An Accidental Hero (7 page)

Reid ignored the ache in his shoulder, already weakened by the punishing fall he’d taken from Ruthless, that monstrous-mean Brahman. He concentrated on how he’d rolled from the bull’s sharp hooves just in time to keep from being trampled, instead of remembering that Ruthless had ended his rodeo career. The discomfort of sitting in this position was secondary to what Cammi needed. Besides, she’d survived so much in these past few months that it made Reid feel good, being the one to provide this small solace for her now.

Almost as though she’d read his mind, Cammi turned toward him, her face less wan now, her eyes
a bit brighter. “You don’t have to stay, Reid. I’m fine. Honest.”

He shook his head, gave her hand a slight squeeze. No way he’d leave. For one thing, she would need someone with her when the surgeon came in to tell her about the baby. “Until your dad or one of your sisters takes my place, I’m stayin’ put.” With his free hand, he tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “Who do you want me to call first?”

She gasped quietly and covered her mouth with the fingertips of one hand.

“What? Are you in pain? Want me to get a doctor in here?”

“No—at least, not the physical kind.”

He didn’t understand, and said so.

“Your clothes. Look what I’ve done to your clothes! I’ve ruined them.”

Only then did he remember the deep maroon stains covering his entire midsection. “Work duds,” he said, sloughing it off. “Don’t give it another thought.” He didn’t like the tiny worry furrow that had formed on her brow. In an attempt to erase it, he said, “So, who can I call for you?”

Cammi stared at the ceiling and bit her lower lip. “My dad,” she said after a while, “I suppose.”

She reminded him of someone, but for the life of him, Reid couldn’t think who. He was far more interested in why she sounded so apprehensive at the mention of her father. He tried again to change the subject, flipping open his cell phone and doing his best to imitate a nasal-voiced operator. “May I have your number please….”

Grinning, Cammi recited it while Reid dialed.
“Don’t give him too many details,” she said. Almost as an afterthought, she added, “No point making him worry.”

Nodding, Reid counted the rings.

“Lamont London,” answered a deep, gravelly voice.

London?
Now
he knew why Cammi looked so familiar: She was the spitting image of Rose London—the woman he’d hit with his pickup…the woman who’d died that rainy night so many years ago! Reid swallowed, hard. Maybe he’d be lucky and there were two Lamont Londons in Amarillo, because if
this
one was—

“I don’t have all day,” the man griped. “Who is this?”

He’d recognize that angry Texas drawl in a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd at New York’s Penn Station. And why wouldn’t he, when he’d been hearing it in his nightmares for years. “I, uh, I’m calling about your daughter, sir,” he said. “Cammi wants you to know she’s fine, but she needs you to—”

“Cammi? Where is she? And if she’s fine, why can’t she talk to me herself?” Lamont demanded.

Reid could almost picture him, big and broad as a grizzly and every bit as threatening. “She’s kinda groggy right now.”

“Groggy?” Concern hardened his tone even more. “Groggy from what? Confound it, boy, I want some answers, and I want ’em
now!
”

“Then, you’d best get yourself over here and talk to her doctor.” Reid told Lamont the name of the hospital, rattled off Cammi’s room number and snapped the phone shut. He felt a mite guilty, ending
the conversation so abruptly. After what Lamont had gone through on the night of his wife’s death, being summoned to a hospital this way would surely awaken bad memories.

It awakened a few haunting memories for Reid, too, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention as he remembered that night—Lamont’s menacing glare, the hostile accusations he’d hurled outside the O.R.

Even at fourteen, Reid understood why Lamont blamed him for the accident that had clearly been Rose’s fault. Grief and sorrow had stolen the man’s ability to reason things out, erased rational thought from his mind. Years later, Reid understood it all even better. If
he
had spent years sharing life, love and children with the girl of his dreams, and a pickup-driving boy had ended it all, well, in Lamont’s boots, Reid would have been a hundred times harder on that knock-kneed young’un!

Images of the scene shook him more than he cared to admit. But Cammi needed his calm reassurances now, so he shoved the black thoughts to the back of his mind. He pocketed the phone.

“I expect your dad will be here in…” He searched for a phrase, something that would convince Cammi her father would soon be here for her. Martina was fond of saying “quick as a bunny,” so he tried it on for size. The moment the silly, feminine-sounding words were out of his mouth, Reid cringed.

It was so good to see her smile that he couldn’t help mirroring her expression. “What’re you grinning about?”

“You’re a very sweet man, Reid Alexander.”

Sweet? He’d been called a lot of things in his day, but “sweet” wasn’t one of them.

“Because something tells me ‘quick as a bunny’ isn’t part of your usual cowboy vocabulary.” She paused to lick her dry lips, then added a sleepy “So, thanks.”

Thanks? For what? he wondered, holding a straw to her mouth. “Slow an’ easy, now,” he said as she sipped. After returning the mint-green cup to the night table, he finger-combed dark bangs from her forehead. “What-say you close your eyes, try and catch a few winks before your dad gets here.”

She tilted her head, making him want to gather her close, hold her so long and so tight that nothing could ever get close enough to hurt her again.

“Thanks,” she repeated.

This time he asked his question aloud. “Thanks for what?”

“Oh, just…” Cammi shrugged. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there for me today, that’s what.”

Her voice still hadn’t regained its lyrical quality and her lower lip trembled when she spoke, he noticed. Had she overheard the doctors and nurses discussing her case? Did she already know she’d lost the baby, or merely sense it?

“I have a lot of explaining to do once my dad gets here,” she said on the heels of a ragged sigh.

He continued stroking her hair, amazed by its silky texture, trying to count the many shades of brown that gleamed among the satiny tresses. “Explaining?”

Another sigh. “I never got around to telling him
about the wedding, so he has no idea I was married, let alone that I’m a widow.”

Reid wondered why Cammi had eloped, especially considering it was common knowledge that long ago, Lamont had earned his title as one of the wealthiest men in Texas. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the big guy, because not even all his money could buy him out of hearing about the secret wedding, the death of a son-in-law he’d never met, the loss of a grandchild he knew nothing about—all in one fell swoop.

She met his eyes. “Uh-huh. I see by the shocked look on your face that you’re beginning to get the picture.”

Having been on the receiving end of Lamont’s wrath, he saw far more than she realized. Reid frowned. “You’re safe. What else could matter to the man?”

As if she hadn’t heard him, Cammi said, “He’ll be so disappointed in me.” Tears formed in the corners of her dark eyes. “Not that he isn’t used to that after all these years of being my father. Just once, I’d like to do something right…something he’d be proud of!”

Reid lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed each slender finger. “You’re safe and sound,” he said again, more forcefully this time. “He loves you, I’m sure, so that’s all he’s gonna care about.”

“From your lips to God’s ear.”

He bit back the urge to say,
What’s God got to do with it?
If the Almighty had been doing His job up there, Reid thought, Cammi wouldn’t be lying here now, worrying how her father would take the news. “Get some sleep,” he said instead. “You’re lookin’ a mite pasty-faced.”

“My, but you’re good for a girl’s ego.”

Smiling, Reid used the palm of his hand to gently close her eyes. “Shh,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. He hadn’t noticed till now all the faint freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. “Say another word and I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”

Her delicately arched brows rose slightly.

“I’ll have to sing you to sleep,” he explained, “and believe me, my lullabies sound scarier’n a coyote’s howl.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she whispered. “After all you’ve done for me today, anything that comes out of your handsome mouth will be music to my years.” Cammi sighed. “I’ll go to sleep, but only to spare the ears of the patients down the hall, mind you.”

Cammi was fast asleep before Reid finished tucking the covers under her chin. He sat back, glanced at his wristwatch. Any minute now, Lamont London would arrive, no doubt carrying a full head of steam—and finding Reid Alexander in his daughter’s room would do nothing to improve his mood. And Cammi sure didn’t need to witness the angry scene, especially not in her condition.

Besides, Reid had promised to drive Billy and Martina to Fort Worth later. He’d called several times to report on Cammi’s condition, and they’d rescheduled Billy’s appointment for that evening. “I’ll check on you soon,” he promised, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

He couldn’t help but wonder about the affectionate little gestures he’d been doling out to Cammi, almost from the moment they’d met. He had never been
physically demonstrative, not even with people he knew well and loved with all his heart.

In the doorway, he stopped for one last glance. She looked like a vision, thick black lashes dusting her lightly freckled cheeks, satiny hair spilling across her pillow like a mahogany halo. He could think of only one word to describe her:
Beautiful
…inside and out. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. On the rare occasions when he allowed himself to dream of a wife and a houseful of kids, it was a woman like Cammi he pictured at his side, sharing life’s ups and downs.

He wished he could be here, holding her hand, when the doc came back to deliver the sorry news about the baby. But Reid had a far bigger regret than that.

Soon she’d put two and two together, and when she realized
he’d
been the other driver in the accident that killed her mother, he’d be lucky if she didn’t hate him.

“Sweet dreams, pretty lady,” he whispered sadly. “God knows you deserve them.”

One thing was certain…
his
dreams tonight sure wouldn’t be sweet.

Cammi didn’t know how much time had passed since Reid brought her to the hospital. She only knew it felt as if she’d gone thirteen rounds in a boxing match. Blindfolded. With her hands tied behind her back.

Everything ached, from the soles of her feet to her scalp. Squinting, she rested a palm on her stomach.
Father,
she quietly prayed with a lump in her throat,
watch over us and protect us.
Despite her fervent prayer, deep down she feared her baby was already lost to her.

Reid had watched over them, Cammi admitted. She’d always taken pride at not being the clingy, needy type, but she didn’t remember needing anyone more than she’d needed Reid today. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she could thank him now for all he’d done. But she’d gone and fallen asleep, and while she was off in dreamland, he’d taken her at her word, and left.

She’d roused enough, there at the end of his visit, to remember the way he’d said goodbye. His tone had confused her, because he’d sounded as if he’d never see her again. Not that she could blame him, all things considered.
Big handsome guy like that,
Cammi thought,
deserves better than the likes of me.

Even the simple act of running a hand through her hair reminded her of him, of how he’d gently tucked a curl behind her ears, brushed the bangs from her eyes. She stared at her left hand, thinking of the way he’d kissed each knuckle…all but her ring finger, that is. And was it any wonder? What man in his right mind would deliberately saddle himself with a woman who carried such heavy burdens.

Dr. Lucas walked into the room just then, white lab coat flapping behind him, stethoscope clacking against the pen in his lapel pocket. “Mrs. Carlisle,” he said, kindly extending his hand. “Remember me?”

She’d been pretty out of it when he introduced himself before surgery, but yes, she had a vague recollection. Cammi nodded and shook his hand. “Thanks
for stopping by, Doctor. I was just wondering about…things.”

He dragged the chair beside her bed closer, spun it around and sat, forearms resting on its back. “How much do you recall of what I told you outside the operating room?” he asked, laying her chart on the night table.

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

Lucas nodded. “Well, let me go over it again. For starters, everything looks fine. Your D-and-C went very well and—”

“D-and-C?” Cammi’s heartbeat quickened. She grabbed the bed controls, pushed the raise backrest button. “So, it’s true, then?” Tears stung her eyes. “I lost the baby?”

Nodding gravely, Lucas said, “I’m afraid so.” He leaned forward. “But there wasn’t a thing you could have done to prevent it. Most people have no idea how common miscarriages are. It’s no consolation, I know, but it might help some to know that ten percent of all pregnancies end sometime between the seventh and twelfth week.”

He’d been right. The information did absolutely nothing to console her. “But I fell this morning, and last night I was involved in a minor traffic accident….”

“Fact is, by the time a miscarriage begins, the baby has already been lost for quite some time.” Shaking his head, Lucas added, “Neither your fall nor your accident is responsible for this. One of the hardest things about miscarriage is that most of the time, there’s no clue as to the cause.”

He grabbed her file, flipped to the second page.
“We ran the whole battery of tests on you, starting with a transvaginal ultrasound and HCG to confirm you were, indeed, pregnant, CBC to determine the amount of blood loss, WBC to rule out potential infections. The D-and-C was mostly precautionary, because remaining tissue can cause infection.”