Читать книгу Holiday Homecoming - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

Ryan swore it felt as if they’d been driving for an eternity, but when he glanced at the clock in the dash, the green numbers showed less than two hours had passed. For one hundred and twenty long minutes they’d been creeping in a vast darkness, closed off from the world, the tenacious storm allowing him to see only a few feet in front of him.

Twice, he’d spotted the faint sudden pinpoint of on-coming headlights. Each vehicle had been traveling as slowly as he was, fighting to stay on the road. He hadn’t seen another driver in the past fifty-three minutes in front of him, behind him or on the other side of the double yellow.

Exhaustion made every nerve ending burn. Three times they’d stopped in the small towns off the highway to look for vacancies. No luck. Every other traveler had the same idea. They had no other option than to keep driving.

“How are you doing?” Kristin’s soothing alto broke the long silence between them. “Want to trade off driving?”

“Maybe. I figured we’d switch once we got to the next town.”

“Sounds good. If we don’t lose track of the road.”

“Pray this storm doesn’t get any worse.” Grim, Ryan recalled all the cases he’d read about in med school where innocent drivers had gotten caught in harsh winter storms and gone off the road. He saw how easily that could happen.

The blizzard closed in with a vengeance. The falling snow began to spin, washing over the windshield with a dizzying speed. The twin beams of the headlights glared on the downpour, reflecting back at him until he lost complete sight of the highway.

“Thank God for the tracks.” Kristin leaned forward, straining against her shoulder harness as if to help him watch for signs of danger. As if they were about to plunge off the road and down a ravine.

“Just what I was thinking.” Some brave soul was ahead of them. The lone set of tire tracks was rapidly filling with snow, but it was enough to keep him headed in the right direction. His vision blurred and he blinked hard.

Just stay alert, man. He fidgeted in his seat, fighting the belt. He could use the rest of his soda, both the sugar and caffeine would help, but he didn’t want to take his hand off the wheel or his attention from the road. There was no way he was going to let anything happen. He had Kristin to keep safe. Mom was waiting for him.

Thank you, Lord, for the help. The tire tracks in the snow unspooled ahead of them like a sign from above guiding them toward home.

Home. If his head wasn’t pounding from exhaustion and the effort of concentrating so hard, he could try to get his mind in the right place. He didn’t want Mom to see him like this, undecided and unhappy to be walking straight back to his past.

Luckily, driving took all his energy. He didn’t have to think about anything other than this moment and keeping the car on the road. It was like driving in a dark tunnel. He glued his attention to the tire tracks barely visible in the sheen of the headlights.

The road beneath them seemed to heave, tossing the SUV around. Fear hit him and he swung the wheel left, but it was too late. A tree bough swiped across the roof. The passenger-side tires dipped low into the pitch of the shoulder.

He saw it all in a flash, the sharp drop, the void of a forest. Already he was picturing what it would be like to crash through those thick limbs and plunge into the darkness, out of control. Flashes of car-accident victims he’d treated in the E.R. haunted him and he fought to stop the inevitable as the top-heavy SUV began to tip.

Please, Lord, he prayed as, teeth gritted, he fought the jolting steering wheel. A little help, please. Crashing into old-growth trees was going to be a very bad thing. Time slowed down. He saw the minute detail of the pine needles on the limb swinging toward them. Beside him Kristin gasped, grabbed the dash, expecting the worst, too.

Then, miraculously, the tires dug in. The vehicle swung left toward the level road, and he eased it to a shaking stop. Thank you, Father.

Adrenaline pumping, he tried not to think of everything that could have happened, how hurt they could have been and what those tire tracks meant. “That was a close one. Are you okay?”

Sheet white, Kristin studied him with wide eyes. She nodded. “But whoever is in that car isn’t.”

He didn’t answer. He flicked on the overhead dome light to see as he searched the dash for the hazard lights and hit them on. “Check around and see if there’s a first-aid kit. Then button up and come with me.”

Gone was the hint of the boy he’d been. He was all man, mature and focused. Reaching beneath the seat, Kristin’s fingers tapped over the nubby carpet and bumped into a plastic edge. She got down on all fours to extricate the small box and realized that Ryan was already climbing outside. The brutal subzero winds cut through the warm passenger compartment as he slammed the door shut. The night and storm stole him from her sight.

The box came loose. It was a first-aid kit, as she’d hoped it would be. Relieved, Kristin twisted back onto the seat, dug her mittens out of her coat. Her door swung open. Ryan stood just outside the light, shadow and substance as she held up the kit for him to see.

He took it from her. “Do you know how close we are to the next town?”

“I’m guessing maybe twelve, thirteen miles.” Kristin sank to midcalf in drifting snow. “It might be quicker heading back. We went, what, ten miles?”

It all added up to potential disaster. He ignored the bitter wind and the sting of flakes needling his face. All that mattered was helping the people in that car.

If he could. If it wasn’t too late.

He yanked his cell out of his pocket. Lord, please let this thing work out here. He hit auto dial and prayed for a signal.

There were no other sounds but the rapid-fire beat of his heart, the tap, tap, tap of snow and the howl of the wind through the trees. He shook his phone, not that it would do a lick of good. C’mon. Connect.

He heard the squeak of leather shoes in the compact snow behind him. One glance told him Kristin was managing. He kept in front of her, taking the brunt of the blizzard hiking along the tire tracks as they rolled through a jagged hole in the guardrail and into the darkness.

His phone beeped. He froze in place. He had a signal! There was a ring, and an emergency operator answered. It sounded like a small county station; he could hear the buzz of activity in the background. It was a busy night for the sheriff’s department, and about to get busier.

“I have a single-car accident on highway 84.” He squinted at the milepost marker hanging from a jagged arm of the guard post and reported the number to the operator.

What was he going to find? His guts twisted as he swept the miniflashlight on his key ring through the darkness. Nothing. Only horizontal snow in a black void.

Please, Lord, be with whoever is in that vehicle. Or was. Ryan steeled his spine. Prepared for what he might find, he took a step and skidded down a nearly vertical slope.

Not a good sign, either. He dug his heels in before he crashed into a tree. With pine needles cold against his face, he flashed the small light through the underbrush. Nothing. No, wait. There was a faint something. Squinting, Ryan swept the area again. Sure enough, there it was. The edge of a broken taillight reflecting some of the light back at him despite the heavy downpour and thick foliage.

It was enough of a miracle on this brutal night, that Ryan gave thanks as he crashed through limbs and over dormant blackberry bushes, following the ragged trail of tracks that led to a small sedan. The vehicle was dark and still. A very bad sign.

Help me, Father, he prayed as he snapped limbs and tore branches out of his way, sidling along the quiet car.

Too quiet. That couldn’t be good. Between shock, trauma and the freezing cold, he didn’t expect to find anyone alive.

“Hello?” Calm, focused, he broke the icy layer of snow off the driver’s window with the side of his hand. The glow of his flashlight showed a lone driver with a mass of dark curls slumped behind the wheel.

He tried the door and the handle gave. The passenger compartment was cool, but not yet cold. He began talking, calm and steady, in case the young woman could hear him. So she wouldn’t be afraid.

He wasn’t aware of Kristin crowding close to see if she could help or the snow slicing between his neck and his coat collar or the wind as he worked.

Wow, he’s sure something. Kristin’s heart hitched as she watched him work, methodical and skilled. He pressed two fingers to the woman’s jugular and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. She was alive.

Kristin leaned against the car. She’d never felt so helpless in her life. If a rental car had been available, then she may well have been here alone to help the injured driver. What good could she have done? Ryan was a blessing. He checked the young woman’s pupils while talking to her, low and soothing.

I bet he’s a great doctor. Admiration for him filled her up. She loved medical dramas on television, but this was something greater. This was real. Somber lines dug deep in Ryan’s face as he turned to her in the faint glow from his flashlight. How badly was the woman hurt?

“What can I do to help?”

“Go through the trunk. I’ll pull the latch. See if there’s anything to wrap her in. Blankets. Sheets. Something. We’ve got to get her warm.”

At least she was alive. That was something. Praying, Kristin scrambled to the back of the car, lifting the trunk after it popped up. How could he be calm and steady? Okay, he was a doctor, he was used to this, but she wasn’t. Fear jittered through her veins, leaving her quaking and her fingers clumsy as she began to push through the crowded trunk. Full laundry bags, textbooks, a laptop case… She spied a flashlight and tested it; it worked. She tucked that under her arm.

As she kept digging, Ryan’s voice pulled at her like a fish on a line. She was hooked and unable to turn away. Had she ever heard a man sound like that? A deep gravelly baritone that was both hard-edged man and infinitely caring. Powerful and dependable. A man who could make anything right.

Please, Father, help guide his hands tonight. Kristin moved aside a University of Idaho book bag, realizing the young driver was a college student, probably heading home for Thanksgiving, too. Would she be all right?

She wasn’t moving. She was unconscious. At least Ryan was here. He knew what to do. Clutching the stadium blanket she’d found beneath the book bag, Kristin carefully picked her way through the knee-deep snow.

Ryan must have heard her coming. Crouched in the open door, he twisted toward her. Worry lines furrowed deep in his forehead, but he managed a strained nod as his gaze pinned on the folded blanket. “Good. That will do just fine.”

“How is she?”

“She’s trying to stay awake for me.” Solemn, he took the blanket in exchange for his cell phone. “I’ve got dispatch to make this a priority.”

Kristin didn’t need to ask. She could see the truth in his eyes. The young college girl could be seriously injured. “What do you need me to do?”

“The car is stable. I’m not worried about it rolling any farther down the ravine. The trees here are pretty sturdy. How do you feel about climbing in the back seat?”

“Sure.” Kristin slipped the cell into her coat pocket, struggling with the stubborn door. Ice cracked around the handle and she slipped into the rapidly cooling interior of the compact sedan.

The beam of the flashlight danced eerily around the silent passenger compartment, as Ryan wedged it into place on the dashboard. The golden stream illuminated a beaded cross hanging from the rearview mirror, a small stuffed puppy tucked into the middle console next to an insulated coffee cup with the name Samantha and the Greek symbols of a sorority printed on it. And then she saw the college girl’s thick and beautiful brown wavy hair matted with blood.

Kristin shivered all the way to her bone marrow. The only time she’d seen anyone seriously hurt was after the private plane went down, when Allison had died. Her sister Kirby had also been in the plane, but had survived.

Kristin had been a freshman in high school, and with all the time that had passed since, it felt so long ago. But the images returned as crisp and clear as if they’d happened an hour ago. The fear for her critically injured sister, the beep of machines, the frightening reality of death as they all waited for Kirby to regain consciousness, terrified that she’d slip away into an irreversible coma and death.

Kirby had survived.

Please, Lord, help this young woman. She was too young to die.

“I need your help,” Ryan said, fracturing her thoughts, working quickly as he dug through the first-aid kit with one free hand. “Hold her head and neck steady from behind while I try to stop this bleeding.”

“Steady, huh?” That’s the last thing she was. Kristin stared at her quivering hands. She took a deep breath. Willed the fear to stop.

“Like this.” He guided her hands. “Cradle her as still as you can. She could have a neck injury, and this will minimize any further damage while I work. All right?”

Kristin knew he meant how important this was. The difference between paralysis and movement, between life and death. Her hands had to be rock steady. She made sure of it.

Ryan was unbreakable steel. Checking vitals, applying pressure and bandages, assessing for further injuries. As he worked, he talked low and reassuring.

“Can you hear me, Samantha? I’m a doctor, if you can believe that. And that’s Kristin, in the seat behind you. Say hi, Kristin.”

“Hi, Samantha.”

The injured woman murmured, but nothing more. Kristin felt the slightest of movements beneath her fingertips, the drum of a very slow pulse and the flex of muscles, as if the girl was trying to awaken.

“Hold her steady.” Ryan’s grave gaze said everything.

Samantha was seriously injured. Without mercy, the storm raged, the snow pounding like rain. Could help even make it through the blizzard in time? There was so little Ryan could do here, with few supplies. She didn’t dare say the words aloud. She’d never felt so helpless.

But Ryan looked confident. In charge. He was amazing. Hope seeped into Kristin’s heart as she watched his skilled hands working to stanch the flow of blood from several gashes along the girl’s hairline. Blood seemed to be everywhere, but he worked on, composed and sure. She saw on his face the dedication she expected a doctor to have. The seriousness.

And something more rare. Compassion.

When he was done, he seemed to give a sigh of relief. He checked his patient’s pulse using his wristwatch, frowned and asked for his cell. Shivering and seeming to be unaware of it, he made another call to the county dispatch.

“They’re almost here.” Ryan handed her the flashlight. “Or so the operator says. It’s hard going for them, and with this poor visibility, they could drive right past the Jeep and miss us. Would you mind going up to flag them down?”

“Sure.”

His fingers moved into place between hers, supporting Samantha’s head and neck with extreme care. She read the fear he held for the young college woman in his shadowed eyes. She remembered when her sister Kirby had been in intensive care. She knew exactly what hung in the balance. A life. She knew all that meant, truly meant, unlike so many people who went around living lives they took for granted.

All it took was a split second for everything to change. For life to never be the same again. Would Samantha live? Would she be in a wheelchair or on crutches for the years to come?

Holding on to hope for the best outcome, Kristin scrambled up the slope, fighting the wind and snow driving at her back and the brambles grabbing at her feet. The shadows she saw in Ryan’s eyes stayed with her as she fought to the top. Shadows of grief that broke her heart as she burst onto the lonely expanse of country road, where no other soul stirred on this cruel night. And so she waited, shivering and alone, for help that felt as if it would never come.

The rumble of the fire truck’s engines, muffled by the snow, faded into the distance. Although the taillights had long faded, Kristin watched. She couldn’t get the injured college student out of her mind.

Ryan marched toward her, swiping snow out of his eyes as he crossed in front of the SUV’s headlights. Burnished by light, surrounded by darkness, he looked more myth than man as he yanked open the passenger door for her.

Woodenly she eased into the seat, stiff with cold, but not feeling anything but a horrible void. Tepid air breezed out of the vents in the dash and she couldn’t feel it. The clock glowed the time—not thirty minutes had passed since they’d nearly followed Samantha Fields off the road.

Snow drifted inside with Ryan as he collapsed in the seat and slammed the door. He filled the seat, slumping with his head rolling back against the headrest. His presence made the passenger compartment shrink. “I was able to get through to Tim, a friend I used to work with. He’s one of the best surgeons in this area, and he’s agreed to meet Samantha at the hospital. He’ll take excellent care of her.”

“You took the time to do that?”

“Sure. Helping people is what I do. It’s why I studied all those years. Why I’m in debt for a few hundred grand.” Although exhaustion lined his face and bruised the skin beneath his eyes, his wink was saucy.

She had watched while he worked tirelessly alongside the medics stabilizing Samantha’s neck and spine so that she had the best possible outcome, in case of a spinal cord injury. All in a day’s work for him, maybe, but she’d never seen anyone like him.

She pulled off her mittens, now that the heater was kicking out a decent hot breeze. “Let’s trade places. I’ll drive and let you sit here and warm your hands. You’ve got to be half frozen.”

“The cold never used to bother me. I’ve been away from Montana too long. It’s the Phoenix weather. It’s thinned my blood. Now I turn into an icicle the second it snows. It’s not manly. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m embarrassed for you.” She’d never met a better example of what a man should be, but he seemed unaware that he was that and more. “Move. Go on. I can’t drive from over here.”

As if too exhausted to lift his head from the seat back, Ryan swiveled his eyes to focus on her with a disbelieving look. One eyebrow crooked with obvious skepticism. “You’d really drive? You’re not just saying that, right?”

“Right.”

“You’re not afraid to drive in this stuff?”

“Do I look as if I’m shaking in my boots? No.”

“But you’re a girl. Girls don’t drive in lots of snow. At least not in my experience.”

“You have lived in Arizona too long!” Kristin took one look at the man slouching beside her, dappled with big flakes of melting snow, his face chapped from the bitter temperatures outside. “Don’t let the designer clothes fool you. You can take the girl out of Montana, but not Montana out of the girl. Let me behind the wheel and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah? I’d be grateful if I could just close my eyes for about ten minutes.”

“How about all the way until the next town?”

“Deal.” Ryan opened the door and shouldered out into the dark. “No, you climb over and stay inside. I’ll brave the storm. I’m still frozen anyway.”

With a lopsided grin, he was gone, leaving the scent of wind, a hint of expensive cologne and man. A pleasant combination. Kristin climbed over the console and into the seat that was pushed too far back for her feet to reach the pedals. She adjusted the seat, snapped the shoulder harness into place and checked out the controls.

Ryan cut through the headlights with that confident, jaunty walk of his. He was like a hero out of an old black-and-white movie, tough and strong and compassionate. She didn’t know they made men like that anymore.

He collapsed beside her, bringing with him the frigid wind and a blast of snow. He swiped icy flakes off his eyebrows. “Believe it or not, the blizzard’s winding down some.”

“Some. Not a lot.” Kristin switched off the hazard lights, staring into the impenetrable conditions. No cars had passed, except for the emergency vehicles, since they’d arrived. The road ahead lay like a pristine ribbon of white rolling out of the reach of the headlights. Dangerous driving ahead. Kristin released the hand brake and shifted into low gear.

Ryan unzipped his coat, settling in. “Just tell me if you get too white-knuckled.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it. Belt up and hold on.” Was he a skeptic or what? It had been a long time since she’d driven anything with more power than her sensible sedan, but she was used to this weather. She hadn’t always flown home. She’d driven more often than not over the treacherous mountain passes and she was still in one piece. “This is nothing compared to commuting in Seattle traffic twice a day for more years than I care to count.”

“That’s what I can’t picture. You living in a city. I don’t know why. It just doesn’t go with the McKaslin image.”

“I won’t say it wasn’t a big adjustment when I first moved there. When I went to college, I thought Bozeman was a big city.”

“Bozeman?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a tiny city compared to someplace like Seattle. I felt lost. Every time I left my apartment I got turned around. I’d never seen so many streets and roads and freeways in my life.”

“I know how you felt—moving away from a place with one main street through town, where you know all the roads and shortcuts by heart, to a huge city where the checkers at the grocery store ask for ID because they don’t know you, your family, your grandparents and all your cousins by name.”

“See, that’s where we differ. I didn’t mind living someplace folks didn’t know me.”

Ryan leaned the seat all the way back and stretched out his legs as far as he could. Not comfortable, but an acceptable snoozing position. Except thinking about his past made him antsy. As tired as he was, his nerve endings felt as though they were twitching and his muscles felt heavy as lead. His emotions were going every which way. Regret, guilt, grief.

Nothing Kristin would understand. Some people, like her, could go home again. They would always know the warmth of their childhood awaited them, that the ghosts of memories from holidays past were happy ones. Not haunted by what should have been, and more failures than the young boy he’d been could cope with.

Or the man he’d become.

He liked to think he wasn’t a coward. He faced challenges head-on. Sucked it up and did what needed to be done. He wasn’t afraid of hardship or hard work. But some things were best left unexamined. Some memories best left buried. He had a good life, he made a good living, and he loved his work and his practice. What good was having to pick apart a past that only brought pain? That exposed wounds that could never be healed?

No, Kristin didn’t look as though she’d rather be running away instead of heading home. Her delicate profile was brushed by the glow of the dash lights, burnishing her creamy porcelain-fine skin, the feminine line of her nose and the dainty cut of her chin. He supposed her parents would welcome her with open arms, and tomorrow there would be only happiness in her home where her sisters and their families gathered to make new memories for the holidays to come.

He closed his eyes, wondering, just wondering. If he would have turned out the same if his dad had lived instead of withered away in a coma. If the logging truck hadn’t crossed the double yellow on the road to town. If, instead of being struck and pinned to the ground beneath a load of logs, Dad had returned home with the ice cream he’d gone to fetch.

God made all things for a reason. But what about tonight? Why had Samantha Fields been hurt tonight? How would her life be changed?

Only God knew.

Still, it troubled him deeply. He closed his eyes, too troubled to fall right asleep. Listening to the swipe of the wiper blades on the windshield, he felt the blast of heat from the vents. The vehicle fishtailed now and then, and Kristin handled it skillfully, keeping them safe as they journeyed through the dark and snow. He couldn’t remember feeling more lonely as the hours dragged on and sleep claimed him, blessedly deep.