An Accidental Hero (11 page)

Mad as a wet hen, but healthy as a horse, she
thought. Odd, but Dr. Lucas hadn’t warned her that thinking in clichés was a result of miscarriage.

There, she’d said it again. And she hadn’t fallen apart saying it. Trick is, she realized, not to avoid it, but to say it over and over and over.
Miscarriage, miscarriage, miscarriage…

Nope. That wasn’t going to work. And the proof was the hard knot that had formed in her throat.

“Cammi?”

She took a sip of water. “I’m here.”

“I sure would like to see you.”

You would? But why?

“Soon as you’re up to it, I want to take you to dinner. Someplace nice, where we can talk.”

It was too soon after Rusty’s demise to think of it as an official date. And her father had flat-out forbidden her to see Reid—romantically, she presumed. But there was no reason under the sun they couldn’t be friends, right?

“Tell you what,” Reid was saying. “When you’re feeling better, give me a call and we’ll set it up.”

He’d been so easy to lean on yesterday. If only he knew how easy.

“Cammi?”

“Sorry,” she said, free hand rubbing her temple. “Sounds like a plan to me.” She couldn’t imagine calling him to “set things up,” but being rude to the guy hardly seemed necessary. Like Lily said, time would pass, and as it did, Reid would forget he’d made the offer.

“Talk to you soon, then?”

“Yeah, soon.”

Not,
she thought, hanging up. Reid was a great guy.
Too great. In just a few days, he’d succeeded in making her fall for him, like some silly schoolgirl with a crush on her high school’s quarterback. Well, she was too old and too wise to go down that road again. If Rusty hadn’t taught her anything else, he’d taught her that!

Suddenly, Cammi felt sleepy again. Lying back among the pillows Lamont had brought her, she closed her eyes.

And despite all her tough talk, Reid’s handsome face carried her off to dreamland, where they sat side by side on a wide, covered porch, rocking a child in the cradle between them….

That evening Reid lay on his back, fingers linked behind his neck, staring at the shadowy blades of the ceiling fan above his head. Something hadn’t set well with him about that phone call to Cammi. He’d come to expect a certain melodious quality to play in her voice. Surely everything that had happened would tone the music down some—but that much?

He’d been tossing and turning for hours now, wondering about it. Had he been wrong about her being spunky and tough? Was she an average woman, after all, with no special ability to roll with the punches, take life on the chin? He didn’t think so. He’d met her under nerve-racking circumstances, and if what she’d gone through earlier didn’t count as “stressful,” Reid didn’t know what did.

It was that reference to God, more than anything else, that got him to wondering, because she’d seemed to him a rock-solid believer, a live-life-by-the-Good-Book kind of gal. He felt that way in part because
she’d said things like “I’ll pray for Billy” and “Pray with me, Reid,” and in part because he didn’t think a person was born resilient, and Cammi was one of the most iron-willed people he’d ever met. Stuff like that didn’t fall out of the sky; it was built into a body by dint of hard work, and prayer, and, yes, faith.

Hearing her talk like that about the Almighty, well, it rattled him.
He
didn’t have faith because God had never answered a single prayer he’d prayed. Maybe, like one of the Old Testament verses said, he was paying for the sins of his parents, neither of whom had lived a model Christian life. And maybe, he simply hadn’t earned God’s attention. Cammi, on the other hand,
had
earned it. Virtue all but glowed in her big brown eyes. He took comfort in the fact that people like Martina and Billy—and Cammi—had developed lasting relationships with the Almighty; it gave him hope that someday, if he kept his nose to the grindstone long enough, even the likes of him could have God’s ear!

Besides, Cammi seemed to take such comfort from believing the Lord actually listened to her prayers. That knowledge gave her the confidence to be wide open and accepting, to be fearless. It’s what made her happier, more grounded than most, and—

At a horrible thought, Reid sat upright in bed. Now that she’d put his name together with the rodeo, could she have found out what kind of life he’d led on the circuit? Had she seen him for the many-flawed man that he was? Had she judged him too big a sinner to be worthy of her time?

No, Cammi didn’t strike him as self-righteous. He’d only known her for a few days, but Reid already
felt as if he knew her well. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, he thought, Cammi was good to the bone. And he ought to know; he’d spent hours looking into those chocolate-brown eyes. Even now, the memory of them made his stomach flip.

Something else had to explain her mood….

Then he remembered the despair that drove many a good mare mad. Depression would explain the dullness in her voice, explain her anger at God, too. And who had more reason to slump into a blue mood than Cammi, who’d so recently become a widow, who’d just lost her first child?

On his feet now, Reid began pacing. He kept it up for a minute or two, then stopped midstep. Hadn’t she said the doctor ordered a week’s worth of R and R? And hadn’t she told him “no stairs allowed”?

Reid got dressed in the dark and hurried down the stairs, carrying his boots in one hand, his Stetson in the other. In the kitchen, he dashed off a quick note to let Martina and Billy know where they could find him—and headed for River Valley Ranch.

R
eid pressed his forehead to a pane in the French doors and watched as Cammi put down her magazine and grabbed the remote. She wore a white terry-cloth robe with bright blue butterflies on the pockets, and slippers to match. He smiled, thinking she looked adorable with her thick dark hair gathered up in a swingy ponytail—like a high school girl at a slumber party.

She flicked through the stations twice before settling on a black-and-white movie featuring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. Strange, Reid thought, how he’d seen five minutes of that film here, ten minutes there, without ever watching it from beginning to end. He was wondering if Cammi would settle in to enjoy the whole thing, when she lifted her arms overhead and stretched, reminding him of the cougar he’d seen while traveling with the rodeo, its sleek, well-toned body reaching high on the trunk of a scrub pine to work out the kinks in its back and signal com
petitors that she was a beast to be reckoned with. It was quite a sight to behold. And
Cammi
was a sight to behold, too.

The day before, they’d shared something few people have, something that forever changed their relationship from whatever it
had been
to… He shrugged. He didn’t know how to define what they’d been, what they were now to one another, but he knew this: He wanted her in his life from now on.

Woolgathering like that had been what prompted him to get out of bed, throw on some clothes and head to River Valley Ranch in the middle of the night. During the drive over, he’d argued with himself: Would he be sorry for dropping by unannounced? Or would things turn out as he hoped? Well, he was here now, gawking into her den like a peeping Tom; might as well go for broke, find out once and for all what they meant to each other.

Not wanting to scare her, Reid pecked his fingernails lightly on the glass. Immediately, she hit the remote’s mute button and sat up, searching out the source of the sound. After a second or two, she looked over her shoulder and directly at him. Or so it seemed. He shivered involuntarily, though he knew she couldn’t possibly see him with the backdrop of night having turned the interior windows into black mirrors.

“You really
are
obnoxious,” she said, flinging the door open.

“Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Cammi tightened the belt of her robe, tugged at its wide collar. “I thought you were the dog.”

“You wouldn’t be the first li’l gal to call me that,” he said, grinning.

Apparently, Cammi didn’t appreciate his middle-of-the-night attempt at humor. She stared hard at him for a long moment. “How long have you been out there?” she said at last.

“Minute or two, I reckon.” He rubbed his hands together. “Mind if I come in, take the chill off?”

She hesitated, then nodded, and Reid stepped inside. It didn’t escape his notice that, before closing the door behind him, she checked the mantel clock. He was wondering how long it would be before she mentioned the time as she perched on the sofa arm.

“Whatever were you thinking, coming here at this hour?”

He felt even more ridiculous now than he had standing on the deck, staring through the slats in the window blinds. “I, uh…” Reid held out his hands, palms up. “I needed to see for myself that you were okay.” He could have said concern for her had kept Cammi on his mind since he’d left the hospital, but the truth was, she’d dominated his thoughts from the moment she’d plowed into him in front of Georgia’s Diner.

“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin to add, “Wasn’t expecting company at this hour, but…”

Then she pursed her lips, and he read it as a sign she didn’t want to talk about the miscarriage. At least, not here and now. Best way he knew to change the subject was with small talk, but he’d never been much good at that. “Nice place,” he said, nodding as he glanced around.

He expected her to agree, to point out one of the
den’s burled-wood antiques, or the massive stone fireplace that dominated an entire wall. Instead, she stood and said, “I was just about to fix myself a cup of tea.”

She hadn’t invited him to join her, he noted. Just as well, because her doctor had ordered her some serious R and R. “I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy.”

Laughing softly, Cammi gestured for him to follow. “Brewing tea isn’t exactly heavy labor,” she said, padding down a long hall toward the kitchen. She flipped a switch, flooding the room with a pale yellow light. “Regular or herbal?” she added, firing up the teakettle.

He’d lap water from a mud puddle if it allowed him to spend a few more minutes in her company. “Regular. But only if you let me—”

She shot him a you-must-be-kidding look and grabbed two mugs from an overhead cabinet. “Thanks, but since I know where things are, it makes more sense if I do it myself.”

Nodding, Reid sat at the white-tiled table and hung an arm over the back of a ladder-backed chair. “Where’s your father?”

“Upstairs, asleep.”

He’d decided halfway between the Rockin’ C and River Valley that not even the risk of a confrontation with Lamont London could keep him away. Memories of that night in the E.R. still echoed loudly in his head, almost as loudly as they had in his dreams. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t have to worry about that tonight. At least, he hoped not. “You’re not afraid all this gabbing will wake him?”

She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “You’re safe….” Grinning mischievously, Cammi tilted her head. “Unless you do something to make me scream.”

He’d cut off his own arm before doing anything that would frighten or hurt her! “Don’t worry,” he said, laughing. “I might be obnoxious, but I’m not dangerous.”

She winced at the reminder she’d called him a dog. “Sorry about that,” Cammi said, filling their mugs with steaming water. After dropping tea bags into each, she added, “I honestly thought you were Dad’s dog…and he really did name the pup Obnoxious, by the way.”

It surprised him to learn that Lamont had a sense of humor.

She handed him a mug and a spoon, then pointed out the sugar bowl, nestled on a lazy Susan amid napkins, salt and pepper shakers, Tabasco and steak sauce. “Milk?”

“Nah. I’m a high-test man, all the way.”

“I like my coffee black, but put sugar in my tea.” She shrugged. “Don’t know why.”

“Why do you need a reason?”

She studied his face, and he squirmed a bit under her scrutiny. “Dunno,” she said after a bit.

Time to change the subject…again. “So, how’re you feeling?”

“Deja vu?”

Her answer didn’t make a lick of sense, and he said so.

She said, “You asked me that in the den.”

She looked adorable, standing there frowning, arms
crossed over her chest, tiny slippered foot tapping on the shiny linoleum. “Guess I did, at that.” He took a gulp of tea and decided not to take her bad-tempered mood personally. She’d been through a lot these past few days…these past few
months.
“No need to apologize for bein’ cranky. I understand perfectly what—”

Eyes wide, she gasped. “Cranky?”

If he’d given it a minute’s thought, he could’ve chosen a better word. “Well, not
cranky,
exactly,” he began. “Maybe just—”

Clucking her tongue, Cammi rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I sounded so…so…prickly.”

“I’m sure if I came callin’ at a respectable hour, you’d be your usual good-spirited self.”

“So how’s your father figure-slash-mentor-slash-boss?”

He had to hand it to her; she’d changed the subject far more smoothly than he had. Pity was, she’d chosen a subject he’d just as soon avoid. It was hard enough knowing Billy wouldn’t be with them much longer, without being asked to admit it out loud. “Poorly, to put it mildly.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

And he knew she meant it because sympathy glowed in her dark eyes, echoed in her voice. Reid could have kissed her for that.
All in good time,
he cautioned.

“At first, the docs thought it would take a couple of years for the ALS to…” He couldn’t bring himself to say
kill him.
“Billy’s provin’ ’em wrong at every turn, ’cause every day, he’s twice as bad as the day before.”

“Before I left for the rodeo circuit, I used to see him and Martina fairly often at church services and socials. The kids used to call him Gentle Ben, because hard as he tried to act like a tough old bird, he could never quite pull it off. The things he did for the Children’s Center are proof he has a heart even bigger than the Rockin’ C.” Cammi shook her head and sighed. “How’s he handling it?”

He remembered how, not so long ago, Billy could heft bales of hay and bags of feed as if they’d been featherlight. And if Reid had trouble watching him struggle with even the simplest tasks like buttoning his shirt and feeding himself, how much harder must it be for the once-proud and self-sufficient Billy?

“He’s doing okay, I reckon, all things considered.” Reid ran a fingertip around the rim of his mug. “He wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but he’s scared.”

“And who can blame him?”

“Wish there was something I could do to make life more bearable for him, until…” Though he suspected the end wasn’t all that far off, Reid couldn’t finish the sentence.

Cammi blinked, sandwiching his hand between her own. “You’re already doing it, just by being there for him when he needs you.”

She withdrew her hand and stirred her tea. “Must be awfully hard on Martina, too. Those two are like newlyweds, even after all these years together.”

My, but she had gorgeous eyes, especially when they got all misty that way. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Something tells me I couldn’t stop you if I tried.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. He loved her sense
of humor, her tendency to put aside her own troubles to focus on the needs of others. There she sat, newly widowed and recuperating from a miscarriage, sincerely concerned about Billy and Martina. “You’re something else, Cammi Carlisle, you know that?”

She wrapped both hands around her cup. Did she realize that when she looked down that way, her eyelashes hid the entire top half of her cheek? Or that when she bobbed her head in response to a compliment, it only made him want to pay her another?

The truth started spilling out, things he’d been thinking since the moment they’d met. “Seems I’ve known you my whole life, as if you’ve been here, right beside me, for decades. Now tell me, does that make a lick of sense?”

’Course it didn’t make sense. Nothing did anymore. Take, for example, the way he couldn’t seem to keep his big yap shut in her presence.

She grinned, exposing a deep dimple in her right cheek. Funny, why hadn’t he noticed it before? He suppressed an urge to touch it.

“You’re pretty easy to be around, too,” she said.

Not exactly the response he’d hoped for, but it would do…for now. “So, can I ask you a question?”

“I thought you just did.”

He mirrored her grin. “All right, so let me ask another one, then.”

She tilted her head, waiting.

“Do you miss him much?”

Again with the big blinkin’ brown eyes! If she kept that up, he wouldn’t have any choice but to go over there, take her in his arms and—

“Who?”

“Your husband.”

Frowning now, Cammi stared at the tabletop again. “I’d rather not talk about Rusty.”

Rusty. Moronic name for a grown man, Reid thought. But what he said was “Still hurts pretty bad, huh?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Only my ego.”

He didn’t understand, and said so.

“I guess I didn’t tell you that Rusty died behind the wheel of a vintage convertible…with a blond starlet at his side. They’d been drinking and carousing for days. Who knows where they were headed when he lost control of the car?” She sighed. “Steering column impaled him, and the impact threw his date forty feet from the car. Last I heard, she was still in traction.”

She tried to sound so matter-of-fact, so distanced, so emotionless. But she hadn’t fooled him; the facts surrounding the accident had hurt her almost as much as losing Rusty.
And what makes you think
you’re
the man to help her get through it?
he asked himself. Because he knew better than anyone that hadn’t been the first time she’d lost someone in a car crash.

In his opinion, ol’ Rusty must have been plum loco; if
Reid
had had the good fortune to marry a woman like Cammi, he sure wouldn’t be chasin’ skirts!

“Whirlwind romances are doomed from the start,” she added in that same dull, soft-spoken voice.

Sorry to hear that, pretty lady,
he thought. Because what he felt for her could be described exactly that way.

“We barely knew one another,” Cammi continued. “Had absolutely
no
business getting married.”

She must have loved the big idiot; why else would she have said “I do”?

“Thought I loved him,” she said, as if reading his mind. He watched her pick at a nub on her place mat. “I thought wrong.”

Evidently, there had been enough of
something
between them to make her believe she could start a family with the guy.

She looked up to say “Only good thing to come of that marriage was the baby.” Cammi stared into space, blinking. “And now…”

And now she didn’t even have that. Seeing her so sad, on the verge of tears, made his heart ache, made him want to bundle her up in a big hug and apologize for asking about What’s His Name.

Definitely
time to change the subject. He searched his mind for something upbeat to talk about. No one was more surprised than Reid when he said, “My timing couldn’t be worse, considering the circumstances, but I don’t want to let you slip away. So when you’re ready…” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t very well back out of this. Well, he
could,
but then he’d never know if she felt the same way. If maybe someday she
might
feel the same way. “…I was wonderin’ if we could get to know one another better.”

Feeling like a stuttering, blithering idiot, Reid clamped his jaws together. He got up, walked around to her side of the table, took her hands in his and stood her up. Oh, but she felt good in his arms! So good, he regretted not having done it sooner. A
lot
sooner. Cammi all but melted against him. Could it mean that, despite all she’d said about whirlwind ro
mances being doomed, she felt the same way?
Well, a guy can hope.