The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (23 page)

She lay there, holding her arm and groaning. Darn, that hurt!

In no time Farley jumped to his feet and ran to where she lay. “Birdie? You okay? What happened?”

She nodded toward her arm. “Broke something.”

Farley’s gaze became concerned. “You’re okay, old girl.” He pulled out his phone. “We’ll take care of you.”

That morning, they closed down triage because the mob had slowed to one or two injured an hour and those injuries were fairly minor. The plan was to sanitize the gym and move the hospital annex there, returning the cafeteria to food preparation and service.

Earlier, Gabe had walked over to the downtown parking lot. With the rubble mostly cleared, he opened the door of his truck and leaned inside to turn on the ignition. The engine caught and started immediately, but he still couldn’t drive it until the rubble inside was cleared and the windows were replaced. He called Rex in Butternut Creek, who promised to get a guy he knew in the area to take care of it.

With that, he headed back to the high school. Once he was inside the triage area, Hannah grabbed his arm.

“I need to check your face and back.” She dragged him to her examining table, still there although most of the others had been collapsed and moved out so the area could be disinfected. “Want to do it while I still can before they pack my station and supplies.”

She pulled off his bandages, which hurt, but he machoed up and didn’t flinch.

After that, she cleaned off his entire face slowly and inspected each wound. “Most look good,” she said. “Healing well, but I still want to keep an eye on the one by your mouth. If your back looks this good, you can work in the rubble if they need you or keep working with patients here. Just make sure we clean you up every evening.”

Before he could move, she added, “Take off your shirt.” After swabbing that area and sticking on a few bandages, she nodded. “Okay. You’re released.”

When he got off the table, a crew broke it down and hauled it off. Then Desdemona entered triage and said, “Listen up. We’re closing this place down now. Need everyone to move so we can disinfect it. Take a rest. Relax because there are some injured folks from close to Mason arriving in about thirty minutes. You’ll be plenty busy then.” She strode off.

The few workers from triage ended up in the area between the middle school and high school. Gabe sat on the bench in the grove of trees.

“Come sit with me,” he said. “Enjoy the shade.”

When she joined him, he asked, “Where do you go next?”

“To the gym when it’s cleaned up and the injured from Mason arrive.”

He took her hand. “Don’t know where they’ll assign me. If I’m not around, will you promise me you’ll eat and rest?”

She smiled at him. “Of course.”

Like he believed that.

H
annah! Gabe!” Adam shouted when he saw them. He’d been searching for them inside when someone had told him triage was closing and pointed him toward the green space outside.

As soon as he shouted, he slapped his lips together. Only after he spoke had he realized they were holding hands and leaning toward each other as he’d seen Sam and Willow do, as he and Gussie did. Something had happened between them and he’d interrupted, but his shout broke the silence and the moment. Both jumped to their feet.

“Hey, Sis,” Adam shouted, although a million questions buzzed around his brain.

Hannah ran to hug him. Adam waved toward Gabe.

“Hey.” Adam put his arms around his sister, then stepped back to study her. “You look great. Can’t believe working twenty hours a day agrees with you so much.”

“I’m fine. Gabe only allows me to work twelve hours a day,” she said.

He glanced up at his friend, whose expression remained neutral while his body language looked casual.

“What are you doing here?” Hannah asked.

“Brought a load of emergency supplies. After we unloaded the SUV downtown, they told me to come up here and help clear out triage.”

Gabe wandered over. “Good to see you,” he said and almost sounded convincing.

Over his years—okay, relatively few—in the ministry, Adam had learned to read people a bit. Gabe seemed comfortable. He met Adam’s eyes and smiled, looked normal, but there was something going on. Adam had seen that moment between his friend and his sister.

Then Gabe glanced at his sister and quickly back toward Adam. In that second, Adam read a tinge of something. Guilt? If so, why? Hannah looked fine, like herself with the usual edge of intensity, but also happy.

Quickly she glanced at Gabe. Lot of gazing and glancing going on. For a moment, she smiled at Gabe, an expression most unlike Hannah.

Didn’t take a great detective to figure out something was going on.

Or at least something had started to be going on, which was one of the most convoluted sentences he’d ever put together but he knew what he meant. Maybe a tentative budding of attraction that neither seemed to have acknowledged to the other and certainly didn’t plan to share with him.

Why did Gabe feel uneasy about that? Must be, Adam guessed, because Hannah was his sister and he’d asked his friend to take care of her. Certainly Adam knew that if a man existed whom he could trust with his sister, it was Gabe.

Not that he could say that because they clearly hadn’t admitted anything to each other. Adam grinned, but not outside. He couldn’t tease Hannah and didn’t want to embarrass either of them so he simply said, “Hannah, go on inside. I need to talk to Gabe a minute about some…stuff. See if you can find out where they can use me.”

He watched her move out of earshot before he asked, “Okay, what’s going on, buddy?”

Gabe held his hands up. “Nothing. You know me. Nothing.”

Like all good interrogators who know that if they don’t say a word, a confession might tumble out, Adam didn’t say a word. Unfortunately, before a confession tumbled out, his cell rang. He looked at the number. “Have to take this.”

“Adam Jordan,” he answered.

“Preacher, this is Farley Masterson. Birdie fell this morning. Probably broke her arm. She’s in the hospital.”

“In Butternut Creek? Should she be in Austin?”

“No, she’s fine here. Good orthopedic surgeon on call. She’s in X-ray now and they want to do a few other checks. Heart, blood pressure, the sort of stuff they do to elderly people.”

“Okay, I’ll head back now.” He flipped the phone closed. “Miss Birdie fell. Got to go home. Tell Hannah, please.” He left with a wave toward Gabe.

He wondered about them as he pulled out of town. Despite the way Hannah had been looking out the window the other day, he’d never have thought of the two of them together. Could be the proximity and forced familiarity of working together, but a less compatible couple—at least in his estimation—he’d never seen. As the miles passed, he attempted to figure out a scenario in which Gabe and his sister came together and lived happily but couldn’t come up with one.

The highway had been almost completely cleared although, here and there, flaggers waved him down because one or the other lane was blocked. However, the waits were short and he arrived at the hospital in a little over an hour.

When he walked up to the information desk, the volunteer said, “She’s in room A-215, Brother Jordan, and there’s a crowd over there.” She gestured across the hall.

Church people and members of the community filled the chairs in the waiting room. They all stood when he came in. Winnie and Blossom hurried over to him.

“What do you know?” Adam asked.

“She won’t let us see her,” Blossom said, her voice filled with regret.

“Mercedes is in her room and Farley refused to leave but she won’t admit anyone else,” Winnie added.

“I’ll check and be back.” Adam headed toward A-215.

For a moment he stood at the door. Farley sat next to the bed and read the newspaper while Mercedes stood by the window. He walked into the room and stood by the side of the bed. Birdie looked more fragile than he’d ever seen her, tiny and frail. When she strode around the church and the town, the force of her personality made her seem taller and stronger. Now, as she dozed, she looked like a seventy-year-old woman who’d fallen and was in pain.

“Hello, Preacher,” both Farley and Mercedes said.

Mercedes gestured toward the bed. “She’ll be glad to see you when she wakes up.”

“I’m awake.” Miss Birdie opened one eye to stare at him.

Her voice quivered but he could hear the steel as well. Knowing better than to take her hand, Adam said, “Lots of people waiting outside to see you.”

She closed her eyes.

“I came in with her, Preacher,” Farley said. “She’s tried to throw me out but I’m not leaving.”

“What happened?” Adam asked.

“She fell.” He shrugged. “Don’t know why. Didn’t seem to trip on anything.”

“Hrmph.” She opened her eyes and raised her head. “Fell over my shoe. The sole came loose.”

“I could tell she hurt because she could barely talk. You know Birdie’s in bad shape when she can’t talk.”

“I was in pain.”

“But they think she might have had a slight stroke,” Mercedes said. “That may be the reason she fell and couldn’t speak.”

“Didn’t have anything to say,” Birdie said.

“Blood pressure’s sky-high.” Farley put the newspaper down and folded it neatly. “They’re going to do the test for a stroke.”

“Only stress and those stupid shoes,” Birdie argued. “Nothing to worry about. Being in the hospital makes anyone’s blood pressure go up.”

“Of course.” Mercedes took Miss Birdie’s hand and patted it.

Miss Birdie snorted.

“Why no visitors?” Adam asked.

“She doesn’t want anyone to see her like this,” Farley said. “At least that’s what I think. She doesn’t say.” He turned toward the bed. “Is that right, old girl?”

“I’m weak and pitiful,” Birdie said in a quavering voice. Then she stated forcefully, “But I’m not an old girl.”

“What’s the diagnosis? Has the doctor been in?” Adam asked.

“Broken ulna.” Farley put his index finger on his wrist. “About an inch above the wrist. Says that’s normal with the fall. She tripped, put her arm out to catch herself, and snap.”

“She has an ice pack for the swelling and medication for pain.” Mercedes picked up a cup of water and put the straw between Miss Birdie’s lips. “The doctor will be in later, once he’s studied the X-ray and the test results.”

“If she needs surgery, he wants to let the swelling go down and has to make sure that old heart can stand up to surgery.”

Miss Birdie spit out the straw and said, “Don’t have an old heart, just old shoes.”

For nearly a minute, no one said a word. Mercedes put the cup on the bed table, Farley ruminated, and Adam watched the pillar’s pale face. He had to say something pastoral. Since the day he arrived, she’d ordered him around and never been afraid to speak her mind. She’d criticized him and attempted to control every facet of his life but she’d always accepted him as her minister and he’d had to step up.

“Miss Birdie,” Adam said. “You are the toughest woman I’ve ever met.” He thought he caught a little curve of her lips. “Problem is, you’re also human. We all fall down. We break bones. Everyone does.”

She didn’t answer. Her silence worried him greatly. Miss Birdie, the iron Widow, never backed down, never didn’t answer. He couldn’t express his concern because she’d get mad both for his judging her and for his use of a double negative.

“Where are the girls?” Adam asked.

“At school,” Farley answered when Birdie didn’t.

“Birdie didn’t want to upset them. Won’t let me call them. But I’m going to pick them up because I’m on the approved list,” Mercedes said. “In fact, I should go now so I’ll be there when school lets out.” She strode toward the door and out with her keys jangling.

Still he hadn’t said anything to comfort or anger or uplift Miss Birdie. He had to.

Dear Lord, please fill me with words, the right words
.

After that fervent prayer, he pulled up a chair on the side Miss Birdie faced, sat, and leaned forward. She didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t remember a time she didn’t at least glare at him.

Undaunted, Adam began, “Miss Birdie, you are loved in this town.”

“Hrmph.”

“Do not disagree with me.” He mimicked the tone she used with him so often. “You know you are. You’ve been serving the folks in Butternut Creek for fifty or sixty years.”

“Fifty,” she muttered.

Heaven forbid he should make her older than she was.

“Do you know how many people are out there to pay tribute to you because they love you?”

“I told her,” Farley said. “But you know how stubborn she can be.”

“I bet you’ve helped every person out there in some way, probably all of them more than once, over and over.” Adam paused to search for words. “They want to show their gratitude. They want to support you, to bring you meals so the girls don’t have to cook, and keep you company.”

“You’re going to need that, Birdie,” Farley said. “You and the girls.”

“They want to give you what you’ve given them for years. It’s time for you to receive what they are offering generously because they love you.”

Nothing. No reaction. Then he realized a tear had trickled down her cheek.

Okay, he’d reached her a little, but she still looked despondent. Time for the big guns.

If this didn’t beat all. Birdie flopped on her back and stared at the ceiling tiles, counting them compulsively.

The old coot sat on one side of the bed. The preacher sat on the other.

No escape. The railings seemed more like fences. With this stupid arm and the IV dripping into her and those monitors attached, she couldn’t escape even if another tornado hit.

No matter what the preacher said—and his words had been nice and inspiring—she still felt like a weak old woman.

“Preacher,” she said. “I can’t see them now. I can’t. I hurt and my brain’s fuzzy from the pain medication.”

She cleared her throat because her voice sounded rusty. Adam picked up a cup of water and stuck the straw in her mouth. She took a deep gulp. Tasted good. Then she turned to Farley and said, “Would you go out and tell everyone thank you, that I don’t feel like seeing them but I really appreciate them coming by?”

He nodded and left.

Then the preacher spoke.

“And the wedding.” He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know what Gussie will do without you.”

The wedding
. Those two words echoed in her brain. Blood roared through her veins, bringing strength and focus. She attempted to sit up but, with all the tubes and lines that connected her to machines, she failed.

“Of course, the wedding. We have to make plans.”

“Miss Birdie, are you strong enough? Do you think…”

Oh, that preacher. He knew good and well what to say to her to break through her self-pity. She knew he’d manipulated her but didn’t care. She’d needed that shove like Popeye needed spinach, like…well, like the Widows needed to plan a wedding. “Ask Blossom and Winnie to come in. We need to get to work.”

He nodded and left the room.

When he returned with Winnie and Blossom, Farley following them, she waved the men away. “We’ve got to get busy and we don’t need you here. Farley, you get some lunch and go on home. We need that chair.”

Dismissed, both left obediently.

“Someone call Yvonne,” the pillar continued. “Get her over here right away. Blossom, hand me the control so I can raise the head of the bed. Winnie, you ready to take notes? Mercedes will be back with the girls in no time, but we’ll start without her.”

She’d show everyone she wasn’t over the hill, not yet.

Could be she’d accept some of that help the preacher had mentioned. Not because she’d become so pitiful she needed it. She just shouldn’t be so prideful she couldn’t allow people to grow spiritually by helping her.

But she’d be goldurned if she’d give up this wedding. She’d worked too hard to get these two together to sit it out. They’d tell the bride about the plans later, when they had the details all tied up.

“Oh, Preacher.” Winnie ran out of the room and pulled Adam back inside. “Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

He shook his head and lowered his eyes. Looked so uncomfortable Birdie knew they had. “You’ll need to take that up with Gussie. We still need to confirm the date with our families,” he hedged.

“Please tell us, Adam,” Blossom said in the pleading note he hated to turn down. “So we can plan, set a schedule.”

He sighed.

“June. The fourteenth. Probably.”

“Oh, dear.” Blossom’s mouth formed the little pink circle. “That’s not far away.”

“September or October would be better for us,” Birdie said.

“More convenient,” Winnie agreed.

Adam laughed. “Ladies, you’ve been after me to get married since I drove into town. You should be happy we’ve set a date.”

“Yes, we should,” Winnie said. “The sooner they get married, the less likely Gussie is to get cold feet.”