Pieces of Broken Time (11 page)

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Authors: Lorenz Font

BOOK: Pieces of Broken Time
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The triage nurse looked at them with a surprised expression. “What can I do for you?” she asked, eyeing Jennifer.

“The lady cut her foot. She needs a tetanus shot and some stitches, I believe.”

The nurse walked around the desk and unwrapped the bandage that covered Jennifer’s foot. After the initial assessment, the nurse returned to her desk, pulled a clipboard, and slipped some papers on it. “I need you to fill out these forms. Have a seat.” The nurse gestured toward the sitting area.

Jennifer took the clipboard and squirmed under Blake’s grasp. “Put me down, will you?”

Blake gave her a challenging stare and turned back to the nurse. “How long is the wait?” he asked with a tinge of impatience.

“Sir, look around you. See the full room?”

He glanced at the room and muttered, “Not a drop of blood anywhere.”

The nurse gave him a stern wave. “We’ll call her as soon as we can.”

Blake sighed, his displeasure written all over his face. “Thanks.”

He walked toward the two empty chairs nearby and deposited Jennifer on one and sat next to her. “Fill out those forms, and I’ll take them to the nurse when you’re done. Hurry up.”

“If you have somewhere to go, you can leave now. As I said, I’ll be fine.”

“Will you stop shooing me away? Just fill out the damn forms, and be done with it.” He tried to calm his brewing temper by taking deep breaths. He crinkled his nose on a deep inhale.

Hospitals had a unique smell—sanitary yet medicinal, in an oddly noxious way—and he absolutely hated them. If he stayed a moment longer, there was a good chance he’d lose it. He stared straight ahead, focusing on the mural across the room.

Raking his eye across the green landscape, he expected a wave of calm to engulf him.

Nothing.

Instead, he felt a rising tension in his shoulders as they pulled toward his ears, bunching up like an angry fist. Resisting the urge to bolt, he started chanting some calming words inside his head.

Jennifer sighed and filled out the forms.

While she took another minute to review them, Blake closed his eyes and tried to block out the incessant reminders of his past as the murmured hum of the other people swirled around him. Blasts of gunfire echoed in his mind, the crying children grated his nerves, and the coughing old man behind him pushed him toward the edge.

“Here,” Jennifer said and shoved the clipboard in his hand.

Blake almost shot out of the chair to return the forms to the nurse.

The nurse took the clipboard, inspecting each answer as Blake turned to walk away. “Thanks. We will call her as soon as we can.”

Instead of going back to sit with Jennifer, he walked out the ER door. He was better off in the clear air and where he could think. Jennifer had been so close, and the stifling confines of the hospital made him twitchy.

To keep himself occupied, he moved the Jeep to the designated registration parking space and came back to lean against the wall by the entrance.

This turn of events had surprised him.

Lancaster was generally a safe place to live. Reported burglaries were few, but with the influx of new faces moving into the once sleepy town, there could be no guarantee what type of characters were in their midst anymore.

After what seemed like forever, he saw a nurse through the glass door approaching Jennifer with a wheelchair. Debating whether or not to join her, he watched Jennifer wince as she eased into the chair with the nurse’s help. As much as he wanted to leave, a sudden attack of guilt had him stepping on the pad and waiting for the glass doors to open so he could follow the direction he’d seen them wheel Jennifer.

The flimsy cubicle curtain was all that was between him and hearing everything happening on the other side.

He waited outside, trying his best to appear inconspicuous.

An eye patch and a beanie in the middle of this heatwave . . . fat chance no one will notice me.

Sure enough, several nurses passing by glanced his way and were quick to look away.

Blake stayed glued to his spot during the arduous wait. He heard Jennifer gasp and the doctor chastise her while suturing her instep.

After announcing six stitches were firmly in place, advising Jennifer to stay off her feet for a week—no driving either—the doctor walked out of the small cubicle and was taken aback when he saw Blake standing outside. “Can I help you?”

Blake shook his head. “I’m Ms. Owens’ ride.”

“She’s inside. You can go in.” The doctor pulled the curtain open for him.

Blake hesitated. One look at the miserable expression on Jennifer’s face and he almost stumbled in his haste to get to her. “What’s wrong? How are you feeling? Are you okay? What do you need? Should I call the doctor back?” He felt a cold finger of fear tickle his spine as the words spilled out in a rush, and he brushed the tendrils of hair that fell over her face.

“I won’t be able to move around for a week, and I can’t even drive.” Her voice was low, filled with dread and something else he couldn’t pinpoint.

Without considering what she thought of him, he stepped closer, tilted her chin up and stared into her eyes. “Don’t worry about the things you can’t control. Just follow the doctor’s orders, and stay off that foot.”

It might have been the pain from the cut, the shock of finding her house turned upside down, or the fear of losing control that pushed Jennifer to tears, Blake would never know, but compassion dictated his next move. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head against his chest. The comfort was meant for her, but he felt a different kind of emotion, something he hadn’t felt before. For the first time in a long time, the ache he felt was not his own. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than the power to ease her pain and all that troubled her.

 

Jennifer surrendered to the warmth of Blake’s embrace, savoring human contact that she’d been denied since Trent’s demise. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed physical connection. The pain of the past, the loss of loved ones, and the uncertainty of her future all hit her at once, and Blake held her as the worst of her emotions broke out in torrents.

He said nothing. Instead, he continued holding her until the last of her tears had ebbed.

She had no idea how much time had passed while each of them clung to the other, but she was jerked back to the present when she heard someone clear his throat.

Blake let her go and took her hand.

The doctor held up a pair of aluminum crutches and a prescription. “This should help you get around, but as I said before, you’ll need to stay off that foot for at least a week. I’d hate to see you back here again with open sutures. The prescription is for pain. It might knock you out in the beginning, but it’ll do its job. The sutures will have to be checked by either your regular doctor or come back here after seven days. If your wound is healing as expected, then the sutures can be removed at that time.”

Jennifer watched the doctor in a daze.

Blake must have sensed her helplessness and took over. “I’ll make sure she’s off her feet. Anything else, doctor?”

“I believe we’re done here. Remember, no dancing and no strenuous activities until the wound is healed.”

Blake chuckled and Jennifer blinked at the double entendre. “I don’t dance so I’m pretty sure she won’t either.” Blake took the crutches from the doctor and handed them to her. “Here, why don’t you see if you can manage to walk with them?”

She hopped off the examination table and fitted the crutches in her armpits. She took a few steps but felt her balance go as the rubber end slid one way and her body went the other.

Blake grabbed her by the waist to steady her.

She gritted her teeth. “This is not going to be easy.”

Blake gathered her purse and walked out of the room. “Shall we?”

With slow, ungainly steps and heavy heart, Jennifer followed him out of the emergency room and into the quiet night. She was out of her element. Several emotions warred inside her, mingling with the pain from the newly sutured wound. The uncertainty of the coming week and the remnants of Blake’s embrace tangled within, making her want to run away for sheer self-preservation.

With nothing but the car radio playing softly in the background, Blake seemed wrapped up in his thoughts and left her to her own devices.

Jennifer had no problem with the companionable silence. It gave her the chance to think.

How in God’s name did I end up here?

Coleen had been successful in planting a seed of doubt at lunch regarding Blake, and Jennifer could stop searching for reasons why had he moved in the same town.

Once they reached his house, Blake parked the Jeep on the driveway.

She noticed that his movement had markedly slowed as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle.

He pulled out Jennifer’s duffel from the backseat and winced.

Jennifer hopped out of the vehicle and tried to keep up with him on the gravel walkway. “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying not to sound worried.

“Nothing.”

In the glow of the moonlight, she saw the hard line on his face. The walls were up once again, and she knew prying further would get her nowhere.

He opened the door and turned the light on. “I’ll set you up in my bedroom, and I’ll take the couch in the extra room.”

Jennifer glanced around the living room and stopped in her tracks. “No, I’ll only be here for one night. There’s no need for you to give up your bed. I’ll sleep in the extra room.”

He whipped around and gave her an agonized stare. “Jennifer, please. I want you to be comfortable. A couch isn’t ideal for someone who’s nursing an injury.”

Her heart ached at the look on his face and sound of his voice, but she couldn’t let it go. “And you’re not? Look at you . . . you exerted yourself tonight. Don’t bother arguing with me. I can see it in your face.”

His chin lifted in that proud manner she was beginning to recognize. She could see that her words had cut through him, but he didn’t deny them.

“I’m going to my therapy tomorrow. Sam will ease the tightness. Please, do this for me. Use my bedroom for the duration of your stay here. Don’t argue. It’s late, and I’m tired.”

As much as she wanted to pursue the subject, she knew what it had taken for him to admit to being tired.

“Fine . . . I’ll use your room tonight, but I’m out of here tomorrow.”

A glint of triumph flickered in his eye before he turned and led her to his room. “Let’s take it day by day,” he said.

Everything about his bedroom screamed masculine simplicity—from the heady scent that assaulted her to the muted color of his bedspread and the sparse furniture. No clutter, just the basics. A digital clock sat on a nightstand, a lamp and a desk occupied the opposite end of the room, and mountains of
Playboy
magazines piled beside the bed.

An unexpected grin eased across his face as Blake realized what she’d spotted, but he simply shrugged and offered no excuses. He placed her duffel bag next to the bed. “I’ll get a towel for you. Remember, you can’t wet your feet yet, so I suggest a sponge bath.” The humorous lilt of his voice was unmistakable.

Jennifer sat on the bed and rested the crutches next to her. She hoped her jaw wasn’t as far on the floor as she thought it might be.

She ignored his jibe. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be in the room across the hallway.”

She let out a sigh and tried to relax. It had been a long day.

Blake came back after a few minutes with a towel and placed it on the bed next to her. He stood close with hands in his pocket. “I’m glad nothing happened to you. It could’ve been worse. Now, try to get some sleep. If you need anything, I’ll leave my door open so I can hear you.” He brushed an errant wisp of hair away from her face.

Jennifer’s breath stilled, reminded of the tender gesture in the hospital. “Thanks,” she said softly.

 

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