One of the Boys (20 page)

She shivered with gut-wrenching fear when the chief approached her, his face grave.

“The doc just confirmed that Colonel MacRae was one of the injured. His burns aren't too bad, but he inhaled a lot of smoke pulling one of the crew out from under some burning debris. They've already transported him to the hospital.”

He reached out a hand to steady her as she rocked back on her heels. “I'm sorry—I wish I could tell you more about how he is. But maybe Doc—”

Maggie was racing toward the clump of medics before he could finish.

The doctor assured her that Mac's condition, although critical, was stable. He was unconscious, and they feared lung damage. The doc couldn't, or wouldn't, say more, but he did add that the hospital commander, a noted surgeon, was already with the emergency-room crew awaiting the ambulances. Mac would be in good hands.

Maggie worked frantically with Jack to cover her
checklist items. She guessed it would be at least three or four hours until the initial assessment was complete, and then there'd be days and weeks of investigative reports. But Jack could handle it from here.

The on-scene commander took her report, agreed Jack could handle the cleanup, then arranged a ride for her back to the main base in one of the police cars. With a grim shake of his head, he returned to the business at hand.

“Maggie!”

The thin wavering cry greeted her as she got off the elevator and hurried down the pale hospital corridor toward the intensive-care unit. She recognized Davey's voice even before two figures came hurtling toward her from a small waiting room to one side. She knelt down to hug one small body in each arm.

“Don't cry, Danny,” she whispered to a dark head buried in her shoulder. “I talked to the doctors downstairs. They're sure your dad will be okay.”

Actually, the hospital commander, whom she'd met at a couple of parties, said he was sure Mac would pull through. Something about his being a tough son of a—

“Maggie, they say Colonel Mac has burned his lungs. That he's on a respirator.” Mrs. Harris joined the group in the middle of the hallway. Maggie held out her hand and Kate gripped it hard.

Maggie loosened her hold on the twins. “Come on, troops. Let's get out of the hallway before the hospital orderlies sweep us up and out.”

When the small group were seated in the waiting area, Kate wadded her handkerchief into a tight ball. “Did you say you talked to the doctors, Maggie?”

“Yes. The hospital commander stopped me on my way up here. He'd just checked on Mac and said he was doing as well as could be expected. I guess that's medical jargon for hanging in there. He's well enough for them to allow me a quick visit, anyway. Have you seen him?” she asked the boys.

“No, they wouldn't let us in,” Davey answered waveringly. “The nurses have been real nice, though,” he added after a quick swallow. “They come out every so often to let us know how he's doing.”

“Well, I got the okay from the big man himself, so I'll go check. I'll see if they'll let you in.”

Maggie wiped her finger gently across Danny's cheek to catch a lingering tear. She ached to kiss them both, but wasn't sure just how nine-year-old boys felt about kisses. She contented herself with one last ferocious squeeze.

The nurse in charge led her to one of the six beds that formed an open circle in front of the monitoring desk. Maggie wasn't prepared for the sight of Mac lying so still and helpless. He had a respirator tube taped to his mouth and various intravenous lines running into one arm. Gauzy tentlike structures covered both arms almost to his shoulders. A light gauze pad ran down one side of his face, from forehead to chin.

“Oh, Mac,” she whispered. She wanted desperately to hold his hand, touch some part of him, but was afraid to disturb any of the bandages or cause him pain. She looked helplessly at the nurse standing on the other side of the bed.

“Don't worry,” the woman said with a sympathetic smile. “He's doing fine. They've already decided not to send him with the others to the burn center in San An
tonio. All these tubes make him look a lot worse off than he is.”

Maggie smiled her thanks as the older woman turned to leave. She spent the next few minutes in a chair pulled up close to Mac's side, whispering softly to him. She could never recall afterward just what she tried to tell him in those first worry-filled moments.

The boys and Kate waited for her anxiously, along with a gathering crowd of Mac's co-workers and friends. Several officers who knew Mac were there already, some with their wives. The Eglin commander, a major-general almost as big as Mac, arrived within a half hour. He spoke to each of the boys and to Maggie and Kate after he'd taken a quick look in on Mac. The boys were allowed one short visit, which they took surprisingly well, before agreeing to go home with their friend Joey's dad.

Time passed in a blur for Maggie after that. It seemed as if there was a constant stream of folks coming to inquire about Mac. A surprising number knew her and knew of her relationship with him. Finally, late that evening, the traffic died down and it was just Kate and Maggie. They were allowed brief visits on the hour. Throughout the long night, the two women took turns making trips into the intensive-care unit, and their shared worry brought them closer.

Maggie spent her short spells at Mac's bedside perched on the edge of a hard chair, whispering soft nonsense to the accompanying hum of the hospital machinery. She finally worked up the nerve to touch him gently on his sheet-covered thigh. With every light stroke she thought about their last conversation, when he had told her he wanted them to marry. And with
every stroke, she knew that was what she wanted, too, more than anything else in the world.

The same pattern repeated itself the next day. Kate convinced Maggie to bring some things to the house and stay with her and the boys, rather than make the long lonely drive around the bay to her Destin condo. She moved into a spare bedroom and managed to keep Woof out long enough for a brief nap in the afternoon before heading back to the hospital.

Mac's father arrived that evening. Maggie would've felt awkward if he hadn't greeted her with a warm twinkle in his blue eyes, which looked so like his son's her breath caught in her throat.

“So this is the little girl Mac's told me about.” He grinned. The older man carried his years well on his big frame. “I understand you're soon to become part of the family,” he added, taking her hand in both of his.

Maggie nodded slowly, but without hesitation. Another line crossed, she thought. “If he still wants me. I'm afraid I've given your son a rough time.”

“Good,” his loving dad replied with deep satisfaction. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy in life.”

He spent several hours at the hospital before Maggie convinced him to go home with Kate for the night.

Much later, when the hospital had settled into that peculiar somnolent state during which patients rested and the staff worked quietly, Maggie went in for her hourly visit and found Mac awake. He tried to grin at her around the tube taped to his mouth and failed miserably. It was the most gorgeous grimace Maggie had ever seen.

“Hello, Mac.” She smiled down at him. “'Bout time you decided to rejoin the living.” She sat down and
began what by now was an unconscious light stroking of his thigh. “Kate and the boys and your dad were here earlier. They're all okay,” she told him. She knew the boys would be his first concern.

“How…how long?” he managed to get out around the tube.

“Two days now. I'm not sure how much you remember. There was an accident, a cable broke and hit a vehicle.”

Mac nodded. He remembered everything. Including the screams of the man trapped under the burning vehicle.

“Three men were hurt. They're still not sure if the one you pulled out will make it. They were all taken to the burn center in San Antonio.”

He lifted one singed brow in query and nodded at his arms, still under their light gauzy tents.

“You've got second-degree burns on both arms and on one side of your face. The doctors were afraid you'd seriously damaged your lungs, but it's not as bad as they first thought. They'll give you the details now that you're awake.”

She turned to alert the nurse of Mac's consciousness. A swarm of medical specialists soon surrounded him, and Maggie retreated to the waiting room. Alone in the dim light, she huddled in one corner of the couch. She drew up her legs, rested her folded arms on her knees and gave way to the tears she'd held back all those terrifying hours.

When she finally went back in to see Mac, he was asleep again. She looked at the tube taped to his mouth and wished with all her heart it was gone, so that she could hear her mountain rumbling in her ear again.

A week later, Maggie almost wished the tube was back in Mac's mouth. He'd turned out to be a terrible patient, one of those men who were never sick and didn't believe anyone who tried to tell him his body needed time to heal. He responded gruffly to the nurses' orders and was extremely vocal in his opinion of the food they served. He told the doctors not to order any drugs or painkillers after just two days. If his burns pained him, he wouldn't admit it. As Maggie came up for her afternoon visit, she could hear his deep gravelly voice halfway down the hall.

“I don't care what the doctor says—I want up! I refuse to use that blasted bedpan again.”

“Colonel, you can't, ah, do anything for yourself with those bandaged hands. This is better for you until—”

“I'll manage, dammit!”

Maggie shook her head at his clenched jaw and angry blue eyes as she strode into the room. Two young nurses turned to her with palpable relief. The ward staff
had learned quickly she was the only one who could control their patient. The two nurses gave her a thankful glance and left.

“For heaven's sake, Mac, act your age. You've got to stop terrorizing those lieutenants. They're just trying to do their jobs.”

Mac watched her toss down a pile of magazines and stand at the foot of his bed, hands on her hips. The sight of her pile of curls tied up with a blue silk scarf and matching soft silk shirt made his frustration level rise dangerously.

“They can damn well go ply their trade on someone else,” he grumbled. “And take their bedpan with them.”

“You know you can't do anything for yourself with those bandaged hands,” Maggie tried patiently.

“Oh, yeah?” His grumpy look was replaced by a decided leer. “Wanna bet? These bandages are the only things that stand between you and being kissed senseless. I think I can manage at least a demure peck or two, even with them on. Come here.”

“No way! The last time I got close, you ended up showing your buns to the general's wife when you tried to wrestle me onto the bed just as she came in. Nice conduct for a senior officer!”

“Maggie, come here.”

She eyed him for a long moment, then gave in to the soft command. Better the bed than his trying to chase her around the room.

He sighed as she settled gingerly next to him in the wide hospital bed. “I've been waiting for you all after
noon,” he said, nuzzling the golden head beside his on the pillow.

Maggie sighed. She relaxed contentedly and let the scent and feel and warmth that was Mac surround her.

“By the way,” he added with seeming casualness, “Dad was here again this morning. He wants to know what we want for a wedding present. Does he know something I don't?”

Maggie looked up into his face in dismay. It was her own fault, she told herself. She should have said something sooner.

She'd been trying to bring up the subject of their future ever since Mac had regained consciousness. She wanted desperately to tell him that all her wanderlust was gone, burned up in the flames that almost took him, as well. To her dismay, she'd discovered that taking a man up on a marriage offer he hadn't renewed was a little tricky. She and Mac had had precious few moments alone since he'd been moved out of intensive care to a private room. It seemed the man knew half the people on the darn base. Someone was always there, even late in the evenings.

Well, it looked like her future father-in-law had made the first move for her. As long as they had a few moments alone now, she might as well follow up.

“Your father seemed to know about your rash offer, or rather, order, of marriage. If the order still stands, Colonel, I want very much to marry you,” Maggie told him softly.

“Dammit, woman, you picked a fine time for this!” he roared.

“What?”

Maggie bounced off the bed. She'd have whacked the jerk with his own bedpan for startling her so if she wasn't so confused by his response.

“Hell, woman, I've been aching for you ever since I regained consciousness and found you stroking my thigh. Do you have any idea what that does to a man who's numb everywhere but one particular unburned spot? The nurses are going to have to build another little tent pretty soon to cover the evidence of my frustration.”

Dumfounded, Maggie gaped at him.

“And then you have the nerve to bring up marriage when I can't even take you in my arms and kiss you and…do all the other things a man should do when the woman he loves says she'll marry him.”

“You idiot,” Maggie shouted. “First you order me to marry you, now you won't even take yes for an answer when I give it. Well, I've got news for you, Alastair Duggan MacRae—yes, your father filled me in on the Duggan—we're going to be married and that's that. The boys are already planning the ceremony.”

Maggie took devilish satisfaction in Mac's surprised look. “They're part of this, too,” she went on. “They've got a great idea for a guitarist for the reception. Someone with a safety pin in his ear, I think.” She ignored his low groan.

“And Kate is already designing the cake. She's got
visions of a pile of sweet gooey frosting five layers high.”

This time she grinned at Mac's long moan. She was beginning to enjoy herself.

“Your dad is making reservations for the honeymoon. It's a toss-up between Disney World and fishing in Michigan. The boys are torn, but I think the vote is going to be for Disney World. Kate's never been there, you see.”

Maggie's green eyes sparkled in pure mischief. She imagined there wouldn't be many times she'd have her mountain lying helpless. She enjoyed the rare sensation of having the upper hand.

Mac gave her a long-suffering look.

“And if you don't behave yourself and follow the doctor's orders we may line up Woof to stand in for the groom. He's about the same size, but has a much better disposition.”

The corners of Mac's mouth turned up in his slow, lazy, incredibly sexy smile. Maggie thought she might drown in the flow of emotion that washed over her. Lord, she loved that smile. Not to mention the hunk of male that went with it.

“Well, you may think you have all the details covered. But I've got news for you, too.
I'm
going to pick out the wedding dress.”

And he did. It was a loose, baggy creation with yards of netting that somehow managed to hang on Maggie's every curve.