The Ranger's Passionate Love (11 page)

Kyara sat in the waiting room, wishing she'd brought a book. Even her phone was dead, exhausted after straining to find some hint of a cell phone signal. It had been hours without word.

I hate hospitals. All the waiting. All the not knowing.
Kyara choked back memories of the last time she'd been in a waiting room. It had been different then. She'd already known her father was gone.

Jason came through the door to the waiting room, looking tired and frantic.

"Where is she? Is she OK?" he asked the moment he saw her.

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything because I'm not family," replied Kyara, aching at the familiar look of hurt and loss on his face.

"Well, I am," he said, his voice resolute. "Come with me." He marched to the desk, Kyara trailing behind.

"I'm here to see Mrs. Janice Waite," he announced to the receptionist. "I'm her grandson."

The woman behind the desk nodded. "I'll have someone come get you."

Jason nodded as though the sheer force of his head movement could make that happen sooner. Kyara walked with him back to the seats. He sat, but was jittery, his leg bouncing with constant motion.

Kyara rested her hand on his knee, and he turned to look at her.

"Thank you for being here," he said, his voice small and strained. "I thought you went to the other hospital. I drove forty-five minutes in the wrong direction. I don't know what I would have done if no one had been here at all."

Kyara stroked his leg gently, not sure what to say.

She was saved by a nurse, a stout, middle aged woman with a weathered, sour expression.

"Mr. Waite?" she said. Jason stood.

"Mr. Hardison. Mrs. Waite's my grandmother." When the nurse looked hesitant for a moment, he added, "I have her power of attorney." That seemed to satisfy the woman, who nodded and held open the doors.

Jason stood and started to follow, then glanced back at Kyara. "Do you want to come, too?" he asked. His eyes, red-rimmed and vulnerable, begged her to follow.

"Is she family, too?" asked the nurse, her voice carefully neutral.

"This ... this is my fiancée," said Jason after a moment. "Right, Honey?"

Kyara stared at him for a long moment, his desperate posture begging her to go along with the deception.

Finally, Kyara stood. She took his hand and followed him through the doors.

What followed was a blur. Long, identical hallways and carefully blank, anonymous faces ferried them from place to place. Jan was resting quietly, dehydrated but alive.

Kyara mostly watched Jason. He was focused, asking all the right questions. But beneath that, she saw him struggling. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped and his head dropped forward whenever they were alone in the room. His eyes had turned a murky blue, deep and hollow next to the red which rimmed them.

When they started asking him about nursing facilities, Kyara decided to put a stop to it.

"Can we discuss this tomorrow?" she asked, cutting off a doctor. "My fiancé here is clearly exhausted, and you've said yourself that you're keeping her for observation tonight."

The doctor, a short, round little woman who looked like a vaguely offended miniature pony, nodded grudgingly.

"Great," said Kyara, looping her arm through his. Jason blinked at her, though whether he was upset or confused she wasn't sure.

Kyara let him give his goodbyes to his still sleeping grandmother, then led him out into the parking lot.

Darkness had closed in, turning an already cold day into icy chill. Jason tried to pull away from her, but Kyara held onto him.

"Thank you again for being there," he said. "I ... it really helped."

"Of course," said Kyara, nodding up at him. Jason stared down at her arm, still firmly looped around his.

"My car's over there," he said, gesturing with his free hand. "And it will be hard to drive without my arm."

"Nonsense," said Kyara, doing her best to channel her mother at her bossiest. "I know what it's like to have family in the hospital. You're in no condition to drive home back over those mountains. I'll take you, and bring you back in the morning."

Jason looked at her, not saying a word. Finally, he pulled her arm to him, once, in a tiny hug.

Kyara led him to her car.

The drive back was long, and mostly quiet. Jason rested his head on the cold glass of the window, just staring into nothing. Kyara focused on navigating the twisting turns of the road in the dark. The pines along the road looked like huddled monks, leaning in to pray. What they were praying for, Kyara couldn't say.

When the lights of Main Street finally hit his eyes, Jason stirred.

"Can you drop me at my Grandmother's house? I want to bring her some of her things, and I'll be closer for going back in the morning." He sounded distant and lost. Kyara nodded.

"That's fine," said Kyara. "I'm pretty tired, too, and am not sure I want to find a new place in the dark this late. I can pick you up from her house in the morning, and we can go see her."

Kyara pulled up in front of her restaurant. The house across the street looked like a skull in the dark, its empty windows the staring eyes in the white paint bone. Jason studied it with miserable eyes. Kyara watched him, her own memories of loss looming large behind her.

He shouldn't be in that giant, freezing house by himself tonight.

"Hey," Kyara said before Jason could start to get out. "Why don't I come in and help you get the fire restarted?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"Do you even know how to start a fire?" he asked gently.

Kyara shrugged, looking away.

"I know it needs kindling." she said, trying to keep the tone light. Jason shook his head.

"I'll be fine. Come knock in the morning once you're up? I'd like to get back there as soon as I can."

Kyara nodded as he stepped from the car into the street, the wind whipping his hair out from the back of his head. Once he was inside, she got out of the car and went into her restaurant.

Her apartment was right above the kitchen. It technically had an outside staircase from the side of the building, but on nights like this Kyara always took the inside stairs up from the kitchen. The inside stairs opened into what she was pretty sure had been a closet at some point. The zoning laws on the business/home were dubious, but since it had always been that way, no one in town really objected.

Her apartment was cozy and warm. The smell of the food from downstairs was starting to seep into her house as a constant companion.

It's good to be home
, Kyara thought. To her surprise, it was true. This place had become home.

She changed into the flannel pajamas she'd purchased on Caitlin's advice. Their warm comfort was a welcome relief after the stress of the day. She wanted to sleep, but she hadn't eaten since before the lunch rush. Leftovers called to her. She was almost done warming them in the pan when a knock came at the outside door.

That can't be good. Did something happen to Jan the moment we left?
Kyara hustled to the doorway, throwing it wide.

Jason huddled on the tiny landing outside, shivering as he held himself tight.

"Jason? Are you OK?" asked Kyara. "Come in out of the cold."

Jason stepped inside, shivering a bit. His breath smelled like alcohol.

"Sorry to bother you again," he said. "There's something stuck in Grandma's flue. It won't ... its all smoke. I can't get it unclogged in the dark."

"Don't worry about it," said Kyara. "What do you need?"

"Maybe a lift back to my place?" he said. Then he noticed what she was wearing. "No, never mind, you're ready for bed. I'm sorry. If I can borrow a few more blankets, that should be fine. It's only fall, after all."

"Don't be an idiot," said Kyara. "You'll freeze. Here, eat some of these leftovers while I go change." The plate she'd made for herself slid in front of him.

"No," he protested, "Don't."

"Well," she said, turning back to him with her hands on her hips, "I'd say just borrow my car and come back in the morning, but you smell like you shouldn't drive."

Jason studied the plate in front of him.

"I haven't had that much. It was just a little to keep warm while I got things going," he said.

"Your grandmother says you have the alcohol tolerance of a three year old girl," responded Kyara.

"Nana's got a big mouth," said Jason sulkily. "And I'm not that bad, I just can't pack it away like she can."

Jan drunk. That would be a sight to see.

"Eat," Kyara instructed. "I'm going to get changed."

"Stay," he said suddenly. "You can change after, can't you? I ... I'd like to have someone around right now."

The admission had clearly been hard for him. Kyara sighed and went into the kitchenette.

"Fine, but I'm getting myself some food, too. You start eating."

Jason grunted his assent. She watched him with satisfaction as he picked at the food, then started eating with more enjoyment.

Silence reigned as she warmed another serving. She was suddenly very self-conscious. Being here, in her apartment, dressed only in her pajamas, felt ... intimate.

As quickly as she could, she returned to the table, sliding into the seat across from her. He watched her as she came.

"I don't know how you do it," he said, his voice low and warm.

"Do it?" she asked.

"How do you keep that figure and eat food like this?" he revealed, flourishing a bite of fatback.

"I work fifteen hours a day on my feet and rarely have time to actually eat," said Kyara, smirking. "Also, I mostly eat the greens. Tonight I was just doing something special after a hard day."

"Yeah," agreed Jason, his eyes going distant and sad again. "Hard day."

Kyara instantly regretted mentioning it and ruining the mood. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers.

"Hey," she said, holding him tightly. "It's gonna be alright. She was fine. In a few days she'll be back to spilling your secrets and speculating on celebrity love lives again."

Jason shook his head.

"That's not it," he said softly.