Hummingbird Lake (31 page)

“I know. The most fun is the first time you sell a new artist. I get almost as excited as they do. So, anything else interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Dr. Rafferty came in. He left a note for you in your office. Sarah Reese called to let you know that the Patchwork Angels meeting for tonight has been cancelled.”

“Oh? Did she say why?”

The girl checked her notes. “Too many member conflicts. Someone has suggested suspending meetings for the rest of the summer since everyone is so busy.”

Sage wouldn’t mind that herself. This time of year they all barely had time to breathe—not that anyone was complaining. On the contrary. The citizens of Eternity Springs were delighted. This summer was shaping up to be an economic home run.
Thank you, Celeste Blessing
.

She stepped into her office and found a note taped to the jar of dog treats on her desk. It read,
Better check the studio
. To Snowdrop, she said, “What in the world has he done now?”

Sage couldn’t deny the little spark of excitement. She and Colt were presently involved in a tug-of-war. She was trying to slow things down, while he was applying a full-court press. Unfortunately, he was winning.

She took the stairs two at a time. A white box tied with a fat pink bow sat in the middle of her studio floor. “The man and his gifts,” she murmured.

She tugged off the ribbon and bow, tore apart the paper, opened the box, and … frowned. Exercise clothes? New sneakers? “What’s the deal? Does he think I’m getting fat?”

She picked up the box and carried it over to her window.
He sat at his desk, his back to her. He was talking on the phone.

Sage had never availed herself of the window route he took between his office and her studio—knowing her luck, she’d slip and fall. Tucking the box beneath her arm, she made her way downstairs, asked Dorian to keep an eye on Snowdrop, and made her way to the office building next door. By the time she’d climbed the stairs and entered Colt’s office, he’d ended his phone call and he was making notes on a yellow legal pad. Looking up, he saw her and smiled. “You’re back. Good.”

Rising, he came around from his desk and kissed her hello. “How was Gunnison?”

“Fine. Thanks for the gift. I think. Are the exercise clothes a hint?”

“Nah, they’re a convenience. I didn’t know how late you’d be getting back and didn’t want you to have to dash out to the lake to get your things before our class.”

“Our class? What class.”

“Our yoga class.”

“Yoga.”

He smiled that particular grin that made his dimples wink at her. “I signed us both up for yoga class at Angel’s Rest. It starts tonight.”

While she stood there in muted shock, he added, “I have your yoga mat over here. It didn’t fit in the box.”

She frowned in confusion. “Why in the world would you do that?”

“You’re working too hard. Yoga is a wonderful way to relax.”

“I don’t need to relax. I can’t afford to relax. This is the summer season. Of course I’m working hard.” She scowled at Colt and added, “You’ve taken yoga classes?”

“No, but I’m always up for something new.”

Speed skiing or skydiving or parasailing, yeah. But
yoga? “What’s up with you, Rafferty? What is this about?”

“I thought it would be nice if we did this together. I’m working hard, too. Exercise is a good way to unwind.”

Sage didn’t believe him for a minute. “Then take your dog for a run. Shadow is always ready for that.”

“Shadow can’t do yoga. I want to do yoga.”

“Why?”

He hesitated a long moment then said, “You’re not buying any of this, are you?”

“I believe you signed us up for yoga classes, but beyond that, no.”

Colt drummed his fingers on the desk, then blew out a breath. “Okay,” he murmured. “I’m going to do this.”

Standing, he came around from behind his desk, took her hands in his, and stared solemnly into her eyes. “I love you and I’m worried about you. Sage, I’ve been doing some reading and I’ve talked to a few people. I think you are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

She opened her mouth in an exaggerated O and slapped her face theatrically. “Really? Wow. I guess you’re a better doctor than I am, Dr. Rafferty. I never thought of that.”

“Do I really deserve the sarcasm?” he asked, an annoyed frown on his face. “You’ve never shared your diagnosis with me. You don’t appear to be taking any steps to treat it.”

“That’s not true. I’m working on it.”

“Are you in therapy? Are you on medication to help the symptoms?”

“I’m using different methods.”

He folded his arms and nodded. “Painting. That’s pretty obvious. Are you still painting your nightmares, Sage? On the nights we’re not together? Or, for that matter, on the nights we are together? I admit I sleep like
a log; you could be getting up to paint and I’d never know it. Is painting the only way you’re attempting to treat your PTSD?”

Now she folded her arms. He’d hit a nerve and her defenses were rising. “You’re awfully nosy, Rafferty.”

“I love you. I want to help you.”

Then stop pressing me
, she wanted to say. Instead, she snapped, “By signing me up for yoga?”

“I did some reading about how to help loved ones with PTSD. It suggested practicing relaxation techniques. I thought yoga would be a place to start, although Angel’s Rest offers a number of classes you could take that might help.”

Oh, Colt
. He really was so sweet. If only he would understand that the shadows were too dark, too ugly. She couldn’t go there by herself yet, and she’d be hanged if she’d drag anyone along with her. “I appreciate the effort, and maybe during the winter I’ll give the classes a try. I’m too busy now. Besides, a walk along the lakeshore with Snowdrop relaxes me just fine.”

“All right, then.” He lifted his chin and forged ahead. “What about therapy? I have the name of a doctor who—”

“No,” she interrupted, as the suggestion left her cold. Yoga was one thing, having therapy was another. Look what it had done for her in the past.
Daddy, I need to tell you something
. “Just drop it, Colt.”

“No, I won’t.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It’s obvious you need more help than you are currently receiving. Everything I’ve read and everyone I’ve spoken to has emphasized how important therapy is to someone suffering from PTSD.”

Now he’d pricked her anger. “I’m not going to discuss this with you. It’s my past and my problem.”

“You told me enough to know it’s ugly, Sage. Until you deal with it, with all of it, it will only get uglier. I’m
not asking that you tell me—although I’d listen if that’s what you wanted. I’m asking that you talk to someone.”

“No.”

“Why not? I don’t understand?”

“You don’t need to understand,” she fired back, flinging out a hand in emphasis. Then she pointed toward herself as she added, “This is
my
health we’re talking about.
My
problem.”

“Your problems are my problems now.” He stepped toward her. “That’s what happens when you love someone.”

“Don’t you understand?” She slapped both hands against her head. “That’s exactly what I’ve tried to avoid. I don’t want my problems to be your problems. I don’t want to drag you into my darkness.”

“Then let me lead you into my light, Sage,” he said, his beautiful blue eyes warm and pleading. “Let me help you. Let a doctor help you.”

“No! Drop it, Colt. I’m not going into therapy. I tried it. It didn’t work for me.” That, she thought, might be the understatement of the century.

She wasn’t lying. She had entered therapy soon after she returned to the States, putting herself through six weeks of hell that culminated in the visit to her father.

Colt, being Colt, refused to let the subject go. Over the next ten days, he pressed her, cajoled her, and used both valid arguments and ridiculous ones in his attempts to ferret out her reasons for standing firm against his wishes. She explained as best she could manage, but the more they talked, the more frustrated they both grew. Finally, one evening after they’d attended the summer theater production of Eternity Springs’ own Cellar Bride mystery and were walking to the Taste of Texas creamery to feed Colt’s rocky road habit, he brought the subject up one too many times, and Sage let him have it. “Stop it. I refuse to listen to it one more time. If you so
much as whisper the word
therapy
one more time, I swear, I’m going to scream.”

“Now, that’s not necessary.”

“You’re bullying me, Rafferty and I don’t like it.”

“Bullying? I’m not bullying you.”

They bickered back and forth for blocks until Sage had completely lost her appetite for ice cream. It was the closest thing they’d had to a fight since they’d known each other. He wouldn’t budge on this. And neither would she.

When the ringing of his cellphone interrupted his latest harangue, Sage was glad to give her ears a rest. Scowling, he fished the phone from his pocket, thumbed the appropriate button, and snapped, “Rafferty.”

Sage caught her breath when the color drained from his face, leaving him ashen. Something bad had happened. Another industrial accident? He’d told her the other day that his old team was enjoying an unusually long stretch without incidents. Sage hated to think about what might have occurred. Seeing his reaction brought home to her how difficult his job must have been.

He listened for a full minute without speaking, his hand holding the receiver against his ear with a white-knuckled grip. “When did this happen?” he finally asked. “How many were hurt? … Okay. I will. Of course I will. I’ll leave right away.”

Then he closed his eyes and his voice cracked as he added, “Hang on, brother. She’ll make it. She’s a strong little girl.”

Brother?

When he hung up the phone, he stood frozen in place for a long minute. He looked dazed and shocked, as if he’d aged five years. Sage placed a hand on his arm. “What happened?”

“My niece.” His voice sounded strangled. “She and a
bunch of kids were on the way to church camp in a bus. A semi lost control and hit them. Two dead, fourteen injured, six of those critical. Rachel is one of those. The critical.”

“Oh, Colt.” Sage’s heart twisted. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “I need to get to Texas as fast as I can. They’re in a little podunk hospital in East Texas, but they’ll be moving her as soon as possible. Most likely to Dallas. I gotta get to the airport.”

He did an about-face and began walking back toward Creekside Cabins, where he’d left his car.

Almost running to keep up with his long-legged stride, she said, “What can I do to help?”

“Maybe call—” He stopped abruptly and jerked his head around. He focused on her, the look in his eyes fierce and intent. “You’re a doctor. A pediatric surgeon.”

Oh no
. “Not anymore.”

“Come with me, Sage.”

No. No. No
. “I’m not licensed to practice in Texas.”

He waved that off, his expression desperate. “It’s an emergency, but beyond that, I’m not asking you to practice medicine.”

He took hold of her hand and started walking again. He thought aloud, obviously relieved to think that he had her—a pediatric surgeon—on his side. “It’s perfect. You’ll know what questions to ask, help us make decisions. The other families, too.”

He expects me to come. He’s not even considering otherwise
. “Colt …”

“Too bad Jack Davenport isn’t in town,” he said. “He could give us a ride in his helicopter. We couldn’t drive to Crested Butte in time to catch a flight out tonight. We’ll drive to Colorado Springs. I wonder if we can get a flight to Dallas tonight.” He sighed heavily. “It’s at
times like this I really miss my assistant. Amy would know … shoot.”

He pulled his phone back out of his pocket and dialed a number. A moment later, he said, “Yes, it’s Colt. Amy, I’m in a bind and need a big favor. Could you do your magic and tell me the fastest way I can get from Eternity Springs, Colorado, to Palestine, Texas? I need two seats.”

“Colt!” Sage attempted to interrupt him, but he either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her.

“Thanks a million. I … wait, I’m getting another call.” He checked the number, then said, “Call me back when you know something, please, Amy?”

He thumbed the number, then said, “Hey, Dad. Yes, he called me. Amy is working on getting me there the fastest way possible right now.”

He listened for a few minutes, then said, “Ah, no. I can’t imagine what their families must be going through. I think—wait, I think Amy is beeping in.… Sure will, Dad. You too. See you tomorrow.”

Then, “Amy, what do you have for me? … Okay … Okay … Really? All right, then, that’s what we’ll do. Thanks so much. I owe you one.”

He disconnected the call as they arrived at the Creekside Cabins. “Amy said we’d probably get there faster if we drive. Or if we drive as far as Amarillo tonight, we can catch a plane from there to Dallas tomorrow morning. If they haven’t transferred Rachel by then, we’ll rent a car and drive the rest of the way.”

He finally fell silent as he fished his keys from his pocket and ran up the steps to his cabin’s front door. Sage decided to wait until they were inside with some privacy to make him listen to her.

In the cabin, Colt headed straight for the bedroom and the closet with his duffel bag. “I’d rather not waste too much time packing. We can buy what we need once
we get to Texas. Ah, jeez, Sage, all those kids. Imagine how afraid they must have been. How afraid they are now.”

No, I won’t. I know how children look when they are afraid. When they’re bleeding. When they are dead
.

“My brother and his wife are driving to east Texas now. Our folks are on vacation with some friends in New York, and they’re going to fly out first thing in the morning. I think … oh, wait.” Colt’s gaze snagged on Shadow’s bed on the floor beside his bed. “What’ll we do with the dogs? Can Nic board them for us?”

At the moment, both Snowdrop and Shadow were at the doggie day care facility at Angel’s Rest. Although it did have a manager, as the local veterinarian, Nic oversaw the operation.