Bad Penny (7 page)

Someone had found her! Someone was coming to help. A few steps farther and she realized she knew that voice—and the man behind it. She began to weep.

She could see him clearly now and began to shake, her heart hammering against her eardrums until she thought her head was going to explode. It never occurred to her to be concerned that she was naked. She couldn’t have cared less if the whole world saw. All that mattered was the man who caught her up into his arms and swept her off her feet. The man who loved her. She heard him thanking God for sparing her right before he buried his face in the curve of her neck and began to cry.

Cat felt the tremors in his body as sharply as the ones in her own. She couldn’t find the words to say what she was feeling. All she could do was hold on.

Finally Wilson lifted his head, running his fingers over her face, then her

body, oblivious to the transfer of mud from her to him. He saw some abrasions and scratches, but in the grand scheme of things, they didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was still in one piece.

“Catherine…Catherine…oh, God…I thought I’d lost you.” He shook his head, then pulled her to him again. “I don’t know what happened,” Cat said.

“It doesn’t matter, baby,” he said gently. “In fact, it’s just as well. Revisiting hell is never a good idea.”

Cat stifled a sob as Wilson resisted the urge to tighten his grip. He couldn’t tell if or where she was hurt and didn’t want to make things worse. But what he did know was that her presence was a miracle.

Once, when he’d been a kid, he’d seen a whole house taken completely off its foundations and dropped into a pasture a half mile away, while leaving a cup and saucer completely intact on the kitchen table back where it once had stood. The fact that this tornado hadn’t skinned her alive was enough for him.

All of a sudden he remembered the helicopter overhead and the approaching vehicles behind him. He popped the snaps on his shirt, yanked it off and then helped her put it on. His hands were shaking as he struggled to fasten it back up. The shirt covered her to mid-thigh. It would have to do.

When he’d finished, he hugged her again, then laid his cheek against the

crown of her head.

“The truck is in the pond. I thought you were in it.” Cat shuddered, then closed her eyes as he held her.

“I tried to tell myself it would take more than an act of God to take you down.” Then he stood back and fixed her with a pointed look. “You have, however, just used up your fourth life. I’m asking you to be a little more cautious with the last five.”

His reference to the old wives tale about a feline having nine lives was not lost on Cat.

She’d survived the car wreck that had killed her mother when she was six; then, at the age of thirteen, she’d lived even after having her throat cut as she watched her father being murdered. Less than two months ago, she’d been beaten to the edge of death by Solomon Tutuola. Now this. Wilson was right. She was pushing her luck.

Behind them, she heard someone honking a horn. Startled, she flinched, then swayed.

Wilson quickly steadied her. “Hang on to me, baby.”

Reality was beginning to surface. People were approaching, and she was a disaster in progress. She felt her hair, then her cheeks, before peeling a leaf from her neck.

“My clothes…I don’t know what happened to my clothes.” Wilson cupped her face, then bent until their foreheads were touching.

“They’re in pieces all over the damned pasture,” he said. “I was afraid you were, too.”

Cat leaned against him as the sound of an approaching vehicle became louder. Wilson watched his father driving across the pasture, dodging debris as he went. In his wake were the camera crew and their van.

“It’s Dad,” Wilson said.

Cat turned to look; then her eyes widened. “The others? Who are they?”

“News crews. They’re all over the place, filming the destruction. Dad and I ran into them when we were looking for you.”

Carter came to an abrupt stop, slammed the shift into Park and got out on the run. He’d been so sure Cat was at the bottom of the pond…To see her alive and standing was more than a miracle.

“Lord have mercy, girl…you’re okay. You’re okay.”

He wanted to hug her but was afraid he would hurt something beneath all the mess, so he settled for a soft pat on the back. “Come on to the truck, honey. We need to get the both of you home. Wilson went in the water after you three times. Last time he went under, I didn’t think he was gonna come up. I was already planning on where to hide, because I knew I

couldn’t go home and face Dorothy without our kids.” At that, Cat began weeping openly again.

“Lord, don’t do that,” Carter muttered, as he swiped at his eyes. “You’re gonna have all of us bawling like babies. So let’s get in the truck before those newspeople get here and want an interview.”

“I’ll get the seats filthy,” Cat said.

“I don’t give a damn,” Wilson said as he swept Cat off her feet and carried her to the truck. He sat her on his lap as Carter started the engine, his arms around her shoulders, hoping to cushion the ride as the truck took off, bouncing across rough ground on the way back to the road. They passed a news crew that tried to flag them down.

“Don’t stop,” Cat begged.

“Don’t worry, honey. I won’t,” Carter said. As they drove past the pond, Cat gasped. “Is that your truck?”

Wilson wouldn’t even look at it. He just kept looking at her. “I thought you were in it,” he said.

Cat heard the break in his voice and shuddered. But for the grace of God,

she would have been. Then she closed her eyes. She’d seen all the tornado damage she cared to.

By the time they cleared the field and got out onto the road, the news crew had obviously decided what they had on film was enough and went in the opposite direction, off to the next scene of disaster.

It was none too soon for Wilson. But when they reached the ranch, the yard was full of vehicles. The limb that had gone through the living room window was gone, and his brother Charlie was nailing a piece of plywood over the opening, while two of his sisters were sweeping up glass. He could see one brother-in-law down at the corral nailing up a broken panel and another throwing debris into the back of his pickup.

“Looks like Mom made a few phone calls,” Wilson said. Then Dorothy came out of the house carrying a blanket.

Carter sighed. “Yeah, and I did, too. I called your mom after you found Catherine. If she’s still crying, don’t say anything. It’ll only make her cry harder.”

Wilson gave Cat a quick kiss on the cheek. “You know the routine,” he said. “Just let her fuss. You’ll both feel better.”

The thought of facing everyone in this condition was daunting. Cat clutched Wilson’s hand. “Don’t leave me.”

He just shook his head. “Don’t worry, baby. After all this, you’d have to kill me to get rid of me.”

Cat exhaled shakily as Dorothy reached the truck, took one look at Cat and burst into tears.

Carter frowned. He couldn’t bear to hear a woman crying, especially one of his.

“Now, Dorothy, don’t cry. She’s gonna be all right.”

Dorothy began swiping at her tears as she wrapped the blanket around Cat’s shoulders, then held her close.

“I’ve never been so scared. We thought we’d lost you. Thank God. Thank God. As soon as we get the both of you cleaned up, we’re heading for the emergency room.”

Cat wouldn’t—couldn’t—argue. She was overwhelmed by the depth of everyone’s concern, and when the rest of the family began crowding around her, all talking at once and marveling at what had happened to her, she couldn’t stop the tears. She glanced back once, just to make sure Wilson was still behind her. When she saw him, her gaze went straight to his wet, muddy clothes and his bare chest. The healing bullet wounds were still an angry red. He didn’t look any better than she felt.

She pushed her way through the crowd and reached for him. Wilson grabbed her hand, then stepped up beside her. She patted his chest.

“You need to warm up and get into some dry clothes,” she said, then looked to Dorothy for confirmation.

“And so do you,” Dorothy added.

Cat nodded. As long as they were on the same page regarding Wilson’s recovery, everything was good.

The family followed them down the hall, stopping short at the door to their bedroom.

“If you need something, give a yell,” Dorothy said, then kissed Cat on the cheek. “Thank the lord you’re all right.”

Then she shooed everyone away, leaving Cat and Wilson to tend to their own cleaning up. They went inside, and for a moment simply savored the silence. After the desolation they’d witnessed outside, the familiarity of their neatly kept bedroom seemed surreal. But the longer Cat stood, the stiffer and colder she was getting.

Wilson saw her shiver.

“Into the shower with you,” he said gently.

“You first,” Cat said, concerned about the exertion he’d suffered.

“No, baby. Together. You’re shivering, and I can already see bruises beneath the mud. Let’s get clean and warm, then we’ll deal with the rest of it.”

Cat sighed.

Together.

It had taken her a long time to accept it, but as long as they were together, she knew she could face anything.

The trip to the emergency room had been brief. Wilson was given a thumbs-up quicker than Cat. The staff had taken X-rays to make sure she didn’t have any broken bones, a concussion had been ruled out, and they’d cleaned all her cuts and abrasions. None were deep enough to need stitches, so she’d been sent home with pain pills and blessings.

Now night had come, but Wilson couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing the back end of his truck sticking out of the water and Cat floating lifelessly inside it.

Cat was restless, too. Twice she’d cried out in her sleep, and both times he’d eased her with a touch and a whisper in her ear to remind her she was safe. But when she woke just before daylight and slid her arms around his neck, his exhaustion disappeared.

“Make love to me, Wilson. My mind has been stuck on rewind all night. If I have to relive those moments when I thought I was going to die one more time, I’ll scream. I need to remember what it’s like to be alive.”

Wilson rose up on one elbow to gaze down at her face. The room was lit by the blue glow of a full moon shining through the gap in the curtains. Even in the dimness, the scratches and bruises on her body were more pronounced than they’d been when they’d gone to sleep. But then he looked in her eyes. They were on fire. She was still the same strong,

audacious woman she’d been when they’d first met, coming down a staircase in a blazing building with an unconscious man slung over her shoulder, demanding he get out of her way.

“Honestly, Cat, I’m scared to touch you. You’re covered in bruises.” “They’re only skin deep. The ache I have for you is bottomless.” He sighed. That was persuasion he couldn’t ignore.

He kissed her then, and heard the sound of a sob—soft, barely detectable. He knew how she felt.

“I love you, Catherine. So much,” he whispered, and then began a slow journey of rediscovery, making sure he acknowledged every scratch and bruise on her skin—first with his fingers, then with his lips.

She was his life.

The fear that had accompanied Cat into sleep was gone, replaced by a building fire deep in her belly. The man who’d fought so hard to win her heart was reminding her how much she was loved. She knew his tenderness, felt his passion, accepted his love. When she felt his mouth on the inside of her thigh, she moaned.

Wilson hesitated, then looked up. “Did I hurt you?”

Cat slid her fingers through his hair and grabbed hold. “Only if you stop.”

Moonlight caught on the single earring in his ear, then on the glitter in his eyes.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

Cat turned loose of his hair and grabbed hold of the headboard instead. It was none too soon. She felt his fingers, then his mouth, then the warmth of his breath as he took her where she wanted to go.

The first climax came hard and fast, rocking Cat to her bones and leaving her gasping for breath. Before she knew what was happening, he took her back to the peak, then up and over—this time shattering what was left of her.

By the time he was inside her, she was weeping. “Are you still afraid?” he asked.

“No…God, no.”

“Tell me, Catherine. I need to hear you say it.” “I love you.”

He sighed.

She said it again. “I love you, Wilson.” He slid his hands beneath her hips.

She raised her arms, pulling him down until his cheek was resting in the curve of her neck.

“I don’t just love you. I want to have babies with you. I want to grow old with you.”

Her words humbled him. He rose up on his elbows as she added one last request.

“Make love to me again, Wilson.” “Again?”

“Yes, but this time…do it for you.”

She saw his nostrils flare, and then a muscle jerked on the side of his cheek as he swept her away.