Wife for a Day (23 page)

T
he waiting room
smelled like alcohol and pine-scented disinfectant, and the occasional people walking through spoke in hushed tones. Rooms like this were a horrible place to wait, Sam thought, as she stood silently against a wall. They made you worry instead of cheering you up and giving you hope.

That's what she was existing on now—pure hope.

Jack paced, just as he'd been doing for the past hour, while waiting for a doctor, a nurse, for anyone to come out of the operating room and tell him that Beau would be okay. He hadn't sat down. He'd refused the coffee and sandwich she'd brought him. He didn't want to be comforted or given any kind of false cheer.

He didn't want or need anyone now—except his son.

Lauren sat next to Mike on a sofa, staring at the swinging doors and the empty hallway beyond. Mike's head was bent, and he was holding his cross. Praying.

The sheriff had come by the hospital an hour after Beau went into surgery and told Jack that it looked like the truck had gone off the highway at somewhere close to eighty miles an hour. There were two dead pronghorn on the road, and until he could talk with Beau, all he could assume was that Beau had swerved to keep from hitting a herd running across the highway. The pickup had torn through barbed wire and struck an old log line shack that should have been ripped down years ago. The truck rolled three times—at least—before it came to a stop upside down.

Beau wasn't wearing his seat belt. If he had been…no one wanted to venture a guess.

Tynna Donovan hadn't been with Beau, Mike had learned from her dad. She'd sneaked out of the house and gone to a girlfriend's during the night, sometime after she and Beau had had a fight on the phone. Tynna told her dad that Beau wanted to talk, and all anyone could figure out was Beau had taken the truck so he could see his girlfriend face-to-face.

The story was all too familiar. All too tragic.

Now Beau was in the hospital—paying for being young.

It seemed an eternity before a doctor came through the doors. He smiled as he walked toward Jack, and put his hand on his arm. Sam could hear some of his words. “He got banged up pretty bad, Jack. He came through surgery okay. Now all we can do is wait—and watch.”

Sam listened, trying to absorb all the information. Beau's legs were broken, and they'd had to set one with a pin. Four broken ribs, some internal bleeding, a head injury—but no brain damage. A lot of scrapes and cuts would leave him black-and-blue.

Sam watched Jack stare at the doctor, looking for words of encouragement, but he heard nothing more than “wait.”

Jack came toward her, his red and swollen eyes attempting a smile. He ran his hand through his hair, and for the first time Sam noticed it bore traces of Beau's blood. “Are you okay?” he asked, as if she was the one who needed consoling.

She wanted to be there for
him
, not the other way around, but her tears fell. “I'm scared, Jack. So darn scared.”

He pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. She didn't know how long they stood that way. Five minutes, maybe ten, but slowly she raised her head, and he gently kissed her brow.

“Is there anything we can do?” Mike asked.

“Call Crosby,” Jack answered. “He'll pretend disinterest, but he's probably worried sick.”

“I'll call him,” Lauren said, rising from the sofa. Sam stepped away and Lauren hugged her brother. Wiping a few silent tears from her eyes, she smiled at Sam, then walked down the hall.

“Is she all right?” Jack asked Mike, showing more concern for his sister, for everyone else, than he was for himself at the moment.

“She's worried about you. We all are.”

“I'm fine,” Jack said. “Tired. Frightened.”

“Do you want to talk?” Mike asked.

“No. Not now.”

Jack slumped down on a sofa, leaned his head against the back, and closed his eyes.

Sam sat on the chair across from him and watched the movement beneath his eyelids. He wasn't asleep. He was thinking, praying, the same thing he'd done since morning. The hours passed by slowly, and finally he slept.

It was nearly eight when he woke.

“I didn't miss the doctors, did I?” he asked almost frantically. “They haven't given you an update, have they?”

“No,” Sam said. “Not yet.”

He paced again, and picked at the cold sandwich Mike and Lauren had brought back
from their own dinner two hours before. He took a drink of lukewarm coffee, looking at his sister and friend. “Why don't you go back to the ranch,” he told them. “We'll call you if there's any change.”

“I'd rather stay,” Lauren said, but Jack shook his head.

“You're tired, and you'll sleep better in bed. Go on home and get some rest. If you want to come back tomorrow, bring some things to spruce up Beau's room. I imagine it'll look like a dungeon.”

“Are you sure you want us to leave?” Mike asked.

Jack nodded. “Sam's here. She's all I need right now.”

Lauren frowned, staring from Sam to Jack and back again. Jack seemed to know that he'd made a mistake, but he didn't bother correcting himself, and Lauren didn't question what must have seemed like an obvious error.

Five minutes later, Sam and Jack were alone.

“How are you doing?” he asked, putting an arm around her shoulder as they sat together on the couch.

“I've been better. I've been worse, too. I don't remember ever praying so much.”

“The last time I remember praying,
really
praying, was the day Beau's mom died.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his
widespread knees, and stared at the floor. “I hadn't seen Beth for nearly two weeks, since she'd taken Beau home from the hospital.”

“Why?” she asked, encouraging him to talk about that day, about the memories that had haunted him so long.

He laughed lightly. “Her father didn't want his little girl messing around with a cowboy. Didn't matter that I was the father of his grandchild.”

“What about Beth? Didn't she have anything to say about it?”

“We were sixteen, Sam. How do you tell your parents when you're that age to stay out of your life?”

“Kids do it all the time.”

“Not Beth. Not at first.” He smiled, as if remembering a good memory amidst the bad. “I showed up at her bedroom window one morning and talked her into running away. She looked so darn pretty when she handed Beau and a bag full of his things to me through the window. Then she jumped down to the ground and gave me a kiss. We weren't thinking much about what we were doing, we were just thinking about being together, the three of us.”

“Beau was with you during the accident?”

Jack nodded. “I'd bought a car seat a week before he was born. I'd bought a crib and a
high chair and a pair of fancy cowboy boots that were big enough for a five-year-old. I had so many plans for the three of us. I was going to build a cabin, put up the white picket fence Beth had wanted, and even plant flowers. That's what we were talking about that morning. We were laughing and having a good time, and I wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the road.”

He got up from the sofa and walked across the room, going to the window to stare out at the starry sky. Sam stood behind him, resting her cheek against his back, feeling so much of his pain.

“I heard the big rig's air horn just before I saw the grille bearing down on us. I jerked the steering wheel—probably the same thing Beau did when he saw the pronghorn this morning. My pickup rolled. I don't know how many times. I don't remember much of anything except lying on the ground and seeing the truck a good thirty feet away from me.

“Beau was crying. Beth was screaming for help.” He dragged in a deep, trembling breath. “My leg was broken, but I don't remember any pain. All I remember was getting to the pickup, smelling the fuel, and seeing the blood and tears on Beth's face. Her legs were trapped beneath the dashboard, and she couldn't get loose. I needed to help her, but I
had to get Beau to safety before I could do anything else. She begged me not to leave her, and I promised I'd be right back.

“I remember the truck driver running toward me, asking if there was anything he could do. I just gave him the baby to hold, and started to run back. But it was too late. Too damn late.”

There were tears in his eyes when he turned toward her. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. “I'm not going to lose Beau,” he told her. “I'm not going to lose you, either, Sam.”

He cupped her cheeks in his palms and kissed her softly. “It's been a long time since I've been in love. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like,” he said. His gaze was warm. The sorrow was gone from his eyes, and they were filled with other things now. Hope—which she knew all about, tenderness, and something wonderful that she hadn't seen from a man before.

“I love you, Sam. God, how I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and holding him close.

“Remember me telling you about my dream, about being happy with what I had?”

“Of course I remember. I thought it was the best dream in the entire world.”

“Something was missing from that dream,
though. Something I hadn't been able to find, you know, like a missing puzzle piece. But I've found it now. You're the missing piece, Sam, and you fit perfectly.”

“I do?” she asked, unable to keep her tears from falling.

“You do,” he said softly. “Marry me, Sam.”

It didn't seem possible. It didn't seem real, but Jack Remington had just made all her hopes and dreams come true.

“I always wanted to fit in somewhere, to be part of someone's dream,” she said. “I can't imagine a better one to marry into.”

Jack's eyebrow rose. “I take it that's a yes?”

She nodded, and tried to smile through all her tears. “I love you, Jack.”

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, softly, sweetly, warm, and oh so very tenderly. For the first time in her life she was in love, really and truly in love, and it felt heavenly.

“Mr. Remington.” A woman's voice startled both of them.

“Is it Beau?” Jack asked, worry lining his brow as he stared at the lady in pale green scrubs.

“His vital signs are good. He's not awake yet, but you could have a few minutes with him if you'd like.” She looked at Sam. “Just one of you—for now.”

Jack looked in Sam's eyes. “This has turned
out to be a pretty great day after all.” He brushed a kiss across her lips, and Sam watched him talking with the doctor as they went down the hall.

Sam went to the window and stared out at the sky. She remembered a night like this six months ago. She'd been in a hospital then, too, holding her mother's nearly lifeless hand. “Is it cloudy outside, honey?” she'd asked, using every last ounce of strength to talk to her daughter.

“No, Mama. The stars are shining big and bright.”

Sam remembered the gentle squeeze her mother gave her hand. “Since the clouds aren't in the way anymore, maybe I can touch a star.”

“You can, Mama. I know you can.”

“I want the stars for you, too, honey. I just never knew how to give them to you.”

She'd gasped for breath, but she never finished. She closed her eyes as if she were falling asleep.

And then she was gone.

Sam wiped a tear from her cheek. “I've touched the stars, Mama,” she whispered. “Thanks for leading me to them.”

 

Somehow Sam slept. She'd wanted to stay awake for Jack, for Beau, but sometime in the
middle of the night, when Jack made one of his brief but frequent trips to Beau's room, she closed her eyes. When she felt the cushion shift beside her on the sofa, she opened her eyes. Jack wrapped an arm around her. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Not quite two.”

“Is Beau awake yet?”

He shook his head, weaving his fingers through hers. “It could be hours. Why don't you try to sleep again.”

“You don't mind?”

He kissed her temple and shook his head.

She rested against his shoulder and with one hand pressed against his chest felt the steady rhythm of his heart, a heart that would always beat next to hers. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Jack was gone. It was six-thirty. More doctors and nurses bustled through the halls now.

Rising, she went to the nurse's station and asked where she could find Beau's room. “Could I see him?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have two of you in there, but don't stay long.”

She walked down the hall, stepped through the open door, and saw Jack sitting in a chair next to Beau's bed. His legs were widespread
and he rested his elbows on his knees. He watched his son.

“Mind if I come in?”

He looked up and smiled.

She stood behind him, and he rested his head against her chest. “How's he doing?” she asked.

Beau's eyelids fluttered. “I hurt,” he mumbled.

A lump froze in Sam's throat as Jack reached for his son's hand. “You had us worried for a while.”

Beau opened his swollen eyes. “I did?”

“Yeah. Pretty nasty accident you got yourself into.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Jack shook his head as Beau's eyes closed, then opened again. “I was, but not anymore.”

Sam put a hand on Jack's shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I'll be outside.”

“You don't have to go,” Beau said.

“The two of you have things to talk about.” She touched her fingers to her lips and pressed them against Beau's cheek, never more thankful to see anyone awake. Brushing a soft kiss across Jack's mouth, she whispered, “I love you,” then left the room.