disaster was as bad as she feared and the upstairs was too unsafe to retrieve any of their belongings tonight. Finding out the cause was electrical, a simple, horrible unavoidable accident, didn’t made the day’s losses any easier.
As the last police car pulled away, they said goodnight to Royce.
Royce gave her a hard hug. “If you need anything, call, right? Again, I’m real sorry about Jake. I’ll break the news to Granddad.”
“Thank you.”
Dave shook his hand. “Thanks, Royce.”
Walking into Uncle Jake’s dark empty house gutted her. Her head was pounding. What first? Dave and she needed to eat. She fixed two simple plates of eggs and toast. How life had changed since lunch. Half a day ago, she and Dave had been fooling around in the pool and Uncle Jake had been dying alone.
Messages filled Uncle Jake’s answering machine and her cell’s voicemail. She picked at the food on her plate between returning calls. The insurance agent was a longtime friend of Uncle Jake’s and very kind. Her aunts talked on and on, already questioning the funeral plans, the conversation leaving her head spinning. She knew the funeral home where Jake had made his arrangements, but beyond that…
“Say goodbye.” Dave leaned heavily on his cane, and his serious stare prickled anxiety over her.
“I’ve got to go, Aunt Julia. I’m sure Daddy will call you as soon as he knows more. Love you.” She disconnected.
Decision and worry mixed on his grim face. He tugged the phone from her hand and turned off the ringer. “You’ve taken care of all you can today. Now let me take care of you.” His smoke-roughened voice cracked. “Let the machine pick up. Come with me. You need to sleep.”
“We need showers first.” They reeked of smoke. She pulled away and headed upstairs to the guest bathroom. A trapped sob ached in her throat. “But we have no clothes.” Everything was ruined.
“I’ve got this.” Dave started the shower and gently tugged off her clothes. He drew her under the warm spray. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
She shut her eyes and tipped her face to the water. The ache to cry gnawed with rusty teeth. Uncle Jake was dead, the bar in ruins, no work for their employees, their customers would go elsewhere, all their plans and dreams were
up in smoke, and she couldn’t cry.
****
Dave gathered clothes from Jake’s drawers and turned off the phone.
He found Livie standing motionless under the spray, shoulders slumping. Screw keeping the bandages dry, he needed to hold her. He dropped the clothes on the vanity, stripped, and joined her in the shower. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close for a long time under the soothing rush.
Livie still hadn’t cried. She’d been so strong through this fucked-up day, but holding in the shock and shit like this was no good.
Yeah, like someone we know. Like you’re so open about feelings.
His throat tightened. He’d miss the old man. The unending dull ache for his parents surfaced…and the bitter anger. He should have had them longer. All of them.
Stop whining. Take care of Livie.
The soap filled the steamy air with a vanilla scent, clearing the stink of smoke. He washed her tenderly, and she stirred enough to shampoo her hair while he scrubbed himself clean.
Once they were dry, he gathered Livie to him in the soft guestroom bed. Exhaustion won, and she drifted off with a shuddering sigh. He shut his eyes, determined to ignore his new nagging aches and pains. They needed sleep before facing her parents tomorrow and tackling the disaster…
The jangling fire call launched him from bed.
His leg folded under him, dropping him to the mattress and waking him fully. He was in Florida, not a fire station. The jangling alarm in his dream was only the faint carillon chime of Jake’s doorbell. Beside him, Livie slept curled in a knot.
Dave squinted at the clock. 10:56 p.m. Who the hell was here this late? Damn, they’d wake her if they kept ringing the bell.
To the stiff protest of aches old and new, he yanked on borrowed shorts and grabbed his cane. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he limped downstairs, ready to chew out the visitors.
Keys rattled at the door and a woman quietly spoke. “I told you, we should have gone to a hotel and waited until morning.”
The front door swung open as a man replied, “I’m worried. Olivia should have answered her phone.”
“And I told you, dear, she’d be—”
Dave hit the foyer lights.
A silver-haired couple blinked politely. The man shutting the door was a leaner, taller Jake—Shit! Livie’s parents, who shouldn’t be here until tomorrow.
“You must be Dave.” Mrs. Benedetti’s smile was a perfect match to Livie’s sweet smile.
Dave stepped back. “Yes. Sorry, I was asleep. We were expecting you tomorrow. Ah, Livie’s sleeping. A rough day.” He scrubbed a hand over his head. “I’m sorry for your loss. Jake was a good man.” He coughed, cleared his raspy throat, and retreated.
Shit, great way to meet her parents: barely dressed in baggy borrowed shorts, unshaven, and looking like hell with his scars and the new bandages exposed. He should have thrown on a shirt. This was like one of those damned dreams where you show up naked on the first day of school.
Livie’s dad nodded. “That he was.”
He scrambled for manners. Playing host in a dead man’s home was damned awkward. “Ah, can I get you a drink or anything? Mrs. Benedetti? Mr. Benedetti? You had a long drive. Something to eat?”
Should he wake Livie? No. She needed her rest.
“Please, call me Louise, and my husband is Paul. We’ve already eaten, but I’d love a drink.” Louise led the way into the living room. After a weighing stare, Paul followed his wife.
Dave headed to the bar.
Louise perched daintily on the sofa. “You should be resting, Dave, not serving us. Olivia said you were taken to the hospital. I’m sorry you were injured. Paul can fix our drinks. Right, dear?”
Paul nodded tersely.
Dave shrugged. “I’m fine. Some stitches and precautionary observation.” He eased onto the nearest chair, resisting the need to wince.
“Jake mentioned you liked Scotch…” Paul said gruffly, hand on the decanter.
“That’s fine. Thanks.” Jake discussing him with Livie’s dad made sense, but down to his preferred liquor?
Paul distributed the drinks and sat beside Louise, so disconcertingly like Jake as he gave Dave a steady, cool stare. “Olivia was understandably brief on the phone. Can you fill in what happened?”
Dave sipped, appreciating the fine whisky’s smooth burn. “We don’t know the whole story yet. The bar was closed, as normal. When we saw him last, Jake was planning to cook and chased us off to go swimming.” He quietly relayed the facts of the failed rescue and fire.
When Dave finished, Paul nodded regally. “Thank you for your efforts.”
“Just sorry I didn’t get to him sooner.”
“I’m sure they’ll find it was his heart. He’d been ill for a long time.”
“He told Livie he was doing better.”
Paul snorted, his face creased in sorrow and frustration. “My brother could sell ice to an Eskimo, and he loved Olivia. He lied so she wouldn’t worry.”
He’d fallen for Jake’s bull, too. Livie and he should have known better, but they’d believed him because they needed to.
“We knew his time was coming. He was so damned stubborn. He always said he wanted to go quick—” Paul took a hard sip of his drink, as if he rather toss down the glassful. Louise stroked his shoulder, and he leaned into her touch.
Dave drained the last sip from his glass. A yawn cracked from him before he could clamp his jaw shut.
Louise rose to her feet. “You need to go back to bed.”
Dave stiffly shoved to his feet. “Livie has the bedroom all set for you. I’ll help you with your bags.” Although that might be easier said than done after the whisky.
Paul gave him another steady gaze. “We’ll manage. Get some sleep.”
“We’ll see you and Olivia in the morning.” Louise smiled and laid her hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“Okay. Thanks. Well…Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
Dave felt their gaze drilling into him with each hitching step upstairs toward their daughter.
He eased into the quiet room. Livie slept with slow, even breaths, but when he crawled into bed she wrapped her arm around him with a dreaming whimper, clinging tensely. He rubbed her back, held her close, and prayed for dreamless sleep.
Despite the Scotch buzz, his exhaustion, and warm skin-to-skin contact with the woman he loved, sleep evaded him. His leg and back ached, the stitched cuts burned, his wrist still hurt from the ABG stick, and even his arm ached where the damned blood pressure cuff had squeezed. His mind churned with futile what-ifs and if-onlys. If only the beautiful weather hadn’t lured them to swim. If they’d only stayed and worked with Jake in the kitchen. What if he’d been able to get Jake outside faster?
The muted noises of her parents downstairs didn’t help his efforts to relax. The clock’s pale green glow blinked off the passing minutes…hours…the endless, miserable replay of Jake lying lifeless, Dad on the living room floor with empty eyes…no pulse, no fucking pulse…he wasn’t fast enough, never fast enough when it counted…
He roused to Livie shaking him. “Dave? Wake up!”
“Huh?”
“Someone’s in the house.”
Daylight and the distant rush of the downstairs shower crept through his exhaustion and sleep-fogged head. He buried his face against Livie’s neck. “Just your mom and dad. Got here last night.”
****
Olivia’s half-asleep worry jolted to wide-awake panic. “They came, and I slept through it!”
Dave snuggled around her, a heavy, warm, comforting male blanket. “Uh huh…were tired, hon. Had a drink with ’em.” His husky mumble tapered into a snore.
“Dave, my parents are here!” She was naked in bed with Dave, and her parents were downstairs.
“Huh?” He tightened his grip.
She tugged gently. “I need to get up. Let me go, and I’ll bring you coffee.” She wanted to hide in his arms and her p
arents to be gone and yesterday to never have happened. Her throat clenched against the aching sorrow. Later, grieve later.
“Promise?”
“I promise. Try to wake up.”
He rolled over, burying his face into the pillow with a groan.
She slipped away as his muffled “Uh huh, thanks” faded. She kissed his forehead and smiled. He was fast asleep.
A clean bar shirt and pair of khaki shorts lay draped over the chair. She couldn’t bring herself to wear Uncle Jake’s shorts, but her bikini had dried sufficiently to wear underneath the big shirt. Those would do until she could borrow something from Mama.
The aroma of coffee called to her frazzled nerves as she opened the bedroom door, but she needed to wash the sleep from her eyes first.
She reached the foot of the stairs just as Daddy strode from the guest room.
“Olivia.” He paused, his expression stern.
She froze. Please, don’t lecture me now. “Uh, hi, Daddy.”
He opened his arms.
Sorrow swelled, leaving her feeling all of five again and needing her daddy. She broke and ran into his hug.
Mama joined them in the hug. “We’ve been so worried about you, honey.”
“I’m okay. I had Dave. I wasn’t alone.” Grief burned in her throat, and throbbed behind her eyes, but still she couldn’t cry.
Mama lent her fresh clothes, and Livie excused herself to run Dave’s coffee upstairs and change. Dave slept through her brushed kiss to his cheek, so she left his coffee on the nightstand. She took her time dressing and pulling herself together in the bathroom before rejoining her parents in the kitchen.
Daddy was on the phone, so Mama and she drafted shopping lists in preparation for the imminent extended family invasion and readied breakfast while they waited for him.
When he finished his calls, Mama served up breakfast, but the mundane peace of eating breakfast failed to soothe on this day. Olivia only managed a few bites of eggs and toast, crushed under what-ifs and should-haves.
Daddy cleared his throat and sharply raised his brow in the I-know-best manner that always preceded a lecture. “It’s past time you gave serious consideration to your future, honey. Helping Jake as a distraction during your divorce was one thing, but he’s gone. You’re meant to do more with your life than run a bar. You need to return to nursing.” He paused, hand in hand with Mama, so proper and concerned, united in their worry.
Love Burns Page 29