Читать книгу A Love Beyond Words - Sherryl Woods - Страница 9

Allie fell in and out of consciousness. Or maybe she only slept. She just knew that every once in a while her eyes seemed to drift shut and her pain faded away. When she awoke, there was always the throbbing, more intense than ever.

“Help!” she cried out again. Surely by now there were rescuers in the area. If they could hear her, they could find her. Gasping at the pain, she steadied herself, then shouted again, “Help!”

When her shouts were met with nothing but more of the same silence, she felt as if she were calling into some huge void. As her cries continued to go unanswered, she began to lose hope. What if they never found her? How long could she stay alive in this unrelenting heat without water? Despair began to overwhelm her.

Then, suddenly, just when she was about to give up, she thought she caught sight of a faint movement far above her. Was it possible? In the pitch-blackness, she couldn’t be sure. Had there been a glimmer of light?

“Here,” she called on the chance that it hadn’t been her imagination playing cruel tricks on her. “I’m down here.”

A chunk of what once had been her roof—or maybe a wall, considering how topsy-turvy everything was—was eased away, allowing her a first glimpse of sky. Ironically, given the storm that had raged so recently, the sky was now a brilliant blue, too beautiful by far for anyone to imagine that such destruction had been wreaked by the heavens only hours before.

Relieved that she still had her sight, she wanted to simply stare and stare at the sunshine, but she was forced to close her eyes against the brilliance of it. Still, she could feel the blazing heat on her cheeks and vowed she would never again complain about Miami’s steamy climate. It felt wonderful.

When she finally dared to open her eyes again, there was a face peering back at her, the most handsome face she had ever set eyes on. Of course, at this point, she would have been entranced by a man with whiskers down to his knees and hair the consistency of straw if he’d come to save her. This man was a definite improvement on that image.

Even with his hard hat, she could see that he had black hair, worn a little too long. He had dark, dark eyes and a complexion that suggested Hispanic heritage and dimples that could make a woman weep. It was all Allie could do not to swoon and murmur, “Oh, my.”

He was too far away for her to read his lips with any accuracy, but she could see his mouth slowly curve once again into that reassuring, devastating smile. She clung to the sight of that smile. It was a reminder that life could definitely be worth living. No man had smiled at her like that in a very long time, if ever.

Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed, she admitted candidly. From the moment she’d lost her hearing, her life had taken on a single focus. Everything had been about learning to adjust, learning to cope, opening that new door…and forgetting about the social life that had once consumed her. She discovered that not many men were interested in a woman who couldn’t hang on their every word, anyway.

For fifteen years now she had had male colleagues, even a few men she counted as friends, but not a single one of them had made her blood sizzle the way this one had just by showing up. She figured it had to be a reaction to the circumstances. After all, this hardly seemed to be an appropriate time for her hormones to wake up after more than a decade in exile.

As time slid by, she kept her gaze locked on that incredible face. She sensed from the way the debris was slowly shifting above her that there was a scramble to free her, but that one man stayed right where she could see him, easing closer, inch by treacherous inch.

“Hi, Allie,” he said.

By now, he was close enough that she could read his lips. And she guessed from the way he’d spoken, being so careful to face her, that he knew she was deaf.

“Hi.” She breathed the word with a catch in her voice, even as relief flooded through her. It was going to be okay. As long as he was there, she knew it.

“Can you read my lips?”

Eyes glued to his face, she nodded.

“Good.” He reached out his hand. “Can you take my hand?”

She tried to move her arm, but it felt as if it, too, were weighted down, just like her pinned leg. She almost wept in frustration.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Hang in there a little longer. You’re being incredibly brave, and if you give us just a little more time, I’ll be able to reach you and this nightmare will be over.”

She nodded.

“Anything hurt?”

“Everything,” she said.

He grinned. “Yeah, dumb question, huh?”

He turned his head away. She could see a change of expression on his face and guessed he was speaking to someone out of sight.

More debris shifted and bits of plaster rained down on her. She yelped, drawing his immediate attention.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his expression filled with concern.

She nodded, her gaze locked with his worried brown eyes.

“Good. Then here’s the deal, Allie. I imagine you want to know what we’re up to out here, right?”

“Yes.” She wanted to know everything, even if she didn’t like it. She’d learned a long time ago that she could cope with just about anything as long as she knew what she was up against.

“Okay, then. I’m going to disappear for just a minute. We’re not happy with this approach, so we’re going to come in a different way. It’ll take a little longer, but there’s less risk. Are you all right with that?”

She wanted to protest the delay, but he was the one who knew what he was doing. She had to trust him. Gazing into his eyes, she found that she did. And even though she didn’t want him to move, didn’t want to lose sight of him, she nodded again. “Okay.”

She turned her head away to hide the tears that threatened. Suddenly she felt what seemed to be a deliberate dusting of powder sprinkle down on her face. She glanced up to find him watching her anxiously.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I needed to get your attention. I promise you’ll see me again in no time. I never leave a pretty woman in distress.”

She almost laughed at that. Even when she wasn’t under a ton of debris, no one in recent years ever said she was pretty. Now she imagined she must look a fright. She had been dressed for bed when disaster struck, wearing a faded Florida Marlins T-shirt and nothing else. At the end of the day, her hair was always a riot of mousy-brown curls, thanks to Miami’s never-ending humidity. She imagined she looked pretty much like a dusty, bloody mop about now.

“Go,” she told him. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

And then he was gone, leaving Allie to wonder if it was possible that angels ever came with dancing eyes…and looking like sin.

Ricky was still chuckling as he eased his way off the mound of debris. Allie Matthews was something, all right. Scared to death but doing her level best not to show it. He’d caught the occasional glimpse of panic in her amazing blue eyes, but not once had she complained. She had to be in pain, as well, but beyond her one joking admission, she’d never mentioned it again.

“You find something funny about this?” Tom asked, regarding him with curiosity as he leaped to the ground beside him.

“You probably had to be there,” Ricky admitted.

“How’s she doing?”

“Her sense of humor’s intact, but she can’t move. No way to tell if that’s because she’s pinned down or because of an injury. Bravest woman I ever saw, though. She’s not hysterical, but those eyes of her are killers, blue as the ocean and shimmering with tears, though she’s fighting them like crazy.”

Tom shook his head. “Leave it to you to go all poetic about a woman’s eyes in the middle of a rescue.”

“I was hoping to motivate you,” Ricky claimed, though the thought of Tom getting ideas about Allie bothered him more than he cared to admit. It was crazy to be jealous over a woman to whom he hadn’t even been introduced.

He gazed at the rubble with frustration. “Any idea how we can get in there without bringing this mess tumbling down around her?”

They stood surveying the crazy haystack of debris. It was far from the worst they’d ever seen. There had been whole apartment complexes to dig through in earthquake disasters. But Ricky had never felt a greater sense of urgency. Something about Allie’s spirit and bravery had caught his attention in a way that few women did. In just a few minutes he had felt some of that strength and resilience that her neighbor had bragged about.

For the next few hours Ricky, Tom and the others worked with tedious patience to reach Allie. When they finally had a clear view of her through a tunnel that seemed safe enough, Ricky was the one who inched forward on his belly, clearing more debris bit by bit until he could reach out and touch her hand. Again those huge, luminous blue eyes latched on to him and held him captive.

He passed a water bottle to her, but she couldn’t seem to negotiate it to her mouth. She stared at her immobile hand with evident frustration.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “I’ll get it to you. Hang in there.”

He eased forward an inch at a time, waiting between movements to make sure that the precarious arrangement of debris wouldn’t shift. Finally he was close enough to touch the plastic straw to her lips. She drank greedily, her gaze never leaving his face.

“Is Jane okay?” she asked the minute she’d satisfied her thirst.

“Jane?”

“Next door. Mrs. Baker.”

He thought of the woman who’d guided them to Allie. “About seventy-five? Five-two? Feisty?”

“Yes, yes, that’s her. She’s okay, isn’t she?”

“A cut on her forehead and possibly a sprained ankle, but you’re the only thing that seems to concern her,” he said. “She hasn’t budged since we started trying to reach you. She found a lawn chair down the block and planted it right out front so she can keep an eye on us.”

Allie grinned. “That sounds just like her. And the rest of the neighbors? How are they?”

“We’re checking on all of them now,” he said, unwilling to mention that so far there was one dead and several unaccounted for. Fortunately, she seemed to take his response at face value.

“How long have I been down here?” she asked.

“Not so long. A few hours. We got the call shortly before six a.m. It’s just about noon now,” he told her. “Must seem like an eternity to you, though.”

She nodded.

“Well, it’s almost over. You stay perfectly still, querida. I’ll have you free in no time,” he promised.

“Couldn’t move if I wanted to,” she said as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I—” her voice faltered “—I think I might be paralyzed.”

“Now, don’t go getting any crazy ideas. Looks to me as if it’s just because of the way you’re wedged in here,” he reassured her. “No need to panic. Once you’re out, I’ll take you dancing.”

The teasing drew a watery smile. “You’ll regret it. Even before this I had two left feet. On top of that I can’t exactly hear the music.”

“I’ll take you someplace where it only matters if you can swivel your hips.”

“Ah, salsa,” she said knowingly.

“With a little tango mixed in,” he said. “You’ll just have to hang on and follow my lead.”

She gave a decisive little nod. “I can do that.”

“Then it’s a date.”

All the while he talked, chattering nonsense mostly just to keep her attention focused on his face, he cleared debris from on and around her. When he saw the bloody gashes in a long shapely leg, he had to fight to keep his expression neutral.

That was the worst of it, though. If he could free her leg, he thought he could get her to safety. He just had to keep his mind on what he was doing and off the fact that she was all but naked. The T-shirt she’d presumably worn to bed was shredded indecently. She apparently hadn’t noticed that yet or else she was more brazen than he’d imagined.

“Make sure there’s a blanket ready and waiting when we come out,” he murmured into the radio tucked in his pocket, his head turned so she couldn’t read his lips. She tapped his shoulder, her expression frustrated. He smiled. “Sorry. I was talking to my partner. I just wanted to be sure he’d be ready for us when we blow this cozy little cave under here.”

It took another hour of careful excavation around her leg before he felt confident enough to move her.

“You ready?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed softly.

“I’m not guaranteeing there won’t be some pain.”

“What else is new?” she said bravely.

“You want something for it?”

“Just get me out,” she pleaded.

He cradled her as best he could, aware of every bare inch of skin he was touching, then slowly worked his way back the same way he’d come. It seemed to take forever, but at last he saw Tom’s face peering at them intently.

“You have that blanket?”

“Right here.”

Ricky reached for it, then wrapped it around Allie as best he could in the confined space, before shimmying the rest of the way out.

Allie blinked against the brilliant glare of sunlight and continued to cling to Ricky as if he were all that stood between her and an unfamiliar world.

And, of course, the neighborhood must seem strange—nothing like what it had been the last time she’d seen it before the storm. Ricky could only imagine how it must feel to emerge and find everything changed. He’d seen that same sense of shocked dismay on the faces of other victims of other tragedies as they realized the extent of the damage around them and the likelihood of casualties among their friends and family.

As for the way Allie was looking at him and holding on, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen that reaction, either. The bond between victim and rescuer could be intense, but in most instances it wasn’t long before familiar faces arrived and the bond was broken.

This time, though, only the elderly neighbor stepped forward to give Allie a fierce hug, even as the paramedics moved in to begin their work. Allie was on a stretcher and headed for an ambulance in no time, Jane right beside her, giving instructions. Ricky grinned at the bemused expressions of the paramedics at taking their orders from a pint-size senior citizen in a flowered housecoat and bright-pink sneakers.

“Wait,” Allie commanded as they were about to lift her into the ambulance. Her gaze searched the crowd.

Ricky felt a quick rush of heat at the precise moment when she spotted him. Her gaze locked on his.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, too far away for him to actually hear the words.

“You’re welcome,” he said, then deliberately turned away from the emotion shining in her eyes to move on to another complicated search taking place a few houses away.

“You going to see her again?” Tom asked as they began work on the recovery of a victim who had been less fortunate than Allie.

“I wasn’t down there making a date,” Ricky retorted.

“I was asking about your intentions.”

Those blue, blue eyes came back to haunt him. He wondered if he might not have to see her again before he could get them out of his head.

“I promised to take her dancing,” he admitted, earning a punch from Tom.

“Next time there’s a pretty woman involved, I get first dibs,” Tom said. “There’s nothing like a little gratitude to get a relationship off to the right start.”

“And what would you know about relationships, Mr. Love ’em and Leave ’em?”

“More than you,” Tom said. “I was married.”

“For about fifteen minutes.”

“Three years,” his friend corrected.

“And in that time you learned what?”

“That women get all crazy once you put a ring on their finger.”

Ricky chuckled. “Are you referring to the fact that Nikki thought you ought to stop dating other women after the wedding?”

“Very funny. You know it wasn’t that. I might have looked, but I never went near another woman during that whole three years. Nikki just got all weird about the job. She knew what I did for a living when we met, but for some reason after we got married she seemed to think I’d give it up and go to work for her father.” He shuddered. “Me, behind a desk. Can you imagine it?”

No more than he could imagine himself there, Ricky conceded. “Mama says Nikki still loves you.”

“Not enough to give up that crazy idea,” Tom said, a hint of something that might have been sorrow in his eyes. But it was gone in a flash, replaced by an irrepressible glint of laughter. “That divorce was the best thing that ever happened. Women figure if I got married once, I might risk it again. You’d be amazed what a woman will do when she’s optimistic about your potential. You should consider it.”

“What? Get married, just so I can divorce? Not me. If and when I ever take the plunge, it’s gonna have to be forever. Between Mama and the priest, my life wouldn’t be worth two cents if I even breathed the word divorce.”

“Which is why you never date a woman for more than two Saturday nights running,” Tom concluded. His expression turned thoughtful. “I wonder if Allie Matthews could make you change your mind.”

“Why would you even say something like that? I barely know the woman, and you didn’t exchange two words with her.”

“I got a good look at her, though,” Tom said. “A man doesn’t soon forget a woman who looks that incredible even after being buried under a collapsed building. Besides, if her neighbor is right about what an angel she is, she’s nothing at all like your usual dates. Did you ever consider that you make the choices you do precisely because you know they’re not keepers?”

Ricky scowled at the analysis of his love life. He had a hunch it was more accurate than he wanted to believe. “We’ve got more houses to check out,” he said, stalking away without answering Tom’s question. His friend’s hoot of knowing laughter followed him.

What if he did protect himself from winding up married by dating women he would never, ever spend the rest of his life with? What was wrong with that? It wasn’t as if he led any of them on. As Tom said, Ricky rarely went out with the same woman more than once or twice, and he always put his cards on the table, explaining that in his line of work he was on the go way too much to get seriously involved.

Maybe it was a pattern he’d developed to avoid commitment, but so what? It was his life. He liked living alone. He liked not being accountable to anyone. After spending his first eighteen years accountable to an overly protective mother, an iron-willed father and four sisters who thought his love life was their concern, he liked having his freedom. His nieces and nephews satisfied his desire for kids, at least for the moment. He got to play doting uncle, soccer coach and pal without any of the responsibility that went with being a dad.

There wasn’t a woman on earth who could make him want to change the life he had.

Satisfied that Tom was totally and absolutely wrong, he dismissed his taunt about Allie Matthews. He’d probably never even see her again, never make good on that promise to take her dancing. She wouldn’t even expect him to.

He was still telling himself that the next day, but he couldn’t seem to shake the image of Allie’s cerulean gaze as it had clung to his. If what he’d seen in her eyes had been expectations, he might have run the other way, but that hadn’t been it. There had been gratitude, but underlying that there had been a vague hint of loneliness.

He tried to imagine being rescued from the debris of his home, having only an elderly neighbor for support, rather than the huge, extended family he had. He couldn’t. He knew without a doubt that his hospital room would be crowded with people who cared whether he lived or died, people who would help him to rebuild his home and his life. Who would be there for Allie?

He spent an hour telling himself that surely a woman described as an angel would have dozens of friends who would be there for her, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Allie might not.

“Damn,” he muttered, slamming his coffee cup into the sink and grabbing his car keys.

On the drive he told himself that if he got to the hospital and found that Allie had all the support she needed, he would just turn right around and leave. That would be that. End of story. End of being haunted by those big blue eyes.

Unfortunately, something in his gut told him he was about to go down for the count.