Rebuilding Her Life
Autorzy
Ruth Logan Herne
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16,0K
Rozdziały
19
HarlequinChapter One
Hello, childhood.
Jess Bristol sucked in a breath as she steered her rental car along mountain roads she hadn’t seen in years. Curve upon curve, the lush Appalachian forest floated by on her right while a winter valley stretched wide on her left. Beautiful. Bucolic. Pastoral.
But when she hugged a bend that took her farther down the mountain, the Manhattan trauma doctor’s breathing went tight for a different reason. The aftermath of the recent forest fire surrounded her. While some things had been completely consumed by the raging inferno, others had been randomly skipped over, leaving a tree here, bushes there. But not much had escaped the fire’s wrath along this stretch, and the sleepy mountain town below—her hometown—had taken a nasty hit.
The late December fire had started high in the hills and swept down, fed by a strong east wind. Around her, the remnants of that two-day blaze lay haphazard and dark against the fresh falling snow.
Burned trees and ash peppered what had been a pristine landscape. She’d seen the news reports and her mother had sent several pictures of the recent disaster that had besieged the area. But the photos hadn’t done it justice.
Devastation sprawled to her east, west and south. The fire’s path had traveled straight for Kendrick Creek, the Tennessee mountain town she’d called home for over two decades. From here she could see the swath of wreckage along this edge of the fire. It hadn’t burned the whole town, but it had ruined enough. In a little place like Kendrick Creek, it didn’t take much to have a huge effect.
New York was different. And after spending twenty years in Manhattan, Jess was different. But she wasn’t in New York now, so she paused and studied the sight below her.
It was bad. Her mother hadn’t exaggerated, but then, she never had. Dr. Mary Bristol had taught her well when she’d taken the orphaned toddler under her wing forty years before. She’d stood by Jess through thick and thin.
Now it was Jess’s turn.
She swallowed a sigh and lifted her chin. It wasn’t about what she was giving up in Manhattan.
It was about what she was giving back. As she gazed down at the scarred town, her resolve faltered. Could she be a help to these folks? Or would her big city ways be more of a hindrance?
That, girlie, is up to you now, isn’t it?
Granny Gee’s voice came back to her. The words of wisdom the old mountain woman had passed on before she’d died. She hadn’t had to die. Jess hadn’t known that then. She understood it now. Granny was old-mountain stubborn and not about to travel any kind of distance for medical care. Good was good enough, she’d liked to say.
It wasn’t, but there was no arguing with an up-mountain woman. Not then, and the same probably held true today.
So what good could Jess do here? Would the townspeople welcome her back while she helped her mother get Kendrick Creek Medical back up and running? Or would they scorn her “highfalutin” ways? She wasn’t sure how it would go, but there, in the middle of the scorched and scarred town, one thing showed bright between the snowflakes despite the damage that had occurred. The church spire shone clean and white through the thinned expanse of downed trees and snow-crusted ash.
Her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. Her mother’s number showed up in the display. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you really on your way home?” Mary asked. “Jess, darling, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine. You know that. And we’ve got this. Everyone will come together to make things right again. They always do. It’s how things are done here.”
Mary Bristol had taken charge of an orphaned little girl when her family had been lost in a mountain road accident. She’d taken care of Jess from the first news of the wreck and seen her through the long hospitalization in Sevierville and weeks of physical therapy Jess had required as a result of the crushing blow she’d incurred that day. She hadn’t been in a car seat. Probably not even in a seat belt.
Her adoptive mother had swooped in and taken charge like a she-bear, and Jess had gotten the best care, the best therapy, and had the best life. The thought of not helping her mother in a time of need was reprehensible. While Jess wasn’t always the most tactful person, she wasn’t a jerk, and she owed Mary Bristol absolutely everything. “Mom. You’re stuck with me. And it’s perfect timing because I’m between assignments right now. It’s all good. I just caught sight of the town.”
“A shock, isn’t it? Even though Graham Tyler kept telling the town we were a sitting duck—but that’s talk for another day. Drive safe, all right? If you’re on the parkway, that road ices over real quick, honey.”
Graham Tyler. He’d been two classes ahead of her at Kendrick Creek High School and a jerk. Maybe he’d changed. And maybe not. “I will. See you soon.”
She turned off the Bluetooth and edged the SUV back onto the road.
Icy was right. Who’d have thought that pausing for five minutes to survey the damage would make a difference?
As she eased back onto the pavement, the tires slipped like water on glass. She gripped the wheel tight. Too tight, maybe. Then she hit the gas gently, like she’d been taught years before. Not gently enough, apparently.
The back tires slipped to the right.
Jess had been a great driver back in the day, but she hadn’t had to drive on snowy roads in over fifteen years. She turned the wheel.
Wrong way.
The vehicle didn’t pull out of the skid, even with the SUV’s computerized traction functions engaged. Her car spun at least once, maybe more, and careened into a slim, burned tree, back onto the road then back...
Sliding sideways...
Toward the open expanse of the timber-burned hillside that sloughed off in a long and possibly fatal drop. No guardrails blocked her slide. The forest that used to cradle the west side of the road was gone and Jess saw the tumbled and turned landslide as her possible demise.
She screamed.
She forgot everything she’d learned in driving school. For those quicksilver moments, all she saw was mortality and she was helpless to do anything about it.
Then the SUV spun one more time and, instead of the unblocked cliff before her, she found herself facing the scarred mountain slope above—from a vantage point that told her she was still in trouble.
“Mom?” She uttered the word carefully, in case the call was still connected. No voice answered her, so at least her mother had been spared the trauma of hearing her daughter’s screams.
She glanced into the rearview mirror.
Snow filled the view. Snow that was falling well below her current line of vision.
That meant she was hovering close to the unprotected cliff side. Maybe too close to that sheer drop-down. Maybe not.
She unhooked her shoulder belt and turned slightly. That tiny action tipped the vehicle. Not good.
She hit the phone icon on the dashboard and sent out a 9-1-1 call. Should she sit and wait for the SUV to fall or risk climbing out?
Jess reached for the door handle but the SUV shifted again. From the view out her driver’s-side window, she realized that while her tires were still on the ice-slick road’s shoulder, the back end of her SUV was hanging over empty space.
Her heart jumped with an adrenaline rush.
She took a breath as the 9-1-1 call connected. When the operator asked, “What is your emergency?” Jess pretended she was in the ER and had to keep her cool to save a life. The pretense helped.
“This is Jess Bristol, I’m on the parkway, just above Kendrick Creek. My car spun out and I’m hovering on the edge of the cliff. The car moves every time I move and I’m afraid it’s going over the edge if I try to get out.”
“Are you visible from the road?”
“I am.”
“And you can’t exit the car?”
“Not safely.”
“I’ve got help coming your way, miss, you’re not too far out of town, but your mama has a police radio to stay up on things, and if she’s hearing this call...well, you know her. She might be the first person there.”
“Let’s hope not, shall we?” The thought of her mother watching helplessly while Jess’s SUV slipped over the cliff wasn’t a welcome one. And the fact that her mother had probably heard the call-out and was heading her way reminded Jess that nothing was private in a small town. In her Long Island City condo, her life was her own. No one bothered her and she returned the favor.
Kendrick Creek was different.
A gust of wind barreled down from the hills above her. Her vehicle rocked. Did it shift?
Yes.
And not in a good way.
She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to pray. She hadn’t prayed in a whole lot of years. More than she cared to admit. But this seemed like a real good time to start again.
Dear God. Help me. Please. Just that. I don’t know what to do and I need help. Please. Just send help.
“Are you hurt?”
The strong male voice brought her chin up quickly.
Shane Stone.
There.
Outside her window.
The guy she’d ratted out in high school when a whole bunch of funds had disappeared from a local fundraiser. Shane Stone...a guy who’d filled a young girl’s thoughts with all kinds of romantic notions until she’d seen him with that folded wad of bills like it was no big deal.
His eyes went wide as he surveyed her situation. Gorgeous eyes, still. Big blue eyes beneath shaggy brown hair that could use a trim but looked ruggedly appealing... And that heart-stopping face. Older. Wiser, maybe? And staring at her as if he’d just seen a blast from the past.
“Jess. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and rolled down the window slightly. “No. But in a precarious situation, it seems.”
“Story of my life,” he muttered, but without the animosity she’d expected. He studied her then stepped back, gave the SUV a critical once-over, and reached out. “I’m going to open the door. When I do, the tires might slip. Your job is to have your seat belt off and be ready to jump, tumble or fly my way if the car moves. Got it?”
“But what if I make you fall and we both go over? Don’t we have enough bad history already, Shane?”
He pointed to the side of the road. “I’m tethered.” A wire cord went from his waist to the stump of a tree behind him. Above them, the lights of his pickup shone like beacons in the thickening snow. Another gust of wind raced down the mountain, twisting and turning the snow into less friendly conditions and she felt the force of the squall move the car, despite its being in Park with the emergency brake on. “I’d try to tow you, but there’s no traction above or below, so I don’t know what that would accomplish.”
Jump.
Into his arms.
Talk about a leap of faith.
She didn’t take time to think. Somehow she sensed that time wasn’t on her side. She nodded briskly. “Let’s do it.”
He reached for the door. The handle clicked. He paused, rolled his eyes and met her gaze. “Unlock it.”
Good grief. Where was her brain? She hit the switch and the lock clicked open. “Sorry, Shane.”
Sorry?
Now she was sorry?
Those words were about a quarter century too late, but this wasn’t the time to debate it because the next gust of wind might be enough to send the SUV over the edge. She couldn’t see how close it was from her vantage point.
He could.
Flashing lights crept toward them from below, but he didn’t dare wait for the volunteers. He understood thrust and weight and bearing and balance real well. They were huge components in good construction, and when Shane Stone built something, it was built to last.
But first he needed to save a life, it seemed. “Ready?”
Jess nodded.
“Go.” He pulled the door open. He tried to swing it gently, but when he felt the SUV begin to slip away from him, gentle went out the window. He reached for her and barked, “Grab on!”
She tried to. She reached for his arm but the door got in the way and her hand jerked free and, for a few lightning-flash seconds, he saw her slipping away from him, just out of reach. “No! Grab, Jess!” As he yelled, he reached in and grabbed her as she grabbed him.
The SUV wrenched backward just as the wind gusted again. There was no turning back now.
He pulled hard. The rearward thrust of the car sucked at them as the door tried to close.
He held tight. When she finally came free, the momentum of her leap and the energy of his pull tumbled them both onto the ice-slicked road. Behind them, the SUV slipped over the edge and tumbled end-over-end onto a pile of burned debris lodged about halfway down the incline. Far enough to total the car. Far enough to easily end a life.
“Oh my gosh. Shane. Are you all right? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to knock you over.”
They were tangled together, cold but safe on the roadway as the receding echoes of the crashing car sounded around them.
He looked up into the beautiful caramel-brown eyes he’d been drawn to all those years ago. Before she pointed the finger of blame at him. Before he’d been forced to serve time for a crime he hadn’t committed.
“You saved my life.”
He wanted to say, And you ruined mine, but then he locked eyes with her.
Still beautiful. Still haunted. Still tinged with a sadness he’d never understood because she’d had everything a kid could ever want. And yet the fixer in him had wanted to fix things for her way back then. And the moment their eyes met and held, he realized he’d probably do the same now.
“All in a day’s work,” he told her. He waited while she righted herself before he pushed to his feet. Then he reached down and gave her a hand up before he unclasped the tether. “You okay?”
“Yes. Thanks to you. Shane, I—”
“Spare me, Jess. I’m not here to walk down memory lane with you or anybody else. There’re folks here that need help. A lot of help. I’m here to do a job and happened to run into you along the way.”
Her eyes dimmed.
His fault.
But he understood his weakness for her. He’d have scoffed at that notion fifteen minutes ago, but he saw it now, plain as day.
She drew him. She’d done it back then. She did it now. But he wasn’t an eighteen-year-old any longer, from a law-breaking family. He was Shane Stone, owner and now CEO of Stonefield Construction, a highly regarded business in Chevy Chase, Maryland. He’d purposely stayed far away from Kendrick Creek, and yet he was back again because there were people here who needed his help. Needed him. Just like he’d needed them, years ago.
“I was just going to thank you, Shane.” Jess dusted the snow off her pants with ungloved hands.
She wasn’t wearing a coat. She’d probably taken it off to drive, which now meant her coat and gloves were down the cliff.
He pulled off his Carharrt and held it out. “Here. You’ll freeze.”
“I’m good, thanks. And again, thanks for the rescue. My mother was spared finding her only child at the base of a ravine, so I owe you big-time.”
She owed him nothing. And he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “Take the jacket, Jess. Please.”
She faced him now and he realized two things.
First, she’d only gotten more beautiful in the twenty-five years that had passed, with the light brown hair that matched her eyes, and her pale complexion.
Second, she was just as stubborn as she had been back then and was never, ever, going to take the jacket. Maybe because it came from him.
Or maybe just to prove that she was in charge back then and she was still in charge now.
Except she wasn’t.
He reached out, placed the thickly woven jacket over her shoulders and stood his ground. “I might be a jerk and an ex-con, but a good man doesn’t stand by and let a lady freeze.” He folded his arms but softened his gaze. Slightly. “I expect your mama is going to welcome you home.”
He didn’t wait for the rescue vehicles to make their last two hundred feet of the climb. He released the tether from the tree trunk, got into his truck, and eased down his side of the road, heading for town.
She was safe.
Help had arrived.
He had things to do.
As Shane passed the last of the emergency vehicles coming to her rescue, he knew that wasn’t why he’d left.
He’d left because seeing Jess and saving her life showed him that the last thing he wanted to do was leave her. That had been enough of a reason to make a quick getaway. He had his life. She had hers. And if he had his way, they were never going to meet again.
Except that he was overseeing the rebuild on her mother’s medical practice, and if Jess was here to help, that meant he’d be seeing her every single day. And that was way more than he’d bargained for when he headed south.
