Vegas Sunrise (27 page)

Read Vegas Sunrise Online

Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Vegas Sunrise
10.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“That's because you made a very stupid mistake, Fanny. Even I knew it was a mistake. Family comes first. You always preached that to Sage and the others, and Sage preached it to me. Then you up and do something stupid that negates those same preachings. You should have listened to your children, Fanny. Because you didn't, Sage is off in a plane he's not familiar with, trying to aid his brother because he thinks he's in trouble. He could crash that plane and die. Your last memory of him will be that day in your kitchen when you turned on him in favor of Jeff Lassiter. How are you going to handle that, Fanny?”

“Iris. . . . I never heard you talk like this. You're making me sound like the enemy.”

“Right now you are the enemy. I didn't want Sage to go. He didn't listen to me. He would have listened to you, though. He turned to Ruby. Ruby took over your job, Fanny. She's been your stand-in for a long time now. I bet you didn't even notice.”

“Marcus . . .”

“Before Marcus. The world doesn't stand still because someone had an accident. I hope and I pray every night that Marcus will recover. There is nothing else I can do. Life has to go on whether we like it or not. There were a lot of things you could have done that you didn't do. Your whole family is fucked up, Fanny. You don't know the half of it. Excuse my language, but it's how I feel right now. I don't have anything else to say, so I'm going to hang up and watch the weather channel. Maybe you should do the same thing. Before I hang up, I'm going to give you something to think about. Ruby asked Celia to go with them and she said no. If I hear anything, I'll call you.”

A look of pure horror on her face, Fanny could only stare at the pinging phone in her hand as a headache banged away inside her head.

Out of control.

Helpless.

Alone.

Danger.

She would not cry. She absolutely would not cry.

“Pull up your socks, Fanny. You really didn't have a clue, did you? This isn't the end of the world, you know. It's close, though. You can't coast through life no matter how idyllic you think that life is. You can't rest on your laurels either. Do you know why that is, Fanny? Resting on your laurels is just an expression. If you rest, somebody else gets the bead on you and you lose it. You can't ever lose the edge that makes you who you are. You lost it once with Sunny because of Simon. I made sure you got it back. I'm not with you anymore, Fanny. You're on your own now. Get that edge back before it's too late. You're the only one who can do it. If you don't get on it, you're lost.”

Fanny whirled around. She wasn't sleeping this time. She wasn't dreaming either. “Ash?” she whispered. When there was no response, and she knew there wouldn't be, Fanny beat her clenched fists on the arms of the chair. Ash was right, she'd lost the edge.

You're the only one who can do it.

Fanny gritted her teeth. “I can do this. I will do this.”

Where to start? Ash was right. She didn't have a clue. Or, did she? Ash wanted his wings back. That was a place to start. Steal them, he'd said. “I can do that.” Iris had said Celia was having an affair with Sage. “I can take care of that, too.” She did have a place to start after all.

“Thanks, Ash.”

“Anytime.”

Fanny jerked around. All she could hear was a low, throaty chuckle that at one time had heated her blood and made her pulses sing. She smiled as she ripped off a salute that would have pleased a five-star general.

Back among the living.

With a mission.

The time was one o'clock in the morning.

Five more hours till the world woke.

Five hours to form a plan.

Things were going to be all right. Ash would have told her if something was going to go awry. Still, Fanny kept her eyes on the television screen as a plan began to formulate in her mind.

Thanks to Ash, her edge was almost within her grasp.

 

The two wheelchairs rolled silently down the carpeted hallway to the main room of the lodge. The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the fireplace. Fed by propane gas and thick logs, the fire burned slowly. Very little warmth could be felt in the room. “It feels kind of like church, doesn't it, Harry? It's so quiet and still. I can even smell beeswax. They must use it on the furniture. It's so white outside. Isn't it amazing that rain and sleet make noise but snow doesn't? It's truly soundless. It's supposed to be like this on Christmas Eve. It never is, though.”

“Sunny, very rarely do I think about the past. No matter what, we can't get it back. Just once, though, I'd like . . . I'd like to jump up and
RUN.
Before we go out those doors, I want us both to understand, and to agree, that something could happen to us. I'm willing to take the chance for myself. My motor skills are better than yours. I can't make that decision for you, Sunny. You have to think about Jake and Polly.”

“Nothing is going to happen, Harry. We're going to stick together. We could talk ourselves out of this if we keep this up. Let's do one last-minute check before we open those doors.”

Harry rattled off the items from the list he withdrew from his pocket. Sunny ticked each one off. “Okay, Harry, let's go.”

Their wheelchairs side by side, they managed to get the door open without a problem. Harry wheeled his chair backward to hold the door open for Sunny. She scooted through as a gust of snow hit her head-on. She laughed as she steered her chair to the side to allow room for Harry. “Put your goggles on, Harry.”

“I got them on, Sunny. They should make these things with wipers. It feels great. It's really coming down. I bet there is twelve inches of snow out here. It's drifting, too. Get behind me, Sunny, so your chair shoves mine. Even though they blew this path clear, it's drifting. We need all the power we can get out of these chairs to get us to the barn. Are you okay? Do you love this?”

“I love this, Harry. I really do. Keep going, don't stop.” She was shouting, her voice carrying on the wind. She had no way of knowing if Harry heard her or not.

In the lead, a violent gust of snow slammed against Harry, pushing his chair backward, Sunny's chair sliding behind him. His chair tilted as he grappled with the padded armrests, trying to rock the chair toward the left to right it. Sunny swerved her chair, ramming it against his. She moved the control to reverse and then back to forward until Harry's chair was moving forward. The wheelchair races they had at the center were proving to be invaluable now. The makeshift obstacle courses on the center grounds would help both of them if Harry didn't forget all he'd learned. Harry waved his arm to indicate he was okay.

Sunny snuggled deeper into her jacket, shrugging the muffler up to her nose and chin. She felt a moment of panic when she realized her chair was slowing down. They'd charged the batteries earlier, but the manufacturer probably hadn't allowed for such a strenuous terrain. She made a mental note to write them a letter about the chair's performance.

Harry turned around. “I'm losing juice, how about you?”

“I'm slowing down, too. Can you see the barn? It's not that far from the lodge.”

“I think I can see it. We still have some ground to cover, and the snow is getting deeper. My wheels are caking up with snow.”

“So are mine. What should we do?”

“Turn off the battery and propel it.”

“I can't turn the wheels, Harry. I'm stuck in the tire grooves you made. Can you move your chair?”

“Some. We don't want to use all our energy to slog a few inches. I think we're a little more than halfway. We both have upper-body strength. If we slide out of the chairs and get on our knees, we can shove the chairs forward. I'll wiggle behind you and push you since I have more strength. The chairs will take the brunt of the battering. Do you agree?”

Sunny was already out of the chair crawling forward as Harry crawled backward.

Exhilarated, Sunny shouted, “It's working, and we're making better time. I see the barn. Are you okay?”

“I'm okay. Don't talk. Just keep moving.”

“The snow's getting deeper, Harry. The drifts are up to my chest. The chair won't go through. Stop. We need to think this out.” Sunny sat down in the snow. “We should leave the chairs and belly-whop the rest of the way. We can't get hurt. The snow is soft. I'm game if you are. We're about five hundred feet from the barn. Think of it in terms of swimming, Harry. We won't have to exercise for a month. I'm a better swimmer, so I'll go first.”

Harry felt his first moment of panic as he pushed his chair aside. The chair meant safety, and he was giving it up. He wondered how long it would take for the drifts to cover it. He could feel his heart take on an extra beat. The snow would obliterate all traces of them. He was on his own now, as was Sunny.
Don't think,
he cautioned himself.
Just do what Sunny's doing. The barn's in sight. You can do this. You will do this because you are capable of doing it.
Oh, yeah, in water. This was snow. Thick, heavy snow. Deadly snow. He risked a glance backward for one last look at his and Sunny's wheelchairs. He couldn't see them.

“How much farther?” he shouted.

“I don't know,” Sunny shouted back. “I told you not to look. Just keep moving forward. You lose momentum if you stop.”

She was right. Sunny was always right. He flopped forward with all the strength he could muster. His face came down on the heel of Sunny's boots. Stars ricocheted inside his head. Had he broken his nose? He felt something warm on his upper lip. Blood, he surmised. He brushed at it with the sleeve of his jacket before he gave another violent surge forward. He repeated his efforts until he was dizzy. He didn't stop. He knew instinctively if he stopped, he'd never move again. He wanted to scream, to bellow, how much farther, when Sunny gasped. “Just a few more feet, Harry. I can see the barn door. Don't stop.”

Every bone in his slender body protesting, Harry sidled up next to Sunny. “We made it, thanks to you.”

“No, Harry. You did the first half. I did the second half. You sound funny. What's wrong?”

“I think I broke my nose.”

“In the snow?” Suddenly she started to laugh. “That's the funniest thing I ever heard. We have to make sure we log that ditty in when we get back to the center. Listen. We have to figure out how we're going to open the door. If you cup your hands together and if you think you can hold my weight, I can put my knees in your hands. I should be able to open the door that way. Closing it might present a problem. Don't worry if I fall. I'll land in the snow.”

“The door's on hinges. It swings shut by itself. I noticed that the other day. Okay, climb on.”

Her hands on Harry's shoulders, Sunny pulled herself closer. Harry reached for her waist to help her into the deep well he made with his arms. He almost fainted when he heard the door swing open. Together they rolled over and over until they were on the dry concrete inside the barn. The huge door closed with a loud bang.

Safe.

Both lay quietly on the concrete, their breathing rapid and coarse-sounding.

“It's dark as hell in here,” Sunny said a long time later. “There is a lantern on each post. I saw them the first day we were here. We'll have to do the knee thing again, but first I have to get my bearings. How many times did we roll over?”

“Four I think.”

“That means one of the poles should be off to my right. Light a match. We can't afford to use up all my energy. I don't mind telling you I'm going to need some time to rest before we go out on those snowmobiles.”

“We'll eat one of the candy bars and one of the oranges. That will fix our blood sugar. We'll save the rest. How are your battery packs?”

“My feet are still warm. The ones inside my gloves are okay, too. We probably have two more hours on each pack. We got here, Harry! Isn't it amazing? How's your nose?”

“It hurts like hell. I'm not going to worry about it. When we get out in the snow, it'll probably freeze up. Okay, look quick because the match is probably going to go out since it's drafty in here.”

“Okay, I see it. Five rollovers should do it. Harry!”

“What?”

“We left our gear in the wheelchair pockets. The only thing I have on me is the battery packs and the candy bars. You have the oranges and your battery packs. You do, don't you?”

“Just the oranges and the packs. We left them behind? How could I have been so stupid?”

“It was easy. I didn't think about it either, so that makes both of us stupid. We can stay here and not take the machines out. Someone will come and get us in the morning. How many matches do you have left?”

“A whole pack.”

“I'm going to roll over; follow me and count. Five rolls straight across and then two down in a straight line. I'll probably smack right into it.”

Twenty minutes later there was light in the barn. The matchbook held only three matches thanks to the draft in the barn. Sunny and Harry huddled close, with their backs to the pole holding the lantern.

“I think, Harry, a twenty-minute catnap would be a good idea. You sleep first, and I'll watch the lantern. After I wake up, we'll eat the orange and the candy bar. After we do that we'll decide if we want to finish what we started. We need the rest. We got this far, Harry, and we took care of ourselves. It's a dumb thing we're doing to other people but not us. We panicked back there. One of the most important things they taught us was not to panic. So what do we do? We panic. That's not going to happen again. I'll wake you in twenty minutes. The sound of the wind is hypnotic. When we lived on Sunrise, I prayed for wind to rock across the mountain.”

Sunny looked down at Harry. He was already asleep, snoring lightly. She herself was exhausted but she wasn't so tired she would fall asleep on her watch. She spent the time humming a lullaby Jake loved when he was a baby. Her gaze swiveled around the cavernous barn. Storage cabinets were everywhere. They probably held blankets, flashlights, and all the things they'd left behind in their wheelchairs. She could use up the twenty minutes rolling and sliding around to get what they needed if Harry still wanted to go out on the snowmobiles.

Other books

DirtyBeautiful by Jodie Becker
Thirst No. 2 by Christopher Pike