Hearts Crossing (Woodland) (5 page)

Lance's eyes fluttered. He focused on Collin for a moment and tried hard to speak but all that came out was wheezing. He fought for breath.

Unintelligible words faded into a gurgling whisper. His eyes faded and closed. Collin's stomach rolled and pitched and he felt his chest heave as his lungs clutched for air, trying to drag in enough oxygen to remain conscious while the rest of the world spun wildly out of control. A horrible, wailing cry split through him, straight from the depths of his heart.

“Lance! No!”

“Officer down. Ten-Double-Zero. 824 Lattimore. Officer down.”

The words echoed, searing through Collin like a knife. He pressed his hands down tight against the wound, but Lance's blood tracked steadily against Collin's fingers. He sobbed so hard his entire body shook and trembled.

Officers pulled him away, settling him into a squad car as freshly arrived paramedics went to work, but only one truth remained, one unalterable fact.

Collin had distracted them both. He had gotten in the way
—
against Lance's orders.

It was all his fault. Shaking horribly, he looked down, and came upon the sight of his tightly clenched fists. Once more his stomach threatened to revolt.

Literally and figuratively, Lance's blood was on his hands.

****

Collin awoke in a tangle of bed sheets, his body coated by a sheen of sweat, his breathing labored and rough.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, assuring himself of substance and a return to reality.

Uttering a soft curse, he climbed out of bed and raked his hands through still-damp hair. In the bathroom he clicked on a light. Light helped push away the remnants of the dream.

In a pounding silence, Collin considered the matter. He hadn't had the nightmare about Lance's death in probably a year. Ghosts had haunted his mind frequently in the first year or so afterward. Of late, though, Collin had pushed, fought and bullied them into remission. It had to have been prompted by the conversation with Daveny.

This episode had been bad, though. Horrifically vivid.

He gulped down some water.

Coming upon his reflection in the mirror gave Collin pause—haunted, red touched eyes and pallid skin.

No one, not even the members of his family, knew he had interfered. No one but Collin knew he was the one to blame for Lance looking away, for the reaction of the man who had stumbled and fired off the weapon. Foolish folly and bravado on Collin's part had ended with Lance’s death.

The burden rested with him always, and Collin had compensated for its weight in ways both emotional and spiritual. Oh, everyone knew he had been there, but no one knew the depth and degree of culpability—and the resulting responsibility he assumed.

Different memories crashed in, sucking him back into a vortex.

The eternal ride to the hospital. The smell of the police car he rode in—a subtle but permanent combination of mustiness, cigarettes, sweat and years of grime. The overly bright lights of the ER at St. John's Hospital. The nurses who helped calm the entire gathered family as doctors went to work trying to save Lance's life.

In the end, it had all been futile.

Collin gripped the metal basin of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white.

Despite our best efforts…

A one in a million shot…

The blood loss and muscle damage were severe, and irreparable…

Those memory-bound images were followed promptly by thoughts of Sandy.

Collin turned away from the mirror and doused the light. The return to darkness was welcome. He went back to bed, sinking into it with a groan.

Sandy had remained his fiancée until after a graduation delayed by a semester. Separate lives and a failed commuter relationship left them deciding to end the engagement in a civil if not overly friendly manner. The situation had hurt Sandy, and Collin knew it. Trouble was, he had no ability whatsoever to see to her well-being.

He couldn't even see to his own.

At that desolate realization, Collin settled an arm over his eyes. Behind closed lids swirled a new image—radiant and refreshing as cool, flowing water in a desert. Daveny. Clear as a high resolution photograph Collin saw her smiling in warm, happy welcome. The thought of her stilled his jangled nerves and soothed his soul.

That's when he recognized the most startling fact of all: He wanted to see more of her. He longed for her tenderness and innate sense of care. She had awakened something dormant inside of him.

And so, with her smile as an accompaniment, he drifted back to rest and peace.

5

Daveny's back was to Collin. Hedge trimmer in hand, she stood before a tall, somewhat rounded burning bush at the entrance of Woodland. She presented a petite, jean-clad counterpoint to its lush, overgrown state. The dichotomy of the image struck home and rendered Collin stationary for a moment inside the cab of his truck.

Grooming didn't take her long. While he watched, Daveny trimmed branches, smoothing and shaping until wild became spectacular, until untended turned into polished enhancement, health and beauty revived by the removal of overgrowth and excess.

Branches fell to the ground at her feet. Galvanized, Collin left his observations behind and joined her. A tall paper recycle bag stood nearby, and he stepped up to help, sliding on heavy duty work gloves. At first Daveny didn't seem to register his arrival. She wore protective ear plugs and moved through the task efficiently. Her smooth grace and confidence left him focused on the motion of her slender arms, the movement of her legs, her hips, the tiny waist he longed to span with his hands so he could draw her tenderly close.

Collin blinked free of those sensual imaginings and dumped a load of branches into the refuse bag. It was then that he must have entered her peripheral vision. Daveny turned off the trimmer and focused on him with the same kind of large, warm smile that had soothed his recent dreamscape.

“Hi there,” she called.

“Hey.”

Why did her instant openness, that simple but profound happiness, set off a trigger in his heart? In truth, he knew the answer, but quelled the idea of confronting it head on. He reacted the way he did because every moment spent in her company left him keenly aware of a soul-deep thirst that she brought to life, and then quenched, with no effort whatsoever. In her presence, Collin literally felt his emotional defenses slide away.

“If you keep pruning I’ll bat clean-up,” he offered, struggling to remain steady.

“That'd be perfect. Thanks, Collin.”

Again with that radiant smile. Yet there were no wiles in her disposition. Her personality flowed naturally from her core—engaging, charming and lovely.

They took a break about an hour later, sitting side by side on the warm, soft grass. In near unison, they removed their baseball caps and sunglasses. When Collin got up to find some water and snacks to tide them over for the rest of the session, he watched Daveny stretch out on the grass, extending her ponytail behind her. She crossed her ankles and sighed with delight.

When he returned she sat up once again, tucking her sunglasses into place and accepting a couple packets of cheese and crackers as well as a dripping wet but suitably chilled bottle of water. “You're awesome. Thank you!”

“My pleasure.” And he meant it.

While she ate, she looked around, taking in the grounds. Contentment rolled off her, toward Collin, a compelling, saturating sensation.

“This makes me feel so good.”

“It should. Your company has done an outstanding job.”

She shook her head. “We just designed. The contractors are the ones who do the heavy lifting.” She shrugged. “Besides, that’s not quite what I meant. It’s just that this place? It’s special to me. I’ve always loved the grounds here. They’re peaceful and beautiful. A perfect setting for a church. I’ve always imagined what it might be like to make it, I don’t know, I guess the word is
worthy
of Woodland.”

Her comment held Collin's attention.

“I want people to find peace and tranquility here. I want the grounds to be inviting.” Again she shrugged, stating simply, “This church is important.”

 For so long, before the world had crashed in around him, Collin would have felt the same way. Not any longer. But he didn’t need to go down that road—especially with this spirited, idealistic woman. Instead he delivered a smile and a nod of agreement while internally he worked toward evasion of the subject.

Her attitude touched upon a soft spot in his heart, though, and that truth couldn’t be denied. Rebuked, yes. Denied, no.

He took stock of the freshly soiled flower beds along the stone wall of the church front. “I think there are some plants with our names on them over there.”

She groaned, but the verbal protest lacked authentic heat. She handed him a second packet of crackers and delivered a wink as well. “Keep your strength up, hear?”

Collin unwrapped the snack, and teased, “I have to, in order to keep up with you.”

She sashayed away, looking back over her shoulder in playful challenge.

Right behind you
, he found himself thinking.

This woman possessed bottled-up charisma and the stunning beauty of a lightning bolt.

****

“Oh, man! Ow!”

Daveny’s startled exclamation left Collin turning her way. He had become so involved in the layout of the front border of annuals that he jumped a bit when she yelped. Daveny shook out her hand, yanking off her thin, latex glove

“Dang it! Serves me right!”

Collin went to her side immediately, motivated by the sight of a red stain on her hand and on the glove she held.

“What happened?” He took her hand and glided a gentle touch against the side of her index finger. Bearing a neat, shallow slice the digit bled steadily.

“I need to—I should probably clean it up,” she murmured in a thick tone, looking into his eyes.

“What happened?” he repeated, holding her in place without even being conscious of the gesture. Automatically, he took the edge of his T-shirt and wrapped it around her finger so pressure could be applied.

Daveny watched in horror. “Don’t do that, you’ll ruin…”

“Stop,” he interrupted succinctly. “What happened? And bear in mind, I hope the third time is a charm.”

She rolled her eyes at that, but Collin just grinned.

Daveny answered, “I should have worn heavy duty gloves like everyone else, but sometimes I just hate them. You can’t really feel the dirt, and the roots and stems, and—” She sighed in resignation. “I dug the spade in deep and way too close to my finger. My own dumb fault. I’ll be fine.”

With a bit more insistence this time she moved free of Collin's shirt bandage and started toward the church interior. He let her go, but followed.

“There’s a kitchen area in the activity center with a shelf of supplies,” she said, squeezing her finger and wincing. “I think I saw a medical kit there once. The facility is right over here.”