Читать книгу More Than a Cowboy - Susan Hornick - Страница 9

“You’re set to go,” the nurse said, taking the release form from Haley. “Take it easy, now. You’re going to be sore for a while.”

Haley slid off the exam table and touched the bandage covering her stitches. Every muscle protested. She stood up and moved toward the door. A call button blinked in the next room. “If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to come back,” the nurse said, disappearing behind the next curtain.

Little by little, warmth seeped back into Haley’s veins, bringing with it a wretchedness of mind she’d never known before. She glanced at the clock. Nearly nine-thirty. Barely an hour had passed since she’d agreed to let Hap bring her to the hospital and check her over. The emergency room was almost empty; the halls quiet, except for the steady blip of a monitor and the puff, hiss of the oxygen feed coming from a room down the hall. His room.

She had to pull herself together before facing Hap. The stitches in her forehead throbbed. Her body ached with reddening bruises. But bruises would heal. She wasn’t so sure about her spirit.

She should leave and never look back, but the room drew her like an invisible magnet. Not the room. Him. He drew her. She’d put him here. In spite of everything, she couldn’t walk away. What if he died? What if he lived? What would that mean for Sarah? If he found out about Sarah…

Her mouth moistened with bile. She inched down the hall and stopped at the glass partition, touching the scrawled name card beside the exam room. Mitch Jessup. She’d never thought about him as a person—until now. He’d been a monster in her nightmares. A name she’d chosen to forget—until now. Fear made her step back, but an unseen hand seemed to urge her forward. She stepped into the room.

Mitch’s pale face blended into the pillowcase as though he was a part of it. Several bags hung from a pole, connected to him through IV tubes. The nurse pushed medication into one, then adjusted the fluid drip and looked up.

“Must have been some wreck,” she said. “Are you a relative?”

Haley’s hand shook. They were related. Through Sarah. “Sort of.” She looked away. “How bad is he?”

“Stable for now. He’s headed for surgery. The doctor’s reviewing the X-rays. He’ll be back,” she said.

“I’ll wait if you don’t mind.”

“It’s good that he’s not alone.”

The nurse checked Mitch’s pulse, gave Haley’s arm a pat and left. Haley edged closer. A deep gash ran along his jaw. Cuts streaked his arms, some stitched, some held together by butterfly strips. She suspected the worst injuries lay hidden beneath the sheet. His dark hair stood out against the pillow. Sunken cheeks gave his face a death-like appearance. Except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, he looked like a corpse, nothing like the man she’d met at the carnival that hot July night eight years ago.

She’d lied to Pop about where she was going, knowing full well he would refuse to let her go. She’d seen the tall, handsome cowboy the moment she’d entered the gate—felt his eyes roam over her. He had a strong square jaw with full, high cheekbones; crisp dark hair that curled around his neck and a dazzling smile that made her heart skip.

He was older, worldly and smooth, and just a tad drunk. But not so drunk that he hadn’t known what he was doing. He was all the forbidden things she’d been told to stay away from and everything that enticed an innocent teen full of curiosity and whimsical dreams.

“I’m Haley,” she’d offered.

His grin had turned her knees to Jell-O. “Hello, Haley.” He bowed. “Mitch Jessup, at your service. But you can call me Lancelot. Seems my Guinevere has stood me up.”

“I’ll be Gwen,” she’d murmured.

He’d touched her arm. “I’d like that. Wanna ride the carousel with me?” He’d leaned toward her, his lips only inches from hers. The flirtation seemed so trivial then. Not so, now.

The monitor blipped again. Haley jumped, stepped back, then moved closer to the bed, blocking her thoughts, holding the past behind the barrier that had preserved her for so long.

She wanted him to suffer, not die. If he died, it would be on her head, one more guilt to add to her list of sins. A sob escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and squeezed her head between her hands, unwilling to face him, unable to turn away.

“Haley,” Mitch whispered. “It is you.”

She opened her eyes and backed toward the door. Reason told her he couldn’t hurt her. He was too busted up. But fear didn’t know reason. He lifted his arm and groaned.

“Don’t go.”

Haley’s legs shook, but she stopped inching toward the door. “I’ve hated you for so long.” Her gaze drifted over him, avoiding his eyes. “I never wanted this.”

His eyes glazed with pain. “I know. Not your fault. None of it….”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You took everything,” she said. “My trust, my innocence. All you left in me was shame and fear.”

His eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry…isn’t…enough. I want you to hurt, like you’ve hurt me.”

His head moved back and forth as though her words haunted him. “If I could…change that night…God knows.”

Haley clenched her teeth. “Don’t you dare drop the God bomb on me.”

Mitch’s attempted smile ended in a grimace. “Felt that way once or twice.” His body spasmed. He caught his breath. “God can heal this. Heal us.”

“Us…?” She shrank from the word, from his pleading eyes. “I’ll never forgive you for what you did.”

“No.” He looked incredibly tired. “Forgive yourself.” He gasped and looked straight through her. “Give God the hurt. Only way past it.” He gasped, then closed his gray-green eyes.

Sarah’s eyes.

Haley’s breath caught. Whatever else Mitch Jessup was, he was Sarah’s father. Something inside her knotted like tangled rope.

Mitch’s lips quivered. “Don’t let what I did…keep you in darkness.”

His chin dipped a tad, rose as though he were struggling to remain awake, then his head rolled sideways. Haley took a step forward and stopped.

Don’t you dare die.

For a brief moment his chest stilled, then moved. She released her breath with the movement. Sorry wasn’t enough to make up for what he’d destroyed. Mitch Jessup planted her child with violence. She wanted him to pay, not die.

Don’t live in darkness. Let God have it.

Anger burned through her. God had abandoned her behind a vacant booth that night, holding a basket full of destroyed dreams. God had left her nurturing a life she hadn’t asked for and wouldn’t destroy.

The wounds God had allowed denied her all that she dreamed of, leaving her fearful of intimacy, unable to shed the shackles of the past, unable to give Sarah or herself the kind of life they wanted.

And now God had allowed this man back into her life. To what purpose? If God had forgiven Mitch Jessup after what he’d done, she wanted no part of God. There was no way she could ever forgive Mitch.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded.

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Anguish rang in his whispered words.

Haley hardened her heart. “It isn’t enough.”

She pivoted and rushed down the hall, away from his pleading eyes and wasting body. Someone called to her, but she didn’t answer. She shoved the emergency door open and gulped in a cleansing breath, but the tepid air couldn’t erase the smell of death any more than the night’s darkness could hide what her mind held.

Hap’s battered truck waited by the curb, empty. She yanked the door open and slid inside, resting her head against the worn upholstery. A few minutes later, he slid into the seat beside her.

“Somebody light yer tail on fire?” he said softly.

Haley jerked upright. Pain shot through her neck and sides. She wanted to leave this place and all of its memories behind and never look back. But now and forever, they would follow. Sarah was all that mattered. She must protect Sarah.

“Where were you?” she asked.

Hap handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “Looking for you. Didn’t you hear me call to you? Ya scared that nice nurse right outta her shoes takin’ off like that.”

Haley took a big gulp, scalding her tongue, welcoming the pain that drew her back from the past. “I didn’t see her.”

Hap slanted a look her way and started the engine. His gray eyes filled with sympathy. “Saw the doc. He said you’re going to be sore but okay. Not so sure about the other fella.” Hap pulled out of the parking lot. “Thought about what you plan to tell Sarah?”

Haley glanced back at the hospital entrance. “That I’m battered but okay.”

Hap eased into a turn with the same quiet manner he did everything. Even in the darkness, she could almost picture the well-oiled wheels in his mind rewinding the video, viewing and analyzing each event in detail. A street light illuminated his face. He glanced her way. In a flash she saw his hurt, not for himself, but for her and Sarah. Tears stung her eyes.

“You don’t have to shade the facts no more. Your Pop ain’t here for you to protect, Haley. Even if he was, he’d understand. Do you plan to tell Sarah the truth about her father?” he asked without reproof or absolution.

“The truth, Hap? What is the truth?”

He turned the truck again, bringing the fair-grounds into view. “Wasn’t sure until I saw you leaving that young man’s room. Things never did set right with your story. Didn’t happen the way you said, did it?” He reached a hand out and patted her arm. “What do you plan to do about it?”

His face turned toward her, his compassion covered by darkness. Haley’s pulse hammered against her throat.

“Nothing. I can’t, Hap. And for Sarah’s sake, you won’t either.”

Jared raced into Mitch’s room as the nurse injected something into Mitch’s IV and unlocked the bed wheels. Tubes and needles poked from Mitch’s body. Jared slid to a stop, too stunned to move.

“Jared?” the nurse asked, rolling Mitch’s bed toward the elevator.

“Yes.”

“He’s been asking for you. You can go part of the way to surgery with us.”

“How bad?” Jared said.

The nurse poked the elevator button, but didn’t look up. “I’ve seen worse,” she said, checking the IV flow.

Jared took Mitch’s hand and felt a weak squeeze. “I’m here, Mitch. I understand you rode Resurrection.”

“Yeah.” Mitch’s voice faded. “Rode him. Bull still won. You should’ve seen it.”

“Guess that means you’ll have to retire for a while on your winnings until you get better.”

Mitch’s hand went slack. Jared held on as the elevator ascended to the second floor.

“Won’t get…better. Your meeting…” Mitch whispered.

“Went well,” Jared said, shutting out the fear gnawing at his throat. “I should have been here.”

Mitch’s heavy lids opened, revealing eyes that seemed to see into another dimension. “We didn’t know my ride would be rescheduled. God did. As it should be…” His voice faded. “Where is she?”

Jared glanced at the nurse. “Who?”

Mitch gulped in a breath. “Haley. She was here.”

“There was a young woman here earlier but I think she left,” the nurse explained. “She said she was family.”

“Who’s Haley, Mitch?” Jared asked.

Mitch struggled to stay awake. “I…. Don’t let her go…” He swallowed. “I…need to forgive…”

The words slurred together, not making sense. Jared bent closer. The connection with Mitch faded.

“You hang on, Mitch.” Jared gripped the bed rail. “You hear me? Hang on. I need you.”

“Promise,” Mitch said.

“Anything. What?”

Mitch’s fingers circled Jared’s hand. “Haley gets the money.” His eyes closed. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

The elevator doors opened. A male attendant scrambled in to assist the nurse. Jared trotted to keep up as they pulled the gurney toward the surgery’s double doors.

“Wait here,” the attendant said. “Someone will check in with you later.”

Jared’s heart pounded against his chest.

Mitch’s lips parted. “It’s okay. I’m ready to go. Remember…promise.”

Jared’s gut clamped. “I’ll remember, Mitch. But you’re going to be all right.”

The doors banged shut, cutting off Jared’s words. He winced and stared through the glass until Mitch disappeared behind another set of doors. The hall was quiet, dark and empty. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed back to the waiting room.

Memories burned his mind—high school rodeos, football games, prom. Their parents had married when Jared was in the fifth grade and Mitch a year behind. Every important event in their lives had been shared. He raked a hand through his hair and glanced around the room. Empty paper cups and wadded tissues lay scattered in the waiting room, remnants from the last occupants. A hardback Bible sat isolated on a table.

Jared sank into the chair and ran his fingers over the gold lettering. For eight years Mitch had been out of his reach. He’d searched and prayed, desperate to keep Mitch out of trouble, but Jared hadn’t been able to protect him. He couldn’t protect him now. He squeezed the Bible between his hands. He couldn’t lose his brother. Mitch had to live.

Jared bowed his head. Please, God, don’t let Mitch die.

He passed the hours pleading to God on Mitch’s behalf. Then the hospital paging system crackled.

“Code blue.”