The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (56 page)

Dr. Payne took the stethoscope from around his neck and tucked it in the top of his bag, snapped the clasp, and smiled warmly at Aimee. “Okay, Miss Schmidt, I think I’ve done everything I can do for now. I’m leaving some pain medication here next to the bed. Ye can take them now, and every eight hours as needed. I’ve only given ya enough for a couple days until ya get back to the States, but it’ll take the edge off the aches and pain ye’ll be feeling for a few days. Try to keep that shoulder wrapped so ye don’t move the arm unnecessarily. And a couple aspirin every few hours for that headache will help. Ye took quite a nasty pounding with the window when ye flipped.” He chuckled again as he shook his head. “I’m sorry for your accident, but it’s a miracle of God that the two of ye are not only alive, but not too terrible for the wear. Stroke of good luck, if I might say so.”

I don’t feel so friggin’ lucky,
she growled to herself. But Aimee
was
lucky. She had survived
almost
getting blown up in Afghanistan and then killed in a car wreck in England. “Thank you, Dr.
Payne.” Aimee managed a limp smile as the good doctor picked up his bag and headed towards the door. “Please leave your bill with Dylan. I want to make sure we repay you for everything you’ve done for us.”

Dr. Payne smiled and shook his head. “I’m retired, Miss Schmidt. I only trade my services these days. Lamb for stitches. Fresh butter for doctoring strep. Good Irish whiskey for setting a broken bone.” He laughed merrily as he reached for the door knob. “It’s a pleasure meeting ye, young lady. Not every day I get to meet such a beautiful, young American in these parts. Ye take care of yourself, okay? Stay out of the driver’s seat the rest of your time in England.” He laughed again. “I’ll send in Dylan, now. Have a good evening. If ye be needing anything else, young Timothy will call down to me.” He nodded, smiled once more, and left.

Aimee heard voices float in from the hall. She recognized two of them; Dr. Payne and Dylan. The third voice, a young man’s with a British accent, was unfamiliar, but since this was Timothy’s house, she figured it must be young Timothy, the man Aimee already felt she knew from Dr. Payne’s little story.

The door swung open slowly, and then Dylan eased around it and stopped. Their eyes met. She gasped. His face looked like he had been beat up in a schoolyard fight. “Oh, Dylan!” Aimee blubbered.

He zipped over to the side of the bed and dropped down into the empty chair. His strong hands swiftly wrapped around hers and gently brought them up to his lips. He shut his eyes for a second while he softly kissed each finger, then he pressed her hand against his cheek. The faucet turned on and the tears poured from Aimee's eyes.

“Hey, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks. No worse than what I endure from one of my football games. I’m sure nothing like what you’ve suffered. So, how’s the shoulder?” he asked worriedly.

“Well, I’m not gonna lie and tell you it’s fine, but I’ll live. Hurts on the scale somewhere between the time I rebroke my rib and my broken arm.”

Dylan laughed. “I’m
sooo
happy to see your beautiful, blue eyes. Damn, Aimee, you have a
way of always scaring the crap out of me.” He shook his head as he tightened his fingers around hers. “Promise me you won’t get behind the wheel again. I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go. Hell, I’ll get you a friggin’ chauffeur if I need to.”

“Dylan…” she started.

“No…no…” he cut in, “no arguing. One minute we're driving down the road, enjoying the scenery, and the next thing I’m waking up in the ditch and I see some man pulling your body out of the car seconds before it catches on fire...”

“What?!”
she exclaimed.
“The car burned up?!”

“Yeah,” he answered very solemn now. “If Timothy hadn’t been heading to town when he did, if he had been even a few seconds later…” Dylan hesitated suddenly. Aimee felt a shiver run through his hands. He clamped his eyes closed for a few seconds, but when he opened them they were clouded with moisture. He sniffled, leaned over and wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve without letting go of her hands, cleared his voice, then tried to speak again. "Anyway, there is a god, and he was watching over us today.” Dylan stopped and looked far into her eyes, as deep as if he was looking straight into her soul. He leaned towards Aimee and stopped. His sweet breath washed over her, and she closed her eyes and sucked it in and imprinted it into her memory. His lips eased into hers and they kissed like it was their first, second, and last time. Finally, their lips separated and Dylan looked into her eyes. “You are a very lucky lady, Aimee.”

“You’re the second person to tell me that tonight.” Aimee smiled and raked her fingers across a few stray strands of hair in his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you are,” Dylan said. “So, do you feel well enough to meet the person who saved you? Man, of all the places you could have picked to total the car, you certainly picked the right place. Timothy's really a cool dude. Just finished getting his PhD last year, but for now he’s taking over the family farm. He’s offered to drive us back to London in the morning himself. Said he had some business there. He not only saved your life, Aimee, he got Dr. Payne here within minutes, made sure he got everything Dr. Payne needed for you, put you in the most comfortable room he has, and he's gonna get us back to London for our flight out. Anyway, I know you’ll like him.”

Aimee listened to Dylan describe Timothy like he was a super hero. A saint. Thank goodness he
was
still home when they happened by his farm. She had to meet this remarkable young man who had
saved them, rather saved her from herself, the person who risked his life to pull her from the wreckage just seconds before it caught on fire, the person who made it possible for Aimee to live another day so she could be with the man she loved…and return home to Oregon…to go to college in the fall…to visit her best friend in a few months in the Big Apple…to enjoy another totally awesome day on the west coast waves…and…and to hopefully someday find her mother and father. Yeah, Aimee couldn’t wait to meet her savior.

Dylan leaned over and kissed Aimee's cheek, then got up to head out of the bedroom. He grinned and said, “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll go see if Timothy is free.”

Of all times, vanity kicked in. She usually didn’t worry about what she looked like when she felt this bad. Dylan said she was a natural beauty no matter what she was doing. Aimee didn’t have a mirror, but if she looked half as bad as Dylan, or a fraction as bad as she felt, she must look a fright. Aimee brushed through her hair with her free hand, then pulled and neatly tucked the quilt up over her waist. After a couple minutes she heard low voices in the hallway, then a soft rap on the door.

Dylan politely asked, “May we come in?”

“Sure. What’s with the formality? You don’t need to knock. Please…please come in.”

Dylan entered first and stopped at the end of the bed. Their host trailed behind him. “Aimee, I want you to meet Timothy.”

The man who saved her life stepped around from behind Dylan, his hand instantly extended towards her for a handshake. With great effort she leaned forward and swung out her good arm. She quickly looked from their hands up his arm to his face. Aimee met Timothy’s eyes.

She looked at her savior, then to Dylan, then back to Timothy, and back to Dylan before her eyes stopped and froze on the young man who had pulled her from the car seconds before it burst into flames.

With a smile that implied more than just a customary greeting, the same man who had too often invaded her dreams, and even her worst nightmares, stood at the side of the bed holding Aimee's hand in his, patting it tenderly to hide its trembling from Dylan. In a very proper British accent, Timothy said, “Please call me Joseph. My dear friend Dr. Payne is the only one who calls me by my Christian name, Timothy.” He stopped for a second and smiled, then continued, “I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better. You gave everyone, including my sheep, quite a fright this morning.” He chuckled, then added, “Although I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s a real pleasure to finally meet you, Aimee. Dylan is one lucky man. He’s told me so much about you it feels like I already know...”

Her heart felt like it quit beating. Joseph’s face blurred. And like a house of cards in a hurricane, Aimee crumbled into the feathery mound of pillows underneath her. Then everything around her went black...
dead
black.

...TO BE CONTINUED...

Escaping out of the tunnel in Spring 2016...

The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt

Book Two: Seeking Others