Connor's Gamble (2 page)

“I started working there about nine months ago.  They needed a new activities director, and I—needed a change.”

Connor knew she had moved away from New Orleans after the divorce.  For a while he tried keeping track of her, but knowing she was so close yet forever out of reach seemed more painful.  He'd finally made a clean break, only finding out from his brother, Ryder, that she'd moved to Florida.

“Connor, we can be civil.  Things ended badly between us, but we were once friends.  Maybe we can at least make everything a little easier on this trip.”  Connor closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest. 
Unbelievable.  The woman I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with, love as we grew old together, thinks we can be “'civil.”  I must've screwed things up worse than I remember.

A sense of being watched prickled along his skin.  He knew exactly who stared daggers at him.  Waving at his grandmother, he placed his hands palms together and bowed his head slightly, a show of peace.  He even gave her a wink.  After what seemed like an eternity to Connor, she gave a regal nod and turned back to her consortium of traveling buddies.

“Alyssa, we can be civil.  We can travel together. Hell, we can even room together.  But we will never be
friends.
”

A flash of hurt crossed Alyssa's expression, lasting only a fleeting moment before her calm façade slid effortlessly back into place, but it was there long enough for him to catch.

“I see.”   Standing, she braced a hand on the seat in front of her and took a step up the center aisle and away from Connor. 
Good,
he thought. 
I've made her to leave me alone.  Again.

Before she had taken more than a step, squealing brakes, the crunch of ice, the sound of the bus driver's colorful curses, and shrieks from some of the front-end passengers filled the compartment.  The bus skidded along the roadway, the driver fighting for control.

Alyssa was thrown backwards, landing in an awkward pile at his feet.  Without a thought Connor reached forward, grasping her slight frame as though she weighed nothing.  He pulled her close, hugging her to his body.  Pivoting in his seat, he moved her to lie beneath him, doing his best to protect her.  His only thought—
keep her safe
.  Everything around him slowed to a crawl.  The voices, the screams all faded out as a dull roar reverberated through his skull.

No, dammit, this couldn't be happening.  He'd lost the woman he loved once through his own foolish pride.  Now here she was, back in his life, if only for a moment; he wasn't about to lose her again.

Turning his head, he saw the driver struggle against the lumbering beast of the private coach that spun in a three hundred and sixty-degree circle, skidding, a loud squealing sound from underneath as the tires wrestled for traction.  Patches of snow and ice flew past the windows, dirty muddy brown, flung up by the spinning wheels.  Everything slowed, and Connor lost focus, except for the woman cradled in his arms, her breath a soft caress in the curve of his neck.

With a horrific thud and crunch, the front end of the bus slid off the asphalt and careened forward, its momentum propelled by the slickness of the ice and slush buildup along the side of the highway before finally slamming into a stand of trees.

Chapter Two

Wednesday

A
lyssa struggled with the dead weight atop her, pushing and shoving, eventually crawling from beneath Connor's body.  He wasn't moving.

“Connor?”  Shaking his shoulder, she tried rousing him.  “Come on, Connor, don't do this to me.”

From the front of the bus she heard moans and soft crying.  Above all the din, Molly's voice, distinct and carrying, barked out directions like a drill sergeant.  She didn't want to leave Connor laying there but other than the bump she felt on the back of his head, he was breathing and seemed okay.

Easing his head gently off her lap, she rose, quickly stripped off her jacket, folded it and placed it under his head.  He moaned softly at the movement, his eyelids fluttering but not opening.

“Connor, I've got to check on my residents.  I'll be back—I promise.”  Alyssa's voice cracked at the end and she bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood as she turned and jogged down the aisle of the lurching bus.  The driver lay slumped behind the steering wheel, not moving.  Mr. Patterson was patting his wife's hand as she gently sobbed, her head against his shoulder.  Alyssa continued toward the front of the bus and retrieved the first aid kit from under the dash.  The driver had made sure the staff knew exactly where it was located, in case of emergency.  Good thing I paid attention, she thought.

“Molly, is anybody badly hurt up here?”
“Gwen knocked her knee pretty hard against a seat.  I don’t think it’s broken, but she'll probably need x-rays.”  The calm reassuring voice of Connor's grandmother, Molly Scott, helped Alyssa's racing heartbeat slow just a bit.

“Okay.”  She looked around at the other passengers.  Mrs. Spencer had blood dripping from a cut above her right eye and was dabbing at it with a tissue.  Everybody else scattered randomly throughout the bus, mostly toward the front, sat staring at her.  Waiting for her to tell them everything was going to be all right. 
God, please let everybody be okay.  Especially Connor . . .

“Molly, you might want to check on your grandson.  He's got a nasty bump on the back of his head.”

Molly turned panicked eyes on Alyssa.

Giving her an everything-is-going-to-be-fine nod, Alyssa watched Molly shuffle her way back toward Connor.  Grabbing her tumbled-over purse, she spotted her cell phone lying on the floor amid a tangle of spilled contents.  She quickly dialed nine-one-one and explained to the operator exactly what had happened, doing her best to give an accurate estimate of their location.  The dispatcher relayed the information another driver at the scene called as well.  Assured they were sending help, Alyssa hung up and continued checking on the rest of the passengers.  Time and again her gaze returned to the back of the bus—to Connor.

An overwhelming sense of relief flooded her when she saw him sit up, and watched Molly help him slide onto the seat he'd been thrown from. 
Thank you, God.

Turning, she took a step and knelt beside the driver's seat.  Holding her breath, she checked for a pulse.  Relief flooded her and she exhaled, a soft whisper of breath, when she felt the faint thump, thump, thump of the pulse beat in his jugular vein.  His whole upper body lay twisted at an odd angle, the steering column pressed against his sternum.  The front undercarriage of the bus had crumpled in, and torn metal flared upward in jagged hunks of steel, one spearing through the lower part of his leg.  A river of red blood covered the front floor under the driver's seat.  While she'd had basic first aid training, she wasn't qualified to deal with something like this.

“Mary?”  She called out to the nurse who accompanied the seniors on the trip.

Mary's head whipped up at Alyssa's voice, looking up from pressing a Band-Aid into place on Mrs. Spencer's brow.  “Alyssa?”

Not saying a word, she nodded toward the driver.  She knew Mary would do everything possible and Alyssa didn't want to draw undue attention from the passengers to worsen the situation.  The last thing anybody needed was a bus full of panicked senior citizens.  Whispering Pines was a senior retirement center, not a nursing home or assisted living facility.  The residents there were independent living, fully functional individuals.  But some of them were in their seventies and early eighties.  No need to worry them unnecessarily.

In the distance, the wail of sirens drawing closer to their scene filled the silence.  She heard pounding sounds coming from outside the lopsided bus.  Hands on the door release, Alyssa tugged.  Nothing.  No movement, not an inch of give.  It was jammed against something.  A rustling sound penetrated the broken glass from outside.  A man's head appeared through the opening.

“Ma'am, can you open the door?” the male voice asked.

“No, it's stuck.”

“Okay, I'll be right back, then.  I'm going to find something to pry it open.”

“Thank you so much.”  Flashing lights lit up the windows on the bus, bright blues and reds blinking like strobes, keeping an eerie rhythm to the wail of the sirens before the sound cut off abruptly, though the lights continued blinking and flashing.

Traffic slowed down to a crawl as passing cars filled with rubberneckers took in the scene, straining to glimpse what all the commotion was about.  Alyssa shook her head, surprised only one person seemed to care enough to actually get out of his car and attempt to help.

The creak of metal crunching against metal sounded through the relative silence in the bus.  Other than a few moans, nobody spoke. They all just waited for rescue.

Connor ambled from the back of the bus.  Alyssa smiled at him, grateful to see he was up and moving.  She reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead.  “You okay?”

Connor winced.  “Yeah, fine.  Something hit the back of my head, that's all.”

“No, it ain't.”  Molly's voice sounded from behind Connor as she peered around his massive frame at Alyssa.  “He banged up his shoulder again.”

Again?  Connor was hurt?  What happened?

“It's fine, Gran.”  He nodded toward the front exit.  “Door jammed?”

“Yes.  Somebody went to find something to open it.”

He nodded.  “I'll check the emergency exit in back, see if it's functional.”  He walked toward the rear of the bus.

Leaning toward Molly, Alyssa whispered, “What did you mean, he hurt his shoulder again?”

Molly shrugged.  “You need to ask him.”

“Molly, is he hurt worse than he's letting on?”

“Naw, he bumped his head.  The shoulder's from before.”

Alyssa sighed.  Molly avoided giving a direct answer, something she did when she wouldn't outright lie.  Thoughts flew a mile a minute, her mind racing.  Was Connor hurt before coming to Florida?  She wanted to ask but didn't have the right anymore.  The divorce three years ago had ended that.

Icy cold wind blew through the interior of the bus as Connor flung open the emergency exit at the rear.

“We can get some folks out through the back.”  His voice carried over the babble of people mumbling, the complaints starting now that reaction was setting in.

“Okay, folks, listen up.”  His authoritative tone quieted the other passengers, who turned to him expectantly.  “Anybody not seriously injured head toward me and we'll get you out through the back door.  If you're hurt, stay seated.  Help's on the way.”

Alyssa braved a tentative smile in his direction, patting the hand of Mrs. Walker, whispering assurances that everything would be all right.  A few of the more agile in the group made their way down the center aisle and Connor's calm reassuring voice let her know everything would be okay.  He'd never let her down in all the years she'd known him, until he'd cheated and broken her heart.  He'd get them through this, too.

“Mrs. Walker, you need to leave too.  Connor will help get you outside.”

“Connor, who's Connor?”  Her voice quavered on the question.

“He's Molly's grandson.  The one visiting her from New Orleans.  Remember, you met him before we boarded the bus.”

Mrs. Walker frowned, confusion and escalating panic written across her face.  “Bus?  What am I doing on a bus?”

Alyssa's concern escalated at her question. 
Had she hit her head during the crash?
  She'd have to warn the doctors that Mrs. Walker didn't suffer from dementia.

“You wait here with me, Mrs. Walker.  Somebody will help you out soon.

The wail of sirens filled the air, their waa-waa wails drawing ever nearer.  In less than a minute the addition of more flashing red and blue strobes blinked across the interior of the bus.  The siren sound cut off abruptly.

Emergency personnel converged on the scene.  Alyssa quietly and efficiently motioned the EMTs toward the bus driver, who'd sustained the most serious injuries.  Several uniformed men and women dealt with the more severely injured passengers.  Still others examined the passengers in their seats, triaging the more serious injuries from the minor.  Connor assisted at the back with the evacuation of the non-injured passengers.

With the last of the walking wounded removed from the back of the bus, Connor strode forward with two EMTs. 

“What else can I help with?”  Connor's voice whispered next to Alyssa's ear.

“Let's get Mrs. Walker out.”  Alyssa's eyes met his.  “I think she might have a head injury; she's confused and shocky.”

“Got it.”  With extra care, Connor lifted the frail woman's body into his arms, wincing with the movement and Alyssa remembered Molly's remark about Connor hurting his shoulder.

“Connor, you shouldn't be carrying her—your shoulder.”

He turned around and winked.  “Its fine, Lyssa.  I've got her.”  Within a minute he was at the emergency exit, handing Mrs. Walker to another paramedic outside.

Another five minutes and everybody on the bus was outside and accounted for.  Ambulances loaded with the people needing immediate attention, like the driver, pulled away with sirens blaring, merging into the afternoon traffic.  Everyone else was loaded into the back of police cars and cabs, called to assist by the local police to ferry more of the group to the emergency clinic.

With everybody outside, ambulances pulled away, leaving one after the next.  Finally only Alyssa, Connor and his grandmother were left.  Alyssa's eyes stayed glued to Connor as he helped Molly into the back of a cab.  He swung around scanning the area and she knew he was looking for her.  He met her fierce gaze with his own, a question in his eyes.

“Go with her.”  She mouthed the words to him as a highway patrol officer appeared at her shoulder.

“You sure?”  She watched his lips form the words.  She wanted to go with him, wanted him to pull her close against his chest and tell her everything would be all right.  Instead she had to walk away, let him go once again.