His Holiday Family (2 page)

Neither did Kathleen. As a child, she had gone through two minor hurricanes that had gotten her out of school for a couple of days but, other than that, hadn't changed her life much at all. But Naomi was gathering speed and her winds were increasing.

Ashley thrust an IV bag into her hands. “He needs this.”

Her breath caught in her throat, Kathleen took it and started for the second door on the left. “What are his injuries?”

Ashley slanted a look at Kathleen and said, “I think several broken or cracked ribs, possible internal bleeding and smoke inhalation,” then entered E.R. unit number four.

When Kathleen went into room two, she stared at the firefighter lying on the bed. His damp black hair was plastered against his head, and there were dark smudges on his tan face. His steely gray eyes locked on her and seized her full attention.

“Pete. What about Pete? Did my partner get out okay?” His raspy voice weakened with each word he uttered.

“Yes, there were no other injuries at the fire.” Guilt swamped her at seeing the man she'd sent into the fire hurting, pain reflected in his gaze. The feeling was familiar. Hadn't her husband, Derek, blamed her for causing his stress that led to his heart attack? Shaking away the memory, Kathleen hung an IV drip on the pole and hooked up his line.

“I'll be fine.” The firefighter struggled to sit up. His eyes clouded, his face twisting into a frown.

Kathleen rushed forward to restrain the patient's movements. “You need to lie down.”

“You're the lady with the boys. Ruth's daughter.” He swung one leg to the floor.

“Yes.” Kathleen touched his left arm to stop him.

He flinched but proceeded with putting his other leg on the tiles, pushing himself upright. With a moan, he sank to the floor. Kathleen caught him as he went down and lessened his impact with the tiles. Kneeling next to him, she supported his back with her arm.

His head rested against the bottom of the bed. He fixed his weary gaze on her, pain dominating it. “I guess I'm not all right.”

“Let's get you back in bed. The doctor will be here soon.”

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes fluttered and closed.

With her attention fastened on his face, Kathleen settled him on the floor and pressed the emergency call button.

 

“I thought you left here a couple of hours ago,” Mildred Wyman, the floor supervisor, said as Kathleen exited the elevator and walked toward the nurses' station.

“I did, but there was a fire at the Magnolia Street Apartments where my cousin lives.” She filled her in on the details. “When I came back to the hospital, Ashley recruited me to help until another nurse was able to come in. She just arrived so I wanted to see if Gideon O'Brien was settled into his room before I go home for sure this time.”

“He's in room 345. He was asleep a little while ago.”

“I'll peek in. See if he's up. If he needs anything.”

Kathleen strolled toward the last room on the west
wing's third floor. The memory of the look on Gideon O'Brien's face wouldn't leave her thoughts. Clearly he'd been in pain but he tried to deny the seriousness of his injuries. If only she had known that Sally had taken the boys to the park, Gideon O'Brien wouldn't be hurt.

She rapped on the door. When she didn't hear anything, she inched it open to see if he was still asleep. The dimly lit room beckoned her. She stepped inside and found him, lying on his bed, his head lolled to the side, his eyes closed.

With the black smudges cleaned from his face, his features fit together into a pleasing picture. High cheekbones, the beginnings of a dark stubble, strong jaw. His features drew her forward until she stood by his side, watching him sleep. She could remember seeing him a couple of times jogging past her mother's house when she had visited. When she'd told her mother who the injured firefighter was, her mom had said Gideon O'Brien had moved in down the street several years before.

“He sure is a handsome lad. Single, too.” Her mother's words came back to taunt Kathleen. Before she'd had time to say goodbye to her sons so she could return to the hospital, her mother had ushered her out the door without further questions—which was unusual for her mom. Kathleen knew what was going through her mother's mind. A nice young man would solve all of Kathleen's problems. She would discourage her mother of that thought when she went back to pick up her sons.

Her glance ran down Gideon's length, categorizing his injuries. Two cracked ribs, wrapped but very painful, a broken arm above his left wrist, which would be set tomorrow, and an assortment of bruises. The doctor
was still concerned about internal bleeding and wanted to keep a close eye on him overnight.

When her survey returned to his face, it connected with his gaze. Molten silver, framed by long, thick black eyelashes. Captivating. Powerful. Those thoughts sent warmth to her cheeks that she was sure rivaled the fire he'd fought.

Kathleen looked away. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“You didn't,” Gideon said in a scratchy voice. “You were at the fire. In the E.R. Ruth's daughter.”

She nodded. “I'm so sorry you and Pete went into the building after my children.” She reconnected with him visually. “They were supposed to be there. I had come to pick them up. I didn't know Sally had taken them to the park and was running late getting them back to her apartment.”

He shifted, gritting his teeth. “I'm glad they're safe.”

“But—”

“So why are you up here?”

She wanted to say so much more to him, but a closed expression descended over his pain-filled features. “I wanted to make sure you were all right before I left.”

“Define all right.” One corner of his mouth lifted for a second then fell back into a neutral line. He tried to reach for the plastic cup of water on his nightstand and winced.

“Let me get it for you.” Kathleen picked up the cup and held it to his lips so he could take a few sips. The scent of smoke clung to his dark hair. “Is your pain manageable?”

“I've had worse.”

“You have?” She'd heard from other patients in the past how much broken or cracked ribs could hurt.

“Afraid so.” Creases in his forehead deepened. Gideon gulped in a breath of air and started coughing. Agony contorted his features, his eyes shiny. “That hurt.”

“Let me see if you can have more pain meds.” Anything to help make him feel better. Then maybe she wouldn't feel so guilty.

He coughed again. His pale face urged her to hurry. She left his room and hastened to the nurses' station. “Mildred, can Gideon O'Brien have any more of his pain medication?”

“I'll check and take care of it. I was just coming to get you. Your mother called and said you need to get home right away. Something about Jared falling off the side of the house.”

“Is he okay?”

“She didn't say. But she sounded shook up.”

Kathleen rushed to the elevator, punching the down button. Seconds ticked by so slowly she started for the stairs when the doors swished open. This day was quickly going from bad to worse.

Two minutes later, after retrieving her purse in the E.R., she hastened out to the parking lot while digging for her cell. She slipped behind the steering wheel of her eight-year-old Dodge and punched in her mom's number.

“How's Jared?” In the background Kathleen heard her son crying, and her grip tightened on the phone.

“I don't know. He's holding his arm. He might have broken it.”

“I'll be there soon.” She flipped her cell closed and pulled out of the parking space.

Ten minutes later Kathleen turned onto Oceanview Drive. Her seven-year-old son was too adventurous for
his own good. She guessed he was going from climbing trees to houses now. Next he'd want to try flying off the roof. The thought sent panic through her as she drove into the driveway and parked.

The front door banged open, and Kip came racing out of the two-story stone house. “Mom, Jared climbed up there.” He pointed toward the second floor. “You should have seen him. I can't believe he did it.”

“Did you dare him?” Kathleen charged up the steps to the porch. At the door Kip's silence prompted her to glance back at him. “You did.”

“Aw, Mom. I didn't think he would really do it.”

“We'll talk later.” Kathleen entered her childhood home and headed toward the kitchen where the crying was coming from.

Kathleen's mother stood over her son, her face leached of color. “I'm so glad you're here.” Relief flooded her features. “If you need me, I'll be—”

“Mom, I'll take care of this. Don't worry.” Her mom never did well when someone was hurt or even sick. She usually fell apart. She certainly hadn't gotten her desire to be a nurse from her mother.

Jared sat cross-legged on the tile floor, cradling his left arm to his chest, tears streaking down his face. His look whisked away any anger she had at him attempting something dangerous.

Kathleen stooped down, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Honey, where does it hurt?”

He sniffled. “Here.” He lifted his arm and pointed at his wrist. “Nana thinks I broke it.”

When Kathleen gently probed his injury, Jared yelped and tried to pull away.

“Let's take you to the doctor. You'll need an X-ray.”

“Am I gonna get a shot?” Jared's brown eyes grew round and large.

“I don't know.”

“I am! I don't want to go.” Jared scooted back from her. “I can tough it out.”

“If it's broken, it needs to be fixed. It'll hurt a lot more than a shot if you don't get it taken care of.”

“Don't be a baby,” Kip said behind Kathleen.

She threw a warning look over her shoulder. “I'm sure you have homework. Go do it. Have Nana help you if you need it.”

Jared stopped moving away from her. He peered down at his wrist, sniffed and then locked gazes with her. “I'm not a baby.” He pushed to his feet, tears swimming in his eyes. Blinking, he ran his right hand across his face, scrubbing away the evidence of his crying. “I'm ready,” he announced as if he were being led away to some horrible fate.

While Jared trudged toward the front door, Kathleen spied Kip sitting on the stairs. Before her older son could open his mouth, she followed Jared into the foyer. Jared went outside on the porch, sticking his tongue out at his brother as he left.

Kathleen swept around, her hand resting on her waist. “Don't forget you and I need to have a talk. This fighting between you two has got to stop.”

“We don't fight.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Oh, since when?”

“We're playing.”

Gesturing toward the den, she said, “Homework. I want to see it finished by the time I get back to Nana's to pick you up.”

Kip leaped to his feet and stomped toward the den,
making enough racket to wake up anyone who was within a several house radius.

As Kathleen covered the distance to the den to tell her mother what she was going to do, her mom said, “Glory be. This is great news.”

Kathleen stepped through the entrance into the room. “What is?” she asked, swinging her attention to The Weather Channel on TV. She could certainly use some good news.

Her mom muted the announcer. “Hurricane Naomi has changed course. I think we're going to miss most of it. Maybe get a touch of the western tip, but not like they had predicted.”

“We don't have to board up our house now?” Kip sat down at the gaming table with his book bag.

“It's not looking like we do.” Her mom peered at her. “I know it's not good news for someone else, but maybe it will peter out before it reaches Florida.”

Kathleen doubted it from the information she had heard. “Mom, I'm taking Jared to the minor emergency clinic. I don't know when I'll be back to pick up Kip.”

“Fine. Kip and I will put away all the supplies I bought for the hurricane, especially all those boxes of tape I got for the windows, which I really don't need. Don't know why I bought them.”

“I'll take a box, Nana,” Kip announced while digging into his bag for his homework.

“Sure. Just don't tape up Jared with it.” Her mother rose and moved toward Kip. “Kathleen, when you get back we'll order something for dinner. We're celebrating tonight. No Naomi.”

Kathleen left her mom's, not feeling the least bit in the mood to celebrate anything—even the fact the town would avoid Naomi. Her cousin's apartment burned
today. She could have lost Sally and her sons. A firefighter went into a burning building because of her insistence her family was still inside.

Her life continued to come apart at the seams, starting with the last year of her marriage to Derek. She had wanted coming home to be a new start but hadn't counted on her sons' rebellion against moving to Hope. There was no going back to Denver, however. She couldn't afford to live there, financially or emotionally.

T
he crashing sounds of the falling timbers and the crackling of the fire haunted Gideon when he tried to sleep at the hospital. He remembered being put into the ambulance and glancing at the Magnolia Street Apartments as the structure caved in on itself, flames shooting upward as the blaze rampaged through it.

The noises around him amplified in volume. The antiseptic smell of the hospital overwhelmed him. Sweat popped out on his forehead. His breathing became shallow, his throat raw.

Finally, Gideon inhaled a deeper breath and regretted it the second he did. A sharp pain pierced through his chest. He clenched his jaw and rode the wave until it subsided to a throbbing ache. In spite of how he felt, restlessness churned through him. Scanning the hospital room, he resisted the impulse to walk away. The doctor should be here within a few hours to give him the okay to leave. But as he stared at the clock on the wall across from his bed, the second hand seemed to be moving in slow motion.

The sound of the door opening lured his attention away from watching time inch forward. Kathleen
Hart—last night he'd finally remembered she'd told him her name at the fire—entered his room. Her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail emphasized her delicate features—large, blue eyes like the Gulf off the shores of Hope, lips with a rosy tint that wasn't from lipstick, and two dimples in her cheeks as she smiled at him.

Dressed in blue scrubs, she approached his bed carrying a little plastic cup with his meds. “How are you doing today?”

“Well enough to go home.” He held out his right palm for his pills.

“Dr. Adams should be here soon. He does rounds after lunch.” Dark shadows under her eyes attested to not enough rest.

He recalled her apology and hoped what had happened at the fire hadn't caused her a sleepless night. “Where did you go yesterday? Nurse Ratched brought me my meds. She wouldn't tell me what happened to you.”

“I won't tell Mildred you called her that.”

He grinned. “She's definitely a no-nonsense nurse. I'm glad you came back today.”

“I work on this floor. I had to.”

“Ouch. I think my ego was just wounded.”

“Only think?” A twinkle danced briefly in her tired eyes.

The shadow in her gaze tugged at him. He wanted to prolong the light tone of the conversation, but he needed her to understand how he felt. His injuries weren't her fault. “You were upset yesterday. Are you all right today?”

“The more important question is, are you?”

“I will be in time.”

“You shouldn't be here right now. If only I had
waited a little…” Her voice faded into silence, and she glanced away, swallowing hard.

“I would rather err on the side of caution than have someone trapped in a burning building. What I did yesterday is part of my job. Occasionally we go into a fire looking for a person who isn't there. It happens. You are
not
to blame.” He would never forget the firefighters who had rescued him and his younger brother from a fire when he was eight. If they hadn't come into his burning house, he and Zach wouldn't be alive today. “No more guilt over yesterday. I'm glad your sons are safe.”

With her gaze still averted, she nodded.

He wasn't totally convinced she wasn't blaming herself anymore, not if the furrowed forehead and the darkening of the blue in her eyes were any indication. “I've been hurt before. I won't let a few cracked ribs and a broken arm get me down.”

She swiveled her attention back to him, her expression evening out, but the dark circles under her eyes were still there. “Tell that to my son. He broke a bone in his wrist yesterday after I took him to his grandmother's while I came to the hospital. That's where I had to go. He told me at the doctor's office that he wanted to see the hurricane coming in the Gulf. He thought the view would be better from the roof.”

“I heard it turned toward Florida. We might get some high tides and rain, but hopefully that will be all.” He shifted in the bed and caused another shaft of pain to constrict his breath, but he tried to keep from flinching. He didn't succeed.

“Are you all right?” The wrinkled forehead returned with a slight tensing.

“Just a twinge. Nothing that won't go away with time. So how did he get to the roof? Ladder?”

“That would have been safer. But he climbed the side of the house on a dare from his older brother. He didn't make it. He fell while trying to hoist himself onto the roof.”

Gideon whistled. “You've got a daredevil on your hands. What did your husband say about it?” The second he asked the question he wanted to snatch it back. He didn't see a wedding ring on her left hand, but there was paler skin where one would have been. He couldn't remember Ruth saying anything to him about her son-in-law, but then he and Ruth were only passing acquaintances on Oceanview Drive.

“Derek died last year.”

“I'm so sorry. I…” He didn't know what else to say.

“Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?” A professional facade fell into place as she checked his IV drip.

He could respect that she wanted to shut down the subject of her husband. Losing a loved one was difficult. Although he had never been married, he'd lost too many people in his life not to feel a kinship with her.

He grinned, wanting to see the light back in her eyes. “Other than get me out of here, no.”

“Sorry, but Dr. Adams might take exception to that. Just as soon as he signs your discharge papers, you can escape.”

“A hospital isn't my favorite place.” Again he was reminded of his parents' deaths. His father had died in the fire, but his mother with third degree burns had lingered for a day in the hospital. He had only been able to say goodbye to her at the end when she was unconscious. He would never forget that last time he saw her.

“It usually isn't for most people.” Her smile reappeared on her face, a sparkle shining in her eyes—making him forget where he was for a moment. “If you need anything, use your call button.”

He watched her saunter out of his room. Occasionally he and Ruth would talk when they saw each other on the street, but with his crazy schedule, it wasn't often. She had mentioned she had only one child, and then this August she had talked about her daughter returning home in September to live in Hope. Other than Ruth being excited her two grandsons would be close, she hadn't gone into details about the move.

From his and Kathleen's few exchanges, he had sensed a deep hurt and now that he knew about her husband dying, he figured that must be why. One more reason he didn't get too involved in people's lives. He found after being shuffled between one foster family and another that it was safer to stay emotionally apart from others. Much safer.

 

After passing out the medication to her patients, Kathleen came back to the nurses' station to write in their charts. Dr. Adams nodded to her as he headed down the hall toward Gideon's room. She smiled, thinking about how the man would finally be able to leave. Even with his injuries, he had exuded restlessness. When he had told her about a hospital not being one of his favorite places, she'd heard pain behind the words though he'd no doubt tried to hide it.

Although he had reassured her she wasn't at fault for his being hurt, she had been married to a man who had blamed her for all his woes. Even with some of his last words to her right before he slipped away after having a massive heart attack at the age of thirty-five, he'd
blamed her for the stress he'd lived under. No matter how much she told herself that she hadn't wanted him to take all the money out of their savings for Kip and Jared's college fund to invest in the stock market in risky companies, it didn't ease the guilt. In fact, she hadn't even known about it until after his death. The stocks hadn't done what her husband had dreamed they would. In fact, when he'd had his heart attack, she had discovered Derek had put the family thirty thousand dollars into debt and just that day had gotten notification the bank was foreclosing on their house if the mortgage wasn't paid. She'd tried to do that, but it hadn't been enough.

She shook the past from her mind. Coming to Hope was a fresh start, even if she still had twenty-eight thousand dollars to pay back. When she had lived here, she had flourished in the small-town feel and kindness of others. She desperately needed that now.

An orderly went by her desk and entered Gideon's room. Not long after that she saw Gideon appear in the hallway, dressed to leave, sitting in a wheelchair.

At the nurses' station he had the orderly stop. “Thank everyone for me for their excellent but
brief
care,” he told her with a smile.

“I see Nate is helping break you out of here.”

“Yep. I was getting ready to walk out of the hospital when he showed up.”

“Oh, we cannot have that. Against Hope Memorial's policy,” she said in dead seriousness, but the second the words came out she chuckled. “You aren't the first who has threatened that.”

He motioned her to bend down closer to him, then he whispered, “Now my only complaint is that I would have liked a prettier escort. Too bad you're busy.”
Gideon winked and flashed her a grin before the orderly wheeled him toward the elevator.

Kathleen touched her cheek. It felt hot beneath her fingertips. She hadn't blushed in years and this was the second time since meeting Gideon. The injured firefighter was charming, but that was all he was. She didn't have the emotional energy to get involved with anyone, even if she felt guilty for his injuries. Raising her sons and slowly paying off the mountain of bills her husband had left her were enough to deal with.

Her mother kept telling her to turn it over to the Lord. She used to, but in the past two years she hadn't seen any evidence of the Lord in her life. Her prayers for help had gone unanswered. She was still in debt. Her sons desperately needed a man's influence. They hated being in Hope. They fought all the time. Then to top it all off, she felt responsible for Gideon's injuries, no matter what he said.

Which means I'll make sure he's comfortable while he's recuperating at home. That's the least I can do. Then maybe I won't feel so bad when I see him in a cast and wincing from pain.

 

Kathleen came into the house by the back door, thankful that her car had made it at least to her mom's, although she'd had doubts several blocks away when it died on her yet again. After the third time cranking the engine, it turned over and started.

Her mother told her to use her kitchen to make Gideon something to eat, then she could just walk down a few houses and give it to him. This was something Kathleen could do for him. She'd grown up with neighbors helping neighbors. That was part of Hope's charm. With one arm in the cast it would be hard for Gideon at
first learning to do things one-handed. He didn't need to worry about making something to eat.

Kathleen set the bag of food she'd gotten to make her Mexican chicken dish on the counter. After emptying the sack, she placed the pieces of chicken in water to cook. Then she went in search of her sons to see what kind of homework they had. When her mother didn't go see her friend in Biloxi, she watched Jared and Kip after school until Kathleen got off work and could pick them up. And when her mother couldn't watch her sons, Sally would fill in, no charge. That was a huge help to her because she couldn't afford to pay childcare along with everything else to raise two growing boys.

“Mom, do you know where Jared and Kip are?” Kathleen asked when she entered the den where her mother was watching The Weather Channel.

She peered toward Kathleen. “I didn't hear you come in. Been glued to the T.V. I'm charting the progress of Naomi even if it is going to miss us.”

Kathleen wasn't surprised by that fact. Her mom had done that for years. She had a stack of charts of past hurricanes that had come into the Gulf. “I'm going to fix some Mexican chicken for us and take some to Gideon O'Brien down the street like I mentioned to you.”

“I'm sure he'll enjoy that. He seems quite lonely to me.”

Before her mother had her fixed up on a date with Gideon, Kathleen asked, “Where are the boys? They need to get their homework done. After dinner they are useless. I can't get much out of them then as far as schoolwork.”

“They said something about riding those old bikes I
had in the garage. I told them they could but not to go farther than this block and not to ride in the streets.”

Kathleen glimpsed the time on the clock above the mantel. “It's getting late. I'd better round them up and see where they stand with their homework.”

“We'll need to pray for the people in Panama City.” Her mother listened to the reporter on the T.V. give the latest coordinates of the hurricane and jotted them down. “I'm sure you'll see the boys if you go outside and look.”

That was assuming her sons obeyed their grandmother when she babysat them. Lately there was no guarantee they would. Kathleen made her way toward the front door. Outside on the lawn she looked to the left and saw no one. Then she peered toward the right and thought she saw a bike that was like the one she'd ridden as a child lying on the sidewalk three houses down where Gideon lived.

She remembered Kip's questions the night before about the firefighter who had been hurt in the Magnolia Street Apartments fire. He had wanted to know if he would be all right. Who was he? Could he and Jared make get-well cards for him? She'd kissed her boys good-night and told them she would talk to them today when she got home from work.

She charged down the street. Knowing them, they had taken matters into their own hands without waiting to discuss it with her.

At Gideon's one-story white house with a neat yard, she skirted around both of her mom's old bikes and headed straight for the front door. After ringing the bell, she waited, trying to temper her anger that Kip and Jared would disturb a man recovering from some painful injuries.