Amish Redemption (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy) (5 page)

Rachel looked up at her mother with sheer joy. 
“Kitty!”

Rebekah slowly exhaled.  “Rachel, we’ve got to go now.  Put the kitty down
.”  Then she hesitated.  What if the animal was rabid?  Skunks didn’t customarily allow children to come pick them up.  She scrutinized this one carefully, without moving.  There was no discharge from its mouth or otherwise.  This didn’t mean that it wasn’t ill, however.  Panic began to build in her again.

Rachel patted the animal’s striped back. 
“Pretty kitty!”  She was bending down to—
oh no!—
kiss the skunk’s head.

“Rachel, don’t kiss the kitty.”  Rebekah made her voice sharp.  The child looked up at her, confused. 
Maybe if I approach slowly and quietly, I can shoo the skunk off of her.  No, wait a minute, what if it bites her?

Footsteps thundered up behind her.  It was Nick, rushing forward to see what she had found.

She felt it before she smelled it.  A thousand tiny needles were puncturing her eyes, nose and throat.  The smell of putrid lemons filled her nostrils and mouth.  Rachel began to cry.  Painful tears streaming down her face, Rebekah looked for the cause of her daughter’s complaint and saw no blood or bite.  Instead, Rachel pointed to the skunk that was, in all good sense, ambling off.

“Kitty
go away!”

Behind her, Nick was gagging.  Despite the severe irritation of the skunk’s spray, Rebekah could not repress a chuckle.  That was followed by g
iggles, and then gales of laughter poured out of her.  She looked at Nick, who had quit choking and was now gawking at her like she was insane.

“What is so funny?” 

Tears of merriment coursed down her cheeks.  “It’s just that—”  She was beset by another fit of giggles.  “We were so
worried
.  We just knew she had drowned and here she was the whole time, playing with a skunk like it was a cat!”

Nick
afforded a laugh at that, then more.  She joined him and the more they laughed, the more amusing the situation became, except to poor Rachel, who howled crossly because her kitty had run away. 

Nick scooped up their daughter and kissed her.  Rachel wrinkled her nose against the smell of him.  Apparently the skunk had directional spraying abilities.  Rebekah was glad that
Rachel didn’t get caught in the blast.  She would be miserable if she had.

They gathered up their things along the edge of the field and walked back to their vehicle.  Nick buckled Rachel securely into her c
ar seat in the van while Rebekah found a snack in her diaper bag to soothe her while they drove home. 

“I wonder how we are going to get rid of this
stench.  Tomato juice?” 

Rebekah said thoughtfully, “I heard that
Massengil women’s soap was a good way to get rid of it.”

“No!”  Nick started to laugh again.  He started the van and put on the lights.  Daylight was fading
quickly.  Rebekah looked at the dashboard clock.  8:00 pm, it read.  She hadn’t realized that they had spent so much time looking for Rachel.  No wonder the baby was grumpy.  It was past her bedtime.  She would undoubtedly fall asleep on the ride home.

I might fall asleep on the way home
, too. 
With the crisis of losing Rachel being over, Rebekah felt an overall exhaustion and deep ache in her left knee from having fallen.  Nick was humming as he drove and she began to nod off.  She thought—or was it a dream?—that Nick was singing the song about coming undone, the Duran Duran song he had sung to her after they had once made love two years ago. 

She drifted
back into consciousness just in time to see a large pickup truck that was hurtling towards them swerve out of control and jump into their lane.  Its speed did not allow her to think about what was happening.  She barely had time to feel fear.  She did not even have time to cry out or brace for impact.

             
Her world exploded around her, sending lightening blasts of pain through her.  A swift jolt slapped her chest as the airbag deployed and she felt a sense of imbalance accompanied by tremendous jarring and realized the van was rolling downhill.  Sharp agony struck her left leg and chest and then darkness was all around. 

             
Awareness seeped back in thickly as Rebekah became cognizant of Rachel screeching from the second seat.  She was almost drowned out by the continuous blare of the van’s horn. Vertigo overtook her and she realized that the van was upended, lying on the driver side.  Unbuckling her seatbelt, she tried to unsuccessfully break her fall against Nick’s seat.  She landed against him with a sickening thud.  Her breathing came in jagged spurts.  Nick made no sound at all. 

             
“Honey?”  Her throat was only capable of producing raspy, guttural sounds.  There was no answer.  She strained to see him in the darkness of the van.  Rebekah placed a tentative hand on his chest.  His chest rose and fell almost unperceptively.  Relief flooded her and she turned her attention to Rachel.  She twisted her body to crawl into the second seat and raw torment from her left leg prevented her movement.  She tried to advance it and found it would not move of its own volition.  She willed her right one to move and it obeyed.  With shaking hands, she clutched her left knee and pulled upward while bracing her left foot against her seat in effort to propel herself back towards her child.  The extreme pain caused bile to rise up in her throat.  She stopped for a half second to breathe a short agonizing breath before pushing forward. 

             
Grasping and clawing, she brought herself astride where Rachel was.  She reached over to the side to switch the dome light on.  Miraculously, it worked.  Rachel was still strapped in her car seat.  Rebekah searched for injury and found none visible. 
She must be scared out of her mind. 
Rebekah wished she could turn off that damned horn.  Unbuckling the child, she took her in her arms to comfort her, avoiding as much as possible the painful areas of her left leg and chest.  Rachel continued to howl.  Acting on some ineffable mothering instinct, she unbuttoned the front of her dress and gave the girl her breast.   Although she had not breastfed Rachel for the better part of a year, natural impulse took over for them both: to comfort and be comforted. 

             
Soon, Rachel pulled away from her, mollified and wide-eyed. 

             
“It’s okay,” Rebekah told her.  “You stay right here.  I’m going to check on Daddy.”  Rachel stared at her.  “I’ll be right back,” said Rebekah.

             
She struggled back to the front of the van. Arriving there, she was instantly made nauseous by what she saw.  Where Nick’s legs should have been was a twist of metal chunks.  His body, from where the van ate into his thighs to his chest, was soaked deep red.  It was hard to tell which one of the legs was affected.  It appeared to be both.  He lay silent and frighteningly still.

             
“Nick!”

             
A groan tore from his lips. 

             
“Nick!” 
Oh my God, no! 
She must get help, she knew, but how? Trying not to touch him too much, she searched the pocket of his shirt for the cell phone.  Empty. 
Of course it is empty
; she was suddenly cross with herself, as if it were her fault that the phone wasn’t in his pocket. 
We’ve been rolling around in the van. 
She looked around on the driver’s side of the van and saw no phone, only dark pools of Nick’s blood collecting around his body.  She was grief-stricken.  Nick was dying, she was certain.  He was bleeding to death in their van and she couldn’t do anything to help him because she couldn’t find the phone.  She considered crawling up to where the road was to try to flag a car down, but knew without a doubt Nick would be dead long before she got there.

             
“Nick.”  It was a strangled sound.  She had never felt so alone, so helpless.  Tears stung her eyes as she fumbled about, searching for the damned phone.

             
“Wha . . . you want?”  His words were almost unintelligible. 

             
Rebekah was jubilant.  He had responded to her!  She suddenly felt she could do this; she could save him.

             
“Nick,” she hissed urgently.  “Where is the phone?”  The words were out before she could stop them.  It made no sense asking him, she knew.  He was not even quite conscious.

             
“In . . . my pocket,” he said with great effort.  It was hard to hear him over the sound of the horn.

             
“No, I looked there.”  She instantly felt dismal again.

             
“In . . . my pants pocket.”  She recollected them sweeping their belongings up swiftly.  Was it possible?

             
She patted his right thigh, and then his left, before she found the bulge that was the phone.  Reaching across him, she stuffed her hand down his pocket.  Inside was much warm, slippery liquid she knew to be his blood.  She persisted inward and was able to touch the phone’s edge.  Loathe to move him much, she found that she had to unbuckle his seat belt to allow her hand to fit more deeply inside his pocket.  He groaned loudly.

             
“I’m sorry,” she said.  He didn’t answer.  Her own pain forgotten, she plunged her hand into his pocket, grappling with the phone.  Gripping her fingers tightly around it, she pulled it free.  She wiped the blood off on the front of her dress and punched in 911 Send.

             
“911 Operator.  Please state the nature of your emergency.”

             
Rebekah wanted to cry with relief.  Help would come.  They would save Nick and it would all be alright.  “We’ve been in an accident.  Nick’s bleeding real bad. You’ve got to come now.”

             
“What is your location?”

             
Where are we?
  She had been almost asleep when the vehicles collided.  It had been dusky and she had just made out the outline of the truck before it hit them.  Did she see a road sign?  Then she remembered.

“We’re on Highway A, around . . . Mount
Moriah.  We are off the road.  Down the hill.  I don’t know where exactly.” 

             
“What was the nature of the accident?”

             
Rebekah was getting impatient with all the questions.  The operator needed to shut up and send an ambulance right now.  “A truck hit our van!”

             
“What is your name?”

             
Nick moaned once more.  His face was contorting in pain. 

             
“Rebekah Yoder,” she answered. 
Rebekah Collins
, she wanted to say.  “Are you coming?”

             
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sending a unit now.  Who is injured?”

             
Nick gasped.  “Becca.”

             
Without thinking, she pushed the “end” button on the phone and tossed it aside.  He had her full attention.  “Nick?”

             
“Rachel?”

             
“She’s just fine.”

             
“Becca . . . hold me.”

             
She hesitated.  “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

             
He laughed a harsh, mirthless sound.  “I can’t hurt any worse.  I need you . . . to hold me.”  The last three words were very quiet.  Rebekah wondered if he had lost consciousness again.

             
“Nick?”

             
“Yeah . . . ?”

             
She maneuvered gingerly around his broken body, bracing herself with her left arm against his seat so as to not put her entire weight on him.  Placing her head on his chest, she wrapped her right arm around his waist.  Hot liquid coursed down her arm and she realized the man she loved was bleeding to death.  Paying no heed to his blood-soaked shirt against her face, she kept her ear over his heart.

             
Nick. 
Sobs welling up within her, she shook in anguish. 
You can’t die.  Rachel is a huge part of my life but you
are
my life.  Without you, I don’t know if I can exist. 
Nick took his bloody left arm and wrapped it around her.

             
“Don’t cry, little girl,” he said. 
Like I was a child
, she thought.  He was always trying to comfort her. 
That’s just who he is.  He’s Nick, my Nick.  And now he’s dying. 
He was quiet for a long time.  She leaned against him delicately, listening to the heartening sound of his heartbeat, straining to hear the sound of sirens signifying his rescue. 

             
He stirred.  “Becca, I love you.”  His voice was a hoarse whisper.

             
“Nick, I love you, too.  Stay with me, okay?”

             
“I’ll always be with you.”  His voice was falling even fainter.  Over the incessant blare of the horn, Rebekah could hear the far-off scream of the ambulance and began praying with everything within her. 
Have them get here fast.
 
Please God, don’t take him.  Don’t take my Nick.

             
“Of course you will,” she said. 

             
Silence.  Rebekah shut her eyes. 
Please, God.
  The thumping in his chest had slowed considerably.

He stirred once more.  “I love you,
Becca,” he said again.  His arm that was holding onto her fell limply.

The sound of the sirens screeched louder. 

“Nick, they’re almost here.  So hang on, okay?  I love you so much.  Just hang on for me.”  He did not answer her.  She hugged him tighter. “Please,” she begged.

He did not answer.  He could not answer.

She lay with her head against him, listening, pleading, and crying long after that final moment when Nick’s chest went utterly still.