The Comforts of Home (11 page)

He checked the doors. Both locked, but he could see what looked like a woman’s purse on the passenger side.

Abandoned cars didn’t usual y come with purses.

Shoving more snow off the window, he tried to see inside, looking for any information that would help him figure out who owned this piece of junk.

Something moved in the backseat.

Tyler jumped back, holding his flashlight as a weapon.

After taking a few deep breaths, he looked again, tel ing himself an animal might have crawled inside the car looking for shelter from the freezing wind and been trapped.

He thought he saw a tennis shoe. Then another. He rapped on the window. “Is anyone in there? This is private property; you can’t stay here.”

Tyler remembered hearing his father tel about hobos camping out in the back of the cemetery, and now and then Tyler had caught kids sneaking in on a dare. Only this time, he had no idea what he faced.

Pul ing out his cel , he dialed 911.

The dispatcher picked up on the first ring.

“This is Tyler Wright,” Tyler said as he watched someone moving around in the cramped backseat. “I’m at the back gate of the cemetery. Could you send someone? I have a trespasser.”

“We’re on our way, Mr. Wright. Do not confront. I repeat.

Do not confront.”

Tyler smiled, guessing the dispatcher was reading from a book. What did the man think he was going to do, tackle the guy in the car and hold him down until help arrived?

Flipping the phone closed, he waited. When whoever was sleeping in the car climbed out, he didn’t plan to do anything but talk. If the stranger tried to drive off, he would simply get out of the way. After al , al Tyler wanted was the car gone.

It took a few minutes, but final y the passenger door flew open and long thin legs appeared. Then hair. Half a bushel of curly sand-colored hair almost brushed the ground as the intruder leaned forward and planted tennis shoes in the snow.

In the beam of the flashlight, he couldn’t be sure, but the moment she flipped her hair back, Tyler realized the squatter was a girl.

“What do you want, you idiot?” She didn’t sound very friendly. “You woke me up.”

“You’re parked in the cemetery.” Tyler said the obvious.

“I haven’t heard any of the neighbors complain.” Her clothes were wrinkled, her fist clenched, but he didn’t miss the sparkle of fear in her eyes as his flashlight turned on her face. “I’ve already cal ed the police.” He tried to sound calm, but nerves made him yel .

“Don’t threaten me,” she shouted as she moved forward.

“And get that damn light out of my face.”

Her hand swung at the flashlight.

Tyler stepped backward, avoiding her advance. Her arm hit the flashlight. Tyler jumped, almost dropping it. His feet went flying out from under him. He hit the cold ground with a hard thud. His head seemed to bounce against something and hit a second time before the flashlight vaulted from his hand and slammed against his forehead.

The world had turned to one giant snow globe in his mind, but he thought he heard a squeal a moment before the woman landed on top of him.

In al of Tyler’s life he’d never been a fighter. In fact, he thought, generations of possum blood must run in his family, because their first and only line of defense seemed to be to rol over and play dead.

The woman tried to shove herself off him as the sound of a siren fil ed the air. Tyler closed his eyes, letting pain rattle through his entire body while the night grew even darker.

In what seemed like only a blink’s worth of time passing, Tyler found himself in an ambulance with an EMT who had
Charles
written across his chest pocket tel ing him he was going to live.

Tyler pushed the man away. “Of course I’m going to live.”

Charles looked as if Tyler had just moved from the victim line to the nutcase line. “You must not remember, Mr.

Wright. You were violently attacked at the back gate of the cemetery. Deputy Phil Gentry has the woman in the back of his squad car. He’l have her locked up by the time we get you to the hospital. She was one yel ing screaming bal of mad when we pul ed her off you.”

Tyler felt his throbbing headache getting worse. “She didn’t attack me,” he said as he pieced everything together.

“I frightened her. She yel ed at me and I slipped on the ice. I must have hit her when I went down because a moment after I fel , she landed on top of me.”

The EMT leaned closer. “You sure about that, sir? It sure looked like she was pounding on you when we pul ed up.”

“I’m sure, Charles. Get a hold of Phil and have him bring her to the hospital. She’s as likely to have injuries as I am.” The EMT hesitated. “It was so dark. We thought . . .” Tyler nodded, then regretted it. No matter how bad he felt, he couldn’t let some poor woman spend the night in jail because of what was as much his fault as hers. He shouldn’t have yel ed at her like he did. Shining the light in her face must have scared her to death. And tel ing her the police were on their way probably didn’t do much good either.

If his head weren’t pounding, he’d say he was sorry.

Instead, he closed his eyes and listened to the EMT trying to explain everything to the deputy. Apparently, they hadn’t saved his life, they’d just picked up two people who’d fal en on the ice.

He made an effort to free himself from the gurney, but the EMT had to help him. A few minutes later, Tyler walked into the emergency room. A nurse showed him to a room, and within an hour the doctor released him. He had a mild concussion, a bad bruise on his left hip, and a knot on his forehead the size of a golf bal from the flashlight.

When he walked to the desk to wait for Calvin to come pick him up, Tyler asked about the woman. She’d been admitted. Besides bruises, she was dehydrated and running a fever.

Tyler stepped outside when Calvin pul ed up in the old station wagon they always used to pick up bodies from the hospital. Much less obvious than a hearse. Tyler thought of climbing in the back and lying down. The way his head hurt, he was at least half dead. Plus, he felt like somehow al the injuries, his and hers, had been his fault tonight. She probably didn’t have any money and was just looking for a quiet place to sleep. He should have waited until afternoon to check the back gate. If she had been stil there, then they could have talked.

Calvin drove home so slowly that Tyler could have walked beside the car.

The third time Tyler assured Calvin that he was al right, the older man dialed Beth, the funeral home receptionist and bookkeeper. “He’s hurt,” Calvin whispered, as if Tyler couldn’t hear, “but he’s going to be al right. Cal the others.

I’m inbound now.”

Tyler wasn’t surprised they were al waiting for him when he got home. Calvin and Dave, who did work on the cemetery grounds, tried to help him inside. Beth and Stel a, the night host, asked him questions al the way up the front steps.

He final y turned to the four of them and smiled. “I’m al right. I swear. I don’t need help getting upstairs or someone to stay with me.” He smiled at Stel a McNabb, who looked like she might cry. “I could use some cocoa, though, and maybe a few of your cookies.”

The women hurried off, happy to have something to do.

Calvin and Dave walked him up the stairs anyway, wanting to know details of the accident.

By the time Tyler had finished, the women were there with cocoa and cookies. As they each said good night and offered to come in a moment’s notice if he needed anything, Tyler added four more people in the world that he mattered to.

THE HOSPITAL IN MEMPHIS LOOKED HUGE AS

REAGAN paid the cabdriver and walked inside. She’d tossed a few changes of clothes and a toothbrush in her bag along with her computer. Over the months she’d learned that when she entered a hospital, she never knew how long it would be until she walked out.

The nurse at the desk pointed her toward the ICU but didn’t seem overly friendly. Maybe it was because Reagan looked more like a homeless person than a visitor. She’d grabbed her work coat by mistake and on the plane noticed it had a rip along the pocket and stains on both sleeves.

She’d checked on Uncle Jeremiah, then left the farm before daylight. Foster explained over and over how he’d never leave Jeremiah’s side while she was gone. If the old man took one step downhil in his recovery, they’d cal her right away. Cindy drove her to Amaril o to catch a plane, tel ing her everything she could do to help Noah.

From Amaril o she’d gone to Dal as and waited two hours for a flight to Memphis. Al in al she figured it had taken her almost as long to fly as it would have taken her to drive. She’d cal ed Noah’s phone twice, but there’d been no answer.

Once Reagan found the ICU, she made a corner of the waiting room home and watched the wal clock for the fifteen minutes of visitation every two hours. Noah was asleep the first time she saw him. The nurse warned her not to wake him. Besides bruised and broken, he looked thinner and older than he’d been last summer.

Reagan stared at the man and remembered the boy.

He’d been almost seventeen when he’d walked up to her in the school courtyard at lunch. He was al legs and hat and ful of bul . He’d told her that first day they met that he would be a hunk someday.

She smiled, brushed her hand along the cast on his arm, and thought how he’d been right. His long muscles had hardened into a powerful body, and the jaw, now bruised and covered in whiskers, was clenched tight, fighting the pain. If he’d been an actor on the screen he would have broken hearts, because he looked like the perfect image of a real western cowboy come to life.

Reagan didn’t try to stop the tears as she started remembering al the times he’d been hurt and how every time he fought back. But now it might not be as easy.

Broken bones and bruises would heal, but tubes running to him told her there was more wrong this time. Internal injuries, maybe, or a back that might never be strong again.

“If you cal ed me to come to watch you die,” she whispered, “I swear I’l never forgive you.” He didn’t move, but the beeps and rhythm of the machine frightened her. She took his hand. A man’s hand, strong and scarred. “I’ve come to take you home, Noah. I don’t think I can make it without you for a friend right now.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt his fingers tighten.

Before she could say more, the nurse told her it was time to go.

Reagan smiled and whispered, “See you soon.” The first night she slept in the waiting room. The second day he was out having tests run during every visiting time.

As far as she could tel , no one had tried to see him except her, and no one had cal ed to ask the volunteer at the main desk about his condition. His family didn’t know, and the cowboys he’d been traveling with had moved on to the next rodeo. Knowing Noah, he’d probably told them he was fine and family was on their way.

She was asleep, her second night in the waiting room, when a nurse came out and said he was awake. “I’l sneak you in, but only for a few minutes. It’l make him feel better just knowing you’re here.”

Reagan scrambled. She didn’t even bother putting on her shoes; she just fol owed the nurse.

Noah’s eyes were open—at least one of them; the other was swol en closed, and varying shades of purple striped the lid like a bad makeup job.

“Hi, Rea. Nice to see you.” He gripped her hand tightly, saying far more with his touch than with his words.

She smiled. “It’s good to see you too.”

“The nurse told me some scrappy girl was out in the waiting room. Been giving them hel for two days wanting to know what’s happening.” He groaned when she laughed. “I knew it had to be you.”

Rea looked down at her once-clean shirt. She’d spil ed her drink on it yesterday, but hardly noticed the stain until now. “I was planning to clean up in the morning before I saw you.”

“You look great just the way you are. Thanks for coming.

I probably shouldn’t have cal ed, but I didn’t want to go through this alone.”

“I don’t look great. You can’t see wel , or maybe this time you real y did take one too many blows to the head.” He squeezed her fingers.

“I haven’t been much help either. Since I’m not kin, the doctors won’t talk to me. In fact, I’ve pestered one so much, he runs when he sees me coming.”

“You’ve been more help than you know just being there.” He suddenly looked very tired. “One of the nurses said they’l be moving me to a room tomorrow. I’m just sleeping here for tonight since they’re not ful . Why don’t you go find a real place to sleep and I’l see you in the morning.”