by Kayt Miller
“Oh, honey….” Mom turns and wraps me up in her arms. “He’ll make it through this. We’ll make it through this. We’re Harmons. We’ll work together.”
I nod against her shoulder but can’t get any words out. She’s right though, Harmons work together.
25
Nash
It’s been five hours and Isabelle and her mom were just now allowed into the Intensive Care Unit to see Bruce. After his lengthy surgery, the doctor came out and told us what I already suspected. He lost his right arm up to the shoulder. Honestly, he’s lucky to be alive. Farming is a dangerous profession, and auger accidents are one of the most common ways to go. I don’t know the whole story, but Isaac was able to get the important parts from one of Bruce’s hands. The auger was jammed by some foreign object it picked up in the field. I’m not sure what it was, but it could have been anything from a large tree limb that blew into the field to a deer carcass.
Apparently, Bruce stopped the combine, jumped down, and attempted to free up the blockage. He must not have had the thing completely shut down because it started to move as he was working. It takes less than a second for that part of the machine to pull you in. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s alive. It could have pulled him all the way in, but fortunately, his farmhand Ben was there to pull him free. Honestly, I’m surprised. That’s a rookie mistake. Bruce should never have put himself in that position, but I wasn’t there, so I shouldn’t judge the man too harshly. I’m just thankful he’s alive––thankful Isabelle didn’t lose her dad like I did.
“He’s going to be sleeping for a while.”
I’m brought out of my thoughts by Isabelle’s tired voice. “You want some coffee? You hungry?” She hasn’t eaten a thing since I picked her up.
“You know, I am hungry. Let’s go find something for Mom too. She needs to eat.”
I stand from my seat and take hold of Isabelle’s hand. I’m not sure why I’m doing that, but it feels right, so I’m going with it. I lead her back down the long corridor to the bank of elevators. I step up to the hospital map in search of the cafeteria. “Up one floor,” I say, pointing to the spot on the map.
We ride up in silence. When the doors open, I lead her into a large cafeteria. There are food stations all around the space. There’s a salad bar and a grill area where they make food to order. There’s also a pizza station, a sandwich making area, and a large dessert section. “Wow.” I smile down at her. “This is pretty nice. They have something for everyone. What are you hungry for, babe?”
She’s distracted. Understandable. “Oh, um….” She looks around the space. Her eyes land on the dessert station, and I chuckle. “We definitely need dessert, but let’s get you something more nutritious first.”
“Right.” She steps over to the salad bar, then back at me. She doesn’t want salad. I can tell.
“No salad.” I point to my left. “Let’s get something from the grill, yeah?”
“Okay.” I take her hand again and pull her toward the grill. “I’ll take a grilled chicken sandwich.”
“I’m getting two double bacon cheeseburgers and an order of fries.”
I hear her snort, so I look down to see her little eye roll.
“What?”
“Of course you can eat two giant burgers.” She pats my flat stomach. “You’ll probably lose weight after you eat those.”
“I’m a growin’ boy.” I pat my own stomach. “I need lots of food.”
Then I hear the prettiest sound in the world—Isabelle’s laugh. “If you say so.”
“Hey.” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer until she’s leaning against me. “I’ll share my fries with you.” Then I kiss the top of her pretty head.
When she looks up at me, her eyes are sparkling. She’s fighting the urge to cry, and it makes me want to wrap her up tight and hold her forever. Since I can’t do that right this second, I do the next best thing. I lean down and kiss her lips softly. “He’s going to be okay, Isabelle.”
She nods and looks toward the grilling station. It’s our turn to order, so I do the honors, ordering a chicken sandwich and fries for Grace as well in the hopes she’ll eat something.
“Do you want to eat here or go back up to the waiting area?”
“Let’s eat down here.”
We find a table off in a corner, near a window overlooking a pretty courtyard. Taking a burger one in hand, I take a giant bite. “Mm, good.” I nod as I talk with my mouth full. And it is good. I haven’t eaten for hours. I toss a couple of fries into my mouth as I watch Isabelle prepare her grilled chicken. She’s taken off the top of the bun, removed the lettuce and tomato and added yellow mustard to the top. Then she replaces the tomato and lettuce and holds it up to eat. “What?” she asks, looking over at me.
“You’re not eating the top of the bun?”
“Carbs.” She shakes her head. “Carbs bad.”
I reach over and snag her discarded carbs. I place it on top of my bun and bite down. “Carbs good.”
I look over at her and smile. I’ve made her laugh again, and it makes me feel warm all over.
Isabelle eats less than half of her food and she’s done. I’m pretty stuffed myself, but when she offers me the rest of her sandwich, I take it and eat it. What? Don’t judge. It could be hours before I’ll get food again. I need to stockpile.
On the way back to the elevators, Isabelle asks, “Are you going to call and check on Andi?”
Leave it to Isabelle to think about Andi after all of this shit that happened today. “I’ve been texting Mom and Andi. I’ve given Mom updates, so she knows we’re going to be here for some time. She’s got things covered.”
“Oh.” Isabelle stops in midstep. “You should head home. You’ve got the farm—”
“Hal’s got things under control. I’ve talked to him too.” Hal is my right hand, well, farmhand. He was a friend of my father’s, having worked with him for years. He knows what needs to be done almost better than me.
“Oh.” She takes another step then stops. “Do you think I need to call Ben?”
“I’m sure he’s worried about your dad. You could update him.”
Isabelle steps away from the elevator to a spot around the corner. I follow her and wait. I watch her press a few buttons on her phone and place it to her ear and listen as she talks. “Ben, it’s Isabelle.” She tells him what’s happened with Bruce so far. “Can you call in some extra seasonal help for the time being?” she asks him. “We need to get those crops in as soon as possible. It’s supposed to rain this weekend, so the more you can get done the better.” She pauses, listening to Ben. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. If you call Jim Davis, he’ll come over and help with the cattle until I can get there.” She listens again. “Yeah, I’ll send you his number.” Before she ends the call, she adds, “Oh, and there’s supposed to be a feed delivery tomorrow, early. Can you be sure you’re there?” She nods as she listens to Ben. “Great. Thanks, Ben.”
I’m sincerely in awe of this woman.
After she hangs up, she looks up at me. “That should take care of things for a day or two.”
“It should.” I take her hand and move back to the elevators.
While we wait, Isabelle says, “But long-term, I’m going to need to be more involved. He won’t be able to do much.”
It’s not a question––at least not one for me. She seems to be talking aloud.
“I may need to take a leave from school. Isaac won’t be able to help. He’s moving to San Diego in the next month.”
“That’s true. I could help.”
She shakes her head. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”
And she doesn’t?
“Babe, there are a hundred farmers in and around Honeywell who’ll pitch in to help your dad. It’s what we do. When someone needs helps, we help. Hell, they’re probably working on a way to get the harvest done for Bruce right this second.” And that’s no lie. We farmers have each other’s backs. No matter what.
&nb
sp; “Yes.” She squeezes my hand. “I know. But, after the harvest, there’s still a lot to do with the cattle.”
Back in the ICU, Isabelle is able to coax her mom out of Bruce’s room so she can eat something. In the waiting area, I sit with Grace as she plays with her food and Isabelle sits with her dad. “Are you okay, Grace?”
“Sure. Yes!” she says cheerily. “He’s going to be fine. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.”
I lean over and touch her hand. “Hey, I’m not Isabelle. You don’t have to pretend to be okay.”
Setting the foam box on the table next to her, Grace covers her face with her hands and cries. And cries. And cries. I place my palm on her shoulder just so she knows I’m here. When the tears have slowed, she looks over at me. “I’m so thankful he’s alive, Nash. I prayed so hard.”
I nod. I just want to listen if she needs to talk.
“I can’t picture our lives wi-without him.” She releases a sob.
“I know.” I do. “But he’s going to make it. It’ll take some time, but he’ll be back at it.”
I hand Grace her dinner. “You need to eat, Grace. Keep your strength up.”
Nodding, she reaches for the box. “Did Izzy eat?”
“Some.”
There’s silence for a moment or two as Grace takes a bite of her food. While she does that, I search the table for a magazine that doesn’t have a thing to do with fashion or home decorating.
“You love her.”
I’m startled by her words. My head jerks up until I’m looking into Grace’s eyes. “Isabelle?”
Grace nods. “You love Isabelle.”
“Grace. I….”
“Nashville James Watson.” She sighs. “I’ve known you since you were a baby. I know you, honey. Don’t lie to me. You love Isabelle. I also know about the crap you pulled at Sisters. But, deep down, you did it because you love her. You want to marry her. Am I right?”
I stare at the woman who gave me Isabelle. Hell, this is what she’s going to look like when she gets older, and even with this stressful shit with Bruce, Grace Harmon is still beautiful. But it’s her tired, red eyes that give me the strength to say something aloud that I’ve been afraid to admit even to myself. “I do. I love her, but I’m not good enough for her.”
“That’s bullshit. There’s no better man for my daughter than you.”
“Grace—”
“No.” She scoots closer to me. “I know that Ivy did a number on you and Andi. I also know losing your dad was devastating.”
“Yeah.” I can’t think of anything to rebut. It’s all true.
“But, honey, when you realize you love someone and they love you back, you have to see it through. Give it a chance. And don’t just half-ass it, Nash. Go for it with everything you’ve got.”
“I’m not good enough for her.”
“Will you stop with that?” She slaps me on the arm. “Nobody is good enough for Isabelle.”
I laugh at that. She’s right.
“As long as you always remember you’re not worthy of her, you’ll be the kind of husband I’d want for my sweet girl.” Sitting back in her seat, she picks up her sandwich, but before she bites, she adds, “She doesn’t think she’s good enough for you either, Nash. So, it’s up to you to make her see how wrong she is.”
Grace finishes her sandwich and returns to Bruce’s room. When Isabelle emerges, she looks tired. That’s also when all of Grace’s words come flowing back to me. Without thinking, I stand and open my arms. “Come ’ere, babe.” Isabelle moves into me as I wrap my arms around her. Holding her close, I kiss the top of her head. “You okay?”
“Tired,” she says into my shirt, her voice muffled.
“Come on. I know where you can get a little sleep.” I take her down the hallway to another waiting area made up of pods. Each pod has a sofa bed, small dining table, a recliner, and a wall-mounted television. “We can also control our lights in here.”
“Wow. This is nice. How did you find out about this place?”
“One of the nurses told me about it.” I point to the chair. “Sit. I’ll get your bed made up.” While Isabelle sits, I make my way to a shelf that holds sheets, blankets, and pillows.
We make up the bed together. Isabelle kicks off her shoes and slides beneath the bedding. “Wow, it’s hard as a rock, but I don’t care. It feels amazing.”
I’m standing above her smiling. I look back at the recliner, then down at her again.
“Come on.” She holds up the blanket. “You’ve got to be exhausted too.”
I’m not about to turn down the invitation to sleep horizontally. Not to mention the fact that I’ll be next to Isabelle. So, I kick off my shoes and take off my sweatshirt, leaving me in my old Honeywell High School Baseball State Champs tee and jeans. Sitting first, I see what Isabelle means about the bed being hard, but like her, I don’t care. Sliding beneath the sheet and blanket, I roll to face her.
With a yawn, Isabelle says tiredly, “I sure hope you’re not a blanket hog, Mr. Watson.”
I chuckle. “I’ll try not to be, darlin’.” I reach out and wrap my arm around Isabelle’s waist and pull her closer. She doesn’t think twice, she lays her head on my chest right next to my shoulder and curls in next to me. Her breathing evens out in seconds, and I know she’s asleep. I’m tired too, but I don’t want to go to sleep until I experience Isabelle Harmon next to me in bed. A while back I imagined what it’d be like to have her just like this. Running my palm up and down her back, I kiss the top of her head and smile. It’s better than I imagined. Way better.
26
Isabelle
I wake up hot and confused. Oh, and practically on top of Nash Watson. Poor Nash! Peeking up at him, I see he’s sound asleep. I want to laugh because he’s got this cute little snore going on and there’s some drool around his mouth. Yep, I can’t help myself. I laugh. I do it quietly though, so I don’t wake him up. The room with all the sleep pods is dark and quiet, but it’s not so dark that I can’t see where I am, which is good because I need to use the restroom. Stat.
Looking around my current space, I see Nash’s arm is around me. Reaching down, I lift his hand and move it off, resting it back onto his hip. Scooting back, I look around, attempting to figure out how to get out of the bed without waking him up. I either need to crawl over him or I need to shimmy up to the top of the sofa bed and maneuver over the armrest so I can get out that way. I think it’ll be less work and effort if I just crawl over him. Pushing myself up to my knees, I lift one leg and place it on the other side of Nash. Kickboxing has really helped me with my balance. I’ve developed some core strength, and while I definitely don’t have abs of steel, I can do this. Next I lean down and place my left hand over to rest on the bed so I can push myself over the rest of the way. I get the first part done, but something keeps me from making the final dismount. And that something? Hands. Two large hands are on either side of my hips. “Where’re you going, babe?”
I feel his palms move up to my waist then back down, but this time, they don’t stop at my hip. This time they move down and around until they’re both smack dab on my behind. “Nash?”
When he squeezes my butt cheeks a little, I make a squeaking noise. “Nash.” This time it sounds more like a warning.
“Baby,” he says in a deep voice. His hands move up and slide beneath my shirt. When his hands touch my skin, my body comes alive. The feel of his calloused palms as they slide upward has me practically on fire. I’ve got goose bumps everywhere, and my nipples are on high alert. I’m doing my best to keep from moaning, but it ain’t easy. He adds a little pressure on my upper back, and I’m sort of forced down until my face is inches from his. “Nash?”
“Kiss me, Isabelle.”
Oh, goodness. If you could see this man right now. His hair is all messy from sleep. His grass green eyes are all hooded and sexy-like, and his beautiful lips are just... right there. How can I refuse him? So, I don’t. I lean down and kiss his soft
lips. Once. Or so I thought. As I start to lift back up, I feel one of his hands end up in my hair.
“Again, Isabelle.”
Without a thought, I lean down again and kiss him, only this time, it’s not so soft and sweet. He’s turned his head and opened his mouth for this one, and I can’t help myself. I do the same. It’s a slow burn of a kiss. Exploratory. I find myself kissing first his top lip, then his bottom. Next, I nip at the lower lip, which produces a sound from Nash I’ve never heard in my life. It’s a growl. It vibrates from his chest to mine. It also causes his free hand to move downward and back onto my bottom. The squeeze this time is a little harder. I feel something against my leg. Something hard.
When both of his hands end up on my backside again, he uses those hands to press me down until I’m fully seated on top of him. I attempt to wriggle free, but his growling sound happens again. I know I should stop moving about because it makes me want to growl too. He feels good between my legs. So, yeah, I may not have much sexual experience––okay, I’ve got no sexual experience––but I’ve read enough books to know what’s happening. We’re pressed together, and if I were to start to move back and forth, that’d be dry humping, and while that sounds interesting, very interesting, I don’t think that should be happening in the family sleep pods at the University of Iowa Hospital.
Sadly, I pull my mouth from his as he moves his to kiss my neck. Wow, that feels amazing. I’m about to say his name when he starts to whisper things in my ear. Nice things. Sweet things. Dirty things.
“Your skin is so soft, Isabelle. I knew you’d feel this good.”
Kiss.
“You smell like heaven.”
Kiss. Nibble.
He presses his pelvis upward, and I feel it everywhere. “God, I can’t wait to sink into you. So deep, babe. I want you in my bed.”
I say his name one more time. This time with meaning. “Nash, we can’t do this here.”