Snowstorm Confessions

“I’ll do that as soon as I’m done with the deputy.”

Bri reached out and touched his arm. “Come by in a few days. Don’t leave him feeling cut out of the loop.”

Mike nodded. “I will. As soon as I know how the company wants to handle all this.”

“They really won’t transport him?”

Mike shook his head. “We’re all just widgets, ma’am. Every one of us can be replaced.”

She wondered if Mike knew how sour he sounded. She’d think about that later. She looked again at Luke. “I’m going to need some relief when I have to come back to work.”

“I’ll help,” Jan said. “My break is coming up soon.”

Bri would have been happier if someone else had offered, but she didn’t want to examine that too closely. Luke was a closed chapter, right?

Right.

* * *

By five that afternoon, Bri’s living room had been transformed. A hospital bed, complete with a frame-and-pulley system to keep Luke’s leg elevated, had been installed. She’d arranged it so he could see the television, and moved unnecessary items out of the way or into other rooms. Since he was going to have to get around in a wheelchair with his leg sticking straight out, at least for a while, she cleared pathways so he could get out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. Any way she looked at it, that part was not going to be easy.

“Bonehead,” she said aloud. “You should have just stayed in the hospital. Or paid someone to fly you out of here to somewhere else.”

Except she didn’t know where else he could go. The two of them had been orphans, their parents gone, no other family to speak of. It was either her living room or some rehab facility—and he was likely to need rehab eventually regardless. In the meantime, until the worst of the concussion passed, he couldn’t be trusted on his own or without continual observation. Nor was it as if there were some convalescent facility nearby he could transfer to. One of the downsides of truly being in the boonies.

She felt ticked at DEL for treating him this way, too. He’d been injured on the job. They should have been all over themselves trying to help instead of saying he could just stay put until he could travel by conventional means. It was as if he had become useless to them.

Then another thought struck her. Could he lose his job over this? She wouldn’t put it past them. A lot of these large companies looked at employees as interchangeable parts, as Mike had said. Lose one, find another.

Pulling on her jacket, she went outside to salt her porch, steps and sidewalk yet again. Not much longer now. She put the salt away in the plastic bin she kept on one corner of her porch and stood waiting. The past, she thought, was about to descend with a vengeance.

The ambulance appeared around the corner and pulled up in front of her house. She knew both the EMTs, of course. Tim and Ted. They joked that they were the “Tim and Ted Show,” and sometimes they lived up to that appellation with their zany humor and jokes. Today they were just looking busy and rushed.

She went down to them as they opened the back door of the vehicle, and saw Luke strapped into a wheelchair with his leg extended in front of him.

“Everything is not okay,” Ted muttered to her. “Loony tunes.”

“Concussion.”

He sighed. “I know that. I was just warning you. Sometimes he makes sense. Sometimes not so much.” He hopped up inside and passed down a couple of heavy plastic bags. “Supplies, meds and instructions, and his personal belongings,” he said by way of explanation. “Open the front door for us, will you?”

Except for a couple of groans when he was inadvertently jostled, Luke remained surprisingly quiet. Ted and Tim were sweethearts and helped Luke to the bathroom before lifting him onto the bed and helping to raise his leg.

Throughout, Luke groaned sometimes but didn’t complain. She gave him credit for that because he certainly had enough to complain about.

“Doc David said to tell you he had IV painkillers before he left the hospital. None of that stuff in the bag until around nine p.m.”

Then Ted paused. “You can’t do this alone.” He pulled out a card and scribbled on the back. “Our home phone numbers. You need anything at all, call. Did you get some stuff he can eat? Because we can run to the store or something.”

“I stocked up on broths and there are four milk shakes in the fridge.”

Ted nodded approval. “We’ll bring some more tomorrow.”

Then they zipped out with cheery goodbyes.

After she closed the door, Bri thought the house felt at once strangely full and strangely silent. As if something dark had entered.

Only her own past. Hooking her jacket onto the hall tree, she went into the living room to check on her patient. To her surprise, he was wide-awake and more like himself. His gaze was sharper, as if the world had once again come into focus for him.

“I’m sorry, Bri. I’m messing up your life.”

“That depends. If you behave yourself, no mess. How are you feeling?”

“Like I took a bad fall and broke too many things. I don’t know what they gave me for pain, but it almost feels like it’s a long way away.”

“Well, that’s good, anyway.” She pulled over the desk chair she had brought out here because it would be easy to roll around and sat beside him. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

“No.” He didn’t even try to shake his head. It probably felt as big as a pumpkin, she thought. “I know we were climbing around checking out sight lines and terrain. To build up there we’re going to have to do some blasting. The last thing I remember was walking along what looked like a level path. The snow wasn’t very deep. I guess it must have been slippery, though.” Lifting his good arm, he waved at himself, then winced slightly. “Damn, how long am I going to be like this?”

“It’s going to take a while,” she said honestly. “If you behave, you might get a walking cast in a week or two, but I don’t know. I’m not the doctor.”

“Hell.” He sighed and closed his eyes. The next thing she heard was a quiet snore.

She pulled the blanket up to protect him against drafts. Even with the heat on it was still cold enough at night that occasionally the chill wafted through the house like frigid fingers.

His being asleep gave her time, though, to go eat her own dinner. When she’d stopped for the milk shakes, she had bought herself one of Maude’s steak sandwiches and a salad, enough to keep her going for two days. She ate quickly, concerned about Luke in the next room, but she didn’t want him to wake and see her chowing down on real food. He had enough misery to contend with.

After she cleaned up, she went back to check on him. His eyes were open, and despite the red and rapidly purpling swelling that covered one whole side of his face, he managed a crooked smile. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Somebody had to do it. DEL apparently doesn’t think you’re worth bringing back.”

“Probably thinks I should have stayed in the hospital.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“Doesn’t suit me.”

“No kidding.” Once again she could almost see the humor in this, except there was absolutely nothing humorous about the injuries he had suffered. “Getting hungry?”

“A little.”

“Broth or milk shake?”

“Milk. Please.” At least that was what it had sounded like. So she brought him a milk shake and when she was sure he had a good grip on it, she sat again. “You want the TV?”

“Not really. Maybe later. I’m...having a little trouble following things.”

She could well believe it. The improvement since last night was huge, but he was going to take a while to come back fully. It was a good sign, however, that he recognized he was having a problem.

“Pretty, up there on the mountain,” he mumbled.

“It certainly is. I’m not sure I want to see it turned into a resort.”

“You and shum—somebody else.”

Her heart slammed. Had he remembered? “You think you were pushed?”

“Mike said.”

So he had heard what Mike said. Not exactly evidence of anything except that he now remembered something from this morning. Impulsively, she reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. Almost at once she snatched it back, shocked by the zing of attraction she felt for him. She knew his body intimately, and at this most inappropriate time, those memories seemed to want to come back. She had to force herself to remain professional when she had the worst urge to lean over him, kiss him and tell him everything would be okay. “Don’t worry about it. The important thing is to heal. Everything else can wait.”

“Never been a good waiter.” Then he dozed off again. She caught the milk shake as it began to tip from his hand and set it beside him on the adjustable table that had been brought with the bed.

Sitting back, she watched him, thinking about how fast her life had been turned on end, and what it might mean if he had been right about someone pushing him.

There were certainly people hereabouts who didn’t want to see anything change. They’d resisted the semiconductor plant and had celebrated when it shut down and the jobs went overseas. They barely tolerated the community college. Why would they ever want a big resort that would bring all kinds of strangers to the area?

But there were a lot more people who wanted jobs. Wanted some kind of economic infusion into this county. Ranching was no longer the big moneymaker it had once been, not since the commodities markets and ethanol had raised the cost of feed through the roof. A lot of them stuck it out, though, refusing to give up their way of life and land that their families had owned for generations. She watched them make all kinds of hard adjustments to survive.

But people in town were making the same adjustments. Church rummage sales were so well picked-over these days that there hardly seemed to be anything left for them. Nearly everyone dressed in secondhand clothes, pregnant women traded outfits, young mothers traded baby clothes, and even goods from China weren’t moving fast off the racks at Freitag’s Mercantile.

The place was fading, she thought sadly. Probably like a million other small rural communities. A ski resort could turn that around. It might not mean great jobs for the locals, but it would mean jobs. Business for the stores in town, as long as the resort didn’t supply everything. She needed to ask Luke about that.

But the entire character of the community would change, and she really couldn’t blame the folks who wanted to resist.

“Face-lift.”

The word startled her back to the present and she realized Luke was awake again. She put the milk shake back in his hand and he sipped on the straw.

“Good,” he said.

“I’m glad. Who needs a face-lift?”

For a moment he looked confused, then said, “The town.”

“Oh. I don’t know if people will like that. What kind of face-lift?”

“Paint. Brick sidewalks. Streetlights...”

Well, none of that sounded exactly awful, she thought. If that’s all that was involved. She waited, but his thoughts seemed to have drifted elsewhere.

“Great mountain,” he said, then resumed sipping. It appeared to be getting a little easier.

“I love those mountains. I don’t know if I want to see them shredded by ski runs.”

“Not visible.”

“What’s not visible?”

He sighed. “Not from down here.”

“Oh.” All of a sudden she wished it were easier for him to talk. She wanted to ask him all kinds of questions about what DEL intended to do up there.

“Hurts,” he said, this time sounding angry.

“Where?”

He just looked at her like, Isn’t it obvious?

She glanced at the clock. “It’s too soon for more pain meds, Luke. Another half hour. I guess you feel like you’re being hammered.”

“No joke.”

“Soon,” she assured him. “Very soon.”

He sighed, and his eyes closed as he drifted away, a result of the concussion most likely. Or maybe the remaining morphine in his system.

“I lost you,” he said, then passed out again.

“You threw me away,” she answered quietly. The real pain in her heart that had never gone away, the certainty that he had thrown her away. She was glad he didn’t hear her.

Chapter 3

Bri spent the night on the couch in the living room in case Luke needed something. He was able to tend to his most personal needs, so she didn’t have to manhandle him down the hall to the bathroom, a relief. She had no doubt she could have done it, but it wouldn’t have been fun for either of them.

By morning, though, a thought had occurred to her. She needed to look after the man for at least a week, maybe longer, depending on how soon he could travel. His cast went from his ankle to above his knee, which meant that wasn’t likely to be soon.

With a sigh, she picked up the phone and called Jack. “I need a safety bar in my bathroom,” she told him. “Can you do that?”

“Sure,” came the prompt response. “When do you want it?”

“As soon as possible. Thanks, Jack. You’re a good guy.”

“Always glad to help,” he responded cheerfully.

And he was a cheerful person. He worked at the hardware store, but picked up side jobs as a handyman. She’d lost count of the times he’d helped her out with something.

She tried making some very soft scrambled eggs for Luke. The man needed something for subsistence besides broth and milk shakes.

He was wide awake when she carried the bowl and spoon into the living room. “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning.” He looked at the bowl.

“Scrambled eggs,” she explained. “No chewing. How’s that jaw feel?”

“Better.”

She supposed that was debatable. It didn’t look any less swollen, but maybe it was on the inside. “Time for your pain pill, too. Water?”

“Please.”

“You want to try to feed yourself?”

“Yeah.”

So she raised the head of his bed, pulled the table over, adjusting its height, and left him to it while she went to get him a glass of water with a straw.

When she came back, he’d already put away half the eggs. “Good,” he said, with what appeared to be an attempt at a smile.

“More where those came from. Just let me know.”

He managed to get the pill down, too. “Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

She hesitated. “I’ll have to cool it down. I don’t know how lacerated the inside of your cheek is, either. It might really sting.”

“Coffee,” he repeated. “Please.”

Puppy-dog eyes, she thought. When had Luke learned to make puppy-dog eyes? Damn, he was tugging her heart strings.

At least she had plastic straws. “Iced coffee,” she suggested. “You have to drink through a straw right now.” She wondered if he had any idea of how much egg he had on his face right now. Probably not. She grabbed a napkin and wiped it gently away.

“Won’t always be like this,” he said.

She wondered if that was a promise or a threat. “No, you’re getting better. I’ll get that coffee.”

She made the iced coffee in a plastic cup, then froze. He must need a sponge bath by now. Oh, wasn’t that going to be fun. But it needed to be done before she changed his sheets.

She didn’t want to do it. She could do it for any patient without a second thought, but this was different. This was a body she had once loved and made love with. Awkward. Awful. She closed her eyes a moment, resisting the idea but knowing it was important for his comfort, if not for his health. He was beginning to get a little ripe.

Oh, hell. She carried the coffee back to him and found he’d nearly finished the eggs. She had to wipe his face again.

He enjoyed the coffee, though, and it didn’t seem to cause him too much discomfort. Of course the pill was probably starting to kick in. Maybe it would make him safely woozy for a sponge bath.

“More eggs?” she asked.

“Not now. Later. Thanks.”

She sat sipping her own mug of coffee, waiting for him to start looking a bit drowsy. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be happening.

“How are you feeling?”

“Been through a cement mixer.”

“I imagine it feels that way. Listen, I need to change your bedding, and your gown. I want to do it when the pain pill is working its strongest.”

“’Kay.”

“But...” She bit her lower lip. “I need to give you a sponge bath, too. Will you cooperate?”

Damn him, she thought she saw a wicked twinkle in those gray eyes. “Never thought you’d ask.”

“Damn you, Luke, don’t be a pain. I’ve got to move you around. Clean sheets. Clean body, clean gown. No bedsores on my watch. That’s the beginning and end of it.”

“Yes, Nurse.” But that twinkle seemed to remain. If the rest of his face had been more mobile, the expression probably would have been all over it.

“Luke...”

“I’ll...be good.”

As if he could do much else, she thought irritably. Why was she even bothered by this? Right now he was a helpless slab of meat with a devilish look in his eyes. She’d seen that from eighty-year-olds...although they tried to have the male nurses take care of these things.

“I could call a man to do it.”

“Said I’d be good.” He set the coffee on the table. “What am I gonna do?”

Exactly, she thought. He was utterly helpless, which gave her a momentary flash of pleasure. Luke had never been helpless. Never. Her mind suddenly served up a smorgasbord of the ways she could tease him with a sponge bath, drive him out of his mind the way he had so often driven her. Turn him into a helpless sex slave. The image amused her so much that she was able to laugh at herself, even as heat blossomed between her legs.

The knock on the door surprised her. She wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour, but there was Jack, safety bar and tool kit in hand.

“That was quick,” she said.

He shrugged and gave her a shy smile. “I heard about the guy. Didn’t figure it could wait long.”

“I really appreciate this,” she assured him as she let him in.

“Why do you have to take care of him?” Jack asked as he headed down the hallway to the bathroom. She wasn’t surprised he knew where it was since he’d replaced the tile for her last year.

“Do you see a convalescent home within a few hundred miles? He can’t be moved yet.”

“So how’d you get to be it?”

Good question, she thought. “Because I’m a sucker?”

He astonished her by turning sharply, looking angry. “Don’t say things like that about yourself. You’re a nice lady.”

His vehemence surprised her so much that she nearly stepped back. Jack usually seemed so calm and pleasant. But then his face smoothed and he shifted the bar so he could enter the bathroom.

“I used to know Luke,” she said finally. “It seemed like the right thing to do for a friend.”

“Like I said, you’re a nice lady. Where you want this bar? By the commode or in the shower?”

“He won’t be taking showers while he’s here. Just by the commode. To help him move in and out of the wheelchair.”

“He’s pretty messed up?”

“Seriously messed up.”

“Too bad. This won’t take long.”

She was glad, actually glad, to head back to Luke. Something about Jack disturbed her this morning. He didn’t seem quite like himself. But then everything in her life felt strange right now, so why should Jack be any different?

Luke had finished the iced coffee and asked for more when she got back. At the moment she was glad just to be busy. Everything was off-kilter, and ordinary tasks suddenly felt like a lifeline to sanity.

Luke was back in her life, however temporarily; Jack seemed weird; and God knew she didn’t feel at all like herself.

Jack finished up in about twenty minutes. He had her test the bar to her own satisfaction, leaning her full weight on it.

“Great job,” she told him.

He smiled shyly. “It’s easy.”

“Maybe for you.”

That made him beam. “You got a vacuum? I’ll get up the dust.”

“I can take care of it. The store must need you back.” And she needed him out of here, though she wasn’t sure why. Ordinarily she didn’t mind having Jack around when he was doing a job for her, but today...today something was different.

He looked surprised but finished packing his tools and headed out. She’d get a bill from the store at the end of the month, so he didn’t have to even pause for payment. She was relieved to close the door behind him.

“What was that?” Luke asked.

“My handyman, Jack. I had him put a safety bar in the bathroom for you.”

“Sorry. Sorry for imposing. Causing trouble.”

“It’s not your fault.” She could say that much with truth. And at least he seemed to be growing steadily more coherent. Maybe there wouldn’t be any long-term effects from the concussion. God, she hoped not. Mild concussions had been known to mess people up for years or longer.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Luke? Have you worked with Mike Hanson for long?”

“Five, six years. Why?”

“I just wondered.” Because he’d been the only other person out there when Luke fell, and Luke had initially claimed he’d been pushed. “Do you remember any more about what happened?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s common enough, to forget what happened right before.”

“I hear. I guess I stirred up a mess of trouble, saying I was pushed. Wonder where that came from.”

“The concussion,” she said with more surety than she felt. “People can say and do a lot of crazy things.”

“How do you know what’s real?”

She managed a smile for him. “By what doesn’t change.”

“Not true,” he said, his face drooping. “Life changes. All the time.”

“You’re right. It does.” And sometimes that was its saddest part.

* * *

Changing the sheets and sponging him down didn’t prove that difficult physically, but for her it was sheer hell psychologically. She lowered his leg so she could roll him onto his side and sponge his back. She didn’t care if the sheets got damp, but beneath them was a foam pad, what they sometimes called an egg crate, to help prevent pressure sores. That definitely couldn’t get wet.

So she pulled out a rubber sheet, and once she had carefully rolled him to the side, she tucked it beneath him to catch any water. It was then she saw all the bruises that covered his back. She couldn’t withhold a sound of distress.

“What’s wrong?” He was starting to sound pretty groggy from the pain pill.

“Your back is a mess. You must have rolled when you tumbled. Just bruises. Let me know if I hurt you.”

“You already did that,” he muttered.

She had to resist an urge to snap at him, especially since she was sure he wouldn’t have said it at all if he weren’t full of drugs and concussed. Luke had never been a man to show weakness of any kind. Initially she had admired that in him. Now she wondered.

Wringing out a cloth, she began to wash him from his neck down, baring only small parts of his body to prevent him from growing chilled.

“Feels good,” he mumbled.

“As long as the water stays warm,” she answered. Maybe she should have gotten a heating pad to put beneath the bowl. Or she could just hurry.

She had to be gentle, not wanting to hurt him, but she hoped the rubbing of the terry cloth would stimulate circulation. And instead of going fast, she lingered. It had been years since she had run her hands over this muscled back, but time hadn’t diminished the impact anyway. He was a beautifully built man, sculpted by years of physical labor, without a spare ounce of flesh on him. She knew she wasn’t maintaining proper clinical detachment, but she figured that was a lost cause under the circumstances.

“Feels good,” he mumbled again, drowsily.

To her, too. She worked her way down slowly, relearning every line of him, lingering more than she should have. Her breath quickened, and she felt stupid for it. This man hadn’t wanted her, and anyway, even if he had he was out of action.